Author's Note: I knew I wanted to run House through downtown Indy because of my familiarity with each of the places he winds up visiting, but as I was reading up on the IHS to remind myself what was there, I had to smack myself in the head. I'd forgotten Hoagy Carmichael and Cole Porter were Hoosiers! DOH! There really is a museum worker who dresses up and plays the piano as Porter, and guests are welcome to sing along if they wish.

House's leg was aching by the time they reached the Soldiers and Sailors monument. The distance hadn't looked that great on the map but now he was regretting agreeing to walk. He paused on the sidewalk to look up at the structure, which sat in the center of a small square. The road split to go around it. He remembered Ginger saying that the governor's mansion had once sat there and shook his head. It must have been like living in a fish bowl.

They crossed the street and took their time walking around the outside of the building. Ginger didn't seem to be in any hurry to get inside and they made a full circle, taking in all of the carvings and statues. House tipped his head back to stare up at the structure, squinting in the bright sunshine. The tower might have commanded quite a view once, but several larger buildings now dwarfed it.

The building's interior was cool and dark and it took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. House followed as Ginger led the way down a short stair-case to the basement. A small museum was located there, featuring displays about the Civil War, and they moved about the exhibits at a leisurely pace. House paused to study a poster, advertising Lilly's Hoosier Battery. He read the accompanying plaque and discovered that the battery's commander, Eli Lilly, had gone on to found the pharmaceutical company after the war. Now the company was providing the funding for the museum.

It didn't take long to see everything in the basement. House met up with Ginger near the entrance and let her lead the way back upstairs. His leg was throbbing and when he spotted a bench, he dropped onto it. Ginger sat down beside him, waiting as he rubbed at his throbbing leg.

"Are you going up or not?" he demanded, uncomfortable with her scrutiny.

"I'll go up in a minute," she retorted. "I want to make sure you're ok."

"I'm a cripple who's just walked 6 blocks," he snapped. "I'm peachy." He glared at Ginger and she glowered back. After a moment he sighed and looked down at his feet. Snapping at her was petty. It wasn't like she'd forced him to come along; she'd shown him how far it was on the map and he'd agreed to walk. He started when her hand covered his.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I guess we should have got a taxi after all." He stole a glance at her and found her face apologetic.

"Last time I checked I was a grown man," he replied, fixing his gaze on his feet again. "You didn't force me into anything."

"Yeah, but this was supposed to be fun, not painful."

"Just… go on up in the tower already."

"If you're sure…"

"I'm sure."

"Ok. I'll see you down here in a few minutes."

"Take your time," he answered, sitting back on the bench. He watched her walk over to the elevator, admiring the sway of her hips. When she stepped into the car, she turned to face the doors, giving him a sheepish wave before they closed. He sighed, shaking his head. What are you doing here, with her? he asked himself. You should go back to the station before you make an ass of yourself. Correction – more of an ass. He sighed again, feeling disappointment stab through him. Things had been fun, up until now. Up until you ruined it.

"Hey." Ginger's soft voice startled him and he looked up to see her standing in front of him. She gave him a hesitant smile and slipped onto the bench beside him.

"How was the view?" he asked, looking away from her.

"Obstructed," she said. "Stupid banks and their stupid big buildings."

"Ah."

"I'm still glad I made it up there. Thanks for waiting for me."

House shrugged, shooting a quick glance at her before staring back at the floor. "What else was I going to do?"

"I don't know. I thought you might call a cab and ditch me." The bench creaked a little as she shifted. He looked over to see that she'd hunched forward too, her elbows resting on her knees. Her hair feel forward like a curtain, hiding her face. "I did get the number of a taxi company from the guard up there."

"Oh."

"I thought we could catch a ride to the IHS," she said and he turned to stare at her. "That is, if you still want to have lunch with me." She flipped a section of her hair back over her shoulder and smiled at him.

"Ok," he said hesitantly.

"I'll make the call," she replied, sitting up and fishing her cell phone out of her pocket.

They went outside to wait for the cab, sitting on the wall beside one of the reflecting pools. It was a warm day for October and the sun was now directly overhead. House tipped his head back and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of the sun on his face and the occasional mist as a gust of wind caught the spray from the fountains.

"Damn," Ginger breathed. He lowered his head and opened his eyes to find her staring at him, a slightly dazed smile on her face.

"What?" he demanded.

"Never mind," she said, shaking her head and chuckling softly. "Just… never mind. I think I see our cab." She slipped off the wall and started for the yellow mini-van pulling up to the curb. House moved after her.

