I've written this one-shot to soothe the awful and unnerving frustration into which the Luddy arc is plunging me against my will. I try to cope and I use every way I can... and writing is one of them!

this one-shot takes place after 6.10 "Wilson". House and Wilson live in the loft. Cuddy is still (sadly) with Lucas... unless, maybe, House finally decides to go see her and talk to her about how he really feels. and he won't give up until he makes her realize that Lucas is not the right man for her... because he knows he can't screw it up this time, since this is probably "HIS LAST CHANCE"...

I hope you'll enjoy it! please leave a review to tell me what you thought of it!

THANK YOU and HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO YOU :-) ...

** HIS LAST CHANCE **

"I heard Cuddy's boy toy will be busy out tonight, which means no private investigations at home… which means, no drum stick to play with… and that's a shame, don't you think? I mean, I feel sorry for her…"

"House ENOUGH!" Wilson cut his friend off with utter exasperation and looked at him with a tired look.

"What do you mean enough?" House replied ingenuously, licking the tip of his fingers and leaning forward over the kitchen counter "Aren't you happy we're here together, enjoying my incredibly delightful Chicken Tandoori and having a nice adult chat about our lovely boss' relationship?"

"This? It's everything except a nice adult chat whatsoever and you know it. And your Tandoori was good, but it's not the best you've done. There's too much curry in it… and you know that just as well."

House stuck his fingers out of his mouth and smirked, visibly annoyed by Wilson's underlying statement.

"Wow! It's amazing how you seem to know the things I know much better than I do… Suddenly, it feels like all my knowledge has moved from my brain into yours. But please go on, wise man, I'm sure you'll have something entertaining to say, while trying to enlighten me on the subject."

Wilson didn't pay attention to the sarcasm and carried on, twisting the knife even deeper, since he perfectly knew he had hit a sensitive spot.

"You're not comfortable with Cuddy's relationship with Lucas. You just pretend you are but you know it's a lie. You keep talking and talking about it, hoping it would exorcise the pain, when it's obvious that it's not."

"Ok so I get it: you don't want me to talk about it. Fine! You should've just said it…"

Wilson shook his head, appalled and sighed heavily.

"When was the last time you and she spoke to each other?"

"Uhm… You know that moment after I've devotedly cured my patient and she usually has to come see me to give me another case? Well that was then… two or three days ago, I guess."

"And what did you say?"

"Me? Nothing! She handed me the file and I took it, that's all."

"Ok. And what did she say?"

"She said: 29 year-old male, with abdominal pain and dehydration…"

Wilson glared at him and House stopped; then he furrowed his brows and faked to give it a deep thought.

"Let me think," he said, rubbing his chin pensively, "oh yes, I know! I think, after she handed me the file and I took it, she said something like: "Good luck"… or maybe it was "Don't screw it up"… cuz I didn't get the chance to hear it properly… Since she was already half-way out before the end of her sentence…"

Wilson sighed again and stared at his friend with sorry eyes.

"See? That's my point…You two are not at ease with each other!"

House let out an ironic laughter.

"Are you taking some psychological evening courses? Is that why you come home so late?"

Wilson ignored the comment and paused to study House's face.

"Why?" He asked.

"Ha! And here I thought you were already trying to rub your annoying explanation in my face!"

"She's with Lucas now and you've accepted it… or at least, you claim you have… So I'm asking you again: why? Why are you uncomfortable around each other? You should have moved on by now. You both should be able to act normal again. But you're not. So that means there's obviously more to it."

"Oh sorry, I was wrong, coz now is when you rub it in my face…"

"House, you two need to talk."

"No, we don't. We already tried that. We danced and we talked… and she ran away."

House set his lips and briefly looked away. Then he took a sharp breath and peered at his friend with a challenging gaze.

"That was not a talk!" Wilson countered "That barely could qualify as an attempt…"

"There's no point anyway. You said it: she chose Lucas. It's over."

A long silence settled between them, during which they sustained each other's gaze, stubbornly waiting for the other one to concede first.

"God! I can't believe I'm going to say this but… why don't you do something? Why don't you seize your chance with her?" Wilson finally said, rolling his eyes.

"Excuse me? Did you just say what I heard you just said? You're the one advising me to break up their happy couple now? That's not what you told me at Thanksgiving…"

"I told you I disagreed with the method… I never said I didn't support the goal…"

"Unbelievable! You never fail to amaze me, you know! One day it's "no House, she doesn't want you. Forget her." And the next one, it's "Go grab her!"

"I didn't say 'go grab her!'"

"Then what did you say?"

"I… I can't…

"What? You can't what?" House's voice rose up a notch in annoyance.

"I can't pretend I'm fine with this situation when I'm not. And you can't pretend you're fine with it either. I'm your friend. You live here and that's ok, but you know this is only a temporary life arrangement. You need to…

"Are you throwing me out?... Again?"

