Chapter 24

House rolled his eyes at Anne and bent down to help his mother. "Perfect. Look at what you've done now. I'll be lectured about how impolitic it is to NOT inform your parents of your sacred business."

"You mean something as sacred and SECRETIVE as dying?" John growled at his son. It was, after all, the only reaction he could muster. John was just as in shock as Blythe had been. He bent down beside his wife. Despite his rough, gruff, tall, BIG appearance (he was a good 2 inches taller than his 6'3" son) he gently took his wife in his arms and cradled her against him.

"So you had no intention of telling your parents their son was dying?" Canada chose that moment to finally say something.

House watched his parents and stood up with silent relief as she groaned. She was coming to. "Wha…? What happened? Where am I?"

John sighed with relief. "Bly? Honey? It's ok. You fainted."

She looked at her husband with an expression of sheer bewilderment. "Why?"

"Because," John glanced at his son, "a complete stranger informed us our only son is dying…and he had no intention of telling us himself."

House's mouth closed as he digested the look his father gave him. It was disappointment; it was anger. The usual. But it was the heartbreak; the sadness; the BETRAYAL that his ONLY SON failed to tell him that, in a short while, he wasn't going to be around. Once House had recovered from this, he turned on his heel and found Anne still standing there, a genuine look of sadness on her face. She knew she shouldn't have said anything…but she also knew he probably wasn't going to say anything himself. Anne categorized it as helping him and his family. Yet Anne had a feeling he wasn't going to see it that way.

Never removing his eyes from her, House slowly moved towards Anne. Her eyes widened with shock at the look in his eyes and began backing up, towards the long hallway of rooms. In a low, excruciatingly painful and angry voice, House growled, "How DARE YOU tell them ANY of my business. You had NO right to barge in here and interfere. Just who do you think you are anyway?" They kept walking, her backing up, him limping towards her. But halfway down the hallway she saw how each step was hurting him more and more, so much so that, by the end of the hall, he was doubled over, holding his stomach. She snapped to attention and put her arm around his back.

"House, we've got to get you to bed. You need to rest. You've been doing way too much. Are you on this floor?"

House could only nod and managed to pull out his room key. "427." They easily located the room and she gently laid him on the bed, making him more comfortable as she removed his jacket. Retrieving a glass of cold water she returned to see him place a hand on his head and her heart tugged at the obvious pain in his eyes as he clutched his stomach with his other hand. "House, stay here. Don't move. I'll go talk to the others."

House opened his mouth to tell her to leave him alone. That's what he did: he didn't want others helping him, be NICE to him. That's a sign of weakness, something his father drilled, from a young age, how EVIL it was to show weakness. But he shut his mouth. He couldn't understand it: he was actually too weak to care anymore. That never happened to him, even during all those excruciating nights of tormenting pain.

Nodding, Anne turned and found the others.
*****

"Where's Greg?" Canada asked when Anne approached.

"He's in a lot of pain and needs to rest but he's in good hands. I'm a doctor." Anne said.

"Who ARE you?" John asked, thoroughly confused as to how this woman knew so much about his son. It was obvious from the look on House's face he didn't know anything about the woman.

Anne sighed and face-palmed. "I'm Doctor Anne Wilson-Donaldson. I'm Dr. James Wilson's cousin."

Blythe's eyes widened. "Jimmy's cousin? Does Greg know that?"

Anne shook her head. "No. Jim called me the day he heard about House's road trip and asked me to follow him."

Blythe's face contorted in confusion. "Follow him?"

Anne nodded and chuckled ruefully. "I'm an avid biker. My late husband and I used to bike across the United States all the time so I know a lot of great routes. Jim was worried…" Anne stopped and looked at her hands. "Jim was worried about this, about House being in a strange place alone and in pain so he asked me to keep an eye on him."

"Greg's gonna flip his lid when he finds out what you're doing," John chuckled with disbelief. "But why did you tell us about Greg?" John paused and immediately calmed as very rare tears surfaced over his eyes. "And…and…what's wrong with Greg?"

