Spoilers/Timeline: "Three Stories"
Author's Note: This is my first attempt at House/Cuddy fic. Actually, it's my first attempt at writing House speaking. So if you feel that it doesn't work or whatever, let me know and give me pointers on how to fix it. I love constructive criticism!
Dedication: Merry Christmas, Allie!

Summary: Some days, the guilt seemed almost too much for her. And that was his wild card.

Some days, the guilt seemed almost too much for her. It was like being trapped underwater, unable to breathe, watching your own life fade before your very eyes.

She knew that she shouldn't blame herself--it wasn't her decision, after all--but she still did. She blamed herself for his disability, for his overwhelming grumpiness, for his addiction.

Intellectually she knew that Stacy had made the decision, not her. She had simply shown an alternative to his self-prescribed stubborn method. As he had slipped into the chemical-induced coma, Stacy looked to her and asked her to go against his wishes.

She had no choice.

She was sure that he blamed her for what had become of his life--he had told her so several times in a heated argument. It was his wild card, the one that would get her to fold and allow him to make off with the winnings.

She folded every time. She sometimes wondered if he took pleasure in making her feel like shit. She certainly took no pleasure in his disability.

As she listened to him recount the story of his own undoing, she bowed her head and allowed the guilt to wash over her once more.

As he walked past, his story ended, she didn't know if she would be able to face him again for a while. Trapped in her own misery, she almost missed the sympathetic glance he threw over his shoulder as he continued down the hall.

For the first time, she wondered if he pitied her instead of hating her.

She sighed in annoyance, absently shuffling through papers that needed her attention.

A knock on her door interrupted her shuffling, and she looked up. There, behind the glass, he stood, waiting for her to invite him in. He never waited to be invited in. He barely ever knocked, so with worry in her heart she motioned for him to enter.

He came in slowly, his cane banging lightly against the door frame. She winced, but only slightly, and she hoped he did not notice it.

"I've decided to take on the case." He did not mention who the person was, because there was no need to. Stacy had come to her earlier in the day, tearfully begging her to convince her former lover to take on her husband's case. She had smiled slightly at Stacy and said that she would do her best, but she made no promises.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" He gave her a scornful look and said nothing. She should have known; even if he wasn't going to be okay with it, he would still do it because it was fascinating. That was his only reason for doing anything these days.

She wondered if he only bickered with her because her reactions were fascinating. She decided she didn't really want to think about it.

"I wanted to talk to you about something else." His voice was serious, as was his face, and she had a feeling this was not going to be a good conversation.

"Yes?" She picked up a pen and began to idly finger it, needing the slight distraction.

He hobbled to her desk and stood before her, gazing down. She had to admit, she was slightly intimidated, and she wondered if he wanted something of her.

"I forgive you." She blinked and stared at him for a second, trying to understand the situation.

"What?"

He smiled slightly, being more serious than she had ever seen him. "It wasn't your decision. I forgive you."

"Oh." She paused there, unsure of what else to say.

"Thank you," she said after a moment.

"Good! Now, that should be worth a reduction in clinic hours." Her mouth dropped open and she was at a loss for words once again.

As he exited, he paused at the door and winked at her. She closed her mouth and gave him a look of slight annoyance at being duped like that.

When he was gone, she shook her head and let a smile fall to her face. Amazingly, she felt lighter than she had for years. She was relatively sure that he was only kidding about the clinic hours, but one could only be relatively sure of anything when dealing with him.

Besides, he wasn't going to get out of them no matter what he said. He'd given up his wild card.