** CHAPTER 52 **

House had been standing across the street, since the moment the cab he'd taken at the airport had dropped him there.

He'd been standing there for the past fifteen minutes. Standing there and staring. Staring straight ahead, at her parent's house. And those stories about his legendary self-confidence and his emotional non-involvement were nothing other than pure bullshit in that moment because he was feeling like an insignificant, useless tiny dust in the universe. He was feeling unsure, uneasy and ashamed. He was literally overwhelmed by a brimming flow of feelings that were running through his veins and were putting him in an unnerving soreness, because he was not used to that. He was not used to feeling so much and so many different emotions at the same time…

He knew he'd been a jerk. No. More than a jerk: He'd been a dreadfully mean bastard to her. He'd said horrible things to her. Horrible things he didn't mean, but he'd been crushed when she'd left him. He never thought it'd be so painful to feel like it again. He didn't even think he could get so low and be so miserable just because of another human being's absence.

"There is one missing from the world, and the entire world has emptied."

Nah. He'd never believed in that crap! Cheesy sayings weren't for him. Truth is, he'd suffered. Suffered like hell because of her. Because of her. Because she'd left. She was the stupid thoughtless one. Not him. And he hated her for that. For what she'd done to him. For the pain she'd made him feel, while he'd tried so hard, to be the kind of man she'd want to keep. Because no woman had ever wanted to keep him before. But Cuddy, she'd made him believe she would.

No. It was not her fault. She was scared. She was lost. And, somehow, he hadn't been able to help her. He hadn't been able to hold her back. God, he hated that lump! Yes, he hated that lump more than he hated her. He thought about the relief then… the relief he'd felt when Wilson had told him that she was seeing another doctor. He knew she couldn't be reckless like that. Not her. She would take care of her. She would be fine. She was his woman: proud, strong, unpredictable, stubborn and annoying. But she was his woman…

House closed his eyes for a brief moment and her image formed at the back of his mind. Was it possible to want a woman that much? He wanted her so badly in that moment that his whole body was tingling. He opened his eyes again and stared at the house in front of him for another while. It was an elegant Victorian house with stairs leading to a large porch sheltering the front door.

He took a deep breath and resolutely crossed the road toward those stairs.

At the doorstep, he mechanically raised his cane to knock, but decided against it with a smile. He spotted the bell and rang, instead. Holding his breath, he bowed his head and waited for the door to open for what felt like an eternity. Finally, someone came to the door. A woman. She was refined and welcomed him with a warm smile, but she couldn't help staring at him and his silhouette, quite in disarray: The strained features, the still red-rimmed eyes, the creased shirt, the stubble, the cane, all those little details were hardly speaking for him. House smirked and squared his shoulders to straighten up, searching for the right words. The first words.

"Mrs. Cuddy?" He clutched his cane's handle tighter. "I'm Gregory House. I'm-"

The woman standing in front of him thoroughly studied him and her smile changed a little. Gregory House? That was a name she'd already heard her daughter mention before. On some random occasions that she hadn't really borne in mind, but she however perfectly remembered the way her daughter's eyes lit up each time she talked about him.

"You're here for Lisa?" she asked.

House gulped and heaved a sigh of relief. Yes, he was here for Lisa…

"She's not here," Mrs. Cuddy added before he had time to confirm.

House's face instantly clouded over with disappointment. Was it possible that he'd made a mistake? What if she wasn't at her parents', like he was sure she was?

The more Cuddy's mother scrutinized that man - whose scruffiness looked more like a subtle provoking way-of-life than an actual careless demeanor - the more she felt there must be something about him that was surely related to her daughter unexpectedly turning up at the door a week ago, looking completely wrecked. She couldn't tell what it was, or explain why, but it was there, in the way the scruffy man standing on her doorstep was now intensely "asking" her about her daughter with a piercing gaze, filled with despair.

