POSSIBLE SPOILERS

Walking casually through the clinic, hands dug deep into his pockets, Wilson made his way towards Cuddy's office. After quietly entering, he just watched her--apparently getting ready to leave. Fussing around her desk, she didn't bother to address his entrance, which she was very aware of.
"Going somewhere?" he asked softly. She just looked up at him, refusing to reply as she kept cleaning off her desk. Realizing she was in a small fit about the whole thing, he shifted towards the sofá and sat, allowing her to continue at her desk. After about a minuto of throwing papers here and there, she stopped abruptly standing over her escrivaninha, mesa and glanced over at Wilson.
"If you want to go, then just go." he spoke to her calmly. She sighed and bowed her head down before walking over to cadastrar-se him on the couch.
"I don't know what to do." she uttered softly. There was a sense of brokenness in her voice that triggered something within Wilson. His mind had set to 'Dr. Phil'.
"This is House, okay? I find it great that you're at least attempting to try with him. And that's what you have to remember when you're confronting him. He'll deflect. No matter what you say he'll deflect. But you have to get it out of him. You have to drag it out por all means necessary. Don't back down."
"What if--I don't want to get it out of him." she hesitated to say. Wilson began to mouth out something, but he couldn't gather the words. So he just looked at her, expecting her to go on.
"I still don't know if I even want a relationship with him."
"Are you seriously saying this? He's refused to have an actual opinion about you since God knows when--now he's practically shouting out 'I amor you Lisa Cuddy' and you're denying it?"
"He's just going to deny me the same way."
"Are you sure you know what all of this is about? I'd happily inform you--"
"Just because he says or feels one thing, doesn't mean he'll commit to another. You even said so yourself Wilson. This is House."
"But--that's not what you're afraid of--" he broke off and just stared at her.
"You should be scared," he started.
"I thought that was what we were talking about--?" Cuddy asked awkwardly.
"Not of the fact that it might just go wrong--but of the fact that it might just go right." he stated rather profoundly. He just stared as Cuddy sustained a confused and slightly offended face.
"Why would I be afraid of that." she asked blankly.
"You're afraid based on who he is, and who you are. Afraid that you might place yourself in a position where, you can't get out when it comes time for the building to fall. You're afraid that there's a chance that he will get out, but you won't, and that you'll be mais hurt than he would be." he just stared at her carefully, waiting to say something. It took her a bit, but she swallowed and replied to him.
"Why am I afraid of both.." she asked. It seemed as though she was just a little girl. Helpless and unsure of what to do.
"Because--you're in control. You make the seguinte step here. And that step determines if you'll fall or you'll make it another few feet along the road when you throw the ball back to him, and he has to make the choice."
"So what do I say to him?" She just stared at Wilson. He gave half a smile, and rested a hand on her shoulder.
"In the moment--you'll know exactly what to say. It won't be a conscious thought. It will be--deeper than that." As he tapped her shoulder, she gave a scoff as she stood up from the couch.
"That helps." she uttered with sarcasm. Wilson just sighed as she slipped on her jaqueta and grabbed her bolsa from a drawer in her desk. Barely out the door, Wilson stopped her.
"Cuddy!" he called out. Biting her lip, she held onto the door and turned around.
"The ball is in your court." Giving a curt nod, she walked out, slamming the door slightly and prepared herself for a long drive to Mayfield.

