Epilogue AftM

She woke up with somebody's arm resting on her thigh and when she remembered whose it was she smirked. She turned round careful not to wake him and indulged in the pleasure of watching him sleep. He was on his stomach, his face tilted towards her and snoring lightly.

What a weird thing to wake up next to him. She had dreamed of it many times. And now here she was, in her bed, and so was he. Yet she could never have imagined the circumstances which were to bring them together. She studied the lines on his face, thinking of all he'd been through in the past months. Heck, all he'd been through most of his life. She didn't want to turn him into a martyr, but she couldn't deny he hadn't had the easiest life. Flashes of last night came back to her. The scar was horrendous, deep ridges of thick skin colliding into another. It felt rough and cold and hard and yet so fragile and exposed, and –in its own gnarled way– beautiful. She was thinking how very symbolic of House's character the scar was when she heard Rachel wake up on the baby monitor. Taking one last look at him she swiftly got out of bed and headed to her daughter's room.

House woke up a mere minutes later and instantly realised the presence he had been feeling by his side all night was now gone. He sat up and sank back down again as he remembered where he was and what had happened last night. He smiled and moved to the edge of the bed. As he pushed himself up he suddenly felt dizzy and had to sit down again. He cursed himself for leaving his cane in the hall. The pain was always worse in the morning. Plus he had skipped a meal and the night hadn't truly been restful. He smiled as some vivid details came to his mind. He wanted to be back by her side as soon as possible. He massaged his leg and got up, still slightly light-headed, heading for the bathroom. He peed, and, and as he went to wash his hands, he saw on the shelf above the sink a stick of lip make-up exactly similar to the one he had been hallucinating about and had turned out to be in fact a vial of Vicodin. The symbol of his hallucination. He picked it up and stared at it. Suddenly he was invaded by a thousand random images and sounds – scenes with or without Cuddy, in the hospital or in Mayfield. Then he saw Amber, and Kutner, and Wilson, and his mom and dad– the images were flashes, churning, turning, faster and faster. His head was swimming. He groped the sink for support. The voices were now inhumanly high-pitched screams. His skull seemed to split open in a tremendous headache, he felt a clammy perspiration all over his body, while from the scar shot flames of pain whose electric charge he could actually feel go up to his brain and back down through the nerves to every single cell of his body. He started shaking violently and, finally, in a spasm of incredible violence, he threw up.

Hunched over the sink, gasping for air, House came to. Barely aware of what he was doing, he wiped the vomit from his mouth with the back of his hand and sat on the edge of the tub. He was panting heavily and his heart was beating so fast it was almost deafening. His whole body was drenched in sweat. It took him several minutes to recover but the flashes and screams had now gone, taking away the splitting migraine. He tried not to panic. What was that? What had just happened? Was it just seeing the lipstick or was there a physiological cause? "What's wrong with me? "For a moment he really had thought this was it, curtain call, he was dying. Actually, the pain was so complete and unbearable he had wanted to die. He shivered as the perspiration cooled off. Slowly, painfully, he got up from the edge of the tub. He was left with a horrible taste in his mouth and a sink full of sick. He numbly rinsed it away, brushed his teeth and –his head still dizzy– stepped in the shower. The hot water brought him back to life and he stood there for a while, both his brain and body still numb from the fit. When he walked back to the bedroom his eyes fell on the vial of ibuprofen. Was that the cause? Was he reacting to the ibuprofene? But he had been taking it for some time now and ibuprofene was unlikely to have such side effects. Sure, his sugar was low because he had skipped dinner last night but surely that wouldn't cause an attack of flashbacks resulting in his stomach emptying itself? Was it a bug? No known bug could trigger something like that. So what was going on? Was his brain frying up? And what did it mean about him and Cuddy? Was it a physical reaction to being with her? Could he never be happy? Should he just walk out now, before both of them got hurt? He sank back on the bed and was both angry and on the verge of tears. Was he ever going to get out of this?

