Candy Canes and Mistletoe

Chapter 26

A/N: Hang onto to your knickers kids! This starts one crazy ride!

House sighed and ran his hand over his face in frustration. Two-hour delay. He couldn't fucking believe it. Severe thunderstorms over New York City and now he had to wait in the Boston airport until they passed. Fuck, he was pissed.

He called Remy to tell her not to leave her apartment until at least seven maybe seven thirty.

"It's fine," she said disappointedly. He knew she was looking forward to seeing him again as much as he was. "I'll just stay at the hospital and finish some paperwork so you can just sign it when you get back."

"You fight it but you're becoming my little Cameron day by day," he teased.

"Compare me to Cameron again and you'll find all of your unsigned, unfilled out charts sitting smack dab in the middle of Cuddy's desk," she threatened with a tone that said she was half way to his stash in the supply closet already.

He rolled his eyes on a chuckle. "No. You're nothing like her. You're way hotter."

"You're damn right," she boasted. "Oh speaking of… I had to go pick Chase up from Craigen's last night."

"Again? Why didn't he call Foreman?"

"He did. He wouldn't pick up the phone, or so I could make out through the babbling and occasional tears. I guess Foreman's date went better than any of us expected."

House frowned and let out a disgruntled breath as he limped over to the chairs where his ass would find a home for the next two hours. He juggled his coffee and cane under his arm because his other hand was occupied holding his phone. "I don't want you going out in the middle of the night to pick anyone up anymore."

He heard her let out an incredulous laugh and then all of a sudden she got quiet for a long, drawn out moment. "Lightening never strikes the same place twice, House."

"Yeah, and young do-gooders in love aren't suppose to die because protein bound to their kidneys in bus accident in the middle of the night because they were picking up some drunk asshole either."

She sighed quietly. "Okay."

House looked around the crowded airport watching the throng of people go by. Families with kids trailing after, adorned with little pink back packs and teddy bears. Flight attendants and pilots with small carry-ons wheeling behind them as the hurriedly went from one connection to another. He didn't mean to get so harsh with her. He hadn't even meant to be so overly protective. That wasn't him. He wasn't that guy. At all. It surprised him too when it came out of him mouth. He was sure Nolan would have all sorts of suppositions of repressed guilt and responsibility he would rather not hear.

He didn't really know what to say to her. So he said nothing and kind of left the ball in her court. They were silent for a while longer. When she finally spoke, her voice was stilted with irritation.

"Um… I guess if your done talking to me, I'm going to go and get started on that paperwork," she said. She was angry with him, probably more because he was quiet than because he'd snapped at her.

He sighed. "I'm sorry." When, she didn't respond, he continued. "I just…don't want…"

"I know," she cut him off gently. "It's ok."

"Ok."

"Go have your coffee. Chill out, read some airport porn, and I'll see you in a few hours," she told him. There was still a twinge of annoyance in her tone, but it was tempered a bit from his apology.

He huffed a little laugh. God, the woman knew his proclivities too well. "I actually found a whole issue of University Co-eds. Topless cheerleaders and girl-on-girl action in the campus library. You'd love it."

She chuckled merrily in his ear, her previous anger now forgotten. "I'm sure I would. Now go, I've got work to do. My boss is a sadistic slave driver."

"God, he sounds like such an asshole."

"He's got a cute ass, so it's all good."

House laughed. "See you in a little bit."

"Love you."

"Love you, too," he told her and flipped his phone shut.

"Wow, I heard three things I never thought I'd actually hear you say again in your entire life," a voice came from behind him.

House narrowed his eyes when he heard the comment and he wondered whom they were talking to. When he heard the disdainful laugh, he realized that it was directed at him. It was a bizarre comment coming from a stranger. But there was something about the voice… he knew it.

Turning around to peer over his should, he looked at the person and was shocked to find her sitting there in the flesh. "Stacey?"

"Hello, Greg."

House swallowed and then spun around in his seat. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Well, I would imagine the same as you, " she said with mild amusement. "Waiting for my plane. This seems to be a thing for us."

His brow furrowed and he just looked at her quizzically. It was almost like seeing a ghost. She looked the same, like she hadn't aged a bit. Her hair was the same rich chestnut, her eyes the same deep pools of mocha, her skin clear and unwrinkled. She looked amazing, but then again she always did.

