Disclaimer: If I owned them, Stacy would still be on the show snogging House's face off. They belong to David Shore and his minions, the cruel geniuses.

Second task: make up for the sin of wearing a Motley Crue t-shirt by putting something decent on the stereo. She paused when she came to the CD rack. He hadn't thrown out her collection. It was one of the few things she had forgotten to take with her when she left. She fully expected it to be gone. Her CDs didn't even have a collection of dust on them. It pained her to think of what that meant. It meant he had to have been reminded of her every time he played them. Greg loved his classic rock, but she had introduced him to the quiet, soothing tones of alternative. Grant Lee Buffalo. Perfect. She had bought Mighty Joe Moon because of the song "Honey Don't Think". The first time she had put it on Greg had been so obsessed with "Happiness" he hadn't let her get to track 11; he just kept hitting repeat every time she wasn't looking. He made up for it later figuring out how to play "Honey Don't Think" on the piano. The song wasn't written for piano, but it had never and will never sound better than it did coming from Greg's skilled fingers stroking the keys of his Steinway Grand.

The third task is the hardest of all. Make a decision. Greg likes to think while sitting down; she likes to wander. She walks around the apartment for a minute or two longer, it's cluttered but still far too big for one person.

The piano is the biggest piece of furniture in the place. The dark oak instrument with its ivory keys is the centerpiece of his living room; it's impossible to miss. She sits down and tries to recall a simple melody but her thoughts only turn to her memories of Greg sitting at the piano.

Often times he'd simply lay his head down on the wood while his fingers glided across the keys. He'd be so deep in thought that his fingers would stop, completely unaware that the mind they belonged to still sung a tune. She's observed him in that deeply pensive state many times; it's one of the countless reasons she finds him so attractive. He's never really still. His hands are always in motion. For Valentine's Day one year she bought him two balls. They're easier to take to his office where there's no piano to coax a tune out of. One was the cheesy fortune-teller type made to look like an 8 ball. The other was a gray and red over-sized tennis-ball.

"Two big balls? Are you trying to tell me something here?" he said when he opened the package.

At this she laughed and said "Never could accept a gift, could you? The world isn't out to get you Greg. They're for you to play with when there's not something better for you to put your hands on."

"Something better for me to put my hands on… I thought that was why your office was just down the hall. If I had known we were going to give meaningful gifts that were really some sort of sex code I would have made you some copies of my Bay Watch tapes. Carm"

"--- If you bring up Carmen Electra you won't get your real present tonight."

Greg promptly shut-up at that statement, pulled out her present and tossed it at her while mumbling something like "When did women get so empowered?"

Her gift was a certificate for free piano lessons every other day at 7:00 PM with "Dr. Gregory Von Beevenhousen". She laughed at the ridiculous name. He could be so cheesy sometimes. Apparently he had noticed the way she openly stared every time he came within two feet of the piano.

She only ended up getting four or five lessons before the infarction. It had been too long since she'd played. Grant Lee Buffalo has long since run its course. She thinks the whole world must be silent for it to sound so peacefully quiet. Inside her head it's a different story.