After officially reporting the incident to the police, squad cars lined the streets in Cuddy's neighborhood while they canvassed the area searching for clues identifying the perpetrator. Despite no signs of forcible entry and nothing taken from her home, the very idea of someone else being in there was unsettling to say the least. As a precautionary measure Princeton PD suggested they beef up security at PPTH while authorities underwent further investigation into the case.

House and Cuddy arrived at the hospital around eleven o'clock that morning and were completely oblivious to the hospital staff gossiping about them. Eyes followed and heads turned as they walked side by side through the clinic area and into her office. Most wondered about what might be happening behind those closed doors but all wondered about the true nature of their relationship thanks to the news House's team and Wilson broke. Wilson gave the distinct notion that House was planning to propose to Cuddy that morning.

"Cuddy, I propose," House was on one knee, "that you remain here while I go to Clinic." He finished tying his shoelace. "I think it's best that we remain close to each other without arousing any suspicion."

"And I propose that you stay here with me, especially with a psycho on the loose."

"Hmm…we'd probably arouse more suspicion your way. Might as well hang a 'If This Office is a' Rockin', Don't Come a' Knockin' sign outside your door."

"But your way would arouse even more suspicion."

"How so?"

"Since when do you actually do clinic hours?"

House smirked. "Nice try Cuddy. You almost got me there. I seem to remember this morning you wanted to continue our bet. So, I'm going to play it safe and leave while I still can." He kissed her sweetly. "If you need me, you know where to find me."

"That'd be a first."

"Hardy har har." House kissed her once more before exiting her office.

In Exam Room One patient Charles Deluna was waiting desperately to be seen by a doctor—any doctor that can stomach being in the presence of him. He was uncouth and had a bowl haircut and kind of looked like Moe from The Three Stooges, if you didn't take into account his oily skin and bevy of acne pockmarks. He sat on the exam room table in his brown, baggy, double-pleated dress pants that puckered up below his waist. Sweat-stained circles increased their diameter underneath his arms while he tugged anxiously at the top of his bright red turtleneck.

House arrived at the Clinic and resumed business as usual. He removed the file out of the plastic pocket mounted on the wall next to the door and entered the room but was immediately slapped in the face by an offensive odor. "Holy Mackerel!" He slammed the door shut and made sure he was on the other side of it.

The patient sighed and stared blankly at the door.

House braced himself and took in a deep breath before walking back in again. "What can I do for you?" He said shielding his hand over his nose.

The patient spoke in a boring monotone as House tried to focus holding his breath and not passing out. He nodded his head and maneuvered over to the supply cabinet, grabbed a surgical mask and put it on. "I'm listening," He blubbered in between breaths. His watery eyes darted across the room as the foul smell permeated throughout the tiny room and through his mask.

The patient scratched the side of his head with his long, dirty nails. A small hill of dandruff formed at his shoulder. "I just don't get it doc. It seems like everyone…"

"I'm sorry," House choked out cutting him off and holding up his hand. "This isn't working." He held his breath one more time before leaving the room.

Again, Charles was alone, pathetic and confused—something that he has felt all his life.

Then House came back sans mask with two dollops of vapor rub underneath his nose. He coughed as he inched his way back in the room and motioned with his hand for the patient to continue. "Go on."

"As I was saying…I just don't get it doc."

House's nose began to twitch and his eyes rapidly blinked S.O.S in Morse code. The walls felt like they were closing in on him and he felt his heart pounding harder in his chest. He couldn't take it anymore and had to leave. "Ahem. Would you excuse me for another moment?" He abruptly left the room again and tossed a couple of Vicodin in his mouth.

Fifteen minutes later he returned donned in a full Hazmat suit complete with breathing apparatus. He inhaled deeply and exaggerated a sigh as he entered the room. "Ah! Much better. Okay now, where were we?"

Charles bit his lip then uttered, "I just don't get it, doc. My parents have essentially disowned me, co-workers turn their heads away and nobody wants to sit near me on the bus. I haven't had a steady date in forever."

"So? Go find yourself a shrink."

"That's exactly what my shrink told me. Go find yourself another shrink. Then he suddenly closed his private practice of twenty-four years after one and a half sessions with me and moved somewhere on the west coast." The patient disgustingly chewed the fingernails on his right hand favoring the middle finger best. "There's got to be something wrong with me. Everyone avoids me like I have the plague."

House pretended to read his chart. "You do."

"I do? I do what? Have the plague?"

"No. You do seem to be rather annoying and boring. Have you ever considered that?"

"Impossible."

"Yes, and arrogant." He mocked. "Do you want to really know why you don't have any close friends or can't score with the chicks? A, it could be because you lack personality, appeal and a sense of smell. Or B, it might be the fact that you have TMAU—Trimethylaminuria also known as Fish Odor Syndrome. Your body has trouble breaking down and digesting some of the things you're eating. Are you familiar with Deadliest Catch?"