"Nice hair," she smirked.

"Nice ass," he retorted.

She rolled her eyes and then looked away. "You can't see my ass."

"No, but I'm sure its bigger than the last time I saw you," he surmised. "With your penchant for petit fours and such."

She stabbed him with a snide smile and then huffed a sigh, ignoring his derisive comment. "So what brings you to Boston?"

"Medical conference. You?"

"Deposition," she replied.

"Still in Short Hills?"

"Yes. Happily. Still in Princeton?" she asked and then laughed. "Who am I kidding, of course you are. It would take a nuclear bomb to get you out of there and then of course you would stick around to treat all of the radiation sickness."

House tipped his head from side to side, considering her statement. "You're probably right."

"How is Wilson?"

"He's good," he said.

Stacey frowned slightly and then leaned in a little bit. "I heard about his girlfriend."

"Yeah," he murmured. Amber was turning up like a bad penny today. "It was… bad. But he's fine. New girlfriend, new apartment, new everything."

Smiling sympathetically, Stacey looked at him. "That's good to hear." She smirked at him taking in his appearance and chuckled. "You look like shit."

"Thank you," he said flatly. "How's Mark?"

Giving him a sidelong glance, she adjusted the closure of her suit jacket. "Fine. We got divorced two years ago."

"Aww, I'm so sorry to hear that, Stacey," he drawled, his sarcasm unmistakable.

"No you're not," she muttered. "It's what you wanted all along."

House sighed and looked at his hands around his paper coffee cup. "No, I didn't. I never wanted you to be unhappy."

Waving her hand dismissively, she blew it off and then swiveled a little to look more directly at him. "Obviously you've got someone new in your life. Do tell…"

He nodded, not really wanting to expand on his personal life with her.

Smiling, she took his silence as being secretive and arched a curious eyebrow at him. "Is it Lisa?"

"God no!"

She chuckled. "You two always did have a thing for each other."

House rolled his eyes and gave a little shudder. "Yeah, in the sense that Lorena Bobbit had a thing for John Bobbit. I like my penis, in tact. Thank you very much."

"Oh," she smiled and then nodded her head knowingly. "Oh! It's Dr. Cameron."

He shook his head and scratched at his beard. God, this was getting uncomfortable dredging up his past like it was dirty laundry. "No. Sorry. Wrong again."

"Really?" Now she was intrigued. "I would have thought for sure those were the only two women on the planet that would be able to put up with you."

"It's a big planet," he stated. "You'd be surprised."

"I'm sure," she conceded. "So what is this brave woman's name?"

House grimaced and took a sip of his coffee. He was briefly disgruntled that he was sitting here talking with the ex-love of his life as if they were old girlfriends just catching up on their latest gossip. It was weird, and strange, and he didn't quite know what to make of it.

"Come on, Greg," she cajoled. "We're two old friends passing time in an airport. Let bygones be bygones."

"Well, aren't you the mature, seasoned woman now," he griped. "You weren't so congenial the last time we spoke."

She narrowed her eyes at him and gave him a pointed stare. "I ruined my marriage because of you. Because you pursued me relentlessly and promised me things you could never give." She sighed unhappily and then raised her eyes to him. "Things were fine with Mark for a while, but he never could seem to get over the residual… presence… of you in our life. We tried counseling and books and all the things normal couples do when their relationship falls apart. But we just couldn't get back to where we were before he got sick. You know how that is better than anyone."

House looked at her sincerely. "I'm sorry, Stacey."

She blinked repeatedly at him, stunned into silence.

"I really am," he told her.

"Who are you?" she asked, still unsure about what he had said to her and his intentions behind it.

"I'm me. A lot has happened," he began. "But I'm still me."

She shook her head and wagged that stern finger at him that he used to hate with a passion. "No. Something has changed, something… tremendous."

He shrugged and then looked away. He didn't want to tell her about what happened. He didn't want her pity.

"You are different," she continued. "You're almost… compassionate."

He huffed disgruntledly and shook his head. Yeah, that was a dirty word. He had never been called compassionate.

"What happened to you?" she demanded, placing her hand on his arm over the back of his seat.

