Finally, it had started to rain. It drove against the wind and slapped against the glass in sheets, with all the unleashed fury that Mother Nature could muster. Lying awake in bed, Lisa Cuddy had already heard the telltale distant claps of thunder, somewhere far off in the distance, but drawing near. Good, she thought bitterly: It's about time someone up there started crying over all this madness.

The entire day, the clouds had been passing in fleets overhead and constantly threatening to burst. Somehow, their presence was comforting to Lisa Cuddy, because it would have seemed wrong to have Gregory House being admitted to a psychiatric hospital on a perfectly sunny day. Cruel almost, as though God weren't laughing enough at him already: making him question his own mind, the one exact thing that he had always relied on.

She had gone to bed early, because the entire day and its events had completely worn her out. Between House having a nervous breakdown seemingly out of the blue in the morning, and going to Chase and Cameron's wedding in the evening, she wasn't sure which way was up or which way was down. It was hard to tell what to feel, after a day like that; it seemed as though she had gone through the entire range of human emotion. Laughing like a hyena in House's face when he'd absurdly asked her to move in with him after shouting to the whole world that they had (falsely) slept together; then, crying at the wedding: not from tears of joy, but tears of sorrow which she had masked as joy. (It was amazing at this point that she hadn't had a nervous breakdown herself.)

Rachel was sound asleep in her crib, having passed out with incredibly ease several hours ago. She had already had a full glass of wine: just enough to make her drowsy, but not dizzy---hoping that it would be enough to knock her out, without the addition of taking a sedative. Unfortunately, two hours later, she was still wide awake.

She couldn't stop thinking about House, and how he must be feeling, spending his first night in lockdown at Mayfield. She couldn't stop thinking about how utterly devastated he had looked, or how he had come very, very close to completely breaking down in her arms. She had never seen him look so fragile, so frightened...he had turned into a stranger before her eyes, and had become, in turn, a very lost, very scared little boy.

It was the silence, however, that scared her more than anything else…because after he'd confessed that there was, indeed, something terribly wrong, he'd gone completely mute. He simply stood there, looking as though he weren't aware of his surroundings, and saying not a word. As though she'd read his mind, she'd known right away what he needed, and had taken him directly to find Wilson. Wilson, it seemed, was secretly telepathic, for he had read both their minds and had called Mayfield immediately---because apparently House had already packed a bag at his place the night before.

How long had House been hallucinating, having delusions? Cuddy didn't know, and she doubted Wilson did, either; though House had confessed to him all about it first. He had hallucinated Amber, Wilson's dead girlfriend…and she could only imagine what that meant, guessing that he still probably felt a lot of guilt, which he'd never been able to express…because when did House ever say he was guilty? (Never, according to her recollection.)

Her entire body ached, as well as her head, and heart…and all she wanted to do was sleep and forget about all that had happened, because she was powerless to do anything about it on her own. The clock on her night stand read 3:25 am, and she rolled over on her side and groaned loudly so as not to wake the baby, because soon it would be time to start getting ready for work. It was then that she decided to giving up on sleep altogether---because there was probably no use in trying now. Pretty soon, there would be the first rays of sunlight creeping through her bedroom window, indicating the first crack of dawn: and Lisa Cuddy wanted nothing to do with it.

She was about to drag herself out of bed to get herself a cup of water (sometimes this helped), when all at once, the phone rang. Loud and shrill, piercing her eardrums. Who on Earth would be calling her at this ungodly hour? Phone calls this late at night (or early, depending on how you looked at it) was never good news…and Cuddy wasn't sure how much more bad news she could take. Restricting a yawn (as well as a scream), she somehow managed to grasp the phone, yank it from its cradle, and bring it up to her ear to mumble a wary, "Hello…?"