"Stomach cancer. He's only got 5 months. I told you because I knew he'd never. He's very prideful and doesn't want anyone fawning over him. While admirable, it's just idiotic. And he's driven too hard. He needs to rest. Canada," Anne turned to the stunned woman. "you said the bike will be ready in a few days, right?" Canada nodded. "Let him rest then tell him its ready. And I'll steer clear for awhile so you can say goodbye." She could see the tears filling Canada's eyes and her heart tugged for her. Canada agreed then, with one last look down the hall, slowly got on the elevator. Just as the doors were closing, the sound of wailing reached everyone's ears.

Turning to the elder Houses, who were still in a state of shock/denial/sadness all rolled into one ('Sure makes the grieving process go by faster,' Anne thought then felt guilty for that.) she said, "Let me talk with him, examine him, tell him who I really am then you can come visit. Is that ok?"

John and Blythe nodded. "We'll be downstairs. Come get us when you're ready." Anne nodded and turned to walk down the hall. She hadn't taken three steps before Blythe asked, "Anne? You said late husband, right?"

Anne stopped but didn't turn around. "Yes." The pain in her voice was evident.

"You are so young, too young to be a widow. How did he die?"

Looking down, her back still to them, she said, as loudly as she could muster, "I'm a pediatric surgeon and John was an Oncologist." She slowly turned to them and the Houses saw the tears slip down her face. "He died of stomach cancer." She backed up a few steps then from their looks of realization. She didn't want to see the pity. She'd seen enough in her one lifetime to easily outlast three lifetimes.

Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself as she steadied her normally rock-solid nerves and headed back to the room.

Now all she had to do was tell him…
*****

Standing outside his door, Anne took a few deep breaths before inserting the key. She didn't look forward to having this conversation with him, especially given his current state of agonizing pain. But she knew, sooner or later, it had to happen. Might as well get it over with. How fast can a lion eat you anyway? Pushing the door open she found…nothing.

That is, except for a knotted bed sheet and an open window.

For a moment she didn't know what to do except stare, open mouthed, at the scene in front of her. If it wasn't for the grunting and scratching coming from the other end of that homemade rope, she'd didn't know how long she'd have stood there.

Anne realized she, and everyone else, had been had: House was not in excruciating pain. He was making the whole thing up. Quickly resolving NOT to tell him who she was just yet, she needed to determine why he was attempting a "Great Escape" exit from the hotel. But she'd never find out if she continued to let the escape artist dangle from the fourth-floor window.

Taking a moment to roll her eyes, she marched to the open window and looked down. Despite the situation, she found herself stifling her laughter as she took in the scene enfolding in front of her (well, more like below her): House, dangling from the rope, his cane somehow shoved into his rear belt loop, his grunts the only sign of his exertion.

Grabbing the rope, she yanked suddenly, causing House to shriek with surprise and glare above him. "And just what do you think you're doing?" Anne called.

"I'm darning socks. The light's better out here."

"Interesting." She began yanking and he shrieked again then stopped when he realized she was actually making progress and he was moving up!

"Whoa, whoa, WHOA!" he yelled but she didn't stop. Swinging furiously, House attempted to stop her but couldn't. About three-fourths the way up he stopped and asked, "You can't possibly be pulling me up. How are you doing that?"

"Easy…" she stopped pulling. "The bellhop just happened to walk by the open door and he's doing most of the pulling." House suddenly saw a dark-headed man stick his head out the window, smile and wave.

In spite of himself, House laughed. That little girl's got spunk. He suddenly quieted and looked down, as if contemplating how far the drop really was.

Anne immediately knew what he was doing and her eyes widened. "Don't EVEN think about it. I'm carrying a gun, I will shoot you. That's a promise."

It was his eyes' turn to widen and then he tilted his head back. "Really? That t-shirt looks awfully tight. Where do you keep it?"

"Never you mind." Mr. Bellhop (who was also looking for the elusive gun) and Anne started pulling, which only made him rock harder. "Stop it!" she yelled.

"Only if you tell me where it is. I've got a very vivid imagination and know Women's Anatomy like the back of my hand."

