Final chapter as this was always planned to be only a short story. Thank you, all of you, who have followed along and especially those of you who shared your kind words in your positive reviews.

If you liked this story at all, may I humbly suggest you read my other baby, "Parallel Lines" my very first fanfic ever? And remember, positive reviews truly are warming coals to the winter of the creative soul. I just made that up. Cool huh?

A special thank you to ParadoxHugh who allowed me to create this story to satisfy the cravings of her tender Huddy heart. I just wanted to write something to help you pass the time and, in some small way, make you feel better my friend. Thanks for putting up with my cynicism and my very Housian ways. You are one of the few who realize that it is only a thin veneer hiding my romantic soul. My thoughts are with you and for your speedy recovery. Cheers.

Cuddy knelt at House's side. Was this why they had remained in each other's orbits for so many years? Their energies collided, then repelled each other like two highly charged atoms in a particle accelerator. And like the atoms, their volatility charted and defined their responses to one another.

Yet Cuddy always assumed that it was House's mercurial nature that made him change his mind about having a relationship with her. Or perhaps, his need to protect himself and his heart was the impetus for avoiding any true exchange between them.

But not this, she had never expected this. Cuddy had naturally taken House at his word whenever he stated that self-sacrifice was not part of his character. But like a broken record, House's own voice whispered through her mind, raking her heart as his words echoed through her soul. "Everybody lies."

For here he was before her now, willing to banish himself back to his life of misery and loneliness, all in a misguided attempt to protect her, to protect Rachel. So she had to see, had to know, to prove it to herself if this was his reason, if it could be true.

She inched forward on her knees, stretching out her hand to touch his shoulder. He flinched at the initial contact yet she did not take her hand away. Instead, she began to stroke his neck, raising her fingers to finally, gently brush his face.

He moaned and tried to turn his head away but Cuddy followed his movement with her hand, refusing to break their connection.

Finally she spoke quietly to him. "All right House, all right." Her voice broke again but she fought to keep control. "If this is what you want . . ." His head jerked as she continued, "But you need to tell me that you don't . . . you have to say it to me. Just tell me that you don't . . . love me."

House was looking at the floor. As his lips parted, Cuddy spoke again, "Look at me House. Look me in the eye and tell me, tell me . . ."

Her fingers flew to her mouth to stifle her uncontrolled sob. She closed her eyes for a moment, only a moment and opened them again to see House looking at her quite steadily.

"I don't . . .," he began.

Cuddy stopped breathing. Her mind grew suddenly blank as she closed her eyes once more, focusing on her own heartbeat. It pounded in her ears like a powerful bass drum enveloped by a thick wool blanket.

If he was going to do this, break it off before they'd even started, if he was really going to do this, she had to see his eyes. She intuitively knew that everything he felt, everything he said and everything he meant to say would be reflected there.

She slowly opened her blue-grey eyes to see that House's sapphire gaze had never faltered.

"I don't want you or Rachel to get hurt," he said.

She let out a breath that she hadn't been aware of holding. "The only way you can hurt us right now is to give up on us before you've even given us a chance. Won't you please, just give us a chance? All of us. I'm not just talking for me or for Rachel," Cuddy said quietly as she began tracing the lines in the beloved, stubbled cheek. "Give yourself a chance, just one chance . . . to finally be happy."

She saw the doubt and fear in House's eyes, the pain and anguish clearly revealing his sense of unworthiness stemming from what horrors in his past, she knew not what. But gradually, as she continued caressing his face, the overwhelming love that he could no longer hide nor deny shone out more strongly than any other emotion in his restless soul.

"Okay," he said simply.

With that nominal, one-word answer House communicated so much. He was, in fact, daring to hope that he, the ultimate cynic, could indeed be happy. That he could make someone else, actually two someones happy, or that at least, he was willing to try.

"Now was that so hard?' Cuddy asked smiling.

"You've no idea."

Her hand stopped its movements to grasp his face bringing it close to her own. She took the initiative again, moving her mouth to his, kissing him softly and then more deeply.

Cuddy may have thought she was leading this portion of their dance but House was only a step behind. And with an impressive flourish, he quickly turned the tables to take the lead himself.

