Author's Note (Part One): Guess who's back? Sorry it took an amazingly long time to update, I got completely caught up in my other story which is now (mostly) finished. Please accept my humble and sincere apologies. Let me also add my thanks for those of you still out there reading, alerting and, especially, commenting on this story. It makes me uber-happy and I hope you'll continue to do it! Without further adieu, here's the next chapter... hope you like all the Huddy-ness! These characters all belong to David Shore, who is the man and who I bow down before (if you've read Us Weekly lately, you know why) and kiss his feet.

Chapter 11

Jules yawned as she walked into the kitchen, groggy and wet-headed. James was sitting on the couch, mug in one hand, running the other over his rough jaw, watching tv. She poured herself a cup of coffee and padded into the living room, opting to sit in the armchair rather than on the sofa with her brother.

"Back with the finger-fiddlers, Adam and Jamie have just tasted success. Using a ballistics gel fingerprint they beat the computer scanner," the narrator summarized.

"What is this... the fifth time you've watched this episode in the past three days?" Jules asked staring at the screen.

"I like the show," he said simply, taking a swig.

"You know they re-run episodes of MythBusters all the time. You could Tivo another episode, that way you don't have to keep watching this one over and over."

"I like this one. It's got a fingerprint security system. Which is cool," he smiled at her over his mug.

She groaned, "Wil, I've got the dialogue memorized. I think it's time to move on."

"Fine, you can help me pick out some shows to record tonight. We can argue over time-slots and eat take-out."

"Normally, I'd jump at the chance to explain just how many ways 'Chuck' is superior to 'Dancing with the Stars', but I have plans tonight."

"Plans?" he said surprised. "What kind of plans? Did your manager find out you're in the States? Are they forcing you to go to dinner again?"

"Yes they found out, yes I have to go to dinner, but not tonight. Dr. Cameron, I think that's her name--"

"Pretty, blonde hair, likes vests?"

"That's the one. Anyway, Dr. Cameron invited me to go out for drinks with her and some other of House's former and current fellows. They want to grill me about House; what he was like when he was with Stacy, what he was like after, why I left, those kinds of things."

"And you're willing to talk about them?" he raised an eyebrow. "You're always telling me that you aren't into 'rehashing the past'."

"I know, but she seemed so nice and excited; I couldn't say no. I felt like I would be crushing her dreams."

James smiled, "She has that effect on people."

"It might be fun, getting to know someone other than you and Cuddy. You know I've never had a lot of people to talk to. Might be a nice change."

"I'm happy for you," James said half-heartedly. He didn't mean to sound so defeated as he said it. Part of him, the part of him the was her loving big brother, wanted her to find some new friends. But another part of him, the one that was miserable and grieving, was comforted by the parallels between them; no partner, lonely, a friend in Lisa Cuddy and their sibling. The parallels made him feel close to her, despite feeling removed from everyone else. If her circumstances changed, then he would be alone again and he didn't know if he could cope.

"I don't have to go," she offered, noticing the sadness in his voice.

"No, no, you should go and get to know people. I'll order some Chinese and tackle the Tivo by myself."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's good that you're going out because now I know that I can tape 'Grey's Anatomy' and 'Desperate Housewives' and you won't be here to argue with me."

"You know you could go out, too. A shave, pressed pants, dinner with a friend might be a good thing for your morale."

"My morale is fine," he reassured her.

"Wil, you've been sitting on the couch every spare moment you have."

"I like sitting on the couch and watching tv. Besides, I don't have anyone to go out with," he finished, sadly.

They were silent for a few moments before Jules said, "Maybe if you talk to him--"

James shot her a look, "I don't want to talk to him."

"It's been weeks."

"So it's been weeks."

"James," he took notice of the use of his first name. She only used it when she was being serious and wanted him to listen. "You obviously miss him--"

"I don't miss him."

"And he obviously misses you. Maybe it's time to forgive him. Maybe it's time to work through the issues you have with him. Maybe you should try to move past your anger and try to fix your friendship."

"I don't think it can be fixed."

"You'll never know until you try."

"Sometimes you can. Sometimes you know."

"What happened was horrible, but it wasn't House's fault. There's no way he could have known that Amber would pick up the phone, that she would follow him on the bus, that the bus would crash, the she would be injured, that she would--"

"I know," he said tensely. "I know it wasn't House's fault, but he could have prevented it, I could have prevented it. All those years of neediness and enabling--"

"Stop it. Stop blaming yourself. Stop blaming House. It's not your fault. It's not his. Amber's dead and it's unfair and tragic, but separating yourself from House, distancing yourself from your friendship with him is not helping, it's just making you both more miserable."

