Hello guys!

Here we go with the fourth chapter of this fiction! It strangely could sound like the end of it, but lol no. Let's be clear, there are a lot of things similar to what happened in the show in this chapter. I tried to make it as personalised as I could, I hope you won't get bored, it's for the storyline's sake! The other scenes that are not present here went exactly like they did in the show.

So, yeah, spoilers alert! I also took some lines directly from the episode, which I don't own. Don't sue please.

I'd like to thank everyone reviewed, followed or added the fiction to his favorites! It always makes my day! Also, Merci Lisa for the correction :*

Enjoy and let me know what you thought!

Wilson closed the car door as he sat on the back seat of Cuddy's car. She didn't wait for him to settle correctly to resume driving, though carefully. He met House's gaze in the rear-view mirror and cast him a quizzical look, confused.

"The bus driver wasn't the one I saw having a symptom. It's a coincidence," House explained.

"He wants to …" She looked at House. "Reconstruct the scene so he finds out who was that person who's presumably dying," Cuddy said, exasperated. She turned her head to look in front of her while driving.

"To save someone's life," he added in his defense.

"You should start with saving yours." Cuddy accelerated a bit.

"This is –

"Insane!" she cut him off. "You, House, are going crazy and we are agreeing to be a part of your silly little game," Cuddy sighed, turning on the left.

"No one asked you to come and agree to be a part of my little game." He resolutely looked in front of himself.

"Silly little g –

"Stop!" Wilson interfered, then paused for a second, "You two were together?" he asked.

"That's the only thing you noticed?" Cuddy replied, now irritated. "I was passing by to check on him."

"You call me pushing inside you 'passing by to check on him'?" House pointed out, avoiding her really irritated gaze. He wished he could disappear.

"You were probably pushing inside yourself while dreaming."

"Anatomically possible." Cuddy sighed deeply and prayed they would reach the reconstitution scene as quickly as possible. "But your –

"We don't want to know," Wilson cut him off, not buying it. "How did you know the bus driver was a coincidence?"

"A hallucination," he answered, taking two pills from the bottle in his jacket.

"You really need medical care," Wilson sighed.

"See." Cuddy glanced at House before parking the car, her eyes reflecting tiredness. "What's that?" she asked, gesturing to the bottle of pills he had in his hand.

"Candies," House said, putting it on his pocket.

Cuddy curved her lips in a confused expression and removed her seat belt, letting go. They glanced at the bus parked in an abandoned basket ground. House's teams were there, talking near the vehicle. Cameron gestured in their direction as she saw them, urging them to come. Wilson got out of the car first, closing the door in a soft push. He made a few steps when House started to unlock the car door.

"Hey," she stopped him. He looked at her, a hand on the car door. "I don't want anyone to know you were pushing inside me. At least not before we talk. Seriously," Cuddy said, looking into his eyes and running her tongue onto her lips.

He nodded, silently accepting before he resumed opening the door and got out. Cuddy took a second, breathed deeply and cut the engine off before following the two men.

Wilson stared at Chase as he prepared Amber for the protective hypothermia, his mind was muddled and he couldn't think straight. He turned on the bypass machine and looked up at Wilson as he nodded. Wilson bitterly bit his lower lip as he tried to take control of himself and looked at House, then at Amber again.

"Protective hypothermia," he'd said as he had stopped him from restarting her heart.

"Freeze her? Her heart isn't beating," House had shot, his fingers searching for a heartbeat on Amber's neck.

"If we restart her heart, whatever she has, it'll gain her brain and kill it. Freezing her will bring us time to find out," Wilson had begged him, alternating looks between House and Amber's unconscious body.

"It's not a solution ..."

"It's Amber, House." They'd exchanged a look. "Please," Wilson had whispered.

With a nod, House had ordered a cold saline solution and Wilson had obeyed.

When Wilson looked in House's direction again, he wasn't there anymore. Neither was his team.

"You were together?" Taub had asked, after a quick first differential.

"Dunno," House had said, sitting at his desk, massaging his temple.

"Getting better?" he had asked, gesturing to his head.

"No. And it's getting worse with you trying to play detective."

"You were in the bus together, maybe you two met at the bar, too," Taub had continued, ignoring him. "How much of those did you take?" he had added as House had swallowed two Vicodin. "This is the doctor talking."

"Lost count," House had replied, putting the bottle onto the desk. "I wasn't having an affair with her."

