Hi everyone!
Thanks to all of you for reading this story... and thank you to all of you who have reviewed it so far. I just love to read your feedbacks: they are a writer's reward, you know...

** CHAPTER 3 **

Except for that uncalled-for argument she had with House in the morning, the rest of Cuddy's day had been pretty much uneventful. The afternoon was over, and the evening shadow was spreading through her office's large bow-windows, filling the room with darkness. A smooth light coming from her desk lamp was lightening her face as she was sorting out some extra paperwork and signing forms before she could finally allow herself to go home.

Cuddy heard the sound of the door opening and looked up to find Wilson hesitantly stepping inside. She greeted him with a friendly smile but sent him a quizzical look as she tried to decipher whether or not this was going to be a positive, relaxing moment. She wasn't dreading it, though. Never mind the late hour, she thought to herself, she could always enjoy a little visit from her friend. She was most certainly convinced it wouldn't be an annoying one, or a professional-related one either, at least not one of those ever-disturbing and exhausting visits House was paying her once or twice a month, bursting in her office to talk her into whatever insane procedure his mind had come up with, or grouse about the hospital lack of resources.

Unaware of Cuddy's optimistic expectations, Wilson took a tentative step forward, still visibly not knowing if he was about to do the right thing or not.

"Have you seen House?" he finally asked, standing in front of her desk.

At the very mention of the diagnostician's name, Cuddy looked instantly disappointed and, to show her indifference, she conspicuously returned her focus to her forms and started scribbling down notes again. After their most awkward and disturbing encounter earlier that day, she definitely didn't want to hear about House again, even if it came from Wilson who she knew had nothing to do with it.

"I sent him to the clinic this morning so, assuming he hasn't found a twisted pretext to avoid dealing with patients, you should find him there," she answered, her tone deliberately dismissive.

Wilson studied her while she stubbornly kept looking down, pretending to deal with her work. She obviously had been troubled by him asking about House and now she was displaying that typically childish little pout of hers, one she generally had when she wanted to avoid a subject but denied she was actually doing so at the same time.

'Damn, this isn't going to be easy!' Wilson thought. But he recalled the look on House's face when he had confided in him earlier in the morning. He hadn't spotted that look in his friend's eyes since, well, he couldn't even remember when. Even when Stacy had been back in his life for a short period of time a few years ago, and he'd witnessed his friend falling for her again, Wilson knew by then that it was not destined to end well for either of them. Stacy was married and House was not that big a jerk, despite what he liked to pretend sometimes. Moreover, Stacy belonged to a past which House could never make up for, and he'd known that right from the start. The truth was he probably didn't really want to, anyway.

Whereas now, that morning, Wilson had seen something in his friend's eyes… something different. And that was care… or something resembling it in House's unique scale of emotions. House had gone to Cuddy's the night before, and just by the way he'd confessed about it, Wilson had immediately perceived the significance of it. Now that he was looking at Cuddy's face, he saw it as evidence: If there ever was someone that these two could be destined for, they undeniably were the closest matching choice for each other that could possibly be found.

House, with his ever-damaged soul and heart, always trying to hide each and every genuine human feeling he felt behind a provoking flow of crude, and sometimes even hurtful remarks. He, so convinced he didn't need anyone that he couldn't allow them to need him back and instinctively pushed them away.

Cuddy, with her wrecked life, so empty and lonely. A life she was yet trying to fill with overflowing duty and responsibilities to bring her the soothing, albeit delusional certainty that things were just right the way they were. She, so reluctant to commit and let her emotions show because she was terrorized that she might lose who she had struggled to become in the process.

"In fact, I wasn't really looking for him," Wilson said trying to bring up the subject subtly.

"Oh, ok," Cuddy muttered grumpily, reluctantly acknowledging that the conversation was still going to be about House.

"Whatever he's done," he started, "you should know that he's confused."

"Yeah, sure," she answered with an ironic smirk, opening her desk drawer and fumbling through it.

"You know he went to your place last night?"

"Nobody went to my place last night," she answered assertively, closing the drawer, the PPTH seal in her hand. "At least, nobody that I would be aware of-"

Finally tilting her face up, she looked like a disturbing revelation had suddenly hit her.

"Wait! Are you saying House broke into my place and did something twisted while I was sleeping? What is it?" Cuddy questioned with an almost resigned sigh. "Did he hide some cameras in my bathroom? Did he put dead body parts in my fridge? Or, wait, did he file half-way through one of my chair's legs to make me fall next time I'll sit and break my coccyx, so that he can happily joke about my ass for a week?"

Listening to her making up all those crazy and paranoiac assumptions that only House could bring into her usually so under-controlled and well-adjusted mind, Wilson had to repress a smile. Damn, those two really were a perfect match!

"Relax Cuddy, House's done nothing wrong," he answered trying to sound as convincing as he could.

