This is an angsty little oneshot. The song lyrics are in bold. The song is "It's All Over But The Crying" by Garbage. I don't own the song or the characters (quite sadly). Enjoy!

Everything you think you know, baby, is wrong.

And everything you think you had, baby, is gone.

He knew numbers, figures, dates. He could tell you what diseases you could have just by giving you the once over. When it came to medicine and diagnostics, he was on the top of his game. That was what he found comfort in. Everything had an answer, even if you couldn't figure it out in time. The answer was always there.

That's why this was so difficult. He wasn't good with relationships. How could he be? He couldn't always tell what his partner was thinking. He used to think he knew, until he realized he was horribly mistaken. Women were hard. Women didn't always have an answer.

He was pretty sure that was the reason why he still clung to the hope that she would miraculously turn to him and confess her love. He was certain she loved him. Nearly positive. But, of course, he couldn't rely on his instincts. They had a tendency to fail him in that department. Especially when he was dealing with her.

Certain things turn ugly when you think too hard.

And nagging little thoughts change into things you can't turn off.

He had convinced himself that he had her. He convinced himself that, even though she wouldn't admit it, she was his. He was sure of it. A bit. Enough.

But, she wasn't.

He was alone. Often, he laid awake and thought of her, wondering if she was sleep. Hoping she was alone as well. It gave him a sense of hope to think that she was just denying him for now, but would eventually give into him.

Except that she wouldn't.

It pained him. Physically. Emotionally. But, he couldn't let that get to him. So, he distanced her from him by insulting her, criticizing her, making sure she knew he couldn't stand her. He hit her with his immaturity just as a boy pulls the hair of a female classmate he fancies. It was all about showing an intense emotion without admitting it. It was all about making sure she noticed and thought about him every single day.

Even if it drove her further away every single day.

He downed a shot of bourbon. He needed to stop thinking. It was time for action. He threw on his jacket and picked up his cane. He was out the door in a matter of minutes.

Do you really think I'm made of stone, baby? C'mon...

She took his unexpected late night arrival well. She had been dressed still, staying up to do her bills and make sure her finances were in order. He appeared pathetic and she let him in.

"What do you want, House?" Her voice was irritated and held a hint of chill.

"Wanted to see you." He peered around her though, peeking at the different rooms in her home, making sure they were alone.

"You need to stop this," she told him. Her voice was tired as well. "You can't keep showing up at my house in the dead of night. Not only is it annoying, but it's also creepy."

"Yeah, I'm sure you mind, Cruella," he replied. "Do you think I show up here for my own enjoyment? I'd rather walk barefoot on hot coals. I needed to discuss something with you."

She narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"Been getting complaints about your wardrobe." He raised his eyebrows.

"You came all this way to talk about clothes." She stared.

"They're whorish, distracting," he eyed her up, "tight, revealing, and my team is simply too distracted whenever you walk into the room."

"House." She sighed. "This needs to stop."

"It stops when you say it does," he responded.

"Stop!" she exclaimed, a little too loud for him. "Stop, please! I can't do this with you. Not now. Maybe not ever. You're too... you treat me too... Stop. House. Please."

He leaned closer into her. "You can't keep denying me, Cuddy."

"Yes." She nodded. "Yes, I can. Because we're not together. We were. Once. But, House, that was... you had your chance, you did. I gave you your chance. I'm not yours. I can't do this with you anymore. I used to be so strong, but you cut me down. I can't do this. You need to stop."

That we only love the things we own, baby? You're wrong.

"Cuddy..." he lowered his tone.

"Don't." She held up a pointed finger. "Don't do that. You can't love me, House."

"I can't?" he repeated, becoming angry. "How the hell do you know what I'm feeling, Cuddy? How the hell can you say that?"

Her eyes were rapidly filling with tears. She moved away from him. "You don't understand. You really don't get it."

He grabbed her arm to keep her close to him. "Get what? My feelings for you?"

"No!" She yanked her arm away. She couldn't breathe. "The fact that you are everything that I can't be with. You can't make me happy, House. You hurt too much."