"She's out for dinner," she clarified, and relief seemed to illuminate House's face. Briefly.

"With a man" she then added, deliberately choosing the word "man" instead of "friend" to see if it would trigger another kind of reaction in those eyes.

And indeed, it did: surprise, disbelief, confusion, anger, pain, jealousy, denial, determination… like a brimming flow, overwhelming him all at once, Mrs. Cuddy saw every emotion pass behind those intense, blue eyes in a flash.

Feeling suddenly dizzy, House gripped his cane's handle tighter as if he were trying to prevent himself from falling.

"I see," he muttered under his breath, nodding in acknowledgment.

He should have turned around and left right then, but he was incapable of moving. He wasn't ready to give up. No. He would not give up on her. Most unexpectedly, he didn't move and kept standing there, as if he were waiting for a sign.

Mrs. Cuddy was observing him intently and something in the stubborn immobility of that man began to intrigue her even more.

"Mr. House," she asked, feeling the irrepressible need to confirm that little hunch she'd had the moment she saw him, "do you know Lisa well?"

House clenched his jaw and stared silently at the woman in front of him. He understood the subtle insinuation and a slight mischievous smile flickered on the corner of his lips. "Well enough to know exactly how to make her moan and come under my caresses," he thought.

But, of course, he couldn't say that. Still, in his trademark fashion, he chose to be blunt enough not to leave any doubt about the nature of his relationship with Cuddy.

"Every inch of her," he said, staring unabashedly into Mrs. Cuddy's eyes.

Surprise briefly registered on her face, quickly replaced by a smile, slightly impressed, but undeniably respectful.

"Come on in, Mr. House," she said, prompted by a sudden motherly gut reaction. "My husband and I were about to have a cup of tea, maybe you would like to share one with us?"

# # # # #

She couldn't believe she was sitting there, in that restaurant, having dinner with him.

Bill Russell.

If someone had told her she'd have accepted an invitation from the boor who had annoyed her so much during that symposium in Seattle, she'd have surely burst into laughter. Ironic laughter. Life was so strange and unexpected, sometimes.

When, a week ago, she'd stepped in MGH, in search of someone she could trust to guide her and take care of her medical case, Cuddy didn't think she'd have ended asking him to deal with her case. At the time she'd walked into the hospital's main lobby, she was a total mess. She couldn't think straight. And then, she'd bumped into him. A sign of fate? She was looking for advice at the admission desk, and she had heard him call her name.

Truth be told, she'd completely forgotten he was working at MGH. But when she'd seen him, she'd instantly remembered him. And the way he'd behaved around her in Seattle: An unsubtle philanderer, trying to get his hands all over her…

But things were not the same then. Cuddy was feeling completely lost and devastated and, most unexpectedly, Bill had been more well-mannered with her and far less improper than she could recall. Actually, he was different as a doctor than he was as a man. He'd made her look at him from a different angle, and she'd felt somehow reassured to have him near.

Soon, she'd confided in him, told him about the lump and he'd handled the situation with professionalism. No uncalled-for questions or inappropriate demeanors. Bill had remained professional, and he'd taken care of her.

The first days, he'd ordered further exams which, luckily, had ruled out cancer right away. The lump was still there, though, and Bill wasn't able to explain why or what it was, yet, but he'd promised her he would find an answer. And she'd felt reassured. A little…

Of course, from the moment she'd left Princeton, House had still been in each and every single one of her thoughts. She'd run away, from him, from her house, from her job, from her hospital and it was an inexplicable outburst, one that she was still struggling to explain, but she knew she had to. She couldn't live like that any longer. Pretend that everything was fine when it was not. Pretend that she had everything she needed to be happy when she didn't. Pretend House could be the right man for her when ... maybe he wasn't.

The day when she'd discovered she had a lump, she'd cried, but, strangely, not so much because of the lump itself as she had because of him. She'd cried because she knew it would be impossible for him not to obsess about it, and her body… or her breasts. And that was a horrible feeling. A feeling she'd tried to repress really hard, but hadn't been able to.

