Kelly felt guilty precisely because she didn't feel guilty. In other words, she knew that kissing House, even if it had been an impulsive, reactionary move, equalled an affront to her husband's memory and that she should be crying her eyes out to have betrayed their relationship in that way. Too soon.

But she wasn't crying. And that bothered her to no end.

Also bothersome was the not altogether unpleasant feeling she had in her stomach whenever she jumped past her mortification at her actions to his words: "But I wanted to." He was right to have pointed out that this should have been obvious to someone who had demonstrated such a heightened perspective of his moods and motives, but the reality was that she viewed herself as out of reach much in the same way House had, and so to find that any man would want to pursue the broken shell of her previous self that she had become.... Well, it came as quite a shock.

After a fitful night of sleep, she awoke far too early with too much to think about. She managed a small breakfast and then called a cab to take her to House's place. Her fever was only slightly elevated over the previous night, and knowing it took time for antibiotics to be effective she wasn't worried.

She picked up House's car and made her way to the pharmacy the hotel receptionist had recommended. Taking the next dose of pills right away, she then considered her options and decided that bed was the best she could come up with.

He was in her room when she returned. Not sleeping, just sitting at the table, watching her wordlessly. He looked exhausted and haggard and moody, and yet the feeling in her stomach returned.

"You're back," she said unnecessarily, taking a wide berth around him to the kitchenette where she started making tea. "How's your patient?"

"Dead."

"Oh." What was she supposed to say to that? There was no reason to comfort him since he likely didn't care anyway.

He limped into position behind her, lifting the back of her shirt to check her stitches. "You get your pills?"

"Yeah." The gentle touch of his hand on her skin had the unfortunate result of making her voice squeak a little.

"I'll put more ointment on these for you."

Why wasn't he moving? Why was he still touching her?

"I need you to tell me...what to do."

"House..." She couldn't bring herself to face him. Kelly's mind was racing, every thought punctuated by the resounding refrain: too soon, too soon, too soon. He was right in looking to her for guidance; how could he know how to handle this situation when she was so unsure herself?

He reached around her and hooked his cane on the edge of the counter so he had both hands free. He used them to turn her toward him, leaving them resting lightly at her waist. "Tell me."

She lifted her own hands in a gesture of helplessness. "Right now I might want you to kiss me. But I can't guarantee that in an hour I won't want to kick you out for taking advantage of a grieving widow and then find a bridge to jump off of because I can't find any way to escape my own guilt."

"MIGHT want me to kiss you? Is that hypothetical?" His tone was dark, but once again his eyes told her everything.

"Stop trying to seduce me," she told him firmly, but despite her words her own hands found his waist, drawing him closer rather than pushing him away.

He was hovering between playful and pissed when he countered, "Listen, I am very, VERY tired, and I'm not much for good judgement with women when I'm 100% awake. So your mixed signals aren't helping."

Kelly dropped her eyes for a moment, suddenly guilty again but for a different reason. "I am very, VERY tired too, and I've never been a widow before, so I'm really struggling with the balance between what I want and what I need and what other people will think."

"Screw other people," he said automatically. "This is about you."

"It's about you too, you know." She pressed on when he shook his head dismissively. "Yes, it is. You need to be happy."

"I am."

And with that offhand comment, the world seemed to stop for awhile. House's world stopped because he needed ample time to evaluate his statement, which couldn't have been true... and yet was. Kelly's stopped because of her sudden elation when she realized that despite her brokenness she was being used as an instrument of healing.

The water was boiling now and House reached behind her to unplug the electric kettle, drawing flush against her. She seized that moment to put her arms around his neck and embrace him fiercely. She felt his body stiffen, but was then delighted when he relaxed and dropped his head to rest on hers. And he was obliged to hold her close until she chose to let go.

If it had been his choice, he would have held on longer.