The first audible sound she was aware of was that of someone wheezing, as though they'd just run a marathon. No words, just the wheezing, which she found completely unsettling; and the longer she held the phone, the louder it got. Some jerk probably pulling a prank phone call and trying to scare the living daylights out of me, she thought to herself miserably. "Look, whoever this is," Cuddy snapped, "do you realize what time it is? It's almost 4 am in the goddamned morning, and some of us have lives---"

"C-Cuddy?" the voice, sounding desperate, blurted out, "Please, don't hang up: it's me."

Cuddy sucked in her breath, because she recognized the owner of the voice instantly, and immediately a sense of both panic and dread washed over her simultaneously. "Wilson?" she exclaimed, "Oh, my God---What's---what's wrong? Are you okay?" Another thought occurred to her and, feeling her stomach lurch with fright, she demanded from him at once, "What—what is it? Is it…Is it House? Did something else happen---?"

"House is in Mayfield," said Wilson, "right where I left him last…he's…he's safe…he's being looked after." He sounded positively awful, completely drained; there was something strange about his voice. It sounded nasal, as though he'd acquired a cold sometime over the last fifteen hours. "I…I'm sorry I woke you---"

"You didn't," Cuddy said, feeling more at ease, now that at least she knew House wasn't dead, because at this point, it seemed nothing else could happen to him that wouldn't be worse. She realized as she answered that she was relieved to hear Wilson's voice on the other end, because she'd been wondering how the trip had gone…even though she wasn't foolish enough to expect a happy ending. "Are you…okay?" she asked, even though she knew it was a ridiculous question, already knowing the answer. Of course he was not okay; he had just dropped his best friend off at a mental institution. (If he'd responded by saying he was okay, then he should probably be there himself.)

Instead of saying what she already knew, Wilson surprised her by a completely different response. She had barely gotten out the last word, when an almost inaudible "No" was heard: and suddenly, to her horror and amazement, he was crying. Crying uncontrollably, sobbing almost, and it scared her to death. She'd never heard him lose it like that, not even when his girlfriend Amber had died. (He'd cried in front of her then, but it was never anything like this; he sounded completely beside himself; completely inconsolable, and it all but broke her heart to hear it.) Without even realizing it, she was suddenly on her feet in a panic, pacing rapidly and blindly around the room and trying to calm him down.

"Wilson, Wilson, listen to me, it's going to be okay…he's going to be all right. Wilson, shhhh---please, calm down, you're scaring me," she said, and by this time she was crying too, although she was hardly aware of the tears as they fell. "I need you to calm down...I know this is scary and upsetting, but we're going to get through this, we can get through it together, okay? Are you hearing me Wilson? Please try to hear what I'm saying, okay?"

"I c-c-couldn't even…even t-ell him goodbye, Lisa…" She could barely make out the words through his gut-wrenching sobs. "H-he…he just looked…just looked s-so…he just looked so scared, so goddamned lost…"

"I know, I know, honey, I know," Cuddy barely managed to say through the lump in her throat, "it must have been such an incredibly painful thing to have to do, but it's where he needs to be right now…he just needs to get some help, and---"

"Wh-why didn't…why couldn't I see how…how much pain he was in?" As he spoke, she was stunned at how embittered and angry he sounded, but she knew it was directed towards himself, alone. "I…I'm his friend, Lisa," he exclaimed, "what in the hell is wrong with me?! I…I kn-knew about the hallucinations…but I d-didn't insist he call anyone. I…I kept it to myself…I thought the two of us could handle it. I-I didn't know he was delusional...I-I should have been more…I don't know…more concerned more…do you know I actually believed him when he told me about how the two of you…had…because…because I just wanted him to be happy and well and…"

By then, they were both crying, and Cuddy had to switch on the lamp because the darkness that filled the room and surrounded her with an already palpable intensity had become almost unbearable.

"I-I can't," Wilson mumbled, as his sobs were beginning to subside, "I can't do this alone..."

"Then come over here," Cuddy whispered hoarsely, "and keep me company…because I don't think I can do it alone either."

There was a pause in which he debated it in his mind, and then, to her relief, she heard a soft, but uncertain, "Okay…"

And the phone went dead, but she was still holding it.

TBC…