Chapter 30: Felicidade

Ladies… Careful… There's plenty of Greg to go arou… Hey what are you…

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"Morning sleeping beauty. Or afternoon rather, but who's counting." A familiar female voice teases you as you wake.

The bedroom slowly comes into focus as you open your eyes. There's an odd sensation in your arm and your dick. Holding your right arm up so you can see it, reveals an IV and you are fairly certain the odd feeling in your penis is the tube of a catheter. You also find that you are naked under the thin sheet that covers you.

"What are you doing here and how'd I end up in bed, naked, with an IV and cath? Where is Allison?"

Rebbeca, gets up from the beside chair and sits by you on the bed, checking you over as she talks, still clad in her work scrubs. "I slipped her a sedative and put her to bed on the couch because she refused to sleep on her own. You were stable, and weren't going anywhere, but she didn't want to listen to reason."

Once satisfied you are fine, she looks you in the eye and continues. "Allison called me sometime after three A.M., told me you damn near O.D.'d. I grabbed the equipment, drove over, helped her strip you, wash you, get you into bed, got you on an IV and figured you'd maintain your sexy image better if you didn't piss the bed."

"You just wanted to see if Allison was exaggerating about Little Greg." You joke. Glad she thought of everything, by rights you should be lying in a pool of piss and vomit this morning wishing you had just finally gone past the edge. As it is, you kind of feel okay; still sort of numb, but you'll take it to the overwhelming onslaught of emotion you had to deal with yesterday.

"Yeah. I am always telling my girlfriends to bring their men over for a catheter so I can ram things up their packages. It's kinky, but ya know, we all have our fetishes." She winks and continues to fill in the blanks from the part of the night you can't remember.

"So after I slipped her a mickey and tucked her in, I re-stitched your cut, because it looked like shit, yeah yeah, don't tell me nurses aren't supposed to do that part, you can sue me later, and I dozed off in the floor for a few hours. Then I woke up about two hours ago, fixed some coffee, and then sat around in here waiting for one of you to wake up. And I can take that cath out now, by the way. You look like you are in shape to take a piss on your own now."

"Just can't get enough, can ya?"

"You know it. I'm getting wet just thinking about it."

"Actually, I can manage on my own. No need for you and Allison to get into a cat fight. Despite the rumors, Little Greg doesn't like the ladies fighting over him."

"Well, then, I'll leave it to you. Before you get up though, you need to take these and I'll remove the IV."

She hands you a couple of ibuprofen, a tylenol and your depression medication in a small glass. Then hands you an orange gatorade. "You should drink all of that too." Doing as you are told, you toss the pills back and take a big drink. "Good boy. Now let me see your arm."

A few moments later she has the IV removed and leaves you to get up and make your way to the bathroom in private to remove the catheter and then to get dressed. Sitting up, the room starts to spin a little, so you slow down and take your time.

Where's your cane… looking around, it hits you. Hanna. You left it at the tunnel when they pulled her out. That rock finds it's way back to the pit of your stomach. But at least it feels a little less enormous in the light of day.

Wonder what time it is? By the light bleeding through the blinds and the comment by Rebecca, it's most likely you are beyond late for work and by no means do you plan to do anything about that.

Ten minutes later, you've managed to make yourself presentable donning your striped pajama pants and a soft threadbare and faded-black gold skull tee. You head to the kitchen and hear the sounds of a fresh pot of coffee starting to brew and a second later the smell invades your nostrils as well.

God, you are starving too, having not eaten since lunch yesterday. And damn if that doesn't feel like a week ago, rather than a day.

As you enter the room, you look over toward the couch. Beyond it, you see the evidence from your fucked up night has been removed. Most likely they've flushed your vicodin and booze by now.

Damn it. You were stupid.

Allison. Fuck. She found you. A flash comes back. She looked so frightened.

The rock in your gut grows again. Cuddy is right. You are a fuck-up and you're dragging Allison down with you.

"Stop that." Rebecca commands you.

You look at her and tilt your head. What does she mean?

