Staring at the familiar entrance to the hospital shouldn't have felt so heavy, but somehow it felt exactly that to House. He huffed, his hand gripping tightly on his backpack strap, he felt the unfamiliar anxiety building up in his chest, like he wanted to turn around and go home. He would have done exactly that if he hadn't promised Stacy that he'd go back to work without causing a scene, and in return she would continue to stay the night at his place. Typically House would scoff at the idea of being bribed by being told to behave in order for them to stay at his place, but somehow Stacy had him wrapped around his finger. He had no idea how this happened. He liked his space, he liked being alone, and he certainly laughed at anyone who told him that he needed to be on his best behaviour. Stacy, though…. It was like she could tell him to do anything and he would perform at 110%.

Ripping the bandaid off, House pushed the doors open, going inside and keeping his head down, the opposite of how he usually came into work. He made sure everyone knew he was at work. He was loud and obnoxious, purposely upping how he came across just to annoy his coworkers and his team. In a way, he would play it up just to get Wilson's attention, good or bad.

Even though he couldn't tell if it was true or not, House felt like everyone was staring at him as he made his way to the elevator. He looked up for a moment, spotting Cuddy at the reception lobby desk for an unrelated reason. Like a sixth sense of some kind, Cuddy glanced over his way and they made eye contact. Dammit. House bit the inside of his cheek, pressing the close door button on the elevator a couple of times hoping that it wasn't just a fancy-looking button and that it actually did something. The sound of heels clicking grew and the doors had no sign of closing anytime soon.

"Where have you been?" Cuddy demanded, placing her hand on the elevator door that had attempted to close at the last minute. Though she sounded upset, she wasn't angry-upset, more so worried-upset. "I had no idea if you were dead or alive or-"

"If you don't mind, I have to go back to my nonexistent office now," he joked with a harsh undertone that only caused Cuddy to roll her eyes.

Of course, Cuddy was upset. The one person that she saw as her own son was ignoring her, not returning anyone's calls, and wasn't opening the door for them raised some alarms. House was just lucky that Stacy and gotten a hold of her and told her that she didn't need to do a welfare check and that House was just fine. Cuddy's reaction to Stacy being the one to tell her that and not Wilson was puzzling. Typically House went to Wilson for everything, not Stacy. In fact, Cuddy had no idea that Stacy and House were close enough to where she passed information about him along.

Cuddy waited until the elevator closed before speaking, and when they did, she reached over and pressed the emergency stop button knowing that the only way she was going to be able to talk to House was to keep him trapped.

"You don't get to waltz back in here with an attitude when you were MIA," she scolded like a mother to a teenager because that's exactly what their relationship was whether or not they wanted to admit it. "Do you know how worried I was?"

"I'm sure you were-"

"I'm not done talking."

House huffed, leaning against the wall of the elevator knowing that there was no way he was getting out of his conversation, though he had hoped he could've prolonged it a bit further. He flinched a bit, rubbing his right thigh after feeling that pinch again, though it was nothing of concern seeing that it immediately went away. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to see Cuddy or Wilson right now, and he wanted them to understand that, even though he wasn't going to verbally say it. His actions were stronger than words, and if he gave them the cold shoulder, well they would be more hurt by that than anything he could say.

"Do you know how worried I was, Gregory?" She said slowly in a way to tell him that she was serious, her tone softening a bit while trying to catch eye contact with House, but he was doing a good job at looking at the empty space next to her. "I couldn't sleep. I thought you were dead."

"I wouldn't be suicidal over something stupid."

"That thought crossed my mind once or twice," she admitted, folding her arms over her chest, still looking at him. "Or, I dunno, drinking yourself into a coma. Choking on vomit in your sleep, I know how you get when you drink."

"I don't drink that much."

"You drink, you smoke, you gamble-"

"All irrelevant to why I was gone-"

"Stop."

House finally looked at her, though Cuddy couldn't quite read the expression on his face.

He knew exactly what she was going to say next.

