Before I begin- this is set just before the House's Head episode in Season 4. In my version, House has just narrowed his fellows down to the final 3 (Taub, Kutner, Thirteen) and Foreman has come back onto his staff. The key difference between this and canon is that instead of moving in with Amber, Wilson has bought his own place, having been unceremoniously dumped by Amber right after she gave him her ultimatum of 'Me or House.'
---
'Where can I find Dr Gregory House?' I asked the woman at the front desk of the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.
'It's 2 PM, he should be in the clinic, right through there. Be aware that it's a walk-in clinic, so you may have to wait if you want to see a specific doctor.'
'That's fine.' I turned and went through the door she had indicated, signed the register, picked up one of the forms that patients had to fill out and sat down on one of the typically uncomfortable chairs that lined the generic waiting room. Filling out a medical history and waiting for the name I had signed to be called, I considered again if this was a good idea or not. Realistically, what did I have to lose?
Then again, what did I have to gain?
Twenty minutes later, I had no choice. I heard the nurse call the name I'd signed on the register.
'Exam room two, Dr House will be with you in a moment.'
The dark-haired nurse in pink scrubs pointed to the door labelled 'TWO' and went back behind the desk, seeming somewhat exasperated.
I went into the room, considering my options for a place to sit. There was the bench in the corner which had a paper cover on it, the usual place for a patient to take a seat, but there was also a small swivelling stool on wheels in the corner next to the desk.
I sat on the stool, pulled a pen out of my pocket and started doodling on one of the tongue depressors that I'd pulled out of the jar.
'Miss... Cuddy?' he asked, somewhat incredulous, as he entered the room a few minutes later. He looked up, a half-smile on his face as he tapped the door closed with his cane.
'Are you serious? Any relation to the Dean of Medicine?'
'I just put Cuddy on the form to get your attention.'
He cocked an eyebrow.
'Why would you want to get my attention?'
'I needed to make sure that you were the doctor who saw me. I knew that if I put Cuddy on the form that you wouldn't be able to resist finding out if I was her sister or niece or something like that. Besides, Lisa told me that would probably be the best way to get what I want.'
'So you do know her.'
'We go way back.'
He leaned his cane against the exam bench and pulled himself up onto it, considering me, spinning his cane between his fingers.
'Who are you?'
'Jane Cuddy. Well, I suppose, if you won't believe that, I'm Jane Doe to you. My name isn't important, yet.'
'Why did you need to see me?' he was jiggling one foot, his left, and I noticed that his right hand was massaging his thigh.
'Sore?'
He stopped rubbing his leg and looked up at me.
'Not really.'
He slid a hand into his coat pocket, and I heard the familiar rattle of a pill bottle being shaken.
'You're lying. What are you taking for the pain?'
'Vicodin.' He extracted the bottle and showed it to me, popping the lid and downing a pill.
'What level of pain are we talking?'
'About a six, maybe a seven.' he told me, somewhat grudgingly. 'You still didn't answer my question.'
'I needed to see you about...' I paused, unsure of how to word this so that he wouldn't dismiss me at once.
I cleared my throat to cover the pause. 'I need to talk to you about my father.'
He looked at me, the eyebrow raised again.
'And who might he be, and why would I care?'
'His name is James Wilson. From what I've been told, you're his best friend.'
He stared at me for a long moment.
'You're... Wilson's kid?'
'That's what my birth certificate says. So does the DNA test that Dr Cuddy ran for me earlier this week.'
'You're what, 22, 23?'
'Twenty seven, actually, but thanks.'
'Wilson's only forty six, and his first marriage wasn't until he was started his internship.'
'He met my mom in college. They were together for a while, but she broke it off when he had his finals- she didn't want to be a distraction while he was trying to get into medical school.'
He kept staring at me, after about a minute it got unnerving. I was staring at the floor, the point where his cane was bouncing against the linoleum.
'Your dad bought me this.' he told me, indicating the cane. 'His dog chewed the handle off my old one, so I made him get me the most bitchin cane I could find.'
I was surprised how easily he accepted the fact that I was Dr Wilson's daughter. He kept studying me as I looked more closely at the cane, noticing the flames at the base.
'How come you don't think I'm lying?' I asked. 'I could just be saying this to get your attention. Pulling a scam.'
'You have his eyes.' He said plainly.
'Don't you want to know why I came to you before I went to him?'
'Don't care. Maybe you wanted to know what he'd be like from meeting me, maybe you're scared. Doesn't affect me.' He leaned over grabbed a paper cup from the dispenser, pouring himself some water and considering me from behind the lip of the cup.
I scooted over to the water cooler and poured my own drink, my mouth suddenly dry.
'Dr Cuddy told me not to judge him by you. In fact, she said that you were practically his polar opposite.'
He kept looking at me, his piercing blue eyes seeming to bore a hole through me. I remained silent for another minute, watching his expression, knowing that his curiosity would get the better of him eventually.
'Why did you look him up all of a sudden?'
'My mom died a few years ago. I always knew his name, but it's not like James Wilson is an unusual name. I had his middle name, too, but it wasn't until I found out which medical school he went to that I could narrow it down much farther, but after that all his positions were matters of public record. That's why I arranged to meet Dr Cuddy, and asked her to do the DNA test for me.'
'So Cuddy did all this, and told you about me, but didn't tell Wilson that he's got a twentysomething daughter?'
'I asked her not to. I'm planning on seeing him in the next few days.'
'I can page him right now if you'd like.' House started to dig in another pocket, pulling out a cell phone.
'Not right now!' I tried to inject some urgency into my voice and I must have succeeded, he looked up at me, finger poised on the 'call' button.
'Why not? You think a few days are going to make the shock any better? Personally, I'd want to tell him as soon as I could, especially after speaking to me. After all, I'm his best friend, who knows what I might let slip.'
I looked at him, and realised that he was definitely the kind of person to let something like this 'slip', just so he could see what kind of reaction he could get.
'You want to see what he does when he finds out.' I said, standing up from the stool and crossing the room, dropping my cup into the bin next to the door and leaning against the jamb, considering the gray-haired man sitting on the exam table.
He looked over at me, taking another sip from his cup before crumpling it up and tossing it towards me.
'Hell yeah! This is the kind of thing I've been waiting for since I met Wilson! I knew he had some skeletons in the closet, but had no idea that they were so good looking.'
I rolled my eyes, hearing the sarcasm, and nodded at his phone.
'Page him, but don't tell him who I am over the phone. You can be here for it, but you're not the one telling him.'
'I can't tell him anyway, you still haven't told me what your name is.'
'I knew there was a reason to keep that information to myself.' I grinned at him as he hit a speed dial button.
'Wilson? It's House. I need a consult in the Clinic. Exam room...' he looked at me, apparently blank.
I held up two fingers and mouthed 'Two.'
'Two. And hurry it up.'
I heard a tiny voice through the speakers, starting to object.
'Come on. Either you come down here or we come up to your office.'
His brow wrinkled as the voice kept objecting.
'Okay then, fine. She'll be in myoffice until you deem her important enough to talk to.'
He snapped the phone shut.
'Looks like you're coming upstairs. Follow me.' He slid his phone back into his pocket, swung himself off the bench and followed me out of the exam room, grabbing the case notes from the holder next to the door as we left.
He paused at the nurse's station to let them know that we were going to see another doctor for a consultation.
'Shouldn't your patient be in a wheelchair if she's being admitted?' the nurse asked.
