It was so mind-numbingly slow in the clinic that day that it took Cuddy a few minutes to notice she was there. A little girl of about 7 years old, with dark hair and eyes, was standing in the middle of the clinic all by herself. She was clinging to a small crocheted rabbit that looked like it was about to fall apart.

"Hello, honey. Did you lose your mommy?" she asked softly. The little girl raised her eyes to Cuddy's and Cuddy was startled to notice the bruise along the girl's jaw. The little girl didn't answer.

"Are you hurt?" Cuddy asked. Again, no answer. Cuddy gently lifted the child and sat her down on the receptionist's desk. The girl followed Cuddy with her eyes, but didn't speak or move. Cuddy pulled over one of the nurses bustling through the room.

"Did this little girl come in with anyone?" she asked.

"No, I didn't see anyone. I didn't even know she was here," the nurse answered, frowning at the girl. The girl watched with the same passionless expression. Cuddy sighed and picked the girl up and balanced her on her hip.

"I'll take a look at her. Do me a favor and call Child Services?" she asked. The nurse nodded and Cuddy trundled the child into an exam room.

"I'm Dr. Cuddy. Can you tell me your name?" she asked. The girl just stared at her. As Cuddy set her down on the exam table, she noticed a small amount of blood seeping through the knee of the girl's worn jeans. When she went to look at it, the girl whimpered and squirmed away, clutching her rabbit in a death grip. A quick inspection found fragments of pavement embedded in the fabric. Now that she was looking, Cuddy noticed small pebbles and dirt in the child's hair and clothing.

"Oh, did you fall outside? Is that why you're here? Can I have a look?" Cuddy said. She reached for the girl's leg, but the child squirmed away again.

"Can I see your leg?" Cuddy asked gently. The girl pushed her hands away. Cuddy sighed. There was a polite knock on the door.

"Yes?" she said. James Wilson poked his head in the room.

"Hey, Cuddy…" was as far as he got. The girl let out a blood-curling shriek and dove off the table. Cuddy grabbed her before she bodily hit the floor, but the girl struggled insanely. The struggle threw Cuddy off-balance and she crashed to the tiles, her head glancing off the exam table. Stars sparked and flashed before her eyes for a moment and she thought her head would burst from the screaming and the pain. Suddenly, it stopped. Wilson was holding the girl, who now lay limp in his arms. His face was so pale Cuddy thought he might faint.

"What did I do?" he gasped slowly, staring at the unresponsive bundle in his arms. The door burst open and a familiar face made Cuddy want to groan in dismay.

"What is going on in here? I'm trying to sleep in the next room!" House shouted. Then he took in the scene before him and frowned in concern.

"What happened?" he asked, hobbling forward to pull Cuddy to her feet.

"The kid just went berserk," Wilson sputtered. By now they had quite an audience; just about everyone in the clinic –or the whole hospital- had heard the little girl screaming and had come to look. Wilson was checking the child's vitals.

"She hasn't fainted," he said dumbly. House sighed and checked the girl.

"She isn't even unconscious. She's playing dead," he said, puzzled. He went to take the child from Wilson and the girl squeaked when he touched her. House turned back to Cuddy, handing her the limp girl.

"She's been molested. She only reacted when she saw men. She's playing dead because Wilson is holding her. Get psych, child services, and the cops," House said. He suddenly cocked his head to the side, and turned the girl's face so he could see it. He also touched the stuffed animal and the girl flinched away from him.

"Cuddy, this is Amy Culler," he said quietly. The girl stirred.

"Who?" Cuddy asked. House backed up a little, and the girl relaxed.

"She disappeared from New York City two days ago. Her picture's been all over the news and she always has this grubby rag with her. Jesus, Cuddy, don't you watch the news?" House snapped.

"No."

"Well, have one of the nurses call the cops," House ordered as he hobbled out, taking a still-pale, shaken Wilson with him.

"And she's deaf," House said over his shoulder, before he left a shocked Cuddy and Wilson with the child.