The soft hum of the engine mixed with the pleasing sound of rain pattering the glass. Cuddy frowned, trying for a moment to go back to sleep. But then she thought of House, driving on and on without anyone to keep him company. Sitting there with a bum leg, not even listening to the radio... Why wasn't he listening to the radio?

The car kept moving, but there was no annoying interchange of sunlight and shadows on her eyelids. She had slept the whole day? Her eyes came quickly open and she found herself looking at a hard rain, illuminated by the headlights. It was pitch-black outside. Ahead of them was the single red glow of a dying tail light.

"Where are we?" she greeted him.

"No idea," he said, as he adjusted the brilliance of the headlights. "Could be anywhere."

"What did I say about making jokes?" she mumbled, sitting up and brushing his coat down to her lap.

"Oh, it's no joke. I am...so fucking lost," he said with a light chuckle.

"Can't you navigate?"

"Sure. Not while I'm driving. I tried, but I went off into the other lane; I'm surprised the horn didn't wake you. I was starting to think someone had put something lethal in your burrito. Course, by someone, I don't mean me," he added, when she just continued to stare at him.

Seeing the humor on his face, she frowned. "You don't need to make up for lost time. You're not losing me."

He mulled her words, and finally growled, "Kelowna."

"Good."

"We got Piss Creek and Derrière coming up in three hours."

"Can you read?" she inquired, taking the map.

"No, you kidding? That goes hand-in-hand with writing!"

She shook her head, smiling despite herself. "A professional comedian would know when to stop."

"A professional comedian is appreciated."

He could feel her staring at him again. Perhaps several years too late, he cut the jokes and focused on driving in silence. She focused, as she always did, on the reasons he wouldn't lose her while she tried to get comfortable enough to fall back asleep. No sooner had she closed her eyes did her cell phone go off. With a groan, she again located her hands, pulling out her phone. "Hey, Cameron. He is?" she added, and looked at her stone-faced chauffeur. "Good. Well, that was a wasted trip." She paused again, briefly, biting her lip. "Not important. We'll be there, well...tomorrow," she concluded, her eyes taking in the surrounding darkness. "Yeah. Tell Kayla to put him on a leash." She paused again, frowning out of her window. "Wow, relax. Whose boyfriend is he?"

Then Cuddy hung up, shaking her head. "She swore at me!"

"Yeah, see...Cameron falls in love with everyone."

Cuddy was in the middle of grimacing at him when her car suddenly banged into the rear of the vehicle ahead. Rocked forward, she broke eye contact as she belatedly and inadvertently braced herself against the dash.

"Oops," House said. He glanced at the back of the car, watching the tail light sputter and go dark, fading into the night.

Then the car door swung open and a man exited the vehicle. Seeing the driver walking with a cane and a limp, House raised his hands and let them thump against the wheel. "Are you kidding me?"

Her lips pursed, Cuddy looked down and wouldn't say anything; only watching as House began to get out of the car. He used the door as a shield as he quickly gathered words. "Sorry, sir. I...took my eyes off the road for one minute, I shouldn't have, but I didn't think you were stopped." As he spoke, he looked down at the smashed-up backside of the Subaru Outback, and emitted a quiet scoff. "Was that all me?"

Instead of responding, the man took two steps forward and swung his cane into House's, knocking it out of his hand. House paused, attempting to comprehend what had just happened while shifting his weight onto his left leg. "I would expect you would have more compassion for a cripple. The fact that you don't..." He shook his head. "Very cold, sir."

"How much compassion do you think I should have for your partner in crime?"

"What?" House asked, and then he heard the sound of a car door opening behind him. He turned to see another man reaching into the car and grabbing Cuddy by the arm—

Then a sharp, blunt object that was familiarly cane-like struck the back of his head.

It was still dark when House awakened, to a powerful headache. He stared up at a pitch-black sky, visible in patches through the treetops. It was a clear night...visibly, at least. Mentally, he was a mess. The last thing he remembered was a car wreck. But he couldn't remember if it was his. It would definitely explain the neuralgia throttling the sense out of his best feature. Was the damage to the car because of him? Had he been thrown through the windshield? He raised an arm, sluggish, but not sore, and felt around his face and forehead. His fingers came back dry. Dry—but a lot dirtier than he remembered them being.

Cuddy... He remembered being with Cuddy. Without another thought, he rolled over onto his side and started searching for his cane. Whatever had happened, he wasn't on the road. Beneath him there was only grass.