'She's not being admitted, she's coming upstairs with me. Besides, I'm the cripple, so no, I'm not pushing her up to Wilson's office in a wheelchair. She can walk, better than I can, so she will.'
I smiled at the nurse, who just dismissed us as a pair of nuts, then followed House towards the elevators.
We were waiting for ours to descend when he asked a question, not looking at me.
'You said that you're twenty seven?'
'Yes, I did.'
'Most kids look for their missing parents when theystart college, after they've finished. Especially absent, doctor dads. Why now?'
'I didn't even know he was a doctor until about a year ago- too late to ask for college money when you're six months off paying out your student loans. I decided to wait until I had myself covered financially before I looked too seriously, the last thing I want is him to think I'm only after money.'
'That would make you vastly different to practically every other woman he's had in his life. In a good way.' House told me as the elevator arrived. He limped in after me, and I noticed that nobody else who had been waiting joined us in the box. He used his cane to push the 'three' button and the doors closed with a woosh.
---
We walked along a hallway, glass walls allowing a view of offices and wards, and House led me through a glass door with his name and 'DEPARTMENT OF DIAGNOSTIC MEDICINE' stencilled on at eye level.
'Diagnostic medicine, hey? Your profile says that your specialty is infectious diseases.'
He spun around at that, halfway across his office.
'One of my specialties, yes, but I'm a diagnostician by nature. Have a seat.' He gestured to the chair next to his desk as he walked around it, sitting down himself and picking up an over sized red and grey tennis ball in his left hand.
He considered me for a moment, before leaning backwards and lifting the receiver of his phone. He hit a speed dial and wedged the receiver between his ear and shoulder, tossing the ball into the air and leaning back to catch it.
'Wilson? The patient is in my office, whenever you get a minute.'
He looked over at me, rolling his eyes.
'I'm serious. She's here, tall, brown eyes, dark hair, les that go on for miles. I sure hope she's not terminal- Darwin would be appalled if this specimen didn't reproduce.' He paused again, and I could hear the same tiny voice on the other end of the line, apparently still objecting.
'Fine, fine. She says she's happy to wait. Just page me when you can come see her.' He hung the phone up.
'Apparently he's not available for another half hour or so. You'll be okay to wait here?'
'If I can get a coffee. Does your TV get cable?' I asked, pointing at the set behind his desk.
'Only basic.'
'Good enough for me, so long as I don't miss General Hospital.'
He was about to stand up when I made that comment, and I think that it made him stumble a little, because he sat back down, quite heavily.
'You're kidding? You watch General Hospital?'
'It must seem stupid, to a doctor...' I started.
'It's a good thing, because it means I've got an excuse to hang out here with you. I haven't seen it in a week, you'll be able to catch me up. The coffee's in there-' he pointed to what looked like a conference room-cum-library next door, I could see a kitchenette in the corner. '-I take mine black with two sugars. Make it strong.'
I stood up, smiling a little, and pushed through the glass door, wondering where the filters were kept.
'This is your idea of a consult?'
The voice made me spin in my chair. House and I had been engrossed in the show- I'd spent the first ten minutes explaining what had happened earlier in the week, then we'd fallen silent and our coffees had been forgotten as the storyline unfolded- it was a Friday, so we were in for a cliff-hanger ending.
'Wilson! Took you long enough. This is-' I stood up and cut him off, holding out a hand to shake Dr Wilson's.
'I'm Ryan Dalton.' I filled in for House, who stayed in his seat, a somewhat expectant look on his face.
'Nice to meet you, Ryan. You needed a consult?' he glanced over my shoulder at House, who shrugged.
'She asked to see you, so I obliged.' House leaned back, crossing his feet at the ankles, hands behind his head, waiting for the fireworks to start.
Wilson turned to face me, still gripping my hand.
'You asked to see me?'
'Yes, I did.' I let go of his hand, stepped back and took a seat. Almost unconsciously, he mirrored my actions, spinning a chair around to face me.
'Why?' He had an open, honest face. House was right, I had his eyes. It was almost spooky, like looking into a mirror, albeit with bushier eyebrows.
I decided to bite the bullet and tell him before the urge overcame House to blurt out the news.
'I'm your daughter.'
---
Wilson sat there for a moment, his mouth half open, staring at me. His eyes flicked to House, who must have been grinning, then back to me.
'You're kidding...' he drifted off, one hand coming up to run through his hair. He looked over at House, and his eyes narrowed.
'You arekidding. This is some kind of joke, you're trying to set me up. Find a patient in the clinic who looks a bit like me and drag her up here to try and freak me out.'
I looked at him, completely understanding his reaction, but not able to be totally unhurt by it.
'Dr Cuddy did a DNA test for me, a week ago. She confirmed it. I- I met House down in the clinic because I didn't know how else to see you- there was no way I could get an appointment, unless I was terminal or something.'
I glanced at House, who had his hands up in an 'I'm innocent' gesture, then looked back at Dr Wilson.
'You're sure?' he asked, seeming to still be in shock.
'Here.' I opened the file House had set on the desk- it was genuinely my medical records- and pulled out the copies of my birth certificate and the DNA results. I handed them to him and he examined the sheets, his mouth hanging open again.
'How did Cuddy get my DNA...?'
'She said something about being discreet, mentioned the cafeteria.' I told him. In fact, Dr Cuddy had explained exactly to me how she had swiped one of his coffee cups after lunch one day, and run the labs herself, using a false name for Dr Wilson until she confirmed that he was my biological father.
He looked up from the papers, first at me, then at House.
'If this all turns out to be some kind of elaborate scam, House, I will personally shred that motorcycle.' his voice was low, gravelly, but his eyes never left the paperwork.
House didn't seem concerned, as if threats of property damage were normal, and shrugged.
'I believed her as soon as she told me. She's got your eyes, Jimmy.'
Dr Wilson looked at me again, and swallowed hard.
'How is-' he glanced at the birth certificate. 'Adriana. Adriana Dalton. I was a junior at McGill when we dated. She never even said...'
'She never knew, until after she'd gone home for the summer.' It was my turn to swallow and feel awkward. 'She died when I was nineteen. I t was a car accident, on her way to pick me up from the airport at Thanksgiving.'
'Oh.' There wasn't really much more he could say.
After about a ten second pause, it all seemed to become too much for Dr House.
'Come on, Wilson, surely you've got more than that!'
'House, this is all a hell of a lot to take in.' Wilson snapped at him- the reaction was almost automatic.
'Well, you must be a bit curious about her?'
Wilson shook his head, looking at the patch of floor between his feet.
'Well, if you won't, then I will. What college did you go to? What was your major?'
'I went to NYU, my grandmother lives in Washington Heights so I commuted to my classes. Ironically enough, I took pre-med, and graduated from Yale Medical school eighteen months ago. I've got an apartment just off campus up there, and I just finished my internship at the hospital.'
'What specialty?' House narrowed his eyes at me.
'Internal medicine- haematology.'
He snorted, leaned over, and poked Dr Wilson in the ribs with his cane.
'Hear that? She's a blood doctor.' He seemed amused at my career path.
'I heard her, House. Look, would you mind leaving?'
I thought for a moment he was talking to me, but then he raised his head and glared at House.
'Are you telling me to leave my own office?' House was incredulous.
'Yes.'
House stared at him for a moment, then lifted himself out of his chair.
'Fine then, I'll be in your office.' He stomped out of the room, turning right and limping away down the corridor.
