Trust and Control

by starhawk2005

Cameron lets House have full control over her. Note this is an unfinished WIP.

4. Chapter 4: Nightmare Becomes Reality

Trust and Control, Chapter 4: When Nightmare Becomes Reality

Author: starhawk2005

Summary: Stacy arrives on the scene with her sick hubby, and effects are immediately felt in House and Cameron's relationship.

Disclaimer: I own House and Cam and Stacy…no, wait, you mean I don't? Waaaaaaah!
Special thanks: Kudos to katakombs and no1_antielitist, for helping me to elevate this above the level of just, well…porn.
Author's note: Still AU, and spoilery for House S1.

WARNING: There's a section in the 'Nightmare' part of this fic that contains rather graphic violent images. Anyone who has ever been physically or sexually assaulted in the past may want to give that particular section a pass…it won't affect the continuity of the rest of the fic if you don't read it.

Prologue

A few weeks passed. Greg and Allison had settled into a comfortable routine. At work, nothing had changed and no one seemed the wiser. House was still a bastard to all three of his Ducklings (even the one that he was tying up and having sex with), still calling them out when they made mistakes, still being an arrogant jerk. Wilson suspected something, though, that much was clear to Greg, although Wilson hadn't confronted him yet.

In any case, somehow, at the end of the day, he and Alli would wind up together, usually at his place. He was still a sarcastic bastard, but she would laugh it off. He was still not big on talking about feelings, but Alli seemed content. They ate dinner and watched TV and made love and had bondage scenes that would probably scare Chase into an aneurysm...

It all felt so natural, so effortless, that Greg was rather taken by surprise when he was sitting in his office one day, waiting for the Ducklings to return with some test results, and he realized that he was happy. Or at least, content. When had that happened? He sat there for a few moments, all other thought processes arrested, actually wondering if this was a good thing. Being alone could suck, sometimes, but at least you had nothing to lose. You couldn't be betrayed, couldn't be hurt by your partner.

The Ducklings arrived with their test results, thankfully breaking him out of his ruminations...but the strange feeling of apprehension persisted, despite his efforts to derail that train of thought. Stop being stupid, he told himself. Alli isn't Stacy. We've already established that. So grow up and stop looking for things to agonize over.

Damned Cuddy and her damned med students. She'd stuck him with some damned class to teach, and he was neither prepared nor interested. Then only saving grace was that he was spared clinic work, but...would this really be less of a waste of his time? At least clinic patients could occasionally be interesting, could occasionally give him insights into how to deal with his diagnostic medicine cases...

Brenda at the clinic reception desk was trying to get his attention. "Dr. House, there's a patient-"

Time to make this damned class pay off. "I'm outta here. Take it up with Cuddy."

That was when the familiar voice spoke behind him. The voice he had hoped never to hear again. The voice that made ten kinds of hate and ten kinds of love whirl inside his head like some kind of insane merry-go-round. "Greg."

He turned around, and there she was. Stacy. His Stacy. Or, perhaps more accurately, not his Stacy, anymore. A thousand cutting remarks flooded his throat. Hey yourself, Ice Queen. Come to offer me a new thigh? Or maybe: Well, look who came crawling back into Princeton . Stripping not meeting your financial needs anymore? Maybe even: I have a new girl now. Maybe you heard. She's much prettier and younger than you, and doesn't make a habit of backstabbing men while they're comatose. But he said none of those things, just "Hi, Stacy."

He had never been good at reading people's emotions, and this time was no exception. She looked...expectant, sad, glad, and nervous, all at the same time. "How're you doing?" she asked him.

Another thousand responses tried to come to the fore, but he made an effort to keep things light. Detached. Don't let her know how freaked out her sudden appearance was making him feel. First, the self-doubts this morning, and now this. "How am I doing? Well, the last five years have been like… you ever see those "Girls Gone Wild" videos?" Except it's only one girl. One girl, and several piles of rope.

She smiled, a little. "Your life's been like that, or your life's been spent watching them? I have missed you."

God, don't tell me she's suddenly decided that she wants me back. "Is that why you're here?" Not sure that he really wanted to hear her answer.

But she shook her head. "I need your help." And then she was handing him some x-rays. He bit back a sharp retort - You take my thigh, and then you come running to me to help you? - his interest already piqued. He limped over to a nearby desk to take a look. "Who am I looking at?"

"My husband." she replied. And the mix of sadness and relief he felt threatened to drown him. He forced it away.

"Who is suffering abdominal pain and fainting spells. No sign of tumors, no vasculitis. Could be indigestion, or maybe a kidney stone. A little one, can pack a lot of wallop." Just take your husband and go. I don't need you spoiling my happiness again...I can do that all on my own, thank you very much, Stacy.

She seemed even more sad. "Did you think I wasn't going to get married?"

No, I was hoping that you'd spend the rest of your days alone and lonely and watching period romances on TV while knocking back bottle after bottle of cheap vino. "Not to someone so poorly endowed. This guy's pancreas is pathetic." Already tiring of this, House started to walk away. He had a class to teach. Better than shooting the shit with the woman that ruined his life.

But she was as stubborn as him. "There is no kidney stone, no indigestion. Three hospitals, five doctors, not one of them found anything."

"Well, maybe there's nothing to be found." Get the Hell away, Stacy, I don't want to deal with you right now. You and the new hubby.

Stacy spoke sarcastically. "Right, you suddenly trust doctors, love puppies and long walks in the rain."

He felt suddenly angry. How dare she come and drop this on him? "The walks are out." he said curtly, hoping to hit her guilt button.

But instead, she grabbed his arm. "I was around you long enough to know when something's not right. Mark's had personality changes, he's acting strange, disconnected…"

Let go of me. "Interesting. It means there's either a neurological component or-" he couldn't resist - "he's having an affair."

"No affair, no nothing! He's sick! I know you're not too busy; you avoid work like the plague. Unless it actually is the plague….I'm asking you a favor."

This, he told himself, is what comes of letting someone get too close to you. They know you too well. And then a really demonic inner voice added: See? This is what will happen if you let Alli all the way in. Is that what you really want?

He decided to tell Stacy the truth - the whole truth - in the hope that she'd give up and go." I'm not too busy, but I'm not sure I want him to live. It's good seeing you again." And then he limped off to teach the class.

At least she didn't try to grab him or follow him, this time.

He did his class. He hadn't intended to present his own case, but seeing Stacy had evidently brought it all to the forefront of his mind, so he just decided to go with it.

He'd snapped at Alli when she'd jumped into the fray. Partly because she was wrecking his case presentation - no one at the time had thought of muscle death, ergo no one had bothered to examine that possibility, and thus no point in bringing it up. Even though he couldn't help thinking that Alli had effectively 'saved' him during the lecture. He'd been ready to whup those hapless med students with his cane, and she'd jumped in and calmed him down. She'd brought him back to reality. And yet, he couldn't help wondering: would she have come up with the muscle death diagnosis had she been his doctor back then, and saved his leg? Or had she only thought of it now because they were a part of each other's lives, and thus his own muscle death could never be far from her mind? But his other reason for snapping at Alli had been because he suddenly wanted to be left alone - no Alli, no Stacy, no Cuddy, no Wilson, even. He wanted some time to sort out his thoughts. Maybe even presenting his own case had been part of that, trying to remind himself what Stacy's duplicity had cost him. But would this really insulate him from Stacy, if he did help her and her new man? Or would he just wind up damaging his relationship with Alli?

And so he was pissed at himself for taking his anger and frustration out on Alli, who didn't deserve it. Although he supposed she was used to it by now.

He also wasn't too keen on the fact that his entire team had just been witness to his personal history. Wilson and Cuddy already knew, and now that Alli had sat in on the class and witnessed his case, this saved him from having to eventually rehash that painful part of his history with her. But having Chase and Foreman listening in, as well?

Still, he did his job. He presented his case, he taught those hapless (useless) med students a thing or two, and even got to snark at Cuddy, the author of his misery (in many senses of the word). And then he headed off to his office.

He wanted to go home, wanted to see Alli and apologize and take comfort - if he could - in her arms. But Stacy had come to him for help, and his warring emotions wouldn't leave him alone. And he wanted peace and quiet in his own mind, before he left the hospital.

Should he just let sleeping dogs lie, and not help Stacy? But wouldn't that prove to her just how much she'd gotten to him, how much she'd crippled him? If he saved her hubby and let them get on with their lives, wouldn't that make him a hero? More, wouldn't that be the right thing to do? (As Alli herself had said, he did things because they were right). Besides, it was a puzzle, and he loved nothing more than a good puzzle…except, of course, for tying Alli up and 'tormenting' her until she screamed his name and came hard. But the fact remained, he'd become crippled for life as a result of no one trying to solve the puzzle of his leg pain, and now if he ignored Stacy's case, wouldn't that make House no better than the doctors that had ignored him in the early days of the infarction?