"Let's say that's the truth. That means, either you don't know about House having done something wrong because he actually didn't do anything wrong… or you do know he did something wrong, but you don't know what it is… so you wanted to forewarn me just in case-"

She sounded like she was brainstorming out loud. She'd stood up and walked round her desk to come closer to Wilson. She was now studying him suspiciously to check if he was purposely hiding something from her. All of a sudden, she paced back to her desk, picked up the phone and started dialing what Wilson immediately assumed was whichever number she needed to dial to reach House. Although concerned about the purpose that had brought him here in the first place, he couldn't help grinning at the image of Lisa Cuddy, the strong and determined Dean of Medicine totally losing it, because of her own blindness when it came to House. He walked toward her, gently took the receiver out of her hand, and hung up the phone. Then he looked at her with gravity, trying to make his point. Cuddy looked back, intrigued, and finally gave him all her attention back.

"He stayed outside the whole time. He didn't even have the courage to ring-"

"This is preposterous!" she interrupted waving her hand in front of her, as if she wanted to say oh and that is your point' "House never misses an opportunity to come to my place and jerk me around for no reason. And each time, he comes up with another stupid pretext. One he thinks will vaguely sound medically relevant, so that I'll buy the whole crap. Which is why if he really was there last night, trust me, he would have rung!"

At that very moment, Wilson would have gladly asked her why, if she was so sure House was only fooling her around, she kept opening the door to him, enabling the whole game, and maybe even wishing for it to happen. But proud and stubborn as Cuddy was when it came to admitting what she was really feeling, he thought that would certainly not help him get to his point.

"House didn't come to your place to play mind games with you or jerk you around."

"Really?" She sounded puzzled at the very idea that House might actually have another motive. "Why then?"

"He came to ask you on a date."

"House, ask me? On a date?" Cuddy burst into spontaneous laughter at the very mention of it. "Is this some kind of sick joke? Have you two taken up a bet or something?"

Unconsciously, she checked above Wilson's shoulder to see if House wasn't hiding somewhere behind her office glass door, lurking in her direction, and savoring each and every one of her freaked out reaction. Without noticing what she was doing, Wilson confessed.

"Technically, I'm the one who talked him into driving to your place and asking you on a date."

Cuddy's eyes widened in astonishment.

"And why would you do that?"

"Erm… kiss?" Wilson replied, embarrassingly, as if that single word only was enough to define the core of the problem. "You remember you and House did kiss, right? Or do I have to be the one very inappropriately reminding you about it?"

Cuddy sighed and gave him a surrendering look, the one on a child's face who's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I've forgotten you two are the worst gossiping persons in this hospital!" She went to sit down in her chair again and looked up at him standing in front of her. "This is completely ridiculous anyway! House would never do something like that. Believe me, he certainly isn't the dating kind of guy. And if he were, I most certainly wouldn't be his dating kind of girl!"

"Why not?" Wilson challenged. "On the first look, one could get the impression that you two are radically different species, never meant to get along, but one would be wrong."

Cuddy was dumbfounded by his statement and furrowed her brow in disbelief.

"Truth is," Wilson continued, "as unbelievable as it may sound, you and House understand each other like no one else does. That's why you can't help yourself seeking for the other one's approval on every decision you make. You wouldn't be able to stay away from each other more than one week even if you tried to. You think fighting all the time about meaningless matters makes it less noticeable, but it only makes it more obvious. You need each other."

"Wow, you really did prepare that speech!" Cuddy said in a poor attempt at cracking a joke.

She smiled fondly, half-amused, half-embarrassed by what Wilson had just said and a light blush slightly invaded her cheeks, as she tried to hide her embarrassment. But somehow, she managed to stay rather detached as she quietly went on, with a look of disillusion behind her eyes.

"Wilson, I know you just mean this for my own good, and maybe for House's, too, but you don't have to do this. House and I are both adults. We can make our own decisions about what we want or don't want in our lives. And if House actually came to my place, like you say he did, you're right about something because he didn't ring, and he never showed up. So, at least we can be sure of one thing: This whole inviting me on a date project probably never really crossed his mind for real in the first place."

"Well, if you're completely convinced about that, then-"

Wilson stopped to study her reaction. Cuddy sustained his look, raising her chin, imperceptibly nodding, and trying to look as self-confident as she could, but her lips, firmly set, were making it clear there was nothing to be added. Wilson knew that if it was the only way left to end this conversation, she could have gone on like that for an eternity. He gently smiled at her, as if to say: "It's ok. I'm leaving you alone now. You can relax."

"Good night, Cuddy," he said instead.

"Good night, Wilson," she answered, her shoulders slightly falling down, allowing her to relieve the pressure from the muscle's stiffness.

Wilson turned round and started to head toward the door while Cuddy leaned back in her chair and watched him leave for a few seconds. Her thoughts turned inward, and she looked away, gazing into emptiness.

Just when he was about to close the door behind him, Wilson looked over his shoulder, glancing in her direction and catching that exact look on her face: Confusion and doubt… with a hint of hope? Wilson smiled to himself. He could tell Cuddy wasn't so sure anymore. Maybe he'd finally managed to trigger something in her mind, forcing her to address the problem and put a name on it. He couldn't do much more than this, but at least he knew Cuddy would no longer be able to hedge anymore. Now, there was only thing left to expect: Let the invading thought prompt whatever decision she would allow herself to make and hope it would be the right one. But he couldn't be of any help for that. For now, he'd done what he could to help, and like he'd thought, damn, this wasn't easy!