As they rode north toward the historical society, Ginger talked about the city's history. She leaned forward to point out the window at the state capital building and her chest brushed against his arm. An image of her that morning, with her t-shirt sliding off one shoulder, sprang into his mind. He found himself watching her instead of the passing scenery. After a few minutes, she started to grin.

"So, that's when the aliens came down and finished the construction for us," she said. House started to return her smile, until he realized what he'd just heard. His smile turned into a frown and Ginger began to laugh. "A-ha. That got your attention at least."

"Hardy har – very funny," he muttered, feeling his face growing warm. The cab pulled up to the curb and he fumbled with his seat-belt, eager to escape. Unfortunately, Ginger was blocking his exit. She'd removed her seat-belt but instead of sliding open the van door, she turned on the seat to face him. She was still chuckling.

"You've been sitting there undressing me with your eyes this entire trip," she told him. "You could have said you weren't interested in history and I would have shut up."

"Maybe he was too busy enjoying the view," suggested the cab driver, shifting to look back at them. "I might have too, if I hadn't had to watch the road."

"Right." Ginger rolled her eyes before turning to open the van door. House looked at the cab driver, who shrugged and grinned.

"Hey, Man. I tried."

House paid the cab fare and tip before following Ginger onto the sidewalk. The building in front of them was red brick, with arched windows on the second floor. The structure was obviously new but built in a style that blended well with the historic buildings on the block. A set of steps led up to what appeared to be a main entrance, but several large flower pots blocked the route. A small sign in one pot proclaimed "This is not an entrance" and directed them to use the east doors. House let Ginger lead him down a flight of stairs to a terrace overlooking the canal.

"Lunch first?" she asked and he nodded, following her into the building.

The room they entered reminded him of the hospital cafeteria, until he noticed the ceiling. It was painted dark blue and dotted with sparkling stars. Ginger slowed her steps to keep pace with him, leaning over to speak quietly.

"This is the Stardust café," she told him.

"As in Hoagy Carmichael?" he asked. He looked up at the ceiling again and smiled. They'd certainly done a good job creating the illusion of a night sky. "I forgot he was from Indiana."

Ginger nodded. "He played all over the state when he was a college student." She led him into the line for food and their conversation was cut off. Once they settled at a chair near the windows, Ginger took up the subject of music again. When House told her that he not only liked jazz but played piano, her eyes lit up.

"Wait until you see the Cole Porter room. It's set up to look like a 1940s-style cabaret and they've got an interpreter who dresses the part and plays."

"Another Hoosier musician," House said, nodding as he remembered. "From Peru?"

"That's right. Did you know Peru is also the circus capital of the world?" When he arched a brow at her, she laughed. "My mom was born there."

"But not you?"

"No," she said, chuckling. "What about you? Where did you grow up?"

"All over the world. My father was a Marine pilot." He felt himself grow tense just thinking about his father and was relieved when Ginger didn't seem to notice.

"My grandfather – my dad's dad - was in the Air Force," she said. "They moved around a lot when my dad was young, mostly in the States although they were stationed in Germany for a time. My mom met my dad when his father was stationed at Grissom."

"Let me guess – she was the bearded lady and he rescued her from a loose lion."

"Not exactly," she replied, chuckling. She reached across the table to gather up the remnants of his lunch, stacking their trays together in preparation for carrying them to a trash can.

"A tight-rope-walker?" he suggested. "She fell and he caught her."

"Nope." She shook her head at him, her lips twitching, and got to her feet. He followed, continuing to suggest outlandish meetings as she disposed of their wrappers and led the way up to the main floor of the museum. By the time they reached the Cole Porter room, his tension was gone.

The room was set up to resemble a 1940s night club, complete with an antique bar along one wall. House made his way toward it, going past a piano on the way. He settled on a stool, turning to watch as Ginger made a slow circuit of the room. There were pictures along the walls, showing Porter at various stages in his life. When House turned, he could see a slide-show playing on a flat-panel television behind the bar. He watched the slides go by, smirking at a few images.

The sound of a piano made him turn. A man dressed in a tux was seated at the piano and as he began to play, the few people in the room moved toward the instrument eagerly. The man was hidden from view as they assembled, and House smirked to see Ginger's hips swaying slightly to the music as she stood in the cluster.

He laughed when a few members of the audience began to sing, but his chuckles faded when he realized that one clear alto belonged to Ginger. He listened intently then, trying to pick her voice out of the crowd. Some of the visitors fumbled with the lyrics, but not her. She knew all the words to every song played. House leaned back on his stool, resting his back against the bar behind him, and listened. He was glad that the guests were all focused on the interpreter because he knew he was grinning like a fool.