"No, you idiot! I'm saying I don't like to see you unhappy. Maybe… maybe there's still something you can do to change that."

"I can go back to my apartment if you want."

"No, you can't. I said to Nolan I'd take care of you until you're fine and you're not fine now. You're far from it."

"Thank you, Wilson! Your optimistic support is really what kept me going all this time, you know! I'll make sure to mention your name in the acknowledgements if I ever write my memoirs someday…"

"Yes, play the sarcasm card! Because that's what's gonna help you feel better!" Wilson interrupted him with anger in his tone. "You made progresses House. Huge ones. But that still isn't enough. You have to admit that what you need to be happy is nowhere near where you stand right now. And for that, you still need to take care of things! You need to decide what you're gonna do with your life…"

"I'm not gonna do anything with my life! My life is just fine now as it is…"

"Yeah sure! And that's why your leg is hurting more and more by the day, and also why you've been unable to sleep decently lately…"

House glowered at him, feeling caught. Yes, Wilson was right: he had indeed experienced some troubles sleeping in the past weeks, for inexplicable reasons. He went to bed, usually fell asleep quite easily, but he invariably awakened around four in the early morning and, from then on, was absolutely incapable of going back to his slumber. He had tried to read, he had tried herbal tea, relaxation… God, he had even tried to play music! Not very long though since it was hard to play silently and therefore not wake Wilson up, who at five a.m. was still sleeping like a baby.

"House! I am concerned about you… Remember where it led you the last time you started to have insomnia?"

"That was different. I was taking Vicodin then but now I'm not anymore. You're over-dramatizing like you always do. It's just the bed! The mattress is too hard for my leg… it tenses up my thigh muscle when I lie down and then it hurts, so I wake up. I should just buy a new one and everything will be ok…"

"Of course! Go buy a new bed! And then what's next? You'll buy a new pillow, because the one you have will be too soft for your head? And then a new quilt, because the one you have won't be warm enough and then…

"A new friend? Because the one I have is too annoying?..."

Wilson puffed and smiled bitterly.

"The problem is not your bed, or your leg, or your sleep… You're miserable because of her, that's your problem! You think about her all the time! And that's the only reason why you can't sleep! That's why your leg hurts!"

"I thought she was essentially known for being a pain in the ass…" House said with a mischievous grin.

"You're frustrated because you never really got your chance with her. But you still can do something about that…"

"What for? Why do I need to do anything? I tried to but it didn't work."

"Of course it didn't!" Wilson exclaimed, becoming slightly annoyed. "But please don't tell me you're surprised! How could you expect things to have come out any different? You acted like a jerk with her! You wanted to set a war. You haven't shown one ounce of sincerity towards her, except for two minutes during a dance in the middle of a crowded costumed party. Talk about intimacy! All you did was pushing her further away."

"Oh great! So you're saying this is my fault?"

"No. I'm saying, you don't win the one you want by playing games…"

House took a sharp breath and bravely stomached the provoking comment. Then he sheepishly smiled and glanced at Wilson with an almost panicked gaze.

"How do you win the one you want then?" he asked, lowering his eyes down, feeling all the uneasiness weigh on him for exposing himself more than he ever had in front of his friend.

Wilson stood up and took their empty plates. He walked towards the sink and put them inside the tray; after a short while, he walked back towards House and leaned against the counter.

"Go see her. Tell her how you really feel. Stop hiding behind your stubborn pride. Try. And if she pushes you away, which she undeniably will, then try again. Be honest…

"Is it how you coax women into having sex with you? Because it sounds so laborious!..."

Wilson gave House a 'not going there' look and straightened up, his hands on his hips, staring intensely at his friend, not saying anything, but just waiting for the appropriate reaction he knew he had triggered instead.

"What if she just doesn't want me, for real?" House finally asked, obviously feeling awkward.

"Then you'd know it, once and for all." Wilson paused, and studied House's hurt expression, "But you've spent years chasing that woman and she never gave you a clear definite 'no' answer."

"Don't you think Lucas is a clear definite 'no' answer now?…"

"Lucas is a clown!" Wilson exclaimed, so spontaneously that House couldn't repress a grateful smile.

Wilson saw that smile and he smiled too, briefly. There was not much he could add to let House know what he thought of this whole situation. It was so ridiculous anyway. He knew Cuddy and he knew House. Maybe they were not destined to live the perfect quiet happy life ever after, but they were not completely wrong for each other. Not like everything just seemed to have become lately. He still couldn't understand what Cuddy liked in Lucas. He even had asked her once, a bit provokingly, and despite the fact that she would never admit it or her stubbornness to convince herself that it was the right choice, her lack of committed clear answer had spoken volume about how confused she was then. She could pretend everything she wanted, Wilson knew her well enough to be sure that she was lying to herself. It was nothing other than a giant and sadly ironic mistake. A mistake that needed to be fixed…

"You know I'm right." He finally said, breaking the silence, "You need to do something, because it ain't over 'til it's over."