"Let's just say I gained some perspective and leave it at that," he replied.

"Are you ok? I mean really ok?" she asked, true and legitimate concern invading her voice.

"Yes." He nodded. "Just ducky."

Sitting back against the arm of her chair, she regarded him for a long while trying to ascertain whether she believed him or not.

He rolled his eyes. "Stacey, I'm fine. Really."

His phone vibrated against his hip and he welcomed the intrusion into the difficult conversation her was engaged in. Unclipping it from his belt, he looked at the caller ID and smiled. "Hello, Transvestite Sex Slaves Anonymous, how can I help you?"

"Yes, I seem to be having difficulty with my roommate leaving his porn in the DVD player," Wilson's irritated voice relayed from the other end of the line. "Any suggestions on how to alleviate this problem? My girlfriend was a little unnerved by the close-up of thrusting penises into strange and unique orifices."

"Ah, I see your dilemma, sir," House continued to play along. "First remove the disk from the player and then return it to the video store. Oh and while you're there, can you pick up Nymphs form the Planet of the Apes 16 for me, they left me so many unanswered questions in 15, I just can't move on."

He heard Stacey harrumph disgustedly behind him and Wilson echo her sentiment on the line.
"Sure thing, anything for you," he muttered sarcastically. "When does your flight arrive? And is Thirteen picking you up?"

"Yeah, she's got it covered," he told his friend. Looking over his shoulder at Stacey, she mouthed the question to see if he was talking to Wilson. Rolling his eyes he turned back to look out at the sea of stranded travelers. "You'll never guess who I ran into in the airport."

"The Dali Lama?" Wilson offered. "I heard he was making his rounds through New England medical conferences this month."

"No, asshole," House griped and then gave pause. "Stacey."

Wilson scoffed in disbelief. "For real?"

"Yes, for real." He slid his eyes to her. She was wiggling her fingers at him demanding that he give her the phone. "Apparently she wants to say 'hi'."

Shaking his head, he handed her the phone. "Your phone, Madame."

House listened to her speak with Wilson for a while as he contemplated the strangeness of the situation. This was a bizarre occurrence. Running into her here, rehashing old wounds and talking as friends after everything that had transpired between them. He hadn't seen her in little over four years. That was a long time. He supposed it was long enough for her to get over the hurt he had caused her. Not that he deserved any of it; he had pushed her out of his life twice. And nastily, too. He didn't deserve her forgiveness or her friendship. And he wondered why she was so willing to talk to him so extensively now. It most certainly didn't have to do with being bored and killing two hours worth of time until their plane took off.

Finishing her conversation with Wilson, she closed his phone and handed it back to him. "He sounds good."

"I told you, he is good," he rejoined. "Why are you here? Why are you talking to me?"

The look of surprise made him all the more curious. "Why not? It's been four years, Greg."

He gave her a pointed look, letting her know he was not convinced.

"I heard your voice and I said to myself 'Gosh, that sounds an awful lot like someone I used to know' and to my shock and amazement when I turned around it was you. After four years, I was interested. I wanted to see how you were, because you sounded… happy." She smiled that lovely sad little smile she used to give him when she pitied him and he wanted to hit her. But somewhere, it amused him, how quickly the memories could come flooding back. How quickly she could rile him up with just one look.

She checked the time on her gold watch and then looked up at him with expectant eyes. "Why don't we go grab some dinner and continue this talk?"

House glanced at her, questioningly. Now she wanted to have dinner? He checked his own watch and realized that he was hungry. He supposed sharing a meal wasn't that big of a deal. How bad could dinner be? "Sure. You're buying."

She laughed airily and stood, draping her coat over her arm. "I always did."

They found a table at a nice little restaurant where they served alcohol and real steaks. When the waiter came by, he ordered her a drink. "She'll have a vodka gimlet."

Stacey smiled. "You remembered."

"It's the only thing you drink at a bar," he said, as an aside.

"And for you sir?" the young server asked.

"A coke for me, thanks."

Stacey's eyes went wide. "No bourbon? No gin? No tall frosty beer?"

House pursed his lips together in a frown and stuck his hand out across the table to her. "Hi my name is Greg, and I'm an alcoholic."

