Chapter Ten: She Swallows

Morning was still hours away when I awakened to the feel of a bearded chin rubbing against my shoulder. A soft breath tickled my ear.

"Wake up, Daisy Buchanan, or I'll have to start without you."

I groaned and rolled over and under Blue Eyes. He rubbed his rough chin up the side of my face, ending with his mouth poised inches above mine. I found myself, unexpectedly, anxious for the feel of his kiss. I moved my chin upwards, making my mouth accessible, but he remained out of reach, his eyes searching mine in the darkness broken only by the glimmer of the nightlight in the bathroom. I ran the fingers of one hand along his back, feeling the muscle and bones of his ribcage, while I cupped his head with my other hand.

"What are you thinking, Blue Eyes?"

"I was thinking how lovely you are for a pregnant woman," he answered.

"I don't suppose you could start thinking how lovely I would be to kiss, could you?"

He almost smiled. "I was actually thinking just that."

He brushed my lips with his, and I parted mine in anticipation of a deeper kiss. I craved a deeper kiss. He teased me, using his tongue to outline my mouth, while I squirmed against him. I was impatient. He was torturous. I tried to pull his head down to kiss me, but he was strong enough to resist. His chin dipped beneath my chin and pushed my head back so he could rub his beard along my neck. He licked and sucked my nipples until they were tender. He laid his cheek against my belly, kissing the bulge gently, repetitively, until he moved his mouth even lower. I was nearly mindless with my desire for him. I couldn't lie still and complacent any longer. I pulled his face back to mine.

"Kiss me first," I asked.

"I was going to kiss you, but you stopped me," he snickered.

"No, silly, kiss my mouth."

He complied with my request, smothering my mouth with his. I absorbed his tongue, his teeth, his lips – everything I could. Then I changed positions, crawling underneath the sheet to take him into my mouth. I licked and sucked and teased; he took advantage of my anatomy and licked and sucked and teased. I was caught in a maelstrom of sensations. I concentrated on Blue Eyes: I felt him growing harder and larger as his orgasm neared. When he did, finally, come in my mouth, I was so aware of every shudder, every tremor, that my own orgasm coincided. Blue Eyes pulled me around and into his arms, cradling my head on his panting chest. His heart drummed in my ear, and his taste saturated my mouth. I fell back asleep thinking how salty he was.

Blue Eyes woke me up again, but this time he handed me my cell phone. Greg.

"Did you go off with that biped?" he immediately asked.

"And you went off with Dr. Cameron in your lap – do you want to tell me about that?"

"Her name is Allison and she's older than she looks. I'm at your apartment; when are you coming home?"

I watched Blue Eyes limping around the bedroom, his jeans and t-shirt already disguising the body I had only just begun to know. "You found the hidden key, right?"

"Yes, Cissy, but I don't feel particularly safe here. Come home, and I'll buy us both breakfast."

As soon as I ended the call, Blue Eyes was back on the bed, sitting beside me.

"Your brother, the southern tornado, afraid to stay alone?" he taunted.

"Will you drive me back to the hospital to get my truck?" I asked.

"I have a better idea," he said. "We'll go pick up your brother and let him take us both out for breakfast before I take you to your truck."

I squinted my eyes at him. "You just want to know about him and Dr. Cameron, don't you?"

"She wanted to sleep with me, but I used restraint. But I'm not dead. Some things a man just needs to know."

"If you'll let me take a shower, I'll let you come to breakfast with us. But, I warn you, Greg is very bright and very sharp, so you may have your hands full jousting with him."

He pointed to the bathroom. "Shower away. I'm just dying to joust with your brother."

I agreed hesitantly, although the memory of sleeping with Blue Eyes curled protectively around me helped allay most of my anxieties.

Greg registered minor shock when he saw the two of us at the apartment, but he recovered quickly. While I stowed his wheelchair in the trunk, Greg began poking at Blue Eyes.

"I should have guessed she'd pick you; she's always had a weakness for doctors."

I cut my eyes at my brother in what I hoped would be a death inducing glare, but Greg grinned amiably back at me as he settled himself in the back seat. Blue Eyes wasn't about to let Greg's remark go by unexplored.