But if he did try to help her, did he really want to succeed? He knew that he wanted her to pay, to suffer. Could he really trust himself to do right by her husband, when that could be a potential way to make her hurt? And although he hated her, he still loved her, in a way, too. How would Alli react? And was there really a possibility that he'd fall back in love with Stacy, just from being around her again?

But what finally convinced him, was the thought that the best revenge might be to show Stacy that he'd moved on. And in some ways, he had. He was no longer at home, sitting in the dark and playing piano and knocking back Scotch and Vicodin in equal measures. He was a Department Head, saving patients' lives. He had a new woman in his life, and they got along well. Very well. Better than he might ever have anticipated. He'd even go so far as to think that he loved Alli...even if he was unable to say the words out loud. And if he took Stacy's case, helped her husband, and sent her on her way, wouldn't that show her how he'd healed himself (doctor, heal thyself) and overcome the damage she'd caused him?

And so he finally picked up his cell phone and left a message on her machine. "Stacy, it's Greg. I've got an opening for ten tomorrow morning. Make sure your husband isn't late."

There, that's taken care of. Now to pack up and head home...

Allison made it home - Greg's home - before he did. Which gave her plenty of time to wonder what was wrong. For starters, that morning at PPTH, he'd been quieter than usual. She'd caught him watching her a few times, which wasn't itself all that unusual, but the way his eyes had jerked away when she'd looked up to meet his gaze had been odd.

He'd disappeared soon after lunch, which had caused some consternation among herself and her fellow Ducklings, as they had no cases to occupy them at the moment. Foreman had just looked irritated and picked up his copy of The Da Vinci Code, and Chase had started tackling a new crossword puzzle. Allison had felt restless, though, after Greg's strange behaviour that morning, and so she poked around the Clinic until Brenda told her that House was teaching a class.

Curious, she'd snuck in the back. And once it became evident to her that he was talking about his own case, his own leg, she hadn't been able to resist butting in. His attempt to discount her diagnosis didn't faze her all that much - that was, after all, typical of him at work - and besides, she was too busy trying to take in all this new information about her boyfriend and boss.

She wasn't the one who told Eric and Chase what was going on - in fact, she suspected Wilson had been involved - but once they showed up, she kept her mouth shut and her expression interested but detached. If she got too emotional, they might suspect something, and she didn't want to 'out' her relationship with Greg to the rest of the team, before Greg was ready.

Finally, he'd finished the class, snarking at Cuddy as usual on his way out. And Allison hadn't seen him since, finally leaving at 5pm when it became evident that there were still no cases pending.

And so here she was, cooling her heels on Greg's couch, wondering when/if he'd be home, wondering if she should call him...and then she heard his key in the lock.

She resisted the urge to jump to her feet and race to the door. But her heart was going faster than she would have liked it to, as he opened the door and limped in, looking even more drawn and haggard than usual. "Tough day?" she asked softly.

He jumped a little, and she realized he hadn't registered her presence, not until she had spoken. "Yeah." There was a pause, while he sat down heavily on the couch next to her, not meeting her eyes as he dumped his jacket and blazer over the arm of the couch, and then took off his sneakers. Finally, he glanced up at her as he rolled up the sleeves of his blue button-down shirt.

She moved closer to his side, reaching out to massage his shoulders. He sighed and let his head drop, eyes closed, and she felt him gradually relaxing under her hands. He took one of her hands then, and kissed the back of it lightly, and then urged her to put her feet (carefully) on his lap, so he could return the massage.

She let her head loll back against the armrest of the couch, letting her own eyes close and her mind wander, until Greg said, "Alli."

She opened her eyes to find him fixing her with that intent look she knew so well, but then he dropped his gaze back to her feet, as if embarrassed.

"I'm...sorry I snapped at you. In the diagnostic class today. I didn't mean to."

"It's OK. That must have been difficult for you, to talk about your own experiences. But I think the students found it very valuable. I certainly would have, if I'd heard anything like that in my own med school days." Resisting the urge to ask him why he'd chosen his own case - the urge to ask him about his odd pensive behaviour that morning, about the way he'd disappeared right after the class.

He was silent again, but she knew by now that the best way to get something out of him was to wait. And her strategy was rewarded when he finally answered, "I didn't do it for them. I did it for me. I saw..." He paused for another interminable moment, still looking down at Alli's foot in his hands, and then continued. "I saw Stacy at PPTH today."

The name didn't mean anything to Alli, as he hadn't named any names while discussing his own case. And he must've remembered this, too, as he saw the confused expression on her face, clarifying. "Stacy. The woman I used to live with. The woman who waited until I was in a chemically-induced coma to order a surgery that I hadn't authorized and didn't want."

Her heart seemed to have stopped beating. The woman whose betrayal had crippled him, both in body and emotionally, there at PPTH? "What did she want?"

He sighed, carefully lifting her feet off his lap, and then grabbing his cane and getting back up to his feet, stalking over to his piano and the bottle of Vicodin on top of it. "She wanted me to treat her husband," he said quietly back over his shoulder at her.

"That's….cold." Allison said. Not sure if that was the right thing to say….or if there even was a right thing to say. But that was the first reply that came to mind. And a reply seemed needed.

"It's…something." Greg said, but he didn't elaborate.

Allison got up off the couch, walking over to him as he dry-swallowed Vicodin, as he started to absent-mindedly pick out notes on the piano here and there.

She hesitated, but could not resist asking, "What are you going to do?"

He said nothing for a moment or two, but then replied: "I'm going to help him. Or try to help him."

She nodded, although his back was to her and he didn't see it. Of course he will, she thought. That's what he does.

Later, they ate dinner, but it felt strange to Allison. He was silent, pensive, and seemed a little sad. Her attempts to draw him into conversation were met with monosyllables and grunts, and she finally gave up.

They watched a movie later, but she could tell that Greg wasn't mentally in the room with her, and she started to feel angry. Stacy wasn't even here, and she was managing to 'steal' Greg (mentally, at least) away. And Greg hadn't even started treating her husband yet!

But underneath the anger were two other, even worse, emotions. Jealousy and fear. Jealous of the hold Stacy seemed to have on Greg. Sure, he wasn't usually very outgoing or warm or chatty, even when it was just Allison and himself alone at his place, but this degree of withdrawal was extreme even for him. What had this woman been to him, that he was still so hung up on her?

And then came the fear. Was his current behaviour a symptom that he still had feelings for Stacy? Despite what she had done? And if so, how could it impact his feelings for Allison?

Later on, she climbed into bed with the still-silent Greg. She hesitated, but decided to make a last-ditch effort to connect with him, to try and melt the sudden distance between them with love and warmth. She waited until he turned out the lights, and then shifted carefully over until she was against his left side. Reaching her hands under the sheets to caress him, finding his face carefully in the dark and kissing him.

But he was unresponsive under her hands – the first time that had ever happened - and only sluggishly reacted to her kisses. And the seed of fear in her grew.

Still, she tried to push the fear aside, tried to touch him, to arouse him (to assert her claim on him?)…but after some moments, Greg took her hands and gently removed them from his body, cupping her hands in his, and gave her a firmer kiss as he eased her back onto her side of the bed.

"I'm sorry, Alli. I'm just….not in the mood right now. I'll make it up to you later, I promise."

She wanted to say it was OK, that she understood. But it wasn't, and she didn't. How many weeks of this crap did she have to look forward to, if Stacy's husband's case wasn't solved quickly? Worse, did this spell the beginning of the end of her relationship with Greg?

She didn't want to ask, but she had to know. "You still love her, don't you?"

Silence reigned.

And finally Greg said, "Yes, I do…but I…hate her, too."

Allison said nothing. What reply could be made to that? What did you say when your boyfriend admitted to having feelings for another woman? When he couldn't hold a conversation with you, or bear your hands on him, once that woman had come back into his life?

"It'll be okay, Alli. Go to sleep." And he moved away from her, right to the edge of his side of the bed.

She wanted to believe it would be OK. She did. She rolled over and tried to sleep….tried to push the demons out of her head, to have faith in Greg…

Nightmare

WARNING! Graphic violent images….avoid if you might be triggered, and kindly skip ahead to the next section, 'Reality'…

Allison had no idea where she was. Eyes blurry, she could barely make out anything at first. It was dark, but she thought the walls around her were white. She seemed to be on a table, but she couldn't move.

She blinked and shook her head, trying to get her vision to clear - trying to focus. What was going on?