"No," was all that House said, causing Cuddy to hold her hand out stretchered. House moved back, though that was impossible with the box that they were tucked in. "I'm not-"

"Just let me see."

"Why?"

"If you have nothing to hide then you'd show me."

Before House could protest anymore, Cuddy gently took his wrist, allowing him to pull away if he truly wanted to. His muscles were tense under her touch, but made no effort to move away from her.

"I come back to work and the first thing you want to do is see if I cut myself?" He grumbled.

"You've given me reason to believe it before," she mumbled, pushing his sleeve up.

"Funny."

"It's not funny."

When Cuddy tried moving his sleeve past his upper arm, only for House to jerk his arm away. That was the answer that Cuddy needed. She knew that he could barely regulate his emotions and when he couldn't his meltdowns could turn into something harmful. She knew of House's poor coping skills, one that he wished he could stop, but he couldn't fight the habit. He wished he didn't pick up on it in the first place.

"How bad is it?" Cuddy asked quietly.

"Not bad…" he mumbled, pulling his sleeve down.

"Let me see."

House huffed as she took his arm again, pulling up his sleeve again finally moving up far enough to see the angry streaks going across his pale skin. It wasn't new for her to see something like this, especially not for him, but that didn't mean she liked seeing them. That only meant that he was hurting enough without help with any help with emotional regulation that this was the only thing he could think of to help himself.

"You should've called me…."

"Yeah."

Sighing, Cuddy dropped his sleeve, pushing the emergency button again to bring the elevator back to working order there wasn't much she could do for him now.

"Yeah? That's all you're going to say?"

"…yeah…."

Great. He was starting to shut down, on his first day back no less. God, if Cuddy knew that he was going to be back today then she would have had a different game plan. The last thing they needed was for him to have a meltdown in front of Vogler when it was the first time he'd been around the hospital. Surprisingly, Vogler had been asking about House's whereabouts the entire time he'd been on his unofficial leave, though surely it was only so he could hear the good news that Cuddy fired him.

"Yeah," Cuddy quietly echoed once the elevator was brought up to the second floor. "C'mon, let's go to my office. I'll patch you up."

She expected House to argue, to lie and say that he was fine and he could handle it himself, but he was so shut down that he only nodded, following behind her. House could feel eyes on him as he gripped his backpack straps. If he were in his typical mind space he wouldn't have been afraid to call them out on it, but right now he didn't want to exist.

Once Cuddy closed her office door behind them, she expected House to be more open about what he had been up to and what was going on in that mind of his. She didn't care what it was or how bad it was, she needed to know. House was like a son to her, so if he was in a bad headspace then she needed to know that.

"Sit," was the only thing Cuddy said, motioning towards the couch.

Again, she assumed that House was going to make a smart comment or argue with her, but he was silent besides the huff he let out as he slid his backpack off from his shoulders before plopping down. She nodded at his choice, moving behind her desk where she took out her first aid kit.

"You should've called me," she said again, sitting next to him on the couch before rolling up his sleeves. She checked to make sure he wasn't covering up anything else, the last thing she wanted was to miss anything. "You know you could-"

"I don't want to have his conversation-…." He paused, flinching slightly as the stinging of the rubbing alcohol burned his cuts and marks on his upper arm. "…again."

"We're going to have this conversation as many times as I have to so I can drill it through your thick skull."

They were silent as Cuddy took her time cleaning up his wounds. They weren't deep, thankfully, but that didn't matter. What did matter was the fact that House was doing this in the first place. With all the resources they had and everything Cuddy offered him to talk to somebody for help, he still wouldn't take it and she had to learn eventually that if he didn't want help then he couldn't be forced, but she wasn't ready to accept that yet. Deep down there was hope for him, Cuddy just had to dig it out of him.