Their lips never parted as he haltingly slid up onto the bed, bracing himself against the mattress in order to gain the necessary leverage to pull Cuddy up with him.

He was drowning again, but this time, not in pain and despair but in love and desire. House sought to blanket himself in the scent of her hair and skin, swathe himself in the warmth of her body and the way her flesh rippled with pleasure as he heard her sweet voice grow louder with her increasing need for him.

Cuddy allowed herself to be pulled up and onto House's reclining form. She felt the muscles in his chest and arms guide her onto his lap where the heat of his desire and the rigidity of his erection made her moan in anticipation.

She couldn't wait to experience him again, feel him filling her so completely as they moved in tandem once more.

Her robe was easily shed revealing the soft, alabaster flesh. Cuddy's hands grappled with House's t-shirt and pajamas in her rush to expose his sensuous lean body to her senses as they tumbled together, legs, arms and torsos all tangling collectively in their haste to become one.

And then she heard it. Over her own heavy breathing and excited whimpers, a strange sound. Though strange, there was music in it. Though unfamiliar, it was comforting. The sound seemed to travel through her. Like fine wine, it flowed through her very veins, warming her from her face to her fingertips to her feet, intoxicating her senses as it also heated them.

As she felt the flush of blood to her cheeks, she raised her head. House was laughing softly. His body gently vibrated with every exhalation.

"In a hurry, aren't we?" he said still chuckling.

"Aren't you?"

"No," he said turning suddenly serious. He reached up to cup her face in his hands as he solemnly looked at her. "I want this moment to go on forever. I wish it would never end."

And then he kissed her.

His kiss was light yet deep, earthy yet sacrosanct and Cuddy realized that this was the dichotomy that was House, this man she had fallen so hopelessly in love with.

He was, and always would be both dark and light, mysterious yet open, egotistical yet self-effacing, miserable yet euphoric, all sharing space equally with his brilliant mind, beautiful eyes, loving, fragile heart.

And it was then that she realized that with all the power in the world at her command, even if she could change him, she would not.

She took hold of him, guiding him inside her already wet entrance in a smooth, deliberate push as she lowered her body onto his. They both held their breath for a moment. And they both released their breaths at the same time in a long, conjoined sigh. This was how it was and how it should be, for in their mutual vulnerability and connection they knew that neither would ever again be complete without the other.

Cuddy rode him slowly, drawing out each stroke languorously with the rhythm of her hips. She inclined her head back as her breathing became labored. She closed her eyes, drinking in the sensations of his lovemaking as the familiar tingling pooled deep in her womb and began to course through her legs and arms.

House had been saying her name and moaning softly, driving her on with his voice and the rhythm of his grinding hips. She was making every nerve in his body vibrate like piano wire as his melodious chords sought instinctively for her harmony to join him.

The sudden cessation of sound, however, made Cuddy stop to tilt her head forward, opening her eyes to look at him. He lay beneath her, a look of deep yearning overlaying the handsome features of his face. But his eyes, his beautiful eyes were once again totally focused on her.

"Say it again," he said almost breathlessly while still boring his eyes through her. "I need you to say it again."

There was no need for explanation. They were connected in every way possible, physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. She knew what he meant, what he needed, what he wanted to hear. So she said it, the satisfaction of giving him everything he wanted making her smile seductively.

"I love you. I love you Gregory House."

They came together in a roiling, heat intensive, timeless moment of ecstasy that, though timeless, changed them for all time.

Cuddy collapsed onto his chest as they both allowed their bodies and their breathing to slow and normalize.

House found her white shell of an ear pressing near to his lips. With his voice still husky from vocalizing his throes of passion, he whispered into it, "I love you too. I always have. I always will."

She turned her face to kiss him, her tears wetting her cheeks, as House realized that he had somehow allowed faith to pierce the darkness of his soul and touch his heart. Perhaps there was a chance for him, for them to be happy. And perhaps in some way, he even deserved that chance.

All House knew was that to love and be loved seemed to him like rain in the desert; that even though it was highly improbable, it was now, with Lisa Cuddy and Rachel at his side, no longer completely impossible.