As her awareness increased, she realized she couldn't move because she was tied down. Her wrists secured to the table somehow. Her legs propped up in some kind of...stirrups?...and also tied. She couldn't see exactly how she was bound, as there was a sheet draped over her, covering her entire body and the table.

She was cold, and then realized why - under the sheet, she was naked. Starting to feel afraid, she debated whether she dared to call out for help.

Suddenly, light came streaming into the room, and Allison realized a door had been opened. By the light, she saw that she was in one of the PPTH exam rooms. But why was she naked? Why was she tied down?

The room darkened again, as a tall figure limped in, and closed the door behind it. The thumps on the floor, as the figure made its way toward her, fueled the realization that her visitor was none other than Greg. What was going on?

He turned on a small light in the corner, throwing the room into a mix of light and shadows, and then turned and moved slowly towards her.

"Greg," she croaked, her voice, like her eyes, not wanting to cooperate. "What's going on? Why am I tied down? Why am I here?"

He didn't seem to have even registered that she'd spoken, just moved closer. The light fell half on his face, leaving the other half in shadow, and that's when Allison saw the strange icy-cold expression on it. She'd never seen him look like that before, and she felt her fear ratchet up another notch.

"You hurt me, you bitch. Stupid slut." His voice a low, rumbling growl. Like the time he had hidden in his own apartment, pretending to be a kidnapper/rapist, and had jumped her unexpectedly from the dark…except somehow, this was light years away from that night. "And now, you're going to pay. Now, you're going to hurt." One hand gripping the cane, he used the other to wrench the sheet off of her, throwing it onto the floor.

She could feel his eyes on her naked flesh, but it wasn't arousing or exciting. It was frightening.

"Greg, please...".

Again, he didn't even seem to have heard what she said. He limped forward until he was standing right between her legs. "You'll pay." he repeated.

He did something to her then, to her unprotected sex, that made her shriek in agony. She writhed against her bonds, begging him to stop, not understanding why he was hurting her, not even sure how he was hurting her...

But it went on. Pain on top of more pain, until nothing but screams and whimpers came spilling from her lips. His laughter – laughing at her agony – ringing in her ears. Why was he doing this to her? Why wasn't anyone coming to help her?

Her blurred eyes cleared enough to show her his face, his cruel, twisted smile, his clothing and skin spattered with her blood, and she felt her mind threatening to give way...

She didn't know how long he tortured her for, but finally, she realized through the haze of pain and fear that he wasn't just damaging her, wasn't just destroying the part of her that made her female...he was killing her...

Weak. She felt so weak. And there was nothing left but the red of her blood, and the pain, filling every part of her body and mind...she gave one last scream, wrenched out of lungs and throat, knowing that no one was going to come and save her, knowing that she was about to die at the hands of the man she loved...

Reality

Allison jerked awake, her final scream echoing loudly in her ears. The room was dark and cool, and she struggled for a minute, convinced she was still tied down, still being hurt, but after a few moments, she realized it was only bedsheets, twisted and tangled around her limbs.

She stopped, putting her face in her sweaty palms, trying to slow her heart rate, her breathing…and then the hand fell on her shoulder and a voice – House's voice – said, "Allison?"

The horror of the dream was still heavy on her, so much so that for a moment, the only thing she could think of was getting away, running from her torturer. She jerked away from his hand, trying to get off the bed, but her feet were still tangled in the sheets, and instead of getting away, she wound up hitting the hardwood floor with a painful jolt, crying out in panic and shock.

Behind her, House sounded pretty panicked, himself. "Alli!" There was the rustle of bedclothes as he struggled to come to her aid.

House had no clue what was going on. He'd been asleep one second, and the next, Alli had been screaming like one possessed. And when he'd tried to touch her, to comfort her, she'd gotten this look on her face of total terror, and fallen out of bed trying to get away from him. What the Hell? He shifted over until he was on her side of the bed – noting that the sheets were damp and cold with her sweat – and then swung his legs over the edge, swallowing a groan as his thigh gave a warning twinge. He wanted to reach for her, but held himself back, wanting to make sure she was awake so he wouldn't scare her again. "Alli." he said again, trying to coax her towards him.

The hard impact on the floor had jolted most of the residue of the nightmare from her head, but her legs, which had taken the brunt of the impact, ached, and her pulse and breathing were going alarmingly fast. She was naked and cold, and she could even feel tear-tracks on her cheeks. She let her hair fall over her face, not wanting Greg to see her like this, especially given his earlier silence and distance. "I'm fine." she said, trying not to let the strain show in her voice.

Worry made his voice sharper than he wanted. "Yeah, it's totally usual for you to wake up at- "he glanced over at the clock radio, "-3:30 a.m., screaming blue murder and falling out of bed."

Damn him. "I'm fine, I told you. Go back to bed." Leave me to sort this out on my own. It's what he had been doing to her all night, anyways, so why not return the favour?

He shook his head. This wasn't working. He tried a different tack. Softening his voice, he said, "No. Come back up here, let me help you. You must've given yourself a good whack on the floor, falling out of bed like that."

She glanced up from under her hair at him, and saw the strange soft-yet-stubborn look on his face. A look which said: "I'm gonna wait all night until you give me what I want." Sighing inwardly, she got up, moving slowly so as not to cause further pain to her traumatized legs. She got up on the bed, sitting next to him, and was a little startled at how quickly House put his arms around her, how tightly he was holding her.

You're such an asshole, he chided himself. Your damned ex makes a reappearance in your life, and you shut out your girlfriend almost completely as a result. Grow a fucking backbone, Greggie. He held Alli tightly, wanting to let her know without words that he loved her, that it was all OK, that Stacy's presence didn't change anything between them.

She was still sweaty, but he didn't care, holding her close, listening to her breathing slow. He released her with one hand, so he could use it to check her legs, particularly her knees. She winced, but the skin wasn't broken. A little bruised, he thought. That's all. Now came the hard part.

Alli was finally awake enough to accept Greg's closeness without freaking out, without confusing dream-House with reality-House, so she didn't try to pull away when he held her, when he touched her sore legs. And she vastly preferred the current, cuddly version of Greg that was holding her, to the cold almost-stranger she'd been with most of the night.

"That must've been one Hell of a nightmare," he said, trying to sound casual, although he really wanted to know what was up. "If there isn't a neighbour who's calling the cops, I'd be damned surprised. You sounded like someone was trying to kill you."

Alli stiffened at this last statement, drawing a little away from him. She did not want to discuss this with him.

"What was the dream about?" he asked her. Trying hard to be the supportive boyfriend, instead of the arrogant diagnostician. But she shook her head and stayed silent. "C'mon, honey, tell me. Tell me what scared you so bad." Because that's what good partners do, they support each other. Not like what Stacy did.

He was wearing that stubborn expression again, and she knew that he wouldn't let them go back to sleep until he had his answers. And since they had to get up and go to work in a few hours, she wearily decided just to tell him and get it over with.

"I was...I was in a room at PPTH. One of the exam rooms, I think." she started, again tilting her head down so that her hair covered her face and blocked House's view. "I had been drugged or something, my vision was all blurry. And I was...tied down. To one of the exam tables, except it had been set up like it was being used for an OB/GYN consult or something. And I was...". She had to pause, to swallow. "I was naked. And then...someone came into the room, and started hurting me." Maybe he won't ask me who was hurting me. "They were hurting me really bad, and I was screaming. I couldn't get free, I couldn't stop them, and no one was coming to help me. And then I woke up." No need to tell him that she'd dreamed she was being murdered.

A funny cold feeling had settled in the pit of House's stomach. A hunch that she wasn't telling him everything. Maybe it meant nothing that she'd jerked away from him in such terror...or maybe it meant more. "Who was hurting you, Alli?"

She said nothing, still hiding her face from him. So he reached out, sweeping her hair aside, taking her chin in his hand, and raising her face up. But she still wouldn't meet his eyes. "It was me, wasn't it?" He finally asked her, following his hunch. "I was the bastard in your dream."

She still didn't look at him. "Yeah." she said, quietly, defeated.

He released her chin, and she let her head drop again. No doubt he'd add this to whatever baggage he'd brought home with him this evening, and just be even more distant. Just great, she thought.

"Do you really think I would do anything to hurt you? I promised that first night that I wouldn't, remember?" he asked. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized what an idiotic question that was. Hadn't he been hurting her, by shutting her out all night?

"Well, as I recall, you did hurt me - as I recall, a certain someone dressed up like a kidnapper and spanked the Hell out of me - what do you call that?" She wanted to take it back as soon as she'd said it - she didn't really mean it, she was just tired, disoriented from the dream, feeling isolated after the near-silent treatment from him all evening...

