Time seemed to slow down. It took her nearly three hours to get to Princeton, thanks to a nasty pile-up on the freeway. At first, she had gnashed her teeth, and growled curses at the frozen lanes of traffic, but finally she sighed her resignation at her fate, and she sat back in her well upholstered Prius, turning on her stereo. She kept hitting the seek button, trying to find something other than talk radio. Christian talk, Conservative talk, Liberal talk, Sports talk, Weather talk, Traffic talk – it all gave her one hell of a headache. "Doesn't anyone play music, anymore?" she said out loud to her empty car, rolling her eyes. Finally, she dug into the bag in the back seat, finding her iPod. The opening strums of Bruce Springsteen's Born to Run came over the speakers, allowing her to relax, waiting for traffic to move again.

She had never been happier to pull into her empty driveway. Her house looked empty and cold, after the warmth of the tropics, but it was her home, and it was familiar. With a smile, she put the car into park, and she shut off the ignition. She grabbed her purse, and she stepped outside the vehicle, taking in the familiar surroundings. She had twenty-nine missed calls on her phone in the past twenty-four hours, all from the same contact, the one she had labeled Jerk under the contact info. She didn't want to talk to him, and it wouldn't surprise her if he had her house staked out, especially when she had called the hospital yesterday that she was returning a week early. That information must have made the rounds on the hospital's well run and fed grapevine.

The FBI and CIA didn't have anything on the doctors and nurses at her hospital.

She smiled at the thought, and she hauled her large suitcase out of her car. She wondered what the rumor mill said about her, and why she had left. She hadn't taken a vacation, in god, how many years? A real vacation, not just a week off work because the Board had demanded it, not that she had gotten much rest, with everything that had happened, but she had gotten to spend sometime on a beach, soaking up some sun. Maybe next year, she'd take some time off and go to Europe; she hadn't been there since college.

She unlocked the door, and she found her house dark and quiet. The smell of cleaning supplies wafted in the air; her cleaning service must have been there earlier. She hauled her suitcase into her bedroom, and she contemplated unpacking it right away. She had another smaller suitcase in the trunk of her car, and she rubbed the back of her neck, thinking that she should just bring it in.

"You know, you really need to learn to relax."

She jumped at the familiar voice, her heart temporarily lodging itself in her throat, before it settled back down in her chest at the realization of who it was. "And change my locks on a regular basis, too, apparently," she turned and glared, seeing the familiar tall, lanky figure leaning in the doorway. "Get out of my home."

He stared at her. "No," he stepped into her dark bedroom, stopping a few feet away from her, before leaning his cane on her vanity. "Not until..."

"Not until what, House? I call the police and have them haul you out in handcuffs for trespassing and breaking and entering?" Her frustration burned through her eyes, causing them to almost glow in the dim light.

He stared at her for a few moments; his stare intense. He licked his lips, and she felt her nipples tighten and her womb clench. She cursed herself for letting him have that effect on her. She thought she had learned her lesson that fall, but it seemed like she was destined to make the same mistake again.

It was in that moment that she realized that he was going to kiss her, a split second before he moved.

She was paralyzed from stopping him, becoming overwhelmed by his presence looming over her. His lips met hers, and it was like a wildfire of fear and loss and lust and frustration took a hold of her, igniting like gasoline in her blood. Their kisses were wet, deep and hard; there was nothing soft and gentle about them, and their teeth nipped each others lips in their haste.

She tugged on his the hem of his t-shirt, the fire of emotions and desire burning hot in her veins, and his lips broke away from hers for a split second, allowing her to remove the offending material before renewing his assault. His fingers deftly unbuttoned her sweater, revealing the soft, cotton camisole underneath it. His fingers brushed her ribcage through the material, his thumbs brushing her pert nipples, sending electric shocks strait to her sex, causing the familiar liquid heat to build between her thighs.

