***this is a short first chapter, in response to last week's episode. Not sure if it's worth continuing. Please let me know. Would love to explore further. *******

The phone rang again, this time House silenced it, before tossing it across the room. He leaned his head back on the sofa and shut his eyes.

"Cuddy again?" Wilson asked.

Besides him House remained silent, his eyes shut, his face relaxed.

"You're not going to pick up are you?" He turned and briefly faced his friend.

"Nope." House answered as the phone started ringing again, this time he got up and limped across the living room, and down the hallway towards his room.

Wilson heard the door shutting quietly as he went across the room to pick up his friend's phone. He flipped the phone open and placed it to his ear, "Cuddy," he said, "its Wilson."

He paused to listen for a while, "No, he's not available." He shook his head. "No, no he doesn't want to talk." Another brief pause, then "I don't want to talk either. Lisa he's my friend, my best friend…and…listen, I better go." He stopped and listened to her pleading, "I'm going to go," he repeated softly before folding up the phone.

He walked down the hallway and knocked on his friend's door; slowly he cracked it and walked inside. House lay on his back, his hands folded on his stomach his eyes open. "Hey, I brought your phone" he said placing it besides the bed on the night stand. "I don't think she'll call again."

House smiled, "thanks "he said.

"Hey," Wilson continued pushing his hands in his pants pocket, "I'm sorry, I had no idea. You know I would have told you."

"Well, I would fucking hope so." House replied, turning to face his friend.

Wilson sat on the edge of the bed "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nope." House turned his eyes towards the ceiling again.

"Are you going to be okay?" Wilson asked

"Yup." House replied. He inhaled deeply and shut his eyes.

Wilson waited a minute or so, then pushed himself up off the bed and headed out the door.

House lay quietly with his eyes closed. He was in terrible pain. Everything hurt, his leg a dull ache, his head from keeping it together all day, his eyes from being opened too long , his heart from losing Cuddy, his whole entire insides from losing Cuddy. His everything, from losing Cuddy.

He reached for the phone and dialed. It rang a few times and then she picked up, "House?" She was nervous, panicked, "House is that you?"

"Yup" he answered.

She sighed, he could picture her running her hand through her thick curls and his heart hurt even more. "House, I'm sorry. I don't know what to say. I meant to tell you about Lucas, but I didn't want to be so…presumptuous in thinking that….I don't know…I should have told you."

He stayed silent, she could hear him breathing.

"At breakfast," she continued, "He shouldn't have…I should have never discussed…Greg I breached our confidence and I apologize, I was wrong, I never once thought he would bring that up and…."

"Cuddy," he cut her off "please don't ever discuss anything about me with Lucas again."

"Of course, of course I won't." He thought he could hear her voice breaking. "House, I'm sorry, I…"

"Goodnight Cuddy" he said and hung up the phone. He lay back down and shut his eyes.

It would be hard to get through this. Maybe harder than giving up vicodin even. Cuddy had been with him for so long. She was always in the background; he had never even considered the possibility of her not being there. It was always him in his mind. Him who had to get his shit together, him who had to decide. Not her, she was always waiting, wanting, hoping. A constant in his life.

Now she was gone. The flirting, the sexual innuendos that little nudge in the bottom of his heart that kept him smiling at work. The driving force that kept him pushing at Mayfield. The hope that kept him going in life. The hope that one day, he would change enough to face his feelings, to face his fears and let her into his heart.

"shit" he mumbeled rubbing a hand over his closely cropped hair. How could she have told Lucas everything ? Everything ? He didn't even want to think about this morning, the breakfast, Lucas' idiotic ranting, humiliating and embarrassing him. Crushing him, "she was your savior" he had said. How could Cuddy tell him all that? How could she think that and tell someone? Tell Lucas?

He closed his eyes and rolled over onto his side. He needed to be calm, and think about controlling his pain without numbing it. The vicodin days were over. The Cuddy days were over.

******please sound off and let me know if this is worth continuing. Love those reviews !*************************