This was another AU prompt I took back.

"What if Cuddy had been the one to amputate Hannah's leg?"

No one likes to mess with Help Me, but it could be fun, right? Well, maybe not fun, but interesting, and challenging, and … I hope you like it. I did use some of the dialogue from the episode to pick the story up. I credit the writers for that, but can't credit them for anything more.

This will be a two-shot. Chapter two will be published tomorrow.

Disclaimer: I don't own House.

From the Ashes

"That's great," House spit out defiantly. "A life lesson from a middle-age single mom who's dating a man-child."

"Screw you," Cuddy said. "I'm sick of making excuses for you. I'm sick of other people having to tiptoe around you and make their own lives worse while they try to keep you from collapsing. I'm done."

She turned to walk away from him. There was too much to deal with at the crane collapse site to put up with him right now.

"Fantastic," he called after her. "Just stay away from my patient."

Cuddy swung back around and faced him head on. "What are you clinging to, House? You're gonna risk her life just to save her leg? Really worked out well for you, didn't it? What do you have in your life, honestly? Tell me. I'm moving on. Wilson is moving on. And you... You've got nothing, House, nothing. I'm going down there, and I'm gonna convince her to let me cut her leg off. If you have any decency left, you'll stay out of it."

House was hurt and angry, he was tired and furious, he was…he didn't know what he was feeling.

If you have any decency left, you'll stay out of it.

What had decency gotten him? What had anything he'd been doing gotten him? The little hope for a better future he'd managed to build over the last few months was crumbling around him, while his patient was in that tunnel facing a crisis he understood better than anyone. He knew the choices. He knew the pain and fear; he knew the panic. He also knew the life she was facing.

House looked up and saw Cuddy speaking with Captain McCreaney. Maybe she was right. Maybe he was clinging to a past that was dooming his future. Maybe he was dooming Hannah to a life of misery too. As much as he hated to admit it, they needed to amputate her leg. He wasn't doing her any favors by waiting any longer.

Seeing Cuddy crawling back into the debris, House headed up the small mound to follow her. He needed to stop her. This was his responsibility. His mess. At least this one he could clean up. He could make it right. He should be the one to amputate her leg, not Cuddy.

"Sorry, Dr. House," Captain McCreaney stopped him. "Dr. Cuddy gave clear instructions; you are no longer permitted down there."

"What?" House turned to look at him, stunned as two police officers came to stand beside him. "My patient is down there."

"She's no longer your patient."

"She asked for me," he argued. "I'm her doctor and you have no authority to override that."

"No," he agreed. "But Dr. Cuddy does. Please don't make us restrain you. There's enough going on at this site without pulling any more resources to deal with you."

"But Cuddy shouldn't be doing that alone," he said, a wave of anxiety washing through him. "She needs help."

"And she'll get it," the captain said. "We'll give her what she needs."

"She needs me!"

"She doesn't seem to feel that way," he said. "There are plenty of other areas where you could be of use. Dr. Cuddy doesn't want you here."

#####

House watched as Hanna was pulled from the tunnel and loaded onto the stretcher. Cuddy was still down there. And he was worried.

He'd like to say it was just the obvious physical dangers lurking beneath the surface that had him so worked up, but it was so much more than that. He'd heard the screams of excruciating pain. He knew the procedure. He knew Cuddy.

Cuddy.

He was losing her. Not that he ever had her. It was all so screwed up.

He saw her crawling out of the nightmare, strong and focused. Answering questions and issuing instructions with no concern for herself. She was such a warrior.

One of the rescue workers helped her over a rocky place in the rubble, while another took her medical sack. She looked exhausted, emotionally drained, and as she looked up at the helicopter overhead spotlighting the scene, he thought she looked…defeated.

"Hannah," Cuddy heard a man call as he rushed toward the gurney.

That must be Charlie, she thought. Her husband. The reason she was willing to give up her leg to ensure a life unencumbered by pain and bitterness.

"Baby, I'm so sorry," Hannah gave him a weak smile.