"I-" House let out a frustrated cry. How could he make her see that the only reason he said all those things was to keep her attention on him? How could he explain it to her to make her stop crying? "Cuddy, it kills me every day when I see you! Don't you realize that I need to have you? I need this."

She shook her head. "You want what rejects you. It's better that way for you. You make people objects, beings without feelings. You kick them around, damage them until they reject you. Then, you make your move. Do you think I didn't love you before? I had real emotions for you, House. Real feelings that gave me a real hurt when you stopped and became the man who ogles and insults me at the same time. You can't have back the thing you gave up."

"You're full of crap, Cuddy," House said, his face showing his disgust. "You deny, you make things into what they're not."

"And you cut people down with your words to make them your own. Only then can you can finally love them. But, that's not love, House."

Certain things just happen when you make no plans
And love can really tear you up and it can break you down

"You're just saying that to be a bitch." His words were hollow. He had to give some sort of comeback, though it felt weak.

"You need to leave." She tried to hold back her tears.

He looked away from her, letting out a breath. He could taste the alcohol that remained on his tongue. She followed him to her front door, opening it for him. He paused before crossing the doorway into the night.

Without thinking, he made a move and the door remained open as he pressed her back into the wall, his mouth on hers. The tears began down her face again as she kissed him back. She turned her head away.

"This hurts..." She sniffed, trying to keep any more tears from falling. She wanted to get her emotional dignity back.

"We can't just stop this like the past never happened," he whispered in her ear.

His hands were on either side of her, keeping her between him, with him. She still wouldn't look at him. He moved his mouth down her neck. Lips. Tongue. Roaming, scanning, leaving hot impressions on her exposed flesh.

"You need to go," she repeated, in a whisper this time.

As soon as those words left her mouth, she turned her head, bringing her lips to his. She was forceful and grabbed the fabric of his jacket in her hands.

If I could I would
I'd change everything
Cause I can't forget you though you don't believe me

She broke from him. They were moving. She pushed the front door closed. They were heading for her bedroom. He had difficulty with his limp after he dropped his cane. They entered the darkened bedroom, clutching onto each other, kissing each other, articles of clothing falling to the floor.

"This was easier before," she breathed out.

He removed her shirt in one quick moment. "We were different before."

"You know we can't." She stepped away from him, turning her back to him, goosebumps covering her.

His warm hand rested on her bare shoulder. She shuddered.

"We can't simply stop it either," he replied.

"Yes, we can." She closed her eyes. "We can forget. I have. It's in the past. We have to stop going back to that. It doesn't exist anymore."

"I can't just forget you, Cuddy." His eyebrows drew together. "I can't just forget everything we had... everything we were."

She opened her eyes. They held a coldness that he was unaware of as he stood behind her. She let out a breath. "You already have."

It's all over but the crying
Fade to black I'm sick of trying

He removed his hand. He reached toward the floor and swiped up his jacket. His cane was in the hall. He slid his jacket on.

"You will always think that I don't love you," he told her.

She still didn't turn around. "What you're referring to isn't love."

"Then, what is it, Cuddy?" He was curious.

"Want." Her voice was cold. "You may want me, but you don't love me. I felt both. But, not anymore."

He stared at her. She was wrong, he was sure. What he was feeling wasn't just want. But, he was sick of this. He didn't know what made her the way she was, but he couldn't fight it anymore. He was done fighting her in order to get her.

Without saying another word, he painfully limped out of her bedroom. His bourbon was waiting at home.

Took too much and now I'm done

It's all over but the crying.

She waited until she knew he had left. When she was certain he had, she picked up her shirt and put it back on. Holding back tears, she sat herself down on her bed.

She was sure he didn't know that it was killing her to turn him away. It took everything she could muster in herself to stop their actions before they escalated into sex. She still wanted him. She still loved him. She had lied in telling him that she felt neither of those things. But, she couldn't deal with this anymore.

He was in love with her one moment, out of love the next. He would look at her in a way that made her feel beautiful, but then he would insult her. It was an emotional roller coaster in dealing with him. She had tried. She had believed that she could be strong enough. However, the longer she put up with it, the more it took its toll on her.

She would deny her feelings for him from now on. She had to. Even if it caused her to cry alone in bed every night.

Baby, we're done.

Fin.