Author's Note: So, I changed chapter 7, because when I reread it and thought about where this story is going in my mind, all I could think was: SOAP OPERA and MELODRAMA. So, I'm trying to avoid that. I also must thank ACMD for telling me about Cameron's "fetus is life" thing. That kind of bothers me because I like to stay in established canon. Thus, a revised chappy 7. Sorry to confuse everybody.

Clouds keep moving to uncover the sea

Stars above us chasing the day away

To find the stories that we sometimes need

Listen close enough all else fades

Fades away

--Jack Johnson, "Constellations"

I sit on the toilet in the patient's bathroom, peeing. A small smile forms on my lips when I am finally relieved. I've been holding this in all day and I am simply happy, for I have not wet my pants.

As I pull up my trousers, I hear a soft whimpering from the stall next to me. I flinch at the soft sounds. These past three months have been filled with tearful nights spent alone at home, while Mark recovers here. I miss Greg, I truly do. I miss everything we had and everything that could have been. When he was alive there were possibilities. But now—now that's he's been in the ground for three months, those possibilities are also gone.

I look at the stall next to me when I exit my own stall. I feel bad for the woman inside—sadness is a terrible feeling, but there's nothing I can do. Grief, I find, is best dealt with when one is alone. I sigh, and turn to wash my hands, but something catches my eyes as I start to move—these shoes are familiar.

They're familiar because I see them at least twice a week. They're pretty and I've commented on them several times because of their practicality. These tweed ballet flats are perfect for her—youthful and sexy without being skanky.

"Dr. Cameron? Are you okay? It's Stacy," I tell her as I knock on the door.

"Oh, Jesus," I can hear her murmur and the door half-heartedly swings open to reveal a bit of a bedraggled Allison Cameron sitting on the floor.

"Allison? Are you okay?"

She contemplates her answer for a moment before looking me in the eye.

"You're a lawyer. You know about client-attorney privilege?" She asks.

"Of course."

"Then I'm not okay."

The significance of her question and then her response to my question escapes me, but I know it they mean something.

"What's wrong then?"

"Attorney-client privilege?"

So that's what she wants. She wants complete confidentiality for something.

"Yes. But would you like to move to my office? It's much more comfortable than in here."

"No…it'll be okay in here."

She feels safe, I reason, because it is 9:30 p.m. and not many patients are typically around at this time to wander into the bathroom.

"What's wrong?" I am tempted to add the word "dear" to the question because my mothering instincts kick in, but I do not.

I watch Cameron take a deep breath and think about these last few months. Greg's death, her supposed relationship with James, James' divorce, threats of firing from Lisa…apparently it has all been too much for this poor girl.

"I…I'm…" her voice trails off and she looks up at the sky. It is a darkly comic scene, I think, somewhere between melodrama and grief does this moment reside. She turns back toward me.

"I'm pregnant."

I steel my eyes and my body.

"Are you sure?"

"Three months. I went to the obstetrician today to make sure. Three months," she leans forward and whispers vehemently.

"Does he know?" I ask. James has to know.

"No. No, and he never will!" I watch her battle her tears.

"But you must tell him. He'll hear…he will," I promise.

She laughs bitterly and suddenly it clicks.

"You're not thinking of getting an abortion are you?"

Another laugh leaves her mouth and she drags herself off the floor. I can't help but wonder about the affect of grief on people. This woman in front of me has gone from a relatively sweet—if cloying and clingy—pretty good doctor to a venomous, emotional disaster. It makes sense if she says she's pregnant, but I can't help but feel that Greg's death is also still hanging over her head.

"Thank you for your time, counsel, but I'll be leaving now."

I watch her strut out of the bathroom. Greg used to strut like that.

My game plan forms in my head. I wash my hands and then push open the door. I head in the direction of James Wilson's office. He and I need to talk. I know all about attorney-client privilege and the confidentiality that goes along with it. But Cameron never signed any papers and she never paid me for my time. Loopholes are what I do for a living.

I enter James' office and find that he is sitting, looking over various charts. He spends his time here in the office. Lisa and I worry about him over coffee and tennis matches—James cannot become Greg.

"I didn't know that screwing Allison Cameron gave you a right not to use condoms."

"Why does everyone in this hospital think I'm screwing her?"

"Because she just told me she's pregnant!"

"She told you?" He looks up from his papers to look at me.

"Well, under attorney-client privilege. But you know already! She told me she wasn't going to tell you—ever!"

"Hysterics make you look older, Stace. Remember what House used to say?"

I grimace.

"Not now. Is this why Julie up and left on you?"

"Julie up and left on me because she's neurotic and paranoid."

"James, c'mon."

"C'mon what? Why can't you and Lisa leave her alone?"

I step closer to his desk.

"But," he hits the desk with the back of his pen, "why can't you leave me alone?"

I turn around and start towards the door. I open the door gently. I face him.

"Because we don't want you to become Greg."

""""""

When I walk into Lisa's office I immediately become a traitor. I know it and she can sense this, too.

"Lisa,"

"Stacy," she murmurs from her position on the couch where she is laying. She has an arm thrust over her eyes.

"Cameron's pregnant," I tell her.

She sighs, but doesn't remove her arm.

"I had a feeling."

"Are you okay?"

She removes her arm.

"Do you realize Greg's more of a pain-in-the-ass in the afterlife than he was when he was alive?"

"What the hell, Lisa?"

"You don't see him?"

"Ghosts?"

"He's mocking you right now."

"Lisa?"

"Please, Stacy. Not right now."

"Have you seen a psychologist?"

She laughs bitterly and I figure leaving the room now would be a good choice.

As I exit I hear her call to me in the hallway

"He says he loves you!"

It's as I stand in the hallway, with the doorway to her office shut when the tears starting to fall down my face.

"She's nuts and he's lying," I murmur to the hallway.

"If Cuddy loses her mind, then we're all bloody lost," a voice whispers from the darkness.

"Dr. Chase?"

"Yeah, you okay?"

"Terrific. You?"

"Caffeinated," he replies happily.

"You know where they keep the good stuff?"

"I have friends," he smiles.

"Fantastic," I tell him and follow as he walks down the hall.

After Cameron's pregnancy admission, James' bitterness, and Lisa's…craziness, I need some damn strong coffee to clear my head.