As the team headed out of the conference room to go do testing on their new case - interesting but not critical - House went into his office. He ran a hand down his leg as he sat down, and he pulled out his pain diary, taking a moment to read back over it after he jotted down his current level. 4 ½. He knew, of course, better than any written record could tell him that the methadone was an improvement over the Vicodin, but he still marveled at that fact sometimes. Experiencing something for himself was so far beyond just reading the medical details and effects of a drug. He very rarely got over a 5 these days, almost always tied to some specific trigger either meteorological, work-related, or emotional stress adding physical tension. On his current regimen, the pain was usually kept between 3 and 4. At the moment, given this last weekend and the situation with Cuddy, it was slightly higher, but even so, this was better.

So many lonely, pain-filled years of history, but things were better now. That fact still amazed him.

The pain had definitely made it over 5 several times back on Thursday and Friday, when he was dealing with the immediate impact of Cuddy's accident and her surgery, but he had carefully noted that event next to the readings. No doubt MacDonald would accept that explanation the next time House called him, which would be Wednesday. At this point, he was only physically seeing the pain management specialist once a month, but he had to call in every other week, and MacDonald always wanted him to read the pain diary entries since the last call. It still annoyed House a little to be kept on such a tight rein by another doctor, but he had to admit that MacDonald's suggestions and program were helping. The man was good, even if he did insist on treating House as any other patient.

House closed and pocketed the diary, then called Cuddy. She answered promptly. "Hello, Greg."

"How's it going?"

"Pretty well. I'm catching up on paperwork. That at least I can do while sitting here. Every single time getting up takes planning, even if I'm just going to the bathroom. This is annoying."

House could identify with that all too well. "I know. But it will get better."

"Yes. Wish we had a time machine or something. How's your day so far?"

"We got an interesting case from the ER log. He's not in danger of dying, but he's definitely got more than what the other medical idiot thought. The team is off running tests." He paused, eyeing the next step in his agenda. "I was about to call Stacy."

"Good idea to go ahead and get her scheduled. I'm impressed that she's left you alone since Thursday."

"She doesn't have my current cell phone number."

"She could have left you a message at the hospital, though. Or did she?"

"Nope, not a peep." House was impressed at that, too. Patience was not usually one of Stacy's attributes, and she clearly had been on a mission Thursday when she spotted him in the lobby. On the other hand, she was aware now of Cuddy's accident. "Well, I'll call her and let her stop waiting. Or at least let her start waiting for Saturday instead of waiting for any response."

"Okay."

"And later on at lunch time, I'll get us something from the cafeteria and bring it to your office."

"I'd like that." He knew that walking around her hospital on crutches bothered Cuddy. The less of it the better at the moment, until more of her annoyance with herself had settled down and her mastery of the aids had improved. "See you then, Greg. I love you."

"I love you. Bye." He hung up, gave his leg a quick rub again between the TENS pads surrounding the scar, and then picked up his desk phone.

Stacy answered promptly. "Greg. Thanks for calling." The relief was clear in her voice.

"I said I would. Once things were more stable at the moment, at least."

"How's Cuddy doing?"

"She's going to be all right. She had surgery Friday morning, and she's spent this weekend working on mobility with the crutches. She's back at work today, just desk work, of course. In a couple of months, this will all be behind her."

"Good. What did she do, anyway? Did she slip on the ice? Thursday was awful weather."

House sorted through the overtones on that. Stacy wasn't uninterested in Cuddy, but she also was stalling a bit herself, he thought. Whatever she wanted to discuss, she knew that first, they weren't about to have it out in full in this phone call, and second, she was on edge about it herself. Whatever that undefined topic was, it was a large one. His mind tried to kick into differential again: Time for more curry? No, not likely, and his attitude Thursday should have let her know beyond any shadow of a doubt that that wasn't going to happen. Wanting to discuss his past and why he had never shared it with her? That was what he was most afraid of, but he still wasn't sure that fit the facts completely. Why wait two months after the Christmas card, which had been the catalyst potentially opening the past for discussion, before she approached him? Or was it -

"Greg." Her voice was sharp enough to get his attention but also amused. "You zoned out on me."

"Sorry." Yes, getting lost in thought had been a lifelong habit of his, well predating his leg, and Stacy had encountered it many times. "About Cuddy, she fell on the stairs in the lobby."

"Probably going too fast and thinking about several things on her agenda." Stacy had her own observations of Cuddy, too, from past days at the hospital.

"Yes." House tackled the main subject here. "About talking some time, I was thinking maybe Saturday. There would be more privacy then, and this week is still going to be pretty busy in between."

"That's fine," Stacy agreed. "At your office?"

"Yes. Let's aim for 2:00. The morning belongs to the girls; Rachel has a riding lesson, and they always visit Ember - that's the old man's horse. But we usually can get them down for a nap in the afternoon, although it's getting a little harder at times. They should be nice and worn out after a Saturday morning, though, and he can stay with Cuddy right then while I slip out for an hour or so just in case anything came up where she needed help."

Stacy was silent for a moment. "Did you have something else Saturday afternoon?" he asked.

"No. I just - no, 2:00 is fine. I'll see you then. Thanks, Greg."

"See you then," he repeated. Even after hanging up, he sat there studying the phone. What was going on?

Finally, with a sigh, he stood back up and returned to the conference room to work on more-typical differentials.