Hey, guys! Is anyone else as busy as I am? It's so hectic as of late. Anyway, here's the next chapter. I appreciate your comments so much. Thank you for your wonderful, kind words and encouragement.

House shifted on the couch, taking a slight pressure off his right thigh, relieving it. He was about to drift back off when he realized where he was. Opening his eyes, he looked to the television where a rerun of Saturday Night Live was playing. House sat up and glanced at the clock on the VCR.

Frowning, he grabbed his cane and stood to his feet. It was just after eleven and House had no clue as to where Cuddy was. He had begun to grow very worried when it became dark outside and she hadn't returned. Now, it was six hours later and he couldn't be sure if she was home or not.

House turned off the television and left the living room. He stopped in the hallway, his eyebrows drawing together when he heard heavy crying accompanied by labored breathing. House made his way toward the closed bedroom door, the source of the sound coming from behind it.

Turning the knob and finding it unlocked, House opened the door. All the lights were on and House's eyes fell on Cuddy. She was seated on the bed, hunched over. Her face was red and wet with tears as she tried to catch her breath.

"What happened?" House asked as he limped toward her. He thought about getting her tissues, but quickly realized that was the least of his concerns.

Cuddy couldn't stop hyperventilating so she shook her head in response to House. Frowning, House set his cane aside and bent down towards her.

"Cuddy, what happened?" House tried again. "Cuddy..." He let out an aggravated sigh. "Well, breathe at least."

House knew his anger wasn't helping either of them. He straightened as he drew in a deep breath to calm himself. He wasn't mad at her, but rather at himself. He had fallen asleep on her couch and if he had been awake when she returned home, maybe he could have prevented her anxiety attack from happening.

"Okay, hey, focus here on me." House placed a gentle hand on Cuddy's shoulder. "All right? You're okay. Just... breathe dammit."

Cuddy had become silent, not letting air in or out, tears still falling and her mouth partially open. House kneeled down in front of her, careful of his thigh. Cuddy sucked in a very deep and raw breath, like fire cracking on the back of her throat.

"Purse your lips," House instructed. "Like you're blowing out a flame. Like this, Cuddy."

House placed his other hand on Cuddy's shoulder, getting her to lift her head and make eye contact. House pursed his lips in the way he had told her and breathed in and out as an example. Cuddy watched him a moment and then copied his behavior.

"Now, breathe," House told her. "Deep breaths, all right? In. And hold it." Cuddy failed in holding the breath. "That's all right. Try again. In and hold it. Hold it." Cuddy did so. "Now, let it out. Again. Slowly. In." House breathed in along with her. "Hold it... Okay, out. And again. Hold it." House noted she was calming down. "Out. Again. See?" House leaned in closer to her. "Again. See, you're all right. Okay?"

Cuddy nodded. She reached a hand up and wiped at her cheeks, wanting to dry them. Her hands were slightly numb, as well as her lips. She straightened up and drew in a deep breath.

"You going to tell me what happened?" House asked. "What caused this?"

Shaking her head, Cuddy looked down at the hands she placed in her lap.

"Well, then I won't be letting you go out alone if you're going to come back hysterical." House waited for a reaction, but didn't receive one. He lifted himself up and sat on the bed next to her. "What happened?"

Cuddy sniffed, her breathing still slightly irregular. "You'll- you'll be mad."

"I said don't do anything stupid." House's voice was too defeated to be mean. "Do you understand what that means?"

"Yes," Cuddy answered and swiped at her eyes again.

"But?" House prompted.

"I had to." Cuddy shrugged, keeping her eyes directed downward. "I needed to."

"To find what now?" House just wanted her to look at him.

"I had to know," Cuddy muttered.

"Cuddy." House waited. She still didn't look up. "Talk to me." Again, he paused. "Did you go see Neil?"

"No," Cuddy was quick to answer. "I... went to Sharon Foster's parents' house."

House recalled the name and he felt he had a better grasp on the situation. "Okay."

"I just wanted to see who she was before Neil got to her so I can remember what the hell I'm fighting for here," Cuddy spoke rapidly and then lifted her red rimmed eyes toward House. "He killed her. I know he did."