Why didn't House want help? Was it that he was too stubborn to admit that he needed help, or did he truly not believe that he needed it? Whatever the reason was, he needed to at least talk to somebody instead of bottling everything inside. While Cuddy and Wilson didn't know everything about House's childhood, from what they gathered from his bits and pieces of sharing, they could already tell that it wasn't exactly a good one. They knew that House moved around a lot due to his father's military background. They also knew for sure that House's mother wasn't well mentally, but she did her best with him. Other than that, they didn't know anything else.

"There…." Cuddy mumbled, wrapping the last bandage around his upper arm before closing the first aid kit. "You're such an idiot," she added, knowing that House wouldn't take it personally, because he was, in fact, being an idiot not using a support system that he knew he had.

"How?" He looked over at his arm, doing what he could not to look Cuddy in the eye, sensing that she was in her motherly phase right now.

"You shut me out when you hurt yourself…. That makes you an idiot."

"They were small cuts," House mumbled as if that made any difference. "I just wanted to be alone, that's not a crime."

He wanted to be alone. He had been alone for almost a week after being forced to step down from his position otherwise he would have been terminated. That entire time he had been on a drinking bender; if he wasn't drinking he was sleeping. Whenever anybody had tried calling him or went over to his apartment to check on him he didn't answer, of course, people were going to be worried about him. In fact, Cuddy was one day away from calling the police to have them do a welfare check on him to make sure that he was still alive. Whatever it was to push him to come back to work, Cuddy was thankful for it. She wouldn't know what to do if the news broke that he had done something stupid to himself.

"Yeah, small cuts make it all better," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes at his attempt to make the situation seem smaller than it really is. She was almost disappointed in him. "Angry at everyone?" She repeated, sounding skeptical. "House, you can't just shut yourself away, it's not healthy and you know that."

Cuddy stood up, moving to put the first aid kit back to where it came from before leaning against her desk, studying him for a moment.

"I know you think you need to deal with everything on your own, but sometimes you need to let people in, especially if you're so angry that you end up hurting yourself."

"Only because I can't hurt Vogler," House grumbled looking away from Cuddy so she couldn't see his face. He was already feeling too vulnerable, he didn't want her or anyone else to feel bad for him.

Cuddy furrowed her brow in worry and frustration. Even though House was trying to keep his cards close to his chest he was doing a terrible job at doing so. Cuddy always had a trick of seeing through his pathetic attempt at hiding his emotions. She always joked it was her motherly instincts, but it's been proven time and time again that she knew how House was feeling even before he could. She couldn't help herself when she reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I know Vogler's been a pain in the ass, but you can't let him get to you like this, House. You're better than this."

"He demoted me and you let it happen."

"We're not going through this again."

"Because you feel bad?" House questioned, looking back up at her. "Or is it something else?"

"Listen. I know Vogler has been a thorn in your side, but don't let him destroy your life, okay?"

"And this is the part where you give an emotional speech?"

"…you have so much to offer, House, and I'm not going to let him take that away from you."

"I got demoted."

"And I'm sorry, just… can you please promise me that you won't shut yourself away? Please? Talk to me, yell at me, something!"

"You say you're not going to let him take anything away from me but you let him demote me!"

Cuddy sighed, trying to figure out what she wanted to say without making this conversation worse. She had a couple of tries to direct him away from having a meltdown, but she didn't know what to say that would make things better. Something that helped during a previous meltdown didn't mean it helped for the current one. There was always one thing that Cuddy did that silently told House that she understood where his mind was at and wanted to help. Going behind her desk again, she grabbed a small stress ball before tossing it his way; House wasted no time catching it, squeezing it as tight as he could as he let out a huff. It was a small act, but one that House appreciated.

"It's hard to come to you with shit when Vogler's constantly at your side," he said, tossing the ball between his hands as a way to distract himself and keep his thoughts from drifting off somewhere dark.

When Vogler proposed to Cuddy that they needed to 'demote' House, that didn't mean anything on paper, as it was more of an emotional attack. The only thing that House was losing being demoted was the title of being the Head of Diagnostic Medicine. The demotion didn't touch anything else; his pay was the same, his benefits stayed the same, and he worked with the same team. That title meant a lot to him and everyone knew that; he had to work hard and more than others to show that he wasn't too young for the field that he was in, and being that Cuddy had to make an entire department for him showed everyone he was allowed to be a doctor. That he wasn't just someone playing doctor. What hurt most was that Wilson was the one who took on the department in House's place and Vogler knew that.