The patient shook his head no.

"Every time you sweat, breath or urinate you reek of low-tide, like rotting fish. People don't want to go near you because they know they'll gag. I've known you for five minutes and can tell you that your problem is C, all of the above."

Chase suddenly burst into the room. "House." His face contorted. "Pew! What in God's name is that smell?" He and the rest of the team plugged their noses.

"House we really need you back on the case," Foreman insisted swinging the door open and shut, trying to circulate the air. But it was of no use, of course.

"Begging won't get you anywhere. But bribery might."

Foreman continued, "House the patient…"

"Sorry. Can't leave clinic."

"Since when do you care about doing your clinic hours?"

"Since Cuddy threatened to tradeoff hours for lashes as punishment. And I've racked up a ridiculous amount of hours." House mischievously smiled. "Although, Cuddy and a whip would be…"

"Can we at least continue this conversation outside?" Thirteen pleaded.

House pointed at the patient. "Not until I'm done with Charlie the Tuna here."

"It's Deluna," Charles corrected him.

"Not today it isn't." He signed off on his chart and handed the patient literature on dietary restrictions for his condition. "There's plenty of fish out there in the sea. Follow this strict regime and you might reel in some snappers."

"Thanks doc."

The team followed House and Charles out of the exam room. "Okay. Who's next?"

"House!" Taub whined gripping his shnoz and sounding even more nasally than usual. "The patient is getting worse. We've exhausted all of our options."

He ignored his team and grabbed another file from the nurse's clinic station. "I just love the smell of desperation in the afternoon, don't you?" Then he walked over to the waiting area where several others were seated. "Francine Robertson?" He called out.

Chase held Taub back. "Don't hold your breath. He's not going to budge."

"Yeah. He's already whipped." Thirteen said under her breath as they walked away.

A woman got up, clutched her abdomen tightly and nervously laughed staring at House in his Hazmat suit. "Suddenly, I'm feeling better." She along with everyone else sitting in the bank of chairs left terrified, everyone except three individuals.

"Hi, there. I'm Dr. House." He faked a polite smile and removed the suit's protective face shield then held it at his side and waved a hand in front of the woman's dazed face startling her. "Yo!"

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"What seems to be the problem?"

The woman spoke while her husband cooed at their newborn baby in his arms. "Hi. Elise Harris." She pulled House aside. "Well, I'm not sure how to put it but I think his breath smells like puss."

House wrinkled his forehead. "I'm sorry. It sounded like you said," he cleared his throat, "and I quote, his breath smells like puss."

"Did I stutter?" Her eye squinted slightly.

"Tic Tacs and Massengil. You'll find those down at the pharmacy."

She read his ID badge clipped to outside of his bright orange suit. "Doctor Hourani. This is serious!"

"Alright. Come right this way." He led them to Exam Room Two with mask in tow as a precautionary measure. No need to experience any more sensory overload, he thought.

Elise paced the room, worried. "I want to say this started about a couple of days ago. Every time I put it in front of his face, he cries."

"Uh-huh." He tried to hold back a smile. "And how often would you say is that?"

"Right now, I'd say about ten. Sometimes twelve times a day."

"And you think he's the one with the problem?" He shook his head and grabbed a tongue depressor approaching her husband. "Okay, let me have a look. Say Ah."

"No. Not him." She swatted his hand away and held out her son. "Him. Why did you think I meant my husband?"

"Because you said...So," he stressed the last vowel, "almost three months old already? And you haven't broached the subject about the birds and the bees yet?"

"Huh? Birds. Bees. You think he has the Bird Flu? Or is allergic to bees stings?"

"No. No nothing at all, like that." House shook his head and slapped on a latex glove. "I think we're getting our signals crossed. I think and I'm hoping what you meant to say earlier was that your son's breath smells like pus."

"Pus? Yes. Pus! Oh my God! I'm so embarrassed. Now I see why you thought…" She blushed crimson red and divulged, "Since Anthony arrived in our lives we haven't had any time to be intimate."

"Yeah, she's been having a hard time lately balancing marriage and motherhood." Her husband annoyingly remarked. "Her sex drive is completely gone."

"David. I'm sorry if you're…"

House tuned them out and stared off into the distance. "Pus." And then came the epiphany. "Pus!" He pulled out his phone and called Foreman to prep the OR for surgery then quickly examined the infant's mouth. White patches on the tongue and tonsils were present. He interrupted their argument. "Thrush. He screams simply because it's uncomfortable to eat. It should clear up on its own in a couple of weeks but I can prescribe something for him to dull the pain." Then he pulled Elise aside and whispered. "I would however, be more concerned about your marriage. You've claimed to not have any relations yet your husband's breath smells like the jocks of the men on Deadliest Catch. Do I have to spell it out for you? P-U-S-S…"

Elise's beady eyes focused back on her husband, David.