"Shut up," he said.

"You always loved my legs."

"I don't care about your legs," he assured her. "Baby, I love you. I love you."

When he leaned down to kiss Hannah, Cuddy caught sight of House standing behind him.

"I love you," Hannah said.

I don't love you. So just... accept it and move on with your life instead of making everyone miserable.

She flinched as she remembered the things she'd said to him just a few hours ago. As he watched Hannah and her husband, she could sense he was remembering too.

House looked at Cuddy, his sad eyes reflecting greater regret and desolation than she'd ever seen in him. She wanted to hold him, to tell him what had happened in that tunnel, tell him she was wrong and that everything had changed. But now wasn't the time. A part of her was afraid she was about to run out of time.

As she climbed into the ambulance and reached for the doors, she locked eyes with him. They'd always had a private language between them, a curious way of reading the unspoken thoughts through a stare. She hoped the walls she'd put between them these past months and the pain of the moment hadn't diminished that ability. She needed him to understand. She needed him to hold on.

He blinked and turned away. As she closed the doors and looked out the back window, she watched him turn away, his shoulders slumped, his hand gripping his leg as he limped away.

#####

"Where's Cuddy?"

It had taken some time to get to the hospital. The traffic around the disaster site was terrible, and he'd wasted valuable time before even getting on the road debating if he should even return to PPTH. After all that had happened, he was certain Cuddy didn't want him around. And yet he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to be there. Now he knew he'd made the right decision.

Hannah had died in transport: a fat embolism from the amputation.

"I don't know," Foreman answered. "She didn't look so good when she got out of the ambulance. I think she was heading toward her office.

House rushed to find her.

She wasn't in her office, or the clinic, or the lounge. Her cell phone went straight to voice mail, so he had one of the nurses call her home - he suspected Lucas wouldn't provide any information if he called - but she wasn't there either. He tried not to worry, deciding he needed to take a few minutes and think. Somewhere in the database of his mind that was dedicated to Cuddy was a clue to where she would be. He could solve this puzzle. He had to.

He paced the empty hall outside her office for ten minutes before he figured it out and rushed through the halls of the hospital, a man on a mission.

#####

Cuddy heard the sound of his motorcycle, but it was like distant thunder, peripheral noise that couldn't pull her from her thoughts. The memories that were repeating in her mind over and over, haunting her, trapping her.

"Dr. House promised," Hannah insisted.

"If there was any other way," she tried to explain.

Hannah didn't want to hear it. "It doesn't hurt right now. I can wait."

"You can't wait," Cuddy said gently. "We've waited as long as we can. The time has run out. We have no choice now. We have to amputate your leg."

"Where's Dr. House? I need to talk to him. I need him to help me."

"He can't crawl back down here, Hannah," Cuddy bent the truth, implying it was a physical restraint and not that she was preventing him from coming back down.

"His leg?" Hannah looked at Cuddy, her eyes wide with concern. The girl was amazing, worried about House when she was pinned under the building and facing an amputation. Maybe there was more to his behavior than his typical selfish obsessions. Maybe House had seen something more in this girl, something that made him want to advocate so passionately for her.

"He's in a lot of pain."

"Yes," Cuddy agreed. "He lives with pain every day." That wasn't a new revelation, so why did it feel like the beginning of a breakthrough? As if something deep in her subconscious was nudging her, something long buried and denied?

"Because he wouldn't let them amputate?"

It was clear House had talked with Hannah about his past, and Cuddy knew she needed to connect with Hannah, to build trust and help her understand the decision that needed to be made. Perhaps she could build on the parallels in their situation.

"Yes," she said. "He wanted to wait it out too. It's completely normal to want to save your leg."

"And he did save his," she pointed out. "That operation helped him keep his leg."

"That's true," Cuddy said. "But I think he sometimes wishes he hadn't."

They'd removed the dead muscle and saved his leg, but they'd left him with an ugly scar and a handicap far greater than if he'd lost the limb.