---
'So, Ryan.' James Wilson looked at me, and couldn't seem to find the words.
'It's okay, Dr Wilson, I'm not expecting anything from you.' I told him, leaning back and relaxing a little now that House was out of the room.
'Call me James.' He smiled at me. 'I'm your father. You don't have to call me 'Doctor', Dr Dalton.'
'I haven't even started a proper fellowship yet- the internship was part of the conditions of one of my student loans.' I laughed, and he laughed with me. The atmosphere changed, and suddenly he was back together.
'Well, I can't just sit here in House's office with you. Do you have plans for dinner?'
'No, I don't.'
'Well, I finish at about five. It's only three now, but I'm sure that you can find something interesting to read in there.' he jerked a thumb over his shoulder to the conference room. 'I'll come find you when I'm done for the day and we can talk more over dinner.'
'Sounds great.' I was genuinely happy with the suggestion, it would mean a less formal environment and hopefully a less public one.
He stood up, and I held out my hand to shake his again. He took it, looking at them, then pulled me up out of my chair and hugged me.
'A daughter.' He muttered into my shoulder. 'I never thought I would have a daughter.'
I pressed my face into his lab coat, feeling a few tears escaping. He gripped me tighter, seeming to know that was what I needed, before he released me.
'There's a bathroom down the hall, if you need it. I've got an appointment now, but I'll be back in a couple of hours.'
He leaned over and kissed my cheek, then left the office, turning in the same direction Dr House had, and I stared at the space he had vacated, feeling like I'd achieved something very important.
---
A few minutes later I had made myself another coffee, and was sitting at the conference table, reading a report on a study about plasmophoresis and the prospect of using it to treat certain types of leukaemia.
'Hi.' A short, balding guy with a rather large nose had come in, followed by another guy with dark hair and a cheeky grin, a tall, black guy with intense eyes and a girl with one eyebrow cocked and a pen through the ponytail at the nape of her neck. The girl had spoken to me, and the guys had just taken their seats up the other end of the table.
'Hi.' I turned back to the article, not knowing who they were, or particularly caring.
'Alright, kids, twenty-seven year old male presents with tiredness, aching joints and partial blindness in one eye. The blindness has only happened this morning, and he's describing it as a moving black dot that travels with his vision. Differential diagnosis.' It was Dr House, who didn't comment on my presence in the room as he picked up a whiteboard marker and wrote the symptoms onto the whiteboard near the door to his office.
The other three hesitated, then the girl spoke up.
'Who are you?' she asked me.
House answered for me.
'This is Dr Dalton, she's going to be helping with today's differential. She's a friend of mine, a haematologist.'
They seemed to accept that, but the girl was still wary.
'He's got a family history of chronic fatigue, his mother and grandfather both had it. That could explain the joints and the fatigue.' The balding guy suggested.
'But not the blindness.' the dark haired one put in. 'Has anyone looked at the retinas? Anything to indicate trauma to the eye? If the cornea's got something stuck in it that could cause a tracking black spot.'
'No trauma, nothing visible causing the spot. There haven't been any neurological symptoms, either.' he said to the black guy, who had opened his mouth to say something. House turned to the girl. 'Thirteen?'
The girl looked up, startled. She'd been staring at me, and I'd stared back, still listening to the conversation, while she had apparently lost track.
'What can cause a tracking black spot, other than trauma to the eye?' House asked.
I watched her flounder for a few moments, and decided to put her out of her misery by voicing my own opinion.
'What was on his blood work? Sickle-cell anaemia can cause clots, which can lead to tracing spots if they happen in the optic blood vessels. It could explain his aches and the tiredness as well, especially if it's been misdiagnosed in the past or he's been skipping his treatments.'
'Nothing in the history indicates anything in the anaemia family.' The dark haired guy told me.
'And there's no blood work yet- we haven't taken any. In fact, there's no blood work in here full stop.' the black guy said, flicking through the file.
'Ok, I want you to take another look at the eye, Taub, the guys in the ER probably missed something.' House told the balding guy, who stood up and left the room. 'Kutner, you get some blood,' The dark haired guy left. 'Foreman, schedule an MRI- the eye thing could still be neurological even if there's no other symptoms, yet.' The black guy left, shooting me another glance as he did.
The girl, Thirteen, he'd called her, stayed in her seat as the guys left the room.
'What can I do?' she asked him, seeming a bit put out that the boys had all been sent on errands for the patient and she'd been left behind.
'You are going to take Dr Dalton on a tour of the facility, get her acquainted with her new workspace. She's going to be starting a fellowship with Dr Mason down in Pathology soon, so she needs to get to know her way around. Get her a parking permit, too.'
'Okay...' she stood up and I joined her, trying not to smirk at House's audacity, pretending I was a new pathology fellow.
'Dr Dalton, just a second.' House called me back as I reached the door. Thirteen stayed in the hall, and I went back to where House was leaning against the kitchenette.
'I really did get you an offer on that fellowship. One of the new kids gave notice on Tuesday so there's an opening. I told Mason that you would be ideal, and that Wilson would give you a reference if I wasn't good enough. Mason owes me a favour, so the spot's yours, if you want it.'
I gave him a half-grin, not really able to believe that he'd done something like that.
'I wasn't coming here looking for a job.' I said, a little defensive.
'Well, you can't exactly live on nothing, and it's not like this is a bad place to do a pathology fellowship. Go on, or she'll think you're my new girlfriend.' he waved his cane in the general direction of Thirteen, who was hovering in the hallway, watching us through the vertical blinds.
'Thanks.' I said to House, briefly reached out and touched his arm, then left the conference room, following Thirteen as she showed me around the place.
---
It was around five fifteen when I came back into House's office, having been in the locker rooms with Thirteen when her beeper went off, racing with her to the patient's room as he had a seizure, had some Lorazapam administered and proceeded to go into anaphylactic shock. Once I'd stabbed the EPI into his leg, Thirteen had paged House to let him know that the patient was stable, and he called us back into the conference room.
After an MRI had revealed nothing unusual going on in the patient's brain, House ordered a lumbar puncture in case it was an infection causing whatever was going on, and it was while Kutner was doing it that I realised how late it was.
I left the patient's room quietly, and made my way back to House's office, finding him sitting at his desk, my father there with him, shuffling a deck of cards.
'I was just about to page you, but realised I didn't have your number.' House said.
'You could have paged Thirteen, she was in the same room.' I said, shrugging off the lab-coat I had swiped from the coat-rack in House's office before following the team to the MRI room, wanting to at least look a little professional if I was going to be 'working' with them- the patient's girlfriend had been appalled when an apparently random civilian had plunged an adrenaline shot into her partners' thigh. The lab-coat had House's nametag on it, which I had quickly pocketed when the patients' girlfriend asked if I was 'The doctor who is supposed to be treating him without having even met him.'
'You've been helping his team?' James seemed amused.
'She was bored, Jimmy. You didn't even leave her anyone to play with. I told him about the fellowship offer.' House mentioned.
James looked up at me, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
'Is that okay with you?'
'It sounds great. If there was a space for another fellow with Dr House, I'd take that, but a spot in pathology is a good second option.'
'I don't think Cuddy would be able to fit another fellow into the budget- he's been through a few in the last couple of months.'
'Thirteen and Kutner mentioned the elimination rounds while we were doing the MRI- they seemed a bit pissed that I was helping them out without having gone through that.' I said, pulling up a chair at the end of the desk. House dealt the cards, apparently we were playing Texas Hold 'Em, and I checked what he'd dealt me.
