** CHAPTER 41 **

"Cyclosporiasis," Taub proposed, his contemptuous face sighing in boredom for what seemed to him like an already solved case.

"But of course!" House exclaimed cynically. "Coz now, we're dealing with clinic leftovers. And to make it good enough a challenge for us, they spice it up by hiding the most obvious symptoms like, diarrhea! But, apart from that, you're absolutely right: It could definitely be cyclosporiasis!"

"Chemical poisoning?" Thirteen said, fumbling through the file's pages. "This guy's a plumber. He could've gotten heavy lead poisoning from all the pipes he's been in contact with throughout the years."

"Sure! Except to have heavy lead poisoning it means he would've been licking the pipes for almost twenty years, but why not? If he's a very devoted plumber."

House widened his eyes in an exaggerated, appalled expression that made them all lower their gazes.

He was sitting at the end of the conference table and that sudden morning crankiness of his didn't get lost on his team. It felt quite unusual of House to be so grouchy, at least now, compared to the rather relaxed good mood they were used to seeing him in the past weeks, even recent months. Overtime, the four doctors had become accustomed to House's softer side, even if, in his case, it only meant that he was just acting normal. So, it took them aback when, that morning, the old, edgy version of him made an unexpected comeback.

"Pneumonia?" Kutner suggested, with a hopeful look on his face.

"Pneumonia?" House repeated, staring at him and looking utterly dismayed. "Are you just making wild guesses and throwing random diagnosis to the wind not to be excluded from the game or do you really believe in what you say? Coz that literally makes no sense, considering the symptoms we have here."

Kutner puffed and bowed his head to hide his irritation. Pneumonia was a plausible diagnosis. Maybe not the most obvious, but it was precisely the reason – one that he thought House would appreciate – why he had suggested it. But then, the diagnostician definitely didn't seem to be in an open-minded state of mind that day, so why bother? he thought bitterly.

"C'mon, think dammit! What do you see?" House exclaimed, his voice growing increasingly annoyed.

They all turned their head toward the white board to overview the symptoms and try to come up with a plausible, not too far-fetched solution that would satisfy their cantankerous boss.

FEVER
ABDOMINAL PAIN
WEIGHT LOSS
ANEMIA

"Cancer," Foreman stated then in a calm voice, suggesting the obvious diagnosis no one had dared to propose until then.

"No!" House barked, throwing daggers at him. "This is not cancer!" He clenched his jaw and sucked in a sharp breath before adding in a more controlled tone of voice, "White blood cell count is normal. Read the file instead of making completely idiotic suggestions!"

"Sorry, but it's consistent with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukem-"

But Foreman couldn't finish his sentence as House, who was absent-mindedly staring blankly throughout the glass wall suddenly jumped out of his chair and limped outside the room without even a look at his team.

They all followed him with their gazes and synchronically shrugged when they saw Cuddy was standing in the hallway. Before House joined her, they all turned their focus back to the file and the medical data they had in front of them, hoping it would help them find an acceptable solution for when House would come back. Only Foreman gave the pair standing in the hallway a lingering stare and frowned, intrigued, but he finally went back to reading the file as well.

When House approached Cuddy, he instantly registered the embarrassment in her eyes and felt a slight pang of angst tighten his chest. He inhaled deeply and had to clench his fists to repress the urge to touch her and hold her in his arms like he desperately wanted to.

"Everything ok?" he asked worriedly.

Cuddy noticed the clenching. She slightly, almost imperceptibly, lifted her hand toward his, but she stopped before she could touch him and raised her eyes to him, with sorry written all over her pale face.

"Yes, everything's fine," she said, glancing around.

"Then why are you here?" he asked, just a little more harshly than he'd wished to sound.

She stiffened and painfully sustained his gaze, mustering up the courage to pretend she didn't feel hurt by his aggressive tone.

"I have a meeting at Princeton General this afternoon. I wanted to tell you about that last night but-"

"A meeting? With Dr. Gruber?"

She widened her eyes, surprised.

"No. A meeting. Like, room-full-of-administrators-talking-about-budget meeting. Why would it be with Dr. Gruber? I told you I wasn't seeing him until two more days."

"Yeah, indeed. That's what you said. But how can I be sure that it's not another one of your lies?"

Cuddy's mouth dropped open and she stared at him with a flabbergasted look, which spoke of the hurt she'd felt upon hearing his accusation.

"House! I never lied to you!"

"No. You chose to hide the truth from me, that's worse," he stated, coming slightly closer, almost touching her.

His piercing blue eyes were staring at her, and Cuddy became suddenly painfully aware of her standing in the middle of the hospital hallway, during workday. She started feeling ill-at-ease and she cast her eyes down to avoid his gaze.

"Are we really having this conversation now, here?" she asked wearily.

"No, you're right," House answered embittered. "We're not having this conversation. We can't have this conversation. This conversation is taboo. I got it. Sorry."

Cuddy bit her bottom lip and searched for a hint of gentleness in his eyes, but his look was just cold and undecipherable. Suddenly it became urgent for her to be elsewhere.

"I'd just come here to tell you I was going to be busy today, probably until late and I didn't know when I'd be able to come to your place. But you know what? I think, it'd be probably best if we each stayed at our place and spent the night separately."

A long, heavy silence settled between them, and House narrowed his eyes, searching in her gaze for some hidden motives that could have prompted her to say that. He was feeling lost and useless, and he was plainly aware that those mixed sensations undoubtedly made him angry. Worse, while he acknowledged that his anger was aimed at her, he also perfectly knew that she'd done nothing to deserve it and he resented himself for acting like that. He took a deep breath and clutched his hands on his cane's handle.

"Okay," he said coldly.

