As soon as they reached the bed, Jamie assured him she'd be right back. She left him sitting on the edge of the mattress and hurried back to sweep up the broken glass left behind on the kitchen floor. House's bitter complaint that the broken pieces weren't going anywhere was from tired frustration, and was readily squashed with the argument she didn't want Indy or either of them to forget and cut themselves on the sharp pieces later.
She left him grumbling about frigid temperatures and set about cleaning up the scattered bits of the coffee mug that covered the kitchen floor. With the broom handle nestled against her neck, she one handedly swept the pieces into the dust pan. Wrapped up in her task, she did what came naturally to her after so many years, and began humming a childhood tune without thinking. House recognized the song as Paul McCartney's Blackbird, and wondered if it was just a subconscious choice or if the words held special meaning for her. Such was the case with a lot of music, he thought, if one contemplated the actual lyrics.
"Why do you keep running away?"
The words brought her up short and her humming fell silent, replaced with the swish of the broom. She gave him a puzzled look. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said with a shake of her head. Her back was to him as she emptied the contents of the dust pan into the garbage under the sink and to him it seemed that she stretched out the time it took to put away the broom and pan, finishing up by washing her hands.
House was already lying under the covers on the far side of the bed. He caught Jamie looking over her shoulder at him and pretended to stare up at the ceiling. He clasped his hands behind his head prepared to wait as she continued to stall.
First she picked up the dirty clothing left lying about the small living space and stuffed it into a wicker hamper set in the corner by the bed. She then proceeded to replenish the stove with a few pieces of wood and rearrange whatever was left in the bin. After several more minutes of delay tactics, she appeared unable to find any more excuses to remain busy and finally settled tentatively under the covers as far from House as possible, while still remaining in the bed.
House's eyes were closed and he felt the bed sag under her weight. He was already familiar enough to know she preferred to sleep on her side and continued to wait patiently until she rolled to her right. Exactly where he wanted her, as he turned his head and gauging her reaction, he knew she expected him to be asleep.
Jamie was sure House had dozed off while she had kept herself busy with meaningless tasks, unsure why, this time, she was so nervous about sharing the bed with him. Except she knew that wasn't true. She knew exactly why she was nervous. He brought out emotions in her she'd thought long buried, and yet here was someone she was already believing in and wanting to trust. Friendship was one thing, a controllable distance, but he made her want to stretch those boundaries – and her body was only too eager to take the leap.
His eyes opened when she turned to get comfortable and suddenly her mouth was dry and her heartbeat increased. She was sure he could hear it pounding in the minimal distance that separated them.
"Decided to take a break?" His tone was light, but those piercing eyes demanded more. Startled, she rolled away but was stopped by an unyielding arm around her waist. Opening her mouth to protest he cut her off. "Stop running."
"I'm not," she hissed, pulling against his arm and noting with satisfaction that he winced with the effort of trying to hold her. Her hands were now splayed against his chest in an effort to push him back and her body tensed when his other hand found its way to the back of her neck. Strong fingers began stroking and rubbing at the base of her skull and the calming sensations warred with her emotions. The logical part of her protested at the intimacy of their position and the physical wanted nothing more than to stretch languidly and hum with contentment.
His eyes never left hers, offering a reassuring calmness without words. As her body relaxed, his face softened, reflecting her surrender. His hold around her waist loosened in response while his fingers continued their massage. She closed her eyes and rolled her head a little enjoying the ministrations of his hand and allowed him to pull her closer until their bodies touched. She would probably be purring if she were a cat, and smiled at the thought.
"You lied to me," he said evenly, just above a whisper, and she would have seen the beginnings of a smile if she had opened her eyes.
"Everybody does," she responded almost sleepily. And then her face crinkled with realization and her eyes popped open. "I never lied to you." Suddenly she was on the defensive again. "What makes you think I did?"
"The instant acceptance when I told you my specialties."
She shrugged. "Infectious diseases and nephrology," she stated. "I don't see how that makes me a liar."
"A very, very good liar," he said, quickly planting a kiss on the top of her nose with a devil-may-care grin. Her confusion only made him grin wider, as if he'd caught her in the midst of a secret crime. "Nephrology?" He spat out suddenly, closing the distance between their faces, and laughed aloud when she shot back a single word in retaliation.