"Maybe it was the first time," he had suggested, but had regretted it when House cast him a dark look. "I was thinking about drugs."

"Tell me when you get the negative results."

Taub had nodded and had got out of the office, leaving House to his thoughts.

House didn't move since the discussion he had with Taub. He couldn't negate that he could've been right, that he and Amber could've met at that bar for something not as innocent as he was trying to convince himself. Drunk, he wasn't aware of his actions, after all.

He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the diagnostic, questions would come later. The sudden low light made him open his eyes; it was barely 4 p.m. His whiteboard is facing him, a black pen is in his hand when he looks down. He stands up, limps to the board and writes 'Drugs' on it, before drawing a huge question mark next to it.

"Are you okay?" the voice behind him says.

Electricity.

Cuddy was attending to Amber when House limped in the ICU room, she looked up, quizzical. Wilson didn't seem to notice him, sitting near Amber and caressing her head while murmuring soft words in her ear.

"Can we talk?" House asked Cuddy, approaching the bed.

She looked up to meet his gaze, and nodded while watching Wilson. He just nodded before giving all his attention to Amber again. "Sure," Cuddy said, following him outside.

"Deep brain-stimulation," he announced when she closed the door behind her.

"Wh… House, no," she objected, getting what he wanted to do.

"It has been proved that –

"That in normal time it's dangerous, and in your case fatal," Cuddy cut him off, crossing her arms onto her chest.

"I can handle it," he said, tightening his grip on his cane, frowning. He knew she was right but…

"Find another way, but you're not touching that brain, House," she said firmly, her eyes not hiding her worry. "And, hey, have some rest."

"Why are you so worried now?" he asked her, stepping towards her.

"I don't know, maybe because you have a five centimeters scar and want to open you head so you can electrocute it?" she suggested, resting her back on the wall. "Find another way."

He nodded, defeated, and headed back to the DDx room as his team paged him. Cuddy watched him as he walked through the corridor and entered the elevator, and regained the room to tell Wilson that House wanted him to come.

He laid on the armchair, his feet resting on the footrest while his dark jacket covered his chest. House closed his eyes, hoping he could find sleep this time. All his body was aching and his mind wouldn't let him rest, he was overthinking. They'd gone to that bar, came back with an hypothesis to be thrown in another direction after he'd hallucinated her again. Hepatitis B was out of the way, and the cultures came back negative; the other tests they'd run too. And now, her brain was affected.

"You should go home," a gentle voice said.

House opened his eyes, expecting to see Amber again. Beside the diagnostic, the hallucinations he had were perturbing him. He was confused, and the amnesia wasn't helping. What happened was unknown to him, and he hated that. He hated what his hallucinations suggested.

He met Cuddy's gaze and found himself smiling, seeming to be relieved to see her. She returned the smile, her shoulder leaning against the doorframe and her arms crossed on her chest. "I'm good," House replied, turning into a half-sitting position. She easily guessed he was hurting so much he couldn't go home that night. Cuddy only nodded in the quasi-obscurity, as she tilted her head to the side.

"Wanna talk?" he asked her as she was still in the doorframe.

"I don't know," she teasingly answered. "You?"

"It depends," House said, implicitly inviting her to come closer, which she did.

He moved a bit to make her a place where to sit when she arrived at his height. She took place on the armchair, facing him. "What are you thinking about?" she started.

"Amber," he sincerely said, looking at the Vicodin pills on the coffee table. "I keep hallucinating her."

Cuddy remained silent, following his gaze and then, looking at him again. "She gives me keys, but she's so enticing…" House continued. "And it's my subconscious, I …"

"You wouldn't do that," Cuddy tried to reassure him, running a hand in her hair. She put her elbows on her knees and looked intensely at him.

"I was drunk."

"Even drunk," she insisted. A tiny smile appeared on his lips.

"Is it jealousy I see there?"

"I have nothing to be jealous about. Not yet," she said, knowingly. His smile widened. "Have some sleep, you'll figure it out tomorrow."

"You won't tuck me in?" he innocently asked.

She giggled. "No, you naughty boy," she said, leaning over to kiss the corner of his lips. "Goodnight."

A hint of a smile was still on his lips as he whispered a 'goodnight', but she was already gone. He moved into a more comfortable position and closed his eyes, adjusting the jacket on his shoulders. He fell asleep with the thought that she was the only good outcome of what was happening.