Cuddy was feeling both a wave of frustration as well as sympathy for the situation that House was in. Vogler was making everybody miserable, but House was feeling the heat more than anyone just to prove a point that he ran this hospital, not House. There were times when Cuddy looked in the mirror and couldn't believe the person looking back at her allowed some businessman decide how to run her hospital. She spent years working hard to prove herself that she was capable of being able to run a hospital, but in this field, it was favoured for men to be Dean of Medicine. Maybe this is why she felt so drawn to House, taking him under her wing and treating him like one of her own, because he knew exactly what it felt like to have to work harder than anybody else to prove himself.

"Listen… I know it's not easy right now, okay? But don't think for a second that losing that title changes who you are or the incredible doctor that you've become. It's just a title, not your talent or dedication." She saw that House was about to interrupt her, but she stopped him immediately. "You are still the Head of Diagnostics in every way that still matters, okay? Nobody can take that from you."

"It's your hospital. Tell him to fuck off."

Cuddy sighed as she folded her arms over her chest, figuring that would be the first thing he'd say. House wasn't good with emotions and was a complete idiot when it came to responding to anything that came close to praise. It's like his mind couldn't process the praising words in order to say something humble in return. Though, being humble wasn't something that House was able to do. It was always: 'yeah, I know' when being told he was right. What she wished that House would process was that the reason that they needed Vogler was because of the money that he donated to the hospital. This year was the biggest in the legal department because of House; their machines and software were outdated and they were due for upgrades that they were struggling with because of House. They needed that stupid money, therefore they needed Vogler, no matter how hard it was to admit.

"It's not that simple, House," she said, her frustration leaking out into her tone. "The hospital, unfortunately, needs Vogler's money. Our equipment is outdated, meaning we can't provide the proper care to our patients." She looked away a moment, trying to figure out the best way to explain this so House could understand. "I have to walk a fine line here, House. I'm not going to let anybody walk all over me, but I have to make sure our hospital has proper funding."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," he mumbled as he stood up.

The moment House put any weight on his right leg, it immediately gave out, causing him to drop to the floor with a pain shooting up from his thigh to his hip. He had no idea what happened. Did he trip? Did his leg fall asleep and he somehow didn't notice?

"Fuck…." He mumbled, pushing himself to sit on the floor, and massaging his thigh to help ease the stabbing pain.

Cuddy's eyes widened with concern as she saw how suddenly House's leg gave out on him for seemingly no reason. She didn't waste any time moving to his side, kneeling down next to him to figure out what the hell just happened.

"House, are you alright?" She asked urgently, putting a hand on his back, "What's wrong?" Her brows furrowed as he attempted to stand up, only for her to guide him to sit back down on the floor in case something else happened. "Don't try to get up yet, let me look at your leg first."

"No, it's fine, I just… tripped," he didn't at all try to sound like he believed his own words because he didn't. Whatever happened he could figure out himself, that, or it truly was nothing. Seeing that Cuddy didn't look convinced by his words he huffed again. "You don't need to look, it's fine!"

Cuddy didn't listen to him, as she was already rolling up his pant leg with little protesting coming from House surprisingly. It was either because he knew that Cuddy wouldn't let it go, or that he didn't believe himself that he was fine, whichever it was, it didn't matter. Once she had a look at his thigh, she could see the muscles twitching and spasming underneath which would explain the pain that he was in.

"That looks fine to you?"

"It's just a muscle spasm…." He mumbled again, massaging his thigh in hopes that the pain would go away shortly.

Cuddy scoffed.

"I'm not lying! It's just a muscle spasm!"

"A muscle spasm doesn't typically cause your leg to give out, and it certainly doesn't warrant the amount of pain you're in."

