Goren closed his cell phone and put it on the table, then drained his glass of Glenlivet. He had no doubt that Cuddy would conquer her nyctophobia and lingering fear of Nicole Wallace one way or another, but it would be interesting to see if she could do it on her own. House would keep him informed. Until Cuddy actually asked for his advice or just for him to just simply listen, Goren fully intended to keep his mouth shut. He wasn't supposed to know, after all. If he let it slip, Cuddy would strangle him after she had finished strangling House.

The true reason Nicole Wallace went back to House's apartment was buried with her. Her laptop was analyzed forwards, backwards, inside-out and upside-down; while they found various documents on House saved in a file named 'The Gimp'; Cuddy's file was named 'The Whore'; not mention an alarming number of documents and articles on Goren himself; maps, several of Nicole's aliases, detailed articles on poison, detective work, forensics, and dozens of other serial killers, but not one single item in her hard drive told him the real reason why. The best Goren could come up after reading the files was that 'the whore' was in love with 'the gimp' and deserved to have her teeth kicked in because of it.

Nicole Wallace. Nicole Fucking Wallace. Murderous psycho bitch who would kill you just as soon look at you. Well, maybe that was just a little off base; if you had something she wanted or needed, she'd wring every last drop out of you first, then kill you and toss you out with the trash. She had been crafty, cunning, too damned smart for her own good, and extraordinarily dangerous. Yet she had met her maker at the hands of…the gimp.

How's that for irony, psycho bitch? Goren thought, then filed Nicole Wallace away.

Though another dinner together wasn't a sure thing as of yet, the detective began to make a list of things to do--clean his apartment top to bottom and back again, make sure there was some red wine for Cuddy and a bottle of scotch for House, and last but not least, the menu. Something simple but fancy enough to make it look like he put an effort into it, and made a mental note to ask Eames for a few ideas. And to ask her to bring the dessert.

She threw the covers back as he limped to the bed and climbed into it, then threw them back over him with a laugh, wondering if he could sense her grinning in dark bedroom.

"Miss me, boss?" House asked as he gathered her into his arms.

"You know I did," she replied, then gave him a few quick kisses before allowing herself to be crushed against him like a rag doll.

"Were you worried when you woke up alone?" He sounded sincerely interested in her answer.

"I was for a few seconds," she admitted, and couldn't hide the disappointment in her voice at her perceived weakness. "But the light was on, which was a good thing. Then you answered as soon as I called for you, which was even better."

"What if I hadn't answered right away?" House pressed on.

"I don't know. Maybe I would have panicked, maybe not." She rested her head in the crook of his neck. "But you're here now and I'm fine and that's what really matters."

"It's five minutes in the dark tomorrow, boss," he reminded her. "I'm not letting you get out of it."

"I know."

"I mean it."

"I know."

"Lisa," House began, then paused for a moment like he was thinking about what to say and how to say it and weighing his choice of words. "This nyctophobia, what exactly does it do to you? What is there in the dark besides Nicole Wallace hiding?"

She hadn't been expecting this question, now she had to find ananswer it that made some sort of sense. "It's…a lot of things," she began. "It's scary because you can't see anything that might in the room with you, just waiting to reach out and grab you. It can be like floating in endless space or suffocating while the walls are closing in. It's a solid, choking force that crushes you until there is no breath left in you. It's like being tangled in a thousand ropes and the more you struggle the tighter they get until there's no more life left in you."

"Damn," House muttered. It was only then that he was aware her nails were digging into his side.

"Tell me about it."

"You made it through three minutes with flying colors-"

"Not hardly."

"I say so, so there. Anyway, five minutes shouldn't be a problem."

"It's two minutes longer," Cuddy said.

"You'll make it, boss."

"You sound so sure. You make it sound so easy."

"I'll be sure to make it worth your while."

"With what? More ice cream?"

"Better than ice cream," House said salaciously.

"What is it?"

"It's a surprise."

"But it's better than ice cream. Mmmm…sounds intriguing."

"Damn right," he said, planting a kiss on her forehead. "Now does five minutes in the dark seem so bad?"