No. No he wasn't going to give up that easily. He wasn't going to read into what had happened anymore than what it was: a spell of dizziness triggered by a vivid memory and worsened by a weak blood-sugar level and a queasy stomach. Or maybe the ultimate stage of Vicodin detox. Or maybe something terrible and lethal -he laughed at the irony. He wanted this. He wanted to wake up and hear Cuddy feed her baby downstairs. He had felt dizzy and rightly so: the distance he had covered in the last months was vertiginous. She was there for him: she had proved it last night. He wanted her. He couldn't be happy without her. Heck, he couldn't survive without her. He shook himself together, got up, got dressed and made it downstairs.

He walked into the kitchen where Cuddy, after having made sure her daughter had had enough toast and banana, was now enjoying her own breakfast, sipping at a cup of tea and browsing through the newspaper. The toddler clapped and cheered when House came in. Cuddy turned around and instantly House saw the worry in her eyes. But he knew it wasn't pity.

"Greg, you okay?" She got up and went to him, placing her arm under his own, as if he was about to fall. "You look so pale, are you okay?" there was almost panic in her voice. Thank god she hadn't been there when he threw up.

"I'm fine, I just repainted your bathroom in a lovely shade of puke." Her face twisted in a revolted mimic, which was what he wanted. Deflect, always. "You might want to change house. Literally" he added, as an after-thought.

But she didn't pick up on that, too worried that he had been sick. "What happened?"

"Lisa, how much detail do you want? I got up, peed, and threw up. It was yellow and lumpy. I swear it had carrot chunks in it although it's weeks since I last ate carrots–

"Ok, ok, spare me those details, please!"

They sat down at the table. Should he tell her about the lipstick, the voices, the dizziness? What purpose would it serve, apart from making her worry? But wasn't she entitled to know?

"Maybe you were just weak. Maybe you got a stomach bug. It's been around a lot recently." She was frantic for an explanation.

"Yes " he agreed, knowing very well it was more than that. He decided never to tell her how scared he had been half-an-hour ago. "I was probably just dizzy from not having anything to eat last night. Plus, all that mind-blowing sex last night." He smiled at her, reassuringly. "I'm sure it's nothing." He took her hand in his.

But she didn't smile. "Are you sure? Don't lie to me." She paused, realizing that wasn't a very nice thing to say. She looked into his eyes. "I mean, you're not hiding anything from me, are you? Unwanted side-effects? Hallucinations? Bouts of dizziness? Doubts?"

"No. No I'm not having doubts. Honestly." He squeezed her hands and reached for her lips. She chose to believe him.

Instantly she melted into him, wrapping him up in her arms. How he loved it when she did that."Ok, sorry. I'm sorry I doubted you." House felt a pang of remorse at not telling her. He loved her so much he couldn't bear to cause her worry. He held her close.

"Slept ok?" she asked him.

"Like a baby– speaking of which, why is yours staring at me right now?"

They turned around towards Rachel and sure enough, there she was, mouth open, a piece of soggy toast in her hand, staring at them.

Cuddy laughed, rather uneasy. "I don't know...You know, she's not used to men. Your voice is probably fascinating to her."

"As is the realisation that you're not just her mother but also a woman and a lover."

"Yes, and that" said Cuddy, not really believing that a baby could work out such things.

"They see everything you know. They're so creepy" added House, still staring at Rachel staring at him.

"What? No!" erupted Cuddy, offended. She playfully slapped his arm. "She's not creepy, she's cute. She's just getting to know you."

"By staring. Which, by the way, is very much like you." He turned his attention back to Cuddy. "I can hear you staring at me, even while I'm asleep."

Cuddy giggled "I did not stare at you. Well, ok, maybe just a little." They kissed. "Can you blame me? Now about some breakfast Mr "I'm skinny and I skip meals"? What would you like?" She got up.

"Well I'm not exactly feeling hungry right now but I guess I should eat something" he mumbled." It's ok, you enjoy your breakfast, I can get my own." But Cuddy refused, arguing he was obviously not well. "Cuddy, I mean it. I'm fine. Enjoy what little time for yourself you've got. I can pour myself a cup of coffee." He got up and she sat back down again, turning in her seat and not letting him out of her sight until she was sure he was steady on his feet. She knew it was important she didn't treat him like a cripple or a child. He moved swiftly from cupboard to shelf to fridge, never once hesitating in the location of the items he was looking for.

"How do you know my kitchen so well?" She was astonished.

House just laughed and shrugged. "I've got good observation skills."