"Oh God please! Don't tell me you're quoting Lenny Kravitz now?" House exclaimed, exaggeratedly rolling his eyes, "Ok, you got me! Right! I'll talk to her, fine! Are you happy? Can we move on now?"

Without waiting for an answer, he stood up and walked to the refrigerator. He opened it and, with his hand still holding the doorknob, he leaned down and stared inside it for a long moment with an inspired look, absent-mindedly rubbing his leg with his free hand in the meantime. It was more than obvious that he was trying to buy himself some time, but Wilson didn't flinch. He waited, silently and when House finally straightened up with a piece of apple pie on a plate which was there in front of his eyes the whole time, he knew for sure that the thought process had really started.

House walked back towards the counter, carrying the plate in his hand and when he met Wilson's serene gaze on him, he widened his eyes and stared at him quizzically.

"What?" He interrogated, sounding slightly upset.

"Don't you think that the sooner the better?" Wilson told him quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you should go see Cuddy now."

House grabbed hold of his spoon and he proceeded to cut a piece of his pie almost surgically, "It can wait." He said, stubbornly ignoring his friend's advice.

"Yes, sure, it can; because there will never be a good moment for that. And that's why now is as perfect as later, just maybe a little more perfect though, since you said Lucas wasn't there tonight…"

House put the spoon down and stared at his plate and at the untouched pie with the look of a lost child. He briefly closed his eyes and then looked up at Wilson.

"Go grab her!" Wilson said with an encouraging smile.

House sustained Wilson's gaze for some endless seconds and then, all of a sudden, he plunged his hand in the glass bowl on the counter and snatched his bunch of keys. He determinedly got off the stool and, passing in front of Wilson, he then headed towards the front door. On his way there, he grabbed his coat and he left the apartment without a word.

The night was dark and the air was frosty. He had parked his car in front of her house and turned the engine off. A quick glance at her window indicated him there was light inside, but he hadn't found the strength to get out and go there yet. Instead, he was staring in front of him, trying to slow down his agitated breath, his hands forcefully clutching the steering wheel.

That was it: his last chance and he knew it. Wilson was right. He couldn't close his eyes forever and pretend not to see. He couldn't shut down his heart and pretend not to feel. He was living in pain; an awful and excruciating pain since the moment he had stepped inside her hotel room during that conference and saw him there, holding her kid in his arms.

Another man with her.

Another man with his savior. The only woman.

Twenty five years had passed since her. Twenty five years during which he had lived a miserable life, trying to adjust to people's lies, trying to adjust to loneliness, to pain, to self-destruction, self-loathing… holding on to the very few moments of happiness he'd been given. Half his life, denying evidence: she was everything he desired in a woman. She was intelligent, assertive, beautiful, funny, challenging, stubborn… it was time he stopped pretending not to feel.

The only woman. His savior.

He took a deep breath and opened the door. With a firm gesture, he grabbed hold of his cane and got off the car. Every step he took to cross the road and climb the few stairs to her porch, he could almost hear the thudding sound of his heart, coming out from his chest and echoing in the air. He arrived at her door and he bit his lips to awaken his senses and give himself some strength. He knocked, without thinking, without even knowing what he would say when she would open the door.

And she opened it. She swung the door wide open with a smile enlightening her face, but which instantly died on her lips when she saw it was him.

"House!" she exclaimed, visibly disappointed and also undeniably taken aback by his presence at her front door. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?"

"Why? What do you want?" she asked defensively, slightly closing the door and holding the doorframe tightly.

House tried to smile, reassuringly. He didn't want to see her like that, guarded, closed-up, insensitive…

"Is it a bad time?" he inquired gently, "Maybe you have to feed your kid or something."

"No, Rachel is asleep."

"And Lucas? Is he around?"

"That's none of your business…" she snapped, harshly.

House peered at her with an intense gaze.

"Cuddy… I'm just asking. Why are you so self-protective?"

She sighed and looked down, embarrassed. House was right, she was self-protective… and yet, he had done nothing wrong. She lifted her face up and looked at him with softer eyes.

"I'm alone." she confessed.

"But you're waiting for Lucas?"

"No." she said, without thinking, "Yes…", she corrected immediately "I mean, I don't know if he's going to come back tonight… I…"

House smirked and nodded.

"Nice…" he said with a bit of sarcasm in his tone, "Magnum is out and he didn't even tell you where he was! How luckier can that man get? He comes and he goes, taking what there is to take… I hope he's well aware that he's living most of men's dream for real: free union, no strings attached…"

Cuddy tightened her grasp on the doorframe and glared at House, upset.

"For the last time, House: what. do. you. want?"