"We both deserve to be miserable; we should be."

"You can't live the rest of your life in solitude and despair because you feel guilty. Misery is not a requirement of mourning. Just because you're content, just because you smile or laugh from time to time, just because you're friends with House doesn't mean that you don't love her, it doesn't mean that you don't miss her or that you never cared about her. It's okay to move on."

James sighed and stared at his mug. They finished their cups of coffee in silence watching Adam and Jamie beat the lock, Jules' words filling up the space between them.

When he made his way into the kitchen to put his mug in the dishwasher, Jules followed him. She watched him put on his shoes and find his keys.

"Just think about it," she said to him as he was on the way out of the door. "Just think about trying."

The day had passed painfully slowly. Since there seemed to be no medical mysteries to pass around, House had been forced to work in the clinic with the rest of his staff. The only interesting part of the day came from Kutner who, after the second consecutive hour of duty, suggested that they all speak to the patients in various accents. Normally, it was the kind of idiotic suggestion that would cause House to shoot his fellow a demoralizing look, but the day was so boring he grabbed at the chance to have any fun, even if it was childish-- Or, maybe, especially because it was.

Kutner and House played their game for a little over three hours with intermittent participation from Thirteen-- Taub had refused, moody due to a fight with his wife. Kutner impressively convinced a little old lady he was from Sweden, while House had been particularly proud he conned a young businessman into believing he was from China. As the clock approached three, House locked a door to one of the exam rooms and decided to take a little nap until it was five, when he could scurry off to Cuddy's office without threat of being punished.

"Rise and shine," Cuddy said loudly, shoving House awake. When he didn't respond, he pushed him again, this time harder, "House. Wake up."

He groaned, "Come back in fifteen minutes. I'm having a good dream."

Even though his eyes were closed he could feel her put her hands on her hips, "You were supposed to be in my office with your paperwork an hour and a half ago."

"Seriously, you're just about to kiss Carmen Electra. Go away."

She smiled, "House, I'm hungry. Come on."

"Fine," he complained, finally opening his eyes. "Now I'll never know how it ends. "

"Carmen Electra's not my type, so I decided to shake her hand instead. Hurry up."

House sat up and grabbed his cane from where it was hanging on the side of the exam table. "Carmen's everybody's type." He stood up and stretched.

"Not mine," she said opening the door. "Now, if you'd have said Salma Hayek..." Cuddy smiled back at him as she left the room, laughing at the look of shock on his face; eyes wide, mouth hanging open.

Cuddy tapped the top of her pen against the desk several times impatiently, her stomach growled, wondering where their food was. After six sharp clicks, House glanced up from the charts he was pretending to work on. He smiled as he watched her play with her pearls absentmindedly while studying her paperwork.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Didn't they say forty-five minutes? It's been fifty-eight," she answered, irritated. "Maybe we should call."

"They said forty-five minutes to an hour. They've still got two minutes. Trust me, they'll be here," he looked back down at his charts.

She exhaled sharply, "Fine. They've got two minutes. If they're not here by then--"

Cuddy was interrupted by a loud knock on the outermost door to her office. She was surprised to see a small Asian man smiling at her enthusiastically with four large bags of food.

"House, how much food did you order?"

"I know the kind of appetites you succubi have. I wanted to make sure there was enough so you didn't eat me, too," he said swiping his cane and standing up. "Come on, I can't carry the food all by myself."

Cuddy eagerly dropped her pencil and made her way to the door with House. She flipped on the light in the entrance room to her office while House popped open the door.

"Hello, Dr. House. How are you doing tonight?" the man asked happily.

"Good, thanks Bo."

"Sorry about taking so long, but I went to your office first and then I saw the note on the door," he peaked around House to see Cuddy. "I thought maybe this was Dr. Wilson's office, but I guess not." The old man smiled at House. "I see why you needed all the food. It's nice that you're on a date."

House returned the smile, "Bo Leung, this demon temptress is my boss, Dr. Lisa Cuddy."

Cuddy rolled her eyes while Bo laughed. "Nice to meet you Mr. Leung," she said taking the bags from his hands and setting them on her secretary's desk briefly.

"Call me Bo, everyone does. Pleased to meet you Dr. Cuddy. I'm glad to see that Dr. House is finally taking my advice and getting out dating again," he said, pulling out the receipt from his pocket and handing it to House.