"You have a pattern of seducing your doctors?" he asked.

"Of course not. That's just rubbish," I objected as we drove to a diner near the university campus.

Greg punctuated my denial with a raucous snort.

"The southern psycho back there seems to disagree," B.E. pursued.

"Greg," I started, "how did things go with Dr. Cameron?"

"Her name is Allison, and she's actually older than I am. And she's sweet. Of course, she harbors a bit of malice towards your boyfriend there."

"Boyfriend?" Blue and Eyes cried in unison.

"Yeah, the Dr. House. Seems she's been carrying quite a torch for him, but he's not been kindhearted."

We parked outside the diner as Blue Eyes snorted in his turn. "Kindhearted had nothing to do with what Cameron wanted. I was never interested in her, and I made that clear."

Greg reclaimed his wheelchair, and we entered the diner. He was still goading Blue Eyes. "She tells a different story. Says she kissed you to distract you so she could get a blood sample and you knew what she was up to, but you took the opportunity to kiss her back. Not really a fair play, biped."

Blue Eyes led us to an empty booth. "Fair play has nothing to do with what I wanted."

I felt my enlarging belly churn as they bickered.

"Well, if it will ease your mind, biped, she has found an excellent way to work through her attraction to you, along with the infatuation of that gay doctor – what was his name?"

"Dr. Chase," I supplied.

"Yeah, that one," Greg agreed.

Blue Eyes asked, surprised, "You think Chase is gay?"

The waitress came to take our order: Greg and Blue Eyes both wanted a platter of pancakes with sides of bacon and sausage, and I ordered an omelet. You couldn't find grits in any restaurant north of Virginia.

"Yeah, that Dr. Chase has to be gay. He's so pretty."

"You're being an ass, Greg," I cautioned.

"Hey, I don't care if he's gay," Greg protested, "but if he isn't, then I need to give him a hand. I mean, he must spend half an hour just fixing his hair every morning."

Blue Eyes was concentrating. "Fixing his hair for what?"

Greg shook his head. "Fixing is a southern colloquialism. I should have sad arranging his hair. Aren't colloquialisms your bailiwick, Cissy?"

"Of course, along with seducing doctors and inviting rape." I was just a tad sarcastic.

Blue Eyes looked at Greg. "I think you've pissed her off, Greg."

"She's used to me," he said while smiling.

Blue Eyes welcomed his plate overflowing with artery-clogging food. "I want to hear about the other doctor you seduced."

"I didn't . . ." I began.

Greg interrupted. "The doctor who tried to kill me with gamma globulin infusions succumbed to Cissy's charms."

"Charms?" Blue Eyes asked.

"Could I get about a handful of those pain pills you take?" I asked Blue Eyes.

He shook his head. "So, Daisy Buchanan seduced your doctor? Sweet."

"I seduced no one," I protested lamely.

"Cissy would stay with me, day and night, looking anxious but paying attention to everything. She quickly knew more about the procedure than the nurses. I became dangerously dehydrated one weekend, and the nurses couldn't get hold of Dr. Michaels; by the time he finally called in, Cissy got him on the phone and ripped him a new one. He was at the hospital within fifteen minutes, and he was in love."

Blue Eyes stared at me between bites. "So, Daisy, you attract doctors by yelling at them? Did you throw up on his shoes, too? Did you punch him?"

"She punched you?" Greg asked B.E. excitedly. "Hot damm! No wonder you can't leave her alone."

B.E. shifted his gaze to Greg. "I can leave her . . ." he began.

"Aaron's interest in me was only fleeting," I stated.

"He was obsessed."

I sighed and gave up trying to eat. "He was a little on the obsessive side, yes. But we didn't have a romance."

B.E. continued chewing, but he turned his attention back to me. "You like to bandy about the word 'romance,' don't you? What I want to know is, did you have sex with him?"

"None of your business," I answered.

Greg, turning traitor, said, "They did it. And he liked it. Which is why he went a little insane when she called it off."

"An insane doctor? Surely you jest," Blue Eyes responded.

