A/N: Well everyone, here we are - the end of the tale! I decided to post the epilogue in with this chapter instead of separately, I think it makes more sense for you to be able to read straight through.

Thank you all so much for your support and comments. I know it's been a slightly different ride to what you usually expect from me, but thank you for your faith and patience. I've been very glad to have you along with me on this journey. G

For the entire length of his relationship with Sarah, Cuddy had been a third passenger along for the ride, House realized. Whether that was literally – like when he'd called her name – or figuratively, she'd been there. Ever since the very beginning when Sarah had found him sitting on the bathroom floor, dealing with the loss of Hanna – except what he'd really been dealing with was the loss of Cuddy.

The loss of the idea he had of Cuddy. The idea of how his life might work out. In clinging to that fantasy, he'd destroyed an even better reality.

He'd pushed away the only person who really understood him. The only person who seemed prepared to accept that his life was destined to be a rollercoaster of occasional highs and devastating lows. The only person who'd been prepared to work with that, to suggest options, to believe he had the ability to be better. She didn't ask him to do better, she just knew he could. And she was prepared to take the long and exhausting journey with him as he struggled to find that out for himself.

She'd been prepared to put up with him. She'd already lived through life with an addict, so she knew what she was signing up for.

But he'd thrown her patience, her love, and her fragile trust, away when the ghost of Cuddy had tantalized him.

The real Sarah was worth a billion fantasy Cuddys.

Only how could he prove it to her?

"Oh Sarah," he sighed and rubbed at his shoulder again. "I really, really fucked this up."

Sarah just sniffed.

He knew that just telling her, simply protesting that he'd changed his mind would do nothing to convince her. There had to be a way to show her his true feelings, a way to get her to understand what had happened. He had a sudden flash of insight.

This was one conversation he had to get right.

"What did you want to be when you grew up?" he asked suddenly, dragging an ottoman over so he could sit in front of Sarah.

"Huh?" She looked puzzled by the change of subject. She reached for a tissue and blew her nose.

"When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?" House repeated. "And don't say a nurse. I've heard the Halloween costume story and I don't believe you."

Pink spots appeared on her cheeks. "What has this got to do with—"

"Just answer the question. And don't lie." He narrowed his eyes. "I'm good at knowing when people lie."

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, sucking in a deep breath.

"Tell me," he said.

"An actor, okay? I wanted to be an actor." Her voice was loud.

House nodded. He'd suspected as much. More pieces of the complex web that threaded between Sarah and Charlie fell into place. "Because you love movies."

"I love movies," she repeated, more quietly this time. "I wanted to study film. I did a few auditions when I was a teenager, but I didn't get very far. So I thought maybe I'd become a director instead."

"But then you studied nursing. Why?"

"Mom's health was deteriorating. Alcoholics get sick a lot. I just thought it would be useful if . . ." She trailed off.

"So you went off to study nursing, your mom died, and your sister got the career that you wanted, without even trying. Because she was beautiful."

Sarah's mouth open and then shut again. She just shrugged one shoulder in acknowledgement.

"If you could back and change things – if you could have Charlie's career and she had yours, would you?"

She sighed heavily. "This is pointless. It's just meaningless speculation . . ."

House played a card he'd been holding on to. He grabbed the arms of Sarah's chair, effectively trapping her, and lowered his voice to the commanding tone he'd used with her before – albeit in different circumstances. "Sarah, answer the question."

Sarah fidgeted in her chair and he wondered for a moment if she wasn't going to fall for it.

"No," she said quietly. "No, I wouldn't change it."

"Why not?"

"It hasn't been smooth sailing, and it didn't turn out the way I thought it might, but I think I've finally found where I belong. I love working at the centre. I work with a great group of people, the patients are really deserving of our care, and I get a thrill every time I get a new donor so we can offer a place to someone who can't afford it themselves. And . . . since I've been sick, did you know that the nurses have been taking it in turns to come and check on me? They've brought meals, and my meds, and company. It's been so lovely."

He nodded. He'd been getting daily updates from Margaret Simons, under the guise of being Sarah's concerned treating doctor. But he knew first-hand that Sarah had been getting excellent care and that her staff respected and admired her.

"So you love your work," he said. "But it took you a while to realize that – to stop being jealous of what Charlie has."

