"No dreams about you last night, but I did sleep for six and half hours if that's any consolation."

"Sounds more like a consolation to an insomniac like you," Cuddy said, typing away an e-mail while House lounged across the sofa in her office. "How's Wilson?"

"Waiting for the ball to drop. He's got a lot on his mind right now. Don't be surprised if he's a little distracted today." Indeed, the younger doctor barely said two dozen words during breakfast. As soon as they got to the hospital he made a beeline to his office and shut the door.

"Where did that bruise come from?"

"He tried to catch an ashtray with his face."

"It looked like the ashtray caught him."

"Yup," said House. "Those pesky flying ashtrays will get you every time. Bruise or no bruise, the poor dope still loves his wife and doesn't want a divorce."

"Has he heard anything yet?"

Glancing at his watch, House said, "It's only 9:30, Lisa. If Julie's called a lawyer, he hasn't risen from his coffin yet."

Cuddy snickered and clicked away at the keyboard some more. "Well, maybe things will work for the best."

"Maybe," the doctor said absently. "I'm not going to hold my breath, but you can if you want."

The typing stopped. She peered around the monitor and frowned. "That's not very nice."

"No, it's not nice, it's realistic," he said, swinging his legs to the floor. "He's been through two divorces already and, whether he deserves it or not, I have no reason to believe there won't be a third. If I wanted to be really mean to Dr. Wilson I'd go to his office, hold his hand, tell him there's still a chance Julie will change her mind, help him stare at the phone, sugar-coat the whole thing and get his hopes up. But I'd rather do the nice thing and let him have a place to stay and shoulder to cry on when he needs it."

"I guess you have a point."

"Yes I do. Either way, Jimmy is now smart enough to know it's not going to end all warm and fuzzy. It never does."

Leaning on her elbows, Cuddy said, "Is that what he did for you when Stacy left?"

"Yes. Jimmy being Jimmy, he sugar-coated it a little. Back then he still honestly believed all people were basically good at heart."

"Did you believe Stacy would come back to you?"

"It wasn't believing so much as wishing." He was looking past the window, his expression completely blank. "For a long time I went to bed every night wishing that I would wake up with Stacy by my side and no pain in my leg. But wishes don't come true and believing in wishes won't make them come true, either."

Cuddy listened in rapt silence, struck by the intimate bits and pieces of himself he had been sharing over the past few days. "If Stacy came through the door right now would you take her back?"

"I can't answer that. Stacy isn't coming back. That's not something I wish or believe, it's something I know."

"How long have you known that, Greg?"

"Too long." He turned back to his lover and met her deep crystal blue eyes. "Besides, she never looked as good in my tee shirts as you." Cuddy's cheeks burned a bright pink, much to his amusement and enjoyment. "And she always wanted me to play 'Memory' and listen to those damned Barbra Streisand albums. Man, that used to drive me up the wall. I never got around to looking at your CD collection. Do you own any Streisand?"

"I think the Yentyl soundtrack is around somewhere."

"Keep it out of my sight or I'm taking back my tee shirt." Beeping. It was his beeper. "Well,
whaddaya know. A patient with strange and mysterious symptoms. We'll have to continue the Great Streisand Discussion later."

"Don't forget you have two hours of clinic duty today."

"But Dr. Cuddddyyyyyy..." he intentionally whined as he leaned on the cane to pull himself up.
"I'll miss my soaps."

Rolling her eyes, she said, "I'll let you know when I actually care. Give my best to Wilson."

House stopped just short of the door. "And if you happen to run into Wilson today, give him your best for me, too."