He walked her to her bed, still locked in his embrace. His hands drifted around her back, cupping her shoulder blades to steer her. Her arms wrapped around his bare shoulders tightly, inhaling as much of him as possible. She tasted bourbon and french fries on his tongue as it deftly massaged her own, as well as the taste that was essentially him, and it stoked the fire between her legs. She could feel the rub of his cock against her belly, erect through the fly of his jeans. She wanted nothing more than to rid him of those so that he could-

She squealed as he lowered her to the bed, grunting with effort. Both breathing heavily, he tore his lips away from hers, his breath hot against her mouth. He lifted his head, and he gazed into her eyes, his eyes glowing with lust and desire. He studied her, his fingers tracing her jaw and neck, lowering them down to her collarbone, lightly touching the hollow of her throat before dipping down into the exposed beginning of the valley between her breasts. "I want you," he finally said, hoarsely. "I want you naked and sweaty, and screaming beneath me." Her womb tightened, and she squirmed underneath the warm, heavy weight of his body. He swallowed, and she could see his brain working, trying to find the words he wanted to speak, so she lay beneath him, lightly caressing the bare skin of his back. "I want you to carry my kid, and to raise it, and I want to be there to see it."

Her heart stopped beating for a moment at those words. She stared up at him, and it was only then that she realized that his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, and fresh, wet streaks marred his face. House, she tried to say, but no words came out from her dry, tight throat.

It was then that her world crashed down around her, and all the trauma and emotions that she had been feeling for the past six months hit her at once. The sobs that she didn't realize she had been keeping at bay escaped from her throat, raw and angry. She balled her hands into fists, and she began to pound his chest. "You asshole," she cried. "You asshole, she repeated, over and over again, striking his chest with her fists.

He wrapped his arms around her, and he rolled them both over, allowing her to continue to hit him and cry into his chest. He allowed the emotions to roll out of her, while holding her close to him. He stared at the ceiling, his blue eyes wide while her sobs subsided into hiccups, and he stroked her dark hair, feeling the silky texture of it through the callouses on his fingers . Finally, he felt her go limp, the emotional tempest finally ebbing into the rolling clouds that she usually cloaked her feelings in.

[H] [H] [H]

She hadn't realized she had fallen asleep, until she woke up, her face red and hot. Her throat was raw and dry, and she reluctantly lifted her head up from the soft pillow underneath her head, looking around. She was alone, but she was pretty sure she hadn't been alone earlier, if her memory was correct. She sat up, and she glanced around the bedroom, seeing no sign of him. She shook her head as she crawled out of bed, stretching a bit – maybe it had been a delusion thanks to her overstrung emotional state.

She went to the bathroom, and after using the facilities, she washed her face with cold water, the chill feeling good against her fever-hot cheeks. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her she hadn't eaten since leaving her mother's house – she checked the clock on the wall – nearly nine hours ago.

Six hours; she had slept for six hours. She pressed her hands to the small of her back, stretching a bit by bending backwards a little bit while yawning. She splashed a little more water on her face, rubbing at her eyes, tempted to just crawl back in bed, then the smell hit her. She sniffed, frowning, then followed the strong, spicy scent into her kitchen, where House was sitting. Styrofoam take-out boxes were stacked on the table. "Good morning, sunshine," he said with a grin. "Sleep well?"

She peered out the curtains of her kitchen, gazing at the dark, night sky. "Why are you still here?" she asked, slowly, not wanting to look at him, still wondering if she was dreaming.

He spooned out some rice from one of the containers, then adding a thick, brownish red stew-like mixture over it from another container. She sniffed, the spicy heat wafting through the air – curry. Her mouth began to water at the smell. He sat down at her table, opening a can of Coke. "I meant what I said," he said, quietly, poking at his food with a plastic fork. "I figured that meant not abandoning you while you slept." He gave her a grin. "So I had Wilson do some grocery shopping for you. Your fridge and pantry were disappointingly empty."

She turned to face him. "You..." she shook her head. "And this?" She waved a hand at the table.

