Stacy found Doctor House wedged into the back of his office, with his head braced against the corner of the wall. She stuck her head in the door, and called to him from a safe distance.

"Greg?" She put one foot into the office, concerned.

"Go away." House didn't turn around to acknowledge her. With a sigh, Stacy left him there, listening to his head thunk against the wall, on which the paint was cracked in several places from such repeated beatings. Thee hours ago she'd listened to him berating Cameron for stepping in and taking a bottle of Vicodin off his desk, which seemed to have appeared there overnight, a gift from the gods of pain medication. Three days going on four, and all the cold turkey treatment seemed to be doing was making him even more aggressive and irritable than he usually was. If Stacy had wanted to entertain a caged tiger, she could have stayed home from work. By now, Cameron was the only one in the building who hadn't decided to let House fail to quit if he so desired.

Stacy met up with Wilson and Cuddy on their way to lunch as she passed by House's office for a second time, in hopes of finding him in a slightly more pleasant mood. Wilson shook his head as Stacy made as if to call out to House, and she continued past the office with the others.

"He's miserable," Wilson sighed apologetically.

Cuddy looked unperturbed. "He's always miserable," she said with a shrug. "I think it's good for him."

"I don't mean he's being miserable to us," Wilson protested, frowning, "I mean he's miserable, he's unhappy, he's in withdrawal."

"What, you want me to go in there and give him a hug?" Cuddy snorted. "You first, Doctor. Stacy and I are going to go to lunch."

"I think Stacy should go talk to him," Wilson said. The comment lacked any vestige of subtlety, and Stacy ignored it. "No, I really do," Wilson continued, as if she hadn't heard him the first time. "He talks to you. He listens to you, which is more courtesy than he'd afford either of us."

"And what," Stacy asked, "might he listen to me say? I've got nothing. No "one hundred and one ways to get over your Vicodin withdrawal. Besides," she added, with a glance back towards his office, "He doesn't listen to me. He just derives joy out of pretending to so that he has an excuse to be argumentative and peevish."

"But he does derive joy from it," Wilson noted. Stacy rolled her eyes.

"He ordered me out of his office when I went in earlier today to try and console him, if that's what you want me to do. He was beating his head against the wall." She knocked on the wall, imitating the sound that Wilson had no doubt heard emanating from House's office.

"It's all right," Cuddy said. "The man's got brain cells to burn, I'll give him that." She shrugged. "I've long ago given up trying to understand him, I'm satisfied with a professional truce. But if he keeps this up, and can't handle his duties as a doctor, he'll have to stop. He's got obligations, I've got obligations, and his patients expect a doctor, not a lunatic."

"House is never what a patient expects," Wilson countered.

"We'll just have to learn to expect the unexpected," Stacy agreed.

Cuddy shook her head. "We will, but not our patients. He'll do what he has to do, for everyone involved. And I know it's been like this before, but if he can't quit, then he can't quit."

Stacy left them after lunch and returned to her own office, to mull over things in private. She knew how irritated Mark was, how much he genuinely needed some time to take a load off and relax. Picking up the phone, she called and made a reservation at a local Chinese place, for seven o'clock. Maybe they could talk things over, just the two of them. The first step on the road to recovery, she thought. Someone had to make it, and it looked like she'd be making it for them both.

After she'd finalized the reservation, she dialed her home number. Mark didn't pick up on the first try, so she called again, knowing he was probably home in front of the television. He did pick up on the second call, apparently surprised to hear from her.

"Hey sweetie. I've got a surprise for you," she started. "How's the day been?"

Mark sighed. "Peachy keen and uneventful," he said. "What's the surprise?"

"Well," Stacy started, "You were saying that you wanted us to get out more and do exciting things, so I thought tonight we could go to that new Chinese place we heard about. I've got us a seven o'clock reservation, nice, relaxing sit-down dinner, uninterrupted, just you and me. I feel like we never talk anymore. I think it'll be nice."

There was a pause on the other end before Mark responded. "Yeah, sure, that sounds like fun." The enthusiasm that she'd looked for in his voice was lacking, but Stacy tried not to let that dissuade her.

"I'll come home right after work and pick you up, "she said. "Clean yourself up if you're not already." He agreed, and hung up the phone, leaving Stacy dangling, unfulfilled, on the other end. She'd hoped for a warmer reception, but that would come with time. She'd make sure he had a good time. It would, as he'd said before, be good for her. It'd be good for them both.