AN: So sorry this took so long! I was sequestered with my family over the Thanksgiving holiday and they would not leave me alone. Ugg. Any who, I don't own House or any of the wonderful characters on David Shore's amazing show, House, MD. Finally, thank you thank you thank for all of you wonderful reviewers! You are awesome!

"You can't always get what you want

But if you try sometimes you just might find

You just might find

You get what you need

Ah yeah."

- Mick Jagger

Chapter Eleven: You Can't Always Get What You Want

The Next Day

"Here are the case files you asked for. I went ahead and ordered them chronologically for you and then highlighted the procedures that are being contested." Will handed me the files.

Today was my first day back since my rather long vacation and I was happy to be here, although I did have work piling up all over my desk. It felt good to finally have everything back to normal. My sister and her family were long gone and Greg and I finally had our apartment back. I was very excited to plunge back into work.

"Wow, Will, it's only 10 am. I can't believe you finished this already." Will gave me a little smile, as if to say, 'of course it's finished.'

"No problem. Now is there anything else I can get you?"

"I think I am fine for now. Thanks, Will."

As Will left my office, I began looking over the files. I had a meeting with Medicare later in the week to discuss the billing practices of the hospital's free clinic. I started making notes on some talking points when I heard my office door being shoved open. Without looking up, I knew who it was.

"Got any time for a little afternoon delight?" Greg asked, plopping down in the chair across from me.

"It's still morning," I answered, without looking up. I was incredibly busy and I did not have time for the Greg House show.

He leaned his head down, trying to get into my eye line. "What are you doing?"

I looked up at him, "I am preparing for a case. What are you doing?" I knew he was just trying to spend time with me, in his own self absorbed way. Last night was the first night we had spent together all week because of his difficult case.

He stared right at me, piercing me with those gorgeous eyes of his. "I miss you," he said simply.

"Oh God," I muttered as I felt an intense wave of nausea rise up within me. I quickly grabbed the trashcan at my feet and wretched into it. Greg sat up straighter in his chair, trying to see me. I sat up, pushing the trashcan towards the wall, and leaned back in my chair.

Greg leaned over the table and put a hand on my forehead. "Most guys would take offense that their wife throws up at hearing him say I miss you." I smiled weakly at him as he touched my cheek and neck. "You don't feel feverish, just sweaty and gross. Have you been feeling sick today?"

"No, just right now, I felt this intense need to vomit. But I have been fine all morning." I kept my eyes closed, but could hear him get out of his chair and walk over to my side of the desk. He sat on my desk and began feeling my glands.

"Glands seem fine. What have you eaten today?" he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a stethoscope. He placed it on my chest and listened for a few seconds.

"Nothing, yet. I did have a Coke this morning, but that was it."

He pulled the trashcan towards him with his cane and looked inside. "Gross."

"Greg, I am fine. Stop looking at my vomit, it's weird."

He stared intently at me with that 'I am going to figure out this puzzle' face of his. "Bella, people don't vomit for no reason. Let me run some tests."

I looked up at him. "No, you are not going to run tests on me after throwing up once. That is ridiculous."

We both turned towards the door as Will knocked once and then opened the door. "Ms. Gallagher, just a reminder that your meeting with Dr. Cuddy is in five minutes."

"You make him call you Ms. Gallagher?" Greg teased me.

I just ignored him. "Thanks, Will. I'm on my way." Will nodded his head and closed the door behind him. I stood up and grabbed the cream colored blazer, that matched the skirt I was wearing, off my chair and slipped it on. "I have to go do my job now," I said to Greg.

He pulled a stick of gum from his pocket and handed it to me. "Promise me you will page me the minute any new symptoms come up."

I shoved the gum in my mouth and smiled at him. "I promise. Now go do your job. We really can't afford to be a single income household, not with the way I spend money."

He playfully rolled his eyes at me and said, "Fine, if you insist."

As I made my way down to Lisa's office, I had to stop in the bathroom to vomit again. 'Oh, please don't let me get sick,' I thought as I opened the door to her office.

"Isabella, welcome back. How is your first day going?" Lisa greeted me, as I took a seat across from her at her desk.

"It's great. I have just been catching up on paperwork. What about you, how are things going today?"

Lisa looked at me with a face that said, 'don't get me started.' "I have already had to deal with House complaining about clinic duty and incompetent ER doctors."

I giggled at her, not envying her position as Greg's boss. "Well, I'm sorry." I pulled a couple of file folders from my briefcase and placed them in front of me. "So, I'm gone for a few weeks and suddenly your doctors can't keep up with their paperwork?" I joked.

Lisa rolled her eyes at me. "How bad is it?"