House drove his motorcycle onto the grass and parked it next to the picnic table where she was sitting. She was staring into the distant, lost in the darkness of the night, the darkness of her thoughts. The only indication that she even noticed him was the ways she seemed to lean slightly toward him and into his space.

"He's always in pain," she explained to Hannah. "And it's hard to live with that kind of chronic pain. It becomes the only thing you can think about, your entire focus. It becomes hard to think, to function in your job, to have relationships…"

Cuddy felt the tears well up in her eyes. Sometimes she forgot House lived in pain. Most everyone in his life forgot it. He seemed so invincible: the brilliant doctor saving lives and cheating death at every turn. It was easier to see the obnoxious, misanthropic drug addict than the vulnerable man that remained so well hidden. And yet he'd been clean for months now, depending solely on ibuprofen and physical therapy for pain relief. He probably thought she'd disregarded his efforts as a necessity to save his mind. She knew better. He'd made a lot of changes and she hadn't even acknowledged how heroic his efforts had been. His determination to overcome his addiction was beyond remarkable; his ability to endure the pain as he tried to adapt and make changes in his life left her spellbound most days, as much as she fought to hide it. And she had been hiding it, fighting her feelings for him, running from them like a coward. He'd been so brave.

"And he's alone," Hannah said, interrupting the flood of thoughts washing over her. She felt the moisture on her cheeks from the tears breaking free from the wells in her eyes.

"What?"

"He's alone," Hannah said. "He said he doesn't have anyone."

He's not alone! She wanted the scream it. He's got me; he's got Wilson. Except he doesn't know that; he can't trust that anymore. I told him he didn't have anyone. I told him…

Cuddy bowed her head as she realized she had become as hardened over time and pain as he had.

"You've got a husband who loves you," Cuddy said, forcing herself to concentrate on Hannah, on the situation at hand. "You've got friends and family. You can still have a life full of love and laughter, that's not all about pain, that's not about loss. You can have a very productive life with a fully functional prosthesis."

House had noticed she was shivering and removed his jacket to drape it around her. It wasn't that cold out, so he knew she was experiencing a bit of shock from the aftermath of what had happened. And this was Cuddy. She had a double portion of the care gene that made it difficult for her to compartmentalize her emotions in these types of situations.

"She's dead," she said, coming out of her reverie to burrow into his jacket.

"I know."

She looked over her shoulder at him. "That's it?" she said. "No gloating? No 'I told you so'?"

"Nope." He stared out into the darkness just as she'd been doing.

The silence swelled around them, a pregnant pause, full and pressing.

"You did the right thing," House finally said.

She released a breathy, bitter laugh. "And yet she's dead."

"Patients die, Cuddy. You know that," he said. "In the best situations, patients die. In a disaster zone, it's even more likely."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"No," he said. "It should make you feel like shit. You can do everything right and everything still go wrong."

Cuddy watched as he began to rub his thigh.

He'd been doing everything right for months now.

"It's not fair," he said simply. "But it's life."

"Life sucks," she muttered.

"Yep," he agreed with a shrug, as if there was nothing more to say after stating the obvious.

She wrapped his jacket closer around her, relishing its warmth.

"You shouldn't be here," he said. "You should go home, get something to eat…"

"I'm not going home."

"You've been through a lot."

"I'm not going home," she said more firmly.

House sighed. "Fine."

She watched as he stood and moved to his motorcycle. Was he leaving?

"Here," he gruffly said, handing her a helmet.

"I'm serious, House," she snapped. "I'm not going home."

"I don't care where you go, but you're not going to sit out here like bait for every pervert that comes by."

"You're the only person who's been here in hours," she pointed out.

"I rest my case," he said, and waggled his brows.

In spite of herself, Cuddy chuckled. He may be the most frustrating and infuriating man she knew, but he could always make her laugh.

He straddled his bike and looked at her.

"Get on," he instructed, and started the engine.

She didn't move.

"Dammit, Cuddy," he snapped. "I'm tired and my leg hurts and I could really use a drink about now. So how about you stop being a pain in the ass and get on the bike?"

