No One Really Wins
Disclaimer: 'House, M.D.' belongs to David Shore and FOX. No infringement intended.
Summary: It's getting too hard to hold up the world all by herself. (House, Wilson, Cuddy)
Spoilers: 3x9 'Finding Judas'.
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You hurt her.
She's hurting me. (She knows I didn't mean it.)
This isn't a joke.

He pauses because he doesn't know what to say. Then, "Good. We're even."

She was crying, Wilson snaps.

This is not what he wants (expects) to hear. He starts to limp faster, but the laser point of pain expands too quickly. Fingers clasp onto the edge of the nurse's station as his (good) leg quivers—

(It's not supposed to do that please don't let it be another infarction oh God it hurts so much please let Wilson be lying)

—and he watches her drink from her (his) red mug in her office.

Stop looking so worried, Jimmy. I'm fine. I just tripped.
(Liar, Wilson does not accuse. The floor is dry. Your shoelaces are double-knotted.)

---

He shoves a (red) cup wrapped in paper stolen from Wilson's office into her unsuspecting hands.

You bought me a birthday gift?
It's not everyday that you have a bicentennial, Cuddles. Although in your case—
Shut up, House, she says but she's smiling too widely for it to mean anything. You're ruining the moment.

She's beautiful, he thinks, but looks away before she notices him noticing.

---

What are you doing in my house?
Is that any way to treat a guest?
I didn't invite you. (Get out!)
Careful, Cuddy. You might make me cry.

He waits for a (non-)reaction (please, please, please let him have lied).

Wilson has a big mouth, she sighs.
You're the one who let him into our secret club.

"I only told him because—"

(Because you hurt me! she practically screams.
I didn't mean it, he almost begs. You know I didn't mean it, Cuddy!)

"It doesn't matter anymore," she finishes.

(It matters, he wants to shout, but he walks out the door without another word.)

---

You have to fix this, Wilson whispers.
It was just hormones. (I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it, I didn't—) She'll get over it.
Even you can't really believe that.
She doesn't even care what I think.
You're not that dense, House.
If you care that much, Dr. Phil, then you apologize!
Just tell her that you're sorry, Wilson pleads.
I'll have Cameron get on that right away.

"House, she'll forgive you."

(Did she tell you that?)

"I'm not interested in redemption," he replies instead.

(He can't apologize if he didn't do anything wrong and he didn't do anything wrong because he didn't hurt her.)

You're an idiot, Wilson finally says, walking away in disgust.

---

You hit Chase, she accuses with a tired sigh.

(It's getting too hard to hold the world up all by herself.)

I keep telling those damn kids to stop running in the halls, he insists. You never know when they'll trip and bump into someone's fist.
You have to apologize to him. I don't care if you mean it, House.
What's the point if I don't mean it?
It'll make him feel better. I know that doesn't matter to you—

(It matters, he wants to shout, but he keeps his mouth shut.)

—but it'll make a difference to him.
If I do it, do I get out of clinic duty?
You get an extra three hours for hitting him in the first place, she says with a smirk.

(It almost feels like the way it used to be.)

Fine! You win, he says (a little too easily).

"No one really wins with you," she replies.

(Cuddy, I'm sorry, he can't say. I didn't mean it.)

---

What do you want, House? I already gave you your pills.
(Forget the damn pills!)

"We have to talk."
"I'm tired. Go home."

(I can't deal with you anymore, she means.)
(Wilson lied. She won't forgive him.)

---

Wilson stops making his peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich to peer at him.

What did you do now, House?
I make people better.
That's generally what doctors do.

He squeezes his (good) thigh.

"I think I broke her."

---

He is already in her office, drinking coffee from her (his) red cup when she arrives at 6am.

You could've told me about the miscarriage.
Wilson needs to shut up, she says.

She hangs her coat and scarf on the rack and motions for him to get out of her chair. He sits there and watches her.

Why didn't you tell me?
It's done. It doesn't matter.

"It matters!" he shouts.

Her (his) red cup slams onto the oak desk. A crack starts to form around the base. He leaves before it splits completely. He doesn't want to be around when it breaks.

---

He does four months worth of billings so he'll have an excuse to drop by her office so late. His leg hurts like hell and the stack nearly falls from his hands as he gets off the elevator. He puts the peace offering on her already-cluttered desk before dropping into her nearest chair.

My leg hurts.
Should I call a press conference?
It's not the one that should hurt.

She puts down her pen to look at his (good) leg. He shuffles under the scrutiny.

We need to get a PET scan of—
Forget it.

He waves off her concern and takes a deep breath.

You just said—
I know what I said. (I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it, I swear!)
If your leg hurts, we need to—
I'm sorry, he says in one breath. I didn't mean it.

Silence. Then finally, "I know."

I thought you'd just…I didn't think it would mean anything.
It doesn't, she shrugs (lies).

"I don't know how to make it better."
"Maybe you can't."

---

She drinks coffee from a (red) mug that has a shaky line of glue and a strip of white tape running along the bottom of it. She hardly ever notices that the cup leaks anymore because her hand molds so perfectly around it. Nurse Brenda offers to get rid of it for her one morning.

"No. It'll hold up for a little longer."