About ten hands later I'd managed to win about a hundred bucks off each of them, and the door to House's office opened.
'The LP's just gone to the lab- we'll have the results in 48 hours.' It was Thirteen, who seemed surprised to see me sitting between House and Wilson, the deck of cards in my hands- it was my turn to deal.
'Great. Go home, get some sleep, let the others know that we're done for the day. I'll page you if I need you back anytime over the weekend.' She nodded and left, giving me a funny look as she did.
House stood up three hands later and reached for his jacket.
'So, Wilson, where are you taking us for dinner?'
Wilson looked up from the dollar notes he was counting from the hand he'd just won.
'Us?'
'Yes, us. You're not the only one interested in what Dalton's got to say.'
'Ryan and I are having dinner at the Italian place near my new apartment. You, I assume, will eat whatever take-out is easiest to carry whilst riding a motorcycle.'
'Aw, come on, can't I come? I bought you lunch yesterday!'
'With money you'd borrowed from me that morning. You're not coming.'
'You know I'll just follow you. Hope you made reservations for three.'
Wilson's shoulders dropped, defeated. He stood up as well, shrugging into his own blazer as I pushed my chair back into the conference room.
'Come on, the reservation is for six thirty- and I did make it a table for three.'
I got the feeling that this was a regular occurrence, House's gleeful attitude indicated that this wasn't the first 'private dinner' that he'd crashed.
'You ride a motorbike?' I asked as we got into the elevator, noting House's leather jacket and the helmet dangling from his non-cane hand.
'It's orange.' James told me, House shot me a grin over his shoulder.
'Want to ride with me to the restaurant?'
'House!' Wilson seemed appalled at the thought.
'Is yours the one in the handicapped parking space?' I asked, remembering what had been in the parking lot.
'That would be mine.'
'I parked next to you.' I told him, waiting for the realization to hit James.
'But, the only spaces near there are-' he stopped mid-sentence. The parking spaces right next to the handicapped zone were small yellow rectangles specifically for other motorbikes.
'Mine's purple.' I told them. 'And my helmet's in the compartment under the dickie seat.' I explained, before either of them could ask.
House turned to look at Wilson as we left the elevator.
'It's like she's your kid, with my attitude.' he said, sounding somewhat triumphant.
'Ryan, you can come in my car, you don't have to ride your bike...' James tried to object, somewhat fruitlessly.
'Actually, Dr House, if I could ride with you? I haven't been backseat on a bike in years.'
'Or you could piggyback your dad- save us having to wait for him to find a park.' House suggested, holding open the main door of the hospital for us to leave.
We both looked at James, who was suddenly very pale, pausing halfway out the door. I caught House's eye, and he laughed.
'It's okay, James,' I said, stifling a giggle of my own. 'I'll ride with House and you can drop me back here after dinner so I can get to my hotel.'
James seemed to accept that as a compromise, but watched a little nervously as I unlocked my bike's seat and extracted my black full-face helmet from the compartment that kept it.
House was on his bike and had it started by the time I had my helmet on. My purse was strapped over my shoulder inside my jacket, my cell phone, wallet and iPod all in there.
I swung a leg over the back of the bike, sliding forward so I was snug against House's back, wrapped my arms around his chest and held on.
'See you at the restaurant!' House said, revving the bike and taking off with a slight spin of the tyres.
I caught a glimpse of my dad shaking his head a little, turning and walking towards a row of boring-looking sedans.
---
House weaved through the traffic like a pro, even with my added weight on the bike. I was perceptive and confident enough that I was able to keep up with his movements as we zig-zagged along towards the same area of town my hotel was in, and after barely five minutes on the road, House pulled the bike up on the pavement outside a tiny Italian restaurant, flicked the engine off and waited for me to disengage before getting off himself, unclipping his cane from where he'd stored it for the journey.
I took my helmet off and shook my hair out, and caught House looking at me speculatively.
'You certainly are a surprising girl.'
'Thank-you, Greg.' I used his first name now that we were away from the hospital, and although his eyes widened a little, he let it slide.
'Come on, I'll bet he's even got us a bottle of wine waiting.'
'Naughty, mixing Vicodin and alcohol.'
'I could say the same of you- five sugars in your coffee to level out your blood sugar rather than having juice.'
'Hey, I was stressed.'
'Just don't tell Wilson about the diabetes or the migraines or he'll put you through the pancreatic cancer wringer.'
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, wondering when he'd found time to actually read my file, and let it slide. We told the maitre'd the name the table was under and were led to our seats in the middle of the place. I immediately felt underdressed- it had been okay to be in jeans and an open-collared shirt at the hospital- they'd been covered with the labcoat, but not here.
Greg wasn't concerned, he was in a rumpled green shirt, a leather jacket and scruffy jeans. He set his helmet down under his seat and shrugged out of his jacket. I followed suit, hanging my Kevlar-lined denim jacket over the back of my own chair. A few seconds later a waiter appeared, pouring us water and asking if we wanted to order drinks or wait for our other guest.
'I'll have a Miller Lite, she'd like the sauvignon blanc, and a merlot for the latecomer.' House answered before I could open my mouth.
I looked at him as the waiter trotted off.
'How did you-'
'Chardonnay's too sweet, and the other options are swill. At least the blanc has a nice woody edge to it. Here's daddy!'
James looked up at us from the entrance and gave us a pained smile as House's comment carried across the entire place. It was mostly empty, but I got the feeling that Wilson was still a little uncomfortable.
'I ordered you a merlot.' House told him as Wilson took his seat on my other side. It felt a little strange, having dinner with two men twice my age, who I had only met that afternoon, no less. But I let myself relax, enjoying their banter as James objected to Greg's choice of wine, until the waiter delivered it, at which point he shut up.
We talked through most of dinner, keeping topics relatively neutral. I got to know a little more about James' work, his specialty and, thanks to House, his love life. It certainly was an insight to learn about his three failed marriages, and that I was, to his knowledge, the only child he had. House also kept mentioning a woman who he referred to as 'Cut-throat Bitch,' but every time that subject came up James fell silent and gave Greg a look that could have melted steel.
When dinner was over, and House had wrestled the check away from James, my father offered to take me back to the hospital to pick up my ride.
'Well, my hotel's only up the block. I could walk up there tonight and catch a cab back in the morning to get my bike.'
'Don't be stupid. Come on, you're both coming back to my place for poker.' House told us. 'I've got to win that hundred back from you, Dalton.'
James looked over at me.
'It is Friday night.' he admitted.
'Sounds good.' I smiled at both of them, and House grinned back. Wilson was a little more reserved, but seemed pretty enthusiastic about the idea of poker.
I ended up being taken to House's place on the back of the bike, James, it emerged, drove a blue Volvo. It was almost scarily safe and sensible. I just shook my head when he parked it across the road from House's apartment, I was sitting on the stoop with a beer in one hand and my cell phone in the other when he pulled up.
'Grace has been trying to call me. I'll be inside in a second.'
'Grace?'
'My roommate- I told her I'd be back today or tomorrow and forgot to call and let her know that it won't be until tomorrow at the earliest.'
'Ok.' He patted my shoulder and went inside. I could hear House playing his piano, he'd started as soon as I'd excused myself to check my cell messages, and heard him refuse to get up and open the door when James knocked- I'd left it unlocked.
---
They each managed to lose another $100 to me before they gave up on poker- House turned the TV on and checked his TiVo.
