"I have to say that you've made a remarkable recovery," Cuddy said between mouthfuls of ravioli. "Four days ago you passed out at this very table and I had to drag you to the couch."

"You can't keep me down. I've been thinking about changing my name to Superman, but then I'd have to go through all the trouble of getting new checks and credit cards. Still, Superman House has a nice to ring to it." He finished off his lasagna and washed it down with ginger ale. "Superman House, it just rolls off the tongue."

The lady doctor raised an eyebrow. "Those three days off did you some good, but something's different."

"If you say so."

"I don't just say so, I know so."

"Okay, what's different?" House asked, refilling his glass of ginger ale.

"You."

"Really." He reached over and refilled her glass, the bubbles spilling over. "Do tell."

Cuddy leaned into the table and said, "That was hardly the first time you drank yourself into a coma about Stacy. When you get into those moods you sulk around for weeks. Then two days ago the strangest thing happened: After years and years you decided to separate, as you call it, from Stacy. Now barely forty-eight hours afterwards, that bender might as well have not even happened."

The doctor smiled, his chin in his hand. "I told you my scotch budget couldn't take it anymore."

"There was much more to that decision than your booze supply, Greg."

"True. Stacy and I are separated and when the divorce is finalized you'll be the first to know. Do you really want to know why I made that decision?"

"Yes."

"Careful what you wish for, Lisa." He was no longer smiling, his face now locked in a contemplative deadpan.

"Tell me. I can handle it," she said.

House was looking at the table, feeling the weight of her gaze. Glancing up, he said, "That night I had a dream. About you."

"You told me--"

"I know what I told you," he broke in. "That night my dream made a liar out of me. My point is that night I dreamed about you and I finally realized that you were with me and Stacy wasn't and I had wasted far too much time and scotch hanging on to those memories. So now I'm kicking them off. Words cannot describe what a tremendous relief it is to get the weight of those memories off my back. It's amazing how that can help in recovering from a bender."

Cuddy was sitting straight in her chair, slackjawed. "Jesus, Greg..."

"Did you get what you wished for?" The doctor sipped his ginger ale.

"No," Cuddy said softly. "But that's a good thing. Have you dreamed of a me again?"

"Last night."

"That's nice to hear."

"Yes it is." Chin back in his hand, House said, "Now let's talk about you."

Cuddy frowned. "What about me?"

"Hmmm...where to start. A smart, gorgeous woman like you, a doctor, the Dean of Medicine at a major hospital. You could have any man out there and yet somehow you chose a jackass like me. The man you loved to hate became the man you hated to love, and I'll bet that drove you insane on more than a few occasions. You wanted to keep our relationship a secret and I had no problem with that. You always wanted me to go to your place, and as long as you opened the door I had no problem with that, either. Then I stayed up four nights in a row and drank twenty gallons of booze. You came over here, took care of me, cooked my food, slept in my bed, wore my clothes, and left your car out front. As soon as I got better that could have been the end of it, but no, here you are again with your car out front where any idiot driving by can see it. You discovered something--you don't care what other people think and it's a great feeling, isn't it Lisa? It's a weight off your back that words can't describe."

The room was silent. They're eyes were locked, each soundlessly daring the other to look away first. Finally, Cuddy turned to the wall.

"People are going to find out sooner or later," she said. "If they happen to find out sooner, I don't really care. It won't change anything."

"Nope." House agreed. "You'll still be the Dean of Medicine and I'll still be a jackass."

Cuddy had to laugh at that. "Are you finished with your dinner, Dr. Jackass?"

"Sure. Why?"

"You still have one more agreement to hold up. You have to play my requests."

"No problem," he said, gathering up the empty plates. "If I don't you'll change your mind and steal my damn piano."

"No," Cuddy smirked. "It's too big. I'll just take the rest of your tee shirts."