8/23 update added below

A/N: Here's part of House's conversation with Stacy. You do get informed of what she wants to talk to House about, at least. Remember that I quit watching before the series was over, so if there happened to be any Stacy information in the last few seasons, I'm not aware of it. I tried to keep with details presented in the early seasons, but I don't remember that much background information being given on Stacy. Anyway, as always, artistic license applies in fanfiction. But for any fans of hers, she is not a wicked witch of the west, one-dimensional character in this series, either before now or in this story. House has said to Jensen several times that they had many good times together before the infarction. I strongly suggest that you read the Stacy section of the last chapter of Pain along with this chapter. That one was directly setting the stage for this plot line on this story.

Down to real life, the family murder case is finally recently concluded after three years and four months of wading through the justice system. The arrest was within a few weeks; this entire period has consisted of legal maneuvering on the part of the defense. With no more delay straws left to grasp as we approached the trial date set for July, the killer finally gave up on methods of dodging and turned to making a deal. He has pled guilty to murder and waived his right to a trial in exchange for a lesser sentence; he's up for 30 years instead of life, which is what he was looking at. Not all of the family is satisfied with this deal, but this is how the system works. Basically, it's taking a sure thing now instead of throwing it into the hands of a jury, and as the prosecutor told us, even with a good case, you never can be 100% sure what a jury is going to do. They can make some interesting decisions sometimes, such as with the OJ case. And another very strong point, as I see it, is that there will be no appeals. If the killer had gone to trial and been found guilty, that wouldn't have ended it. People can appeal forever these days; some people in prison have been doing it for over a decade. This way, by bargaining, there will be no appeals, and he has already officially pled guilty and agreed to that. The next step is prison, and 30 years is not just a slap on the wrist. Anyway, the case is now final legally, and he officially did it, of which there never has been any doubt in our minds based on his behavior afterwards. We still don't know all the details of why (they were good friends), but we do know who, and he will serve a lot of years in prison for it.

Work is still crazy, with many of the people we do have either sick or on vacation. I had today off totally, first day not working at all in many months. My next day not working will be 8/1, my birthday, when I'll drive several hundred miles to visit Dad, who isn't up to driving to visit me due to his stage IV cancer. And that's a whole other plot in the story of life at the moment. But if I'm not too tired and wrung out by that evening when I get back home, I'll try to get you an update then, if not before. Hopefully before, though.

Hope you enjoy the first part of this conversation.

8/23 - Brief update. Well, obviously, I didn't get a chapter done on 8/1. I just didn't have the energy that night after I got home. Dad enjoyed the visit, but there were definite signs that I saw (and stepmother discussed privately later) that things are ramping up. We don't think he is aware of them, but we're afraid things are accelerating again. This has continued since then, some texts from her which she said she would delete immediately after sending in case he gets her phone. I'm going to wedge another visit to them on 9/3, have something else scheduled that day which will take me only an hour away, and that's too close to miss the opportunity. Anyway, things aren't going that well with him, although he is not hospitalized at the moment. But he's declining.

Work has also been nuts with vacation coverage. I hope to get the next chapter up before my 9/3 trip, but if I don't, it will come when it comes. Real life takes precedence. But rest assured, the story WILL be completed.

(H/C)

Stacy was prompt to the minute Saturday afternoon, as expected. What House hadn't expected was that she hesitated just for a moment in the open office door before coming on in, probably a subconscious pause; it wasn't extended enough to be intentional. He closed the door, which had been open to that point, giving them some privacy, but he did not draw the blinds, and that action, subconscious on his own part, didn't hit him fully until a few seconds later. This was to be a private conversation but not a hidden one.

He sat down at his desk and faced her, the smooth expanse between them, then took a moment to look her over. She looked beautiful as ever, her dark hair not yet showing any trace of gray. Or was it? When the silver threads did start creeping in, she most likely would color them. But no, she wasn't that old yet, younger than he was. She looked tense herself about the coming conversation, and her fingernails were rather short for her. They didn't look jaggedly chewed, but they looked like they might have been smoothed off after being jaggedly chewed. There was also a whiff of cigarette smoke; she was smoking again, which had always been a sign of stress with her. But for all the tension, which only someone who knew her well would have spotted, there was resolve along with it. This was Stacy on a mission, with a purpose. He still wondered what it was. Well, he shouldn't be left in differential much longer on that.

She was studying him as openly as he was her. He gave her a half smile, a question along with a greeting, and that seemed to break the silence. "You're looking good, Greg," she said.

"So are you," he replied.

"How's Cuddy doing with her broken leg?"

"Ankle." He couldn't resist refining that medical diagnosis. "It's the medial malleolus. She's doing fine, improving on the crutches, and the pain is a lot less now."

Stacy nodded. "I'm sure she's not improving fast enough to suit her on the crutches. Somehow, I can't picture Cuddy on crutches."

"Neither can she. You're right, she's pretty impatient. But all this is temporary. She's going to be fine with a little time."

"Good."

"How's Mark?" he asked, turning her inquiry around.