James sat down on the opposite end of the couch to House, leaving the middle cushion for me. I was thinking about the situation- my newly-found father and his somewhat eccentric best friend, and thinking just how uncomfortable it shouldhave been, when it really wasn't. I felt like I'd done this every weekend of my adult life, and from the way the two of them bickered over the remote I got the feeling that it was pretty normal for them, too.
---
'Is she asleep?' House's voice rattled across my consciousness, but I kept my eyes closed.
'I think so. Are you okay with her staying here? I could wake her up...'
'Leave her, it's been a long day. Hey- maybe she knows how to make pancakes!'
'With what? Since I moved out you've lived on take out and tinned food.' I had been leaning on James while we watched TV and had eventually wound up with my head on his shoulder and my eyes sliding closed.
'I do have somefood in the house.' House muttered as he moved off the end of the couch, gently lifting my feet up to where his residual body heat was still radiating out of the couch.
James didn't seem to want to move for fear of waking me up.
'Here.' House (I assume) laid a blanket over me, and I felt James start to move. He was very careful not to disturb me too much, sliding a pillow under my head as he stood up.
I shifted slightly to make myself more comfortable and let sleep take over.
---
I woke up the next morning with the sun in my eyes. I could hear House snoring somewhere else in the apartment, sat up and wondered where the bathroom was.
About an hour later I was back stretched out on the couch, watching cartoons, when I heard a door slam somewhere in the apartment.
House was limping down the hallway, in a black t-shirt and pale, striped pyjama pants.
'Morning, sunshine.' he greeted me. I pulled my legs up to give him some space on the couch- at some stage the night before someone had taken my shoes off for me, but I was still in my jeans and the same shirt I'd had on the day before. 'Sleep well?' he asked, settling down in the spot I'd removed my feet from.
'Your couch is lumpy as hell.'
'Yeah, your dad hates it.'
'He's slept here?'
'During his last divorce he needed a place to crash for a while, so I let him have the couch.'
'That explains a lot.' I stretched my legs out in front of me, and House hooked one of my ankles with his cane and pulled my feet into his lap.
For a moment I pretended to ignore it, then allowed myself to relax, leaving the remote on my leg as we continued to watch cartoons in companionable silence.
---
I think it was about another hour later that James arrived, we were still stretched out on the couch, tuned in to Nickelodeon.
'Morning, family.' James greeted us, looking calm and collected- he had a pair of dark jeans and a pale blue t-shirt on, a sack full of groceries in his arms.
'Hey, Jimmy.' Greg leaned back against the couch, one hand resting on my ankles, the other arm stretched along the back of the sofa.
'Sleep okay, Ryan?'
'The couch is lumpy.'
'I know, I spent a few nights there myself. You might need to invest in a fold-out at this rate.' James directed that comment at Greg, who gave him an indignant snort.
'You two are the only people who've slept over in the last five years. I'm not getting a new couch.'
James went over to the piano and sat on the stool, glancing at the TV.
'What are you two watching?' he asked after a moment.
'Ren and Stimpy.' House said, not looking at him.
'Have you had breakfast?'
'No.' we answered in unison.
James sighed.
'It's a good thing I always come prepared.'
'You were a Boy Scout?' House asked, just as I opened my mouth to voice that very question.
'No, but I knew that you had nothing edible, and presumed that breakfast would be appreciated. Pans still in the same cupboard?'
'Now, why would I rearrange my kitchen? Of course.' House didn't seem to mind James taking over the kitchen, in fact, when I watched James making preparations, pulling ingredients out of the paper sack he'd bought in with him, he seemed to know exactly where everything was.
The three of us were sitting at the kitchen table a few minutes later, House muttering something about '...not as good as the macadamia ones.' while James served plain vanilla pancakes. He'd even bought syrup with him, which he set down on the table and House grabbed before I could even make a move towards it.
It was the second meal in a row I'd had with these two men- and they both seemed to regard it as perfectly normal. After a few minutes I wrestled the syrup away from House, even after he'd soaked his pancakes he still clung to the bottle, and James made a very strange comment.
'You moved the bottle out of the saucepan.'
'No, I finished the bottle I kept in the saucepan.'
'Really? How much are you taking?'
'No more than eighty migs a day. I'm fine.'
'Your prescription is for half that!'
'Which is why I finished the bottle that I kept in the saucepan.'
'You're hopeless.' I muttered, directing it at both of them.
That made them look at me, syrup dribbling down House's chin, James pausing with his fork halfway to his mouth.
'What? You argue like an old married couple.' I said, holding my free hand in the air in a 'no offence' gesture.
House laughed a little, and James just shook his head.
After breakfast, House stood up and went into his room, coming back a few minutes later with a large black towel, a dark grey t-shirt and a pair of jeans which he tossed in my general direction.
'I'm assuming you'll want a shower? Those ought to fit you- I figured you'd want a change of clothes.'
'I was thinking I could wait until I got back to my hotel...'
'By the time I get you back there you'll have enough time to grab your bag and check out. Take a shower here and we can talk about what's your plan is once you're done.'
He poked me with his cane so I'd get off the couch, and I went into the bathroom, unable to stop myself from smiling.
'You don't mind if I use your conditioner?' I called through the apartment as I turned the water on.
'Just stay away from the medicine cupboard. The label might be asprin, but it's probably a narcotic.' James shouted back over the TV and running water.
Surprisingly enough, House's jeans and top fit me okay- he was bigger in the waist than he looked- and I always carried a spare set of underwear in my purse, something my mother had instilled in me from the first weekend I went away to college. The jeans were a little long, but I still had my steel capped boots and when I pulled them on the denim just bagged a little at my feet.
---
On the back of House's bike again I discovered that he took the corners far too fast for first thing in the morning, and pulled up outside the hotel with a skid.
'Go on, I'll wait here.'
I went into the lobby, helmet under my arm, and up to the room I'd paid for and not even slept in. My bag was still on the end of the bed, and I decided if I was going to pay for the room I might as well raid it- I emptied the minibar of its' candy and swiped the complimentary flip-flops from the end of the bath. I went back down to the lobby to check out, watching House out of the corner of my eye as he leaned against his bike, helmet dangling from the handlebar. People seemed to be going out of their way to avoid him- he was the only unmoving person on the entire sidewalk.
I finished checking out and crossed the pavement to stand next to him, unzipping my backpack and sliding my purse into the side pocket, rearranging my things to accommodate it.
'Wilson wanted me to take you to his place. Do you need to pick up your bike? You said your roommate was expecting you back tonight sometime.'
'That's okay, it's only a few hours on the bike, I can go straight home from the hospital sometime this afternoon. How's your patient?'
'Just got a page- turns out you were right about skipping the anaemia meds- he was trying some alternative therapies and one of them poisoned him- which led to the eye issue and the seizure. He's back on the right combination and he'll be discharged this afternoon.'
'Why wasn't there any blood-work in the file?'
'He used a fake name- apparently the medication he was on as a kid led to some embarrassing problems in the bedroom when he hit puberty. He didn't want us to put him back on the anaemia meds because of that, so I ordered him a script for the little blue helper pills and told him to only take a half at a time.'
'Very sensible.' I donned my helmet and tightened the straps on my backpack as House started the bike again, this time heading in a different direction, presumably towards my dad's place.
---
We were sitting on the stoop, waiting for him to arrive, when House asked me a question I hadn't been expecting.
'Why did you say yes to the job?'
