Ah, my dear friends... This is the last chapter. Thank you for all the feedback and thanks to everyone who had stuck by from beginning to end! I'm so glad this fic was well received. Thanks, again! And enjoy the last installment. :o)
House had regulated his breathing to match Cuddy's as the minutes passed. It was the only thing to keep him focused and occupy his mind so he didn't think about the possibility that no one would be coming. He knew that if there was a slight change in her breathing or heart rate, he would immediately dive into a new plan of transporting Cuddy's body to the resort.
There was the sound of rustling and an echo. House picked up his head, scanning the surrounding area, stopping at any sight of movement. Someone was out there.
"Hello?"
The voice was getting closer. And another voice. House felt immensely relieved.
"Help!" House called out. "Over here!"
"We're coming!" A voice shouted back. "Keep talking."
"Over here!" House repeated. "We're over here!"
House saw a flash of blue through the trees. Two male paramedics came into view, carrying a collapsed stretcher as they hurried through the woods. The man in camouflage followed after. House painfully forced himself to his feet, cane in hand.
The two paramedics gave House a quick greeting and set the stretcher down next to Cuddy. One checked her pulse and pulled oxygen from his backpack. He placed the oxygen mask over Cuddy's mouth. The other paramedic checked out Cuddy's injury. When he saw the stitches, he glanced up at House.
"What happened here?" The paramedic asked.
"That idiot shot her." House indicated the man. "She was losing too much blood. I had to sew her up to stop the bleeding... I'm a doctor by the way."
"Oh," the paramedic replied and then helped to lift Cuddy on to the stretcher.
On the count of three, the two paramedics lowered the wheels to the stretcher, deciding it was best to try and push the stretcher through the terrain, rather than try to carry her and risk falling. House bent down and picked up his jacket, which he slid on. He next picked up Cuddy's jacket and her purse. He debated taking her bloodied shirt, but decided against it. He didn't care all that much about biohazardous materials being left in nature.
Once House was ready to follow after the paramedics, he looked up to see the man in camouflage staring at him.
"What?" House asked him, angrily.
"You... you really operated on her?" The man's eyes wouldn't make eye contact due to his nervousness of talking to House.
"It was that or else she would have died," House answered and limped past the man. House stopped and turned. "You might want to follow me. The cops will have some questions."
"I know." The man nodded and began to walk after House.
House stopped again and turned to the man once more. The man stopped and retracted, afraid of what House was going to say to him next.
"Thank you," House spoke sincerely, looking the man in the eye.
The man was taken aback by House's gratitude. House turned back around and headed in the direction of the resort, following after the paramedics. He didn't talk to the man again.
Cuddy opened her eyes slowly, a white hospital room focusing into view. Her head felt fuzzy and she groaned against the harsh lighting in the room.
"I didn't kill you."
Cuddy turned her head in the direction of the voice. House was seated in a chair next to her hospital bed. He was wearing a clean shirt, but appeared scruffier than usual.
"Did you..." Cuddy pulled up her blankets, looking for some sort of indication that House had operated on her. However, she didn't feel like lifting her hospital gown so she replaced the blankets and looked back to House for the answer.
"I have the bullet if you want it." House reached into his pocket and extracted the piece of metal that was still partially stained with blood.
"I don't want that." Cuddy shook her head at him.
"Shucks." House threw it in the air and caught it. "I thought you would have wanted to keep a little souvenir of something that almost killed you."
"I'm sure the scar is souvenir enough, House," Cuddy replied, cocking an eyebrow in his direction. "Where's the guy?"
"Idiot who shot you?" House asked, clarifying. "He's chatting it up with some lawyers and cops right now. But, if you want to see him, I'm sure we can give him a call and-"
"House," Cuddy warned.
"No?" House acted surprised.
"So... I'm better now, right?" Cuddy was almost afraid that her luck of being alive was too good to be true.
"Well, you did have the best surgeon in the world," House replied. "And in case your brain is too hopped up on painkillers to understand, I mean me."
Speaking of drugs, House reminded himself to pop a Vicodin, which he did. Cuddy stared at him, her eyebrows drawing together.
"Where did you get those?" Cuddy asked, curiously.
"We are in a hospital, Cuddy, lest you forget." House told her, but changed the subject. "I called up Princeton-Plainsboro for you. Told everyone some idiot wanted to put your head on a mantel. Wilson was worried, Cameron was concerned, Foreman didn't care, and Chase said "Dr. Cuddy who?" but he's an Aussie, so he'll have to be excused. He's been 'down under' too long."
"You're funny, House," Cuddy replied and rolled her eyes.
"Okay, okay." House raised a hand. "You got me. Wilson wasn't worried, he cried like a baby."
That got Cuddy to laugh, which made House smile in spite of himself. Cuddy stopped laughing quickly though, a pain at the sight of her injury.
"Careful," House warned, his warning laced with sarcasm. "Don't want you to rip those pretty little stitches out. I might have to fix you and the closest thing I have to thread is a pack of floss. It's spearmint and it'll probably burn."
"Why are you carrying around floss?" Cuddy stared at him, wondering if he was lying to her or not.
House shrugged. "Have you ever seen Pretty Woman?"
Cuddy narrowed her eyes.
"You shouldn't neglect your gums," House quoted.
"It scares me that you know that, House," Cuddy replied, hiding a smile. She paused and took in a breath. "Thank you."
"For...?" House's forehead wrinkled.
"Saving my life," Cuddy told him. "I guess you have a 'Get Out of Jail Free Card.'"
"I would assume so," House agreed. "Although, I didn't do it for you. You die and some jackass comes in and takes your place and I'm fired in two days. It was really about keeping my job."
"Right." Cuddy nodded slightly.
Cuddy gave House a smile. House didn't smile back, but his eyes displayed the emotion that a smile would have similarly shown. They both understood that House had not done the surgery to save his job.
They wouldn't talk about it much after the fact, but they would often separately recall that day in the woods. Cuddy would always remember it as the time House had actually put someone else before himself, showing that he really did care for at least one other human being. House would always recall it as the only day he had ever said a prayer in his life.
Fin.