"Kidneys!" Her face turned a deep crimson as understanding dawned and she tried to pull the covers up over her head, but House was having none of that. Chuckling as he forced the covers back down, he rolled with her as she tried to distance herself, pinning her with his weight.
"I'm thinking that's not a course covered in Forestry. So, Doc," he said, letting it settle in the air with a grin of triumph on his face. His eyes moved quickly between hers, studying her reaction to his deduction.
Jamie turned her head and let out a long breath, resignation weighing heavily as her eyes filled with tears. "I already told you. I'm not a doctor."
"Your body says no, your articles say yes," he countered, shifting his weight, but not before Jamie understood the effect she was having on him.
Blinking back tears she faced him again, regaining some of her composure. "If you had looked closer at the articles, the MD was listed after Philip Brampton, with an ampersand separating the two names."
It was House's turn to look confused.
"It was a bastardization of the symbol," she explained. "Philip was the only doctor. Without him, I wouldn't have been able to pursue the research for my doctoral thesis. Which remains unfinished." She ran a hand across her face, letting a long sigh escape as if relieved by the admission.
"Which brings me back to my original question - why do you keep running?" He held her eyes in a steady gaze and flinched when her hand covered the scar on his thigh.
"Why do you?"
He pushed away and rolled onto his back, his hand now resting on his thigh, in the same place where hers had touched him. She followed him, their positions reversed as she leaned over him, her body pressing firmly above his. He was the one now retreating as a turtle pulling itself into its shell, and Jamie knew it was up to her to pull him back out of himself.
Her voice was low as she spoke. "We're both running from demons in our past," she whispered, placing a hand over his and offering a gentle squeeze. "It's much easier to keep moving than it is to turn and face them. I know it scares the hell out of me."
He opened his eyes only to find her head bent low so he couldn't see her face. Pulling his hand away from his thigh, he lifted her chin and kissed away a tear. His lips followed the wet trail down her cheek with butterfly kisses until he reached her mouth. There was a slight hesitancy as he brushed the corner of her slightly parted lips and pulled back, his eyes searching. After a moment's hesitation, their lips crashed in a pent up hunger longing for release. Hands roamed and explored as their bodies melded together, each searching for meaning and release. Separate injuries didn't prove too large of a deterrent as they compensated and adapted easily to each other's needs and desires.
It was clumsy, occasionally awkward, and probably way too fast, but neither of them cared.
Afterwards, lying together naked under the covers, House was mildly pleased with his performance and kissed the top of Jamie's head as another soft snore from her tickled his chest hairs. It had been a long while since he'd fallen asleep with a woman in his arms after sex. Long before the infarction. Stacy hadn't enjoyed cuddling after a vigorous romp, complaining that he was too hot, but secretly House had believed she was turned off by their combined sweat. Until now he hadn't realized how much that had bothered him. Being possessive by nature it only served as another reminder as to how incompatible they really had been, and he kissed Jamie again, pulling her tighter to him.
He didn't want to think about the deep abyss he stood on the edge of. Relationships never seemed to work for him, and he wasn't sure he was ready for the pain again. He reached out blindly for his Vicodin, aware that it only held the physical pain at bay for short periods, dry swallowed two pills and decided to live for the moment. Consequences be damned, he thought and felt a jolt of electricity shoot to his groin as Jamie shifted against him. He closed his eyes with a grin, wondering how morning sex would be.
+++house_md+++house_md++++
The blue glow of the computer screened bathed the office in unearthly shadows that reflected off the desk and bookcase behind it. The only other light in the room came from a thin yellow slip below the door leading to the hallway. A shadow crossed the solid beam followed by a soft knock.
Wilson lifted his head, squinting at the harsh intrusion and jerked upright as the door opened, suddenly becoming animated. The blue screensaver was replaced by a spreadsheet as his elbow hit the mouse, and he grabbed a pen and held it above the file he'd been laying on as Cameron poked her head inside.
"Doctor Wilson?" Her eyes swept the office as if expecting others to be there and Wilson hastily waved her in.
"Come in, come in. What can I do for you?" he asked, hoping he looked more alert than he felt, having dozed off after his last appointment, almost an hour ago according to his watch.