I looked at him, confused.
'Because I'm fresh out of my internship, and it's a good position.'
'But you might hate Wilson. You might never want to see him again after you've gotten to know him. Why put yourself in a position to be in the same building as him every day, when it might be a mistake?'
'How many of the pathology fellows do you know by first name? Or by last name for that matter?' I asked.
It was House's turn to stare at me, blank.
'Exactly. I might be in the same building, but it's not like I'm in his department, working directly for him. If I want to avoid him, I can, and if I want to see him, this just makes it easier.'
'So, if you're starting in two days, where are you going to stay while you find a place? You can't just expect him to put you up.'
'I could stay on your couch for a while longer.' I told him, making him raise an eyebrow at my forwardness.
'Thirteen already thinks there's something going on- if you stayed at my place she'd be certain we were sleeping together.'
'So what? Since when do you care what people think? Besides, if I'm sleeping with you, then I can't be Wilson's daughter, and can't be getting preferential treatment as a new member of staff because my Daddy's the head of a department.'
He thought for a moment.
'Well, we should at least run this by Wilson before you take up residence on my couch. Preferably before he asks you what colour you'd like to paint his guest room.'
'Who's painting what now?' James had come around the corner as House had made his last comment.
'Nothing, except maybe your windowsills- they're flaking a bit. Hurry up and open the door, my leg's killing me from all this sitting on concrete.'
I raised the topic of my new job as I was helping James unpack the groceries he'd bought home, while House flicked through the TiVo, having flopped down on the couch.
'So, it looks like I'll need to move down here, if I'm going to be working at the hospital.'
'Looks like it. If you need a place to stay, while you're looking for an apartment, if you want to get an apartment, I've got a guest bedroom that's being used as storage at the moment.'
'House said I could stay on his couch for a while longer if I needed to.'
'Oh.' James looked hurt by that, and I could well understand.
'I don't want to just assume that you'll let me move in here, because we're related, because you've got some weird kind of guilt thing going that makes you feel responsible for me.'
'I don't feel guilty; I just know how crappy that couch is to sleep on. I've got a fold-out bed in the lounge, and even if you only stay here for a few weeks, you can help me sort out the stuff in the room, maybe help decorate it. I think there's a bed in there, under all the junk.'
I looked over at him, and realised that even if he hadn't been my father, if he'd met me and taken a liking to me, and I needed a place to crash, he'd be more than willing to help me out. I smiled at him, and he smiled back, and I began to realise just how lucky I was in the man that was my biological father.
'She's staying here, isn't she? You should see if that spare bed actually exists, Wilson!' House called from the lounge.
'Not tonight!' I told him, coming out of the kitchen and shoving him to one side so I could actually sit on the couch. 'I've got to get back to Yale tonight and talk to Grace, tell her about the position, that I'm moving, arrange some stuff.'
'You'll be okay to do that yourself?' James seemed concerned.
'I moved from New York to Yale by myself, this isn't much farther. Besides, I need some more clothes if I'm starting on Monday. If I like the job, I can get the rest shipped and sort out furniture and stuff once I've got a place.'
'And if you don't like the job?'
'Then I'll look for something else. No biggie.' I elbowed House again, making him grumble and shift further up the couch.
Later that afternoon, once we'd had chicken enchiladas for lunch and House had tried again to win some of his cash back from me (I fleeced him of another 80 bucks before he gave up), James offered to take me back to the hospital so that I could get to Yale before dark.
---
I got out of the car as James stopped the engine, opened the back door and pulled my backpack and helmet out.
He rounded the hood to talk to me as I checked the contents of my backpack and zipped it up.
'So, you really think this is a good idea?'
'It's a good position. If I'd been offered it by anyone then I would have jumped at it. The fact that it's close to you, and that I can stay with you rather than in a hotel while I find an apartment, is a bonus.'
He looked awkward, like he wanted to say something but didn't know how to. I decided to just take care of it, stepped forward and caught him in a hug.
After a few seconds I stepped back, and his eyes were big and wet.
'It's been great to meet you, James. I'll be back sometime tomorrow afternoon. You've given me your address, and directions to get back there. I've got your cell number and you've got mine, we'll be fine.'
'See you tomorrow, Ryan.' He hugged me again, then stood back and leaned against the hood of his Volvo as I crossed the car park and swung a leg over my purple motorcycle.
---
Grace was somewhat speechless when I told her what had happened.
'He met you, what, yesterday? And he's already got you a job lined up and a place to stay down in Jersey?'
'Well, his friend got me the job- he's just offered me his spare room while I look for a place.'
'Sounds like you hit the jackpot as far as absent daddies go- most turn out to be deadbeats.'
'He's really nice, an oncologist. His place is still a bit of a shambles, but I think he's only been there a few months, and he works a lot.'
'Your dad is a cancer doctor? He must be loaded!'
'He's had three failed marriages- I think most of the 'loaded' bit went down the drain in alimony.'
'But he's still nice? And his friend sounds cool.'
'House...' I drifted off. House was an anomaly. I genuinely liked James, he was a lovely guy, but House was a puzzle. 'House is cool. He's got some boundary issues, but other than that, he's pretty normal.'
'What do you mean, boundary issues?'
'Well, James and I went out to dinner, and House came with us- threatened to follow us and crash it if we didn't include him, actually. I slept over at his place last night-'
'You slept with your newly-found dad's best friend?' Grace butted in, eyes wide.
'No, I slept on his couch. I fell asleep while they were watching the New Yankee Workshop. James made us breakfast, then we went to his place, and I made lunch. He took me back to the hospital to pick up my bike and I came here. I'm packing some bags tonight and going back to his place in the morning, and I start on Monday in the pathology lab at Princeton Plainsboro.'
'These two are doctors, and they watch the New Yankee Workshop?'
'House said something about an imbecile combined with power tools and eventual hilarity. It was pretty funny, but I was shredded and fell asleep on the couch. They just left me there- House took me to James' place this morning.'
'Didn't you say he walks with a cane? How does he drive?'
'He rides a motorbike, actually.'
She grinned at me.
'What did your doctor dad say when he saw yours?'
'He went a bit pale, but didn't say anything about it. I think he's decided not to be too judgemental before he gets to know me. He was concerned about me being on the road when it was getting dark, but I sent him a text when I got here to let him know I wasn't splattered across the freeway.'
Grace reclined on the couch as I dug around in my closet, finding my big backpack and picking out some clothes that would be appropriate for a pathology fellow. I knew from the look of James' shirts that he would have an ironing board, so I rolled up a few pairs of pants, some shirts and my two blazers, some pyjamas and my favourite casual clothes. I was still in the shirt and pants House had loaned me, something Grace hadn't commented on or hadn't noticed. I had taken some clothes with me, but it had been easier to keep House's jeans on to travel home rather than fussing around changing at James' place.
---
The next afternoon I was covered in dust, helping James clear out his spare bedroom. It emerged that most of the boxes were full of things that he either thought he had thrown out, or hadn't realised his last wife had allowed him to keep. There was a substantial record collection, some really nice cufflinks, and a complete dinner set, silverware, crockery and serving plates. James had been living with three plates, a mug and some borrowed cutlery, and suddenly had so much kitchenware that he didn't know where to put it.
I got the feeling that he appreciated my help- some of the boxes had wedding photo albums in them- he let me sort through those- and I found some photos of James as a much younger man, even some baby photos, in between the wedding snaps.
