Hey, guys! Thanks for the comments. I'd like to say that this chapter has a particularly graphic scene. Please, read with caution.

She was starving herself. She knew that. She wasn't stupid. She knew. And she tried to be smart about this trap she fell into.

She took multi-vitamins to receive some of the vitamins and minerals she wasn't receiving due to her lack of eating. But, taking the pills on her empty stomach made her nauseous beyond comfort and so she ultimately decided to stop taking them.

She was fighting a losing battle. Maybe even a losing war. She encouraged herself to keep going, to make it through one more day because things in her life weren't better. Actually, they had started to seem to be getting worse.

But, when she thought about giving up on everything she had been engaging in, there was a little nagging voice in her head that told her to continue on her path. This little nagging voice had turned into a monster, her demon. And she hated him with everything in her. But, she couldn't let herself get rid of him either. At least, right now, she didn't want to.

House intercepted Cuddy as she passed by the elevators. She was heading towards the Clinic after walking down three flights of stairs.

"What are you wearing?" House sneered, making a face at her.

"Clothes," Cuddy snapped, keeping up her pace and not looking at him.

"I can't see your breasts, Cuddy," House pointed out, eyeing up the fabric of her beige sweater.

"Good," Cuddy replied, still refusing to look at him.

"Wait a second." House gave a tug on her sleeve's thick, soft fabric. "You do realize you're wearing a sweater in May, right?"

"The air conditioning is cold."

She sent a glare in his direction and he released the sleeve. However, he still walked alongside of her.

"And you're wearing pants." House's eyes drifted downward. "I didn't know you owned a pair."

Cuddy stopped walking and tiredly looked over at him. "I don't have to wear a skirt to be professional."

"No, but it doesn't hurt," House told her. "Especially when you've got the legs to show off."

She shook her head and took off again. "I'm busy."

He kept up with her. "You're walking."

"To my office to do work," she added. "Don't you have a patient?"

"Nope," he answered.

"Then, maybe you should be seeing patients here," she called over her shoulder as she passed through the doors of the Clinic.

House followed her through and grabbed onto the sleeve of her sweater again. She stopped when she felt the pull and turned to face him. He lowered his voice, his eyes locked with her dull ones.

"You look tired all the time."

"I'm stressed." She pulled her arm slightly to get him to release her sleeve.

"You look sick," he said.

"I'm not," she replied.

"You're pale," he added.

Cuddy shrugged. "Haven't been getting as much sleep."

"Well, you should try to get more because you look awful," he told her.

"I will." She nodded, her tone sarcastic. "Thanks."

Cuddy headed toward her office while House watched her for a moment, debating on giving up or going after her. He picked up his pace and skirted around her so he could block her from entering into her office.

"Are you okay?" His eyes were locked with hers again, wanting the truth from her instead of her avoidance.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she told him, but her tone indicated otherwise.

He raised his eyebrows. "You sure?"

She made a face. "Yes, Wilson, thanks."

"I was just—" House shook his head. "You know what, Cuddy? Do whatever the hell you want."

House turned from her and began for the Clinic doors. Cuddy watched him go, knowing that he had an idea of what she was doing and now he going to let her do as she pleased. But, she couldn't be sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

She had lost control. As she stood in the kitchen, her stomach too full and empty food containers lying about, she couldn't figure out how she let herself lose control. Hot tears streamed down her face as she fully realized what she had done.

Now frantic, Cuddy glanced toward her clock. It was going for midnight. She hurried out of the kitchen and to her bathroom. Her stomach was doing flip flops and she just wanted to feel as empty as she did before her binge happened. She needed to not feel this full anymore.

Cuddy lifted the lid to the toilet seat as she knelt down in front of it. Her mouth was watering as she felt close to vomiting. She spit into the toilet and breathed heavily. She wanted to vomit, knowing it would relieve her.

After a few minutes passed, Cuddy was still working through her nausea by breathing. She realized if she was going to throw up, it wasn't going to happen without help.