"Stop thinking she's better off without you or whatever shit is spinning around up there. Yes, you fucked up. But considering the awful fucking day you had, I think most people would have come home and gotten completely smashed. You just have to work harder than most today, and tomorrow and the next day to make sure you don't repeat the same fuck up. And pushing away the person who loves you the most and who wants nothing more than to help you through this, is a bad fucking way to start."

"She would be better off." You say, softly, but consider Rebecca's words.

"No. She wouldn't. Believe me. I've seen the before and after. As fucked up as you are, she is better with you. It works that way sometimes. Don't fight it. Just accept that you are lucky as hell to have each other and stop fucking it up. Stay on your meds and maybe consider tee-totaling it on the alcohol. I don't think you do moderation well."

"How did you know I stopped taking them?" You ask, wondering if Allison talked to her about your quitting the depression treatment.

"I've been there, done that, so I know the signs. And Allison talked to me about it. When you started showing the withdrawal signs, she started counting your pills. She wanted you to talk to her about it. She was afraid if she brought it up, you would think she was trying to control you and that it would backfire. She was considering calling Nolan."

You nod. Rebecca doesn't seem depressed to you. Well, you idiot, that is probably because she is treating it.

"Thanks," you tell her. You don't normally take this sort of advice well, but today, you have no more fight left. As high as you were on emotion yesterday you are left empty today. As if you poured it all out and have only the slightest drop left.

"The two of you need to talk, Greg. She's blaming herself for not talking to you. This isn't going to work if you don't open up completely. You don't have to show yourself to the world, but if you want a life with Allison, you have to let her in all of the way, otherwise it can't ever be an 'us.' I'm not saying you have to confess every dark secret you have, or not lie if she ever gets a little fat," she winks, "but you need to be honest with her about how you feel, and about the addiction, and the depression. She can help you, but you have to let her."

"I know. I just… I just suck at this part."

"Hey…" Sitting on the edge of the couch, you nudge Allison gently. "Wake up, Rebecca made us breakfast." She stirs, and looks up at you with groggy eyes. Slowing piecing things together as she comes out of her deep slumber.

"Hey…" She answers back, and yawns. "I'm sorry. I guess I feel asleep. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, thanks to you," you reach up and tuck the hair falling from her slept-in pony-tail behind her ear. "Your friend slipped you a sedative, which is good, because you needed to sleep."

She sits up and turns to give you room to sit fully on the couch beside her. "I need to shower." She says looking down at herself, dirty and disheveled from her work the day before.

"Yes, you do," you tell her. "Be quick, the warming drawer will dry out the eggs if they are in there too long."

Less than fifteen minutes later she comes out of the back, showered and changed into jeans and a faded green tee, her wet hair up in a towel, and takes a seat at the bar. Rebecca takes her food from the warming drawer and puts it in front of her.

"Thank you so much," she says to her friend. "Really, for everything. You didn't need to stay, you should get back to your family and get some rest."

"Don't mention it. You'd do the same for me. But you're right, I do need to get home." She admits and starts to gather the few personal things she came with. "Call me later." she says to Allison with a hug, and lets herself out.

Finally you are alone with Allison. Both of you need to work through this, but after she eats.

Lying in bed on your sides, you face one another, hands intertwining in the middle. Neither of you really knows how to start, so you just enjoy not being alone, together.

Sometime later you wake, not realizing you had dozed off. Allison is sleeping across from you, still holding your hand. It occurs to you in this moment that this is exactly where you want to be for the rest of your life. Lying here with the woman you love, who loves you.

You were so lost, so alone. Life was this bitter, tragic joke up until a month ago.

She changed everything.

Yesterday was completely awful, and it did nearly break you, but she's still here. Saving you. Loving you. You don't have to be alone anymore. Before, you weren't sure who you were trying to be a better man for, but today, in this moment, it is crystal clear. You want to be that better man for her. She's why you are here. She can give your life some sort of meaning beyond a number of lives saved.

You don't have to be afraid of falling anymore. Because she will be here to catch you before you break into a million peices.

Not only that, you want to be there for her. If you can be that person, for Hanna, a total stranger, you can be there for Allison. If you can allow yourself to be hurt for a stranger, shouldn't it be a risk you are willing take for the person you love more than anything? The person who loves you more than anything?

