Chapter 4 It's another sad one, sorry. They will get better soon! Enjoy!

It was the smell that finally aroused House from his place on the cold tile floor. Putrid fumes rushed his senses forcing him awake in a jolt of panic. 'Aw yes, he was detoxing. Hours must have passed,' House thought, as he rolled over to his side. He was careful not to touch the dried vomit that was caked all over the floor. He noted that from how dry the floor was and the way his tongue felt like it might start to crumble from dehydration, he might have been out for more than a day. He made a failed attempt to stand at first, trying to grab onto the toilet bowl for extra leverage. Finally with more effort than he cared to acknowledge he managed to get to his feet. House had the jitters, he felt feverish and beyond queasy, but he had slept through the worst of it.

He limped carefully over to the sink and forced himself to choke down a glass of water to wash the sour taste away. Cleaning up the floor would have to wait, he had to make his way to the bed and lay down before he threw up again. As soon as his head hit the pillow he felt better, he methodically started to rub his leg, glad that he was through the worst of his detox. He stared at the ceiling for a while and tried to fall back to sleep, tried to turn off his thoughts, but he failed. He needed his pills! House slammed his fists down hard on the bed. That's why he went back to them in the first place! He was never capable of dealing with pain…'Why would anyone ever choose to feel this?'

House tried to think of anything else, anything besides his agony. It didn't work. He was trapped. He grabbed a pen off the nightstand and dug it in to the palm of his hand. Trying desperately to distract from the excruciating pain in his leg; from the gaping hole in his chest. There was a reason he was here, detoxing once again. He foolishly thought he could manage without vicodin for the rest of his life. He had been clean for so long that he mistakenly held out hope that he would never put himself through this again, never have to experience this hell...but he had been wrong. She had become a replacement, a substitute. A new, beautifully wonderful drug he got to consume freely, without hesitation. She was his, and he was at peace...

When Wilson called him after looking over Cuddy's scans that night, House hung up the phone feeling like he was being burned alive. He never thought he was capable of feeling pain like that. It was different than his leg had ever felt, this was the love of his life, and she was dying. There was no comparing the two. House could live with tens times his pain for the rest of his life…but he couldn't bear the thought of living without her. He had found his elusive happiness, and it was being ripped away from him. He had finally made his way from the pathetic shell of a man he was before, to a man that could be loved. That Cuddy could love...but all that would be gone forever. Just like that.

So he gave into his weakness, reacted impulsively. That was always his way. House remembered swallowing the pill before giving himself time to think about it. He had to stop it, had to numb the pain somehow! She would need him now. House knew he had to control his mind so that maybe he had a fighting chance of being the man to carry her through this.

So he took one, just one…

It didn't work, deep down inside he knew he would never be able to stop this kind of pain...but he went to her anyway, he had no choice. Hoping beyond all else that he could still be the strong one. Could be the man she needed him to be. When he saw her lying there, in the dark, she looked so small to him. A tiny beautiful creature so out of place in that cold stark hospital room. He stayed rooted to his place standing in the doorway for what seemed like hours, screaming internally at himself to go to her, willing his legs to move and lie down next to her; to protect her...but she had always been his protector, his strength, not the other way around. He would never admit that to her, but that was the truth.

She had sensed him there; it was too late to runaway. When she turned and locked eyes with him that was all he needed. He went to her without thinking a second longer. He apologized, wanting nothing more than to know that he wasn't too late, that she could count on him, could forgive him for not being there sooner.

House tried to stop his thoughts again in that moment. He didn't want to think about how it felt to hold her all through the night. How he had run his fingers through her hair the way she liked and soothed her to sleep by telling her dirty jokes. How he stayed awake until morning just watching her, sound asleep wrapped in his arms...he had finally given her comfort, something he always felt incapable of.

"ENOUGH!" House screamed out loud. He couldn't take it anymore. That was the past. He had driven a car through her house in order to keep her in the past! She wasn't going to be his future, wasn't going to be a part of his present. God, he had to sleep!

With that last agonizing thought, the stress of the outburst, and serious lack of any food over the last day or two, House finally got his wish. He passed out lying on the bed; a small pool of blood forming around his punctured hand, but it would not be a restful slumber...

She was there; he knew it before he opened his eyes. Standing in his doorway, just like that. He could see the rain and wind swirling behind her, making her hair flow like an otherworldly creature.

"Cuddy?" House managed to speak through his shock. She was here? In Mexico? How did she even find him?

She closed the door and walked closer to the bed. She looked scared, like she had been lost for a long time...but House only saw that in her for a second, then it was gone. In its place he saw anger, pure anger pulsating from ever part of her soul. She stopped just inches away from the foot of the bed; he could feel her rage at him more than he had ever felt anything in his life. He had invoked "Cuddy" rage many times before, he knew the process well...but this was different. He saw her struggle for words to say, for a proper way to start what he knew would be a fight, The Fight. She looked so angrily beautiful, just looking at her in that moment made House smile. He knew he shouldn't, that he would further invoke the wrath of Cuddy...but he couldn't help it.

