It was close to six months since Amber had died. Six months and Wilson was still not ready to forgive him. Oh! They talked but to Gregory House, it felt like something was irreparably broken. There had been no monster trucks, no bowling nights. They had barely interacted outside the hospital. Wilson took frequent trips to his family or to that of Amber's, and Gregory House stayed behind with his piano and his Vicodin.

His hands played a melody on the piano as his mind wandered into his thoughts. He had reduced his Vicodin, in hopes that at least that would gain Wilson's attention, but there had been no questions. Which was not surprising since Wilson wasn't his prescribing doctor anymore. His absence in the first two months after the bus crash had forced him to switch to Cuddy. Surprisingly, she had not questioned him much.

Cuddy.

Something had changed there. He still didn't know what but he was sure something had. She had stopped questioning his Vicodin intake. Not that there was anything to question there - he was down to the controlled schedule of the painkiller - House couldn't help but scoff at that word. She still bantered with him skilfully. She still set her foot down when she thought he was doing a risky procedure. But there was something else. He really believed there was a mystery there.

He remembered Cuddy from Michigan. She hadn't been Cuddy then - just Lisa. He remembered their first meeting in the bookshop. Then the endocrinology class and finally the dance. She had been his first girlfriend but of course, he messed it up. Got expelled and left. He had thought about calling her later but then realized it would be wrong. Lisa Cuddy deserved someone better and he would never be that someone.

He had met her again. Was it fate? He doubted that. But she had been there. She had believed him about the pain, got him the treatment. And the debridement. But that hadn't been his decision. He never blamed her though. He would have probably done the same as a doctor. He never blamed her. He blamed everyone but her.

She stayed. Offered him a job in her hospital and stayed. She had always been there since then. Even when he fucked up. Especially when he fucked up. She had been the constant in his life until now. Now, he had lost her. He would never have her. He was happy for her - and for the kid - but he could never be around children.

Rachel Cuddy.

The kid had no idea how lucky she was to have Cuddy as her mom. Cuddy would protect her, would keep her safe. Cuddy would be there for Rachel no matter what. House remembered telling her that she would suck as a mother. He remembered the pain in her eyes. He remembered realizing that she had just had a miscarriage. How could he have done that? He hoped his words after Joy had been taken away from her had helped some. He closed his eyes, remembering the feel of her lips. He would never forget her, even if he never had her.

She cared about him; he knew that. He would never understand why but she did. The fear in her eyes when the gunman had him hostage was something he could never forget. She had been disappointed when he had chosen the puzzle over his life. But his life wasn't that important, was it? Maybe disappointment was the reason why she had not acknowledged the desk. Or maybe because he had demeaned her by touching her breast.

Wilson had been angry too. He had lectured House in a true Wilson fashion but that hadn't changed everything between them. Somethings maybe but still not fine. He was gone this weekend too. House wondered if things would ever go back to normal. His phone rang and he picked it up. It was his mom. He rubbed his thigh and answered the call.

His father was dead.

House heard as his mother asked him to come for the funeral and give a eulogy. He refused. She insisted. He still refused. She told him she was disappointed in him; disappointed that he would not end the war. He cut the call.

Leaving his piano, House dragged himself to the kitchen and pulled out his scotch. At least this time he wouldn't need a ride.

House walked into PPTH at eleven the next day. Cuddy wasn't here - of course, she wasn't. She had taken a leave to stay home with her daughter. Cameron was supposed to be Acting Dean. House would enjoy tormenting her. What surprised him was that Wilson wasn't here as well. Dr. James Wilson didn't skip work for no reason. What could have happened? He sat in his office, throwing his ball and thinking about the latest mystery. His team was away, looking for a new and interesting case.

The familiar clacking of heals made him look outside his office. What was Cuddy doing here? Wasn't she supposed to be home with her kid? Why was she at the hospital? The others in the lobby wondered the same thing but Cuddy ignored them. She opened the door to his office and stepped inside.

"Already bored of your kid?" House asked. He continued to juggle with his ball but took in her appearance. She looked perfect, like she always did but House could see that she was on the edge about something. She had spent some sleepless nights too probably. He wasn't surprised when she ignored his question and sat on the chair opposite him.

"I need to talk to you about two things," Cuddy said. Yep, definitely on the edge about something.

"Whatever it is, I didn't do it," House replied.

"Stacy called." House caught the ball in his hand and gave Cuddy his attention. "Mark's gone. About six months ago. She wants a change, wants her old job back."

House understood what she was asking. "You are asking advice about your staff? Maybe you could fire Harrington from paediatrics or -"

"Greg."

He paused. It had been almost twenty years since she had called him Greg. He remembered the last time clearly. She had been in his arms, regaining her strength after their activities. He knew she was thinking about it too. He had never expected her to refer to that time of their lives. They hid it from everyone - even Wilson. They had never discussed it in all these years. But she had drawn attention to it. She was asking him for the truth. He could lie to Cuddy but Lisa would always get what she wanted.