"Actually, I knew Lucas was not here." He briefly averted his gaze, before planting his piercing blue eyes on her again. "That's why I came… because…"

"I thought we'd agreed that you would just do your job and ensure it would involve me the least possible in the process" she reminded him, sounding more tired than annoyed.

A sudden freezing blow of wind hit House's neck and he couldn't repress the shiver. Instinctively, he turned his collar up and huddled up in his coat. He looked at her with expecting eyes, but she didn't say anything. He sighed.

"Cuddy, it's cold out here. You used to open your door to me and let me in without so much hesitation…"

As determined as she so obviously was to keep him at reasonable distance, he had purposely triggered her sense of guilt and he knew she wouldn't be able to keep him outside any longer. She bit her lips, and resignedly, she opened the door to let him in. He swiftly stepped in, while she closed the door behind her. She turned around, facing him again, and he instantly felt shaken by her beauty. He hadn't fully paid attention to her until then, but there, unexpectedly, it hit him with no warning. She was wearing tight-fitting jeans and a V-neck tee-shirt. The bun with which she had held her hair up all day was now loosening and random ringlets of dark hair were falling around her face and into her neck. There was something self-confident and yet fragile at the same time about her, something he couldn't define but which undeniably touched him.

"Casual clothes look… good on you." he said clumsily, almost in a whisper.

She stiffened and the involuntary closeness of their bodies, scarcely standing a few feet away in her entry, suddenly became a visible source of embarrassment for her. She took a sharp breath and walked past him, heading towards her living room, mostly to have a reason to stand away from him. She stopped at the threshold and she leaned against the wall, looking up at him with a bit of exasperation.

"Ok, let's get rid of this quickly. It's late and I had a long day. So what is it? You want to drill into your patient's skull, or stop his heart while you scan his arteries?

"No, why? My patient's fine…"

Her gaze instantly changed and he saw a glimpse of puzzlement passing through her eyes. Her mouth slightly opened and her lips formed an "O" in surprise.

"Why are you here then?" She said straightening up, trying to regain composure, but confusion still showing on her beautiful tensed features.

House smirked and studied her for a brief moment. She was obviously not expecting this kind of move from him and he could tell by the way he'd immediately noticed how her chest was moving up and down faster, indicating that her breath had quickened, that her mind was probably racing with questions.

"I just came to talk." he said quietly.

Unconsciously, she took a step back.

"We have nothing to talk about." she said, dismissively.

"Why are you like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like this: distant, aggressive, scornful…"

"I don't have time for this kind of games anymore, House."

"This is not a game."

"Then what is it? What do you want?" Her voice had become manifestly louder and she'd almost shouted the last question.

He felt a lump forming inside his throat, and for a few seconds, he couldn't utter a single word. He gripped his cane's handle tightly and greeted his teeth instead, swallowing back his fear and focusing on the pain he felt growing inside his leg, caused by his uncomfortable standing position in her hallway. She was scrutinizing him, impatient, her eyes filled with anger, and it seemed his silence was unnerving her even more than anything he could have said in that moment. He thought he saw her hand slightly tremble.

"Why are you with him?" he finally asked, out of the blue.

"What?"

"Why are you with Lucas?"

"I don't think I owe you an answer to that…"

"He's a jerk." he stated assertively.

Her mouth dropped open and she puffed contemptuously.

"Of course! Because, you, of all the people, are entitled to warn me about that category of men?"

He ignored her snappish comment, for he knew he somewhat deserved it, but the fiery passion with which she had pronounced it, gave him reason to go on instead.

"He's taking advantage of you."

"What are you talking about? Lucas is always there when I need him, he's attentive and he takes care of Rachel…"

"Oh yes! What a perfect little nanny you've found here! And one that can also take good care of you, I bet. By the way, tell me, do you deduct the benefit in kind from his salary?"

Her eyes widened in shock and she looked stunned for a split second but she put herself together, took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly.

"Fine." she told him, her voice wobbling a little, "You said you wanted to talk and we've talked. You can leave now."

"You know he's not right for you," House carried on, calmly.

"What do you know about what's right for me or not?"

"I know." he answered, without the slightest hesitation, intensely staring at her. "He's not the man you need."

"Oh, and who do I need?" She snapped, provokingly, "You?"

"Maybe…"

"Listen, I've had enough of this, House. Maybe it's fun for you to systematically try and break up any relationship I have, but it's mostly tiresome for me. So just go home, find yourself another hobby and leave me alone."

"Do you think this is fun for me?"

"I don't want to discuss that with you!" she answered, infuriated.

"Why? I didn't come to jerk you around. I'm not going to make a scandal. Lucas is not even here. I just want to talk. So what are you afraid of? It's not like I could ruin anything, is it?"

She sighed and sustained his inquiring gaze for an endless suspended moment. Blush had risen to her cheeks and her chest was going up and down even faster than before. From where he stood, still in her hallway, he could hear the sound of her breath, and he could see her eyes glistening. He madly wanted to hold her in that moment, but he just stayed there, staring back at her, waiting, his hands so tightly clutched around his cane's handle, his fingertips were beginning to feel numb.