He shrugged his shoulders and glared back at her. "What?"

"Is that lipstick on your collar?"

"Honey. I can explain…"

House left the room busting a gut. "Ten. Sometimes twelve times a day." He handed the file back to Nurse Brenda. "That actually sounds like Cuddy and me."

"What's this about you and Cuddy?"

"Nothing."

Nurse Brenda snickered, "That's not what I heard," as he limped away to find his team.

House turned around. "What?"

"Nothing." She stated matter-of-factly.

There was definitely something else fishy going around the hospital, he thought.

House rapped his cane against the glass door of patient Jennifer Drake's room. "She has Lemierre's Syndrome—The Forgotten Disease."

Molly was at her daughter's side fiercely looking at House's team. "What's he doing here?"

"Lemierre's Syndrome?" They all said in unison.

House continued, "It is a very rare infectious disease—so rare that many doctors have never even heard about it, including my team. It usually develops after a severe strep throat creates pus pockets and bacteria near the tonsils. These abscesses contain Fusobacterium Necrophorum and can flourish, enter the bloodstream through the jugular vein, infecting the blood and traveling to other parts of the body." He held up Jennifer's most recent CAT SCAN and pointed to one side of the film. "Septic Emboli. It's in her lungs and has hitched a ride to her brain. This explains the sore throat, abdominal pain, increased swelling, neurological status…everything."

"Then do the test to confirm," her mother stubbornly insisted.

"No. We take her to the OR now and perform a left craniotomy." House handed her a clipboard. "Sign the consent form."

She was about to sign when Taub intervened. "It's a very risky procedure. There could be a chance of seizures, brain damage. She could even die."

"Taub," House spoke through gritted teeth, "Not helping."

Molly stood her ground. "The I'll sign it after the tests if it's still necessary."

"The blood culture won't be available until another three or four days. She doesn't have that kind of time."

She scanned the faces of House's team for an answer, specifically looking at Taub. He had more of a trustworthy face.

Taub bobbed his balding pate up and down. "All the symptoms do fit."

Jennifer tried to put on a brave face, but trembling hands and quivering lips couldn't fool anyone. She reached for her mother's hand and began crying. "Mom. I'm scared."

"Me too. I don't know what to do."

"You sign the consent form and keep your daughter alive."

Everyone turned around to see Cuddy in the room.

"I'm Dr. Cuddy, Dean of Medicine at this hospital and I'm sorry that you and House started off on the wrong foot. He tends to rub people the wrong way and likes to push boundaries and especially people's buttons. He can be…"

House coughed and craned his head toward the door, interrupting her. "Why don't we give them a minute?" The team followed him out while he slid the door shut to give them some privacy. "Cuddy's got my back."

"And your front," Chase uttered under her breath.

Less than five minutes later Cuddy appeared with the signed consent form.

House affectionately smiled at her and grabbed the paperwork from her hand. "Thanks. You're the best." Everyone stared at them as his hand lingered a bit too long. He broke out of his trance. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

His team quickly went back into Jennifer's room and wheeled her to the OR.

Cuddy turned to House. "Something weird is going on. Staff members have been dropping by my office congratulating me all day and some have even thanked me for making them a hundred dollars richer. What do you think it all means? You didn't tell anyone else about us, did you?"

"No, I swear."

The Drake Family graciously applauded House's efforts and thanked him for saving their daughter's life. Although still at the hospital in Recovery, she was finally responding well to treatment and showed no signs of impairment or further injury.

It had been a long surgical procedure and House was tired but anxious to go back to Cuddy's side. He trekked back to her office when Nurse Regina at the clinic station spotted him. "Patient in Exam Room Two is waiting for you. Says it's urgent. Says she'll only see you."

He rolled his eyes as his cell phone rang displaying a blocked phone number and avoided the call. "Great." He grabbed the file folder from her hand and walked in to the backside of a blond haired woman leaning over the exam table. She had two long mini-braids that intersected in the middle and a pair of hot pink panties poking out of the top of her low-rise jeans.

The young lady turned around with her phone to her ear, twirling her beaded necklace. "I was just calling you."

"Do I know you?"

"It's me." She playfully smiled. "Ali."

"Ali?"

"Stop playing games! Don't act like you don't know me."

"Of course! Ali! I treated you and your father. Rhinovirus."

She enveloped her arms around his neck and smiled brightly at him. "I've been thinking about you. About us."

He swallowed hard. "Me too."