"Just so you can keep things in perspective, biped, you should realize you're the second doctor she took a restraining order out on. Although, apparently, she nullified the one on you fairly quickly."

"Excuse me." I cleared my throat. "Can we discuss something other than me? Please?"

Greg grinned. "But you're so fascinating, Cissy."

I groaned.

"Miss Nicole Diver, the temptress and callous heartbreaker of doctors both south and north," Blue Eyes said in an exaggerated television announcer voice.

"So, biped, she's already broken your heart, too?" Greg asked.

Blue Eyes blinked; he hadn't realized what he had said, the implications of his attempted humor and the revelation of his feelings. "No," he quietly replied, "not yet."

I watched his expression as he ate the last of his breakfast, busying himself with spearing the remains of the soggy pancakes while avoiding my questioning look.

"She will, though," Greg continued, seemingly impervious to the mounting tension between Blue Eyes and me. I felt Greg's youth as tangibly as I felt the glass of water I drank from. He had no idea how much Blue Eyes and I had to lose; he had no idea how guarded we both were, afraid to let the other come near. "Cissy is a femme fatale," Greg continued gaily.

"Women in their third trimester are seldom fatale," I quietly disagreed.

He caught my eyes, at last, and whispered, "I can definitely see her potential, though."

Once the boys finished their breakfasts, Blue Eyes drove us to the hospital parking garage and my truck. Greg pulled a small piece of paper out of his pocket.

"I'm supposed to meet Eric at his gym – he wrote the directions for me. Do you want to come, too, Cissy?" Greg asked as he one-armed his wheelchair into the truck bed.

"I'm tired, Greg. Why don't you drop me at the apartment?"

Greg nodded, then he looked at Blue Eyes. "Want to come work out with us?"

Blue Eyes looked from Greg to me. "Are you okay?" he asked me with undisguised concern.

I was not okay; I was fatigued, but I was also plagued by a nagging at the back of my brain. Something in the diner conversation had triggered feelings of dread, of déjà vu. "Go play with the boys. I just want to lie down."

"Maybe I should take you back to my apartment. It'll be more peaceful there. You could rest." Blue Eyes was actually being considerate.

"Thanks, Blue Eyes, but I'd rather be in my own place."

B.E. nodded and allowed Greg to take me home. I shooed Greg away, encouraging him to go work out, and I found my comfortable sweat pants and my ancient Jackson Browne t-shirt and slid beneath the quilts on my futon. The apartment, cold and dark as it snowed outside, was womblike in its insularity. I fell asleep instantly.

My dream was jumbled and frightening. I was in the hospital, Princeton-Plainsboro, running through darkened halls and then up a dark stairway. I could hear the footsteps of my pursuer. I reached the top of the stairs and pushed through the door to the roof. There was no exit. He was behind me, grabbing me, pulling me to the floor. His voice, husky and panting, inflamed my mind as his words echoed through me. "Just be a good girl," he whispered, "and I won't hurt you." I was on the cold concrete, splayed out and at his mercy. His face filled my field of vision. He tore at my clothes; he tore at my body. I tried to scream, but his hand clamped down on my mouth, crushing the sounds back into my throat. The rape happened again, but this time the attacker was on top of me, ripping me apart. I pushed my head back, arching against the smothering hand, and felt agonizing cramps as the white lights on the hospital rooftop eclipsed everything else.

I awoke to my own screams as a stranger covered my face with a pillow and yelled to his accomplice to grab everything of value. Contractions seized my body, and I gave in to unconsciousness.

I fought to stay asleep, to remain in oblivion, but familiar voices coaxed me back. I opened my eyes to see the sleep-ravaged face of my brother. The instant he saw my eyes flutter open, he wheeled himself to the bed.

"Cissy," he whispered, stroking my hair.

"What?" I croaked.

He held a cup with a straw to my mouth, and I greedily drank. I had an IV again. My free hand reached down to feel my straining belly; I was still pregnant.

"Zelda?" I asked.

"Just rest," Greg whispered.

"No," I objected. "Tell me what happened."