The pause first was brief but obvious. "He's fine. He's really made a remarkable recovery physically. He might be a little careful of his balance at times, but I'm not sure if that's reality or just memory. He's very careful on stairs, for instance. But he's pretty much back to himself medically."

"Being careful on stairs isn't a bad thing," he replied, though he noticed that her report on Mark was limited entirely to the medical.

"No, it isn't," Stacy agreed. She then made the first tentative opening probe into whatever the meat of this conversation was going to be. "I got your Christmas card."

He tensed up sharply. "Good. Nice to know the post office is still managing to deliver things correctly, at least part of the time." He did not want to discuss in detail that card. He had meant what he'd said, but that didn't mean he cared to expand it from three words in a Christmas card into a full multi-course conversational meal.

She noted his reaction, of course, and to his relief, she didn't prolong that topic. "I just wanted to tell you thanks. That meant a lot to me." She then tilted her head slightly, a gesture that meant she was about to change topics.

Relieved and grateful at her brevity there, he replied, "You're welcome." Then he waited for whatever the next topic would be.

Stacy hesitated for another few seconds, then shifted gears. "I also saw all that from the media back at the time of the trial of Patrick Chandler."

The whole area of his past had been another of House's guesses for what she wanted to talk about. He didn't want to hash that out anymore than he wanted an in-depth discussion of forgiveness about his leg, the infarction, and her authorization of the surgery. "Most of the world did, unfortunately."

She met his eyes. "I can't believe I never knew after five years together. I even met him, saw you together, and -"

House played a card from his Jensen sessions, one that he was still learning how to use. "I don't want to discuss my past," he said.

She was startled at the flat-out, direct statement instead of an evasion or an argument. "I just - okay. But I'm s -" She stopped and visibly edited herself. "I apologize that I didn't work it out myself. But I wish you'd told me." Like you told Cuddy. The silent conclusion of that thought was so clear in her expression that he all but heard it spoken.

He relented enough to provide her with one piece of explanation. He really did not want to hurt her, after all, and she had given him several good memories. "Stacy, I never told anybody at all voluntarily up until after Cuddy found out. It wasn't that I decided up front to confide in her instead of you."

She relaxed a little on that announcement, though her mind grasped the word. "Voluntarily. How do you tell somebody a lifelong secret involuntarily?"

"I don't want to discuss my past," he repeated firmly.

As Jensen had noted yesterday in the session, Stacy did recognize brick walls. She might resent them, but she did recognize them. She shifted topics again. "I figured that. Actually, even though I can't help thinking about it, that's not the main reason I wanted to talk to you, Greg."

Curiosity surged back to the forefront immediately. "So, what is that reason?"

She half lifted a hand, then looked at it as if startled to not find the wished-for cigarette there. "There were a few other things that I learned at the trial. Not about your past; don't worry. But you and Cuddy being together." She smiled. "That one didn't surprise me at all. I always thought you two had potential if you ever got down to admitting it. What's it been for you, three, four years now?"

"Four," he said, but his mind was galloping down new differential paths. She wanted to talk about Cuddy? Not as a rival, not hoping to get him back - or at least knowing she wouldn't get him back, but simply talking about his new life? That definitely beat either discussing his leg and forgiveness or dissecting his past, but he was still confused.

"And you mentioned your daughters at the trial. Especially the one, the preemie, whose birthday was the day before that you took on the case of that boy who died. How's she doing?"

He couldn't help his posture softening as he talked about his girls, even while still wondering at this line of conversation. "She's fine. She really had a rocky start medically, but she's doing great now, even finally starting to hit a growth spurt. We don't think she'll be stunted from being so premature."

"Good. And what about the other one - is it just two? You were saying girls the other day on the phone. Rachel, I think you said."

"Just two," he agreed. "Rachel turned four in December, and Abby was three in October." He saw Stacy do the mental math based on his previous statement of his relationship, and he clarified, "Rachel is adopted. We have to remind ourselves of that now; she's such a neat character. She's a live wire. She's also the horse fanatic. All animals, really, but horses especially. Abby likes animals, but what she's most into is music. She's already taking piano lessons from me."

Stacy was watching him with an odd intentness. "They sound wonderful. And you've got Thornton obviously in the picture, too." She visibly if regretfully tossed aside several questions on the forbidden topic of the past there related to the old man and returned to the present. "It seems like you've got a good family life now."

"Yes, I do." That was easy enough to confirm, but he was still puzzled. "Stacy, why did you want to talk to me? Not to discuss the past, you said. I doubt it's just to hear me talk about my family, either."

"No, it's not." She once again half lifted the nonexistent cigarette to her mouth, and then her hand dropped back and he saw her steel herself for the plunge. "Greg, there's one thing in particular that Mark and I haven't been successful with."

Abruptly, the epiphany came, startling him by the answer. "You want a child?" She had never mentioned wanting children in their five years together, although he had to admit that he himself had been so vehemently against the idea back then, given his own family history, that he hadn't left much room for any discussion of it.

She met his eyes squarely. "Yes. I want a child."