The next several days drifted into each other, marked only with the sound of the alarm clock to announce that a new day had in fact arrived. Everything looked distant and cloudy, wrapped in a dull grey fog that never wanted to lift. Every day was the same. There was no end in sight. Monotony reigned and Cuddy was the Queen.

Thinking of their relationship. Thinking over the consequences, if any, of the negative pregnancy test. Was that House's fault? Not hardly. Is there anything she can do about it? Not right this moment. Now was not the time to get all sullen about it now. Later, when she could shed some tears in private. Okay, fine. Next, please. Oh boy, more thinking. Cuddy was tired of thinking; then it hit her as to why–she was bored and lonely. House was right; now she knew how he felt all too well. No wonder he had nearly gone insane when she was in Des Plains. It was either go insane or die of loneliness.

Face it, Lisa. You need him just as much as he needs you.

There were quick glimpses in the parking lot and corridor, fingers touching when a file was passed, eye contact when Cuddy gave House an order and he gave an acidic barb before limping back to his office. Those few and far between moments weren't enough. Not nearly enough. She wanted to pick up where they left off, and she knew that House was waiting for her to make that move. And she wasn't about to disappoint him.

Purple twilight reached across the sky by the time she stepped up to 221B. The sound of the piano filtered through the door; she had heard it out in the street. Several sharp, loud knocks and the music stopped, replaced by faint footsteps.

House opened the door and smiled down at her. Not smug, just pleased and satisfied. "Hello there," the diagnostician said as he held the door open for her. "Long time, no see."

"Too long." Cuddy breezed in and threw her purse on the couch. "I could use a drink."

"Follow me," he said, and turned to the kitchen. Cuddy followed, almost beating him to the liquor cabinet.

He poured a bourbon for her and a scotch for himself, then clinked the glasses before taking a long sip. "It's nice see you, Lisa. I was getting a little worried."

"Just a little?" She smiled for the first time that evening.

"Just a little tiny bit. I was going to give you until morning, then go to the police to file a missing person's report."

"Did you ever have any doubt that I wouldn't come back to see you?"

"Nope. On the off chance you didn't make it to my door it was because someone or something stopped you, not because you didn't want to be here. I'm usually not wrong about these things, but stranger things have happened."

Cuddy paused to rinse out her glass before saying, "I missed you."

"I know," he replied. There was a touch of sadness in his words. His usual smugness seemed to have been given the night off. The sincere Gregory House was making a rare appearance. Good, Cuddy had missed him too.

"I finally knew how you felt, exactly how you felt, and I didn't like it."

"No, you didn't," he said. Not teasing her, just pointing out a fact.

"You do understand that I never had any intention of leaving."

"It'll take more than a few bumps and potholes to make you go running the other way, Lisa. You're the best thing that happened to me in a long, long time and I'm not about you slip through my fingers. I like to think that you have more than a little class and integrity. "

"Me too," she said.

He smiled and took her hand. "How about it, boss? Shall we pick up where we left off?"

"That's just what I was going to say," she said with a gasp. "How did you know that?"

"I didn't, not exactly. I knew you coming here to get things on an even keel again. You took your time and made sure no stone was unturned. Otherwise you would have come early, unable to put off the inevitable, and tried to make as quick and painless as possible because that's what I deserve."

"Very perceptive, Greg."

"That's one of things you love so much about me."

"One of the many, many things," Cuddy slipped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. "You've been doing some thinking, too."

"Thinking and playing the piano," he said, rubbing the small of her back, "waiting for you to knock on the door. I had nothing else to do."

"What were you thinking about?"

"How much I hate to sleep alone."

"Any nightmares?"

"No. I've had more important things to worry about. Nightmares don't count anymore."

"I'm glad to hear that." She looked up at him. "What were you playing before I knocked on the door?"

"'Die Forelle' by Franz Liszt."

"Would you care to play it for me?"

"Sure. C'mon, I have something for you."

They walked to the piano, hand in hand, and House slid carefully into the seat. A brown paper bag was resting on the seat beside him. He picked the bag up, noticing Cuddy eyeing it, and handed it to her with a sly, knowing grin. "The perfect gift for a woman of such class and integrity. Diamonds are for commoners and shrews, this here is the stuff of legends."

He began to play as she opened the bag. She laughed, cheeks blushing with pink, and held up her perfect gift–a new Jack Daniels tee-shirt.