The two syllables went through her heart like two sharpened arrows. Cuddy briefly closed her eyes to recover from the sensation.

"I—uh," she stammered.

House raised his eyebrows quizzically and she felt suddenly defenseless under his inquisitive stare. She hated that feeling but she hated the fact that she could do nothing about it more. And yet, she wished nothing more than to be the strong, forceful, and confident woman that she'd always been. But things had changed, irremediably, and now there was that unnerving awkwardness hanging over them.

At that moment, in broad day light, as Cuddy was standing in the middle of the hallway, where busy people and medical staff went about their day, striding along in every direction in a determined pace, she felt like a lost child who needed a hand to guide her toward a safe place. She felt a violent need to snuggle up against him and disappear inside his protective arms. There was her safe place. There, was the warmth she was longing for. But he seemed so distant and aloof. She felt puzzled and confused by his sudden coldness.

"I'm busy," she said, raising her chin and concealing her emotional distress behind a resolute tone.

"Yes, you are," House replied, with a hint of disenchantment in his tone.

He turned his head toward the conference room, and for a short while, he looked at his team through the glass wall. They were studying the patient's file with great attention, or perfectly faking to do so, conscientiously avoiding gazing in his and Cuddy's direction.

When he turned his head back, Cuddy was gone. He only caught a glimpse of her frail silhouette, just before she vanished behind the hallway's corner. He heaved a deep sigh and went back to his outer office. He had barely stepped inside that every pair of eyes was on him, interrogating.

"What did Cuddy want?" Thirteen dared to ask first.

House briefly glanced at her and then turned his head toward the corner behind which he'd just seen her disappear.

"Dinner's plan confusion!" he exclaimed extravagantly. "She wanted to eat Indian. I was up for Mexican."

"And?" Kutner asked, his tone bantering.

"We cancelled. Not in a mood for spicy food."

House smirked, and his eyes darkened. It became suddenly impossible to define where exactly the line was drawn between joke and seriousness. The four doctors exchanged embarrassed looks over the conference table…

…

Even though none of them had the nerve to try and confirm the rumor, they were still quite sure that their boss and The Boss were having an affair. It was so obvious that that little cat and mouse game of theirs was no longer a game and that they now shared more than just sexual innuendos. They'd taken a step forward. Of course, they had.

Everyone was positive about that. According to Cameron, despite the fact that House had not said it aloud, per se, he had, in his way, admitted the fact. It'd surprised no one, as it seemed that House, the cranky, lonely, antisocial doctor could soften for only one woman, and Cuddy, the busy, fierce, inaccessible Dean would let no other man but him treat her like he did. Something had been going on between the two of them for a long time. And now it had become very real. If anything, House's softer mood, every morning when he arrived at the hospital with a bouncy limp, and every evening when he hastily left, was evident proof of it.

Everyone could tell seeing how less pills he was popping every day. They saw it in the way he was smiling. Because, yes, he was. It'd felt strange at first, but House did smile more. For no apparent reason. It was clear that he was in a good mood. Was he happy? That was something nobody had dared to assume. But they could acknowledge the change: Because even if House remained exactly the same, in a way, he was different. And it suited him well. She suited him well.

There was only one thing the rumor was still uncertain about, and it was the real nature of House and Cuddy's involvement toward each other. Could House be in love? Oddly enough, despite the good mood, the smiles and everything, House being in love was still something that stood beyond conceivable for most people. Yes, House and Cuddy were together. At least, everyone assumed they were having a good time together. But did they have feelings for each other? No one could tell.

Chase was secretly running bets on how long that "fling" was going to last. Some jealous, resentful doctors had rushed to place their money on a one-week orgy, at best. Money they'd already lost, of course. Truth is, almost everybody had already lost, or was about to. Because no one had dared to bet further than half a year, which already seemed like an eternity in terms of how long a woman, even if that woman was Cuddy, was supposed to stand House. Or how long House would want to sleep with the same woman without getting bored. Consequently, Chase had been forced to adjust his ongoing bets and, as time passed by, it'd become a sort of race against the calendar. It wasn't really a bet anymore but everyone who wanted to keep making guesses was welcomed to place money on it.

Rumor had it that someone – a mysterious someone – had put a hundred on the "till death do them part" bet, but Chase wouldn't say their name. Some thought it was Cameron, others pretended it was Chase himself, trying to confuse the betters, or maybe Wilson who eventually always remained an incorrigible optimist. Actually no one knew, and certainly not House, who was the last one to be aware of that ongoing underground emulation around his sentimental life…

…

The four doctors carefully lifted their gaze and looked at House. He was staring blankly in the white board's direction, but it was obvious his eyes were seeing past the actual objects in the room. His mind was elsewhere, wandering in places that seemed to put him in a melancholic state of mind. No one dared to speak by fear of breaking the heavy silence that was reigning in the room. At some point, though, Kutner decided things had to move forward. He cleared his throat and asked what they were supposed to do about the patient.

House turned his head toward them, abruptly jolted out of his reverie by the sound of his voice. He narrowed his eyes for a few seconds, staring at Kutner as if he were still trying to decide whether he liked his intervention or not.

"Do the tests," he said, waving his hand toward the exit door dismissively.

Taub raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"Tests? What tests?"

House shook his head, appalled.

"What do you mean what tests? Come on! Have I taught you nothing in the past two years? Tests, medical tests: blood, stool, I don't know! Sweat, hair… I mean, be creative! Knock yourself out! Daddy gives you carte blanche."

House gave the four a strange smirk and without a warning, turned on his heel and left the room.

A/N

No spoiler… just one thing: this "funbags" storyline has a purpose… trust me!
Have a lovely day ~ maya

Ps: oh! And for those who are interested, I've posted a new chapter on "The Mayfield Healing Process"…