"Not that bad. Drs. Nolo, Stein, and Liebowitz all have yet to renew their credentials. They have a week to do that. I have already assigned that to Paulson and he should be done by lunch. Woods is prepping Dr. Wolfe for his disciplinary hearing, which is scheduled for tomorrow. Finally, I have some questions about billing practices in the clinic to prepare for my meeting with Medicare."

Lisa nodded, looking through the files I had passed over to her. "Alright, shoot."

"Okay, first – " I was cut off by the need to vomit yet again. I dove for the trashcan sitting next to the desk.

Lisa got up from her seat and walked over to me. "Isabella, are you okay?" She gently rubbed my back as I continued to lean over the trashcan.

"I don't know. I have already vomited like four times in the past thirty minutes." I sat up in the chair, allowing the nausea to pass.

"Four times in thirty minutes? I am paging House." Lisa reached for her desk phone.

"Lisa, it is probably just a hangover. I do not need an infectious disease or nephrology specialist." I rubbed my forehead.

"Maybe not, but you do need your husband. I have already paged him." Lisa hung up the phone. I smiled weakly at her as she put a hand on my shoulder. "Let's go find an empty exam room in the clinic. At the very least, he can get you some compazine and maybe a banana bag."

"Fine," I said, walking into the clinic with Lisa holding onto my elbow.

"Brenda, which room is empty?" Lisa inquired.

Nurse Brenda looked at the patient log and said, "Exam room two is open."

"Great, when he gets here, please tell Dr. House he has a patient in exam room two."

I laid down on the patient table feeling the nausea getting more intense. "I feel sick again," I muttered, as I reached for the little pink basin sitting on the counter.

Lisa handed me a hair tie. "Here, so you don't get your hair messy."

"How dare you page me to the clinic when it is not my clinic hours." Greg entered the exam room oblivious I was the patient, keeping his head down as he tried to get a pill from his pocket.

"House, relax, it's Isabella." As Lisa spoke, Greg's head shot up and he stared at me. "Now, that you are here, I will leave her in your care."

Nodding at Lisa, Greg hooked the tiny doctor's chair with his cane, pulling it towards him. He sat down on it and then scooted over to where I was lying. "You're pale. How many more times have you vomited?"

"I think five maybe six times," I answered him as he placed the back of his hand on my forehead. He looked quizzically at me. "Greg, I am fine. I'm sure it is just a hangover."

"That would be some trick, considering you didn't drink anything last night," he said sarcastically. "Do you have any other symptoms? Anything at all that is different?"

I closed my eyes and thought for a minute. "Um, I have been just exhausted all week, you know taking naps in the middle of the day and stuff, but I assumed it was just my body recovering from my ridiculous family."

Greg looked up at the ceiling and muttered under his breath, "Damn," then louder, "Have you had to pee more often? Fun bags extra sensitive?"

I met his gaze, "Um, I'm not really sure about having to pee more, but now that you mention it my boobs do seem more sore this week and it did kind of hurt when you were playing with them last night. Oh God, I gotta puke again." I leaned over the table, preparing to vomit. "No, false alarm," I muttered. Greg limped over to the cabinet and grabbed a syringe, tourniquet and vial. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"I need your blood." He gently grabbed my arm and tied it off with the tourniquet, his demeanor becoming more and more serious.

"Why? Greg, tell me what you are thinking." He was starting to unnerve me.

"You're pregnant," he said matter of factly.

My eyes got huge. "WHAT?" I did not believe what I was hearing. "That is impossible."

Greg took the vial of blood and slipped it into his jacket pocket. "Come on, Bella, it is not impossible and you know that." He did not look at me.

"But, how? I am on the pill."

"The pill is only 99.9% effective. Apparently your egg was extra determined this month. I'll find you when I have confirmation. Oh and eat some crackers for the nausea." Greg hobbled out of the room, dealing with me as if I was just any other clinic patient.

I fell back on the table with a huge sigh, not feeling strong enough to stop him. There were a million thoughts going through my head. What am I going to do if I am pregnant? What is Greg going to do? Can we raise a child? How on earth does a doctor get his wife pregnant accidentally? Should I keep the baby? I didn't know what to do. I slowly got up from the table and left the exam room. I made my way to the elevator, just wanting to get to my office and hide in there. When I got to my office, I was relieved to see that Will was not there. I sat down at my desk and tried to get some work down while I waited for the test results.

I was able to distract myself enough until lunch that I actually got some work done. I was feeling better, so I decided to try to eat something. When I got to the cafeteria, I spotted Greg and James sitting at one of the far tables. James was looking over a file and Greg was rubbing his forehead with his fist, the way he always does when he is having a serious conversation. I decided to venture over to their table.

I walked up behind Greg and placing my hands on his shoulders, leaned down to give him a peck on the cheek. "Hey," I said softly in his ear.

Greg, startled, looked up at me. "Feeling better?"

James quickly closed the file and passed it across the table to Greg, who then shoved it under his plate. "Hi, Isabella. I was just leaving," he abruptly stood up and walked out of the cafeteria.

