Cuddy managed to gently nudge House over without too much trouble, giving her just enough to stretch out and get some feeling back in her legs. God, she had once stayed awake for three days straight during final exams in med school and hadn't felt this exhausted. It was amazing that House wasn't crankier, given the long bouts of insomnia he often suffered through.

He opened his eyes and glanced around the dusky room. Apparently not interested in anything he saw, he closed them again and half-buried himself under the covers. Feeling chilly without his body heat, she edged over until they were touching and rested her head against his shoulder.

Cars and trucks rumbled by. Shouts echoed down the street. Outside, the world went on as usual. Let it. She didn't care about the outside world the four walls of the bedroom. She wasn't missing anything. All that mattered was the man sleeping next to her.

She draped an arm across him and clasped his hand.

"This is nice, boss," he murmured.

In an instant her eyes flew open and she sat straight up in the bed, still gripping his hand so hard that she nearly wrenched it from his wrist.

Boss. His pet name for her. It was odd, but it fit and he always called her that with complete and sincere affection.

"Ooowwww...," House muttered and scowled as he pulled his hand free. "That hurts."

"Greg," she said breathlessly as her heart hammered in her chest. "What did you just call me?"

He looked up at her with glazed and unfocused eyes. "Hmm? What?"

"What did you just call me?"

"Nothin'."

"Greg–"

"I dunnnoooo..."

"You just called me–"

He waved a hand impatiently at her, then turned over and pulled the blankets over his head like a little boy afraid of the dark. "Be quiet. Elizabeth might hear you."

Cuddy's brow furrowed. She didn't know anyone with that name, and as far as she knew, neither did House. "Who's Elizabeth?" she asked, pulling the blankets off his head, static making his hair go every which way.

I heard a woman's voice.

"Greg, who's Elizabeth? Did she do this to you? Greg?"

She kept talking about you, Lisa, and how it was too bad that you weren't there to watch.

House didn't answer. He was asleep.


"Dr. Wilson? This is Detective Eames."

"Alex!" Wilson exclaimed into the phone. "I left a message for Goren. Did he get it?"

"Yes, that's why I'm calling." She paused for a few seconds, then asked, "How are you all doing? How's Dr. House?"

"He's doing alright. He's sleeping right now. So is Cuddy."

"I'm afraid we're going to have to wake them up," the detective said, sounding sincerely apologetic. "We're getting ready to come back down there. We have a few things to talk about."

"Things? You mean the kidnaping, right? With what happened to House?"

"Yes, it has everything to do with the kidnaping."

Wilson felt his stomach tie itself in a knot. "This isn't good, is it?"

"No. Some things have come up and...it's better if Bobby tells you. He can tell you all about it better than I can."

"Why didn't he call me? I left the message on his voice mail."

"He asked me to return your call," she explained. "I had to peel him off the ceiling when I got here this morning. He didn't sleep a wink last night; he's downstairs banging his head against the wall on a four espresso high and babbling at about a hundred miles an hour. I got three hours of sleep last night, so I'm the sane one around here and would make a little more sense on the phone."

"Good God..."

"The thing is, this case has hit a little too close to home, Dr. Wilson."

"For who?"

"For my partner."

"What? I don't understand–"

"Let him explain it. I can't do it justice."

"Okay."

"We're on our way."

"I'll have some coffee waiting for you."

"Thank you. You wouldn't happen to have any decaf for Bobby, would you?"

"Sorry, just the regular stuff."

"Damn. I guess I'll have to talk him down later. See you in about an hour or so."

"See you later, Alex."

Wilson hung up the phone. He decided to let House and Cuddy sleep another half hour.