"There's a great Indian place that delivers." He shrugged. "Sounded good," he took a bite, smiling at the taste. "It's good, and not drugged, I swear."

She huffed a little, then sat down, opening another container, revealing a potato and lentil curry. She grabbed a plate House had taken from her cabinet and placed on the table, and she began to spoon food from the containers on it, trying to ignore House for the time being. She ate in silence, trying to avoid House's stare from across the table. "Wilson went on a date with one of the orderlies in the ER," he commented, shoveling food into his mouth.

"Don't." She heaved a heavy sigh. "Don't do this."

"Do what?" he looked up at her, his eyebrows lifted in question, though his face was a mask of innocence.

"This." She waved her fork vaguely at him. "Small talk." She took a bite. "It doesn't become you."

He gave her a weak smile. "I just want to try," he sighed, pushing himself away from the table. "You're right. This was a mistake." He stood up, and he reached for his coat, hanging off the back of the chair.

"No!" She was shocked at the volume of her own voice. She stood up, too, and walked over to him. "I...it's been a long day, in a series of long days." She took a deep breath. "I want you to stay," she said, in a quiet voice. He took a step towards her, and she swallowed, a lump forming in her throat. "I want you..." she whispered, not daring to look up at him.

He gently touched her cheek, letting his fingers fall to her chin. He put light pressure there, turning her face up towards his. Their eyes met for a split second, then he lowered his mouth to hers, tentatively pressing his lips to hers with feather light pressure. She found herself kissing him back, her hands reaching up to frame his face, the stubble of his cheek tickling her palms. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close to her.

He broke off the kiss, their breathing heavy. He gave her a small grin. "Bedroom?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

She raised a brow, and gave him a seductive smile; it felt right. "Bedroom," she answered. He reached for her hand, and tugged, leading her down the hallway.

[H] [H] [H]

(six weeks later)

She sat on the closed toilet seat, her stomach in knots. Things had been going so well. House was of course, House, but he was trying, and so was she, and she was giving him the benefit of the doubt, and so far, he hadn't screwed it up, even though they both knew it was only a matter of time.

She just hoped that this wasn't it.

She'd been feeling flu-like symptoms for the past week, and she hadn't been able to shake it. A nagging little voice in the back of her mind told her she had felt like this before, and she had found a pregnancy test underneath her sink. Now, it was just waiting for it -.

A knock on the door startled her. "I've gotta take a leak," came House's bellow. Her heart had started beating faster; she had thought he had been asleep.

"Use the other bathroom," she called back, raking her fingers through her hair. The timer read thirty more seconds.

"But I wanna use this one!" came his petulant whine. She almost smiled how she knew he was pouting, in his child-like way. "Besides," he called through the locked door, "I wanna see if it's positive."

Her heart rose to her throat. She stood up, and she unlocked the door. "How'd you know?"

He rolled his eyes. "You've been morning sick the past week." He shrugged, "I was waiting for you to figure it out." He gave her a small grin. "Who do you think bought you the pregnancy test?"

She opened her mouth to give him a snarky retort, but the egg timer dinged, causing both of their heads to snap around to look at the small piece of narrow white plastic on the sink. Her heart started beating faster, and her palms began to feel sweaty. House licked his lips, then swallowed, nervously. She took a few steps closer to the sink, not wanting to look away. She stared at it for a few long moments, before he demanded, "dammit, Cuddy, what the hell does it say!"

She turned to him, trying to keep her face impassive, then her features broke out into a wide smile. "House," she said, beaming at him. "I love you."

[End]

So, this is the point where I thank everyone for reading, and tell you all I don't do sequels, right?

Well, thanks to all who read this. I really appreciate it, and I hope everyone who's been following it has enjoyed it. Thank you so much for taking time out of your day to read it. I can only hope that you've all enjoyed it, and that it brought a bit of entertainment to your busy lives :-D

Now, about that sequel...Everyone Lies, you know ;-)...

so you might want to stay tuned...