"Oh, we're not dating, we're just friends," Cuddy replied.

"Not dating? Too bad. You two make a good couple. Almost as handsome as me and my wife."

House grabbed a pen from the cup on the desk, scribbled his signature and returned the receipt to the delivery-man. He pulled twenty dollars from his pocket and handed that to Bo. Cuddy's raised her eyebrows, surprised that a cheapskate like House would ever tip someone, let alone that much.

"Thank you, Dr. House. Generous as always. Dr. Cuddy, it was a pleasure. I hope I'll be seeing much more of you in the future." Cuddy smiled and nodded. "她喜欢您, 我能知道," he said to House as he was leaving.

"您真正地认为如此?"

"是, 不要弄糟它."

"我将尝试不是," House replied perfectly. Cuddy looked at him, unable to hide how impressive she found it. "I know, I'm awesome."

She laughed and picked up the bags of food, making her way back in her office. "When did you learn Chinese?"

"In college. I was taking Eastern Philosophy and got bored, so I decided to learn a language."

Cuddy plopped the food on the coffee table and took a seat in her favorite armchair. House flung himself on the sofa and began tearing into the bags.

"Should I get us plates?" she asked as he began pulling carton after carton of food out, sorting by some secret criteria.

"Plates?!" he asked, pretending to be scandalized. "Cuddy! Are you a philistine? You can't eat Chinese food on plates!"

"You can't?" she replied, amused.

"Of course not! You've got to eat it out of the carton! The food tastes better that way. Duh."

"Well, if it tastes better," she said, reaching for an eggroll.

After he had pulled out all the food from three bags, he opened the last one to reveal a six pack of Tsingtao beer.

"House, we can't drink beer, we're working."

"We're not on call and we're only doing paperwork. Besides, you can't eat Chinese food without drinking beer."

"But I don't like beer."

"Trust me, you'll like this beer. It's good, much better than that crappy Scottish beer the bartender gave you," he said, jealously peeking out.

She smiled at his response and at the memory of her courtship and his jealousy. "Well, if I'll like it," she said, taking a bottle and unscrewing the cap.

"You know that's the second time in the last five minutes you've deferred to my judgement. I like this new, submissive Cuddy. I wonder what else I can get you to do," he wagged his eyebrows and she laughed while rolling her eyes.

Wilson stared at the clock on his desk and ran a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes. Jules had left about an hour ago with Cameron, his paperwork had been finished for the past twenty minutes, even his filing was up-to-date. He was completely out of work, but in no mood to head back home to an empty apartment.

He kept hearing his sister's voice in his head urging him to forgive House, to move on, to try. Cameron had let it slip when she stopped by to pick up Juliana that Cuddy and House had planned to do paperwork together in her office all night. As Jules' annoying, caring, always-right voice repeated in his head, James smiled. Juliana's infallibility was always one of her more irritating qualities, and one of the only things regarding his sister that he and House agreed on.

He found himself packing his briefcase quickly, almost excited as he threw papers and files into it. Hoping that it was time, he pushed the doubt out of his mind and closed the briefcase. The trip down to the lobby from the fourth floor felt like forever and caused the nervous knots in his stomach to tighten. He walked down the hall quietly, the minute in the elevator giving him enough time to have second thoughts.

The clinic was mostly dark, lit only by security lights and the glow from Cuddy's office. He took a deep breath before peering in at his friends, hoping to stay inconspicuous. They were eating dinner, probably delivered by Bo, laughing, swiping containers from the table. Cuddy reached over and stole a snow pea with her chopsticks from the box House was eating from. House covered the box territorially and mumbled some smart remark about Cuddy's ass getting bigger. She laughed freely, batting the foot he was propping up on the coffee table. Wilson put his hand on the doorknob and paused.

While Cuddy was looking down, weeding through containers to find one particular entree, House watched her, transfixed. Even from a distance House's feelings were glaring like a cheap, neon sign. He was smiling in the way that someone who didn't know him well might wrongly diagnose as a smirk. Corners of his mouth slightly upturned, eyes filled with longing. He hadn't seen the look since Stacy's last visit, before their brief affair and his martyrdom. Cuddy looked up and House quickly hid his emotions, producing another flippant remark.