"You remember that death row guy?" House asked her. He had turned to look away from her but he still saw her nod. "Cameron found a patient in the clinic. Came in with a cough. It was lung cancer. She knew it. Wilson confirmed it. I confirmed it." He remembered that day as clearly as ever like most of the days in his life. "She wanted to do a differential - wanted another diagnosis. I told her the five stages of dying, Denial - she went to two experts for confirmation on something she already knew. Anger - she wanted me to help the woman, instead of the inmate. Bargaining - she agreed to extra clinic hours in return of more tests. Depression and acceptance - Wilson dealt with those." House took a breath. His eyes found his bad thigh as his hands massaged it. Cuddy had been silent during all of this and he was thankful to her. "I never reached the final stage. I have not forgiven Stacy and I don't know if I can. If she can live with that, then I have no problem. Foreman can deal with her."

He stopped talking then. When Stacy had come back to the hospital last time, House had wanted to get back with her. He wanted her to suffer with him. He was no going to repeat the same thing. He didn't want Stacy anymore. He hadn't forgiven her, like he told Cuddy. But she was not someone he wanted to share his pain with - even for revenge.

"Wilson called," Cuddy said. House looked at her - part grateful that she wasn't about to discuss his confession and part curious. "Your mother called him. She wants you at the funeral." House rolled his eyes. "Wilson wants me to drug you."

House looked at her in surprise. Wilson wanted her to drug him so that he could take him to the funeral. There would be no conversation. The decision had been made and he had to follow it. His thigh screamed at him as his fingers dug into it. "So, how are you going to do it?" he asked bitterly, looking away. It was the perfect plan, he had to give them that. He would have doubted it if Wilson had offered him something.

"I am not going to do it," Cuddy said. "Just wanted to warn you." Was it a trick, House wondered. "No game. No trick. If you have to be drugged to be taken to your father's funeral, something is wrong. And it can't be solely on you." House looked at her, searching for the lie in her eyes. He found nothing. "I remember what you had said to me." I hate him. "I am sorry I wasn't listening then." She stood up. "If you are looking for a place to hide, might I suggest the clinic," she made one final quip before starting to walk away.

House had an urge to stop her. All his life, everyone had looked at his relationship with his father and reached to the same conclusion. Greg House must have been a handful child and his poor father must have had so much trouble raising him. And now, as an adult, Greg wasn't even grateful. But she had listened to him. She wasn't the first person he had said it to. Others had rolled their eyes but she had listened.

"If," House spoke right before Cuddy opened the door. "If someone did to your kid what he did to me, you would kill that person."

He wondered how she would react. Would she believe him? Would she mock him? He had always told House that no one would ever believe him. But Cuddy had listened. Maybe she would believe him too. She was standing near the door, her hand in the air. She dropped the hand a few seconds later and turned to him. House saw pure fire in her eyes.

"You can come to my place. Wilson would never suspect."

House looked into her eyes for anything but all he found was fury. He loved seeing that look on her face, even if the anger was directed towards him. Today, it was directed towards his father. She was angry on his behalf. It was such a foreign feeling that he didn't know how to deal with it. He stared at her. She seemed to catch onto that.

"House - Greg -"

His phone rang that moment and he gestured her to wait. It was his mom, of course. Apparently, talking to Wilson hadn't assured her. She asked him to come. James would be there and he could leave after the eulogy. It had been his father's last wish and he should come. House wasn't listening to her. Wilson would be there. He could meet Wilson outside the hospital, maybe they could talk. House missed his friend. But what if Wilson didn't want to. His eyes flickered to Cuddy as he disconnected the call, not making any promises to his mother.

"Will you come with me to the funeral, Lisa?"

He saw her eyes soften. She nodded, before telling him that she would make the arrangements and would inform Wilson. House felt his heart sink a little at that. As much as he trusted Wilson, he didn't want him to know about him. "Need to make sure he doesn't call your team to drug you," Cuddy said. "I won't tell him anything else." House nodded. He watched as she left, reminding him that he had her number and address. "And I am sure you know where the key is." She walked out after that, leaving House alone with his thoughts.

He had told her. He had told Lisa Cuddy his deepest and darkest secret. He had told her what he had only told one person until now. Eve. But he would never meet her again. He had to work with Cuddy. He had to work for Cuddy. How did he know that she wouldn't use this information against him? She wouldn't. The answer was so firm in his mind that it threw him off. Did he really trust her to that extent? He did. She was the one who stayed, even when everyone left. She was the one who had his medical proxy - and that said a lot, given what his last proxy had done. There was a reason he could work under her. Despite all his mocking about her not being a real doctor, she was the one whose medical judgement he trusted the most - after himself.

Sure, that she wouldn't use his confession against him, he returned to the differential. She would pity him, he was sure. He didn't want her pity. He wanted - well -

You can't always get what you want.