The agony showed in his face. "A couple of guys broke into your apartment. Apparently, the shock sent you into premature labor. House has you on something to ease your contractions. I told him I'd call when you woke up." He grabbed the phone and dialed. "There," he said, replacing the phone, "I paged him."

I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, Greg was gone, but Blue Eyes was standing over me with his hand resting on my abdomen.

"We're giving you magnesium-sulfate to relax your uterine muscles and, hopefully, curtail your contractions. We're also giving you corticosteroids to speed up Zelda's lung development and broad spectrum antibiotics just in case you do deliver early," he said in a detached, professional voice. "You're only at twenty-eight weeks, and we'd like to get you to at least thirty-two weeks, but we have an excellent neonatal intensive care unit here if . . ."

"Zelda's all right?" I asked.

He nodded tersely.

"Blue Eyes," I pleaded.

He shifted his gaze from the bags hung on my IV pole to my face. His visage was stern and closed; I thought he was clenching his teeth.

"You nearly got yourself killed," he hissed accusingly. "And you've endangered your baby's life. All to live in that hovel."

"Blue Eyes," I whispered again. "I know who raped me."

He pulled a chair next to me and sat down, rubbing his hand over his face. I waited for his expression to soften.

"Someone you know?"

I nodded.

"I guess we need to contact the police."

"No."

He gave me a quizzical look. "I'm supposed to call them as soon as you're awake so they can question you about the robbery."

I waved my hands in dismissal. "I don't remember anything about the robbery. But the rapist. Blue Eyes, he's Zelda's father. If he finds out, he could demand parental rights. I don't want to surrender my baby to him."

"Tiger," B.E. began, "if he's arrested for and convicted of rape, he'll never be able to get close to Zelda."

I shook my head. "And what if he isn't convicted? He's a very important man. Since I only now realized who raped me, I doubt there would be a conviction. And, to be honest, I don't want to go through that."

"So, you'll just let the bastard go free?" he asked angrily.

I was torn. I wanted to forget, to return to ignorance. I closed my eyes. I felt the tears slide from beneath my eyelids.

"Tiger," Blue Eyes whispered, touching my cheek.

The wheels of Greg's chair bumped through the doorway. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," I answered, a false smile on my face.

"There's nothing wrong with the baby, is there?" he asked.

Blue Eyes stood. "Zelda's fine for now. We just have to hope your sister's contractions don't resume." He tried to reassure Greg, but I could read the anger on his face.

"How long will she be in here?"

"I'm keeping her here indefinitely. Besides, she doesn't need to return to that slum," B.E. said.

Greg nodded. "I've moved into the Radisson down the street, and I'll take care of packing up your belongings, Cissy. The advantage of being a lawyer is I yelled legal-speak and terrified your slumlord with threats of lawsuits. He graciously let you out of your lease." He looked to Blue Eyes for help. "Allison offered to help me find a suitable apartment for her. Do you have any suggestions?"

"I wouldn't rush," B.E. answered.

"Okay, Cissy, your turn to talk," Greg insisted.

"I don't want an apartment a teenager would choose."

B.E. almost smiled. "Cameron's not a teenager despite her appearance." He turned to Greg. "Could you give us some time alone?"

Greg almost said no, but he saw me tilting my head towards the door, and he said, "All right, biped, but I'll be back in an hour." He patted my hand and left me alone with B.E.

"I have a suggestion, Tiger," B.E. began. "Why don't you move in with me – temporarily, of course."

I was incredulous. "You've lost your mind."

The edge of his mouth tilted upward in a gentle smile. "Maybe. But your cornpone brother will need to leave after Christmas, and neither one of us likes the idea of you living alone, at least not while you're in danger of preterm labor. Even if you're released from the hospital, you'll be on complete bed rest since your cervix is 80 effaced and you're dilated 2 cm – meaning no traipsing around at all. You'll need someone to look after you."

"You?" I asked. "But you're such a private person; you love your solitude."

"And you read a lot. You're quiet. When you're not talking."

I shook my head in disbelief. "After the baby is born?"

"I'll help you find a nice apartment."

"Why would you go to so much trouble for me?"