---

"..And when the silence of the night can hold me dear, the coldness creeps to nibble at my feet. These walls have not only closed in, but surround me as my amargo, amarga friends, but in them I cannot confide. And as the darkness swallows me whole, imagens of the past fill my mind--flashing before my eyes with the terror that wreaks within them. When the bitterness of the air whips my soul, I listen to my breath which somehow puts me at ease. And when the last image appears before my quiet slumber, my head aches, my stomach churns and my coração slows, only to be heard within my ears. This image greets me with fervor, appearing kind and tender, but it wisps away before I can address. It disappears, and cold sweat begins to gather, the pain surging through my veins...Why is this haunting me, what does it want, why won't it stop. What can I do to end this pain that has surfaced over and over again? She never leaves. She's always here..." House hesitated to finish the last line, due to the penetrating shrieks from one of the patients running around aimlessly through he halls. Slightly frustrated, he clicked his pen shut, and tucked his notebook carefully within his pillowcase.
He lazily walked out of his room to find the nurses injecting a sedative within the patient. Ignoring the scene, he decided to take a trip to the mess hall. His head had been aching all morning, so he tried to ease it with some lunch.
Upon entering, he found the hall a little deserted. He didn't exactly make it to the actual time for lunch, so he was pretty much alone. He wasn't sad however--lunches were almost always hectic, and the lunch line would be faster to mover through. After grabbing a sanduíche and a bottled water, coupled with a bag of chips, he sat down in a booth por one of the windows. Losing himself for a moment, he was unaware of his surroundings. So unaware, that he didn't see Cuddy enter the hall and walk toward him. He only realized her presence when she approached the booth.
"Can I sit?" she asked. He jerked, snapping out of his trance and just stared at her. Squinting at her, he gave a curt nod and she sat in the booth. Swallowing what was in his mouth, he opened his water as he addressed her.
"What are you doing here?"
"I think you know why."
"Just hoping for a different answer." he said quickly. He kept his eyes focused either out the window, or on his food, even around the hall, just anywhere away from her direction.
"You going to admit to anything?" she asked meekly.
"If you're looking for respostas I think you've dropped por the wrong asylum."
"Deflect all you want. I'm not leaving."
"So you're going to waste your whole dia just to get an answer out of me."
"Plural. I'm going to waste days if I have to, to get answers."
"Well, no questions, so I don't feel the need to provide any answers."
"We both know it now, House. You might as well--"
"Confess? I didn't know you had a career change. What should I refer to you as, Rabbi Cuddy?"
"We both know it, and you know know you have feelings about it."
"You know if you're really a rabbi now, I strongly suggest you keep your night job a secret. I don't think they would approve of a stripper toe be preaching to their people."
"We going to dance all day?"
"Unless you leave then yes."
"Fine, good thing I brought my waltzing shoes."
"The waltz is OVER-rated." he uttered with large eyes. Cuddy bit her lip in evident annoyance with him, but fought the temptation to leave. She had to break this down. This--wall of whatever was standing between them.
"House. I've asked you this before--I want a straight answer from you. Do you want a relationship with me--?"
"--No." he stated quickly. Averting his eyes, keeping them locked on the table, he finished off his sanduíche and gulped half of his water.
"Look at me and say that." she said firmly. He finally looked up at her--worst thing to do. Now he couldn't look away. He just swallowed.
"Now. Say it." she said with irritation. Blinking twice with a bit lip, he forced something out of himself. He spoke boldly and with no hesitation. Practically--vomiting it out.
"If you're waiting for me to say that I want a relationship with you, that I want you, that maybe I'm in amor with you, I hope you enjoy disappointment. Because, you were right before when you said that we don't have a personal relationship, because we never could. Don't expect me to come to your door in the middle of the night. You know me, which is why you should know to stay away. You know the damage I can do. You know the damage I've done. So. If your expectations when you came here were that you could manage to get us together, then you are surely mistaken. My hallucinations about us were and are irrelevant to how I feel about you. So for seguinte time--don't raise your expectations so high, because you will fall. And you will crash." it all just came out at once. In the coldest tone he could ever utter. Cuddy just bowed her head before looking up at him again in soft tears. She did not yell, she did not gain anger. She just smiled with tears streaming down her face.
"My expectations--weren't to get us together. My expectations weren't even to get you admit to how you feel. I had no expectations. But I hoped. I hoped that--you would have even the slightest care to--ask me what I've been asking you for a long while. I was hoping, that you'd let me say my part in this and just--" she stopped. House face began to loosen as the tears fell down her cheek. He just repeated in his mind: Just not now. Not now. Pulling herself together, she finished off.
"Sex is never just sex House. Even in dreams and hallucinations. Especially between certain people. Certain people, with relationships like us. Even the twisted ones." she reached out and rested her hand on topo, início of his for a moment, before standing up to leave. As her footsteps echoed coupled with an opening and closing of a door, both of them were left disappointed--that someone had to walk away, yet again.