Sarah shifted uncomfortably. "It took a while. But I know now that I couldn't live the way she does, the travel, the publicity, no privacy."

"But that doesn't stop you dreaming about what might have been."

"No I guess not."

"And if Stephen Spielberg walked in here today and asked you to work for him – you'd do it, wouldn't you? Just to know what it was like."

She rolled her eyes again, clearly getting impatient with his game of let's pretend. "Yeah, I guess I would. Just to try it out."

House sat back on the ottoman. "Okay, now let me tell you about the little fantasy I had about my life."

"If you tell me you didn't want to be a doctor from the time you were in diapers, I won't believe you."

House managed a smile. "Maybe not diapers. And there was a time in my teens when I was pretty convinced I was going to be a rock star, but it's not about that."

"Then what?"

"I had this fantasy that one day I'd end up with Cuddy."

Sarah sucked in a breath – clearly that wasn't what she'd been expecting him to say. But House continued, conscious all the while of how critical his words were.

"It wasn't something I worked towards, or planned for, or even thought about consciously. It was just there, in the back of my mind. One day we'd be together. And then she took that away, she met someone else. And of course she could do that – she had every right to do that – because it wasn't like I'd let her know."

She squirmed. "Greg, you don't have to . . ."

"Yes, I do. I need you to understand. I had this idea of what was going to happen in my life, an idea that got shattered when she announced she was engaged."

"The day of the crane collapse," Sarah added.

He nodded. "Exactly. But . . . don't you see? It was just an idea, not reality. But when Cuddy offered me a chance that things might go that way, I'm ashamed to say that I wanted to take it. It was such an ingrained part of who I thought I was – I . . . I don't believe in crap like fate, but there was this thing that I thought I always wanted, but couldn't have, and suddenly it was dropped in my lap."

Sarah shook her head. "Admitting I'd work for Stephen Spielberg to fulfill a childhood dream is a little different to running off with another woman."

"I know. I know it's different." He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his wits. He needed to make this work. This was one metaphor that he couldn't allow to fail. When he opened his eyes he stared into her tired, confused hazel ones, willing her to see the truth.

"I don't love Cuddy. I never did – not in any meaningful sense. If I had loved her, I'd have wanted to be with her, not decided she could wait for me to be ready. I know now . . . I know that when you love someone, you want to be with them. You believe in them for who they are, not who they might be. You want to share their life, protect them, take care of them. Be with them for the good and the bad "

Sarah swallowed hard, and her gaze didn't waver. For the first time since he'd walked in, House began to feel that he just might win this.

"Like when you see a limo and bodyguards out the front, and know that the person you love is probably having a tough enough time without having to cope with her sister on top of all that."

She brushed over the admission in what he'd said. "Yeah, so you come upstairs and get in a fight, because that's so much easier to cope with."

"You can't tell me Charlie didn't enjoy that." House certainly had. Except for the kissing. That had been just plain creepy.

"I didn't enjoy that."

Right. Focus. "I want to take care of you. I want to be with you."

House could tell he was winning, her expression was softening. But she wasn't ready to give in just yet. "You said you couldn't guarantee what happened that night wouldn't happen again."

"I meant the Vicodin!"

Sarah shook her head and House had a moment of panic. She was right – how much better was it that he'd been talking about his raging addiction instead of his betrayal? What was he doing here? Why was he trying to convince this wonderful woman to accept him – an old, crippled misanthrope who was likely better off keeping company with his own miserable self?

Because he couldn't live without her.

"I don't deserve you. I know that. But you are my first and only choice, Sarah Hardiman. I'm sorry it took me so long to work that out."

"First and only?" Tears welled in her eyes.

"I promise. I love you." He took her hand in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "That is, if you still want to be bothered with me. I'm kind of a handful."

She managed a laugh that was half a sob, but her eyes, shiny with tears, also glowed with happiness. House felt something click inside him, a homecoming, a peace, a sense that for too long he'd chased after what he thought he wanted, while right here, in front of him, was what he'd needed all along.

"I think I can handle you," she said quietly.

"Good. Because I'd like you to start handling me right now."

She screwed up her nose. "You do like to push it, don't you?"

"Always," he promised. Then he dropped his voice. "But for now I'm giving the orders. I know you like it when I do that."