She glared at him. She didn't want to go home, but she didn't want to be alone either. To be honest, what she really wanted was to be with him.

Cuddy climbed on the back of the bike and wrapped her arms around his waist. When she felt his hand cup hers and squeeze gently, she couldn't resist holding him tighter.

Yes. This was where she wanted to be.

#####

She was sitting on the couch in his apartment staring at the empty glass in her hands.

As soon as they'd arrived, the taken her to the bathroom and told her to take a hot shower. She'd been surprised – and a little disappointed – when he didn't offer one of his trademark inappropriate comments about lathering her up. Instead, he'd handed her towels, explained the hot water nozzle was tricky and told her where to find a robe. He'd also offered her a t-shirt and pajama bottoms if she preferred. She'd been about to ask what had happened to the "real" House.

"I suggest the pajamas," he said with a grin. "They're sure to fall off."

She had shoved him out the door, but couldn't stop the smile. That smile turned to tears as she stood beneath the warm spray of the shower. There in his bathroom, it had all come to a head: Hannah, the past, House, Lucas. The dam had finally burst.

House must have heard her; he had known. Yet, when she finally joined him in the living room, he didn't say a word. He handed her a glass of bourbon and a box of tissue then left her alone while he puttered away in the kitchen.

"You want another," he asked from the doorway, gesturing at the empty glass.

The last thing she needed was another glass of bourbon, but she nodded yes anyway.

After he filled her glass, he walked over to the piano and poured himself another shot.

"I've got some soup on," he said. "I figure we need to eat."

"Thank you."

She watched as he nervously paced over to the fireplace and then back.

Please don't make me talk, she thought. It was all too raw, too new. She still needed to process.

"I'm sorry, Cuddy," he said.

"It's not your fault," she answered immediately. "If things had gone right at the crash site, waiting could have worked."

"I'm not talking about tonight."

Something in the raspy quality of his voice caught her attention.

"I'm sorry I screwed it up for us," he said. "Again."

Cuddy felt something lodge in her throat.

"I didn't mean to jerk you around," he continued with a shrug. "Well, maybe I did."

He looked over at her then. "I'm never at my best when I'm afraid."

Cuddy felt her stomach drop. The way he looked at her, that shy, nervous look, those clear blue eyes…this night could very well be her undoing.

He chugged down the bourbon and placed the empty glass on the mantle.

"I want you to be happy," he said so softly she questioned if she'd heard it. "I know you don't believe that, but…I…you were right to move on. You shouldn't get sucked into my misery."

When she didn't respond, he came to sit beside her on the sofa, slumping back into the cushion. "You deserve to be happy," he mumbled.

He's letting go, she thought as she stared at him.

'Friends' is the last thing I want to be.

He'd played his card that day. She hadn't seen it. Or wanted to see it. Then the book he'd given her, her grandfather's book, a gift to her and Lucas. Now this…

"I'm not happy," she admitted, suddenly desperate to let it out. "I'm supposed to be. I should be…"

She placed her glass on the coffee table and turned to face him, shifting her body so she could prop her arm on the back of the couch.

"Do you know why I didn't want to go home tonight?" she asked.

The lines in his brow creased as he turned to face her, mirroring her position.

"I have to explain everything," she said. "Every little thing that happens at the hospital, I have to explain what it means, the impact, and how I feel about it. Then I have to explain what I want him to do and how to be, only for him to do something completely opposite and piss me off."

She rolled her eyes as she thought about it. "He's great with Rachel. He's faithful and steady. But sometimes it's just so draining," she said. "If I went home tonight, I'd have to go through every detail of what happened. Then he'd hug me and say 'aw baby' and it wouldn't matter that I tell him I just want to be quiet and be left alone, he'd say he could make me feel better and then I'd feel pressure to have sex, knowing full well he'd probably get off before me and I'd be even more miserable. I just couldn't… I can't…"

House was fighting a grin. He should feel bad for her. He knew he should.

"Go ahead," she sighed. "Start the mocking."

