House had never been so happy to see his scars while getting dressed. He was smiling as he grabbed his cane and limped out of the bedroom. He stopped, sighing at the eighteen stairs that stood between him and breakfast. He looked into the guest bedroom for a moment, but then huffed a sigh and began to descend. He'd have to go down sooner or later...
He looked at Cuddy and grimaced as he came limping down. "Maybe we should live at my place after the wedding. Or get a Stairlift."
She stared at him for a moment, finally stammering, "I'm so sorry."
"Or get a place with no stairs at all," he continued, like she hadn't apologized. "But no matter where we live, the question remains; whose furniture do we sell?"
"Well, my furniture was not a gift from an ex-girlfriend."
House stepped off onto the level and limped into the living room.
"You know, maybe we should talk about our honeymoon."
"Pick a place. You know what I like. I have to pee and I'd like a coffee. The great circle of life," he grumbled, as he went into the bathroom. Cuddy smiled and went into the kitchen to make the coffee; and as she did, she came to a rapid conclusion that had her smiling by the time House came out. "'Kay, you wanted to talk? Listening is really more my forte. Well, that and not listening."
"And apparently talking!" she said, watching him pour himself a cup. "I think I know the right place for us."
"You do? That was fast."
"Mont Saint-Michel."
House hesitated long enough to smile at her and say, "Ah, I remember that name." But as he carried the coffee to the kitchen island, his smile was long gone. That place had water...where people could drown. And she would be wearing a veil...He knew it was just a stupid dream, but it still sent a shiver down his spine.
"Good morning," Rachel said, as she came down the stairs. "Mr. House? You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
At their very serious expressions, her eyebrows went up. "What?"
"I'm fine," he growled, and lifted the cup.
"Okay. Geez! Look at that rock!" Rachel swept around the island counter and lifted her mother's hand. Then dropped it, as fear flashed through her eyes. "Uh, who's the lucky guy?"
"It's House."
Rachel nodded slowly, once. "Oh. Congratulations. You mind telling me how you met?"
"We met in college," Cuddy said.
"You could have mentioned him to me. Once. I'm not that busy." Rachel sat beside House, looking at him in curiosity. "So...what is it you do, Mr. House?"
He looked grumpily at her. "Hard time, mostly."
Rachel stared at him, struggling to find the correct response. She looked at the kitchen island instead, still stuttering quietly and finally saying to her mother, "I'm, uh, going to move onto campus. Not kidding."
She left hastily and House sipped his coffee under the scrutiny of his future bride.
After the women had left, House sat on the couch, watching TV; and he came across the pirate cartoon he had shown Rachel in her youth. As he sat there wondering if she remembered the show, or seeing him slick with his own blood; his thoughts turned back to his own apartment, filled with possessions that he hadn't had to buy. And as he pondered the reality of whose things would end up sold, he slowly lifted the remote and clicked the TV off. It would be his. Stacy had touched them, and they weren't exactly as nice as Cuddy's things. Their tastes went in the opposite direction.
But it wasn't like he had already grown attached to the replacements. Except for the musical instruments. Those, he wanted to keep. He could use them. He could carry them himself. House got up and grabbed his keychain; on which was a copy to Cuddy's house, his own house key, and the key to his bike. Taking nothing else with him, he let himself out, got on his bike and rode to his old apartment. He needed to think.
Entering the apartment, he shut the door and reached for the light switch. But it wouldn't turn on. He limped further inside and reached for another light switch. Same thing. Lifting his blazing eyes, he startled when he realized that all the sockets were empty. Shaking his head, he went to the windows and opened all the curtains, and that's when he realized that his cutlery drawer was open. Intrigued, he limped into the kitchen to see why. The knives, forks and spoons had all been turned to face the wrong way.
He slammed the drawer shut and limped through the apartment as quickly as he was able, looking for other acts of mischief. And he found that all of his right shoes were missing and the toilet had been baby-proofed. He stood in the bathroom eyeing his toothpaste. It had been moved. He uncapped it and squirted a generous line onto a square of paper towel. The smell reminded him instantly of...of...arts and crafts. He disposed of the toothpaste and the sample, wandering into his bedroom. And almost slipped, on the layer of feathers that had been dumped on his floor and bed. He could see more poking out of the dresser drawers.
House limped into the living room and stopped, looking around the apartment. All at once, he heard his computer come to life. He turned to face it, watching the password enter itself. Then Skype began to ring.
It took him a moment to regain composure, but he limped to the computer and accepted the call. And Chase smiled at him. "This," he greeted him, "Is for the B&E. I waited a long time for this."
"How did you...do that?"
Chase shrugged. "I know a guy."
"A hacker?"
"I have friends in low places, House. You're living proof of that."
Then Chase closed off the window, leaving House alone with his thoughts.