Blue Eyes swallowed one of his pain pills. "If you insist on analyzing it in detail, or making more out of it than it is, I'll have to rescind my offer."

I never had the opportunity to either accept or decline his offer because my contractions started again, and a warm trickle of fluid signaled my water had broken.

"We want you to deliver Zelda vaginally, all right?" Blue Eyes asked, leaning very close to my face. "And we'd prefer not to use anything for pain – can you handle that?"

I nodded. I was overwhelmed knowing I was only hours away from holding my baby, my Zelda. Handling the pain of the contractions was a minor inconvenience. I tried to find a regulated rhythm for my breathing during the contractions.

Greg reappeared, only to be relegated to the waiting room. Blue Eyes called Dr. Castillo and Dr. Chase.

"Chase is an intensivist," Blue Eyes told me. "He'll take charge of Zelda in the NICU."

After several hours of intensifying contractions, Dr. Castillo examined me. "100 effaced and 8 cm dilated," she told Blue Eyes and me. "But the baby is in breach position."

Blue Eyes had me turn on my side. "Stay like this and let's see if we can get her to turn around." His face was solemn, and I could see beads of sweat dotting his hairline.

An hour later Dr. Castillo's exam revealed I was completely dilated and ready to push.

"Now you go to work," Blue Eyes told me. "Stay on your side and push at the top of your next contraction."

I did as he said; the contraction may have only lasted a minute or so, but it seemed an eternity. I was exhausted after pushing. But Blue Eyes smiled at me.

"Good job, Tiger. She's turned. Now let's keep going."

I pushed with each contraction for an hour before a gleeful Blue Eyes, after examining me, said, "She's crowning. Look up in the mirror. Can you see her, Tiger?"

I nodded.

Blue Eyes had two orderlies wheel me into a birthing suite. Dr. Castillo moved between my bent legs, and Blue Eyes stripped off his gloves and grabbed my hand.

"You're beginning another contraction. Take a deep breath and push, Tiger. Let's get Zelda out here."

He squeezed my hand as I pushed and panted with all my energy. After the third contraction, Blue Eyes whispered, "There's her head."

Dr. Castillo said, "Give me a few more good pushes, and Dr. House can cut the umbilical cord."

My eyes were shut as I concentrated on sending Zelda out into the big, ugly world, so I didn't see her tiny body slip into Dr. Castillo's waiting hands. But I heard Blue Eyes. "She's tiny, Tiger, but she's perfect."

I was wiping the sweat out of my eyes when Blue Eyes cut the umbilical cord and rushed Zelda into the NICU. I knew Dr. Chase was waiting for her. As I delivered the placenta, Blue Eyes came back to whisper in my year. "Thirteen inches, two pounds and thirteen ounces. She's on a respirator, but she looks good. Time of birth, 12:01 am, Christmas day."

Dr. Castillo returned. "I'll just take care of the episiotomy . . ."

Blue Eyes interrupted her, "Let me do that, Angela. I want to make sure she's nice and tight."

Dr. Castillo turned red, and I tried to kick him, but my leg was too weak from exertion. He winked at me before he ducked down to put in the stitches.

"How would you like to move to your room?" he asked me, quietly and gently.

"I want to see Zelda."

"Tiger, she needs to stay in intensive care where they can regulate her body temp and keep her on the ventilator. However, if you'll rest for a couple of hours, I'll find a wheelchair and take you to visit her."

"Greg?" I asked.

"He's plastered to the nursery window. Let's get you tidied up, and then I'll find him."

Alone in my room, Blue Eyes found a warm washcloth and cleaned my grimy face with it. His touch was easy and familiar. I relaxed as his hands ministered to me. He hummed.

"She's going to be all right, isn't she?" I asked.

"She's pink and pretty for a scrunched up, just born, squalling little girl. She's inherited your lung power."

"Fingers? Toes?"

"Ten of each. Do you want me to get something to help you sleep?"

"I want to see her, Blue Eyes."

"Let's wait until you've slept a few hours."

I threw back the sheet and pushed my legs over the side of my bed, knocking into Blue Eyes' groin.