"Ok," she finally said, surrendering, with a softer inflexion in her voice, "you're right. It's pointless anyway, since you won't leave me alone until I have listened to you. So go on, tell me whatever it is you want to tell me."

House's head suddenly started to spin. He felt a little dizzy from the spinning and he almost staggered. He gulped and took a step towards. A small one, cautiously taking care of not making it look like a threatening one, but he had to come closer, he just needed to. He took that small step towards her and she didn't move.

"I met a woman in Mayfield." he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Cuddy's eyes widened and she looked at him, startled by his unexpected lead-in.

"She was not a patient." House carried on, throatily, "Just a visitor. She came to see her sister-in-law..."

"So?" Cuddy had grabbed hold of herself and she raised her chin up, looking him confidently in the eyes, "You've bonded with people. Good for you! I'm sure it helped you through your healing process..."

"I had sex with her."

"What?"

"That woman, Lydia. She and I had sex."

She took a sharp breath and closed her eyes but it lasted longer than a simple blink and he noticed it. When she opened them back, she stared at him, confused and lost. She was desperately trying to hide it and it made her look even more fragile and stubborn than ever.

"And then what?" she said arrogantly, "What point are you trying to prove? That you're fine now? That you can move on and be with someone?"

"No."

"So why are you telling me this, now? Because you think I'd care? Because you want me to care? Is that why you're here?"

"I wanted to be with her, that woman..."

House cautiously stepped towards her again and she averted her eyes. He heard her take a long wobbling breath, and she leaned back against the wall once more, almost unconsciously, as if she needed that to keep herself on her feet. She was struggling against a gush of emotions that was overwhelming her and as bravely as she was trying not to let it show, she was however incapable of hiding it. It hurt him to see her distressed and in pain like that, but at the same time and for the first one in weeks he felt immensely reassured by that evidence.

"I really thought that's what I wanted..." he carried on, "I went to her house and I begged her."

"No. We're not doing this..." she said with a pleading voice, her eyes still looking in the opposite direction.

"But that was a lie... A lie I had built to convince myself that I could forget you." he confessed, with a tender voice, slowly raising his hand towards her face.

"STOP!"

She had yelled and it took him by surprise. He froze, with his hands still up in the air and she abruptly pushed herself up away from the wall and almost ran away inside her living room. He stayed rooted to his spot for a short while and then he followed after her. When he walked in, he saw her standing in a corner, facing the wall in front of her sideboard, and twiddling nervously with a set of quartz stones in a cup. She was offering him her back and she was shivering. He could tell that she was by the way her shoulders were almost imperceptibly jerking up and down. He stepped a little further in, but he didn't come close to her.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked her evenly, "Why do you run away every time I'm trying to tell you how I feel?"

She didn't answer but he saw her head slowly shaking 'no.'

"You reacted like that when I told you I wanted to call you after the night we shared..."

"We didn't share a night. We had sex, that's all. And it meant nothing... it meant... nothing." She repeated, still facing the wall.

"Why? Is it what you've told yourself all these years? That it meant nothing? Is that why you're so angry at me now?"

"I'm not angry."

"Yes, you are. I know you are. And you have good reasons to." He allowed himself to enter farther in the room, slowly closing the distance between them, "I'm sorry," he told her, "I should have called anyway, despite the fact that I'd been fired..."

"No. It was better that way..."

"You don't know... And I don't know either... It's in the past and we can't change that... But it was more than just physical. I had feelings for you..."

"Don't do this..." She said beseechingly, and her voice started to tremble noticeably.

"Why? I'm serious. I need to do it. Why can't you hear it? What are you afraid of Cuddy?"

"I'm not afraid!"

Her voice choked with emotions and he came behind her and touched her shoulder lightly to let her know he was there.

"But you're crying," he simply stated. At the sensation of his touch on her, she swiftly turned around and they ended up facing each other, their faces barely inches away, long enough to exchange glances which shook them both to the core. His gaze was filled with all the tenderness he could offer to comfort her and hers was glistening with tears but burning with anger and all the strength she was putting in her struggle to deny her emotions.

"Yes!" she admitted accusingly, and she promptly walked away from him, "Because!... You're a selfish son of a bitch who only cares about himself! You only follow your needs and that's all. You don't care about what I want. You don't care about how I feel. The only person who matters to you is yourself!"

"That's not true."

"Then why do you do that? Why do you play with me now when you see that it's hurting me?"

"Because I love you."

"No."

"I love you, Cuddy." he repeated in a hoarse painful moan.

"Have you asked yourself if I wanted to hear that? No! You just come here, uninvited, and you throw that in my face! But it doesn't work like that! I'm not your trophy, House. You can't show up and claim me like one of your possessions."