"I do too, strangely enough. Let's just say it's safe and very, very warm." That little comment suddenly made him warm…and jealous of the gun…but he stubbornly refused to give in. "Ok, fine." Anne's face became very stoic. "If you promise to be a good boy and come up peacefully, I'll tell you where it is."

"I'd much prefer you showing me," he grinned wickedly.

"Or we could just let you drop and you can break both legs, thereby leaving you in traction and never having the opportunity to get better acquainted with Canada. The choice is up to you." Anne held on to the rope but leaned against the windowsill, her resolve as strong as his.

House stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. "I'd find a way. I know many tricks."

"I'm sure you're well-versed in many sexual respects, none of which I care to hear about. Just get up here."

Perhaps he finally realized the argument was pointless, given his current position; perhaps he hated swinging in mid-air from the fourth floor; perhaps he really, REALLY wanted to see her gun; perhaps he wanted to discuss these "sexual respects" further. Whatever the reason it was enough to persuade him to agree and he nodded.

"That's a good boy." And, with a few heaves later, Mr. Bellhop and Anne got House back inside the hotel. Once they ascertained House was ok…just a lying, thoughtless idiot…Mr. Bellhop was still standing there. Anne turned to him and said, "Thank you for your help. I really appreciate it." But he didn't move. Anne's eyes lit up. "Of course, you want a tip. Ok…" she went over to her saddlebags and extracted a $10. He took it but didn't move. "What now?"

Mr. Bellhop grinned. "I wanna see the gun."

House chuckled in a very "See what I mean? You've got to show us now." fashion.

Anne, still standing in front of Mr. Bellhop, raised her eyebrows. Shifting to face the bed, she lifted her left leg so her foot rested on the bed. Looking at the men, Mr. Bellhop's pale cheeks flushed with anticipation. And House? House was watching her every action like a hungry Doberman who spied a T-bone steak. Smirking, Anne inched her shorts-leg up, showing more and more of her pale skin, smirking evermore as both men took deep inhales of breath. Up and up and up the shorts went until House was SURE he saw a flash of some shiny pink material. Finally he saw…absolutely nothing.

It had been her turn to "punk" House…and she was very successful.

Despite this deception, or perhaps because of it, House had a newfound respect for his stalker. This is one tough, clever broad…but I can soften her up. Just once, that's all I need. Just once.

Oh, House, you sex-crazed maniac. You don't have to sleep with the woman to prove who you are.

There you are! He greeted Ole' Faithful. I missed you buddy. I know I don't but it's a way more fun than doing the honorable thing. Now leave me alone…I need to figure out how to make a woman of a certain redhead.

Mr. Bellhop's eyes widened when he realized he'd been had then left, swearing under his breath. "That's what you get for being curious," she called behind him. Turning to House, she put her leg down and crossed her arms. "Great job. You do realize, of course, you don't have your bike and you came with Canada. You wouldn't have had transportation anywhere. Did you even think that far ahead or were you just so proud of yourself for pulling a fast-one on your own parents? How dare you try and sneak out of this problem? And what about Canada? One minute you two are going hot and heavy, the next you're bailing. What gives?"

House's sexual motivations completely evaporated with her allegations. "That's none of your business." He was starting to get upset, thereby making his responses choppy and harried. "And you should've just let me go. And you never answered my question: why are you here?"

She didn't answer him, just stared him down. "Your parents are the reason you were leaving, aren't they? You were never going to tell them."

"Would it have mattered?"

"Would it have mattered?" She repeated, only her version accentuated each word with a heavy dose of incredulous emphasis. She found it extremely hard to believe a child wouldn't tell their parents they were dying. "They looked heartbroken when they heard you were dying and their faces were so pained when they saw you in pain. Of course it would've mattered." She watched him a bit. "Did they hurt you?"

"Again, none of your business. Go bail someone else out of trouble. I'm fine."

By then Anne was seeing red. Livid, she moved closer to House, grabbed his shirt collar and spoke before she thought. "I don't have a choice: I can't let you be. It's my responsibility to see you act responsibly." Oops, Anne instantly regretted. I said too much. And after I agreed to say nothing.