Sarah gave him a regretful look. "Greg, I'm sorry, I don't think I can right now. I'm just so—"

"Bed. Now," he ordered.

"Greg, seriously – I'm exhausted."

"What, you want me to carry you? I am a cripple, but I can probably—" He bent down to hitch her knees over his arm.

"No!" Sarah protested. "Don't, I can do it."

House could see the struggle on her face as she levered herself out of the chair and began to walk to the bedroom. He wrapped an arm around her waist to support her, cursing silently that he couldn't sweep her into his arms in a classic Clarke Gable maneuver.

It took only a few moments to strip off her sweat pants and socks, find the nightgown she'd tucked behind the pillow and help her take off her sweatshirt and bra. He couldn't deny the effect her naked breasts had on him, but there were other, more important things to think about for the moment.

Once the nightgown was slipped over her head, Sarah laid back on the pillows and pulled the quilt up with a sweet sigh.

"What do you feel like?" House asked, sitting on the bed beside her.

"Honestly?" She arched an eyebrow. He nodded for her to go on. "A glass of water and about ten hours' sleep."

"Done." The glass of water was simple. When he returned to the bedroom, he stripped off his own clothing down to boxers, then climbed into bed. Once he had Sarah settled into the crook of his neck, her body pressed against the length of his, he finally felt able to breathe again.

He'd come so close to losing this.

Sarah rubbed her cheek on his shoulder. "I don't sleep well when you're not beside me," she said quietly.

"So is that all I am to you? A sleep aid?" he asked, joking – but there was a thread of uncertainty there. He could hear it, and he knew Sarah could.

"If I needed a sleep aid, I'd have you write me a script for Ambien. You like writing me scripts – remember?"

He grimaced as he recalled the memory. He'd really been an ass to her. And yet she'd come back for more. It was a positive sign.

But not quite enough.

"No more scripts when conversations are required," he promised.

"I like the sound of that."

"Does that go for you, too?" he asked.

"Huh?" Sarah lifted her head from his shoulder so she could meet his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I pretty much bared my soul out there in the living room – but as of yet there hasn't been any reciprocation. Are you going to write me a note?"

Sarah's lips parted in horror as she realized what he was saying. "I didn't say it?"

"Nope."

"But you already know. I said it before."

"Yeah, you did. But a guy's ego can only take so much before—"

"I love you!" Sarah found some energy from somewhere, because in a moment she was straddled over his body, feathering kisses all over his face. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

"Whoa, slow down Fangio."

House put his hands to Sarah's face, pushing back her hair. Her eyes were more golden than green right now, glowing with happiness. The sight was both rewarding and terrifying. His stomach twisted.

"What?" Sarah asked.

"I'm going to make you unhappy," he said. "I won't mean to, but there will be times when I will."

Sarah gave him that patient, serene look he'd seen before. "I know. I love you. I'm okay with it." She grinned. "And besides, if it really does get too much, I can always ask my sister to come visit with us for a while."

House groaned. "Yeah that will be punishment for sure."

"Actually," Sarah said, reconsidering, "I think that might backfire. You two love arguing with each other so much, the person who'll really suffer is me."

"As long as she doesn't kiss me again." House didn't have to try too hard to fake the shudder that wracked him.

Sarah frowned. "Seriously?"

"Are you kidding?"

"But . . ."

He saw the genuine puzzlement on her face, confusion that someone would really, truly not want to get up close and personal with the glamazon that was Charlotte Hardiman. The butterflies in his stomach settled as another realization flooded through him. He wasn't just bringing Sarah into the ups and downs, the highs and lows of his life. She was bringing him into hers, too.

"You know what?" he said. "I don't think I'm the only one with issues."

Sarah's frown slowly became a smile. "No, I don't think you are."

"Should make life interesting."

She cocked her head to one side. "Would you want it any other way?"

"Nope. I wouldn't. C'mere woman." House flipped over, pushing Sarah onto her back. He snuggled into her side, swiped the hair back from her face and resettled the quilt over them.

"Now go to sleep," he ordered.

"Go to sleep?"

"I could spank you," he warned

Her eyes lit up and she gave him a shy smile. "Raincheck?"

"Definitely." He leaned over and kissed both her eyelids closed. "Now sleep."

.