The night before she'd left, when she'd cried while they were having sex before House had left to go back to PPTH, she hadn't been able to sleep. She'd kept thinking about him and the way he was always looking at her. What did he want? What were his feelings for her? He never told her. He suggested, insinuated, implied … But he never phrased his feelings aloud.

Sure, he made her feel beautiful, desired, wanted. And it was flattering. But what if the lump turned out to be something really bad and they had to cut her breast? Would he still want her? Would he still look at her? No. Too many questions were invading her mind and, sadly, Cuddy had no answers. What she knew, though, was that she wasn't just a body. She wasn't especially proud of herself for what she'd done then, but she felt that she had to leave before she would suffer too much.

At first, it'd felt like someone had taken a heavy burden off her chest. Finally. She'd felt relief: No more pressure coming from those scrutinizing eyes, studying her, demanding explanations, evaluating. But the relief had been so brief! After twenty years of her life spent knowing him, fighting him, loving him, she'd been fool enough to think she could erase that in one day?

It was just impossible.

Trying to forget House was even more excruciating than being with him. She'd barely landed in Boston that she was already missing him. Why lie to herself? Why fly away when things were not better there? However far she would try to go, he would still haunt her, and she would still miss him.

But then, his messages came: Angry. Spiteful. Hurtful. Horrifying. And she'd cried some more. Yes, she knew he was hurt, and she knew she was being responsible for it, somehow, but why? Did she really deserve that? No. She'd made the right decision. She had to move on. It was unwholesome. That relation was destroying her. She had to forget him. Forget him…

"The last time we met, you were seeing a man. I didn't ask, because it's none of my business, but I find it quite strange that a man could leave a woman like you alone for a whole week."

Cuddy was jolted awake out of her reverie. She looked around her, puzzled. Bill Russell. She was having dinner with Bill Russell.

"Sorry, you were saying?" she asked with innocent eyes, trying to hide her complete lack of focus behind an ingenuous smile.

"I said, he's not really a wise man, is he? The man you're seeing, I mean. Because I, for one, would never leave you alone for that long-"

"I'm not with him anymore," she answered with a thready voice.

Bill shot her the perfectly empathic smile and Cuddy smiled back, shyly, twiddling her napkin between her fingers and struggling against the rush of mingled emotions that had pervaded her when she'd heard herself wording it aloud for the first time.

# # # # #

"So, you're working with Lisa?"

"I am. Well, more for her, you know. She gives orders, I disobey. Then she yells and she assigns me to clinic duty for eternity. And I serve my sentence, swabbing crotches… But she's got the whip hand, so I don't really have a choice!"

Dana Cuddy widened her eyes in astonishment. House smiled and frowned, trying to swallow back his words.

"It's a joke. Sorry, a bad one," he muttered, embarrassingly.

But Lisa's mother raised her chin to him and gave him a genuinely amused smile.

"No. That's fine. Really. I guess I'd forgotten how compelling Lisa can be when she wants things to go her way!"

It was House's turn to be surprised. Mrs. Cuddy was no fool and she'd managed to take him off guard. He liked that. He smiled back at her, and raised his mug of tea up, as if to toast.

"Absolutely. Your daughter is a very compelling woman," he acquiesced solemnly.

Dana Cuddy nodded her approval and raised her mug toward him as well.

"You sure you don't want to taste that Bourbon?" Mr. Cuddy asked, for the umpteenth time, holding up his bottle for him.

"Yes, I'm sure. I don't think Bourbon likes me very much these days."

"Oh, but you haven't tasted that one!"

"Really, trust me," House said meaningfully. "It has nothing to do with quality."

Lisa's father pouted in disappointment and put his bottle back down on the table resignedly. House rubbed his thigh, thoughtlessly, and Mrs. Cuddy looked at him with concern.