She was right. He'd broken his promise to her, hadn't he? And that had been before Stacy had even arrived. And here he'd been worrying that Allison would somehow hurt him. More like the other way around. But he still tried, almost out of pure reflexm to defend himself. "There's pain, and then, there's pain, Alli. And I did leave you an out...two outs, as I recall. One, you had your safeword, and two, you didn't have to try to escape me. I gave you fair warning. What else could I have done?" God, he felt like crap. He had to be the suckiest partner on sadness she heard in his voice made her want to reach out to him. She wasn't ready to forgive him, yet, for the weirdness between them all evening, but it really hadn't been fair of her at all to suggest that he was brutal enough to truly harm her physically. "I'm sorry, Greg, I didn't mean that. I know you would never really try to hurt me. And I liked the spanking. I did ask for it, after all, in my indirect way." She smiled at him, a little, hoping that would be enough, and that he'd let it go and let them get back to sleep, hoping that everything would look better in the morning.

She looked exhausted, and his guilt increased. "C'mon, let's lie down." Her side of the bed, as he shifted himself along it, was still cold and damp. I can't let her sleep there, he thought.And besides, he wasn't ready for sleep, not yet.

Allison had just started to try to settle herself down on her side of the bed, and she barely had a chance to flinch at the unpleasant dampness of the sheets - Boy, I really scared myself with that dream, didn't I? - before she felt House's big warm hand wrapping itself around her upper arm and drawing her over to his side of the bed...and right up against his chest.

And then he was kissing her, slowly and gently, and running his hands up and down her bare back.

She wasn't sure at first what he was doing - was this the same man that had rejected her advances mere hours ago? She wanted him, but found herself holding back.

Greg noticed Alli was hesitant. Normally a kiss or two was all it took, and she'd be wrapped around him like a hungry boa constrictor, drinking in every kiss and caress he had to offer. And now he couldn't help feeling a little rejected by her sudden relative coolness. God, he thought, now I know how she felt, earlier, when I wasn't in the mood. And I blew her off entirely, unlike what she's doing now. Because she was kissing him back, touching him, just not with her usual degree of eagerness. Yep, I'm definitely an asshole. Maybe I should change my door sign at PPTH. Something like, 'Gregory House, Department of Assholoric Medicine'.

So he did what he could to let her know that he cared, that he wanted her, that he found her desirable. Long slow kisses and long lazy caresses, everything as drawn-out and sensual as he could possibly make it, until she was sweating again, but not with fear. Until her arms were wrapped around him, and she was kissing him with her usual passion, until she was climbing on top of him to take the pleasure he'd denied her earlier. Until he was inside her as deep as he could go, and she was calling out his name, and they collapsed together, her falling asleep in his arms. And even then, although he usually moved away from her to sleep, to ensure that she couldn't hurt his thigh by accident (and it was already protesting their activities vigorously), he moved as short a distance away as he could stand.

What would I do if I lost Alli? Or rather, if I pushed her away?

Best not to find out the answer to that question.

A few days had passed - awkward days, for both of them.

For one thing, House had already scheduled two exams with Mark, Stacy's husband, and been stood up both times. Needless to say, this really pissed House off to no end. First, Stacy has to show up and rope me in, putting a strain on my relationship with Alli, and now I can't even move things forward.

He didn't know what he wanted to do about this, either. One minute, he was planning to call Stacy and complain that his time was being wasted, and the next, he was thinking of what had happened with Alli and her nightmare, and he found himself hoping that Mark and Stacy would just disappear. That maybe, if Mark continued to stand him up, and that if he ignored the slight, the whole problem would just go away. He knew better, though. Stacy wouldn't let it go. God, he hated being indecisive.

And that wasn't his only problem. Ever since her nightmare, Alli had been uncomfortable around him. At work, she was quieter than usual, and didn't stand up to him when he snarked at her, which was highly atypical. At home, well…first of all, she'd found an excuse not to come over, for two nights following the nightmare incident. He'd resisted calling her, wanting to let her have her space, if that would help. And when she'd finally come over on the third night, she'd been uncharacteristically quiet, distant. It's ironic, he kept thinking to himself, how she keeps doing to me what I did to her – I push her away in bed, she did more-or-less the same to me, I gave her the silent treatment and she does the same to me…and yet, he knew her well enough to know she wasn't punishing him or playing games, she was just…in a similar head-space to him, these days.

Which sucked. Sucked hard. House knew that although he still had feelings for Stacy, he wasn't going to go back to her - go crawling to the woman who had gone against his wishes, who had saddled him with pain and a limp for the rest of his life? Please, he had more sense than that. If anything, he wanted to strengthen his relationship with Alli, all the more because of Stacy's arrival (once he had gotten over the initial shock of seeing her, that is). He had been afraid at first, afraid of how Alli might hurt him, but now he knew the truth – it was himself he had to be afraid of. How he would ruin their relationship, how he might hurt Alli.

But now that Alli herself was afraid of him – not that he would hurt her physically, but emotionally, that was another story – he needed to do something to restore her confidence in him, in their relationship. He'd tried to make love to her that third night, and although she hadn't been hesitant or resistant, something had been missing. That deep level of connection had been toned down, at a time when he really really could've used it to forge a stronger bond between them, to reaffirm their link to each other, but now…

He wanted that deep connection. Craved it. He needed it against Stacy and Mark's continuing presence (if it continued), and so he knew what he had to do. He had to take Alli's control away, had to make her vulnerable, helpless. And then prove to her that he was worthy of her.

The seed of a scene had already been planted, in fact. That damned nightmare, he identified it as the point at which things between them had been weakened. Before it, she'd been worried, but she'd still had faith in him. Afterwards, she'd become afraid. So when he thought of how he could prove himself to her, the nightmare was the first thing that popped into his mind. In the dream, he'd had her totally helpless, but he'd hurt her, relishing her pain and fear. In House's mind, if he could put her in the same position again, but make her feel warm and cherished and safe, that would undo the damage the dream had wrought.

He pondered that idea for days, working it through in his mind. There were no outstanding cases (or at least, not until he managed to pin Mark down), so he had plenty of time on his hands (when he could avoid Cuddy and the clinic). He allowed his body to play Metroid Prime on the Gameboy, while his mind pondered the specifics of his plan – which room to use and when, what he'd use to restrain her, what he might do to her…

Although probably the most important specific of his plan – did he dare to do this? He'd already taken her close to the edge, surprising her in his apartment, pretending to be a 'kidnapper', not too long ago…and while that had gone amazingly well, that didn't mean she wouldn't freak out this time. What if he wasn't able to convince her to trust him? What if he wasn't able to prove himself?

But the worst question of all, was he putting his own needs before hers, and just being too thick-headed to realize it? Most men, when they wanted to prove themselves to their partners, they didn't tie them up and take away their control. Of course, House wasn't like most men, but still…should he just do the usual (trite?) thing, buy her rare flowers and extravagant jewelery and take her out for a fancy dinner at Princeton's most high-class restaurant? And then take her home and make gentle, tender, safe (boring) love to her while spouting the dreaded "L-word" over and over in her ear? Why aren't there medical textbooks for this sort of thing? he snarked to himself, scowling as Samus got her ass kicked again as a result of his distraction.

Allison was having trouble focusing at work. Not that there was much to focus on. They had no outstanding cases, and there was only so much of Greg's mail she could go through, before her eyes started aching. Even when she volunteered to do clinic duty, there was still plenty of time left for self-analysis.

Even though they had made love, even though Greg was talking to her again, things were still…off. Part of it was fear of the future – Stacy's husband hadn't materialized yet – or if he had, Greg was keeping the case to himself. And part of it was that the nightmare had stayed with her. She'd even kept herself apart from House for a few nights, hoping that distance would clear her head, ease her doubts, but it hadn't. She knew she wasn't acting the same around him, either, and was sure he had noticed. But she couldn't explain it to him. How could she tell him that a nightmare had changed her whole perception of their relationship?

It was true that she didn't fear for her physical safety with him, despite what had happened in the dream. Sure, he'd hurt – spanked – her in real life, but that was no big deal. Besides, she'd even enjoyed it. No, it was her emotional safety that she was concerned for. It's so ironic that Wilson was concerned for Greg's emotional health, that I might hurt him. He should've given that talk to Greg, not to me.

