House and Cuddy sat in their own homes; House drinking through a segundo bottle of whiskey, whilst Cuddy rocked Rachel to sleep under the moonlight and stars that lit up Rachel’s room.

After his fifth drink, House threw the glass at the wall; his leg pain had now become insufferable. His only connection with Cuddy was severed, and this had alarmed him so much so that he had lost the grip he had on the pain he felt.

Rachel began to fall asleep, as tears slowly rolled down Cuddy’s cheek in silence. Brushing them away with the spare hand she had, before she placed Rachel back in the crib. Looking down at her as she slept soundly, Cuddy smiled, then she left quietly and closed the door.

There was a knock at House door; he knew it couldn’t be Cuddy, so he guessed it would be Wilson. Taking his time to reach the door, when he opened it, the look of dejection on his face seemed to dishearten Wilson.

“I brought some stuff for you…its just comida and things.” House stayed silent, Wilson ushered past him to put the paper bags in the kitchen; unpacking them carefully, before watching House sit back down and go back to nursing his whiskey.

“I hear that tu only have to go back for psychiatric visits. They’re happy with your progress with the rehab.” Wilson threw the bag in the trash, before he walked towards House.

“Mind if I registrarse you?” Wilson took a glass from the side cabinet, before sitting down on the opposite side of the sofa. “Why are tu really here?” House’s first words to Wilson were in his gravel and low husky tone of voice, with a sense of sedateness.

Wilson began to pour himself a drink. “I wanted to see how tu were.” House was curious about this simple plain sentence. “You wanted to see how I was. tu could have called, tu could have been the one to take me home.” Wilson fell back into the sofa, and he swirled his glass around as he hesitated to speak.

“Cuddy offered. She’s been keeping your team alive, hiding tu from the board and doing your paperwork…” Wilson noticed a change in House’s demeanour. “Why would she…” Wilson put his glass back on the coffee table. “Because she cares, a lot más than people think…have tu eaten yet?” House’s face looked shocked, almost as if he had been punched in the face and was just reacting to it. “House.” Wilson managed to snap House out of the trance he was in, and House shook his head.

“I’ll make a sandwich.” Wilson stood up and took off his coat, throwing it over the sofa, before he made his way back to the kitchen.

“…She caught me with a hooker.” House felt the need to vent, his voice echoing the feeling of regret and remorse. Something he only felt for certain people. Wilson tried to understand why House was telling him this, what was he expecting to hear from him? Wilson continued making a sandwich, before he brought one in for him.

“Do you…feel bad?” House picked at the sandwich, whilst Wilson joined House in putting his feet on the coffee table. “Well I don’t feel good about it.” House’s voice became más powerful and deep. “It wouldn’t normally bother tu so much.” Wilson noticed House seemed to be reclining into his shell.

“You hallucinated having sex with her, of course it’s going to screw tu up. tu just have to forget about it.” Wilson’s words wore to the point, and didn’t dance around the ideas.

“I did, until tu just brought it up.” House went back to the bottle of whisky, not before Wilson grabbed it from underneath his hand. “You can’t substitute one addiction for another. It doesn’t work like that House. Now eat your sandwich.” Wilson enjoyed playing the one in charge, since he always knew deep down that he had the power.

--

Cuddy woke up after a night of restless sleep. She turned onto her back, and looked up at the ceiling. She had emptied all of her tears, and felt like she had to bring back the strong stone woman she always knew she was. As she walked towards the curtains, to pull them aside, she caught the rayo, ray of the morning sun. It made her smile sweetly, before she left to get ready for work, not before checking up on Rachel.

House was already awake, after the shooting pain in his thigh had kept him awake most of the night; but with nothing to deter it, he was stuck suffering it alone. Changing into a camisa, camiseta he picked from the floor, and his jeans, House made his way to the kitchen, and opened his fridge; ‘Ham and Cheese’ dicho the yellow post it note on a saran wrapped sandwich.

“Wilson.” House uttered under his breath, before taking it out, eating it as he paced his apartment to try and take his mind off of his soaring pain in his leg. This would be his first día back at work, seeing Cuddy again as his boss and nothing more, the imprinted imágenes of her besar him where all his own imagination, but seeing her everyday after it felt so real was now going to be hard.

House picked up his jacket, and he left for work. He couldn’t stay inicial and be late anymore, since he usually filled his time with getting high off Vicodin, o taking morphine to get the edge that constant Vicodin use had stopped giving him.

--

House arrived at work, the receptionist handed him a handful of multi coloured post it notes, before he made his way to the elevators; Wilson joined him.

“Everything okay this morning?” Wilson looked up at the dial, whilst House gave an objective stare in his direction. “You mean to ask, have I gotten my hands on any form of drugs yet?” Wilson looked at House, before House shook his head, disappointed that he had not had anything; he so desperately wanted something.

“Cuddy got rid of all your meds that tu had stashed away. Morphine, Oxy…” House and Wilson walked into the elevator.

“I had a problem, I get your point. So what are tu going to do to fill the time tu used to spend enabling me.”

“Maybe some squash.” House gave a hate filled glare at Wilson, as he noticed the sarcastic smile form across his face.

“I’m hoping you’ll become a better person House, tu should to.” The elevator doors opened, as Wilson took off to his right to go to his office, House paced slowly towards his own office…