Hey, everybody! It took me a little while to get this chapter posted. Thanks, as always, for the fantastic comments. I love them. Enjoy!!

"How are you feeling?"

Cuddy asked House as she glanced up from the kitchen table in his apartment. House shuffled into the kitchen, still exhausted.

"My muscles are sore, my head is stuffed and heavy, and my leg hurts," he answered her bitterly.

Cuddy looked back to the notebook she had been writing in. She placed a period at the end of a sentence. "Craving your Vicodin?"

"Yes," House said.

"Planning on getting some?" Cuddy brought her eyes back to him.

"No," he replied and scratched at an itch just below his hairline.

"Why?" Cuddy pressed.

"Because someone promised me Celebrex," House answered, even though he knew Celebrex could never help him like Vicodin did. He moved toward the refrigerator and added in a low growl. "And because I hate myself."

Cuddy smiled slightly. "You'll get your Celebrex on Monday."

House nodded to the notebook on the table, his hand on the door handle to the fridge. "What were you writing?"

"About my dream last night." Cuddy flipped the notebook closed.

"Well, you didn't cry out or hit me." House opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of apple juice.

"I know." Cuddy dropped her head down slightly and directed her eyes to her notebook. She began to doodle on the cover.

House shut the refrigerator door as he gave her a glance. "What's wrong?"

Cuddy drew in a breath and set her pen down. "I think I should move."

"Move?" House repeated. "That would just be giving into that asshole. You know, he can't hurt you, Cuddy."

Cuddy brought her eyes to House, her eyebrows drawn. "And what if he breaks out?"

"Of prison?" House limped toward the counter and pulled a glass from the cabinet. "This isn't Hannibal Lecter we're talking about."

"It might as well be," Cuddy muttered.

"What did Harding say?" House asked her.

"I haven't talked to her about it," Cuddy answered him.

"He's not going to escape from prison," House told her as he poured juice into the glass. "It isn't going to happen."

"And I thought getting kidnapped would never happen," Cuddy replied quickly.

"Good point." House moved over to the table with his juice and sat down. "You can't live being afraid all the time."

"I know." Cuddy hesitated a moment. "Harding mentioned exposure therapy in order to get over my fears. I just don't know if I can do it."

"She wouldn't have suggested it if she didn't think you could do it," House said.

Cuddy frowned. "But, what if I can't handle it? What if it makes me worse?"

"Harding knows what she's doing." House tried to ease her. "She isn't going to make you worse. She'll work with you at your pace, Cuddy. She knows how to handle these kinds of situations."

"Yeah." Cuddy gave a nod, though her eyebrows were drawn together in uncertainty. "You're right."

"I know." House stood to his feet. "Want some cereal?"

"Sure," Cuddy answered, "but, you don't have any milk."

"Doesn't matter to me." House crossed over to the cabinets and opened one. "I'm going back to bed."

Cuddy turned in her chair to look at him. "You going to sleep?"

"Probably." House limped back over to the table and set a box of Cheerios on it. "Why?"

Cuddy gave a shrug. "I was thinking about going to the grocery store. You need milk and I need some things."

"I don't need milk if I'm going back to your house," House told her. "Or am I staying here?"

"I don't know." Cuddy placed her focus on the cereal box.

"Do you want me to stay at my place?" House watched her, trying to figure it out without her having to tell him. When she didn't answer nor give a reaction, House asked, "What are you getting at, Cuddy?"

"Nothing." Cuddy pulled the box closer to her and turned it to look at the nutritional information.

House decided to let it slide for now. "Want me to go with you to the store?"

"No." Cuddy pushed the box back and looked up at him. "I shouldn't be long. You rest."

"Sure?" House raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah." Cuddy gave a short nod. "I'll see you when I get back."

Cuddy stared at the milk. Whole milk, two percent, one percent, skim. There was chocolate and strawberry. Gallons, quarts, pints. Cuddy frowned. She wasn't ready to make this decision. So, she pushed her cart with the pack of grapes in it towards the end of the aisle.

"Cuddy."

She froze, the wheels of the cart coming to a rest. Cuddy turned and watched as House came limping toward her.

"What are you doing here?" She asked him. "I thought you were getting some sleep."

"I did," House told her. "I woke up and you still weren't back yet. Your cell phone's off."