"Whoa, wait," he stuttered.

"I'm going to see her, Blue Eyes, now. Not later."

"Damm! You are so stubborn. Let me get a wheelchair," he rambled. He leaned into the hall and bellowed, "Wheelchair, now!"

A nurse pushed one into the room.

"Here, princess, but let me help you . . ."

Before he could finish, I had already maneuvered myself into the chair. He unhooked the bags from the IV pole and handed them to me, and then we started off to find my daughter. My daughter.

She looked helpless, cordoned off in her incubator, strapped to a ventilator. A tiny thing. Blue Eyes brought Greg in with us, so we were there, all three, staring at my baby daughter.

"When will I be able to hold her?" I asked.

"After you've had some sleep, and we see how her lungs are doing, we'll check with Dr. Castillo and Chase for their approval. At the very least, you'll be able to touch her later today," Blue Eyes answered.

"She won't be able to nurse, will she? I wanted to breastfeed her," I lamented.

"A nurse will help you figure out a breast pump, so you can store milk for them to feed her until she's strong enough to suck."

"They store breast milk?" Greg asked, fascinated. "You mean, there's a refrigerator full of breast milk around here?"

Blue Eyes and I stared at Greg. "Your southern fried brother is a perv," Blue Eyes said.

"Apparently," I agreed.

Greg just grinned. "I'm the uncle," he said proudly. "What are you going to name her, besides Zelda?"

"I have an idea," I started.

"Isn't Zelda enough? I mean, you're already going to have to work to keep her from being a total geek with that name," Blue Eyes said.

"I'm southern. We give our children a lot of names."

His beautiful eyes bore into mine. "So, Audra Jeffrey, what's your other name?"

"She's named after our grandmother," Greg began.

"Don't you dare tell him," I hissed.

Blue Eyes danced around in anticipation. "Come on, man, give me the name."

Greg laughed. "I'm sorry, Cissy, but he cut the umbilical cord. He deserves something."

I put my head in my hands.

"Her middle name is Florine."

Blue Eyes' mouth dropped open. "Florine? Isn't that a chemical? You're named after a chemical? Oh, Zelda is not going to be named that."

"I have no intention of naming Zelda after myself," I asserted. "I was thinking of naming her after my little brother."

Greg, his wheelchair next to mine, reached over and hugged me. "Aren't you sweet. So, you're going to name her Greg?"

Blue Eyes groaned.

"How about Zelda Gregory Jeffrey?" I asked.

"You'd better get her enrolled in self defense classes as soon as she can walk 'cause she's going to take a beating with that name," Blue Eyes said.

"I think it's a perfectly handsome name," I sniffed.

"You obviously need some sleep because you're incoherent," Blue Eyes said as he pushed my wheelchair, one-handed, out of the NICU.

I didn't think I'd sleep, but I lay in bed with my eyes closed, listening to Greg and Blue Eyes.

"I was thinking of something in white, all girly, with a pink comforter," Greg said.

"Not girly," Blue Eyes responded. "Something more traditional, like a Jenny Lind style crib. Dark wood. Maybe even an antique."

"Oh, right – Cissy just loves traditional stuff – not," Greg objected.

"You're right. Do they make post-modern baby furniture? The Gravity's Rainbow line?"

"Good one, biped," Greg said, and they laughed together.

I marveled at these two men debating styles of baby furniture. I did dose off, finally, convinced Zelda and I were in good hands.

I didn't wake up until late morning. Jim was loitering in the doorway with a huge bouquet of flowers.

"Jim," I called, motioning him in. He set the flowers on a table beside a philodendron beribboned in pink from Joel and Terri Jacobs, and then took a seat beside me. "Have you seen her?" I excitedly asked.

"What I could see of her. House and your brother won't leave her for an instant," he told me.

"She's going to be okay, don't you think?"

He patted my hand. "She's doing well, Audra. But how are you feeling?"

"I'm antsy. I want to hold her. I want to go home," I whined.

"From my conversation with House, I gather he has no intentions of letting you go back to your apartment," he said with an inquisitive tone in his eye.

