House could feel people's stares trained on him as Stacy wheeled him out of the hospital. He wished desperately that they would go away. Stacy herself was dealing death glares to anyone who stopped more than a second longer than needed. Stacy pulled her car out from the hospital parking lot, trying to make the change from wheel chair to car easier. He stood shakily, putting all his weight on his left foot while turning his upper body and getting a good grip on the arm rest so he could slide into the seat.
The drive home was silent. House apartment had never felt so good to be in before. House wanted to eat something and then curl up in bed. Stacy rushed off to go find what was edible in the place; he idly flipped on the TV to see if there was anything good on. He wondered when Stacy would loose the mother hen attitude. After lunch, she helps him get into his pajamas. She starts to get up to go into the living room, but a hand on her wrist stops her, and a look that says please stay. She lies beside him, stroking his forehead in till he falls asleep. His face shows a slight trace of pain, but other than that, he looks relatively peaceful.
He wakes up with a full bladder. He also realizes Stacy isn't beside him. The alarm clock on the bedside announces that it's 4 pm. He's sleep for four hours, time for another pill, after he gets out of the bed. He has to think about how to maneuver himself into the wheelchair. It goes relatively well, in till he goes to sit down, and then the chair rolls backwards. He falls, making a very loud thunk as he hits the floor. Pain instantly shoots up from his leg, make him gasp. Stacy comes running when she hears the thunk. She's instantly at his side when she see's what happened. "Are you alright?" T here's a slight trace of panic in here voice. "I'll be fine. Help me up," he growls in response. She braces him on his right side, while he puts weight on his left. Sitting on the bed, he takes a couple of deep breathes, right hand settling on his thigh, trying to ease the sharpness in it. When Stacy speaks, there is anger in her voice. "You aren't supposed to put weight on it yet. You where just released today." "I know that. I was trying to get into it so I could use the bathroom." Stacy's faces softened, before getting up off the bed and bringing the chair closer. She holds it steady while he moves into it.
She decides to make dinner special. She makes meatloaf from a recipe handed down from her mother and grandmother. It did perk him up, and in effect, her too.
The alarm clock blares 3:23 at her. She knows that she needs to get back to sleep; she's going back to work today. Her eyes fall on the huddled form next to her in the king sized bed. She surprised he's still asleep. His face is twisted in pain, and he shifts on his life side, trying to find a way to be more comfortable and not succeeding. She considered letting him sleep, but then decided that he was going to get any rest if he spent all his energy fidgeting. She gently shakes his shoulder in till he shows signs of stirring. "Come on Greg, wake up." "What time is it" he muttered groggily. "Early. How's your leg" "it hurts slightly". Get up for a little bit. You have all day tomorrow to sleep.
He sits at the kitchen table, amusingly watching Stacy get ready to leave, after three days straight with her in the apartment,he's more than ready to have some time to himself. Stacy still hadn't lost the mother hen attitude. So, just to make things interesting, he had hid her keys in the napkin holder. She's looking everywhere for them, and she's getting desperate. "Greg, have you seen my car keys? I'm already late and I need to get going." He tried to keep the "I played a trick on you" grin off his face as he replied "try looking in the napkin basket." She retrieved her keys, picked her purse up off the table, placed a kiss on top of his bed head, and leveled him with a look that said "please don't do anything stupid while I'm work today." "Need anything call me, will you. " Aren't you running late?" Over her shoulder before she was totally out of the door, she said over her shoulder, "Have a nice day, I get to put with people who whine worse than you do."
Most of the day is uneventful. He watches TV, although he doesn't remember half of what he watched. Around noon, he decides to fight going stir crazy with music. He rifled through his music books, looking for something somber, something to match his mood. For the past couple nights, he's been writing a song, something that expresses him, why not play it now?
He was so absorbed in the music that he didn't even notice the sound of a key turning in the lock. Stacy had said she might come home from work for lunch, which she sometimes did when it was his day off or it was slow at work. She stands in the open doorway, listening as the music that had been light and smooth turned slightly darker. "He must have wrote it himself". The song came to a close, and only then did House open his eyes. "I didn't know you wrote music." "Only when I'm bored."