He kept silent and stared at her intensely. She slightly stiffened, straightening herself up proudly, and she sustained his stare with a challenging look.

"It's too late." She added, raising her chin up defiantly.

"What do you mean?" he asked and a slight smile formed on the corner of his lips.

"I mean I'm with Lucas now."

"Yes. But that's not the reason why it's too late. You're angry with me but not because I'm telling you how I feel. You're angry because I'm only telling you now. You've never really wanted to be with Lucas. Lucas is not your type anyway, and he never will be. You need someone like me to turn you on."

Cuddy burst into ironic laughter, shaking her head in dismay.

"Ha! Sorry, but that's not how it goes. We're not in your delusional world anymore, House."

House stomached the painful allusion to his mental breakdown bravely, mostly because he was now sure that it had shaken her almost as deeply as it had shaken him.

"You're right," he agreed quietly, "we're not. We're in yours now."

Cuddy's mouth dropped open in astonishment.

"What are you talking about?" She said, angrily.

"You've been dying to hear me tell you that I had feelings for you. For years. If I had confessed my unconditional love for you, you'd have fallen into my arms in a second. But I didn't. And it pissed you off. You resent me for being so stubborn and stupid. And you're right. I should have told you a long time ago. I didn't and there's nothing I can do about it now. But you," he came closer and looked her right in the eyes with a provoking stare, "you can't shut me up when I'm telling you exactly what you want to hear and pretend you don't believe me, just because it's a question of timing!..."

She puffed and her eyes widened in shock at his sassiness.

"You, arrogant bastard!" she shouted, glaring at him, "How dare you come here and tell me what I want? I've done a lot of things for you in the past. I've made a lot of sacrifices but now I've moved on. I'm thinking about myself! And if it's ever been a question of timing then you're right, House: yours sucks, because it's over. It never started anyway. Just accept it."

"No." he contradicted her stubbornly, raising his voice too, "Not as long as you keep closing your eyes and refuse to see the facts."

"What facts?"

"You're not in love with Lucas. You're just with him because it's safe. Lucas is your perfect emotional refuge right now. The one you conveniently found when you needed a quiet place to hide after what I did to you."

"And then what? I need that my life. That's what I want. I have a daughter. I can't be..."

She stopped in the middle of her sentence and bit her lips, swiftly looking down to avoid his gaze on her.

"What?" he yelled at her, "You can't be what? You can't be with me? Is that what you were going to say?"

She raised her face up and planted her light-grey eyes in his, stubbornly, silently, with her lips set, she sustained his gaze indefinitely, refusing to confess, refusing to let go... He heaved a long, resigned sigh and then smiled sheepishly at her.

"I thought I had you." he suddenly told her with a much softer voice, "Yes. In my perfect world, I imagined you'd saved me and I thought you were mine. But when I realized it was not true, I went crazy." He leaned down towards her and peered more intensely into her eyes. "You drove me crazy."

She shivered and leaned back a little, but without letting go of his eyes.

"You were taking too much Vicodin and it affected your mental health," she corrected with a calmer voice too.

"But I know you," he added, "And I know you felt guilty. Because of me. Because you couldn't help me."

"I'm not responsible."

"I know. I'm not saying you are, I'm saying you think you are."

"No." She denied energetically, with as much conviction as she could muster. He sighed again, this time defeated.

His last chance. It was now and it was gone.

"Cuddy... I'm sorry," he said, giving up, and he took a step away from her. "I'm a son of a bitch and an arrogant selfish bastard, you're right... But what I feel for you is real. It's not just my delusion. I came here because I thought..." His voice choked and tears welled up in his eyes, but he managed to hold them back. "I'm sorry," he repeated, "You're right about my timing: it just sucks..."

She stood in front of him, dazed, and guilt overwhelmed her. She stared at him, with sorry eyes, but above all emotionally crushed, as if she was suddenly realizing that it hadn't been a game at all, not once, during all this time...

"I hope you and Lucas will be happy together," House simply told her, and then he turned around and left the room. He walked a few steps away and suddenly her trembling voice broke the silence and made him stop before he could reach the door.

"I have a daughter now," he heard her say, as if she was speaking to herself, almost mechanically, and it oddly puzzled him. He turned around and paced back to join her in the living room again. She had not moved a bit and she was staring blankly in front of her with great sadness in her eyes.

"What did you say?" He asked her gently, cautiously walking near her again. The sound of his voice jolted her awake and she tilted her head to the side to meet his eyes.

"I have a daughter now," she repeated, and she bit her lips. "I can't leave her alone... I have to take care of her... I can't leave her alone..."

House squinted at her and he took a sharp breath. Her gaze was lost and full of confusion and it frightened him. He slowly raised his hands up to her face and he stroked her cheek with his fingertips, lightly.

"Of course you can't," he said reassuringly, "No one said you had to."