Before, you'd still be in the floor. You'd eventually wake up and chase the pain away again with two more pills and, eventually, convince yourself to get up and go on with your life of pain and misery. Like some sort of cross you're destined to bare.

Maybe Wilson would have found you. And like he has done so many times before, rolled you over to keep you from choking, then leave you to rot on your own for a while. He's long since over yourself destructive behavior. He never once picked you up, cleaned you, and put you to bed much less got you on an IV to flush the toxins, hydrate you and in general prevent a massive and awful pain filled day after.

Sure, once you were back up again, he might show up with platitudes and tell you to get help. You'd listen, but probably do nothing. Maybe because on some level you don't want Wilson to have to always be the one who saves you, you would push him away.

But this. This pure love and understanding, you've only ever gotten that from your mother. Your father stood in the way of that half the time making the impact of it less meaningful.

This. This is what it means to be truly loved and now that you have it, it occurs to you you've never really had it before now.

"How do you do it?" you ask her as her eyes slowly open and focus on yours.

"Do what?" she asks, still blinking away the sleep.

"Open yourself up time and again, knowing that you will get hurt and diving in where angels fear to tread? I was forced to do it kicking and screaming and when I did, everything fell apart, and it was awful. I didn't want to have to feel for her. I didn't want to see your face in hers. I didn't want to see mine in hers or her husband's. Then I had to watch her die, knowing I couldn't save her. Having to be there for her because she trusted me to save her.

"You married a dying man. You befriend dying patients, sit with people who have no one else and hold their hand as they die. And you don't just go through the motions. You feel for them. You let yourself love them. I used to think it make you weak, now I know that I was wrong. You are so incredibly strong. How do you not just crash and burn?"

"Who says I don't?" she answers you. Looking into your eyes for a moment she continues.

"When Brian died, I got through the funeral and the burial and then I spent a week finishing off his remaining pain meds. I didn't leave the house or shower. I barely ate.

"On your team, I drank myself to sleep most every time we lost one of our patients. I don't know. I just think that it should matter when someone dies. That someone should feel like shit for them."

You still struggle to wrap your mind around it, why anyone would sign up for that kind of pain, but she wouldn't be your Allison if she didn't.

The guilt is starting to worm its way in again. The irony of her being perfect for you is that you have and will continue to do things that hurt her. Your self-destructive behavior is something you may never completely win out over, even when you try your hardest; it's woven in too tightly and it may take a lifetime of work to stay healthy and have a better life with her.

"I'm sorry," you tell her.

"For what?" she asks.

"For last night. For this whole last week. For not talking to you about my medication. It was a stupid thing to do, I was doing great… then… I just thought I could manage on my own again without feeling like I had to dull the world to do it. Maybe if I hadn't been so stupid, you wouldn't have had to deal with the fallout."

"I think you should call Nolan. He needs to know. He may want to adjust things. Maybe you can even come off them eventually, but cold turkey is… it's just…"

"Stupid. You can say it. I know it was."

"Yeah." She admits and strokes your thumb with hers. "But last night, don't apologize for that. That was my fault. I should have come back with you. I could see you were on the edge. I just didn't expect Hanna to die I guess. I was worried about you, but I didn't think about you having a stash. I should have. It's textbook and I should have thought to check. Especially after cleaning out your old place. When Foreman told me she died, and that you were… Then I turned on my phone, and had a message from my landlord about a noise complaint and I knew I'd fucked up.

"I should have been there for you, but I wasn't, so you were left to cope in the only other way you know how."

You'll have none of this line of thought, even though it is a strange comfort that she feels a responsibility for you. She did so much for you, just by being there for you at your lowest. The way she handled Cuddy, the way she handled everything with you and Hanna. Then rushed home and prevented you from really fucking everything up. She has every right to be mad at you, to blame you, but instead she understands you. It's not like you really want to destroy everything, there are just moments you can't fight the pain anymore and you give in.