The cafeteria was empty. Empty and plunged into darkness. Only one chair was occupied by a man. His shoulders were slumped and his head drooping, he was giving her his back but she could guess the expression of deep sadness and despair that painted his face during the two past days. She approached him.

"Thank you," he politely refused when she proposed him a cup of coffee. She nodded, sitting down in front of him. Wilson raised his head to see her face, she worriedly was looking at him. "He'll find out what's wrong with her, I know that. But I'm afraid it'd be too late," he said, shocking his head. He needed to talk to someone.

"Or after he kills himself?" Cuddy said, raising a bit the tone of her voice. "He's overthinking, abusing meds, already has a fractured skull and now wants a…"She stopped, realizing she got a little bit carried away. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be telling you this," Cuddy apologized.

"What is it, Cuddy?" Wilson asked, now worried. And intrigued.

"It's nothing, forget it." She took her head in her hands and inhaled deeply before looking at him again.

"He's my friend, I need to know," he insisted. "Cuddy."

A sigh escaped her mouth as she damned the slip of her tongue. "Deep-brain stimulation," she informed him, not giving him details, she already knew he'd understand what she was referring to. "I already told him it was out of the question."

Wilson only nodded.

Cuddy angrily slammed the prep room's door open. Chase raised both eyebrows and shrugged before leaving her alone with Wilson. He cast her a quick look before resuming washing his hands for the intervention.

"I didn't tell you about it to make him do it, Wilson," she started, washing her hands, too.

"I… I didn't push him to," he argued, not looking at her.

"No, you only guilted him into doing it!"

"It's not –

"It'll kill him, Wilson!" she almost yelled. She rapidly dried her hands and wore a green blouse.

"I know it's selfish but I love her, Cuddy!"

"And I love him!" Cuddy said, this time yelling.

Silence filled the air with her words. Cuddy looked down, realizing what she'd just said.

"So… It was true? You…" Wilson asked, still shocked.

"I don't know yet." She pushed the operating room's door as she looked at him. "Don't worry, I'm just saying goodbye. Just in case."

With that, she entered the surgery, leaving Wilson behind her.

"You're an idiot," she accused, approaching him. He looked at her, seeming relieved she came.

"Hey."

"Hey," Cuddy whispered, trying to hide the emotion in her voice.

"You're here to make me change my mind?" he asked.

"No. But you still are an idiot," she said, leaning over to be at his height. He slightly giggled. "Try not to die," came her murmur.

"Yep!" House said, falsely enthusiast. "You'll be there to tuck me in?" he asked mischievously. Both of them knew it was a cover, an attempt to cool down the atmosphere.

"If you're very good." They smiled at each other.

He slowly opened his eyes, blinking at the light of the ICU room. It was dim, though. He looked at his side and saw her, sitting beside his bed on an uncomfortable chair. House squeezed her hand when he felt it grazing tightly his. Cuddy immediately opened her eyes and stood up, coming closer to him. She caressed gently his head, inciting him to stay calm. He opened his mouth but she shook her head.

"Shh, you need to rest."

"Can you…" He couldn't articulate his demand, and not only because he just came out of a coma. But strangely, there was no need to finish his request.

He pulled aside a bit, and she understood. Carefully, she leaned beside him, her head resting on his shoulder with her hand on his chest. He encircled his arm around her and closed his eyes, trying not to think about the look Wilson had given him minutes ago.

"You're mad at me?" he asks, looking up at her.

"No. I don't agree with what you did, but I understand you."

Wilson nods, sighing as he tried to hide his emotions. "How is he?" he asks her when she sits beside him on the bench.

"Out of coma. Sleeping." She touches his arm. "How are you?"

"Bad. But it's time to let her go," he murmurs, biting his trembling lip.

"She could survive a few hours on bypass…" she starts. "We can –

"It'd be so cruel… No…" Wilson objects weakly, but couldn't finish.

"Wake her up. See her, one last time. And tell her what she means to you," Cuddy continues, encouraging. "I'm sure she would want it to go this way," she adds, hugging him as he leans toward her and takes her in his arms.

"I'll see House first," he says after a while.

He tried not to think about everything but the reassuring warm body stuck to his. Both of them slept after a while, accepting each other's presence in that new way.

Talking wasn't necessary after all, acts were much more significant.

TBC...

Please let me know if you liked it... Or not!

Merry Christmas to everyone who's celebrating it!