Although her nightmare seemed to have brought Greg back to her for now, what would happen when Stacy and Mark came to the hospital? If Mark was very ill, surely Stacy would be around constantly, would confer with Greg on a regular basis…and what effect might that have on the relationship between him and Allison? If he went all quiet and distant after one brief encounter, how would he be after seeing her for days on end? That was where Allison feared for her emotional safety. Because if he walled her off again, she wasn't sure how long she'd be able to put up with it. Thomas had done that towards the end, when his cancer had been devouring him at lightning speed, and so it had really felt like losing him twice…three times, actually. First, she'd lost him emotionally as he'd distanced himself from her. Second, she'd lost him intellectually, as the cancer had metastasized to the brain and his lucidity had gone, eaten away. And finally, complete loss as the cancer had claimed his life. Greg wasn't terminal, of course, but the parallels were painfully evident. Greg had left her emotionally already, once, and if Stacy became a regular fixture in his life, even for a short time, would mental and physical abandonment follow?

The nightmare had also started her thinking about other aspects of their relationship, things that might come back to bite her in the ass. In her dream, Greg had accused her of hurting him, and then taken his revenge. She hadn't hurt him (that she knew of), but Stacy had. Was she only a stand-in, a replacement for Stacy? And if she was, what did that mean, exactly? Was their relationship, despite all the good times they'd had, despite the deep affection she had caught glimpses of in his eyes, doomed to fail? That he didn't really see her at all? That he would dump her in a heartbeat if Stacy decided she wanted her old beau back?

Which led to further uncomfortable questions. In her nightmare, he had been very specific, attacking and damaging her genitals…was this her subconscious trying to tell her that their relationship was based on sex? It was true, they'd started things off in the bedroom, but she believed – wanted to believe – that it had been more. That even from that first night, it had been more. She wanted to believe that he'd loved her even before he'd bound her to his bed, but that he just hadn't allowed himself to express his love. Not until he'd felt safe, when she'd shown him just how much control she'd been willing to give up to him, how much trust she had in him. But if he really had wanted Stacy, all this time….it made it easier to think that Greg didn't love Allison the way she thought he did. That their relationship was not based on love and sex and intellectual intercourse, but that she was only a body to keep him warm in his bed, until the person he really wanted came back to him.

This isn't helping anything, she told herself. You don't know what he'll do. You don't even know if he'll take the case. He said he would, but that was days ago, and so far, nothing (that you know of). Greg wasn't Thomas, just as she wasn't Stacy. Greg had become emotionally distant, but her nightmare, at the very least, had yielded the positive result of getting Greg emotionally 'back into the room' with her. So things might go better than she expected.

Still, whenever she closed her eyes, she could see her inner demons, cavorting and grinning at her from the backs of her eyelids, and she knew it was going to be an uphill battle for her…

It's time, Greg told himself. It was Friday night, 3:25am, and he had figured that late evening (or early morning, if you prefer) would be the best time to carry out his 'treatment' plan on Alli. He already had the room all set up at PPTH, he just had to get Alli to go there with him.

Things had improved slightly between them over the last day or so, with her seemingly more comfortable, more like her old self, but there was still that hesitancy there. So he'd decided to carry out his evil plan no matter what, making all necessary arrangements…and now it was time to put it into action.

He reached across the bed, shaking Alli's shoulder gently. "Alli, get up, we have to go to work."

Allison felt a little disoriented when Greg shook her awake, but the urgency in his voice dispelled most of her sleepiness. She rolled over to find him already downing his Vicodin, and pulling on a tee shirt. "Emergency at the hospital?" she asked, throwing back the covers and opening the night-table drawer, in search of clean underwear.

"Yeah," he said, his back still to her. He didn't want to lie to her, but he also didn't want to waste precious time here, getting dressed and shooting the shit, and then getting caught in Exam Room Three in the midst of a scene when a few nurses decided to come in on time for once. "Let's roll."

Allison threw on some clothes and raked her hair back into a pony-tail, heading to the bathroom to quickly take care of her other needs while Greg finished dressing himself – jeans, blazer, Nike Shox.

She didn't seem to have noticed his lack of boxers, which was good. She also didn't seem to have noticed that he had their dirty clothes from earlier that day – both of their clothes – already packed in his bag. Just in case they got caught on their way out of the hospital, he preferred to have people think that they'd been there all night working on something legit.

Moments later, they were in the 'vette, and House was driving as fast as he dared towards the hospital, again trying to make sure he had a sufficiently wide window of opportunity to carry out his evil plans. Alli appeared too sleepy to question him, leaning her forehead on her hand, arm braced on the car door, eyes closed and letting the wind push her hair out of her face.

After parking the car, he ushered her into the building ahead of him, but then he moved ahead, leading her towards the clinic.

After only a few moments, it was evident that they weren't heading for the Diagnostic Medicine areas. What's going on? "Hey, House," - she always called him House at PPTH...even now, when there was no one around to hear - "are we actually going to visit a patient?" She tried to stifle a yawn. Why the Hell were they doing this so late - early- anyways?

"Something like that," he replied, struggling to act like everything was normal - struggling not to betray any nervousness or anything else that could tip Alli off. They headed towards the elevator, and he pressed the number for the floor with the clinic rooms, trying to keep his face blank, like he wasn't up to anything.

When they exited the elevator and Greg immediately went limping over to the clinic exam area, Allison felt a mixture of confusion and...nervousness. While she'd managed to see clinic patients in these same exam rooms all week, there had still been the occasional flashback to her nightmare. But that had been during the daylight hours, with Greg nowhere in evidence. Now, however, the clinic areas were dark, and here was Greg right in front of her, now unlocking the door to Exam Room Three. Allison's nervousness started to overwhelm all other emotions. Not that she was any less sure that he wouldn't hurt her, but still. This was highly unusual.

House unlocked the door and stepped into the darkened exam room, holding his breath. This was the first test. If she balked now, before anything even really got going...he stopped that train of thought, not wanting to pursue it. Taking deep breaths to maintain his sense of calm, he got to work. The stirrups he'd attached to the exam room table earlier that day - just before leaving for home - were still in place. The blinds were already shut, the door set to lock automatically behind Alli (if she came in). The room was warmer than usual, also his earlier doing. The lights, when he turned them on, were at the correct level of dimness. He didn't want to use a bright light, which might attract unwanted attention even with the blinds closed, but he needed enough light to see what he was doing. And so he wouldn't scare her. He put his bag up on the counter, opening it up, and pushing aside their clothes to search for the Ziploc bag he'd packed much earlier in the day, with all the 'tools' he'd thought he would need...all the while, listening for the muted click of Alli's heels to come walking into the room.

In the hallway just outside the exam room door, Alli froze. She saw the exam table with its stirrups first, and her unease ratcheted up another notch. She couldn't see House, but could hear something rustling. Finally, however, she told herself to stop being a coward. For one thing, Greg wouldn't hurt her - not physically. For another, she could always outrun him. And finally, this might not be what she thought it was. Wouldn't she feel stupid if and when, standing here trembling at the doorway of Exam Room Three, the patient and their family arrived? It was this last thought that convinced her to walk into the room.

House was in the midst of putting the Ziploc down on the counter and opening it, when Alli finally came in. He didn't take the towel - with the 'tools' wrapped inside - out of the bag, just paused, waiting for her inevitable questions.

As soon as she heard the door lock automatically behind her - and she saw that they were alone in the room, with that rather ominous stirrup-ed exam table, Allison decided it was high time she figured out what was going on. "Greg?" she asked, deliberately breaking her own rule about using his first name on the hospital premises. "You're up to something. Spit it out."

That was when he turned, and fixed her with eyes that looked so hopeful and somehow...desperate...that she no longer knew what to think. But then he shifted and the look was gone, and a more familiar one had taken its place - the same sly, lecherous look that he wore when he was about to suggest some naughty bedroom activity.

House let himself limp over to Alli, until he was standing right next to her side, towering over her. He made sure his voice was low but commanding, that tone which he'd noticed was always very useful for putting her in 'submissive mode'. Voice, don't fail me now, he thought. "That nightmare you had not too long ago seems to be affecting your work. You're not putting me in my place as much as you used to. And I, for one, won't have it." Hiding his true feelings behind the snark, as usual, but…

The familiar commanding tone in his voice was almost enough to dispel her fears. She'd become too conditioned to dropping everything (professionalism, discussions, medical supplies, pants) when he spoke to her like that. And the combination of his voice, with the way he was overpowering her just with his proximity - warmth, scent, sound - was almost enough to erase all the doubts that had been dogging her for days. Funny that she'd forgotten that he wasn't the type to express his love verbally, only physically, through his acts, and that she'd seen him more naked emotionally during their scenes than at any other time, but his presence was too distracting to allow her to finish her thought.

He could see the effect he was having on her, the way her breathing simultaneously deepened and sped up, her head drooping a little on her neck, her eyes closing. He noted the shudder that went through her as he edged even closer, leaning down so that his words and breath would brush against her ear as he spoke again. "Given the effect it has had on you, there's only one possible way to deal with it. I have to give you an exam, and then I have to administer the appropriate treatment."