"You shouldn't have to babysit me, Allison. I'm a grown man. Last night wasn't your fault. There's every chance I would have pushed you away, found some other way to get hammered. Can't you see you saved me? I'd still be wallowing in my self pity without you. I'd be half way through a bottle of vicodin or worse today. Instead, I'm lying comfortably in bed with my beautiful girlfriend, feeling like I am the luckiest man on the planet. Instead of feeling like one bad night has to destroy everything I've worked for this last year, I feel renewed. I don't want to go back on vicodin today because I know now that all I really want is you."

She smiles at you, and it feels perfect.

"I love you," you finish, almost like a prayer.

She scoots forward and kisses you. "I love you, too. I'm so happy you are okay. You really scared me."

Kissing her back you tell her, "I know. I'm sorry. I just needed to not feel anything for a little while. I didn't even plan on taking the vicodin. I just wanted to drink and pass out. But then, when I saw the bottles… Everything hurt… I just couldn't face it any longer. I don't even remember much after the first few drinks. I was so tired and dehydrated it didn't take much to get smashed and then I'm sure smashed me thought it was a great idea to keep going."

"Yeah you were pretty bad off when I came home."

"Damnit. I'm really sorry. You had a shit day yesterday too, and I just made it shittier and longer."

She raises her hand to your face and places a finger on your lips to quiet you.

"I'm fine Greg. You're fine. Everything is going to be fine. Yes, yesterday was a shit day. But we're stuck having those. We don't always get to have the luxury of personal detachment. And we are going to lose people. That's the job. You taught me that, so I know you know it. But you don't have to do this alone anymore. Neither of us does."

"Yesterday, in Cuddy's office, you said a lot of things… Did you really mean all of that?"

"Yeah. Every word."

"I want those things, Allison. I let the pain drive out every good thing inside me for so long. I wanted a family, I wanted a life outside of work. I wasn't sure I'd be any good at it. I still have no clue. Stacy was right when she told me she was always second to the puzzles. I don't know if that part of me can even change. But with you, I don't know, I feel like you're a part of my work as much as you are a part of my home. So things don't seem out of balance with you. Maybe, that's what I needed to make it all work.

"All I know is that when I am with you, I really want all of it. I think about marrying you. I wonder what our kids will look like. It scares the hell out of me, but it also feels like the most right thing I've ever done. I don't think anyone else has ever made me feel this okay about being myself. Most just leave me to wallow in my misery. Maybe I deserve it, maybe I push them away when they try to help too often, but you are the only one who is just too stubborn to give up and somehow manages not get dragged down with me.

"I don't do compliments well, or often, but I was so proud of you yesterday. My head was spinning and there you were this picture of control. My meek little teddy-bear made by Grandma, all grown up, kicking ass and taking names. I know that in the ER you have to make those kinds of tough calls, but seeing it first hand really made me proud to think I had a hand in it. You were right to leave my team. You did learn all you could from me and you've gone from being a good doctor to a great one by making your own path."

She's crying now. Damn women and their tears. You reach your hand to her cheek and wipe them with your thumb.

"Thank you, Greg. That means more to me than you can ever know." She tells you, but that's wrong. You do know. It's the only thing you had ever really wanted to hear from your father. 'I'm proud of you.' Those simple four words would have make a world of difference. You don't want to be like him, so you decide to start here.

You kiss her then; a slow kiss. One that tells her how much you love her. "Marry me?"

The words slip from your lips without real thought. For a split second you want to retract, but then a calmness comes over you. Allison's eyes get larger as your words sink in. It does nothing to help the crying.

"Come on, Allison, you know you want to get started on our plan for world domination sooner than later. It'll be fun." You wink at her.

She's still speechless. You are pretty sure you have the answer, given the look in her eyes. But you need to hear the words, so you pull out all the stops.

Pulling her even tighter into your embrace to you you whisper in her ear, "Vamos lá, amor. Diga sim então nós podemos ir pra parte onde celebramos." Come on my love, say yes so we can get to the part where we celebrate.

You feel her breath on your ear then she softly whispers, "Claro que eu me caso com você. Eu te amo. Então, me conte sobre essa celebração que você tem em mente." Of course I'll marry you. I love you. So, tell me about this celebration you had in mind.

