"I'm abrasive. You got your scouring wrong."

"No. I don't think so." He walked in and sat opposite House and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands together. "I could be an ass and ask if you've called her."

"But?"

"But you have, so I won't." He leaned back, his smile still in place. "It could be good for you, you know."

"Right. Seeing her with power over someone else's life and death choices fills me with glee."

"You're the one who tossed her out after you woke up."

"For good reason."

"Being a stubborn bastard who refuses to admit he was wrong is a good reason?" James shook his head. "Greg, as much as you like to think you're right all the time, you're not. And, much to the dismay of everyone else around you, pretty much the only time you're wrong is when it comes to yourself."

"Is this where you remind me that she saved my life and that, had she not approved the surgery, I would be either debilitated by pain or walking around with a metal pole for a leg instead of the one up my ass?" He got to his feet, his knuckles white around his cane. "Or can this be where I remind you that I am in debilitating pain?"

"You wanted her to make that choice for you, Greg." He turned sharply, his eyes flashing. Wilson ignored him. "You knew it wasn't working. But admitting you were wrong would have been more painful to you than anything else."

"Perhaps you're forgetting the aftermath of all of this, James." House laced his name with venom. "I kicked her out of my life. I severed every fucking tie I had with her."

"I know."

"I loved her."

"You love her. You still have the ring you bought her hidden away somewhere." Wilson held House's gaze. "But you couldn't thank her, couldn't give her more power over you. Couldn't stand the thought of facing someone day after day and seeing the fact that you were wrong written on her face."

"I couldn't stand to see the pity in her eyes."

"She never would have pitied you." James got to his feet. "You're a bitter, miserable man because you kicked her out of your life. Were she still in it, none of us would have reason to pity you."

"Were she still in my life," House sneered, "she'd be off sleeping with someone else hoping that she could find someone capable of lasting more than five minutes without collapsing in pain. Were she still in my life, she'd be out of my life."

"Were she in your life, she'd be on top. Which really wouldn't have been much of a change, would it?"

House's cane slammed into Wilson's chest. "Get out."

"You misdiagnosed the leg, Greg, just like everyone else."

"Yeah, I live with that mistake every fucking day."

"Maybe you made a mistake with Stacy as well."

House lifted his chin, his eyes hard. "Goodnight, James."

"Hello, Lisa."

Cuddy looked up from her desk, her eyes widening. "Stacy." She gave a brief laugh. "Oh."

"Oh?"

"Something…nothing. Something just made sense." Cuddy stood and held out her hand. "How are you?"

Stacy walked forward and accepted her outstretched grip before sinking down into the chair opposite. "I'm…Let's start with an easier question, shall we?" She looked down at the floor. "How's Greg?"

"House is the easier question?" Cuddy sighed. "You know what? I'm done for the day. What do you say we go out and get a drink?"

"That would be…" Stacy paused, blinking back the sudden rush of tears that sparkled in her eyes. "That would be nice."

Cuddy gathered her things and stood, walking around her desk. Stacy stood as well, falling in step beside her. "Have you seen James?"

"No. Not yet. I figured Greg was bunkered up with him planning a strategy to destroy me."

"James wouldn't do that."

"Greg would." Stacy laughed softly. "My car's right outside." They walked in silence until they reached the Mercedes, the remote beep breaking the quiet. "My husband is dying."

Cuddy stopped mid-stride. "Oh."

Stacy managed a weak smile. "You're right. Let's wait for a drink."

"House?"

He didn't acknowledge the tentative question from his position on the floor.

"House."

"Is there some question as to my identity, Dr. Cameron, or are you just generating a façade of concern in order to come in here and interrupt me?"

"I was wondering if you were all right."

"And what will the answer cost me?"

She stopped, stung. "You had an emotional day…"

"One I brought on myself." He turned his head and met her gaze. "Or did you think perhaps someone else had prepared that particular lecture?"

"Obviously it was difficult for you…"

"You, Dr. Cameron, know nothing about what is and isn't difficult for me." He sat up and spun to face her, his legs stretched out in front of him. "The only thing you know about me is that I'm a bitter, sarcastic misanthropist who refuses to be coerced into telling you his feelings."

"Would you like me to admit that I was wrong? That I went about it all the wrong way?"

"Would you like me to acknowledge that you've been hurt before and you were only acting in a way to preserve your own self-esteem and dignity? Would you like me to give you a nice little pat on the head or on the ass and tell you to run along, all is well?"

"I want you to stop treating my like a pariah."

"Perhaps you should have thought of that before you placed a condition on rehiring you. Or, more to the point, perhaps you should have made that a condition of your rehiring. Better still, you should have just told me I had to fuck you to get you to come back to work so that you would have at least gotten something almost worthwhile for your trouble." He got to his feet, glaring at her to forestall any offer of assistance. "What do you want, Dr. Cameron?"

"I'm sorry."

