It was an unknown caller. In the middle of the night. And the phone was on the other side of the room. Just after a breakthrough pain episode he'd treated with a small dose of morphine. No wonder Greg House didn't answer. But the phone rang almost continuously for ten minutes, until the man rolled slowly and painfully out of bed to hobble down the corridor, leaning on the walls and wincing with each step. He grabbed the phone and snapped down it.
"What?"
"Is that Dr Gregory House?" came a man's voice. He sounded tired and frustrated.
"This is his phone, in his house"
"She said you would answer like that"
"Who?"
"Dr Cuddy. That's how I got this number. I'm afraid she thinks you're in trouble with the law!"
"Why are you calling? Who are you anyway?"
"I'm Pete Townsend, a social worker from New York. I need to talk to you about Stacy and Mark Warner"
"What's wrong?" House gripped the table hard, trying not to be worried and balancing his leg.
"I'm afraid that they both died in a car accident earlier this morning"
"No..." House whispered. He knew he didn't stand a chance with his ex, but he had loved her, perhaps even more than he loved Cuddy.
"I'm very sorry. I'm really here to talk about the arrangements for your son"
"My what?"