Epilogue

The gardens around Mayfield were stunning, almost overwhelming in their lush greens and florals. The beautiful spring weather New Jersey had been enjoying the past few weeks had certainly helped – everything that could flower was in bloom, scenting the air with fresh, rich perfume. Even the trees seemed to have polished their leaves in order to soak up the sun after a long, cold winter.

Sarah strolled over the grass, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her shoulders and the quiet peacefulness of the grounds around her. She tried her best to let it distract her from the heavy, gloomy building behind her. And what might be happening inside. She didn't want to think about that.

And yet she was here.

A pair of dragonflies spun in the air above her, making her smile.

She swallowed hard. Tears were close to the surface. If this didn't work, if they couldn't help . . .

She wasn't sure what made her turn, but something tugged in her chest and she spun around. The sun blinded her for a moment, and she raised a hand to shield her eyes. The shadows congealed and she made out the shape emerging from the door of the oppressive building, coming down the stairs towards her.

Sucking in a deep breath, she walked purposefully. No sense putting this off. It had to be faced.

They met where the shadow of the institution cut a sharp line into the grass. She stopped before it, wanting to stay in the sunshine, as if that would mitigate the news she was about to hear.

There was silence for a moment. She stared down at the lawn, watching a couple of ants labor their way over a fallen leaf.

"What did he say?" she asked eventually.

A long sigh.

The news wasn't going to be good. Sarah braced herself.

"He said it's going to take time."

Sarah nodded. She swallowed noisily around the lump in her throat.

"Sez, you had to expect that."

Of course she expected that. "I just don't know if . . ." She trailed off, not sure if she wanted to say the words aloud.

"If she can do it," he finished for her.

Sarah finally raised her eyes and met his blue ones. Concerned. Frustrated. Slightly haunted. It has cost a lot for him to come back here with her. But he'd done it. For her.

"Is she going to stay?"

"Nolan says he can keep her for two more days, but after that if she wants to leave, she can."

"Did she listen to you?" Sarah asked.

Greg sighed. He walked across the dark line and into the sun, joining her on her side of light. A sparkle came from the gold ring on his left hand, and a corresponding leap of joy lit Sarah's heart, despite the heaviness that weighed on it right now.

They walked side-by-side across the grass in silence for a moment.

"I talked to her. She didn't want to see me, at first." He glanced across to Sarah. "She blames me for her being here. Says I put ideas in your head."

Sarah shrugged. "I did my research. We both know this is one of the best places. It might not be filled with celebrities like the other places she's tried, but it might actually work."

His mouth compressed in a thin line, but he didn't argue like he had before when she'd said such things. She knew he was being deliberately careful. He understood how much Sarah wanted her sister to get well – to beat her addictions – but he also knew the reality of her chances of success. He'd been trying to walk the line between hopeful and realistic all week – ever since Miles had turned up on their doorstep with a wild-eyed, frantic and paranoid Charlie in one hand and his resignation in the other.

"She did listen, eventually," he said. "Well, that is, I talked and she stayed silent. I'm not sure if that counts as listening. But I think she understands the gravity of the situation. Bringing her here, instead of sending her to one of those Californian spas, has at least got her attention. I doubt Charlie has had to share a bathroom for a very long time," he added with a chuckle.

The thought made Sarah smile sadly. She hated to think of her sister suffering. But if they didn't take drastic action, who knew what the future held?

"Did she . . . Did she tell you she was going to stay?"

He paused and Sarah knew he was framing his reply. She'd noticed he was doing that more often these days – pausing to think before he spoke. Maybe the great Doctor House was capable of change, after all.

"No Sarah, she didn't say she was going to stay," he said softly. He took her hand and gave it a squeeze, interlacing her fingers with his. "But then when I was where she is now, I wasn't going to stay, either."

"But you did."

"Yes, I did. And Nolan is a wily old bastard. If anyone can find a way to work the system, or to work Sarah's ego to her own benefit, he can."

Sarah looked up with a smile. "Is that what he did to you?"

"What, use my own ego against me?" He put a hand to his chest, as if shocked by the question. "An ego? Moi?"

Sarah laughed.

He tugged on her hand and began leading them back across the grass towards the parking lot where their car waited.

"Miles won't resign if we can get Charlie straight," Sarah said confidently.

"And even if he does, there's a hundred agents in line waiting to take her on. A public breakdown like that guarantees she's tabloid fodder for at least the next year."