I sat down in James's empty seat. "I haven't thrown up in three hours. What's up with James?"

Greg slowly and deliberately bounced his cane on the ground, not meeting my eyes. "Your blood work is back."

I reached out and grabbed onto his cane. "Greg, look at me." He met my gaze. "Whatever the tests say, we are going to be okay." I hoped I sounded stronger than I felt.

Greg took the file from under his plate and passed it to me. "Your hormone levels are a little high, but nothing to be worried about yet."

I just stared at the file, reading the word positive over and over. I could feel Greg's gaze on me. I knew he was waiting for a reaction, a response, anything, but I could barely breathe. No matter what I said to Greg, I did not believe that we would be okay or that we could even handle it. I felt tears welling up in my eyes, which just made me angrier. I looked up at Greg.

"Now this, I did not expect," he commented when he saw my watery eyes.

I was about to speak, when Greg quickly closed the file over my hand. "We have a problem," Dr. Chase had run up to our table, out of breath.

Greg jerked his thumb at me and said, "I'm busy." I quickly looked away from Chase, not wanting him to see my tears.

"Isabella, are you okay?" Chase asked me.

"She's fine," Greg answered for me. "I thought you had a problem."

Chase looked from me to Greg and then slowly answered, "Our patient just had a stroke."

Greg stared at me, searching my eyes for anything. Without breaking eye contact with me, he said to Chase, "I'm right behind you." Greg stood up and placed a hand on my shoulder, "Bella, I'm sorry."

I wiped my eyes with a napkin, "Don't be sorry, I understand. You have to go."

He leaned down until he was inches from my face, "That's not what I'm sorry about. I promise to get away as soon as I can." He gave me a quick kiss and then walked away.

******************************************************************************************************************************

I left that afternoon without telling Greg. I told Lisa I was still feeling nauseous and that I would work from home. When I got home, I immediately changed and plopped down in front of my television. I was sitting on the couch, wearing sweatpants and a Georgetown University hooded sweatshirt, eating an entire chocolate cake, watching reruns of Grey's Anatomy when Greg finally came home at 8:30 that night. I didn't say anything as he made his way over to the couch. Sitting down he leaned his cane up against the coffee table and physically lifted his right leg up on the table with both hands, then flung his left leg over it.

"You know you don't have to gain all your pregnancy weight within the first day. You can pace yourself." He grabbed the fork I was bringing up to my mouth and redirected it to his own mouth. "That patient has a pheochromocytoma, not a brain infection," Greg said pointing to the television.

"Thanks, Dr. McDreamy. What would I do without you here to point out the inaccuracies of my favorite medical dramas?"

"McDreamy? I would have thought, for sure, I was McSteamy." I chuckled at him as he grabbed another bite of cake. "You didn't tell me you were leaving early."

"Since when do we update each other with every move we make?" I asked, a little too defensively.

"I was looking for you," he said, turning to look at me. "I wanted to talk to you." I put the cake down on the coffee table and turned off the television. "Hey, I wanted to see if I was right about the pheo."

"It's a repeat. Your diagnosis is right." I rolled my eyes at him. He couldn't even resist a fictional puzzle. "So what did you want to talk about?" He grinned at me, as if he was saying, 'you got to be kidding.' "Okay, you're right, I won't joke. Do you want to talk about how your day was or the baby?"

"I want to talk about you," he said, sincerely.

I smiled at him and thought to myself, 'This is why I love him.' When the shit hits the fan, he was able to be the man I needed him to be. "Okay."

He tugged gently on my knees, "Come over here. I would come to you, but," he pointed at his leg, with a little smirk. I snuggled up to him, fitting right in the nook of his arm and he wrapped his arm around my body, resting his hand on my thigh. I put my head on his chest, waiting to see if he would talk first.

After what seemed like an eternity, I decided to break the silence. "So, how the fuck did this happen?"

My head bounced a little on his chest as he chuckled at me. He put his finger to his lips, pretending to think, "Oh, I know this one. When a man and a woman love each other very much or – "

I playfully slapped his chest. "I know how babies are made, Greg. I was asking how did this happen to us."

His hand moved under my sweatshirt and I felt it on my bare skin. He absently stroked my stomach as he thought. "Statistically, you had a .1% chance of getting pregnant. It's not huge, but there is a chance."

"I knew I should have made you wear condoms every time we did it," I joked.

"Bella, don't be ridiculous. The only reason guys get married is so they can have sex without condoms."

"Oh, so the truth comes out." I placed a hand on his leg. "So, how do you feel about this?"

"How do you feel about this?" he asked back.

"I don't know," I answered quietly.

"Do you want a child?"