"I was a bit crushed when you didn't call me after my eighteenth birthday, but we can make up for that time lost."

House escaped her clutches. "Yes. As a matter of fact, I think some alone time is in order."

"We can go to Fresno! You said we'll always have Fresno."

"No. Right now." House went to the door and winked. "I'm going to make sure that nobody disturbs us, if you know what I mean. Stay right here. I'll be right back."

He swiftly closed the door behind him and approached Nurse Regina again. "Call security. No wait call the police. Make sure that woman doesn't leave that room."

"Where are you going? What is this about?"

He ran over to Cuddy's office making sure she was protected and safe.

Hours later…

"If you've come back to return the rectal thermometer, you can keep it."

Detective Michael Tritter had a smug look on his face. "Hello, House."

"What do you want? You still trying to deliberately ruin my life?"

"I think you know what I'm here for."

House took out the bottle of Vicodin from his coat pocket, shook it, "I happen to have a legit prescription for these pal," and then audaciously dry swallowed a couple pills in front of him.

Tritter shifted his eyes toward Cuddy. "I'm sure you do. But that's not why I'm here."

"You're sick and your chances of living are next to none unless I help you?"

"You'd like that wouldn't you? Sorry. Can't get rid of me that easily." He stepped into Cuddy's office and placed a shoulder bag onto one of the chairs.

"What's that?"

"Evidence." He unzipped the bag and removed a worn-in black collarless leather jacket that had red and white stripes around the biceps, an RTAI Sports patch on the front and zippered pockets. "I believe this belongs to you."

"What did you do? Break into my apartment," he ripped it out of Tritter's hands, dug into the pockets and took out a bottle of Vicodin, "and plant evidence? Let me see the search warrant."

Tritter produced a piece of paper.

"This is not valid. That's not even my address."

"I know." He handed House a snapshot. "I believe you know this woman, a former patient of yours. We found your jacket at her place after questioning her. Despite my protests with the department I've been assigned to this case because of my familiarity with you and this hospital." He placed the photo of Ali back into his coat pocket. "A psych counsel diagnosed her with a manifestation of erotomanic and jealous type delusional disorders."

Cuddy felt ill. "Erotomania? She thought House was in love with her?"

"I know. It's preposterous, right? I mean what woman would want him."

She looked confused. "But don't these type of cases normally involve celebrities?"

House self-righteously piped up, "I am well-known in the world of medicine."

"And in the community. You were in the papers recently. Some big hospital event." Tritter pulled out a folded piece of newspaper from the inside of his breast suit pocket and pointed to a photo of House and Kobayashi—one of the major donors—shaking hands.

"The expansion of the PEDS wing," Cuddy affirmed.

House glanced at Cuddy. "See, this is why I never go to those stupid hospital functions."

"This article must have triggered an episode. It explains the phone calls, unwanted gifts and the latest vandalism at Dr. Cuddy's residence." Tritter changed his demeanor. "I don't want to scare you but we seized a hammer, a roll of duct tape and rope from the trunk of her car and found a barrel hidden in the backyard storage shed at her parents' house as well as three caseloads of sulfuric acid that were reported stolen last week from a pharmaceutical lab across town."

"Oh my God!" Cuddy turned to House and buried her face in his chest on the verge of tears. He held her tightly comforting her.

"We're not quite sure what Ali's intentions were but I think it's fairly obvious that she thought Dr. Cuddy posed some kind of threat with the evidence we found against her." Tritter gazed suspiciously at the two of them. "She wanted to literally dissolve whatever type of relationship you may or might have." Then he grabbed his duffle bag and made his way toward the door. "We'll be in touch. If you have any further questions, you know where to find me."

"Are you okay?" House held Cuddy's face in his hands catching her falling tears. "Why don't I take you hom…" He stopped himself and wrapped his arms around her, planting a kiss on the top of her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say…"

"I know." She pulled away from him. "Let's get out of here. I can use a change of scenery. Somewhere far away, okay?"

"Anywhere. You name it. I'll be there with you every step of the way."

She glanced at his bum leg and cracked a smile. "No you can't."

He shot back a wicked smile.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I just had a crazy thought. Why don't we go to Spain and France, like right now? I can call the airline and bump up our flight. Of course, if you don't want…"

"No. I think it's a great idea. The sooner the better."

"Yeah, the sooner the better." And then he kissed her longingly, only this time it felt different. Every part of his heart and soul had always yearned for her but this kiss was filled with promise and hope, unlike any other kiss shared between them.

House's eyes locked onto hers as he clasped her hand, smiling. "And so our journey begins."

The End

A/N: I know what you're thinking. You want more, yes? Everybody loves a good fic. So be prepared to look out for another tale filled with romance and adventure with these two in Europe. But first I'll need time to map out the story and as always, please review.