Saturday, 16th December

[doctorhouse-md.livejournal.com]

During the week:

"You know this is ridiculous, right?"

House looked up at Wilson from his desk. "Your tie? Couldn't agree more."

Wilson fixed him with an even look. "Cuddy. And you being stubborn enough to not do anything you two."

"Believe me, if it was about 'stubborn', she'd have come hurtling in here like a battle axe ages ago, doing her typical Cuddy thing," House retorted.

"You taken a look at yourself lately?" Wilson exclaimed. "You're miserable."

"According to you, that's my default," House countered. He looked away, though, and stared off towards the glass door that led out to the balcony. Even though it was late afternoon and heading past twilight, the snow covering everything outside made everything illuminate with a soft, white glow.

"Do something," Wilson continued, exasperated. "Stop being the proverbial ostrich with your head in the sand. Do something. Put this right. Make it up to her. Prove to her that you love her."

House snapped his attention back to Wilson. "Think I hadn't been trying to do that?" he snapped.

"Yes, but you're... you," Wilson replied, throwing a hand out towards House. "You do you things, which always results in insulting people, or hurting their feelings, or coming across as little more than an inconsiderate ass. You can't do that with women. You have to reassure them from time to time. Treat them like their feelings matter, even if it drives you insane. Listen to them."

"I did listen," House shot back, feeling prickly and defensive and wishing like hell Wilson would just get out of his face. "I told you how that went down. What good is listening even more going to do? Just so I can hear the same crap over again?"

"She said what she said for a reason, House," Wilson said. "Not because she wanted to spite you, not because she's out to hurt you. If you would just look beyond your own damn misery and think about someone else's feelings for once..."

House looked away again.

"Do you love her?" Wilson asked after a short, silent pause.

"What kind of stupid question is that?" he muttered.

"Then talk to her. She owed you an explanation and she's given that to you. So, what are you going to do about that? Give up?"

House sighed and reluctantly met Wilson's gaze again.

"Talk to her, House. You owe her that much. And if it doesn't work out, then..." Wilson swept his hands out to motion washing his hands clean. "But you have to at least try. Talk to her."


*

It was snowing lightly when House stepped out of his apartment. He adjusted his red scarf around his neck and tugged his thick overcoat tighter around him once he shut the door, a white cloud of steam billowing out of his mouth with every breath he exhaled. Carefully, he made his way down the steps and gave a thin-lipped, insincere smile to a couple passing by the sidewalk. He fumbled for his car key, his fingers already feeling like they were being bitten off with frost even though he'd only just come out from the warmth of his home, and unlocked his car. Clutching his coat firmly around him, he climbed in and shut the door, giving a little shudder at how god damn cold tonight was. Inside his car was like an icebox.

He switched the engine on and left it running for a few minutes to warm up. He stared out through the frosty windshield while he waited. He was wondering if maybe he was a little insane even bothering to try and talk to Cuddy. Or try to put things right with her. Or... He didn't know. All he did know was it had been over a month since he last spoke to her properly, apart from the unavoidable encounters at work which were always agonising to endure, and as much as he really did think things were over between them, he couldn't let it go. He couldn't let her go. Maybe going to her place would put things right. Or maybe it would offer closure. He didn't want closure, though. Closure was never what he wanted. But if this wasn't going to work between them, then closure was better than nothing.

He sighed and rubbed his face. Getting himself out to the car had taken close to an hour because he'd fretted and debated and argued with himself over and over, trying to work up the guts to leave. He hadn't even got to Cuddy's place yet and already his stomach was churning with butterflies. Before he could lose his nerve all over again, he shifted the car into gear and pulled away from the curb.

He rolled up outside her house about fifteen minutes later. Killing the engine, he just sat for a moment and stared out through the window at the front door. It was lit and a Christmas wreath was hanging on the door. Apart from that, everything looked the same. Light glowed from two of the downstairs windows - Cuddy was home. Probably close to getting ready for bed, he thought to himself as he looked down at his watch. Almost 9PM. He returned his attention to her place and watched it for another few minutes, then opened the door and climbed out. A few snowflakes caught in his hair and peppered over his shoulders as he headed up the garden path, and when he reached the front door he just stared at it.

This was like deja vu. He remembered the last time he'd come to Cuddy's place like this, how horrible that had been, how hard it had been. That was situation he'd hoped to never see a repeat of... and here he was. He could hear muffled sounds of the TV playing inside and he rubbed his hand over his chin as he considered just turning around and leaving. But - no. He was here. He needed to do this. They needed to do this.

With a deep breath, he knocked on the door.