I thought for a minute. In all the endless conversations I had had with my sister about having a baby, I always thought I knew the answer to that question. But now that it was actually happening to me, I felt something I had never felt before. Maybe it was the hormones, maybe it was the maternal instinct finally kicking, but for the first time in my life, the idea of having a baby actually felt as if it was just what we needed, even though it scared the shit out of me. Still, I needed to try to stay objective. "I don't know. We couldn't even handle my family in this house for two weeks. Will we be able to handle it when there is someone else living here that we actually need to take care of?"

His hand stopped moving on my stomach. "A baby wouldn't be just another roommate, it would be our child."

I leaned back a little in his arms so I could look at him. "Are you saying you want this baby?"

He met my gaze. "I am merely pointing out the flaw in your excuse."

I giggled slightly at him as I settled back onto his chest. This was classic Greg House, avoiding giving his own opinion because he found it uninteresting. "And I am asking you, do you want this baby?"

"Isabella," he said, gently, "this is your decision. I will raise this baby with you or I will help you terminate, but it needs to be your decision."

"How sweet of you," I muttered sarcastically.

Greg rubbed his forehead and said, exasperated, "Look, I am not kidding myself. I know that chances are I will be a horrible father. I am an obsessive, self-involved ass incapable of change, not to mention all the things I will probably never be able to do with my child because of my leg. The reality is, I am not the kind of guy women dream of having children with. And you know that deep down you agree with me, otherwise you wouldn't even be considering terminating this pregnancy."

I fiddled with my wedding ring, not sure how to answer. I knew he was right. Because of his leg, he wouldn't be able to do things like play sports with the kid, give the kid piggy back rides, carry the kid from point A to point B, or run after an unruly child. But his doubt about his ability to be a father? Well, I shared those doubts about myself.

I rubbed his leg, feeling the outline of his scar. "Your leg and your doubts about what you will and will not be able to do is something we can handle and work through together. It is not even something I was taking into consideration." I paused and began fiddling with my ring again. "I am hesitating because chances are I will be a horrible mother. I am materialistic, I am narcissistic, I work too much, and I love being the center of attention. Last time I checked, those are not great qualities for a mother."

Greg's hand moved from my stomach to my head and he began running his hand through my hair. "Well, aren't we just the perfect candidates for parenthood. We have absolutely no faith in our abilities." I giggled at him. "Isabella, you might not be a conventional mother, but you would be a great mother."

I immediately looked up at him, grabbed his face in my hands, and kissed him deeply. "Do you really think so?"

"Absolutely. I mean, come on, you have been taking care of me for the entirety of our relationship and I know for a fact that an infant will only be half as needy as I am." He smiled at me.

"What do you want to do?"

He stroked his chin with the hand not currently in my hair. "Like I said before, this is your decision. I will support you either way."

"I need to know what you think in order to make an informed decision." His refusal to give me any kind of opinion was starting to annoy me.

He puffed his checks and thought for a minute. "I would not be upset if you kept the baby," he said carefully.

"Oh my God, you want this baby!" I said, with a little smile.

He had a sheepish smile, almost as if he was embarrassed by his feelings. "That is not what I said."

"I think I want this baby, too," I said quietly.

He tenderly kissed me on the lips. "I still have my doubts."

"I know. I do too." I snuggled in closer, resting my head on his chest. "Greg?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't want to tell anyone yet," I said softly.

He hesitated, "Well, I can promise not to tell anyone else."

I smiled, in spite of myself. "You told James already, didn't you?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I showed him your blood work."

"Whatever happened to doctor – patient confidentiality?"

"I needed a consult. That is allowed," he joked and then more seriously, "He won't tell anyone."

"You know what this means, don't you? We are becoming a family," I said into his chest.

"Yeah, I guess we are."

"I don't want to turn into my family," I told him quietly.

He kissed me on the forehead. "I don't want to turn into my family."

"I love you, Greg."

"I love you, too, Bella."

We sat there in silence for a few more minutes. Greg was stroking my hair as I rubbed his leg. I felt my eyes closing and knew it was time for bed. I stood up, but he continued holding on to my waist. "I have to go to bed," I explained.

He tugged on my waist, causing me to fall back in his lap. "Do you feel good about this?" he asked in a rare moment of tender concern.

"I will. It's just going to take some time. Do you feel good about this?" I asked, adjusting myself in his lap, so I wasn't on his right leg at all.

"I will. It's just going to take massive amounts of Vicodin." He flashed me a soft smile and relinquished his hold on my waist.

"Are you coming to bed?" I asked, standing up.

"I'll be in in a minute," he answered, reaching for the remote.

I knew he would not be in in a minute and that he probably wouldn't be in until he could be sure I was asleep. Today we had had more emotional, relationshipy conversations than we usually did in an entire year and I knew he needed time by himself to process.

"Good night, Greg," I called out as I walked down the hall to our room.

"Good night, Bella."