At those words, some of Allison's unease returned...but not enough to make her want to run away, to put distance between herself and the man she was sure she loved.

Let's get this show on the road, before either of us chicken out. Although the fact that she'd let him overpower her, in a sense, so easily, made him feel better about doing this. He lifted his cane, using its length to nudge her gently in the small of her back, and directed her to walk over to the exam table, until she was standing between the stirrups, facing away from him. He wasted no time moving up behind her.

"I want to hear you say your safeword, Allison." A reminder that she had control, too, and that it wasn't him taking her control away, but rather her willingly giving it to him.

"Pineapple," she said, almost absent-mindedly, all of her attention focused on the man standing behind her, close enough that his breath stirred the hairs on the top of her head.

"Good." he said. And then he leaned his cane against the side of the exam table, next to Alli, and reached around to her front, starting to undo the buttons of her blouse.

Reality Bites...Well, Not Really

She couldn't think as he undressed her. Thinking led her back to the nightmare, and she didn't want to go there. Feeling was safer. She concentrated on the warmth of his hands, his body against her back. She shivered a little when he finally stripped her shirt off, but didn't try to stop him. Didn't want to stop him. Didn't even want to question him about the likelihood of them getting caught…

House undid the clasp of her bra next, letting his callused hands caress her arms as he pushed the straps down. He ordered her to stay put, shuffling away to lay her clothing on the counter, and to gather up one of the examination gowns from the clean pile already on the counter.

Moving back to her, he unfolded the gown and then directed her to hold her arms out in front of her, so he could slide the pale blue garment into place. He didn't bother to tie the lacings in the back, just grabbed her shoulders and moved her around until she was facing him. "Get up and sit on the edge of the table, between the stirrups."

His eyes were locked on her face, and the heat in them made her insides quiver, but she obeyed him, almost unaware of the throb of unease inside her, as one of her thighs brushed against a stirrup. Surely he wasn't going to make her put her feet in those…was he?

House slid his hands under the edge of the gown, searching for the waistband of her pants. Soon he had them undone and was slipping them down and off her legs, and then he tossed them over his arm as he made a similar expedition to remove her panties. He decided to leave her socks on. It didn't bother him if she wasn't totally naked. And besides, her feet had a tendency to get cold.

Allison watched as House limped away again, piling her clothes onto the counter with her blouse and bra. And then he was doing something at the counter, but his back was to her and she couldn't see what he was up to. The gown was a little rough on her skin, but overall she felt OK. The exam room was warmer than she might have expected, the paper on the surface of the exam table wasn't all that annoying, for once, and Greg was limping back towards her with that hungry gleam in his eyes…

Back in front of her, he placed some items on her lap, and she grabbed for them instinctively when they started to roll off…and that was when she realized that she was holding restraints. Hospital restraints, the kind they used to keep patients from hurting themselves or others. Her hands suddenly shaky and cold, she looked up to find House watching her, gauging her reaction. "Greg…I don't know if I can do this."

The fear in her eyes almost stopped him. Is this really what I ought to be doing, to bring us closer? he questioned himself. Had he damaged their relationship so much, that she would no longer trust him to take care of her? But despite his doubts, he made himself press on. He knew no other way to show her how he felt. "Dr. Cameron," forcing a casualness that he didn't feel, "it is imperative that we treat this…disorder of yours. And part of that treatment is to ensure that you can't move. Movement would invalidate some of the tests we're going to be performing."

For a moment she sat there, looking at him, letting the fear have free reign…and yet, despite the calm expression on his face, his air of clinical detachment, she saw that his eyes betrayed his true feelings, as they always had. If you looked close enough, that is. And now, searching his eyes, Allison saw the worry, the doubt, the fear. He's scared, too, she realized. Scared that he's doing the wrong thing? Scared that he might lose me? But it didn't really matter why. Just the fact that he, too, was afraid, told her something important. It told her that he cared about her, and that he was trying to reach out to her in the only way he was comfortable with – physically. And she knew that despite her recent doubts and fears, she still loved him, and she trusted him enough to let him have the control over her that he needed, to let him demonstrate physically what he felt in his heart.

Besides, she knew he wouldn't force her to do anything that she didn't really want to do. She could safeword and walk out of here at any time. This knowledge, plus the look in his eyes, helped to quell most of her fears. She nodded, letting him know that she was ready to continue.

Good, House thought. Masking his sense of relief and gratitude, he moved closer, holding his hand out for one of her wrists, and waiting until she put it into his hand before lifting one of the cuffs from her lap and buckling it around her slender limb. He repeated the process with her other arm, again waiting for her to voluntarily offer her limb for binding.

Cuffs in place, he ordered her to lie back against the table. He'd already set-up the straps that would serve to lock the cuffs to the exam table surface, and he was pleased to discover that no one had removed them in the interim. Once Alli's hands were secured to both sides of the exam table, he went back to the counter to retrieve the short lengths of rope he'd brought with him.

Back between her legs, he paused, holding her gaze as he held his hand out for one of her ankles.

Allison was already becoming aroused, but that didn't relieve her of all her hesitation. Until she met his eyes again. There it was, yet again, that softening of the normally hard cyan of his gaze, the look which had convinced her that he did feel something…that in fact, he felt a lot.

She gave him her ankle, and he placed it carefully in the appropriate stirrup, unhurriedly winding rope around the stirrup and her foot, making sure that she couldn't get free, but that it wasn't so tight as to be uncomfortable or to cut off her circulation. Once he was satisfied, he accorded the same treatment to her other foot. And then he backed off a few paces, pausing to get his mental bearings.

"We'll begin with an exam of your reproductive functioning. We've got to know how extensively this disorder has affected you." he said to her, as he went back to the counter a final time. This time, he took the towel with all his 'tools' wrapped in it, plus a few items belonging to the exam room itself – small flashlight, latex gloves – and placed them on a small wheeled trolley, pushing it ahead of him as he moved back towards Alli. He parked it within easy reach, and then grabbed a pair of gloves, leisurely pulling them on.

The sight of the gloves, and the snapping sound they made as he pulled them on, brought some unease back. Had the vicious House in her nightmare been wearing latex gloves? She couldn't remember…

House limped over to her left side, until he was standing next to her chest. He could see the rapid pulsebeat in her neck, and wanted to kiss it, but instead he gently grabbed the collar of the gown and drew it slowly down, baring her breasts again to his view.

She couldn't help gasping a little as she felt Greg's gloved hands on her, his face and touch oddly impersonal as he gave her a breast exam. And she felt her unease growing again. He had her totally helpless, her had her here alone…and now even their usual emotional connection seemed to have been lost.

He checked her other breast thoroughly, as if this really was a legit gynecological exam…but he couldn't restrain himself for long. He gathered her breast up in both hands for a moment, gently testing its plumpness, and then let one of his hands move to her nipple, softly tweaking it.

This isn't part of a standard gyne exam, Allison thought, moaning a little in her throat, shocked at how quickly this was arousing her. And comforted by the faint smirk she could see on Greg's face.

House moved to cup Alli's other breast in his hands, this time leaning down and tasting her nipple, sucking it into a hard peak as she shuddered, feeling her back arching a little under him in response. She was still a little nervous, but that was OK. So long as she was enjoying and nervous, he was going to continue carrying out his diabolical plan.

He straightened back up, and limped back towards Alli's feet again, snagging the little wheeled stool that had been against the wall on his way. Back between her thighs, he seated himself, not letting himself glance towards her face as he lifted the gown off her thighs and folded it neatly across her belly, exposing her entire sex to his view.

Allison squirmed a little, not really afraid any more, but the strangeness of being exposed to Greg this way, trussed up and in stirrups in an exam room right smack in the middle of PPTH, made her somehow feel even more naked, more exposed. He was doing something that she couldn't really see – her legs were in the way, but he seemed to be rummaging on that little trolley he'd dragged over earlier. Just like in the nightmare, when I couldn't see what he was doing…and then she quashed that train of thought.

House prepared the instrument for the next stage of his plan. It hadn't taken long to find what he needed on the internet. Apparently, there were enough people out there with cervical exam fetishes that when he'd decided to get a speculum of his own to use on Alli, finding a clear plastic one had taken no time at all. And thank God for express shipping, or he'd have had to wait much longer to carry out this little scene, enduring the strain between them the whole time.

He'd already sterilized it earlier, so now he held it in one hand for a moment, warming the plastic up a bit (although he was sure it would be already much less cold then a metal one), and rummaging with his other hand for his other online purchase – edible lubricant, mildly flavoured with strawberries. The usual lube they used in gyne exams was out – wasn't meant for ingestion, and probably tasted like crap anyways. Not that he was all that keen on strawberry-flavoured Alli, but this way, he could ensure the minimum discomfort on Alli's part, while also ensuring that he had no fear of letting his 'tongue do the walking', afterwards. So now he slathered the lube onto his new toy liberally, and then held the bills of the speculum tightly together as he prepared to insert it into her.