"Now, Jim, don't jump to conclusions. Just because he invited me to move in with him before Zelda was born doesn't mean the invitation is still open."

"Audra, I've known House for a long time, and I believe he's serious about you."

I wanted to ask him what he meant – how was Blue Eyes "serious" about me? Serious as in a romantic relationship? I studied Jim's handsome face and debated asking him, but, in the end, I couldn't put him on the spot. His loyalty had to remain with Blue Eyes.

"I know Blue Eyes wants to make sure Zelda has a safe place to go to, but I hardly think my presence, much less that of an infant, would do anything other than annoy him."

Jim took my hand and held it loosely in his. "Don't sell him short, Audra. He feels a bond with you, and with Zelda. I've never seen him this way about anyone before."

"Stacy?"

He shook his head. "They loved each other, definitely, but his feelings for you are more complex. He's protective of you, and I can't say I've seen House protective of anyone, ever. He's in new territory with you."

I looked down because I didn't want Jim to see the tears forming in the corners of my eyes. "Jim, Blue Eyes just feels sorry for me. As soon as Zelda and I are healthy and housed in a respectable apartment, we won't need him so much, and he'll fall back into his normal routine."

Jim leaned closer to me. "I may be mistaken, Audra, but from what I've seen, you're not the one who needs House. He, in fact, is the one seeking you out at every opportunity. He may not realize it, but I believe he's finally found someone he needs."

"Am I interrupting anything important?" Blue Eyes, poised in the doorway, asked with an edge of irritation in his voice.

Jim released my hand and stood up hastily, almost guiltily, and said, "Of course not, House. I was just telling Audra how well Zelda is doing."

Blue Eyes limped to my bed, nudging past Jim, and kissed my forehead. A proprietary kiss. A kiss of ownership. If he were a dog, he'd have peed on me.

Greg rolled in behind Blue Eyes, a poinsettia in his lap. "Merry Christmas, little mama!"

I laughed at the oversized plant obscuring Greg's face. "Where did you get such a plant?" I asked.

"I am a resourceful man," he answered.

Jim took the poinsettia and placed it on the table, too. He had been watching Blue Eyes, but he turned to Greg and said, "I haven't had anything even approaching a real meal today. How would you like to get some Chinese with me, Greg?"

Greg agreed, then asked Blue Eyes and me if we wanted them to bring anything back for us. Blue Eyes, of course, had an involved order, and Jim and Greg departed, bickering over the indecipherable menu Blue Eyes had scribbled for them.

As soon as we were alone, Blue Eyes sat beside me on the bed. He appeared on the verge of a serious conversation; unfortunately, the nurse, a lactation consultant, chose that precise moment to bring me the breast pump and to offer to show me how to use it.

Blue Eyes, with an agitated look, said, "Just leave the breast pump with me. I'll show Ms. Jeffrey how it works." The nurse looked uneasy and unwilling to leave, but Blue Eyes gave her his sternest stare and said, "Honest, I know how it works. I'll bring the colostrum and any milk we get back to you."

The nurse left, but not before giving me a pitying glance.

I assumed the same uneasy look of the nurse. "How do you know how to work a breast pump?"

"One of the many feats I mastered while bored. Here, slip your gown down," he said matter-of-factly.

"Whoa there," I began to object, but he impatiently grabbed my gown and exposed my left breast.

He affixed the electric pump over my nipple and turned it on. "How does it feel? Is the suction comfortable?"

I had a machine milking me. How could that ever, in any universe, be comfortable? Oddly, as the suction continued, I could feel my uterine muscles contracting. At first, the combined sensations were almost painful, but as my breast became acclimated to the suction, a small amount of liquid escaped. I looked up at Blue Eyes, but he was engrossed in the technicality of the enterprise. Or so I thought.

"You need to do each breast every two hours," he recited. "In a day or so, your milk will let down and you'll be filling the container with no difficulty."

He relaxed enough to glance at my face.

"You're smiling?" he asked.

"You're going to think I'm a fool, but it's kind of erotic," I admitted.

His lips tilted up at the corners in a naughty leer. "If the breast pump turns you on, just think what my mouth would do."