House looked at her oddly. "What do you mean, you don't have a choice? What's going on?"

She took a step back, released his collar, and headed for the door. "You should talk to them. They're down the hall. I'm leaving now." Behind her she heard his heavy STEP-STEP-THUMP as she threw open the door…only to be greeted by John House, holding his fist up as if just about to knock; Blythe, wringing a handkerchief; and Canada, sheer panic and concern marring her beautiful countenance.

"Son! You look like you're feeling better." John exclaimed, eyeing his son up and down. Turning to Anne, he smiled. "Jimmy's cousin must be as good of a doctor as she is beautiful."

Anne closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. This is it, she thought, bracing herself for what was, inevitably, coming…and coming hard and fast.

"Jimmy's cousin?" House asked, realization dawning in his voice, along with curiosity to affirm this realization. "What do you mean?"

"Greg, you mean you don't know yet? Anne is Anne Wilson-Donaldson, Jimmy's first cousin. Jimmy asked her to follow you, to keep you out of trouble."

Anne took a deep breath and turned around, only to find a look of pure glee and yet, at the same time, wickedness, on his face…she knew he was SO going to use this to his advantage. Anne smiled lightly. House leaned over and whispered, so only she could hear, "Don't you wish you now had that gun? The games are on, woman, and you've got to defend yourself."

And Anne knew she was right.

The rest of the trip would be very, VERY interesting.

Like it or not, she was following the dying, cranky doctor back to Princeton.

*****

Gathering her wits about her, Anne took in the scene around her: the older set of Houses staring at their son with a mixture of sadness, anger and regret; House, watching Anne with a evil twinkle in his eyes…and Canada was still there!

Suddenly developing a "cough"…more like an escape ploy…Anne nodded to everyone. "Excuse me…" COUGH, COUGH. "…I'll let you folks talk." COUGH, COUGH. "Nice to meet you." Anne began walking around the group of people in the doorway.

"And I guess I'll see you later?" House asked an innocent look on his eyes. Anne wasn't fooled; she'd seen the twinkle in his beautiful blue eyes. It's not over, it's just begun, they promised. And she believed him.

Anne sped walked down the hall and out of the hotel, speeding to hers a couple doors down. Running into her room, she pulled out her phone. Quickly dialing, the person on the other end picked up after two rings.

"Dr. James Wilson."

"Jimmy? It's Anne. He found out about me and you and what's going on." SILENCE. "Jimmy, are you still there?"

SIGH. "Where are you now?"

"We're in San Diego, in separate hotels."

"Get back to his room! He's gonna bolt."

Anne smiled. "He's not going anywhere. His bike's wrecked. Besides, he doesn't know it but I can follow his GPS program."

She heard the smile in his voice. "Where did you learn that?"

"John wasn't just an Oncologist: he was a computer geek. He passed that along to me. I've wired his system so I can follow that bike wherever he goes."

"And he's not going to leave without it either. Smart girl." Wilson chuckled.

"Why of course." Her hotel phone rang, startling the living daylights out of her.

"Anne? Are you ok?"

Anne stared at the ringing phone for a few beats then said, "Hold on Jimmy. I gotta get the phone." She put her cell phone down and picked up the hotel phone. "Hello?"

"Miss me?" It was House. Anne rolled her eyes then, spying the speaker button, pressed it and laid the handset back on the cradle.

"You know it baby. It's the cane: I've stayed up nights thinking about what that long, shiny piece of wood could do to me."

"Actually," House chuckled sinisterly, "I've got another long, shiny piece of wood I'd like to introduce to you."

Not giving him the satisfaction of knowing he'd done nothing but made her upset, she ignored the comment. "How did you know where I am?"

"I have my sources." She suddenly spied the mute button and, wanting to inform Jimmy of the situation, she needed to talk to him. Fortunately, she had her chance when House said, "Hold on a minute…Canada's lying naked over me and I don't think she should be in the room while you and I have phone sex." PAUSE. "Perhaps she could join us."