She had been expecting him to touch her, of course, but she couldn't help jumping a little as he spread her labia with one hand. And then he was gently sliding something cool and hard inside her, and she gasped in reaction. She felt her vagina being stretched a moment later, and as Greg locked the device open, she realized he was using a speculum on her, although it felt more comfortable than usual.

Alli seemed to be OK (he'd read somewhere online that inserting the speculum sideways – which was not typical gyne procedure – was actually more comfortable for the woman, so he'd already decided to try it out that way). He moved on with his 'fake' exam, picking the flashlight up from the trolley and making a quick visual check of her cervix. Nope, no problems there, he thought to himself. Amused at himself, that the diagnostician had stepped in for a moment, in the midst of the scene. And then he was unlocking the instrument and withdrawing it carefully from inside her, putting both it and the diagnostician away. "Your cervix looks healthy," he said to her casually, again acting as if this was a normal gyne exam.

Allison watched as Greg put the speculum down on the trolley. Feeling the anticipation coiling in her belly, wondering what he would do next. Something typical of the usual gyne exam? Or something much less AMA-approved and hot? The House she'd seen in her nightmare seemed pretty far away from this situation, indeed...

He turned back to her, and she felt his latex-covered fingers spreading her open again. And then came the quick brush of his finger over her perineum before he slid it inside her in one firm stroke. She tried not to react inappropriately, as he again was acting like this was just some regular gyne check, probing inside her carefully, pressing on her belly to feel for her ovaries...but then she gasped and arched her back, pulling against her bonds, as his thumb started to tease her erect clit with little round stroking motions...

He glanced up at her, letting himself smirk again, increasing the pressure of his thumb on her clit. "Everything seems normal in terms of your reproductive organ structure, Dr. Cameron. So now we have to assess whether the functioning of your organs is within normal limits. We'll focus today on how responsive you are."

If he'd wanted an intelligible reply, she was too distracted to offer one, straining against his hand as his thumb teased her, as the finger inside her sought out the most sensitive spots on her inner walls and caressed them.

House eased the stool back a bit, and then leaned over, replacing his thumb with his tongue, working it softly against her swollen node. He could taste the strawberry flavouring of the lube mixed in with the familiar taste of Alli, which was more annoying to him than he might have expected. He liked her just the way she tasted, and the adulteration with the fruit flavour pissed him off in no time flat. Oh well, he thought to himself, I'll just have to wash her clean...letting his tongue continue to toy with her sensitive node.

Allison twisted a little against her bonds, her nerve endings tickled by Greg's scratchy stubble, hot pulses going right through her as his tongue swirled around her clit, as his finger probed inside her. And whenever she looked down, there was that penetrating cyan gaze, dragging her in, drowning her…but what a way to go, she thought.

House had a free hand, so he slid it up, brushing it over the examination gown crumpled across her stomach, reaching out to stroke one of her nipples. I didn't touch them much before, he thought to himself, and I wouldn't want to neglect them…Boy, he hoped Alli was enjoying this as much as – if not more than – he was. She was becoming wetter and wetter by the minute (no more alien strawberry flavour, and Greg celebrated internally at that), panting, squirming in that delicious way that he just loved to watch. He could've sat there forever, face buried inside her sweet hot scented flesh…but they only had so much time before other staff might start to show up, so he regretfully pulled back from her, slipping his finger out of her warmth, dragging his tongue up her leg in one slow stroke, before starting to rummage on the trolley again.

He was sweating, even with just the blazer and tee shirt, and his erection had been aching in his jeans for so long that it was competing admirably with the usual ache in his thigh, but he stubbornly refused to break role. "Well, Dr. Cameron, I am happy to tell you that you appear to have a very mild form of this disorder. You're responding very well to all diagnostic tests, and I'm sure with a little 'treatment', we can clear everything right up."

Allison grinned, shaking her head a little at the serious look on his face…even as his eyes held a hint of amusement. She cleared her throat, and tried to match his serious tone, saying "I'm glad to hear it, Dr. House. What does this 'treatment' usually entail?"

"I'll show you, Dr. Cameron." And then he picked up another item from the trolley – something else he'd ordered online, this time at least a month ago. He'd been waiting for the right time to use it, and had decided that tonight's scene was the moment. It was a long, moderately-thick vibrator, with a soft silicon surface, and he had deliberately selected one with an interesting texture…he hoped Alli would like it.

There was a sudden quiet buzzing noise, and before Allison even had a chance to lift up her head to see what Greg was doing, he applied the buzzing little instrument to her clit. The vibrations immediately sizzled along her nerve endings, wringing the inevitable gasp from her lips, and she had barely started to process the sensation before Greg slid the tip of the vibrator down between her labia, and then slid it fully into her.

Oh…God…. She'd had similar toys on hand, back in the days of her singlehood, but she'd never had a lover actually use one on her before….and it certainly added something to the experience. Not only the feel of it inside her, sending tingling waves throughout her body, but also the sensation of Greg's eyes on her, watching her lose control…

He wanted her to come, and come hard, and he was still (as always) hungry for her, so his mouth was soon back on her clit again, sucking firmly as he turned the vibrator up to its maximum setting, pushing and pulling it slowly in and out of her, feeling her muscles resist him every time he pulled it out for another stroke…and then she was tensing, crying out, pushing her center against him as much as her bonds allowed, coming unglued under his mouth…

She slumped, sweaty and shaky and limp, and he pulled back, turning the vibrator off and easing it out of her, discarding it onto the towel on the trolley…when he turned back, he saw she was dripping so much that her juices were trickling out of her and starting to run down the undersides of her buttocks, and he leaned forward and licked up the errant drops, not wanting to miss a drop of her sweet buttery syrup, if he could help it.

She felt like she was floating, bound on the table and yet so relaxed…she didn't know why she had ever been afraid, why she had ever believed that Greg would ever be capable of harming her…she opened her eyes, wanting to apologize to him, but he spoke before she had the chance.

"So, I pronounce you cured, Dr. Cameron. But we really ought to administer a little 'preventative treatment', just to make sure that this doesn't happen again in the near future." While speaking, Greg tried to stretch out his weak leg a bit, without wincing. He didn't want to take more Vicodin, yet, if he could help it, but he also wasn't done with Alli…not by a long shot.

Apologies can wait, Allison decided. Besides, she knew he was too stubborn to deviate from his scene until he was done…or she safeworded. And she wasn't going to do that, just to apologize. Not when he probably had a couple more tasty tricks up his sleeve…

"Close your eyes." he ordered, waiting until she had done so, and then he grabbed a condom from the trolley, snagging his cane from the floor as quietly as he could at the same time. This might not be the best idea, he thought to himself, unrolling the condom over the handle of the cane, but she did like it when I was using my cane on her clit that first night….so all things considered, he was rather curious to see how she might like having it inside her. He'd brought his old cane with him (the handle had a much more gradual curve to it than his new one), on the off chance that he might want to try using it inside her, and he was very glad that she hadn't seemed to have noticed the switch.

He quickly thought through what would be the best way to do this. He didn't think there was any way he'd be able to manage a full insertion, not with her lying on her back like this – she 'curved' one way, the cane handle the other way. And if he tried to flip it upside down, with the rubber end of the cane pointing straight up into the air, and slide the handle into her that way, although the 'fit' would work, the cane was long and would be difficult to balance, without putting undo pressure on too-tender spots. He briefly considered untying her and getting her on her hands and knees, but then decided slow and steady should be the order of the day (night?) in any case. He'd just slip only an inch or two inside her, and if she liked it, he'd go for the 'full meal deal' in a future scene. Finally prepared, he eased the lips of her sex apart once again, and very very cautiously slipped the 'prescribed' number of inches into her.

Allison felt Greg spreading her wide, again, and then he was slowly guiding something hard inside her, stopping once it was a little way into her. Then slowly moving it in and out…No vibrations this time, and it didn't feel like a speculum or other medical instrument. He hadn't threatened any punishment for disobeying him this time, so she dared to open her eyes and try to see what he was doing. Not that it didn't feel good, because it did, but after his earlier trick with the vibrator, she was curious to see what other surprises he was going to pull on her.

