Cuddy didn't mean to find it.

Well, okay, she supposed that wasn't entirely true.

She had opened the search engine. And she had typed in his name. But it was the equivalent of coming across a locked safe in an empty room, entering a random combination, and finding that it opened the door.

But now that she was staring at this giant, unexpected windfall, the question was: What was she going to do about it?

It had all started when Princeton Plainsboro joined a new digital data sharing program with some neighboring hospitals. The idea was, if a patient came to you who had been treated at a one of the participating hospitals, you had all his medical records at the click of a button.

One of the hospitals in the program? New Jersey Memorial, where Dr. Nolan had his private practice.

She couldn't resist, so she typed GREGORY HOUSE into the search engine.

She never expected to find anything. The program was only six months old. House hadn't been treated by Nolan in over a year.

But damned if his name didn't pop up.

At first she thought maybe it was a different Gregory House. But no, the attending doctor was Dr. Darryl Nolan. That was way too much of a coincidence.

Her next thought was that maybe Nolan had uploaded archived patient info.

But then she saw the date on the patient file: April 24, 2011, just a week ago.

So House went to see Nolan after the breakup, she thought. Good for him.

The temptation to click on the link, read the file, was almost overwhelming.

But how could she? It was a violation of everything she believed in: Her personal ethics. Her loyalty to House, despite it all. Not to mention the doctor-patient confidentiality law.

She closed the program and tried to focus on other things. She went over a budget report. She made a phone call to a potential donor. She even walked to the lounge to get herself a cup of coffee.

"I could've gotten that for you, Dr. Cuddy," her assistant, Anita, said.

"I felt like the walk," she said.

But nothing worked. She had to read that file. Maybe it would give her some closure, or at the very least some insight into House's recent behavior. House had been so affectionate toward her in the past several months—almost doting, by his own standards—she'd forgot how truly vicious he could be when he was angry. His behavior since the breakup—the whores, the immature stunts, that cruel sham of a marriage—had all been designed to humiliate and enrage her. But how would he explain himself to Nolan? Or would he. . .

So she clicked.

Patient Name: Dr. Gregory House

Age: 52

Notes: Patient underwent treatment for opiate addiction and hallucinations brought on by the addiction and depression in the summer and fall of 2009. Subsequently, patient was treated on an out-patient basis, from November 2009 to May 2010.

Patient has a genius IQ and a extreme skepticism about the therapeutic process. His tendency is to deflect, obfuscate, or joke when on the verge of a "breakthrough."

This doctor has found it is best not to try to match wits with him—a losing proposition—but to appeal to his sense of rationality and logic. He wants to be "happy" or at least "less miserable," as he once told me. Successful therapy can give him the tools to help him feel better. When possible, allow patient to draw his own summaries about the best course of his treatment.

Additional notes: On May 10, 2010, patient left therapy, claiming I was a "faith healer" with "nothing in [my] bag of tricks."

Patient made a surprise appointment on April 24, 2011.

For the purposes of this transcript, patient will be referred to as H and I [clinician] will be referred to as N.

Monday, April 24. 11 a.m.

H: Well, get it over with.

N: Get what over with?

H: The gloating.

N: What would I be gloating about?

H: The fact that I've come crawling back. Last time I saw you I was repudiating your entire profession and calling you a quack.

N: A faith healer, actually.

H: Better still. . . So go ahead. Tell me you told me so.

N: House, if you're reaching out for my help, I'm here for you. No gloating. No told-you-so's. You just have my support.

H: Lucky me.

N: So what brings you here?

H: The fact that my life is going so well and I've never been happier! Oh, wait. That's wrong.

N: What are you unhappy about?

H: How much time do you have? [Patient picks up clock on desk, looks at it]. Wait! I know the answer to that! 47 more minutes!

N: Let's not worry about the time. Let's just talk. Why did you come to see me today? Have you been hallucinating again?

H: No. What do you think I am? Crazy?

N: House. Might I remind you that you came to see me.

H: I'll count that as a tiny gloat. Now, finally, we can be honest with each other. My girlfriend dumped me and I'm back on vicodin.