He stifled a yawn as she stepped inside still timid and peering around. "I-I was wondering if you'd heard anything from Doctor House," she stammered, her hands thrust into her lab coat pockets.
Wilson's shoulders sagged and he shook his head, laying the pen down and realizing the file he had used as a prop was upside down. "No, I haven't heard from him," he said, turning the file around, suddenly not caring if she knew how tired and worn out he was. "Was that it?" he asked, looking up and becoming annoyed at her interference now. Did the woman not know when her schoolgirl crush on her boss became obsessive and almost repugnant to those she worked with? Internally cringing at his harsh thoughts and blaming it on lack of sleep.
She pulled a white envelope out of her pocket and unfolded it, handing it across the desk. Wilson frowned and took it from her, noting it was addressed to House.
"I thought that might help," she stuttered quickly, pointing at the envelope in his hand. "I was answering his mail and it caught my attention."
Infatuation and boredom led people to do a lot of crazy things he thought, including becoming your boss's personal secretary. "Everything going all right? I mean with the clinic and the ER?" he said aloud, thinking that changing the subject for politeness sake would allow him to keep a check on his growing excitement. He was holding House's credit card billing statement, and was hard pressed not to rip it out of the envelope. The last thing he needed was for her to see his own eager anticipation, especially if it was a precursor to more disappointment.
"Yes, everything's going well. Chase is currently in NICU and Foreman's helping out in Neurology." Wilson nodded, pushing out of his chair.
"Good, good. Well, then, if everything's okay—" Cameron nodded in agreement as he directed her to the hallway. "I'm sure we'll see House in a week or so, and back to his usual routine," he added as an afterthought, not sure who he was trying to reassure, but glad she was taking the hint to leave.
"Goodnight, Doctor Wilson," she said, appearing slightly puzzled at the quick brush off and turned to head back towards the conference room.
"'Night, Doctor Cameron," Wilson parroted, then spun and closed the door hurriedly behind him.
His hands were shaking as he picked up the innocuous white envelope and slid the letter opener under the glued flap. Feeling a minor twinge of guilt as the knife edge tore across the envelope's crease, he quickly squashed it with the knowledge that House was always butting into his private affairs. And concern outweighed any cries of indignation his friend might voice.
The opener clattered to the desk as he pulled out the folded statement and smoothed it out his eyes going immediately to the last dates. He was breathing hard as he dropped into his chair, the statement lying beside his keyboard as he brought up Google and hurriedly typed in J&J Bike Rentals. It took a few minutes to locate a phone number and Wilson double checked the time. They were closed. He'd have to wait for morning, he sighed as he replaced the phone's receiver. A sudden thought occurred to him as he jotted the business's phone number down and quickly dialed.
They were on west coast time, three hours difference. And if he was lucky… He held his breath as the phone began ringing.
"Hello? Hello? Yes, I'm calling about a purchase made over a week ago." Wilson sat forward in his chair as if the motion would bring him closer to the speaker on the other end and relay his urgency. "It would be under the name of Gregory House, a credit card purchase made on the—" Wilson scanned the statement, his finger pointing out the purchase date as he relayed it. "Yes, thank you, I'll wait."
He leaned back, a satisfied smile on his face absently rubbing his neck, until the voice came back. "I'm sorry, what? No purchase? But I have a statement here—oh, I see." He was now rubbing at his forehead, an elbow supporting him on the desk. "Do you know the destination?" There was a long pause as Wilson listened to the speaker run through the usual legalese garbage of not being able to release information.
Panic began to creep into his voice. "Look, my name's James Wilson, Doctor James Wilson at Princeton Plainsborough Teaching Hospital, and my friend Greg House is missing. I'm just trying to locate him and I need to establish his last known whereabouts so that I can check the local hospitals." Wilson blew out an exasperated sigh as silence descended again. Seconds turned into interminable minutes as he waited.
"My social security number?" he began to object, and then chuckled as the speaker explaining that it was listed next to his name as the only emergency contact, along with his phone number. Go figure that House would have been thorough enough to supply his social security number, let alone remember it. He rattled off his number and listened as one of the owner's, a Jesse, apologized for the red tape. Wilson nodded, impatiently tapping a finger while awaiting information about House.