Your head pulls back and you give her a shocked look. What the hell? "You lied."

"I didn't answer the question. There's a difference," she smirks.

"You sneaky… that's it, I'll teach you." You laugh and swing yourself on top of her and start tickling her relentlessly. She squirms and kicks under you, laughing loudly and trying in vain to escape. After a few dangerously close calls with her knee and your balls, you cease your attack and kiss her, and as you do it really sinks in.

You just got engaged. She said yes!

Clothes goes flying from the bed at a record rate and you are on top of her again, the tip of your cock teasing her entrance as you kiss her. It is at this moment that your phone rings.

"Dammit," you curse, still poised at her entrance, you glance over toward the end table where you can see the call is from Wilson. Good, not the hospital or your team.

"Ahhh… God, you're so tight… baby."

Sinking into her slowly inch by inch, as you watch her head thrown back, has to be heaven. When you are to the hilt, she looks up into your eyes and you start a slow and exquisite pace.

Her legs travel up yours, slowly making their way up and around your ass. Her calves press against your butt cheeks, encouraging your slow, deep penetration. She's never felt more yours than this moment, giving herself to you, promising the future to you, promising this intimacy to only you from this moment forward. In this moment, you feel as if she has already become your wife, and the paperwork and title are mere red tape to be dealt with.

The most amazing and open and honest person you have ever known wants to spend the rest of your life with you.

No tricks.

No con.

All you had to do is ask for it and she gave it to you.

Ring…. Ring… Ring…..

"Fuck!" you hiss, as you push in all the way and pause, looking again at the phone to see the ID of the caller.

Wilson. Again. Got to put an end to his coitus interruptus! Grabbing the phone you answer "Hello, you have reached the voicemail of Gregory House. Greg can't make it to the phone right now because he is balls deep, in his fiancé, but if you'd like to leave a message, you can do so after the beep." You pause for a second, and hear only shocked silence on the other line.

"Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep," you hang up and toss the phone on the edge of the bed.

"Now, where were we?" you begin your thrusts again, less seriously, having the mood broken by Wilson, of course. He always does have shit timing. Hopefully, this time, he takes the hint.

"I can't believe that is how you told your best friend." she laughs.

"Want me to dial up Rebecca, next?" you tease, grabbing her legs under the knees and pushing her open to thrust even deeper. "I bet she'd love to listen in on it. Maybe she and her husband can use it as inspiration. Then she can slip the kids a sedative and get her groove on."

Picking up the pace, you demonstrate just such a groove and a scream is your reward for finding her g-spot on the last upstroke. "There it is. Now, I'm going to fuck that spot until you spray come all over your fiancé."

You continue to pound into her at a steady pace as you make good on your promise. Her tight, wet, little pussy starts milking you moments later as she grabs the sheets and screams your name. Her climax is long and massages you decadently, until you feel the pressure build and your release comes in short waves as you spill into her.

Laying intertwined, you roll over and pull her on top of you, so you can hold her as closely as you both need, without crushing her. As your breath slows, your heart pounds with a happiness it has never felt before, and at least, right now, in this one moment, your life feels like a life.

Your stomach breaks the silence, announcing with a growl that, as good as this is, you both need to go eat. "I'm starving again. Wanna go get food? Then, I need a new cane and you need a ring. Then we can come back here and have the official celebration."

"Oh, so that wasn't official?" she raises up and looks at you with one eyebrow raised.

"Nope. That was the undress rehearsal. Can't call it real so long as your left fourth proximal digit is naked."

"I'll race you to the shower," she teases as she sits up to straddle you, smiling.

Putting on your most serious face you scold her. "Hey! It's not nice to tease the cripple."

"Unless the cripple likes to be teased," she finishes with a wink and a kiss, then climbs out of bed and sways her ass to the shower. Sitting up, you grab a tissue to do a little drip prevention clean up, when you hear her call out.

"Oh, shit!"

"Are you okay? What happened." Standing, you amble, still no cane, to the bathroom where she looks up to you, then you look down at what she is holding in her hand. "Oh."