"I know you hate her," she said with a neutral tone, somewhat giving in to the caress of his hand "You hate Rachel. And it's my fault..."

His eyes widened and he froze, stunned by what he thought she'd just implied.

"What? What do you mean it's your fault?"

"That night, you've insulted me and my child and I felt hurt. And... I left..."

"Yes, you left, because you had to. You did what was right. I'm not blaming you."

"But you hate Rachel," she repeated and she stared helplessly at him as if everything was said within those four words.

"I don't hate Rachel!" he exclaimed "I know I said horrible things about her, and I'm sorry, but I just wanted to get your attention... but God, Cuddy, I never hated your kid!..."

"I had to come home. My nanny was off the clock..."

"Are you saying... you think my feelings for Rachel is what made you leave that night and now you think I resent her even more because she's the reason why you didn't stay with me?"

"I couldn't stay to help you. Because you made me choose Rachel. But I had no other choices..."

House widened his eyes, baffled, fighting against the brimming flow of thoughts that kept coming to his mind. Cuddy looked away and her gaze suddenly emptied of all the fiery passion that was there a moment ago when she was arguing with him. She seemed so far away from where she was standing, emotionally detached, almost absent. House grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her determinedly.

"Hey Cuddy! Look at me! Is it why you don't want me now in your life? Because you think I would force you to choose between me and Rachel?"

"I'm a mother now. Rachel is part of my life."

"I know, dammit! I've accepted that!" He shouted, furious against her stubborn, irrational and stupid sense of guilt.

"Lucas takes care of her," she recited, expressionless.

"Forget about Lucas! This isn't about him!" His anger was pervading him like lava out of a volcano, "This is about you and what you want... Do you want him for you, or do you want him because he takes care of your kid?"

"I can't be with you, House," she suddenly said planting her sorry eyes into his fuming glare.

"Yes you can!" he strongly objected, "You deny yourself all possibility of having a relationship with me because you think I don't like your kid but you want me, don't you? ... Don't you?"

Her lips started to tremble and her gaze on him intensified, but she didn't answer.

"Cuddy, please, don't do that to yourself... you know that's not what you want... Say you want me in your life. Not him." He insisted adamantly.

She remained inert, standing in front of him, just gazing into his eyes, absolutely mute and beautifully desperate. He couldn't leave her there, locked in her obstinate silence any longer without doing something. He closed the distance between them and he slowly cradled her jaws inside the palms of his hands. At the contact of his skin on her skin, she jolted her head back and she closed her eyes, taking a long breath, like a drowned person who takes their first puff of air out of the water. He leaned down to her face and he grazed her soft skin with his stubble, carefully, and he brushed the silky pulp of her lips with his closed mouth.

"Tell me to get out, then," he whispered against her cheek.

She opened her mouth and she sighed loudly.

"I want you to get out," she said, and she stretched her neck to the side.

He languorously slid his nose along the warm line of her carotid and she almost lost her balance. She gripped his shoulders and he placed his hands flat on the small of her back, maintaining her close to him.

"Tell me to leave you alone," he blew in the hollow of her collarbone.

"Leave me alone," she repeated, with a hoarse voice and she slid her fingers in his neck.

But all of a sudden, he straightened up and he cupped her face, looking her compellingly in the eyes.

"This is not a game," he said with gravity, "And this is my last warning: if you don't want me, just say it! Tell me to go. Now."

As her unique answer, she seized his jaws and forcefully pulled him down to a kiss, raw, greedy and passionate. She bit his lips and forced the entry of his mouth and he surrendered the second he felt the wet sensation of her tongue on his lips. He let her taste him and he squeezed her against him, bringing her closer to his face, and almost taking her feet off the floor in the process. She moaned into his mouth and the sound of her lustful groans echoed against the cavity of his mouth, sending shivers into his palate. He released his grab on her a little and he felt her slowly slide along his body, until her feet landed on the ground and she promptly found her balance again. As soon as she was steady, she resolutely seized the hem of his shirt and yanked it off his pants. He broke away from their kiss, in a desperate need for air and she rubbed her face against his stubble, and her hands abandoned his shirt for a short instant, to climb up to his neck; uncontrollable outbursts commanding her every disorganized possessive movement and guiding her fingers into his hair, making her scrape his skull and then going down in his back, and down again to his belt, sliding under his shirt, and skirting his waist to come up on his abdomen, stroking his skin, while her avid mouth searched for his lips again.

His erection was aching inside his pants and he started to mentally recite the names of every drug he knew from the PDR in alphabetical order, praying to be able to control himself. But she felt the bulge against her hips and she skillfully rubbed herself against his groin, eliciting groans of pleasure from him. Her hands promptly slid from his abdomen to his waist and out of his shirt and she unequivocally placed her palm on the front of his jeans, massaging his manhood and conveying all her desire for him through this demanding, impatient gesture. She grabbed hold of his zipper, but before she got the chance to open it, he seized her by the wrists and pulled them out of his pants, crossing them in front of her chest and maintaining her immobile against him.