Not finding his cane, he rolled onto his back again and stared up at the leaves above, framed in moonlight. His vision played tricks on him, blurring and doubling. But he didn't have the time to be bothered by it. He had to find Cuddy; he refused to die until he knew she was safe. With a groan of effort, he rolled onto his other side and continued exploring the cold grass with desperate hands.

Nothing... No cane. Not there, either. He let out a throaty shout as he struggled to sit up. He felt his torso rocking slowly as he peered into the dark, looking for the reflective surface of his cane, shining in the moonlight. His vision still played tricks on him; it looked like there was a translucent figure sitting on a rock not too far away. Everything doubled and blurred from whatever trauma he sustained. Again, he felt his head, looking for blood that was not there. Sure felt like it should be.

"Stop moving."

House raised his eyes to the translucent figure. Now all too real in her manifestation, Amber shrugged at him. "Breathe...and think," she added. "What do you hear?"

House had to hold his breath before he could find the answer. Behind him, he could hear Cuddy's engine, running idle.

"Your cane isn't here, House," Amber told him. "The only reason you are is because they wanted you to suffer."

"Why?" he growled.

Amber shrugged at him; her hair falling over her doctor's coat. "He called Cuddy your partner in crime... Maybe that means something."

"Of course it means something. Everything means something."

Then he was overcome with the terrifying sensation that there was another person to his right side. He quickly looked up, and froze when he caught sight of Kutner.

"What do you think this means?"

"Delirium. Psychosis. Head trauma," House growled.

"Guilt?" Amber inquired, and raised her eyebrows. "You did sort of kill me."

"I did not."

"You killed me, too, House," Kutner said, staring at him unblinkingly. "I couldn't get away from you otherwise."

House leaned a little, pushing on the ground and getting onto his hands and knees; then attempted to stand on one good leg. "I didn't kill either of you," he said. "And you would know it, if you had your own brains to use instead of leeching off mine."

His vision blurred again and he stumbled, catching his balance.

"If you're using your brain right now, I'd hate to see you having a slow day," Kutner mused.

"Don't worry about me, dead man." House leaned against the ground, looking up at Cuddy's headlights; though not the particular pair he wanted to observe. He tried three times to climb out of the ditch, but his right leg refused to cooperate, whether it was dominant or dormant. He emitted a growling sigh, looking up again at the soft glow of light.

"What the hell's plan B?" Amber inquired. "Lay down and die?"

"There has to be a way out."

"You can't walk, House," Kutner said. "You're broken."

House turned around, leaning his back on the slope and scanning the forest floor. He couldn't walk, and yet he had run. That baby's life didn't mean half as much to him as Cuddy's. His face twisting in agony, he began to limp slowly through the forest. He kept his eyes on the ground, looking for a stick; maybe a stick-shaped protrusion under the fallen leaves. Though traps, waiting to snare a victim, were not the furthest thing from his mind... But when he raised his eyes again, he found himself surrounded by ghosts. Amber, Kutner, Wilson, Thirteen, Foreman, Taub. Everybody, he noticed, except for Cuddy.

"You didn't forget her face, did you?" Thirteen asked.

"I forgot yours. You still managed to show up just to piss me off."

She looked over at him, gracing him with her smile. "No I didn't."

House returned his attention to the bleak journey ahead, and limped along in silence through the haunted woods. He could hear their whispers mixing in the night. He could hear the phantom sound of a beeper going off, as a visual hallucination received the auditory hallucination of a page. He could see the mirage of Addams reaching into her pocket. Strange, how her hand was still empty when she liberated it from her coat. Her eyes, lifeless and empty, flicked up to the bleak journey ahead.

Finally happening upon a gradual slope up to the road, House leaned forward as he ascended with heavy steps, longing for a rail, concrete steps, and some damn solitude.

"Don't you think you should have called 911 or something?" Park trumpeted.

"I'm fine."

"You're digging your own grave."

With one last push of inner strength, he surged out of the ditch and onto the moonlit road; where he stood alone. He paused for a minute, wiping his face with shaking hands, knowing that he still had an arduous walk on the road to complete. With every step he took, he wondered if they had taken her. What they could be doing to her right now. He cringed from the thought—but it wouldn't stop crossing his mind.

Torture? Rape? Had they beaten her with his cane? Just thinking of the possibilities made his blood boil. If they'd used his cane to bring her harm, or worse... It would always be tainted.

