A/N: It's been so long since I started this story, I honestly forgot how it was supposed to end. And then I got interested in other fandoms/pairings, and life got in the way, and this story has been weighing on my mind the whole time. So here it is: a conclusion. Definitely not the one I intended, and there were more chapters to write in between this and the last one, but I had to face the truth that I was never going to find the inspiration to write them. Possibly one day I will and then I'll add them as missing scenes, but I wouldn't count on it. In the meantime, I'm going to consider this complete and move on. Thank you to everyone who stuck with it, and especially those who reviewed or favorited. I hope you enjoy the final chapter.

Chase and Foreman think they're so clever and observant, but in all the years since Allison began working for you, they're still no wiser to the fact that she's your wife. You don't know whether you should feel proud or shamed at being able to keep your marriage a secret for so long.

They're none the wiser, despite the fact that she's seen you through a shooting incident, hallucinations and temporary memory loss, a brief detox from Vicodin, an arrest, a motorcycle crash and a host of other stupid things you've done over the years. You still have no idea how she puts up with you.

The truth is, you're tired of hiding your marriage, and now that Allison has moved to the ER, you're ready to stop pretending she means nothing more to you than any other (former) employee. You've been sitting at your desk, thinking of the most dramatic and shocking way to reveal the truth, when life itself steals your thunder.

"Hey," Wilson says, rushing into your office breathlessly. "It's Allison. You need to get down to the ER now. A patient went crazy and pulled a knife…"

You're already halfway out the door before he finishes. When you arrive in the ER, you find absolute chaos. Equipment and medical supplies are strewn everywhere and nurses are trying to soothe frightened patients. One guy, the perp you assume, is being dragged out in cuffs by security.

All you care about is Allison as your eyes scan the mess, but what you find is Chase and Foreman leaning over a gurney and shouting instructions. You move to the other side and there she is, pale as a sheet save for the large contusion forming along her temple. She's also bleeding profusely from her abdomen, despite the pressure Chase is applying to the wound. But she's alive and awake to your great relief.

Her gaze finds you and she murmurs your name as you drop your cane and take her hand. "I'm right here," you say, swallowing down your fear. "I'm here."

"House, what the hell are you doing? I've got to get her to surgery," Chase says, looking at you like you've gone even more insane than usual.

"Don't go," Allison croaks out, and you squeeze her hand and tell her you're not going anywhere, pausing long enough to glare at Chase. And then Wilson is placing your cane beside her on the gurney as he helps wheel her to the OR, kicking things out of the path along the way.

Once they've got her in the elevator, Chase asks you if you're planning to scrub in, and you're about to say yes, when Wilson interrupts.

"He can't," he says, looking worried and exasperated at the same time.

"Like hell I can't. I should be in there," you protest. "You heard her. She wants me in there."

"We don't have time for this," Chase says, guiding the gurney out into the hall and toward the OR,and he's so commanding in that moment, that you actually feel a smidgen of relief that Allison is in his care. "Whatever the hell's going on with you two is irrelevant. Foreman will assist. You can wait out here."

You can feel the panic building as her hand slips from yours, but then she looks at you and murmurs, "I'll be okay, House. See you soon," and then she gives you a wobbly smile that doesn't do much to assuage your worry.

"I love you," you tell her, and then Foreman is giving you a sharp look before wheeling her through the doors where you can't follow. Seconds later, Wilson is handing you your cane and guiding you toward the observation room.

mdmdmdmdmdmd

As it turns out, she is right, as usual. She's okay. The knife missed anything vital that couldn't be repaired, and though her vision is blurry from the head wound, that too will right itself in time.

It takes some convincing to make Foreman believe she isn't suffering any other neurological damage when she tells him she is married to you. You find it pretty amusing actually, now that she's out of the woods. It's especially funny to see the look on his face, and Chase's for that matter, whenever you're in her room with her, sharing food and watching soaps and holding her hand, or sleeping on the chair beside her each night.

You can't really blame them for their disbelief. Sometimes even you can't believe that she married you, that she could love you so much. That all those years ago your hedonistic tendencies led you to this strong, intelligent, amazing, beautiful woman you would be content to spend the rest of your life with.

And it all began on a Saturday night.