Oh God, I can't believe he's using his cane….I can't believe that I'm actually liking it. Except that wasn't true, was it? She'd really really enjoyed the hard caress of the handle on her clit, many months ago…and now she was really enjoying the unyielding press of it inside her. She didn't know what was hotter, the actual sensation or the idea of what Greg was using to stimulate her, but she could feel herself flushing even more than usual, could feel her own fluids dripping out of her, and so she felt no hesitation in closing her eyes again, in pushing herself down against Greg's cane as much as her bonds would allow, in letting herself make 'happy' noises…

House took in her reaction. He'd been worried that even with shallow penetration, it might be uncomfortable or even painful, so he'd been watching her like a hawk from the initial moment of insertion. And now, while it looked like this was a rousing (ha-ha) success, he wanted – as always – to make absolutely sure. "Alli," he said. "Does this feel good? Are you liking this? Because I'll stop if you don't."

She opened her eyes, knowing what she'd see – that soft look in his eyes, the one that told her the depth of his feelings, underneath the actions. The silent promises that he'd never speak, but that she'd known were there, all along…she'd just temporarily forgotten. Definitely need to apologize, she thought again. Later. "Yes, Dr. House," she said, pretending to ignore his slip out of role. "Please, continue with your-" she had to stop for a moment, gasping as he moved the cane handle inside her just right- "treatment."

He caught himself smirking, but this time didn't bother to quash it. Screw the 'serious face', he thought. Pun intended. And then he was picking up another of his new toys, a small bullet-shaped vibrator, which he then turned on and applied to Alli's clit.

She yelped in surprise, but the feelings were so…unique…so intense, that there was nothing to do but take it in, the hard handle massaging the walls just inside her entrance, the tickle of the vibrations against her sensitive button. It didn't take long for her to get right on the edge…

House was waiting for that moment. He could've let her come again, but his own aching need had finally become too much for him. If he didn't get inside her soon, he was going to come in his pants like a randy teenager. And so he withdrew the vibrator, turning it off, and then eased the cane handle slowly out, quickly stripping the condom off the wood, in case his leg gave out and he needed to use his cane for its intended purpose.

Allison watched with half-lidded eyes as her lover stood up and shoved the stool away, as he quickly took off blazer and tee shirt and tore the gloves off his hands. And then he unzipped his jeans, and she couldn't help laughing at the realization that he had come here wearing nothing underneath them. "Do you always do these exams 'commando', Dr. House?" she asked him, her tone deliberately sultry and teasing.

"Only when I've got the really hot chicks trussed up on my exam table, Dr. Cameron." he quipped back at her, quickly putting a new condom to use on his throbbing hard-on.

As he moved into position between her thighs, she couldn't resist one last quip. "Is that instrument"- indicating his erection with a motion of her head – the only part of herself that was free to move – "approved by the American Medical Association, Dr. House?"

"Indeed. It's even been field-tested in many studies, using large sample sizes." He gave her a lopsided smirk, lowering his hands to grasp the cheeks of her ass, lining her up for entry.

Allison threw her head back, laughing loudly, and then choked it back down to quiet snickers as she remembered where they were. "God, I hope not," she shot back at him with a smile, "so many women for me to measure up to."

She hadn't intended that to be taken as a sign that she was comparing herself to Stacy (or any other key female figures in Greg's past), but he apparently thought that was the issue, as he paused and locked that penetrating look on her, the one that always made her feel like he could see right into her. But he only answered, "No contest. You'd win in a heartbeat."

And then she couldn't say anything, moaning and arching her back as he thrust into her in one deep stroke, stretching her open to receive him, her insides throbbing as his heat caressed her deep inside.

House had to grit his teeth for control, to pause inside her. Just for kicks, his back had begun to protest his early-morning hijinks, setting up an insistent counterpoint to the usual throb in his thigh. Oh well, at least the pain could work for him this time, as focusing on that, instead of how hot and tight Alli felt around him, would cool him off. So that he'd actually have some staying power.

Finally feeling in control, he started to move inside her. Resisting the urge to hurry, taking the time to stroke the insides of her immobilized legs, to brush his knuckles over her reddened clit, sliding his hand underneath the folds of the gown to splay warmly across her soft little belly, slipping back out from under the gown and over the fabric to caress her breasts, her nipples. And all the while continuing to move slowly inside her, their eyes locked, as he tried to will her to know what he was feeling, but was not yet (and maybe never would be) able to say.

Until the pressure built up behind his balls, and there was nothing to do but to go faster, pounding rapidly into Alli, teasing her node in earnest with the palm of one hand, pushing her over the edge so that he could feel her insides grasping at him, could feel her body trying to hold him inside her…

She bit her lip, smothering her cry of pleasure, feeling the spasms start in her womb and spreading out into her entire body, Greg's eyes still on hers, holding her, letting her know that he was there, there for her…the contact finally broken when his face twisted and he threw his head back, giving a strangled cry of his own as he surrendered to his own climax.

Greg lowered himself down onto her, still deep inside her, panting and flushed, but still taking the time to kiss her nipples, to stretch up and brush his lips over hers, before laying his head on her chest, his cheeks rough, wet with sweat.

He could hear her heartbeat, her breathing, and he wrapped his arms around her, around her ribs, sliding his hands under her shoulders, letting the sound lull him for a few long moments. Until his leg and back would no longer let him.

Allison watched, completely relaxed, as Greg slowly got up off of her, as he removed the condom and cleaned himself off with some wipes from the trolley, and then he pulled his jeans up and zipped them. He cleaned her off, next, being careful with her still-swollen flesh, and then one-by-one, he released each of her limbs, holding each one in his hands for a moment. His eyes still locked on hers, that subtle communication between them still going strong.

House helped Alli sit up, and then grabbed his cane, limping over to the bag with their clothes. He grabbed Alli's things first, tossing them over to her, and then dressed himself in his tee-shirt, and button-down from earlier that day. Good thing he'd worn the same blazer. He turned around slowly, aching, to find her examining the clothing curiously. "Yeah," he said, forestalling her question, "'previously-enjoyed' clothing, I know. Figured if anyone catches us on the way out, they'll find it easier to believe we were stuck here all night working, if we're all rumpled and smell less than 'Zestfully' clean."

She nodded. Typical of him, to focus on the small details like that. Except for the fact that they had no cases, and thus no reason to be here, but…she got off the table and dressed, as Greg gathered up and put away his 'toys', and then she helped him clear the room of all remaining signs of their presence.

"Any final prescriptions, Dr. House? To prevent further 'outbreaks'?" she asked him, once he looked ready to head for the door.

"Yeah," he said, smirking at her once again. "Complete pelvic rest. At least until after dinner tonight."

Allison stifled a giggle and then followed Greg out of the exam room, to the elevator, and finally out of the hospital and towards the 'vette. He was limping much more than usual, and she felt concerned for him, but knew him well enough to stay silent. She didn't want him to ruin the moment with one of those "That's what you get for screwing an old cripple" self-loathing comments in return. He spouted fewer and fewer of them these days, at least in regards to his sexual performance, but there was still the occasional one.

House slid himself carefully behind the wheel. He checked his watch, but it was still early yet to take a Vicodin, so he paused a moment, trying to relax his back, trying to surreptitiously massage his thigh. Tapping his cane rhythmically against the seat, feeling that he ought to say something.

Somehow, he could smell Alli's scent – that scent – on his cane-handle, still, which only served to scatter his thoughts even more, so he put the cane down, resorting to tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Glancing over at her, he saw she looked sated, glowy…Good thing we didn't run into anyone on our way out, he thought. No one, looking at Alli's face, would believe that I wasn't screwing her seventy ways from Sunday back there…We'll have to work on her poker face some more.

He wasn't starting the car, just sitting there tapping his fingers on the wheel, and Allison wondered what was going on. He looked like he wanted to say something, but didn't know quite how.

C'mon, c'mon, he said to himself. If you can't tell her you love her, at least tell her she's got nothing to worry about. That she's worth ten thousand of Stacy. Tell her that she's smart, beautiful, everything a man could ever want. Tell her how lucky you feel that she picked a miserable old bastard like you to be her partner. The words he could say – if he'd only open his mouth – kept circling through his head. Until finally he felt her hand on his arm, a light, questioning touch, and he berated himself for his cowardice. You're supposed to be talking to her, dumbass, not to yourself.

It felt like walking towards a firing squad, but he turned in his seat, to meet her eyes, their blue dimmed by the pale morning light surrounding them. He opened his mouth, not really sure what was going to come out…and then heard himself say: "I'm not leaving you." He'd been forced to drop his eyes when he said it, but then he looked back up at Alli as her hand tightened on his arm.

That's…quite an admission for him. And despite the mantra that he'd pounded into her head for months, that 'Everybody lies', she believed him. Then again, she always had believed him, trusted him, hadn't she? And she supposed that he hadn't really let her down. He could be a bastard, but…he was always there for her, if in his own way. So she leaned forward, kissing him gently on the lips, and murmured, "Let's go home."