If it was possible, Cuddy was feeling worse by the middle of the next morning than she had the night before. The six nights of poor sleep were starting to catch up with her energy level, and to top it all off she had only been at work for an hour and had already puked twice. When she was in the middle of her second trip to the bathroom, she heard someone knock on her office door and let themselves in.

"Who is it?" Cuddy asked weakly.

"It's me," said Wilson, and noticing her tone added, "Are you ok in there?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Be out in a minute," she added, trying to pull herself together. Carefully making her way back into the office, Cuddy took a few deep breaths and seated herself comfortably in her desk chair. "What's up, James?" she asked, trying much too hard to sound nonchalant.

"You don't sound 'fine' to me, Lisa. In fact, you haven't seemed fine all week… what's going on with you?" Wilson wondered, genuinely concerned.

"Oh, I'm just fighting some kind of a bug, I guess," she answered unconvincingly.

"Make sure you're re-hydrating yourself from that vomiting, when you're able to. Dehydration can spiral out of control pretty fast if you don't stay on top of it…" Wilson began, but Cuddy interrupted him.

"James, this may come as a surprise, but I went to medical school, too," she said snidely, so much so that Wilson would have thought she was talking to Gregory House.

Wilson smiled, gestured a "surrender," and said, "Ok, ok, but I would have considered myself a pretty poor friend if I didn't try to look out for you a little. I know you can take care of yourself… but I also know taking care of an infant by yourself can take its toll."

Cuddy, smiling genuinely for the first time that day, said "Thank you, James. Now, really what did you need?"

"Oh, I finished the oncology budget for next quarter. You told me to have it finished by today," Wilson said as he placed the file on Cuddy's desk.

Cuddy accepted it gratefully. "Thanks, it doesn't surprise me one bit that you're the first department head to have yours ready… and since I asked for it to be ready at the end of this week, I'm sure that means I'll have diagnostics' astronomical budget on my desk sometime before…"

"…Easter," Wilson interjected, without missing a beat.

Cuddy laughed, but it didn't sit too well with her sensitive digestive state, and almost immediately she was making run number three for the bathroom attached to her office.

"Cuddy," Wilson called out, "I'm going back upstairs, but seriously, if that doesn't stop in the next hour or so, go down to the ER and have Cameron check you out. And push the fluids!" he added emphatically as he closed the door behind him.

"That's a laugh," Cuddy thought to herself. "We give that simple bit of advice to patients every day… but how do you push fluids when everything you put in your mouth refuses to be digested?" She thought another moment as she washed her hands for the umpteenth time that day and answered her own question. "I.V. fluids… but let's hope I'm not to that point yet." She walked back to her desk, hoping to finally accomplish some work before she would inevitably be interrupted by her favorite least-favorite employee.

Lunchtime was fast approaching, but Cuddy was sure she wasn't anywhere near ready to attempt food. She found a vending machine near the lobby with Gatorade, for which she was very thankful, because the very thought of entering the olfactory offensiveness of the hospital cafeteria made Cuddy picture herself praying to the porcelain god yet again. So, focusing on hydration, she worked through the lunch hour compiling all of the departmental budgets that had found their way onto her desk. Just as Cuddy thought her body was starting to recalibrate, she found that House had unceremoniously let himself into her office and was making his way toward her desk.

"Can I help you?" Cuddy asked wearily, not bothering to look up from her work.

"That depends," House retorted, "How much lower can your top go in the next 30 seconds?"

Cuddy looked up, and to House's surprise, she looked far too defeated for so early in the conversation. "House, I'm in no mood. Now seriously, tell me what you want so that you can leave and go irritate someone else."

Well geez, this is no fun, thought House. He decided to play along… for the time being, anyway.

"I came to tell you the budget that's supposed to be finished by today won't be finished until… sometime next week. I have a really cool patient who's bleeding in all kinds of interesting places, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to be incredibly busy until we figure out what's causing it…" he paused, noticed she wasn't even paying attention to him, then went on, "… unless the budget is more important than him bleeding out and his family suing the hospital for bazillions of dollars…"

"Fine House, whatever you need to do," Cuddy said absentmindedly, which was not her usual demeanor at all. House, not accustomed to this lack of attention from her, impatiently put his cane up on to her desk and gave a couple of not-so-gentle raps.

"Hello… me, head of diagnostic medicine, totally disregarding your deadline for the budget… no reproach? No lecture? No…" House would have kept on going, but Cuddy cut through him.

"No House, no reproach, no lecture, no indulgence of your adolescent demand for negative attention. Not today. Go figure out your patient, go play with your toys, go pester Cameron or Wilson or Chase. Do whatever you're gonna do, but go do it somewhere else that isn't my office," and for effect, Cuddy stood and added a plaintive, "Please!"

He didn't like being told to "go to his room," even though he was acting like a child, but House was glad he had finally gotten to Cuddy enough that her eyes flashed at him challengingly and that her face looked like it was beginning to flush.

"Why Cuddy, no need to get your thong in a twist. I'd be more than happy to go down to conference room B and chat up all those potential donors who came for the complimentary luncheon today…" House knew just where to hit, as if Cuddy needed any more issues in the general area of her belt. And she was getting angrier by the second! In fact, she looked out of breath.

"Why… do you… always… have to be… such an…" But before Cuddy could pant out the rest of her admonishment, she was silently slumped over on her desk. Shocked, House made a B-line for the door and yelled for the clinic nurses and a gurney to take Cuddy to the ER. He was trying to get a reaction out of Cuddy, but nothing he was playing at involved her being unconscious.