I pulled all the photos out of the albums, sorting the prints into two piles, and asked James what he wanted me to do with the wedding-and-wife photos.
'Toss them in here.' he held out a green garbage bag.
'Are you sure?'
'She told me that she burned all of hers. What's the point in keeping mine?'
I threw them in the bin, then tore off the 'Our Wedding' stickers on the cover and began rearranging the photos in the album in what I assumed was chronological order.
We ended up with five big green bags full of trash, which we hauled into the alley and up into the dumpster, and went back inside to find a very empty and much larger spare bedroom.
'I forgot how big this room was.' James murmured, looking at the bare floorboards and large picture window. It had a built-in wardrobe, but that had been largely empty- I got the feeling that he had just dumped his boxes in the room when he'd moved in and not even looked at options to keep them neat.
He sat down against the far wall, a shaft of sunlight hitting his hair and illuminating his face. He looked years younger- and a smile crept across his features as I watched him from my spot in the doorway.
'I've been meaning to do that for months.' he said, grinning up at me.
'Glad I could help.'
He looked me up and down, and the smile faded a little.
'You're still wearing House's jeans.' he commented.
It was true- I'd pulled them on because they were the nearest item to me when I'd woken up at six that morning. I had his shirt in my backpack, which was on the end of the sofa in the lounge room behind me. I was actually surprised that he hadn't noticed earlier- but when I'd arrived he had been starting with the boxes, so I'd just jumped right in and we'd been busy all morning.
'I just grabbed them this morning. Figured I should probably wash them before I gave them back, so I might as well get some wear out of them. They're quite comfy.'
His smile returned, and he raised one eyebrow.
'You are so much like him, if you didn't have the same eyes as me-'
'Don't forget the handwriting!' we had discovered some further similarities earlier in the day- I'd been labelling the Goodwill bags when he'd noticed the writing thing.
'-if not for those things, I'd think you were his daughter, not mine.'
'Maybe that's why you like him so much, you subconsciously tried to substitute for me.'
'Ryan, I didn't know you even existed until two days ago.'
'Well, I can hope.'
I crossed the room and sat down next to him, stretching my legs out in front of me and considering the room as it was.
'It's quite a nice colour already.' I commented. All of the records were in his bookshelves in the den, his photo albums in the cabinet next to the TV, the clothes that he was keeping were in the hamper to be taken to the laundromat, and the rest of them either in the dumpster at the back of the building, or tied up in canvas bags next to the front door, waiting to be taken to Goodwill. The room was a pale cream colour with polished floorboards, dark gold curtains and a plain pine picture rail about two feet from the ceiling.
We sat there in companionable silence for a few minutes before the buzz of the doorbell disrupted us.
'That'll be House.' James commented; getting to his feet as the buzzer rang again.
'What would happen if you didn't let him in?'
'He'd keep buzzing until he drove one of us nuts, or break the door down.'
'You think he could do that?'
'He's done it before. Come on, we'd better let him in before he breaks something.'
---
Later that afternoon I was reclining on the bed that had been delivered, House had mysteriously disappeared for the hour that it took James and I to put it together, when I heard the bedroom door creak open.
James was in the shower- the water was still running- so I assumed that it would be House. I had my eyes closed, reclining on the pillows that I had recently stuffed into the red pillowcases that House had dropped into the cart at Pottery Barn.
'Where have you been?' I asked, eyes still closed. 'You missed all the manual labour.'
'I do that a lot.' I felt the mattress moving and heard a clatter.
'Drop your cane?'
He grunted at me and I rolled my head, opening my eyes and saw him swivelling onto the bed, lifting his right leg up with his hands and reclining into the pillows on the other side of the bed.
'Why red?' I asked, and got another grunt as he closed his eyes, massaging his thigh.
'Seems to suit you.' he muttered, reaching into the pocket of his jacket and extracting his pill bottle.
I watched him as he dry-swallowed a single tablet, sighing as it went down his throat.
'How many of those are you taking?'
'Enough to stop the pain.'
I considered him for a moment before rolling onto my side, propping my head up on my palm and changing the subject.
---
We were still talking a few minutes later, when James came into the room.
'The bed looks great.' he commented, resting his hands on the foot of the bed before leaning over and scooping House's cane up, dropping it onto the bed between us.
'I like it.' I told him, rolling onto my back and putting my hands behind my head to look at my Dad.
He was in dark blue jeans and a pale grey McGill shirt, and as I spoke he rounded the end of the bed, I pulled my legs up and he sat down at my feet.
The three of us kept chatting for another hour or so, until James' beeper went off out in the kitchen.
'Got to go- one of my patients is starting to reject his bone marrow transplant.' he told us, pulling a jacket on and grabbing his car keys from the table.
I heard his car start up a few seconds later, and he peeled away from the kerb with a slight spin of the tires.
'He's pretty dedicated, isn't he?' I asked House. He was still flat on his back on the right hand side of the bed, but by this time I was sitting up against the headboard.
'He's the head of the Oncology department, he has to be dedicated.'
'But you're the head of your department, and you've barely answered your pages all weekend.'
'I don't have any active cases at the moment, all the pages have been my boss harassing me about coming in to help with the free clinic down at the hospital. I'm supposed to do ten hours a week and I'm a little behind this month.'
'How far behind?'
'I've only done fifteen hours.'
'It's the twenty fourth! You'll have to spend the rest of the week down there if you're going to make it all up by the end of the month.'
'I know. That's what the pages were about. By the way, I also got a message from Mason. You won't be able to start down in Pathology until next Tuesday- the guy who quit gave two weeks' notice, not one.'
'So what am I supposed to do for a week and a half?'
'You could do my clinic hours for me.' He suggested, a lazy grin playing on his features.
'Or I could just do what I did on Friday- help out with your differentials and keep freaking your team out. They were sure that I was there to replace one of them.'
'And do some of my clinic hours.'
'Jedi mind trick won't work on me, Greg.' I informed him, shuffling down so that I was flat on my back next to him again.
He cocked his eyebrow at me again.
'Why do you call me Greg? Even Wilson calls me House.'
'I figure we're not at the hospital- this is purely a social interaction. I'll certainly call you Dr House when we're at work, but since you've spent the better part of the afternoon stretched out on my bed it's a little silly to be calling you by your professional title.'
The eyebrow fell, and he grinned again.
'You might not want to mention the 'afternoon stretched out on your bed' to anyone at the hospital- don't want them jumping to the wrong conclusions.'
'I think Thirteen has already jumped to that conclusion.'
'She's just jealous and wants me for herself.'
'No, she's not. She just doesn't want you too distracted while you're supposed to be working.'
He considered this for a moment.
'Definitely come and help the team out- but it wouldn't hurt you to do some time in the clinic, keep you on your toes.'
'Sounds like a good compromise.'
We lay there for a few more minutes in companionable silence, and I felt my eyes sliding shut. The day was catching up with me- the ride back from Yale, helping James with the room, setting up and making the bed, it had been a full-on day for a Sunday. I rolled onto my side so that my back was to Greg and curled up a little, drifting off as I heard him start to snore.
---
I woke up the next morning, surprised that I'd slept that long. The sun was coming in through the door from the open blinds in the lounge, and as I yawned I realised that Greg was spooned against my back, one arm draped over my midsection. I shuffled around a bit and his arm tightened, then he yawned and released it again.
Rolling onto my back I saw that his other arm was under the pillow, and he'd kicked his shoes off at some point. His face was a few inches from mine, and as he opened his eyes he gave me a slow smile.
