House trembled for a while as he kept a tight grip around Cuddy, like he was hanging on for dear life. After he dozed off and relaxed, she was able to wriggle loose and get some air. Calmness returned to the room and to House as he finally settled into a somewhat restful sleep, his chin scratching her neck and shoulder. Whatever scared him so badly was gone for the moment.

A cool breeze fluttered against the window shades, folding itself with the whisper of his breathing. The only other movement in the room was Cuddy quietly stroking his neck, willing the calm to remain and the nightmares to stay away. It was the first time she had seen House really and truly frightened. Something she hoped to never see again. But some primal sense told her that simple wishing wasn't going to keep it at bay, like shutting the closet door to make the monster disappear.

Cuddy wanted to stay there all day and give him the comfort he turned to her for, just lay there and feel his breath on her neck and his heart beat with hers. No chance. There was work to be done by a responsible adult. She couldn't play hooky today. Maybe in a few weeks, but not today. She untangled herself from his embrace and reached for the phone. Before hanging up, she could feel him looking at her, his eyes glittering in the warm light.

"I'm already an hour late," she said as she hung up, not turning around.

"Yes, you are," House said coolly, no any mocking or humor in his voice. There was nothing to mock that morning.

Cuddy slipped off the bed and picked up her clothes. House turned and stretched across the bed. "You're late too," she said, buttoning up her crumpled blouse.

"I know."

"You will be there." It wasn't a question.

"I will."

"I mean it, Greg," she told him tersely, not in the mood to play around.

"Of course you do," he said, though only his eyes moved as they followed her out the bedroom door.


She caught sight of House a few times. He was caught up in his newest case, barking orders at his underlings. He looked no worse for the wear as he marched up and down the corridor as fast as his damaged leg would allow, focused on solving a new mystery, a new puzzle. That put her mind at ease for the rest of the day.

An indigo sky had pushed the sun down by the time the Dean of Medicine stepped up to 221B, the shiny black gym bag over her shoulder.

"Hey," House said with a smile as he let her in. He looked a little tired. His eyes stopped on the gym bag. "Moving in?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Sort of," she answered and pivoted to the bedroom.

House followed and found his lover hanging up a few blouses and power suits in his closet. Then she stuffed some of his jeans and shirts into the bag. "Something we should have done months ago," Cuddy answered his quizzical look, zipping up the bag and dropping it on the floor.

"Still stealing my clothes," he said, sitting at the foot of the bed, resting his chin on the cane.

"I don't see you stopping me." Cuddy settled next to him.

"I never said I wanted to. I'm just calling you a thief."

She laughed quietly, then cut to the chase. "What happened last night?"

"I had a nightmare." House answered simply.

"It scared you."

"That's what nightmares do. They scare people. That's why they're called nightmares."

"What was it about?"

"I don't remember."

"Really?"

"I don't remember," he repeated, starting to get frustrated at her questions.

"I think you're lying."

"Maybe I am. Does it matter?"

"You know I'm here if you want to talk about it." Cuddy told him. "I'm here for you no matter what."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to."

"All right," she said. "If you change your mind..."

"You're here," he replied, reaching for the hand on his shoulder. "I know."