N: I'm sorry to hear that.

H: Thank you. I'm cured!

N: Let's rewind a bit. Since when do you have a girlfriend?

H: Had. Had a girlfriend. What part of dumped don't you understand?

N: Tell me about her.

H: You already know all about her. Dr. Lisa Cuddy. Dean of Medicine. Firm of breast. Cold of heart.

Cuddy briefly looked away from the computer. They were about to start talking about her. It was not too late to close the file, continue on with her day. But she had to read more. . .

N: The last time I saw you, she was about to move in with her boyfriend. You were upset. What changed?

H: She and I shared a somewhat. . .emotional experience together. A crane explosion in Trenton. We lost patients. It was a rough night.

N: You bonded.

H: Something like that.

N: So she broke up with her boyfriend?

H: Her fiancée.

N: How soon after the breakup did she start dating you?

H: Half an hour?

N: What?

H: She came over that night. I was about to. . .relapse. And she told me she had dumped Lucas and that she loved me.

N: Wow. Those are pretty intense circumstances to begin a relationship under. How did that make you feel?

H: Orgasmic. But that might've just been all the orgasms I had.

N: So you two made love that night.

H: That night, the next morning. Early afternoon. Mid afternoon. . .

N: And then what?

H: Then we were both exhausted. We needed a few hours to recuperate. We're not machines!

N: I mean, after the initial rush of excitement, the sexual release, then how did you feel?

H: I felt great.

N: Great?

H: How else would I feel?

N: You tell me.

H: Have all your dreams ever come true?

N: Not many times, no.

H: Mine neither. But they did. And it felt great.

N: I would also imagine, that if my dreams came true, I would worry that maybe it was too good to be true. Did you have any such concerns?

[Patient does not make eye contact.]

H: Yes, I suppose. Later . . . I had some concerns along those lines.

N: So how long were you and Dr. Cuddy together?

H: About 10 months.

N: Congratulations, House.

H: And again I say, what part of SHE DUMPED ME, didn't you understand?

N: Ten months is a substantial amount of time. To me, that demonstrates you've come a long way since I first began treating you.

H: And now I've regressed.

N: Tell me about the relationship. Were you a good boyfriend?

H: If you're asking if I went down on her, yes I did.

N: Seriously House. I'm curious. Do you think you were a good boyfriend?

H: Are we grading on the curve here? By normal guy standards or by House standards?

N: Let's go with House standards.

H: I. . . tried. I tried really hard.

N: Did Dr. Cuddy think you were a good boyfriend?

H: Apparently not.

N: She must've thought so at first.

H: At first we were both on a sex high. Eventually, some real issues came into play.

N: Like what?

H: She occasionally thought I attended to my needs above hers.

N: Did you?

H: Not intentionally. But I suppose, sometimes. Yes.

N: Did you tell her you loved her?

H: (Inaudible.)

N: What?

H: All the time.

N: She has a daughter, right?

H: Rachel.

N: Did you have a good relationship with the child?

H: I don't know what any of this has to do with me being miserable right now.

N: I can't help you with where you're going if I don't know where you've been.

H: Christ. Did you read that on greeting card someplace?

N: It upsets you to talk about Rachel?

H: No. . .why would it upset me? She's a great kid.

N: You got close to her?

H: I liked spending time with her. Is that so hard to believe?

N: So you're saying that you miss her.

H: Yes, of course I miss her. But it's not like I'm losing sleep over it.

N: Okay.

H: You don't believe me?

N: All I said was okay.

H: That was a loaded okay.

N: Let's move on. Tell me about the breakup. What happened?

H: Dr. Cuddy got sick.

N: How sick?

H: She had a mass on her kidney. Then X-rays showed lung involvement.

N: Metastasized kidney cancer?

H: Look at you, acting like a real doctor! It's adorable! . . .Yes, that was our fear.

N: That's terminal.

H: We were wrong. The tumor was benign. The shadows on her lungs were an allergic reaction to antibiotic.

N: But you thought she was going to die.

H: Yes I did.