Wilson frowned and instinctively dropped his hand. House was the same, still ignoring his feelings, acting like an arrogant ass. And he was still angry, about Amber, sure, but also about House's inability to let anything good into his life, to take a chance on happiness. Wilson was angry because House could have the kind of happiness that was taken from him, but he instead chose to be miserable. Jules was wrong, it wasn't time. He turned away from the door and walked back to the lobby, brooding.

He mashed the call button and when the elevator doors popped open a haggard looking Taub was occupying the car.

"Dr. Taub," Wilson said, stepping into the elevator.

"Wilson," he replied, exhausted.

"Are you alright?" he asked, relieved he was finally able to pose the question instead of receive it.

"My wife and I... Let's just say, things could be going better."

"You want to talk about it?" Wilson offered reluctantly.

"Maybe later. Right now, I'm going to get hammered. Want to come with?"

The doors opened into the parking deck, both Wilson and Taub exited. Taub raised his eyebrows waiting for the oncologist's response.

"Sure," Wilson replied. "I'd like that."

"Great. I'll meet you at Parker's Pub?"

"Sounds good." Taub took off toward his car and Wilson made his way to his own. He felt a little guilty about accepting the invitation, but figured one drink couldn't hurt. After all, it had been a long day.

Cuddy picked up another eggroll and dipped it in red sauce. "Mmm," she mumbled as she enjoyed the bite.

House laughed, "It's like you haven't eaten in years the way you're shoving things in your mouth."

She smiled, taking a swig of beer, "I usually watch what I eat, but I figured 'what the hell?,' everyone needs to splurge every once and while. Might as well tonight since you provided such a delicious smorgasbord."

"Bo knows how to make food; you've got to give him that."

"He cooks and delivers the food?" she said picking up a noodle and slurping it.

"Bo and his wife own the restaurant. He used to make all the runs himself when they first opened about ten years ago, but now they've got a couple of locations open so he doesn't need to."

"You've been ordering from the same Chinese food place for ten years? Why does that not surprise me?"

"You know what a fan I am of change," he said sarcastically. "Anyway, Bo still makes runs for some of his best customers. There are about five of us who have been with him since the beginning; he won't let anyone else bring me my food."

"It's hard to believe that you could be someone's favorite customer," she smirked. "Must be the fact you can speak Chinese."

"I'm sure that doesn't hurt my stock," he replied, stuffing a big piece of chicken in his mouth.

"I've been wondering, what did Bo say to you when he spoke in Chinese?"

"He told me to watch out, he could tell you might handcuff me to the couch and suck the life from me. I told him, not to worry I know self-defense, then he wished me luck." Cuddy picked up a fortune cookie and threw it at him.

"If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to." Cuddy opened her cookie and read, "Your infinite capacity for patience will be rewarded sooner or later. Yeah, right. Does that mean you're going to start doing your clinic hours?"

"Never," he grinned. "And you forgot to add 'in bed' to the end. So, your real fortune is 'Your infinite capacity for patience will be rewarded sooner or later in bed', which is totally true because I am one beer and a scotch away from letting you have your way with me."

Cuddy chucked and shook her head, "Be still my beating heart." She stood up and slowly made her way back to her desk. "Now that dinner is finished, we should be getting back to work."

"I'm not done yet. I haven't even cracked open my fortune cookie."

"Well, do it and get back to work. You've completed two charts since we started."

"Two's pretty good," House said defensively.

"Not when you have a stack of seventeen. Read your fortune and get back to work," she said resuming her study of the hospital budget.

"You're such a taskmaster," he said, pouting.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she replied without looking up.

House opened his cookie. The one you love is closer than you think. He glanced up at Cuddy, her beautiful face scrunched up as she concentrated on the hospital's numbers. He smiled and thought about what Bo had said to him earlier.

"She likes you, I can tell."

"You really think so?"

"Yes, just don't screw it up."

"I'll try not to."

"House, I know you opened that fortune cookie. Get back to work."

He smiled widely and replied in a fake Southern accent, "Yes, m'm." He popped the cookie into his mouth and found his way back his charts, briefly allowing himself to think 'What if?'.

Author's Note (Part Two): There it is! This is officially the longest chapter I've ever written, so I hope it makes up for the wait between updates. Now that I've updated, I promise to keep up with it better. Hopefully I can keep my promise since we're getting into the fall season and I am easily distracted by television (real television at least, the kind with a plot)-- so bear with me! I used the translator app on my Mac's dashboard, so if you know Chinese and it's wrong, please accept my apologies! Next time, House becomes suspicious of Wilson and his little friend, Cuddy and Jules have lunch.