House shook his head. "You don't know for sure-"

"It's pretty obvious," Cuddy cut him off harshly and stood to her feet. She moved away from the bed. "The police investigated him. There had to be some reason for that."

House's eyes followed her. "Cuddy-"

Cuddy continued on, not even hearing him. "I was going to go visit with the families of the other suspected victims, but... I couldn't."

"And you shouldn't." House reached for his cane and stood. "You can't handle this right now. You should be focusing on you, not dead people."

Cuddy faced him, eyebrows drawn in anger. "Sherry. Nina, Lindsay, Amanda, Joyce. They have names."

"You have to take care of yourself, Lisa," House said. "The dead stay dead, but you're living." House made his way over to her. "You were out all day. Have you eaten since this morning?"

Cuddy looked away. "No."

House sighed. "Of course not."

"Don't get angry with me," Cuddy snapped, looking back up at him and glaring.

"You don't eat," House replied. "How am I suppose to feel about that?"

Cuddy moved toward the door. "I forgot."

House took hold of her arm, turning her towards him. He locked eyes with her. "You need to take care of yourself."

Cuddy shook her head, trying to pull away. "I need to get out of here."

"And go where?" House asked.

"I just need to go." Cuddy pulled her arm from his grasp.

"You can't go out now," House told her. "It's late, you haven't eaten."

Cuddy headed for the bedroom door, swiping the car keys from the bed. "Well, I'm not staying here."

House followed Cuddy into the hallway and caught up with her halfway to the front door. He took her hand into his and pried the keys from her. Cuddy flinched at the metal being pulled across her hand. She glared at House and drew her palm into her.

"This is destroying you," House said harshly.

Cuddy turned her back to him and dropped her volume. "I know."

House stared at her. Cuddy's shoulders were hunched and her head was lowered, completely defeated. He took a step closer to her.

"If you really don't want to stay here, why don't I take you somewhere?" House suggested. "Perhaps actually going to your sister's?"

"I don't..." Cuddy shook her head. "She wouldn't want me there. Not like this."

"She cares about you, Cuddy," House reminded her. "I'm sure she'd-"

Cuddy turned. "No. I don't want her to see me like this."

"You need your family," House said. "They'll understand."

"I don't care if they understand," Cuddy replied bitterly. "I'm not going to them when I'm like this."

"All right." House backed away from that. "Then, where do you want to go? Anywhere. You can go anywhere, but I won't let you go alone."

Cuddy held his gaze and then moved into the living room. She sat down on the couch and curled up on the end. House followed her in and sat down next to her. He waited a moment before speaking.

"You want to go somewhere to escape it, but it goes along with you."

Cuddy sat up slightly. She stared blankly across the room. "And sleep doesn't even help because I can't sleep. And when I do, it's there. I just want it out."

"Seeing Dr. Harding will help," House told her, trying to reassure her that things had the possibility of getting better.

"Yeah?" Cuddy looked over at him, tear streaks on her face.

"Yeah." He nodded slightly.

Cuddy looked away from him. "I never should have went to the Fosters' home. I came back and I was shaking. I went into the bedroom because I didn't want to upset you." Cuddy brought her eyes back to House. "I was thinking about Sherry and her sister and her mother, who seemed to be dying herself. I kept thinking that could have been my family. And it made me think of the other victims' families and all of a sudden, I couldn't breathe and the tears just wouldn't stop. I thought I was going to die."

House kept his eyes locked with Cuddy's. "Anxiety."

"Yeah," Cuddy agreed.

"But, you made it through it," House pointed out.

"I'm tired of making it 'through' things," Cuddy practically whined. "I want to go back to just living. Not making it through a kidnapping, making it through a long night, making it through a panic attack. When is it going to stop? It just makes me so... tired."

House paused a moment and then shook his head. "I don't know how else to help you, Cuddy."

"You are now," she replied quickly. "By being here."

House took in her words, but they didn't comfort him. He felt useless. He stood to his feet. "Why don't I make you something to eat?"

"I can do it." Cuddy stood from the couch as well. "Just watch tv. Or go to bed."

"No," House said. "I'll wait for you."

"Okay," Cuddy spoke quietly and left the room.

Letting out a breath, House sat back down on the couch. Cuddy's appointment with Dr. Harding couldn't come sooner.