House bit back the words he really wanted to say. "You can't blame the guy," he said instead. "Any man straight and alive will get a hard-on around you. And men can't think with an erection much less know how to comfort you."

"And yet here you are," she said dryly

"My point exactly," he said. "No pun intended.

Cuddy released a breathy laugh and shook her head. She reached out and rested her hand on his. "I've missed you."

House swallowed hard and his eyes widened in surprise.

Cuddy bowed her head, feeling a pang of guilt at his expression. He'd been so different when he'd returned from Mayfield. She still remembered how pleased she'd been when she'd come to see him at Wilson's and he hadn't deflected. He'd admitted he'd hallucinated sex with her and yelled it from a balcony, then told her she was far from narcissistic. She'd been so surprised. But then she'd been afraid. He'd been so cautious and uncertain with his job, and with himself. She hadn't known how to help him. And she'd felt responsible. She should have seen what was going on. She should have stopped it long before the break down.

Then there was the conference. He'd been so open and honest, and she…she was already running.

"I run from what I want," she said, her eyes returning to his. "Remember when you told me that?"

He frowned.

"You were right." She moved her hand into his so their fingers would be entwined. "I run from what I want and have no idea what I need."

"You know what you need," he said. "You just don't trust it's what you SHOULD need. You worry too much about doing what other people think is right and miss asking yourself if it's actually right for you."

She gave him an exaggerated glare. "Sometimes speaking the truth just makes you an ass."

"With a hard-on," he added with a grin.

Cuddy snorted as her laugh broke through.

They stared at each other in the comfortable silence that followed. He could have pushed her to talk about Hannah, about her feelings. He could have dug around for more damaging information about her relationship with Lucas. He could have pushed her on any number of things, but he didn't. He just sat with her, watching her, his expression soft, his gaze almost worshipful.

Oh, hell.

Cuddy moved toward him, swinging her leg over to straddle him.

His eyes widened, as he searched her face. He didn't move. He didn't even seem to be breathing.

She smiled and placed her hands on either side of him against the back of the couch, leaning forward to brush a kiss against his slightly opened lips. His lashes fluttered as he gazed at her. How could she resist him when he looked at her with such reverence? How could she keep pretending?

She brushed tiny kisses along his jaw, over his brow and down his nose until she hovered at his mouth for seconds before moving to his neck. Her hands moved along his shoulder and she wrapped her arms around his neck to hold him close.

House inhaled deeply, breathing her in as oxygen. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He could hardly think. He was afraid he was dreaming, or worse, hallucinating.

"I thought I needed to find someone I could count on, someone who would always be there for me," she said, her voice slightly muffled as she snuggled into him.

His hands slid around her, slowly moving along her spine. She felt so good against him.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be that guy," he whispered into her hair. When she didn't respond he added, "I wanted to be."

It took a moment before he realized Cuddy couldn't hear him. She'd fallen asleep.

#####

She woke up surrounded by him. He was everywhere. His arms wrapped around her, his legs tangled with hers, his chin buried in the curve of her neck as he spooned her from behind. She could barely move in the small space on the sofa. It was constricting and suffocating. It was wonderful.

Cuddy smiled and pulled his arm tighter around her, entwining their fingers as she pulled his hand against her chest and burrowed her hips against him.

"Careful," he muttered into her skin. The robe had shifted as she slept, baring a part of her shoulder and the swell of a breasts, apparently. She could feel their fingers in her cleavage.

She shifted against him, turning to ask him what he was talking about when she felt it.

"Morning wood," he said, his voice husky from sleep. "Sue me."

That throaty laugh of hers didn't help his condition. Neither did that robe. He peeked over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of the top of her breast and the edge of her areola.

His erection jumped to full alert, which she shamelessly noted with a sexy chuckle and grin. Man, she was beautiful in the morning.

"You're evil," he growled.

Cuddy carefully turned to face him on the couch. He kept his arms around her so she wouldn't fall off the edge of the couch…and because he didn't want to let go.