N: And how did you handle that?

H: Poorly. It's safe to say I handled it poorly.

N: Meaning?

H: Meaning I . . did what I always do when I'm scared. I ran away.

N: You didn't visit her in the hospital, sit with her, hold her hand?

H: I did, eventually. But I needed some. . .help.

N: What kind of help?

H: Medicinal.

N: You took vicodin.

H: Ding-ding-ding! Give that man a medical license.

N: And Dr. Cuddy found out?

H: Yes.

N: Because you told her?

H: Hell no. Do you think I'm an idiot? She just. . .knew. Said it came to her in a dream.

N: So she broke up with you because you relapsed?

H: Yes.

N: Really?

H: Well, that's not how she put it. She said, and I quote, 'I didn't break up with you because of the pills. I broke up with you because of what the pills mean."

N: What did she think they meant?

H: That her kidney ailment may not be terminal but my selfishness is.

N: I'm very sorry you went through this, House. I wish you had come to see me sooner. Sometimes an illness is harder on a loved one than it is on the patient.

H: Tell me about it.

N: So what's the status of your relationship now?

H: Sometimes we take a brief break from not talking to each other so that we can yell at each other.

N: But you have to work together? She's still your boss.

H: Yes. I've tried to minimize my contact with her.

N: Still, that must be hard.

H: It blows.

N: I want to hear more about how you've coped with the breakup, but we're running out of time.

H: Of course.

N: And before I agree to treat you, we need to discuss the vicodin.

H: I need it.

N: No, you don't.

H: I'm in pain. Excruciating pain.

N: You managed the pain without vicodin for two years.

H: That was then, this is now.

N: I can't treat you therapeutically if you're addicted to drugs.

H: You did once before.

N: You were getting treatment. The therapy was part of the treatment. I want to admit you to an inpatient rehab center.

H: Forget it. I knew this was a mistake.

[Patient stands up. Starts to leave.]

N: House, you want help. That's why you came to me.

H: I want help with my misery, not with my …dependencies.

N: They're one and the same.

H: Then I guess I'll stay miserable.

[Patient puts his hand on the door.]

N: Wait!

H: What?

N: Inpatient rehab with weekend passes.

H: No.

N: Outpatient rehab.

H: No.

N: Okay, House. I'll treat you. Twice a week. And in three months, we'll reassess your need for rehab. Fair?

H: Fair.

N: I'll see you on Thursday then.

H: I'll see you then.

N: House, before you leave, can I ask you something?

H: I'm sure the rash will clear up on its own.

N: Cute. . . The last time you saw me, you expressed a certain disdain for therapy, to say the least. What made you change your mind?

H: I guess. . .the fact that it worked.

N: Worked?

H: I mean, it must've worked because Cuddy fell in love with me.

######

Cuddy felt her eyes well up with tears. Then she heard the sound of a man clear his throat.

She looked up, slammed her computer shut hastily, and turned a deep shade of crimson.

"Resorting to Internet porn already, Cuddy?" House said.

"I'm not. . ."

"You know, if you need dick that badly, I'd be happy to service you. We could have some sort of sex-for-clinic-duty arrangement."

She rubbed her eyes.

"What do you want, House?" she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Nerve biopsy," he said, roughly tossing a file at her.

She caught it, read the file.

"And you're absolutely sure it's necessary?"

"No, it's just a really trendy procedure. Nerve biopsies are the new black."

"If you think it's necessary then. . . go do it."

"Thanks boss," he said, beginning to leave her office.

"House?" she said cautiously.

"Cuddy?" he said, leadingly.

"How are you?"

He looked at her, gave a derisive little snicker, and left her office.

She watched him walk away. It was almost surreal, the disconnect between the House on the transcript—sad, needy, lovesick—and the sarcastic, rude, taunting man who had just been in her office.

But that's House, she thought. His hurt and pain manifests as anger.

She needed to remind herself that when he was landing direct blows. The crueler he is, the more he hurts.

She opened up her computer. There was one more transcript on file. House's follow up session, last Thursday. She put her cursor on the file and clicked.