She blinked at him in shock. It took her more than a few moments to recover. "Wow. I… Just wow…"

"That's what all the girls say," he jibed. "Oh come on, it's not like you didn't know before the infarction happened. It just escalated to Vicodin with the alcohol afterward."

"I can't believe it," she stammered. "It's truly amazing. I mean, I'm glad and proud of you." She chuckled at her blatant astonishment. "I seriously just can't believe it."

"One whole year yesterday," he admitted. "Well, there's been a few glasses of wine in between with dinner every once in a blue moon, but hard core clean and sober exactly one year ago."

"Good for you," she approved. "What changed? I mean, what happened to make you come to terms with that?"

House looked at her and bit the inside of his lip. He could hear Nolan's voice echo in his mind and knew that he had to push through, tell her the truth to find real closure with her. He had spent so much time discussing his failings when it came to her, now he was faced with the reality of her right in front of him. "I lost my mind," he paused. "I was institutionalized because I was hallucinating Wilson's dead girlfriend and a fellow who had killed himself just weeks before."

She gasped at the news and covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh Greg…"

He shook his head to dissuade her from giving him sympathy. "It had been a long time coming. After the bus accident with Amber… that was her name, I had a severe head injury and was in a coma. I lost my dad a few months later."

"I'm so sorry," she empathized.

"I was held at gun point by a crazed patient and almost lost… one of my doctors. Cuddy adopted a baby…"

Her face softened into genuine happiness for her old friend. "That's wonderful."

"Yeah, I was a dick," he confessed. She rolled her eyes, not really surprised.

"And then another one of my team shot himself in the head," he told her bluntly. "No rhyme, no reason. Just out of the blue." He waited for her reaction but she seemed to be just passively listening. He went on, "I couldn't sleep for days. A week later I started to hallucinate Amber. I thought it was great for a while because she tapped into the part of my brain that only I really understand." He laughed ruefully thinking back on it as he explained it to her. "Finally some one else understood the way I thought. Only it wasn't real. It was all just an illusion. When I realized it wasn't a tumor, a brain injury, or something else, I was left with two choices, schizophrenia or Vicodin addiction. I admitted myself into a psychiatric hospital for three months where they detoxed me and I started therapy. Yesterday marked the one year anniversary of being admitted."

"Oh Greg, that's awful," she said resting her hand on his, clutching his fingers against hers. Her touch burned him and he wanted to pull his hand away but he couldn't. Something kept his fingers there underneath her palm, as if they were always supposed to be linked, connected in this way.

Forcing himself, he tugged his hand back to his side of the table and looked away from her. "Remy's her name. She works for me. Right from the start, we had a…"

"Thing," she laughed, finishing his thought. "You always did fall in love really fast."

"Yeah, who knew…" he shrugged. "She um… completes me." He scoffed at his own sappiness and rolled his eyes. "God, I sound like a damn cheesy date movie."

"No, don't say that," she smiled. "It's really nice to hear you talk like that. It's good to hear you happy after all that you been through. Do you have a picture of her?"

"Yeah," he answered, taking his cell phone off of his belt clip. Finding one that was appropriate enough to show her, he turned the phone in her direction.

She grabbed the edge and then tugged on it. "I don't have my glasses, I need it closer." Reluctantly, he relinquished the phone to her to let her inspect his newest love. She leveled a saucily look at him, with a teasing twinkle in her eye. "She's very beautiful." The twinkle sparkled brighter. "And very young."

"Yeah, yeah, shut up," he grumbled taking his phone back.

Laughing, she took out her own phone and searched for a photo of her own to show him. "Since were sharing, I have some news for you," she said handing him her phone. "This is my daughter Ariana."

House almost fell out of his chair. "You have a daughter?"

"Yes, she's three…" she looked him, "… and a half."

House narrowed his eyes and stared at the beautiful little girl in his hand. She had her mother's rich dark hair and beaming smile. It was an iPhone like Remy's so he zoomed in on the picture. His mouth opened and he looked up at Stacey. His heart had just stopped.

"She has blue eyes," he said. It was almost a whisper. There wasn't much that made him speechless, but this had nearly knocked the wind right out of his sails.

"Oh get over yourself, Greg." Stacey barked at him and then laughed haughtily. "She's not yours."

