new chapter, where we find out that Cuddy is stubborn, determined, and compelling and that it's a good thing that she is...

** CHAPTER 22 **

Cuddy was impatient to see House. She didn't know what she would tell him exactly, but she knew she would find a way to make him listen to her. She had to and, as long as there would still be a chance left, she wouldn't give up, anyway.

She'd driven from the hospital straight to his place and was now standing at his apartment's door, a little nervous and tense, not knowing how he'd welcome her but ready for whatever struggle she'd have to fight.

She knocked as energetically as her urge to finally talk to him was strong. The sound echoed in the hallway, and she waited, closing her eyes to focus on the first thing she would say when House would finally open the door. When he did, most abruptly, it made her gape in surprise. Her breath hitched and her heart started pounding in her chest when she saw him in front of her. Their eyes met and House instantly clenched his jaw. She noticed he was pale and that he looked tired and in pain. He smirked, his hand sturdily gripping the door frame.

"We've made a mistake," Cuddy said, looking him straight in the eyes before he could say anything, afraid he might slam the door shut in her face.

"What, patient's dead already?" House shot back, aggressively.

"No, actually, she's feeling better," she answered without missing a beat.

"Then why are you here?" he snapped.

She took a deep breath and smiled fondly at him.

"I'm here, because we've made a mistake," she repeated, her voice soft.

"Yeah, I think I got that already," he said bitterly, looking away. "You didn't need to come all the way here in person to explain."

He took a step back and started to shut the door in her face, but Cuddy blocked it with her foot and stared angrily at him.

"Yes, I did!" she exclaimed fiercely, her hand pushing the door back opened. "Because you got it all wrong!"

House released his grab on the door and studied her face, tilting his head to the side and peering intensely at her, as if he were trying to decipher the reasons of her being here. She held his gaze for a long moment, her chin up and her lips set, but the tension was too heavy to bear, and she cast her head down, overcome by the intensity of his piercing blue gaze on her.

When she finally mustered the courage to face him again, she looked to him, longingly, silently imploring him to let her in and listen to her. House exhaled loudly and resignedly removed his hand from the doorjamb, clearing a small space for her to come in.

Cuddy sighed in relief and hastily walked inside. He closed the door behind him and joined her in the living room, standing in front of her and conspicuously checking his watch.

"I don't have much time," he announced, sounding perfectly casual. "There's a hooker coming here in less than thirty minutes."

She bit her lip and closed her eyes, mentally cheering herself up and taking a deep breath, before looking him straight in the eyes.

"That's a lie," she simply stated.

He rolled his eyes and flashed her a sarcastic smirk.

"Ok, you got me! It's not one hooker, it's-"

"House," she interrupted, taking a step toward him, and tilting her face up to meet his gaze, "you don't have to do this."

He gulped, feeling visibly uneasy to have her standing close to him and invade his personal space. He feigned to be offended and took a step back.

"Do what?" he groaned. "I'm sorry if I don't have time for you but-"

"This isn't over yet," she cut him off, taking another step and closing the gap between them again.

When she approached, so close to him that she could have touched him without stretching her arm, House stumbled back a bit. He immediately placed another hand on his cane handle to steady himself and Cuddy saw him stiffen defensively.

"What are you talking about?" he said, trying to sound offhand.

"Our conversation-" She stopped and waited until she caught his eyes again, "Us."

House clenched his jaw and averted his gaze, his expression becoming sullen and aloof.

"God!" Cuddy exclaimed. "Don't turn away from me! Why is it so hard for you to look at me right now?"

He jerked his head to the side and conspicuously planted his eyes in hers then, as if he were trying to win a staring contest, as if saying: Ok, now I'm looking at you, so what? The intensity of his gaze made her lower her eyes to the ground.

"I'm not the one who turned away first," he finally said, almost with resignation, his voice betraying the train of emotions he was obviously trying hard to repress.

Cuddy kept silent, her head tipped down, almost leaning against his chest. Then, she reached out for his hand, timidly, and lightly stroked his knuckles with her fingertips. At the sensation, House closed his eyes, and strongly bit his lip to fight the urge to take her in his arms.

"I'm sorry it didn't work," he whispered, instead, and he pulled his hand away from hers.

Barely perceptible, House heard a quiet sob then. Cuddy tipped her face up and he saw the tear roll down her cheek.

"Why do you need to fight this so hard?" she said, hurt registering in her eyes. "Why are you pushing me away?"

"I don't know," he rasped. "I-" His voice choked, and he sucked in a sharp breath. "I never intended to hurt you."

"You're hurting me now!" she murmured, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Why?" he probed, trying to rationalize what he thought was nonsense.

He stared at her, undeniably puzzled, and searching in her eyes for an answer that would sound satisfying enough in his world, ruled by deduction and logic.

"You said it wasn't a big deal," he added, as if that, alone, was enough to defeat every argument she could make.

Cuddy stared at him, appalled, and forcefully wiped a tear away with the back of her hand.

"Is that what you think? That's the reason why you're so mad at me? Because you think I don't care?"

"You said you didn't!"