"And what, pray tell, are you sorry for? For my leg? I assure you, you had nothing to do with that. I can't even blame you as the doctor who misdiagnosed it. For baring my soul for all to see in front of a host of snot-nosed doctor wannabes? Again, not your call. For putting us in a tenuous work situation by forcing me to act like we're going to the prom in order to get you to do your job? Is that what you're sorry for, Dr. Cameron?" He walked over to the bookcase and pulled a volume free. "Maybe you're sorry that I'm such an uncompassionate, unfeeling ass? Or maybe you're just sorry that you ever came in here?"

"You keep pushing people away…"

"Because I don't want them around." He set his book down on his desk then settled into his chair. "Go away, Cameron. Go to the oncology ward. I'm sure there's someone there who wants your particularly saccharine brand of sympathy."

"Did she leave you or did you make her go?" She walked over and sat down across from him. "Given our dinner as reference, I would assume you drove her away, but then it's possible that you weren't exactly like you are now when she was in your life." She crossed her legs, drawing her eyes to them. "Of course, if you were like you are now, I suppose it's just as feasible that she left you."

"I'm sorry, is this your version of an apology?"

"You've just informed me that I have nothing to be sorry for." Cameron shrugged. "Dr. Wilson told me to be careful with you on our date, you know."

"Dr. Wilson talks too much for his own good."

"What would you have said if I'd told you that I wanted you to sleep with me to get me to come back?"

"I'd have referred you to our human resources department and the very strict policy on sexual harassment." His mouth twitched with the threat of a smile. "And then I would have told you that I thought we might be able to get away with it if you didn't come back to work until afterwards."

"So the chance has passed us by?"

House laughed once, softly. "There never was a chance, Dr. Cameron." He got to his feet and went back to the bookcase, effectively dismissing her. "Not a chance in hell."

"When did you get married?"

"Two years after I left."

"Oh."

Stacy laughed softly. "Nice try."

"What?" Cuddy took a sip of her wine, lowering her eyes from Stacy's gaze.

"I can hear the disapproval, you know. Or maybe I feel it, so I assume it's there even when it isn't. It doesn't seem like a long time, does it? Two years to get over Gregory House."

"You said you got married. You didn't say you got over House."

Stacy laughed in earnest this time. "I know I'm back in Greg's crowd when it comes down to semantics. But you're right. I didn't say I got over Greg, did I?" She took a sip of her own wine and bowed her head, her hair shielding her from Cuddy's eyes. "Greg's not the sort of person you get over. Get past, maybe." She took another slow sip. "I do love him. He's so different from Greg, but then who isn't?"

"So you got married."

"And things were fine. Moving on with my life and our life together. He started getting sick earlier this year. Symptoms of various diseases but the tests all showed nothing. Pain with negative CTs and MRIs. Ultrasounds were negative. Urine tests showed nothing, blood tests showed nothing. He was poked and prodded and I sat beside him in the hospital, holding his hand."

"And experiencing a certain sense of déjà vu?"

Stacy pushed her wine away and sighed. "Yeah. Something like that." She looked around the room, anywhere but at Cuddy. "So I contacted James and asked for his advice. The best doctors around. Anyone who could help us."

"And he mentioned House."

"No. He very pointedly did not mention Greg. Which made sense given that he seems to have neglected to tell Greg that I got married."

"Do you blame him?"

Stacy sighed and exhaled loudly. "No. But I was sort of hoping."

"So you tried everyone else."

"And he keeps getting worse. And all I can think about is the fact that three days made all the difference with Greg, but time kept moving and I just couldn't bring myself…" She reached for her wine again and drained the glass. "Greg's not the most forgiving of men."

"No. Forgiveness isn't his strong suit." Cuddy signaled the waitress. "So what finally brought you here?"

"There wasn't anyone else. And everyone we talked to, everyone who saw him told us there was only one man who had a chance in hell of saving him."

"House."

"So, here I am. Here we are. As effectively at Greg's mercy as he was at mine." Stacy waited impatiently as the waitress refilled her glass. "The largest problem being that he's not likely to show any."

"He's agreed to see him?"

"No doubt for a price." Stacy finished her wine in one long drink. "There was a message on my phone that he'll see him tomorrow morning."

"And you're here telling me all of this because you hope I have some measure of ability to keep Greg in line?"

"I'm here because I don't have anyone else to turn to. James is a friend, but when it comes down to it, he's loyal to Greg without question."

"And my loyalty?"

"My husband isn't exactly…aware yet the Greg and I were involved. I thought it best not to tell him that this Greg happens to be the Greg until I knew for sure that he'd help us."

"You really are hoping that I'll keep Greg in line, aren't you?" Cuddy shook her head. "I have difficulty getting him to do his job in the clinic for people he doesn't know or care about, and you think that I have the ability to control him when it comes to you?"

"I know you two…"

Cuddy straightened. "I see. You're hoping that simply because House and I managed to fall into bed a few times, I can make him play nice?" Cuddy shook her head. "My job back then was to save his life. I violated a host of ethical laws in order to do that. What happened to your relationship as a result of the choices that you and I made is not my concern."

"Though it certainly helped you bed him."

"Don't assume that you know anything about my relationship with House on any level, professional or otherwise."