"Seattle? Are you sure? And that was last Wednesday? Yes, yes I see. Thank you." Wilson hung up the receiver, his mind reeling with possibilities while he brought up a listing for all the hospitals in and around Seattle and began to make more calls.
All the while he was asking himself why House would ride north, but then why did House do anything? And the only explanation he could come up with for House not answering his cell, or at least contacting him, would be if he'd been in a road accident. His stomach clenched each time he inquired and wondered if the sour feeling was the start of an ulcer.
No John Does fitting the description of House had checked in in the last week, which gave him some relief. And as hospital records hadn't been requested, House hadn't been admitted under his own name. Wilson pulled up a map detailing San Diego to Seattle, and wondered just what had happened to his friend. He scanned the credit card statement again, and aside from the monthly cable charge and a utility bill, there was nothing else listed to hint at his whereabouts.
He grew thoughtful; staring at the computer screen then reached a decision and grabbed his jacket and briefcase. Walking past the conference room he noted the darkened offices and let himself in. Thumbing through House's mail which Cameron had so thoughtfully sorted earlier, he pushed it aside with impatience when he realized what he was looking for wasn't there.
+++house_md+++house_md+++
Yep, House grinned to himself, scratching at the bandage around his midsection as he sipped a cup of hot coffee, morning sex had proven even more enjoyable. After that kind of pleasurable activity, he could understand King Kong standing atop the Empire State Building and announcing it to the world while beating on his chest. He felt just like that this morning.
Fiddling with the dials on the radio, Jamie glanced over her shoulder and cocked her head. "You look like the cat that ate the canary," she said, cheeks flushed and her own smile mirroring his sentiments.
Pops and whistles amongst the static were the only noises coming from the console. Even after making numerous adjustments and getting no response to her transmissions, Jamie continued monitoring the set.
House leaned back against the headboard, content to sip his coffee and bask in the afterglow, thinking over the morning's conversation before they'd become more familiar with each other in the physical sense.
Jamie had filled him in on her time and research at MIT, where she'd worked with computers in designing an artificial reality for bedridden individuals to experience the world outside. The program was still in its infancy, but she'd lit up like a supernova as she explained the intricacies of working with the neurologists and test subjects while refining the program. House was lost on some of the more technical aspects of the research, but followed the medical facets with ease.
He remained silent about his own discovery on the previous day, wanting more than anything to complete the puzzle of who Jamie was, but felt their relationship was on tenuous ground and found himself reluctant to jeopardize it. If anything, he was becoming more captivated by her.
As she talked he found himself staring at his thigh, imagining the deep scars she carried to be just as ugly on the inside. It was probably the only time in his life he'd felt guilty for trespassing in someone else's private affairs. And her open willingness to discuss this part of her past with him acted as a salve and he wondered, not for the first time, if he was capable of falling in love.
Not the kind of love Wilson continually fell into, where his need for neediness insured he was useful in a relationship, but a hint at what he and Stacy had experienced at the beginning of their relationship. The knowledge that someone was willing to put up with your good habits as well as bad, and be there to support you in everything you did. Thus far, Jamie hadn't put him on a pedestal nor made any demands on him, but simply accepted him for who he was.
He squirmed suddenly feeling closed in and almost spilled his coffee when he looked up to find her sitting beside him and studying his expression.
"What?" he asked, a bit too abruptly and her forehead creased, then she looked away hurriedly.
"I was wondering how a bath sounded?" she asked, unable to hide a small grin spreading.
"As long as I don't have to shave." He wiggled his eyebrows in response and pulled her to him for a kiss, remembering her squeals of delight as he'd brushed his beard over far more sensitive areas than her chin.
She tried to put on a serious face as she scratched at his whiskers. "You are a bit fuzzy," she said.
He tickled her under the arm. "You too," he countered, mentally kicking himself as she pulled away suddenly. He caught her arm and pulled her back. "Relax, it's okay," he said, nibbling at the skin under her jaw and rubbing her with his beard. "You can worry about it after the storm passes. Then we can both get a shave." He was already losing himself in the heady aroma of her and not caring that the edge of the precipice loomed closer.