Cuddy hoped to sleep through the night. Hoping wasn't enough.

It was the click of the bedroom door closing that woke her up. Why was the door closed? She reached over to the other side of the bed, finding only the warmth he had left behind. Cuddy curled up in it and looked down at the soft glow of the living room light sneaking in under the door. A click and the low, unintelligible babble of voices from the television. Then the heavy clunk on the counter as he got out a bottle of scotch. It wasn't a dream. For the first time in weeks, maybe months, House was up in the middle of the night again.

The television was on. That meant he was planning on being up for a while, if not the rest of the night.

Well, as long as she was up...

House was settling back onto the couch to watch a Vietnam war documentary when he heard the yapping squeak of the bedroom door. He watched as his lover made her bleary-eyed way to join him, only to stub her toe on the table. She let out a string of curses that made House blush, then hopped the last three steps and collapsed on the cushion next to him. He put his arm around her and pulled her closer, more than a little angry that she was losing sleep because she felt the need to keep him company. He kept his anger to himself. Smacking her toe was more than enough punishment for one restless night. If he let his anger show through, she would probably turn around and rip his head off.

"You okay there, boss?" he asked quietly, as Cuddy grimaced and massaged her injured foot.

"Ouch! Damn, that hurts..."

"Did you break anything?"

"No...no, it just hurts like a bitch," she replied with clenched teeth. "By the way, I now officially hate this table."

"Duly noted."

"If I ever stub my toe on it again, this thing is becoming firewood."

"If I had a fireplace, that threat might mean something. What are you doing up this time of night, young lady?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," she answered, looking up at him, "except without the 'young lady' part."

"I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep," he said. "It's as simple as that."

"You woke me up when you closed the door."

"Yeah, well, that wasn't supposed to happen."

"Is your leg hurting again?"

"No," he said a little too curtly.

"It's been a long time since you've been up in the middle of the night," Cuddy observed. "Is everything alright?"

"The insomnia was feeling neglected."

"Neglected?"

"He's afraid I don't love him anymore, so he stopped in to say 'hi'."

She set her aching foot on the now hated table. The big toe was red and a bit swollen, the polish chipped all to hell. "Why now?" Cuddy asked with a touch of concern.

"He's jealous of you. It's a full moon. It's Friday the thirteenth. How should I know?"

"Why did it have to wait until you're ready to back to work?"

"Because it could. It always pops up at odd times. I've had insomnia since I was a kid. I've learned to live it. Why can't you?"

"I shouldn't have to and neither should you."

"Well, when you put it that way, Lisa, I guess I should be off to bed now for my full nine hours. Make that ten."

"Are you feeling alright?" she asked in all seriousness.

"Just dandy, boss. It's just insomnia. I'll be fine."

"Do you need more recovery time? You can have all the time you need."

"I'm going back to work on Monday, Lisa. I'm ready, willing and able. We didn't become doctors because we're so worried about our beauty sleep."

That made her snicker. She stayed up with him for another half hour, and made him promise to have breakfast waiting for her if he was still up when the alarm went off. Cuddy staggered back to the bedroom and closed the door. Despite all appearances, she knew something was bothering House and he was trying to hide it. Was his leg bothering him? Was that why he couldn't sleep? She clicked on the lamp and looked for the bottle of Vicodin on the night table.

The bottle was missing.