"Tears, are a kind of blood that we shed, when a part of our soul has been damaged."
-James Evan Wilson

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House drove furiously through the freeway. Averaging himself going nearly ninety miles per hora on the freeway in his Ford Taurus, in a dividido, dividir second, anything could happen. But he didn't care.

He had his phone pressed tight up against his ear, as he maneuvered the car with his hand on the twelve o'clock position, shifting recklessly from lane to lane, waiting for a voice on the other line. He was fifteen minutos away from PPTH, before he could get off exit nine, and take the ramp up.

After the first two calls, Wilson picked up.

"House--"
"What the hell happened over there?"
"Listen--look--"
"Don't explain to me anything else, except for why she nearly went into cardiac arrest."

His voice was sharp, and angry. And even, breaking.

"Her parents."
"What? Why the hell are they there? Why do they decide now to visit their goddamn daughter at the hospital?"
"They thought it would hurt too much to see her. And now they know why it would've been easier to visit early, because they decided to tell her that they're getting a divorce."
"Shit! That's the perfect thing to tell your kid before you die. 'Honey we amor you, you're going to be fine, por the way I'm leaving your mother."
"How do you know it's the father?"
"Because it's al-ways, father. Son of a--"
"House? What's going on?"
"Stupid bunda on the road."
"Why are you coming back here?"
"I don't know about you Wilson, but when people I amor have near death experiences, I like to rectify that, and come down and visit."
"She's perfectly fine. She's in stable condition."
"Are her parents still there?"
"--yeah."
"Shit. Well, it's already too late. I'm about to make a left turn at lincoln highway."
"She's gonna be pissed at you when you get back here."
"Most likely yeah. You never know--son of a bitch--!"
Swerve. Tires screech. Crash.
"House! House? House?
As House had furiously made his way down Promenade Boulevard, ready to make a left turn, a semi truck ran his red light, leaving House no choice to swerve out of the way, but aiming for the Thad Rock Mountain stone sign instead.

---

Couple hours later 8:22 p.m.

House had been transferred from Princeton General over to PPTH, within minutes. With a concussion, broken left arm, two broken ribs, and some internal bleeding, he of course, made it out okay.

Wilson had put House on Cuddy's floor, so it would be easier to watch both. Now that they were both in fragile conditions, he needed to keep a steady watch on both of them.

House didn't come conscious for a couple hours after the accident. He woke up to Cuddy sitting beside him in her hospital gown. When he opened his eyes, she smiled at him, and caressed his face, tracing her thumb over the cuts.

"This--is what you get for driving twenty miles over the speed limit."

Her voice cracked, but she managed to speak calmly to him. He tried speaking, but it came out weak and hoarse.

"Hey. He nearly hit me okay? Dead goner if he had hit me.
"Well, then you shouldn't have been rushing your bunda over here, after we told you not to."
"Natural--reflex when someone pages me, 'Cuddy - 911'."
"Of course."

Then and there, Wilson came in with an aggravated look. He was still in his coat, assuming he'd be keeping watch overnight.

"You idiot."
"So I've been told."
"Yeah. Ninety miles? It wasn't even the free way."
"He ran the red light! And they don't know that."
"Shut up. Now you got a broken arm, two broken ribs. Live with that."
"I think I can managed."
"God."

Wilson collapsed on a assento in the corner and rubbed his face.

"Your parents still here?"
"--at the hotel."
"Jesus, out of all the times to visit, they pick NOW?"
"Can we not talk about that."
"Hm. Come here."

He urged her over and sat on the cama with him. He brought his good right arm over, and hugged her.

"Parents can be a bitch. I know. Been there, way too many times."
"I just--can't see them, or at least my dad, leaving her."
"I know."

She hung her face as tears began to fall. Wilson just looked at House as they exchanged looks.

"I'm going to go guys. I'll be back later tonight."
"Night Wilson," they said simultaneously.

Now that they were alone again, House would talk to her about what happened.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there." He finally said.
"Don't. Please. Don't--start this--again."

He looked away. Her head was still bowed as she sat on his bed.

"Then I'm taking you back to your room."
"No. I'm staying."
"Then talk to me. You can't keep avoiding this Cuddy."
"Just--please, House--"
"I thought you said you accepted this. You accepted that you were dying. Now you can't even talk about it."
"It's not a subject that I'd like to casually talk about House. Especially out of all people, with you!"