It took her a few seconds to come back to earth and realize he had stopped her and when she did, she stared at him, panting, completely panic-stricken, visibly horrified by what she thought it could mean. Her eyes were clearly begging him to say it was not a game and that he hadn't brought her that far just to dump her and have another good reason to mock her afterwards. Her distress touched him as much as it puzzled him and he sent her a soft smile.

"Relax," he said, reassuringly "I'm not driving you away... Believe me, I'm really dying to go there too. Actually, I don't even know where I found the strength to stop you. Maybe, this is the proof that I'm not completely sane after all." He smiled mischievously at her.

She instantly unwound in his arms, and he leaned down to kiss her languorously, breathing against her lips, while he still wisely held her wrists joined in front her chest.

"But the truth is... I don't care if we're not doing it, because, it's not about what I can get now," he added, still sensually kissing her softly on her cheeks and behind her ears, "It's about what I want. And I don't want you now. I mean I do... want you... but not like that, not if Lucas is still in the picture."

He straightened up and studied her reaction. She bit her lips and looked down with guilt in her eyes. He let go of her wrists and gently put his finger under her chin to bring her face up.

"No. Don't feel guilty. It's not your fault," he said, "It's me. I've been there before, doing it with unavailable women, and I know that it leads nowhere... But I don't want it to go nowhere with you. I know this is my last chance to make it work and I don't want to screw it up..."

She looked at him and nodded, but she remained silent, feeling that words would be useless between them now. She took his hand and slowly brought it up to her face and she lay her cheek inside it, her slender hand covering his, and guiding his caress.

"I think I should leave now," he told her cautiously, testing her reaction. She nodded again and he smiled. "I'll be at my place, waiting. I'm not pressuring you. Take your time if you feel you need to, because I don't want you to talk to Lucas if you're not absolutely sure... But when you are and you've talked to him, call me... and I'll be there. And I promise you, we'll finish what we've started..." he added and she smiled softly.

"Alright," she simply said.

He leaned down and put a tender kiss on her lips before straightening up. Her hands were gripping his shirt and she clang to him a little longer. He delicately seized them and put them back along her thighs. They stood face to face for another short moment and, without a word, he left her house. Outside, while he was limping down the few steps that led to the road, and towards his car, he unexpectedly bumped into Lucas, who was walking up the alley, whistling. He stopped as soon as he saw House and interrogated him with quizzical eyes.

"Hey House!" he said, and he gave a quick glance at his watch. "Damn! It's hard to work in a field when you don't count your hours, isn't it?" he added, with an undecipherable look on his face.

House put his coat's collar up and smiled.

"Yes," he answered, "But I guess that's just occupational hazards. We're not always where we would want to be, are we?"

"I guess we're not!" Lucas exclaimed, with a weird sudden enthusiasm, "Speaking of which... if you'll excuse me... I think someone is waiting for me..." and he pointed towards Cuddy's door triumphantly.

"Absolutely," House told him comprehensively, "You should go. I can understand why don't want to make her wait..."

Lucas squinted at him for a split second but he finally walked away without another comment. House watched him pace up to the front door and enter inside. He thought he caught a glimpse of Cuddy's silhouette in the hallway, but he couldn't tell for sure. Then the door closed and he realized he was standing alone in the middle of a cold dark night, so he swiftly crossed the road and got inside his car. He drove home, with the clear and awkward awareness of all the mingled feelings that were brewing inside him, going from excitement to fear and relief and joy. He drove, without being conscious of the distance, his mind cradled by the memory of her sweet surrender to him. He arrived at his place, or more precisely at Wilson's he thought with a smile, and he entered inside the apartment, cautious not to make any noise, in case his friend was already asleep. But as soon as he paced inside the living room, he saw the soft light and before he could spot him in the room, he heard the sound of Wilson's sneaky voice.

"So? How did it go?" the oncologist asked, wiggling impatiently in the couch, waiting to be filled with the juicy details.

Almost at the same time, House's cell phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and checked the caller ID. When he saw her name, he took a sharp breath and slid the receiver open. Wilson opened his mouth to ask who it was but House compellingly silenced him with his palm up pointed at him.

"Yes," House spoke into his phone, "I just got home... I didn't even take my coat off yet... So?... Yes... Absolutely sure? ... No. No problem... I'll be right there..." And he hung up.

Wilson looked at him baffled and widened his eyes, his curiosity visibly aroused.

"What's going on? Is it your Team? There's something wrong with your patient and you have to go, is that it?"

House threw his car keys high up in the air and skillfully caught them back on their way down. He smiled broadly at Wilson and started limping effortlessly to the door.

"Yep!" He said, walking away, "I have to go..."

~ THE END ~ :-)