Cuddy took two fingers and put them to the back of her mouth. She pressed down on her tongue, wanting to trigger her gag reflex. She knew this was a bad idea, but the thought of all the food she consumed sitting in her stomach was making her feel worse.

She began gagging and removed her hand. Cuddy coughed, but nothing came up. She knew she had to go further. She jammed her fingers toward the back of her mouth again, more determined this time. She coughed and gagged for a second time, but she refused to remove her hand. Not until something came up.

Her stomach lurched and she pulled her fingers out of her mouth as she began to throw up. It was the cereal she ate. It burned the back of her throat, her insides not only ejecting from her mouth, but from her nose as well.

Cuddy took in gulps of air after the vomiting stopped. Her nose was partially clogged and her stomach still felt full. Her fingers were dirty from the same vomit that floated in the toilet.

Tears dropping from her red and watery eyes, Cuddy leaned over the toilet again. She stuck her two wet and cold fingers to the back of her mouth. She pressed down and moved them around until she began to throw up for a second time.

It was the cereal again and it mixed crackers and then the orange from the carrots she had eaten first to keep her hunger away. The carrots she had eaten before the binge took over. She coughed and sputtered, not wanting the rejected food getting stuck in her throat. She spat into the toilet, her face marked with tears, toilet water, and vomit, and then sat back on her heels.

Cuddy reached for the handle to the toilet with her clean hand and flushed it. She forced herself to stand, her head throbbing. She caught a look of herself in the mirror as she stood in front of the sink. Her face was red and her eyes were bloodshot.

She turned on the water and washed her hands first. After, she began to clean her face and rinse her mouth while trying to blow the vomit out of her clogged nose.

Once she was satisfied, Cuddy turned off the water and dried her face. She grabbed a couple of tissues and blew her nose as hard as she could into them, surprised when she pulled back and saw flecks of orange carrot in her tissues. Cuddy did her best to make sure her nose was clean before throwing the tissues away.

Her head throbbing and her body exhausted, Cuddy left her bathroom and headed toward her bedroom. Her throat was raw and burning, but her stomach felt emptier, better, and that was all that seemed to matter.

House watched her walk through the doors of the cafeteria. She entered into the line, her movements stiff and slow. She was wearing pants again and a long sleeved shirt. Both items seemed too big for her.

"House."

Coming to attention, House looked over to Wilson. Wilson had his eyebrows raised, staring at his friend expectantly for a response. House hadn't been listening and he really didn't care.

"Have you noticed Cuddy's been losing weight?" House asked.

Wilson frowned, not expecting for House to change the subject. "Yeah, I guess." Wilson spotted Cuddy in line. He gave a nod towards her. "She's still eating."

House glanced back toward Cuddy before shaking his head at Wilson. "You don't know that."

Wilson shrugged. "She's getting in shape."

"For what?" House cocked an eyebrow.

Wilson caught on to where House was going. "You think something's wrong?"

"Ask her to sit," House said.

"Lisa!" Wilson called out and waved toward Cuddy as she left the cafeteria line.

Cuddy appeared surprised for a second before she made her way over to their table. She kept her tray held high, but House still caught the sight of the small salad with no dressing and the apple sitting on top.

"Hey," she greeted them both, a tight smile on her face.

"Want to join us?" Wilson offered and pushed out an empty chair toward her.

Cuddy stared at the chair, shaking her head. "No, I have a lot of work to get done." She looked back to Wilson. "But, thanks."

"You sure?" House asked. "We're very riveting people."

"Another time," she told them and headed for the cafeteria doors.

House leaned closer to Wilson and lowered his voice. "She's lying."

"About?" Wilson was unsure.

"Everything," House answered and leaned back.

Wilson raised his eyebrows. "You think she's not eating?"

House shrugged. "Look at her."

"She's lost weight, but that–—"

"She's underweight," House corrected him.

"Well..." Wilson frowned. "Just because she's lost weight, that doesn't mean she's doing it in an unhealthy manner."

"She's pale, cranky, tired..." House trailed off. He lowered his head slightly, his tongue running over his bottom lip. "Besides, her eyes say it all."

