Chapter 7

He arrived and without so much as a smile walked in and looked around my little place as he pushed a bottle of wine into my arms.

"This is the devil's brew..." I said, remembering that I was drunk when I was stabbed.

"Then I must be the devil."

He had on a nice navy blue t shirt, jeans on and he smelled great, like the woods and cinnamon all rolled into one. Leaning his back on the counter, he stood soberly with a glass of wine in his hand as he watched me finish cooking the meal. I had made cheese enchiladas with Pico de Gallo, shredded beef burritos and a chopped salad. First I dished out the food on his plate then poured him another tall drink of wine. He followed me to the couch where we sat to eat in front of the television.

There wasn't much conversation as he practically inhaled the meal and then asked for more. As I handed him a plate of seconds, he managed to tell me, "This is good. I don't get too many home cooked meals."

"Thank you, Dr. House."

"Call me, Greg."

After dinner we watched The Usual Suspects on DVD. Greg, hunched down on the couch with his legs up on the coffee table, was starting to doze a little towards the end. When the movie was over I woke him with a gentle tug.

He flinched and those big blue eyes bolted open. "Sorry, but I was up all night with our latest patient."

"That's ok, I'm glad you could relax. Greg, I'm thankful that you came over, but I don't want you to feel obligated to check in on me."

"You obviously don't know me. I don't feel obligated to do anything."

"I'm glad."

I packed up some leftovers for him and told him to just warm them in the microwave for a few minutes. He turned around at the door, looked at me and for a minute I thought he might just kiss me, but he didn't. He simply said goodnight and that he would call me before hobbling out into the dark. I took a painkiller and went to sleep.

Saturday I woke up and drove up to the Warner's residence and knocked on the door. I was dressed in a business suit and an official looking file. I rang the doorbell and heard a woman say that she would get the door. When it opened, in front of me was a lovely woman, obviously in her late early fifties with dark hair, dark eyes and a symmetric face that would appeal to any man. Her eyebrows had been plucked into a dramatically high arch. She also had a nice body, not too thin, just right. I was impressed, she reminded me of the many female defense lawyers I had run across. They tended to dress and act a little more within the boundaries of the human social contract.

"Attorney Stacy Warner?"

"Yes?"

"Hi, I'm Jessica Walker from Acacia Insurance adjusters. We do investigative work for insurance companies when they underwrite policies. We have a few questions for you about Doctor Gregory House."

She adjusted her posture as if suddenly she was uncomfortable. "Sure, come on in. Let's go in here." She pointed me towards a formal dining room where we sat at the table. "We've had some concerns about Dr. House's methods and we understand that not only did you know him professionally, but at one point he put you down as a personal reference."

"Yes, I know Dr. House professionally and personally."

"Would you consider Dr. House a professional risk to an insurance company?" I watched as she searched for the best words to protect Greg. This woman still cared for him and had no desire to burn him or cause him grief.

"No. Dr. House takes on patients that other doctors give up on and so he has to run more tests, take more chances and think outside the box than other doctors. But he also has a very high rate of success, so the risks are more than balanced by his success. He has incredible skills."

"Yes, I've been told that, but I understand that his interactions with staff and patients is somewhat caustic. Did you find him to be caustic on a personal level?"

"He has his moments. But generally, underneath he's very likeable and can be very generous and kind."

"Would it surprise you if I told you that you were the first to say that?"

"Have you talked to Dr. Wilson? Dr. Cuddy?"

"Not yet."

"I think those who know him well will give you a different story."

She and I spoke for another fifteen minutes about Greg and his work at the hospital. I thanked her and left. The interior of the house was suprisingly homey, not pretentious at all. I suspected the cozy feeling had a lot to do with her husband because I got the feeling Stacy was more inclined to have a house filled with contemporary, beautiful things. I had to admit that she was both gracious and protective of Greg. I couldn't find anything to fault her except for the fact that she had left him when he was at his lowest. He had good taste in women.

I drove back to Princeton and went straight to bed although I was in some pain and so I took a painkiller. I woke up Sunday and spent the day outside, walking around the campus and the park. As I was walking back to my house in the late afternoon I received a call on my cell phone.

"Hello?"

"Where are you? I'm standing outside your place with pizza." It was Greg.

"Come out to the curb and look down the street." I told him.

He walked down the driveway and then turned around. I waved at him and he nodded an acknowledgment. I couldn't go any faster, I was in pain from walking so much. When I got up to him he said, "Aren't you overdoing it?"

"They told me to walk, to make sure my lungs stay clear."

"You don't want the stitches to come out just yet. You need to slow down a little."

"Come on, let's get inside with that Pizza. It sure smells good. How did you get it here on your bike?"

"Bungie cords."

We went inside and then out on the little patio in the back that overlooks the woods behind the main house. He had a beer, I had a diet coke.

"Morrigan, what aren't you telling me?"

"What do you mean?" I gave him a look of surprise.

"With you two plus two doesn't add up. I'm not sure what it is."

"Well, aren't we all holding something back? Maybe when I feel I can trust you completely I'll be completely candid."

"I don't think you can ever trust anyone completely."

"I think there are people in your life that you can; that have your back. Of course if you push anyone hard enough, they'll give up, but not because they want to give up. Have you ever pushed someone so hard they gave up?"

"Lots of times." He said it with a mouth full of pizza, but without hesitation.

"Anyone special?"

"Do you mean, have I pushed someone out of my life that I loved? Yes, but I knew I couldn't give her what she wanted."

"What did she want?"

"Me. My attention. I tend to get caught up in my own world. I ignored her, I argued with her, I was cruel at times."

"How long did you have a relationship with her?"

"Five years."

"Must not have been cruel all the time. She stuck around a long time, unless of course she was a masochist." I said.

"What about you?"

"I'm the queen of short term relationships. I get caught up in work and can't leave it behind." I immediately recognized my slip.

"You get caught up being a janitor?" He knew he had me. He gave me a sly smile.

"I wasn't always a janitor."

"Ah, what were you?"

"A very lonely person."

"That's hard to believe, you're not bad looking, you have social graces, you can carry a conversation."

"And yet, I don't have anyone to come home to at night. Did you ever want kids?"

"I never saw myself as good father material. I'm too critical and abrasive. But they say that when you have your own kids, it changes your world. I guess the answer is that I was ambivalent, of course now I'm too set in my ways, too old to be a father. "nd you?"

"I'd like to have a child. I think I have a lot to offer and I'd make a good Mom. But as I told you, I'm the queen of short term relationships."

"You never answered me. What were you before you were a janitor?"

"That, Gregory House, is a good question, but something I'll leave as a mystery for now."

Taking his cell phone out to answer a page, he saw it was accompanied by a text message. "Got to go." He jumped up and was off without a goodbye.

I was frustrated, I really wanted him to stay and he kept getting paged. But, I had my answer. I knew that Greg House had good genes and it was his sperm I would use for my child. "s a result of my decision, he was going to be the father of my child and so decided that I wanted to do something kind for him, something that would help him out. The only thing I could think of was Justin Roberts.