Everyone was in the kitchen. The smell of strong coffee mingled with the smell of leftovers being reheated in the microwave. Spending the last few days cooped up in House's apartment had given Wilson a unique opportunity to take a few glances at the relationship House and Cuddy liked to keep within the confines of their respective homes. The two lovebirds were chatting with each other, well House talking away and Cuddy was listening, so Wilson stole another glance.

She was sitting across the table while House waited for the food at the microwave. House doing a favor for someone else with nothing in it for him. Wait, there was something in it for him–Time spent with the person he loved. Wilson watched as they chuckled together at a private joke. House was happy, happy, when he was around Cuddy. The oncologist leaned back into his chair and took another sip of coffee, hiding his smile. Their relationship should have never worked. How could a notoriously bitter, crippled misanthrope and a savvy, professional administrator end up head over heels for each other? If they ever discoverd the real answer, they should bottle it and sell it.

"Wilson!" House's irritated voice yanked him out of his thoughts.

"What?"

"Can you stop zoning out long enough to get the Pepsi out for us?"

"Pepsi...now? It's not even ten o'clock yet."

"Well, Lisa wants one, so can you get her one, pretty pretty please?" House explained, then let loose a string of obscenities when he burned his hand on the hot plate. "And I want one, so while you're at it–"

"Yeah, yeah...," Wilson muttered, then did what was asked of him. It was a small favor for his friends, plus Cuddy still looked a little shaky on her feet. The favor was mostly for her. He couldn't help but notice that House had insisted that she sit down while he warmed up her eggrolls.

So that was what Gregory House was like behind closed doors with Lisa Cuddy. A decent person showing affection to the person he cared about most in the world. The one person he would do anything for, including heating up Chinese food. Wilson couldn't decide if he wanted to be amused or die from shock.

After their quasi-breakfast the doctors moved into the living room. Wilson once again indulged in his new-found past time of studying the dynamic of his friends relationship. They were on the sofa and he was sitting in the easy chair. He subtly watched them watching television. House was in his usual spot with his feet on the table. Cuddy was snuggling up next to him. His arm was around her shoulder, pulling her closer. Her hand was on his thigh. House was obviously enjoying the contact; a ghost of a smile played on his mouth, a content look brushed across his features.

Pounding at the front door. Everyone jumped. A squeaky male voice called "Groceries!" Everyone exhaled a huge sigh of relief at once.

Wilson double-checked through the peephole and opened the door a stringbean of a young man who fit his voice. He looked as if he had spent the last ten years going through the awkward stage of puberty.

He pointed the young man to the kitchen, then found the doorway filled with tall frame of Robert Goren.

"Dr. Wilson," the detective greeted.

Goren still looked tired and rumpled; hair sticking up on one side. He must have fallen asleep on the ride over. Eames stepped from behind her partner and into the living room. "Good morning, Dr. Wilson," she said.

The oncologist tried not to give away the fact that the sneaky detectives had scared him half to death. "Good morning, Alex. Groceries just arrived. Would either of you like anything to drink? Coffee? Soda?"

"No, thank you," she replied, and Goren shook his head.

"Well then," Wilson began, suddenly aware of how idiotic he must look. "I'll just put a few things away." He turned and practically ran to the kitchen to help the delivery kid.

"Detectives!" House called. "Come on in. Take off your coats and stay a while."

"Hello, Dr. House," Goren said, his tone drowsy but friendly. He walked around the sofa and frowned at the sight of Cuddy's bandaged face. "How are you, Dr. Cuddy?" He sat next to her and gently tilted her chin towards him to get a better look. Not being rude, just curious.

"I'll be fine, thank you," she answered. "It looks worse than it is." Cuddy's expression turned pensive. "Why did she choose me to deliver that message to you? Why couldn't she deliver it herself."

"She seems to think that she can use you to get to me," Goren explained. "Is she hurts my friends, she hurts me. And she's right."

"But why us?" Cuddy grabbed Goren's hand. "How much longer is this going to continue?"

"I wish I knew, Dr. Cuddy. I really wish I had an answer for you. You didn't see her face in the parking lot, did you?"

"No, she broke my nose before I could get a look at her. I just saw pavement and blood and stars after that. I could only hear her voice. She called me by name. She had an English accent."

The delivery kid left with a generous tip in his pocket. Nobody in the living room noticed him walk out the front door. Wilson had him help put away the perishables, leaving the counter and table cluttered with cans, boxes and bottles. He made sure the door was locked, and walked back to the easy chair. Eames acknowledged him with a succint smile, then turned her attention back to the sofa.

"We're looking for her. Believe me, we're looking," Goren continued. "We're going to catch her. She's been playing mind games with me for years. But I never thought she would sink this...low."

Cuddy looks up into the detectives tired brown eyes. "We can't...we're not hiding in here forever."

"Of course not," Eames said.

The Dean of Medicine looked over her shoulder at the blonde detective sitting on the arm of the easy chair. "But that woman is still out there, dammit! Why can't you catch her? Why isn't she rotting in prison?" Cuddy turned back to Goren, closed her eyes, and took a few deep breaths. "I'm...I mean the three of us, are going back to work as soon as possible. Even if it's just for half days, or just a few hours, we're going back. A lot of people depend on us. We can't help anybody by sitting in here."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from the three of you," Goren said sincerely. He was still holding her hand.

"That woman isn't going to take over our lives."

"No, she's not." It was House that spoke up.

A loud bang made everyone jump. It came from the front door, like someone had thrown a rock against it.

"Hey! You don't have to knock so loud!" Wilson yelled, thinking it was the delivery kid coming back for something. "Did you leave your keys?"

No answer.

"Hello?" Wilson walked over to the door. "Hey kid, did you forget something?" He put his hand on the doorknob.

"Dr. Wilson, wait!" Goren got up and went to the door. Eames followed. He drew his gun. So did Eames. The detectives motioned for Wilson to move out of the way. Goren unlocked the door and turned the knob. The gun pointed into the empty hallway. "Clear."

The door swung open into the apartment. There were three Polariod photographs stuck to it, showing Goren and Eames getting out of their SUV in front of the apartment building. The first two were simply taped to the door. The third was held in place with a knife, the blade going right through Goren's face.