"Does your leg hurt?" she asked, with a caring voice.

House moved his hand away, feeling uneasy.

"No, that's ok," he quickly dismissed. "Planes, you know how it is! They only design seats for people barely higher than five-feet tall!"

Dana Cuddy smiled and stood up. House read her move as a polite invitation to follow suit and got up as well, albeit reluctantly.

"Maybe you should rest," she said.

He sighed, trying to hide his disappointment.

"You could wait for Lisa in her room," she added, unexpectedly. "You'll be more in peace there. Benjamin and I have bored you to tears with our questions. You need a quiet place to wait."

House's mouth dropped open in bewilderment. That was quite unexpected, but a blessing nonetheless: Full access to Lisa Cuddy's room, to wait for her alone and try to gather his thoughts before she would come home. He had a hard time believing such a convenient offer was for real. He so couldn't believe it, he declined it, almost in spite of him.

"I don't want to bother you. It's late, I should probably go," he heard himself say, inwardly cursing himself for having phrased it aloud.

But Dana Cuddy gently put her hand on his shoulder and stared at him with fondness. She definitely had her eyes: Steel-blue, piercing and compelling, just like hers.

"You're right, it's late. Which means Lisa shouldn't be long, now. Don't tell me you want to leave just when she's about to come back, Dr. House?" she said, her eyebrows raised in mock disbelief.

House sucked in a sharp breath and glanced at Lisa's father. The old man looked quite puzzled, but surely not in a position to contradict his wife. House could even swear he'd seen him shrug in helplessness. He smiled, empathically, and stared back at Lisa's mother.

"I guess you're right. That'd be stupid of me, indeed!" he answered with a resolute tone.

Cuddy's room was on the third floor. Under the roof. Dana Cuddy showed him the way and when they arrived in front of the door, she opened it for him and moved to the side to let him in, standing at the threshold while House walked into the vast room. Closing the door behind her, Cuddy's mother left without a word.

As soon as House was alone, finally realizing where he was, his heart started thumping in his chest. He scanned the room, and everything instantly reminded him of her. He felt overwhelmed by her presence, and it almost made him have a dizzy spell.

He gripped his cane's handle tighter and walked toward the bed. Standing beside it, he reached out his hand and lightly touched the pillow with the back of his fingertips. He grabbed hold of her nightdress and buried his face in it, breathing deeply to fill his nostrils with her scent, closing his eyes when it awoke his senses.

One week. Seven days. Six nights. It was not going to be easy. What was he going to do? What was he going say? Seven days. Six nights. Right then, he wanted to hold her so much. But she probably wouldn't let him. Of course. Because she would be hurt. And angry.

House put the nightdress back on the bed and walked around the room, studying her world. There was a desk under the window. And books on the desk: medical books, reviews, magazines, novels. On the wall, there were pictures. Pictures of her, and her family. She was smiling on the pictures. She looked happy. She was beautiful.

Seven days. Six nights.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of a car, parking in front of the house. He came closer to the window, his heart pounding inside his chest. Looking outside, he saw the vague silhouette of a man, walking around the car and opening the passenger door.

And then he saw her.

Cuddy let the man take her hand to help her step out of the car. House became short of breath as he watched her, curling herself up inside her shawl and allowing another man to put his hands on her shoulders. The guy set his lips and looked her straight in the eyes before slowly leaning down to her face and she willingly gave him her lips. House forcefully clenched his fists and closed his eyes, stepping away from the window, feeling queasy.

Seven days. Six nights.

No. It sure was not going to be easy.

A/N

yes, I know, I ended that chapter just before... and now you want to throw things at me... oops! but we're almost there... Cuddy is outside right now, but soon, she'll be walking in her parent's house...

and we're approaching the chapter which is probably one of my favs so far.

thank you for reading and appreciating this story. you are undeniably part of the reasons why I like this writing journey so much...

~ maya