Sarah shuddered at the thought.

They reached the car park and Greg leaned against the side of their shiny new Audi. A purchase he'd made just before he'd asked her to marry him. He turned to face her, arms open. "Come here."

Sarah gratefully stepped into his embrace, leaning her head against his shoulder as his arms went around her. The comfort of his body pressed against her front, the warmth of the sun beat down on her back. Charlie was safe – for a couple of days, at least. Sarah let the tension flow from her body and let out a long breath.

"Thank you for coming back here with me, for helping me with this," she said softly. She honestly didn't know how she would have managed without him.

"Welcome," he said simply.

She knew expressions of thanks and professions of love just embarrassed him, but she was doing her best to change that.

"I love you," she said. She nuzzled his chest, breathing in his warm smell of spice and strength.

His arms tightened around her. "I love you too."

Sarah wanted to stay right where she was until the sun sank below the horizon and darkness and chill forced them to move. And even then she wasn't sure she'd be ready. But she forced herself to push away, smiling up at him, sending a prayer of thanks to whatever force it had been that had compelled her to investigate the open door in her apartment building that day, to walk inside, to find a stricken man and help him to his feet.

She smiled at this man, a man who had made her his number one and worked every day to prove it to her. He didn't always succeed, but his intentions were honest and they had found their own balance, their own kind of centre, that had seen them through the inevitable ups and downs. "I guess we should head home."

"Guess we should." He pushed himself off the car and headed around to the driver's door.

"I can come back tomorrow by myself," Sarah offered, although she didn't want to. She climbed into the car and buckled her seatbelt.

He shook his head. "No visitors, Sarah. Charlie needs to learn to do this by herself. She can't do that with you there."

"Oh." Sarah froze. She hadn't thought about that. She felt guilty about the relief that went through her body.

The car started with a low purr, and Greg concentrated on reversing out before speaking again. "I have no doubt that if Charlie does stay, at some point Nolan will want you to start coming to therapy sessions," he said, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. "It's probably not a bad idea for you to talk about the past anyway."

There was a casual tone to his voice that made Sarah suspicious. She wondered just what the conversation between Greg and Doctor Nolan had covered. She figured she could make a pretty good guess that her own issues had come up more than once.

It was something to think about another time.

"So what are we going to do this weekend?" Sarah said, changing the subject. The car pulled out of Mayfield's long drive and turned on to the highway back towards Princeton. Sarah felt the burden on her shoulders shifting with every mile. "I'd figured we'd be driving back and forward from here, so didn't make any plans."

A wicked grin curved across his features. "Remember when we went to see Jane Austen in space?"

"Huh?"

"You know, Charlie's Razzie-winning role. The premiere in New York."

"Oh, yeah. I'd almost forgotten about that." It was a movie best left forgotten.

"Remember what we did afterwards?"

Sarah certainly did. Unlike the movie, that little adventure was still sharp in her memory. "You want to go to a sex shop?" she asked.

"No. Well . . ." He frowned. "Not unless you've cleaned out the middle closet?"

"Huh?" Since she'd moved in, Sarah had been progressively cleaning out the apartment. Greg House wasn't quite a hoarder, but he certainly did form emotional attachments to all sort of flotsam and jetsam. It had got to the point of "clean up or move". Unsurprisingly, Greg had not wanted to move. "No, I haven't got that far yet. I'm still working on the kitchen."

"Good."

"Why?"

"I bought some stuff that night. It got shoved in the closet."

"Oh." Sarah dug up the memory. Greg handing a credit card to the clerk, receiving a bulging black plastic bag in return. "I thought you bought that stupid penis desk toy for Wilson."

She'd met the oncologist now. He was nice. She didn't entirely trust him, and wasn't sure why, but he was fun company.

"No, I didn't buy that piece of crap."

"So what did you buy?"

He glanced away from the road to waggle his eyebrows at her. "You'll just have to wait and see!" he crowed gleefully.

Sarah laughed as the heat rushed to her cheeks. She loved the fact that her husband made her blush. That the idea of making love to him – and of the kinky games that they played every now and then – made her body rush with heat and moisture.

"I can hardly wait," she said truthfully.

He took her hand in his and raised it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her palm without taking his eyes of the road. "Me either."

.

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The End.