"No, that's ok. I'll hold on." Anne pressed the Mute button and grabbed her cell phone.

"Jimmy, did you hear that?"

He was chuckling. "Yep. I'll stay on the phone. This should get interesting."

"Hold on." Anne placed the cell phone next to the room phone…

*****

Meanwhile, in House's hotel room, he was alone with Canada. He'd explained to his parents they would have to talk the next day. He was tired and they had plans. They'd agreed to meet for lunch.

Laying down the receiver, House made a very grave mistake, which was something he rarely did: House, intending to hit the hold button, inadvertently hit the speaker button. Turning to Canada, who was fully clothed by the way, and listening to Anne and House's entire conversation, he took her arm and moved her to the door.

*****

Just as Anne depressed the Mute button, she heard voices coming over the phone. "I've got to lose the spy. She's crampin' my style. How soon can you have the bike done?"

Anne's mouth dropped. I wonder if he knows I can hear him, she wondered, silently of course. There was no way she was giving away her crucial position.

"The part came in late this afternoon, much sooner than they told me. We'll have it done tomorrow." Canada's uncertain voice faded in the background.

I wonder how Canada feels about all this. Don't tell me she still wants to sleep with the ogre.

"Good. I'll leave tomorrow night. I've got to dump the broad."

BROAD????!!! Anne huffed incredulously to herself. The nerve. Oh, this is one ride he'll NEVER forget…I'll make sure of it. In fact... the lightbulb over Anne's head flipped on suddenly. JERRY! His shop is around here. I'll just take him up on that promise of a new bike. Anne's heart swelled with grief as she remembered that promise Jerry made to John before he was diagnosed with cancer. She didn't have much time to concentrate on her grief because Canada spoke just then.

"Are you sure you should be doing this? I mean, it's obvious she just wants to help you. Besides, it gets lonely on the road. You might need a traveling companion."

"What do I look like, Peter Fonda? I'm not Jack Nicholson and this isn't Easy Rider. I ride alone."

Anne didn't catch Canada's response because her plan was taking shape: get the new bike, a new wardrobe, even hair color. Be mysterious and coy so he'll never realize it's her. And not be so inconspicuous. Geez, I might as well have waved a flag saying, "Hey, it's Anne and I'm following you." Gotta work on that.

Just then the phone clicked and House was back on. "Ok, I'm ready for sex. What are you wearing?"

I've gotta put a stop to that…and real quick. "House, I wouldn't have any sort of sex with you, in ANY POSSIBLE WAY, as long as the earth is round and turning on an axis."

He made a gasping noise. "You wound me. You really do." He sighed dramatically and completely arrogantly. "Just know I'm gonna spend all night thinking of you and what you could do to me…I mean, with me…" his voice trailed off, sounding almost as if he was falling off a cliff, a kind of whining noise.

"I'm hanging up right now," Anne said.

"Fine. See you tomorrow." And, with that, CLICK went the phone.

Anne sighed, made sure the phone was completely hung up, then turned back to Jimmy, still on her cell.

"Jimmy? Are you still there?"

"I told you he was going to bolt. Now what will you do?"

"I have a cunning plan." And, laughing, Anne relayed her dastardly plan, leaving Jimmy laughing and congratulating her ingenuity.

*****

Meanwhile…

"Come here," House groaned deeply and limped over to Canada, who was still in the room, watching him incredulously, not quite believing what he was doing or saying. She was resolved not to spend the night with him and turned on her heel, attempting to flee the room. But, for a man with a cane, House was quite agile and light on his feet. He grabbed her hand, spun her around, firmly pulled her to him and plastered his mouth on hers. Her reluctant arm movements and attempts to move back, out of his arms, ceased when his hands began roaming, feeling his way all over his prey.

It didn't take long for his prey to surrender to his bait. Her moans and sighs kick-started his intense and mounting desire for a much more intimate contact into overdrive. He turned her toward the bed and gently prodded her backwards toward it as he began working the buttons on her shirt. His body tingled with heightened sensitivity and his breathing became even labored as she fought with the belt buckle before falling backwards onto the bed…
*****