Alone Again Or

It had been easy enough to avoid her. The hospital is a big place and paths don't intersect by chance. Before she had forced herself upon his notice, House had gotten to the point where he rarely thought about Stacy Warner. Not that he thought of her by that name. Her married name. She had the other name before, her name.

House didn't know this new Stacy. If he were being honest with himself, he didn't know the old one either. It was a typical love affair. Each hoping that the other would live up to the other's expectations. Disappointing all around. For too long he had attached undue importance to it.

He stood on the roof looking over the grounds of the hospital, the university and the town, all spreading out like the lawn at a country club. As summer dusk darkened, lights blinked on randomly.

Allison had been bringing things over to his house…their house…for the past week. Books, clothes, dishes, all the odds and ends that made up her life. Some things she elected to get rid of. An old sofa, a beat-up Ikea coffee table, things that could easily be replaced if… He didn't want to think about it. It was comforting seeing her things in his space.

The biggest surprise was a Himalayan cat named Roman. He was enormously fluffy and had the markings of a blue point Siamese. Luckily he didn't have the tendency to scream like a Siamese, so once he was introduced to his new surroundings he hunkered down in his favorite spot, under the bed, and only came out to eat and for his nightly brushing.

For weeks House had known that he wanted to have with Allison what he couldn't have with Stacy. He agonized over what was wrong with his previous relationship so that he could avoid the same issues in his new relationship.

He breathed in the thick, humid night air and waited for her to show up. He heard the door from the stairwell creak open and she stood in a suit and heels. "Sorry, my conference call ran late." She walked over and gave him a quick air kiss.

"Thanks for coming." He said simply.

"So what did you want to ask me?" Stacy smiled and leaned against the wall.

"You know that Allison Cameron and I…" He made a motion with his hand.

She nodded, "Yes. I heard." She concentrated on his face, watching there what he wasn't saying.

"Somewhere along the line, what once was good with us went wrong. What was it?" He asked; his voice flat and emotionless.

"Oh. An autopsy." She walked to the other side of the roof, her hair blowing in the soft summer wind.

"Exactly." He confirmed.

"Since when are you so introspective?" She turned towards him.

"I've avoided it for years. You know, wearing black, smoking clove cigarettes, listening to The Cure. But I'm trying it out. What do you think?" Flippant, his comfort zone.

"Much better. Might do you some good. Greg, I told you that you were…are The One for me." Stacy turned something on, it was seductive; she radiated a vibration that always made him pay attention.

He ignored it; it wasn't what he wanted. "Right, and yet, I'm all wrong for you. So when in the arc of our relationship did you figure that out?"

"I think that it was about six months after I left." She said quietly.

"I left." He corrected.

She smiled ruefully, "Interesting. Okay, have it your way; you left. I was sitting in my living room, eating ice cream and watching something interesting on television. I realized that I was more peaceful and happier than I had been in all the years I was with you."

"How much of that was relief?"

She inhaled deeply and fixed him with a stare, "So much."

"Oh."

"But not for the reason you think. Yes, you were miserable and cranky and oh, so very angry with me. But that's not what was hard. What was hard was that at a time when I should have been the one to comfort you, you were looking for comfort someplace else." Her face darkened with the memory of such an unhappy time.

"There was never anyone but you." He admitted, afraid to look into her eyes.

"It wasn't me that you needed. You needed your work." She forced him to look at her.

"I needed you." He confessed.

"You thought you did. I was just one of the things that occupied your time between cases. Greg, I don't know what's changed in the past six years, it might have been a lot. I suspect it's not very much. You are a man who lives to work. And that's fine, but I need more than that. I owe you, in a way, because you taught me that." She lifted her leg and rotated her ankle. Her feet ached after a long day in heels.

"You're the same way. You didn't even have a honeymoon after your wedding." He pointed out.

"That's why we stayed together so long, we're exactly the same. Boy, what a revelation that was when I figured it out."

"So why didn't we work?" He implored her with his eyes to solve what was mysterious to him.

"The things that made us strong were our weaknesses." She pronounced.