"Talk about creepy."

She shrugged and turned back in her seat redirecting her attention to Rachel who had stopped gaping and was now conscientiously mashing up the last bits of banana on her plate into lumps, before proceeding to rub it in her hair. "Oh, sweetie, don't do that. Come on, Rachel, you were all nice and clean... Banana is food, food is not for play." She lifted the infant out of the chair, wiped the banana and toast off her face, kissed the tip of her sticky nose, and settled back down in her chair with Rachel in her lap. House sat at the table with a mug of black coffee and a stack of toast layered with peanut butter and jelly. "This should get my GI up again."

Rachel resumed staring at him. "Stop staring, didn't anyone tell you it was rude?" House pretended he was annoyed, but really Cuddy could tell he thought it was quite funny.

"Well, you two haven't been properly introduced." She picked the child up and turned her around so that mother and daughter were looking at each other."Rachel, this is Greg. He is a bit cranky, and yes, he's a man" She pretended to pull a face" but we like him." She smiled at House. "Greg, this is Rachel, she doesn't do much except eat, poop and cry but she's very cute."

House nodded, busy with his breakfast. This baby thing was making him a bit uneasy. So, was he a family now? He pretended to be interested in the newspaper.

Cuddy sensed his uneasiness and didn't say anything for a while. Polishing off her own breakfast with a squirming baby on her lap was already getting most of her attention. Finally she said: "I'd better go get ready, the sitter will be there any minute and I'm already late."

House looked up "I was gonna say! Did you get sloppy in my absence?"

She smiled at his deflecting. There was a short silence and then she asked "Are you coming with me to the hospital?"

"Oh– uh, no– I'm not starting up work again.

Cuddy looked somewhat disappointed.

"Not just yet. I don't feel like I'm ready. I've got stuff to work on."

"I understand."

"I'm not sure I want to work there again."

"Oh."

"And it would make things easier for us! No employee/employer nasty business." He was trying to convince her that his not coming back to Princeton would be a good thing.

She was silent. "But you are going to pick up medicine at some point?"

"Yes, at some point. I think. I don't know, Lisa." She could hear the frustration in his voice.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be intrusive. I understand you don't feel ready. It's just, I'm not sure you ought to quit being a doctor. It's who you are."

"I'm not quitting. Being a doctor is all I can do! Don't worry, honestly. It's the least of my problems right now."

She raised an interrogative eyebrow at him. He hadn't meant to let her hear that. He didn't want to mention the incident in the bathroom. "I mean, you know, shrink sessions and pain management. And maybe seeing my mom."

She smiled. "That sounds like a plan. I'm sorry. You're a grown-up, you can make your own choices, I wasn't trying to pry you open. I was just worried. But I see I don't need to, you know what you're doing." He nodded and she leaned over to kiss him over Rachel's head.

"Right, I'd better go get ready. Can you look after Rachel, if I put her in her play pen? Luna should be here anytime now."

"You place your child in the care of a person called 'Luna'?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Sure I can look after her, probably better than that Luna person can, too."

"Don't get in too deep here, I might take your word for it. Inside this cute baby girl is a right little devil!" Cuddy tickled Rachel, who erupted in a peal of laughter. House had to admit she was cute. Cuddy caught that instant on his face. "She is, isn't she?"

"Huh?" House looked back at her.

"Cute" she said with a victorious smile as she got up and placed Rachel in her nearby play pen. She walked back towards the stairs and, upon passing him, said: "And so are you!", swiftly bending down to kiss him on the top of his head. He attempted to drag her down on his lap but she escaped, giggling and running towards the stairs. Soon he heard cupboards and drawers open and close. Then he heard the shower. He knew Cuddy was putting on her sexy power suit. And that he'd be walking out with her at his arms in a few minutes, immensely proud of her looks. And yet he had found her more desirable even at breakfast, in her pyjamas and without any make-up. He smiled. He really had her under his skin. He finished his toast, cleared his things away and went to sit in the living room next to Rachel's play pen. She looked at him and handed him a rubber giraffe. "Why a giraffe? Are you trying to say something?" In House's mind everything made sense, nothing was coincidental, and so he had asked Rachel. But maybe it wasn't so for a child. He realised how refreshing that could be.