"Is it?" Cuddy pulled her purse from her shoulder and began to dig through it, looking for her cell phone.

House frowned as he examined her shopping cart. "All you have are grapes?"

Cuddy stopped looking for her phone and brought her eyes to House. She felt color rising to her cheeks. "I didn't know what exactly to get."

"Do you know what time it is?" House's eyebrows drew together, realizing something was off. "You've been gone for over four hours."

"No, I haven-" Cuddy stopped herself, suddenly uncertain. "What time is it?"

"It's a little after one thirty," House answered.

Cuddy shook her head. "No, it-" She stopped again, realizing House wouldn't lie to her. She paused a moment. "Really?"

"Really." House gave a nod. "What's going on?"

"I couldn't decide what I wanted." Cuddy looked to her cart and then back at House. "I put stuff in the cart and then I second guessed myself and put them back. Then, I went and got the same stuff again, thinking I was wrong the first time, but then I ultimately put everything back. Except the grapes. I just..." She diverted her eyes to the grapes in her cart. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Well, let's do this then," House said, indicating the shopping cart. "Quickly because my leg already hurts and I can't walk for long."

"No," Cuddy told him. "Go back-" She frowned, confused. "Wait, how did you get here?"

"My bike," House answered simply.

"You rode your motorcycle with your leg?" Cuddy asked, appalled.

"Yep," House replied.

Cuddy held back the want to scold him. "Well, we're taking my car back. Go sit in it. I'll be quick."

House didn't budge. "That's what you said earlier. We'll do this now. Together."

Without waiting for a response, House limped up the aisle and lifted a quart of skim milk. He held it up as Cuddy wheeled the cart back over to him.

"Milk." House set it in the cart. "What next? Bread? Eggs?"

Cuddy gave a shrug. "Bread... I guess."

"Do you need milk?" House gave a nod toward the milk.

"No," Cuddy answered and then shook her head. "I don't know."

"There's a reason why people write out grocery lists, Cuddy," House responded.

"I know." Cuddy snapped back as she fought against the tears that suddenly began to well up in her eyes.

House softened slightly and frowned because of his words to her. He moved closer to her.

"Hey." House wrapped his arms around her. "I'm sorry."

Cuddy shook her head against him. "It's not... I just... I don't know why this is so overwhelming." She let out a sigh. "God... what has happened to me?"

"A hell of a lot, but you're not alone." House drew back and looked her in the eye. "All right?"

Cuddy nodded and broke from his embrace. "Yeah." She returned to her position at the cart. "I wanted yogurt."

"Okay." House gave a nod and led the way further down the aisle toward the yogurt. He picked up a pack of six. "You like vanilla, right?"

Cuddy pressed her lips together and nodded again. House set the yogurt in the cart. He sauntered over to the freezers across the aisle. He cocked his head in her direction.

"Want some ice cream?" he asked her.

"No," Cuddy said, more bitterly than she meant to. She pushed the cart past him and headed out of the aisle.

House caught up to her side and hobbled alongside of her. He sucked in a few deep breaths through his nose to help keep the pain in his thigh at bay. He glanced down the first aisle they passed.

"Dog or cat food?" House looked over at her.

"No." Cuddy kept her eyes straight ahead.

"How about..." House glanced down the next aisle. "Tampons? Toilet paper?"

"No." Cuddy's tone was harsher this time.

He waited for the next aisle. "Chips? Pretzels?"

"No!" Cuddy's volume had risen.

She was in a bad mood now. House knew that. She could switch easily into different moods, sometimes without any reason whatsoever. House decided to stop his annoyances and just get through the shopping trip. He hoped she would perk up by the time they finished.

Cuddy bit the inside of her lip as she continued to push the cart. She was heading toward the fruit and vegetables, and wondering how she managed to stay at the grocery store for over four hours. She felt stupid, unorganized, and confused, each a characteristic she never would have identified with herself before.

Slowing the cart, Cuddy realized House wasn't on her left anymore. She turned to look back for him, but stopped when she felt the warmth of his hand on hers. Cuddy looked down at the cart where her right hand and was covered by his.

Cuddy brought her eyes to him, but he was nonchalantly looking toward the check out lines. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips as Cuddy began to push the cart again. House kept up alongside of her, letting his hand remain on hers.