Wilson thought a moment before he nodded. "She has been kind of distant lately. I just thought that she's been busier."

"She's avoiding both of us," House said.

"So, what should we do?" Wilson asked.

"Call her on it," House replied.

Wilson raised an eyebrow. "Do you think that's the best idea if you're right about this?"

"What do you suggest we do?"

"Talk to her," Wilson offered. "Let her talk to us."

House shook his head. "Talking doesn't get anyone anywhere."

"Why don't I try?" Wilson suggested. "You'd just upset her with your attitude, but maybe I can get to the bottom of it."

"Fine." House shrugged. "Be my guest."

Wilson tapped on the glass to Cuddy's office door before he let himself in. She looked up from her desk, a pen in hand.

"Hey, Lisa," he greeted. "Busy?"

"A bit," she answered and gave him a small smile.

"It wouldn't take much time," he said.

Cuddy put her pen down and set her folded hands on top of her desk. "What's up?"

"I noticed I haven't been seeing you around as much." Wilson walked toward her desk, stopping behind the chairs across from it.

"Yeah," Cuddy agreed. "Sorry."

"No, it's all right," Wilson told her. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Cuddy replied, trying to sound cheerful. "Why? Do you think something is wrong?"

"No." Wilson shook his head, but then stopped. "I mean, yes. You seemed stressed, tired."

"I'm both, but it's okay," Cuddy said. "I'm fine. Really."

"There's nothing else bothering you?" Wilson asked.

"Nope," Cuddy answered and she realized what was going on. House must have mentioned his suspicions to Wilson.

"Okay." Wilson took a step back. "Well, we'll have to make a lunch or dinner date soon."

Cuddy brightened her tone. "Sure."

Wilson held Cuddy's eye contact and gave a short nod before turning and letting himself out of her office. She frowned the instant he left as she wondered how long she would be able to keep this charade up.

"Well?" House raised his eyebrows as he watched Wilson approach from the Clinic.

"Nothing," Wilson told his friend as they began toward the elevators. "I don't know, House. Maybe she's fine. Maybe she's just not getting enough sleep."

"She may fool you, but she isn't fooling me," House told him.

Wilson frowned. "House."

"Wait and see, Wilson," House replied and pressed the button for the elevator.

House entered Cuddy's office and held up a box of chocolates. She watched him cross the room, her eyebrows raised.

"I brought you something," he told her.

Cuddy stared at the chocolates box. "What's wrong with it?"

House shrugged. "Nothing."

"Just set it there." Cuddy gave a nod toward her desk.

"Aren't you going to have a piece?" House asked and placed the box where she indicated.

"What's wrong with it?" Cuddy repeated her question as she stared suspiciously at him.

"Nothing," House answered for a second time. When he realized this wasn't working, he came clean. "I know what you're doing."

"Do you?" Cuddy's tone was flat, her eyebrows raised, unimpressed.

"Yes," House replied.

Cuddy leaned forward and placed her chin in her palm. "And what is that?"

House lifted two fingers and stuck them in his mouth. He bent over, pretending to vomit. Cuddy sat up straighter and glared at him.

"I don't do that," she said.

"Oh, I'm sorry." House stood erect and stared at Cuddy for a few moments before adding, "That was me not eating."

She frowned. "I don't do that either."

"Liar," House accused.

"I eat," she insisted.

"Then, have a piece of chocolate." House slid the box toward her.

"And that'll prove what, House?" Cuddy asked him.

"Just eat it." House shrugged. "No big deal."

Cuddy rolled her eyes and picked up the box. She tore the plastic from it and pulled the top off. She took a piece and placed it in her mouth. She chewed it, her mouth salivating, the sugar and taste of chocolate something she hadn't experienced in a long time.

"Better?" she asked him, the chocolate still in her mouth.

House eyed her up a moment before turning and leaving. Once out of her outer office, he ducked behind a corner in order to spy on her. He caught sight of Cuddy spitting the chocolate into a tissue before throwing it, and the opened box of chocolates, into the trash.