Finally reaching the car, he leaned against it as soon as it was within arm length. His cane wasn't even on the road. Breathing hard, he came up to the driver's side and lowered himself slowly onto the edge of his seat. Scooting backwards, he swung his legs inside and quietly clicked the car off. The engine went quiet and the lights snapped off. Sitting there in the dark, all he could hear were his breaths.

Glancing over, he startled a bit at the sight of a person in the passenger seat. A tall brunette. Expecting to see Addams, he wondered briefly why she wasn't talking to him; then scooted over and brushed away the veil of hair obscuring her face. The sensual side profile of Cuddy's face evoked a feeling in his chest he thought was long dead.

He reached across her limp body and brushed the hair off the right side of her face. Even in the dark, he could see the bruise across her eye and neck. An insurmountable fury that would only be conquered by revenge made his hands shake. Still he managed to surprise himself with his own gentleness as he felt for a pulse and touched her face.

Then he leaned over and shattered the peace by slamming the driver side door shut. She didn't even stir, which bothered him. He locked all the car doors and scooted close to her, needing the reassurance of her heartbeat. He placed a protective arm across her and gave in to a deep exhaustion, comforted only by the knowledge that she was alive.

Awareness began as a question, struggling to formulate in the dark. There was no rain, but there was light. As her mind and body woke, she realized there was also the weight of a body leaning on her. She lifted her head and opened her eyes, finding herself looking at House's sleeve. No way. She turned her head to look at him, but all she could see was the bruise on his cheek.

"House. Wake up."

He scowled in displeasure. "Leave me alone, Amber," he grunted, and turned his head into Cuddy's neck. The pressure against his cheek had him waking up fast, and he pulled away with a grunt, opening his eyes to a most welcome and least anticipated face. Continuing to groan, he dug out his Vicodin and poured some pills into his hand. Cuddy lifted her head, frowning when she saw that he was going to take four.

"Whoa, stop," she began, and shut her mouth when he only took half. He kept his hand out and said nothing when she took the remaining pills, looking at him in bewilderment. "Uh—thank you?"

"We've been out cold for five hours," he growled. "Find a nice bush, take care of business, and then we're driving hard."

Cuddy twisted in her seat and House was surprised when she didn't unlock the door. Instead, she reached down between it and her seat, retrieving his cane and handing it to him.

He grabbed it eagerly, like it was another chance to save the friend he lost. "Thank you," he echoed.

Now leaning out of the vehicle, she tossed an elegant "Yep" over her shoulder. Standing up, she closed the car door and straightened her shirt, limping away from the vehicle. He exited as well to take his own advice, moving even slower. Yet she was still absent when he returned. He sat back down and closed the door, laying his cane between it and his seat; honked the horn; and tried to relax as he thought about last night. Most of it was fuzzy, but now in retrospect, one thing did stand out to him—the Subaru. He'd seen it before, and he could even remember when. He was staring off into the distance ahead, wondering if their attackers from last night were "even worse than killers."

Whatever that meant. Then a ringtone broke into his thoughts, and having never heard it before, he went into Cuddy's jacket and retrieved her phone, answering it when he saw who was on the caller ID. "Hello?" he said, and cringed away with a scoff.

For some reason, Cameron only spoke after he had switched the phone to his other ear. "What's wrong?"

"Ah, I got into a fight."

"House, why do you do this to yourself?"

"I didn't do anything! Well, I-I rear-ended the guy, but I didn't lay a hand on him."

"But you pushed him, didn't you?"

"Would you believe me if I said no?" he answered.

"No. Why am I talking to you and not Cuddy?"

He sighed into the receiver. "She's indisposed at the moment. And by the way, they beat her up, too," he announced, and listened to the sudden silence on the other end. "Still think it was justified?"

She was still so quiet, the static was the only thing that kept him from hanging up. Finally she made a stammering sound. "Is she okay?"

House heard footsteps then, and twisted in his seat. "Yeah," he said, wondering why he didn't sound as relieved as he felt.

"Good. House?"

"Yeah."

"Logan and Kayla went back to the cabin. And I lost the hearing, so I went with them."

He was quiet for a moment, as Cuddy got into the vehicle, then finally asked, "How?"

"I don't know how."

Crap, she was emotional again. Thankfully he had the perfect response. "Uh, the good news is, you can talk to Cuddy now. Hang on." He pushed the phone her way and she rolled her eyes at him, finally closing the passenger door. As she took the call, House grinned at her and started the car.