"That's profound." He mocked, "Get that out of a book?"

"No. Think about it. You work too much, I work too much; we had each other only in our quiet times. Even then we were always looking for something to do. Run, golf, eat, fuck. We weren't quiet together. We were quiet apart." She stole a look at her watch. She was going to be late for dinner.

"So I'm not the only one thinking about this?" He ignored the silent cue to leave.

"When Mark and I started going out I thought about it a lot. In many ways he can't hold a candle to you. In the end though, he fits me better. He fills up my empty spaces." It sounded lame, even as she said it.

"But you love him?" He asked, knowing it was none of his business.

"Yes. In a way that works for me, I do." She said.

"He loves you more." House stated, understanding for the first time what she wanted.

"Yes." It was a challenge and an accusation.

"Ah." The light-bulb went off over his head. "Go ahead; I've kept you long enough." He dismissed her, in more than one way. "Thanks." He said as she walked away.

House remained on the roof for a while longer, enjoying the cool breeze as it became dark. He walked towards the door. It was time to go home and feed the cat.

Cameron sat on the sofa reading when he arrived home. It was easier to stay with him, now that most of her things were there. "So how did it go? Did you get what you needed?" Her glasses slid down to the edge of her nose. She pushed them up as she got up to kiss him.

"It went well. No blood was shed. No tears either." He followed her into the kitchen to pour himself a drink. He had his hand on the neck of the bottle when he realized that he didn't want it. He put it back in the cupboard.

"Have you eaten?" He asked.

"No. I waited for you." She said with her head in the fridge. "Unless you want lettuce with a side of lemon, I think we need to go out."

"But we have cat food, right?" He forgot to go to the market.

"Yes, cat food and toilet paper. The necessities." She smiled, "Chinese? Pizza? Burger?"

"Burger. You want to drive-through?" He hugged her from behind and nuzzled her neck.

She looked down at her shorts and tank top. "Yeah, that way I don't have to change."

They ended up at Stewart's a relic from the '50's. They sat in the car and ate, enjoying the old music. Kids came up and asked about the car and House pleasantly told them anything they wanted to know about it.

He took the long way home with the top down. When they got back Roman had splayed across the couch, directly on top of the newspapers House had left there that morning. "I think he wants you." He said.

Cameron got his brush, grabbed his hind leg and dragged him across the leather sofa. "Come here fuzzy, time for a little brushee." She started in on his grooming.

House took out a few sheets of music and started playing. Classical, just to keep in practice. Soon he was deeply into it, oblivious.

Cameron smiled, classical wasn't really her thing, but it was no skin off of her nose either. After a half-hour or so, the cat was finished and she got up to clean the brush. She picked up her book where she had left off. Soon House was finished with his piece and he turned to her.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt." He started.

She put her book down, "Hmm?"

"How did you feel when I played that?" He asked; he had an odd look on his face.

She bit her bottom lip, "How did I feel?" She feared that he was asking her opinion of the music itself; she hadn't been paying attention.

"Yes. Were you lonely?"

"Lonely? No. Are we talking about music?" She tilted her head and stared at him with her big, green eyes.

"No. Yes. Among other things." He selected a new piece of music and put it up on the rack.

"You know I prefer other kinds of music, but I don't hate classical. You weren't playing it for my amusement; you were playing it for your own. Right?" She didn't know where this was going.

"I was. Does it bother you?"

"What's this about? I kind of figured that a man who has a grand piano was more than into music. I also figured that if you were the kind of guy who had a grand piano, that you probably liked classical music." She got up and rubbed his shoulders.

He turned to look up at her. "One of the things that Stacy said about our relationship was that she felt lonely. Do you feel lonely when we're together?" The shocking blue of his eyes bore through her.

"No. I feel comfortable. You're right here, how could I be lonely?" She paused, "I am at a really good part of my book, do you mind?" She again pushed her glasses up.

"You need to get those tightened." He turned back around and played Begin the Beguine. Roman pawed at his new hiding place on a large throw pillow behind an easy chair and had a nap.