"I did not!" she protested, recovering her poise. "This is ridiculous. You only heard what you wanted to hear. Because you're afraid, House. You're afraid it might work so you've convinced yourself that all of this is already a disaster, so you won't have to deal with the frightening feeling of being involved."

House stared at her and tried to put up a brave face, but her speech deeply shattered him. Yes, he was afraid, but not of being involved. He already was in a way, otherwise he wouldn't have given a damn about what she thought of him. And he certainly wouldn't be standing here, torturing himself, and wondering if there was still a reasonable chance that he hadn't completely ruined whatever fragile thing they had between them.

If he didn't care about her, he wouldn't have let her in. He wouldn't be feeling what he was feeling in that instant, looking at her and her compelling, watery eyes. And it wouldn't make him want to console her and take her in his arms so badly.

House felt suddenly weak, and emotionally exposed, and he mentally kicked himself to divert his thoughts away from that dangerous path.

He couldn't give in to that need. It was too painful but as hurtful as the idea of losing her could be, he'd rather it happened now than wait for the moment when it'd undeniably feel excruciatingly intolerable. He took a step back and walked to his couch where he sat down, rubbing his thigh mechanically.

"Sorry, my leg hurts," he said.

It was just an excuse, though, to allow him to create a safe distance between them. It instantly diverted Cuddy's thoughts and she looked at him with a genuine look of concern. She took her coat off, walked past the coffee table and sat next to him, putting the coat on the armrest behind her.

"You okay?" she asked, out of genuine care, the doctor in her taking over the woman.

She reached out her hand to his face and House recoiled, leaning back to avoid her touch, and compelling her to back away with a silent stare. Cuddy sighed, hurt, but complied and held her hand back.

"House, please, I know you want this, too," she said in a low voice, looking him straight in the eyes.

"No," he denied obstinately.

"Why?"

"It can't work."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because you're my boss."

"So what?"

"It's impossible to work and be together at the same time. We'll kill each other before the end of the week."

"You don't know that."

"We fight all the time."

"We don't fight. We have medically challenging arguments," Cuddy answered, a smile drawing on the corner of her lips.

House looked at her and softened a little, smiling too.

"And what about this morning?" he asked, trying to make his point. "We yelled at each other-"

"No. You yelled at me," she corrected. "I only tried to convince you to take the safest route for your patient. But you created the conflict. And you did it on purpose."

"And why would I do that?"

Cuddy looked away for a second and tried to find the right words. She felt he'd somehow relaxed and seemed ready to hear her out. She felt his initial anger was slowly subsiding as he'd begun to accept her being here, in his apartment but also here, talking to him, sitting close to him. She felt he was finally willing to listen to her.

"Because-" she explained, moving closer to him, "you were hurt. Because you resented me."

"What makes you think that I resented you?"

She turned around and grabbed her coat. She rummaged into the pocket and fished out the sheet of paper that was there. House saw it and cast his eyes down.

"Because of that," she said, handing out the message to him.

He shot a quick glance at it, perfectly recognizing the piece of paper, but he didn't take it. She smiled, not surprised by his reaction.

"It's a little ironic, don't you think?" she said, unfolding the piece of paper and exposing the message to his sight.

"What is?" he muttered.

"This… You-" She sighed. "House, yesterday I was out when you left this note-"

"I know," he said, self-consciously.

"No, you don't. You think I deliberately chose not to come, and it hurt you. I understand. But I only found your message today. Because I didn't come back to the hospital yesterday. I went home right after the end of my meeting."

"Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh'…"

"I guess you're right: It is a little ironic," he said, avoiding her gaze.

Cuddy slid on the couch to come closer to him and lift her hand again to his face to caress his stubble. Only this time, House didn't recoil. When her palm cupped his cheek, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, leaning into her touch and rubbing his scratchy skin against her palm. Cuddy felt all kinds of emotions overflowing her heart all at once at the sensation: relief, joy, tenderness, yearning. And bitterness, too, anger and disappointment.

She knew then that she had to get rid of those last feelings as well.

"You're a child," she said, a bit accusingly.

As if he needed to prove her right, House looked at her with an exaggerated boyish pout. She removed her hand from his cheek and looked at him with seriousness.

"You were not sure I'd seen the note but you still jumped to the wrong conclusion, assuming the worst because that's how things always have to be with you."

House set his lips and his face took on a look of gravity.

"Why is it so hard for you to have faith?"

"Because... Everybody lies."

"Of course, how convenient!" She puffed. "You think it applies to me, too?"

He stared at her. Lie or honesty? He could tell her what she wanted to hear, or he could tell her what he believed was the truth.

"Yes. You lie. I lie. There's no exception."

"But I'm sincere now."

"Now? Ha, see? You're admitting that you've lied."

Cuddy sighed, defeated, and looked at him with a sorry smile.

"It's my fault," she said, pouting. "I planted that stupid idea inside your head."

"What idea?"

"That you and I weren't a big deal."

"And… are we?"

"I don't know... are we?" she asked.

A/N

THANK YOU so much for the nice reviews.

So, big question: will they be able to tell?... answer in the following chapter, which I'll post asap! :)

until then, have a nice day! ~ maya