"It's not-…" He huffed in frustration. "I need some painkillers." Though when Cuddy returned with a couple of Tylenol, House only tilted his head. "Tylenol…? Have anything different?" The only reason he asked was because he knew from the amount of pain he was in wouldn't be cured by simple Tylenol.

Cuddy paused, looking at House with a mixture of concern and caution in her eyes at his request. It wasn't like House ever asked for painkillers before, but with his recent behaviour, she had every right to be wary that he wanted something more than that.

"I can't give you anything stronger than this, you know that."

"God, you're acting like I'm asking for a narcotic," he said, rolling his eyes as he took the pills from her, kicking them back without any water. "I was thinking… Dantrolene?"

While Dantrolene wasn't a narcotic, she was still uncertain about the request for a different medicine. He had asked for a painkiller, not a muscle relaxant…. Maybe she would have considered giving him something like that if he wasn't just on a week-long drinking bender without ghosting everyone.

"I'm not sure if that's a good idea right now, House," Cuddy said slowly as to choose her words carefully. "Given your recent… binge, I don't want you to overdo anything and hurt yourself."

"So you're going to make me suffer with Tylenol?" It was clear from his tone that he was getting frustrated, but Cuddy was always careful with giving out medicine to people she worked with. Especially with someone who was easy to fall into addictions. "Fine. Whatever."

"I'm not trying to make you suffer, but I can't in good conscience give you anything stronger, not with the way you've been acting lately."

"Boohoo I had a couple of drinks," House mumbled, pushing himself to stand up, wincing at the pain in his leg, trying his best to ignore it.

Seeing how he was struggling to stand, Cuddy's concern was only growing. She stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm to help steady him into place.

"This isn't about the drinks, House," she said gently yet firmly, making sure he understood. "It's about the fact you shut yourself out for a week and refused to talk to anybody. That type of behaviour worried me, wouldn't it you?"

"So I had a depressive episode."

"That doesn't cause your leg to give out on you."

"It'll be fine!" House tried again, kicking his leg out a bit to stretch it out a bit. "I'm fine. Everything's fine."

Cuddy frowned at how dismissive he was being about this, she could see right through him and could see how much pain he truly was in. She crossed her arms again, her stance was firm as she wasn't going to back down from this.

"No, you're not fine," she said sternly, trying to get through his thick skull. "You've been anything but fine lately. Pretending that you're fine doesn't make you fine."

"Oh my god," he said, feeling more and more frustrated. "You never went on small benders in your twenties?"

Of course, she has. Everyone has. It was the fact that he went on this bender after being demoted by Vogler was what was raising red flags. He didn't have any regulation. No coping skills to deal with anything and had to have people force him into bringing him down.

"I may have had my own share of indulgences in my twenties, but I never had a history of addiction or self-destructive tendencies. And I definitely didn't shut out the world when going through a rough patch." She pinched the bridge of her nose, not knowing what else to say to get through to him. "I'm concerned because you completely checked out."

"I'm fine! See! Leg pain's gone!" House pulled his pant leg back down. "And!" He picked up the stress ball that ended up on the floor. "What am I addicted to? You act like I'm a drug addict."

Cuddy sighed, throwing her hands up in frustration. No use getting through that thick skull.

"Let's see…." Cuddy started. "Gambling, smoking, drinking, caffeine…. Self-destruction. Do I need to go on? Every time life gets hard, every time someone challenges your authority or takes away your precious title you find a way to sabotage yourself and push away people who care about you."

House was silent, trying to find some way to pick at something that wasn't true in what she just said, but there was nothing but truths. Dammit, she was good.

"I don't smoke anymore," he said, finding the smallest thing to call her out on.

"Smoke. Vape. I don't care what it is, you're addicted to it. Just…." Cuddy let out a sigh, trying to keep calm and wanting for him to have a better rest of the day. "Please… if anything else hurts or your leg goes out again… tell me. Can you do that?"

"…I will…." He mumbled. "But it's nothing.