"Yeah." She worries her lip a little.

"Looks like we're buying a pack of condoms now too."

She nods a yes, and pushes two pills from her birth control packet, yesterday's and today's, and takes both. Well, it's a small chance, but looks like things could get even more interesting yet. But you're surprisingly okay with that.

Walking past her, you slowly step into the shower then look back to her. "Guess I win. Now get that stunning ass in here, so we can celebrate some more."

Final Author's Notes:

FF . net has been having issues with the review system. I've gotten most of the latest by email, but there is at least one missing if the number of reviews showing in the summary is correct, so if I don't write you back right away, don't hate me because it probably isn't my fault, but please don't let the bug in the system keep you from sending a note. :)

So we have come to the end of my sixth season remix. Thank you so much for reading, reviewing and sticking with me through the last 6+ months. It's by far the most I've written ever and was really a lot of fun and a tremendous learning experience.

Ch. 29, was of course, my AU version of 6.22 "Help Me." If you've seen that episode, you know I robbed it blind of its dialog. However, I hope everyone enjoyed the places I bent it to my will and I also hope that you enjoyed my take on what was spinning around in House's head. It is always fun for me to try and decide what parts of the universe would stay the same and what parts would change, had Cameron left Chase at the altar and House come around to the idea of her being the best thing for him. But it also means some chapters I borrow a ton from the canon story, because I think that the case would take on a slightly different meaning to House in this reality, while on the surface levels, it would remain very much the same.

As you know, I did bleed over a day into season 7 for chapter 30, and that part of the story is all mine. I am sure no one wanted me to leave it hanging like on the real show. I do hope to have time to spin up a couple of sequels, but I have a story on the back burner that is burning a hole in my brain right now, and I need to go take care of it. :) - It is more Hameron, but a totally different AU, so stay tuned for that in the next couple of weeks/months.

I did my best to leave this story with a final cadence that we all can live with and be happy going forward, but still leaving plenty of little side stories open for later.

If it seems like House did too much of a 180, from 29 to 30, sorry. I did that purposely because a lot of what someone with depression deals with are big mood swings up and down. This is even reflected in his morning after "Help Me" in canon, with the ship that will not be mentioned. If he seems a little OOC, it's because he is having one of those rare days that he wants to be an adult and fix himself. We see flashes of that guy all through the series, and especially in his plea to Hanna to let him amputate. I was channeling that House and I hope it came through without you needing to read this note, but if not, I tried and now you know what I was going for.

One of the most interesting things about House is his constant struggle. I wanted to get in his head and tackle some of that and explore all of the inner dialog that goes along with those kinds of ups and downs. That is one big reason I did the story in second person, and I hope that came through.

I felt like at some point I got a much better handle on writing in this voice as well, which was the mechanical thing I was hoping to get out of this whole exercise, but I'd be interested in any feedback you have on this technical aspect as well.

I don't think I ever had an idea of this being something as long as Catch-22, but it is, and it was a blast the whole way. So much of that had to do with how well it was received by the readers. So thank you for the support!

I would be remiss to leave you without a huge nod to my beta and new found friend atavares. She volunteered with no clue what this would become. I think she just wanted to work on her English and get a little Hameron out of the effort. But turns out we had a lot in common and ended up just spending hours hanging and chatting online during work and late at night. Her friendship is really the coolest thing I got out of this.

In closing, please drop me a note and let me know how you liked the ending. And, I'd also like to hear you opinions on something else. If, and I hope I do, get to write a season 7 alternate take for this AU, would you like me to continue in second person—all from House's POV, switch to more of a normal 3rd person omniscient POV, or maybe mix it up. I've seen some nice stories that alternate POV and voice chapter by chapter.

I am open to suggestions. :) Second person has a cool flavor for House in particular, but boy oh boy it ties one's hands when things need to happen with other charters and as an author you need to figure out how to disseminate all the shit that is floating around in your brain. Then again, that does force one to edit.

Anyway, thanks for the ride and feel free to let me know if you have a take! Feel free to favorite me as an author so you don't miss out on my next Hameron adventure.