'You two picked a good mattress.'
'You did help.'
'I'm good with things like that. What time is it?'
'Six fifteen.' I told him, glancing at my watch.
'Why am I awake at six fifteen?' he yawned and closed his eyes again, stretching his other hand above his head and letting his eyes close again. 'You can come into the hospital with me this morning, I usually go in around nine. Go back to sleep.'
'What time does Dad usually go in?'
'He's there by eight on the dot, but he'll close the door if we're asleep while he's getting ready.'
'I didn't hear him come home last night.'
'He might still be there. In which case, we can go back to sleep, because he'll shower and change at the hospital- he keeps some shirts in his locker.' he reached into his pocket and extracted his pill bottle, dry-swallowing another Vicodin before he set the bottle on the bedside table.
I rearranged myself so my back was to him and a few seconds later felt him slide towards me, slipping one arm around my midsection and pressing his face into the nape of my neck, sighing and relaxing back into sleep-mode.
A few minutes later, his hand moved.
That was the first inkling I got that he hadn't really gone back to sleep. I kept my breathing steady and ignored him, if he was going to act like a teenager then so could I.
The hand that was on the outside of my t-shirt was being very sneaky. He used his pinkie finger to ruck it up a little, then pretended to stretch his arm above his head for a second, and when the hand came to rest again it was about four inches lower and the entire palm was on exposed skin.
He left it there for a few seconds, gauging my reaction, before his thumb started to move in a slow circle, going higher until his hand was under my shirt.
I think he did fall asleep then, because he stopped there, his hand on my lower ribs, his nose at my neck. I relaxed and started to doze myself, until about twenty minutes later when I heard the distinct sound of a key scraping in the front door lock.
House heard it to, snapping awake and looking down at me as I rolled onto my back to see what he was going to do.
The front door was pushed open, and rather than removing himself entirely from the room, House rolled onto his back and closed his eyes again. Following his lead I went back to where I had been on my side, facing the door.
'Awake yet, Ryan?' I heard James whisper from the doorway. I cracked an eyelid at him.
'What time is it?'
'Ten to seven. I just came home to take a shower and get changed. He told you that you're not starting until next Tuesday?' he asked, nodding at the apparently sleeping form of Greg House sprawled on the bed behind me.
'He said that I could come in and help with his differentials if I wanted to.'
'Are you sure? Lisa mentioned that she can put you in as an intern but you'll only get paid minimum until you get placed as a fellow.'
'That doesn't' matter, I've got some money saved up, besides, I've taken almost four hundred off you two in the last few days. Tell you what- how about we meet for lunch?'
'Come and have breakfast with me first, I'll drive you in.'
'What about him?' I asked, sitting up in bed and jerking a thumb over my shoulder at Greg's prone form.
'He usually sleeps until about eight thirty and comes in around nine. His bike's still here, he'll be fine.'
'Okay. You go shower and I'll work on breakfast.'
He smiled and went into his own bedroom, coming back past the kitchen a moment later with his shirt, pants and tie draped over his arm.
I hunted around and found enough ingredients to make omelettes, and after I heard the shower start, I made no effort to be quiet about it. The door to my room was still open, and after a few minutes of banging pots and pans around, I heard Greg groan at me.
'You better be making a five star breakfast, Dalton.' he muttered, and a minute or so later I heard the step-thump, step-thump of him and his cane emerging from my room.
'What are you making?' he asked, pulling a chair up at the kitchen table.
'Omelettes with spinach, bacon and red peppers. Want one?'
'Duh.'
'Here.' I had poured three glasses of orange juice and set one in front of him. 'It's always better to take those things with food, you know.'
'I know, I know...' he had been on the point of dry-swallowing a pill when I'd given him the juice, and after a wry smile he actually washed the pill down with half the glass.
I mixed up the omelettes and made toast, just as I was setting Greg's down in front of him I heard the distinct sound of a hairdryer starting. I closed my eyes for a moment, wondering how to phrase the question, when Greg answered it anyway.
'He takes pride in his appearance, apparently.' he said, digging into his omelette. 'This is good. You better stop him with his attack of the hair products before I eat his as well.'
I just cuffed him on the back of the head, which got me a raised eyebrow and a look of total confusion, and went towards the bathroom.
'Excuse me, Mr Hairdryer? Sorry, Dr Hairdryer?' I asked James from the doorway. He turned it off and turned to look at me a little sheepishly.
'Come on, your breakfast is getting cold. You can finish that off in a few minutes.' He put the large black Schwarzkopf Professional piece of equipment down on the vanity and followed me back into the kitchen. Greg was leaning over and about to steal a piece of omelette from what was in fact my plate, when I whipped it out from under him and dug in myself.
'Where do you keep your towels?' I asked James when I was halfway through my breakfast.
'Cupboard below the sink, next to his shaving stuff.' Greg filled in, still casting the odd glance at my omelette. After a few more seconds I shoved the plate at him, got up and went to my room to get some clothes for the day.
When I was ready fifteen minutes later, I came out into the kitchen to find Greg gone and Dad doing the breakfast dishes with his sleeves rolled up.
'Where did House go?' I asked, pulling a tea towel off the oven and starting to dry the plates.
'He wanted to shower at his place- and he said if you were going to be helping his team you should get a lab-coat of your own issued- he doesn't want you making his smell all girly.'
I grinned at him and he smiled back. We finished the dishes in companionable silence, and while I was pulling my shoes on (not my steel-capped boots this time, but my black Crocs I'd worn as an intern) he went and brushed his teeth.
I found my purse and checked its' contents- wallet, cell phone, iPod, notebook, camera, Tic-tacs, insulin. Everything was there, so I checked the coffee table and found James' car keys.
When he emerged from the bathroom I swung the keys around my pinkie finger.
'Can I drive?'
He looked a little apprehensive, but swallowed once and nodded. He picked up his briefcase and patted himself down, checking his wallet was in his pocket, cell phone in the other and his pager in its' holder on his hip.
'You'll have to go see Cuddy today, get a parking permit, officially sign-on as a member of staff. I'll give her a call when we get in and make you an appointment.' James told me as I started the Volvo.
'House said I could maybe work in the clinic while I'm waiting for the spot in Pathology to open up.'
'Did he just? He probably wants you to help out with his hours. He's behind this month.'
'I was actually thinking I could just get back into the swing of things- I've been doing pathology lab work for the last two months, I want to get back into the real stuff, diagnosing people, not blood samples.'
'The clinic will certainly give you that- it's the only walk-in for fifty miles. Turn left here.'
---
We kept talking about the clinic and what it entailed all the way to the hospital, and just as we were walking in the front doors I heard the distinct sound of a motorbike pulling up behind us. I turned and watched as Greg parked the bike diagonally across the handicapped parking space he'd been assigned, taking up as much space as possible. He unclipped his cane from the side of the bike and limped over to where James and I had paused just outside the main doors.
'Excellent breakfast, Dalton.' he announced to all the people milling around the entrance. 'We'll have to do it again sometime.'
'Certainly, Dr House.' I took the praise for what it was, ignoring my father's look of mortification as more than a few nurses took note of the conversation.
'Come on, House, I've got an appointment, can you take Ryan to Cuddy's office?' he asked as quietly as he could.
'It's fine, I already know where her office is. I'll be up in a few minutes, Dr House.'
He looked at me with a funny expression, like he didn't know what to say. I just ignored him and strode through the doors.