"You're complaining?"

Her grey eyes smiled at him, clear and open. They held none of the suspicion or caution of the past, none of the frustration and sadness from the night before.

"Not at all," he said.

He breathlessly watched her as she caressed his jaw, her fingers lightly tracing the line of his beard.

"Thank you," she whispered. She was staring at his mouth as her thumb ran along the pulp of his lower lip. "For last night. For being there."

He's always there.

House kissed the tip of her thumb.

"You're welcome."

No matter how much he screws up, or how much I screw up, he's always there.

His hand moved slowly from her back and slid lightly along the line of her hip.

He's always there to catch me, to protect me. I haven't always seen it.

House closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wanted to savor the feel of her in his arms, to remember this one perfect moment when the walls were down between them, when they were finally in sync. He knew it would last. It wasn't even real. It was a fragile gift of time and space that he knew would shatter at any second. But right now, in this moment…

"I love you."

His eyes open and he stared at her in shocked surprise.

"What?"

She smiled and rolled toward him, bracing her hands on his shoulders as she came to rest on top of him.

"I love you," she repeated, this time with a little more confidence than wonder.

She couldn't hide it anymore. She was tired of running, tired of pretending the traditional idea of a relationship was for her. She was tired of trying to be someone she could never successfully be.

The feelings and emotions he stirred in her were impossible to contain. They were both screwed up and damaged, with a capacity to hurt as great as their capacity to love. Being with him was like being trapped on a runaway train, frightening and thrilling, an adventure that could end tragic or with beautiful heroics that would forever unite them. She wanted that ride. She wanted that passion. She wanted that trust and fear, that comfort and uncertainty. She wanted him.

Cuddy bent her legs and squeezed them tight at his hip. She could feel the length of him between her legs, could feel his heat and pulse matching her own. She pulled the belt at her waist and parted the lush fabric of the robe she wore.

House watched as very slowly – too slowly - the bare skin of her breasts was exposed. He swallowed hard. She was so damn beautiful.

Cuddy froze at the look of adoration that appeared on his face. It wasn't even the way his eyes roved over her body as if he were seeing breasts for the first time, or the puff of air that escaped his lips when he caught site of the line of hair at the top of her mound. It was the way his eyes returned to hers with hope and awe, the way his hands brushed her hair off her shoulder and cupped her chin. He took her breath away.

House pulled her down to him, his lips lightly teasing her as he tilted his head to the left then right, seeking just the right angle to taste her. She couldn't take it anymore. Her tongue darted into his mouth, but it was his that vied for the position of power. He took possession quickly, and yet it wasn't heated and demanding, it was slow and sensual, a kiss that sent fire through her veins to ignite her center. It was a kiss that spoke of unspoken desires and unrequited love.

Cuddy pulled up and away from him, gasping for air as she'd lost the natural ability to breathe with ease. He followed her, his mouth trailing down her neck and across her clavicle. The texture of his beard was rough on her skin, the softness of his lips soothing, the moist heat of his tongue erotic. He palmed her breast and she released a sigh. She couldn't remember the last time her skin had felt so sensitive, so electrified. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so alive.

Then his mouth was on her nipple, his tongue circling the tip as he sucked and licked. She moaned his name and laced her fingers through his hair. His arms wrapped around her and his hands cupped her rear as he moved to turn her.

"Oh," she exclaimed, as he gripped her hard, preventing them from falling off the side of the couch.

"Bedroom," he said.

And he was kissing her again. Even as they fumbled to stand, and tripped on the furniture, he kissed her. Her hands were all over him, pulling at his shirt and tearing at his pants. By the time they reached the bedroom, there was a trail of clothes down from the living room and down the hall. She laughed as he tripped again removing the socks he wore. He stood beautifully naked before her and she froze.

This was it. This was the point of no return. This would be the start of their relationship, for better or worse.

House saw the veil of concern drop over her before she even spoke. He dropped his head, knowing what was about to come.

"We can't do this," she whispered.

And his world shattered into pieces.