"You're smiling!" Cuddy exclaimed loud enough to block out the crashing thunder sounds surrounding his shabby hut.

"No." House replied, forcing his smile down as best he could. He shifted so he could sit upright in bed, knowing that he didn't have the strength to stand on his feet quite yet. 'Probably better that he didn't stand,' he thought, Cuddy looked like she might knock him flat on his ass anyway."How did you find me anyway?" House asked making sure he looked serious so she wouldn't pummel him to death.

"I looked at your credit card statement. Isn't that hard to figure out especially when you've dated a private investigator in your past...Not that that's the point!" Cuddy slammed both of her hands down on the edge of the bed frame, griping it tightly. House waited for her to get it out, whatever she needed to say."Why House?" she asked, calmer than she had said anything else up to that point. "Why would you do that to my home? To me?" House shifted in bed, his leg started to feel like swords were being pushed through his thigh. He couldn't handle this, not now, not without drugs."You could have killed me! You could have killed any one of us-"

"Like him?" House cut in. He knew he shouldn't, knew he should just apologize to her. Tell her what a horrible mistake he had made.

"Don't you dare do that. Turn this around on me like it's my fault. Like I created this so you would have no choice but to drive your car-"

"I wasn't trying to kill you Cuddy. You know that I would never..." House stopped himself when he saw her face. He had to do better than that. "Look I saw you motion for them to leave the room, I knew that no one was in there and I knew Rachel was at pre-school, I would never have done-"

"Don't tell me what you would never do. Like I'm supposed to know your limits anymore." Cuddy paused, "You're crazy House." she said that last part softly, sadly. Not wanting to admit out loud that she dated a crazy person, allowed a maniac around her child.

"I'm not crazy Cuddy...I'm broken." Cuddy looked into his eyes then, their gazes locked. Neither one said anything, both frozen in each others expressions.

"And I broke you, is that it?" Cuddy said with a heavy heart.

"No. I've always been broken, and you have always known that...but when I was with you-" House cut off his own thought, he was never capable of having these kinds of discussions. Never able to handle his own admissions of failure, especially not with her...but seeing her standing there, so completely broken herself, he knew he had to try. Try for her. He owed her that much. "Cuddy, I'm sor-"

"I don't want your apologies House, that's not what I came here for."

"Then why did you come?" House said softly. She looked away, he had asked the wrong question, a question she hadn't asked herself yet. He saw her move towards the door. It was too much for him to handle. He wasn't ready for her to leave, to walk out on him again. He needed to be in her presence, even if she hated him now; he still needed her with him. House used all the strength he could muster to go to the door, to stop her from leaving forever.

"Cuddy, please don't...stay and yell at me." He grabbed her arm, gently. Just touching her was amazing, that feeling would never die, never weaken. It pulsated through his entire body.

"House please..." she didn't turn around and meet his gaze, but she allowed him to keep his hand on her. That was all he needed. He guided her back to him, turned her around so she had to face him; had to meet his eyes once again. He was going to kiss her. She knew it, but she didn't stop it. House let go of her arm and put both hands up to her face, caressing her cheeks. He started to wipe her tears away, tears that he had put there. It was an action he had never been able to do before. House leaned into her then, knowing that he needed more, needed to feel her lips again, and she was going to give him his chance! He kissed her then, hesitantly, like he had that morning she came to him in the bathroom. He didn't want to scare her, but he didn't want to give her time to react, to realize she should pull away.

House never wanted this moment to end...she was the only thing that ever made sense...and he wanted to be lost in her touch forever…

Then suddenly she was gone, like she had disappeared through the doorway. It didn't make sense! House screamed out after her, pleading for her to come back, as loud as he possibly could. He could see her running away through the rain, but he couldn't reach her. Something was holding him back! He had to touch her again, she couldn't be gone…

"Wait!" House sat up shaking. His heart beating like it would burst out of his chest. It took him a moment to realize the dream. To accept it as just another hallucination, another horrifically concocted piece of fiction that his tortured mind could come up with. He had to catch his breath, slow his heartbeat down. House sat still trying to shake the dream, shake the fear out of his body. She had felt so real, so close to him, and he got to touch her, caress her face.

He needed to do that again! House had never been so sure about anything else in his entire life. He needed to do it again, in reality this time; he needed to fix her pain. His pain…

He needed her.

"RING…RING…" The ringing of the phone startled House back into the present. He hesitated, and debated whether or not to answer. "RING..." it couldn't be anyone he knew, no one knew where he was. "RING…" House glanced at the doorway, chancing a sliver of hope, but he came up empty. "RING…" He finally reached out to answer.