She got up from the cama and began to pace around. She wiped her face a little as he just lied in bed.

"You keep bringing it up in, every conversation we have! I just want to be able to have a conversation with you that doesn't revolve around me dying!"

He ripped off all his chords and got out of the bed.

"I'm sorry, okay! I can't help it that you're dying. I'm sorry that I can't help not accept the fact, that I'm losing you. I'm sorry that I spend every goddamn moment, worrying whether or not you're still alive!"
"House. Stop--get back in bed--"
"No. We're gonna talk, I'm going to your level. You're worse than I am, so why do I have to stay in the bed?"
"I can't do this."
"What!"
"Listen to you cadela, puta about the same thing every time! House--I know I'm dying. I told you I've accepted that. But that doesn't mean I want to bring it up in every conversation that I have with people! I mean, I need a little normalcy for gods sakes!"
"Normalcy? You think you can be diagnosed with terminal lung cancer, and expect everything else to be normal? Please, enlighten me on this."
"I didn't want this to change anything."
"You didn't want it to. But you have no choice Cuddy. It did. You can't help that."
"Yes, I know, but you, blowing it way past proportion, is what has made this situation all the worse."
"How, could I ever, be blowing this way past proportion?"
"You nearly killed yourself at an intersection, going ninety goddamn miles per hour, because Wilson paged you that I was having a coração attack."
"I'm sorry, that I worry about you okay? seguinte time you have a coração attack, I'll be sure to check in after the funeral."
"That's not worry House. That is--"
"What!"
"I don't know! But it's certainly not right."
"How can caring about you, to MY extent, not be right?"
"You're being--paranoid!"
"I think I HAVE to be, seeing as you could die at any god given moment, and for me to not be there, I might as well kill myself."
"God, you're such an ass.."
"I've been worse, trust me."
"Ugh."

They were on complete opposite sides of the room. Cuddy stifled her anger, and her tears.

"So what? Now you're not talking?"
"I'm leaving."
"Stop!"
"I don't want to hear you cadela, puta anymore House! Do you know how tired of I am of this?"
"Yes!"
"No, not about me. Us! You're constantly bitching about everything. I am so tired of seeing you hurting, because whenever we do something it's, 'oh, we've only done this once, and it may be the only time we can'. Every time I look at you, you have this look locked on me. I hate it! And it kills me. I feel like I've--constricted your life, let alone you're well being, because of it. I used to get hurt when I saw you in pain. And now, you're hurting now that I am. And that, is killing me faster than anything else."
"I'm paranoid because it scares me. For the past twenty years that you've been in my life, I've known you, and seen you as Lisa Cuddy, good friend from college, great boss. Even if, we were together, I would still act this way. Because--"
"You can't control it, and it drives you insane?"

He took a balanço at the wall, resonating a loud bang. She stood with nothing to say. He looked at her for a second.

"I feel like I've already lost you. The time that I've had with you hasn't been enough. After you're gone, the only thing I have left is--pain. Even mais so than before. You--add mais to the load. I'm not scared of that. But I'm terrified of losing you. Because I know it will. And I can't stop, or change that. So, it makes me angry--and whatever the hell else I feel most of the time."

He stopped talking for a while. Let it process through her, before ending the argument officially.

"Overall?"

She looked at him. He continued.

"Watching someone you love, slowly release from your grip--it's a painful thing. But it hurts more--to know that you didn't see it coming, and you were obscured from the truth, just like everyone else. And it slowly kills you, every day, knowing that it could possibly be your fault that their gone."

She turned away and covered her face and finally let go. She cried bitterly at the door, prepared to leave. House, squinted his eyes, and clenched his teeth, then walked over to her and pulled her in a one arm embrace. She buried her face into his chest so that her sobs would be silenced. He sat on the floor with her as she continued. You couldn't hear the sobs that retreated from her mouth, but you could feel it, and you could see it well. He ran his hands down her hair, and rested his chin on top.

"I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

They sat there for a few hours, and she eventually fell asleep. So, he took his arm off his sling, and carried her to her room. Wilson was already in the room when he entered.

"Jesus House, put her down!"

He had whispered at him seeing that she was sleeping. Though it was quiet, it was a nagging tone.

"For Gods sakes your arm is broken! If you carried her all the way here, that will have definitely slowed your recovery on that."
"This damn thing, is not pain Wilson. Trust me on that."