He cleared his throat and the asked when he finally found his voice. "Are you sure?" Three and a half years old. The last time he saw her was over four years ago. He wasn't wrong in thinking…

"Yes," she answered, taking her phone back. "Mark's mother has blue eyes and so does my father."

Rolling his eyes at his own stupidity, he did recall that. "Recessive blue on both parents sides can result in a blue-eyed child."

"Yes, doctor," she said. Closing her purse, she hung it on the back of the chair. "She's the light of my life."

"Wow," he exclaimed, still bemused by the news. "I never realized you wanted kids."

Stacey grinned at him and then laughed that sad laugh at him again. "You never wanted kids, Greg. I did."

"But we talked… you said…" he was confused. Had she kept that from him all that time?

"I know what I said," she replied. "I loved you and was willing to sacrifice to be with you. But after I married Mark," she shrugged and then got a wistful look in her eye. "I don't know, it just seemed like a possibility again. When the time was right."

"After you went back to him," he finished for her.

"Yeah. We started over. We moved back home. He was doing his therapy. We became a couple again. I never stopped loving him, just like I never stopped loving you…"

Remy paced the waiting area for what seemed like the twentieth time. It was late and she was tired. She'd hit traffic on the Turnpike so she was a little irritable. She just wanted to see him, give him a big hug and get home.

When she finally saw him limp through the gate, her heart sped up. God, she really missed him. Painfully so.

He limped over to her and she could tell his leg was stiff from being seated in one position for so long. He was exhausted and in pain and he telegraphed it with the dark scowl on his face. Damn it, he was cranky.

He finally reached her and she didn't care how tired he was. Throwing her arms around his neck, she squeezed him tightly, kissing him gently letting him know just how much she missed him.

He smiled briefly and curled his hand around her waist. He hugged her back and pressed a little kiss to her forehead as he closed his eyes and sighed, breathing in the scent of her hair like he always did. Remy smiled, enjoying the feel of his arms around her and the strange combination of his regular smell mingled with that of the stale air from the plane. He was home and she was glad.

Sensing the presence of someone watching them, Remy pulled away from him and looked quizzically over her shoulder before bringing her eyes back to his. She was confused and more than a little perturbed with who she saw standing next to him.

Remy watched him close his eyes in resignation and take a fortifying breath. There was no doubt he knew she had recognized Stacey from the picture in his desk.

"Remy, this is Stacey," he introduced.

Despite her best efforts, her eyes got wide and her mouth dropped open in shock when she heard the name pass his lips. Quickly however, she pasted a mask of politeness onto her face to cover up her wariness of the situation. She felt his fingers tense against her back and she knew immediately that he was uncomfortable with the awkward setting.

Keeping her arm wrapped around him to childishly mark her territory, Remy extended her other hand in greeting. "Hi, nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Stacey acknowledged. Her voice was thick, sultry, with a faint tinge of a Southern accent. Of course it was sexy. "Greg and I wound up on the same flight from Boston and had some time to catch up with one another."

"I see," Remy nodded. "How nice for you." Shit, she hoped that didn't sound as bitchy as it felt coming out of her mouth.

Stacey grinned, flashing her dark eyes between both 'Greg' and her. God, she was really beautiful after a long delay and then two-hour flight at nine-thirty at night. How fucking perfectly coiffed she was… not an eye bag or saddle bag in sight. Remy wiped at her own eyes knowing full well her eye bags had fifty-pound luggage in them.

"Well, it's late," the woman began, after waiting them both out. "We both have an hour's drive in opposite directions to get home and I, for one, cannot wait to walk through the door and give my little girl a kiss." She extended her hand out again to Remy. "It was really nice to meet you." Turning, she gave House a kiss on the cheek that lingered a little too long for Remy's liking and whispered something personal into his ear. Pulling back, she smiled warmly and then said, "It was so good to see you again. Take care, both of you."

House's fingers slipped from Remy's back as he watched the woman walk away tugging her carryon behind her like all the other business travelers around them. She felt a sharp pierce of jealousy invade her heart and she was loathe to admit just how much the look on his face made her want to cut that bitch's eyes out. Wow, she needed to get control of herself.

"Well, that was… unexpected." She murmured without looking at him.

"You have no idea."