"You've as much as told me you have no control over him professionally." Stacy looked down at the ring on her finger. "It must have bothered you to know that he was thinking of me even when he was fucking you."

"Thank you for the drink, Stacy." Cuddy got to her feet. "I'll walk back to the hospital."

"You know, it's rare for a female to be the administrator of a major hospital. Pity you can't even control your most headstrong doctor without lying on your back…or that you can't even control him by lying on your back."

"You really don't know him as well as you think you do," Cuddy hissed through clenched teeth. "Greg likes his women on top."

House walked down the quiet corridors of the hospital, the synthetic tip of his cane making a soft, hollow sound on the floor. The lights were out in most of the rooms, the haunting echo of various machines accompanying him on his walk. He slid his key card through the slot and walked into the darkened room, the tympanic echo of hollow acoustics giving the softly silent whisper of the door closing a melancholic air. He closed his eyes and inhaled the taste of chlorine then made his way to the dressing room.

He sank into the water a few moments later, letting the overheated mass of it swallow him whole. He resurfaced slowly and blew out a breath before pushing off with his feet and stretching his arms in a series of strong, powerful strokes that propelled him across the pool.

He lifted his head at the end and hung on to the edge, closing his eyes and tilted his head back until the water covered his ears, giving everything an ethereal quality. Exhaling, he pulled his head free from the water and turned, several more laps consuming him before he paused again at the edge.

"We need to talk."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm off duty, I'm off the clock and I'm treading water." He didn't glance up beyond Cuddy's nylon encased ankles and inappropriately high heels. "Go away."

"I'm just curious as to how long after it happened you decided to inform Stacy that you'd managed to move on far enough to fuck the doctor that saved your life. Or did you phrase it a little less indelicately and just blurt out that you fucked your boss?"

House rubbed water from his face with one hand. "So the outrage is only because I told someone?"

"My outrage is that I was blindsided by a visit from your ex-girlfriend..."

"That makes two of us."

"And over the pleasantries of drinks she implied I must not be a very good lay if I can't keep you in line by having you between my thighs."

"Wow. She's gotten vicious." House pulled himself up, deliberately sending a shower of water raining down on Cuddy's leather pumps.

She didn't even notice as she squatted down beside him. "Your personal life is just that; however, I will not be humiliated…"

"You have no reason to be humiliated. As drunken first times go, it was pretty top notch."

"I should have let you kill yourself, you know that? Let you waste away while the muscle just rotted you from the inside out. Anything has to be better than the incomplete state of your decay."

"I'm helping her. I thought you'd all be pleased. I'm playing nice." He slipped off the edge and sank back down into the water. Cuddy stared down at him, her eyes hard. "What?"

Her voice was whisper soft. "I put up with a lot from you, Greg."

He looked away from her gaze down at the reflecting water. "I know."

"I won't have my career reduced to a decent lay when you were too drunk to care who it was you were fucking." She reached out and brushed a wayward clump of hair off his forehead. "And I won't continue to be punished for saving your life."

"Lisa…"

"And you owe me a hundred bucks for the shoes."

James opened the door and leaned on the jamb, closing his eyes and sighing softly. "It's late."

"I've gotten to the point where I've forgotten how to be nice to people." Stacy pursed her lips, attempting to hold back tears. "I just insulted Lisa."

"And now you're here to see if you can do the same to me?" He moved back from the doorway and waved her inside. "What happened with Cuddy?"

"I implied that Greg ran roughshod over her."

"He runs roughshod over everyone."

"I'm implied that she let him so that he'd sleep with her."

"I'll make a note to buy you a copy of How to Win Friends and Influence People for Christmas." He walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, holding it up in offering. She shook her head and he opened it for himself. "I know this isn't easy for you, Stacy."

"It might have been easier if you'd actually mentioned to Greg that I was married."

"I didn't want to have to deal with the fallout. At least this way, he has someone else to hate and a puzzle to solve all in one." He took a swig and set the bottle on the counter before hoisting himself up. The cool tile against his bare legs sent a shiver of goose bumps across his skin. Stacy stared at his legs for a long moment before reaching for his beer and taking a drink. "He'll do whatever he has to in order to solve the puzzle, to save his life."

"I know. If I didn't know that, I wouldn't be here." She offered him the bottle and watched him drink. "Greg's reputation is far more important to him than any sense of revenge. Of course, Greg's a twisted bastard and just as likely to find the cure and tell me about it, but refuse to do anything more."

"He wouldn't let someone die just to spite you. You weren't that important to him."

"Ouch. Thanks, I think."

"House lives for the challenge. Maybe that's because it's all he has to live for, but it's his life now."

"Is he seeing anyone? Besides Lisa?"

"He 'saw' Cuddy, as you put it, exactly twice. Ever since then they've been colleagues and co-workers and nothing more. As for anyone else," Wilson shrugged. "I'm not going to offer you up ammunition to use against him."

"So there is someone."

"He won't let there be someone. Whether that's because he's still in love with you or because you nearly destroyed him, I can't say." He finished his beer and tossed the bottle into the recycling bin. "He'll save your husband's life, Stacy. Do your best not to let him destroy anyone else's life in the process."