A couple of people, correctly but post-emptively, commented that this story should be betaed despite the fact it was marked as FIRST DRAFT. I have now posted the corrected chapters of LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS.

I thank Taruia for so kindly offering to edit my work. You will see how much a good editor gives to a writer's work without imposing their own words or attitudes on the text. Taruia is a fine editor and she is also the person who provides us with those invaluable transcripts of HOUSE MD at http/malaquent. . I also thank MacNMolly for her invaluable information on microdiscectomy spine surgery.

This story is a continuation of my previous fic "Breakfast with an Orang Utan" therefore the characters behave in character with their shared experiences in that fiction as well as their shared experiences at PPTH as seen on HOUSE MD. All characters from the series HOUSE MD are the property of the producers.

LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS - Part Seven

Written by Magdala

Editor/Beta Taruia

PART SEVEN

This was the third time I had sat by his side in recovery, waiting for his eyes to open. Every time I had been frightened, and this was no different. The first time I was frightened for him because I didn't know if he would even survive the operation, let alone the pain that would follow. The second time I was frightened of him, and how he would react to what I had done by using the proxy.

And now five years later I was frightened for Greg, but I was also fearful of what Mark could do. If he could get to me and hit me in front of a group of strangers what was he capable of? What might he do to Greg? I was fitter and faster than Greg when he was well, but now he was helpless, and while Mark professed to love me, he openly loathed Greg.

I had iced my cheek, but it was puffing up. I had put makeup on, but the bruising was showing though. I sat on the side of Greg's bed, so when he woke he could see as much of my face as possible without seeing the damage. I had pulled my hair forward so it covered more of my face.

Dr. Steigler came though, still in his scrubs. He looked at me first holding my chin and lifting my hair. Obviously he had been told what had happened. "You sure can pick em. Mind you the bastard that did that makes House look like an absolute sweetheart," He put my hair back. "Try not to let him see that."

He went round the other side of the bed and turned his attention to Greg. He clicked his fingers near Greg's ear. "House wake up. House." He claps his hands. "House" ... nothing.

"Greg. Greg." I said, and his eyelids slowly opened about halfway and then closed again. "Greg, darling, please wake up."

His eyes opened slowly, he was dazed from the anesthetic, but he looked at me and squeezed my hand before drifting off again. His mouth was moving as though he was trying to talk.

"He wants water, he gets frantic when his mouth is dry. If I could just give him some ice?" I'd finally had to beg for ice after the second operation. This time I didn't even bother to ask I went directly to begging.

Steigler signaled to the nurse, who came back almost immediately with some ice in a saucer and a small cloth. I picked up the ice in the cloth and put it to Greg's lips. I gently rubbed the ice over his dry lips, and he opened his mouth as I let the final sliver of ice fall into his mouth. I picked up the next one with my fingers.

"They're clean I washed them carefully before coming in here." I explained to the surgeon who smiled back at me. I put the next piece of ice into Greg's mouth. Holding it between my first and second fingers I was able to guide it over his tongue and around his gums.

"Careful of your fingers, there might be a bit of residual pain and he could bite down." He said. I removed my hand, but I wasn't scared of Greg. I knew he would never hurt me physically.

Greg's eyes half opened, "Hey," he said like he has said so many times before,

"Hey," I answered.

Steigler checked Greg out; pulse and blood pressure, "How you feeling?"

"Okay" His voice was rough barely above a whisper.

"Any pain? The nerve roots had taken a battering." Steigler said gently. It was obvious this surgeon cared.

"I can manage," said Greg. Maybe he was not fully concious, trying to be brave for me, or just being stubborn. But Steigler would have none of it.

"You don't have to manage. You have pain you tell us. Understand?" This was so different that Greg, even foggy from the anesthetic, appreciated the difference.

"There's pain," he said with a slight grunt.

"Give me a number?"

"Six"

"Right, I'll give you something now, and then we will get you back to the room."

Greg looked at me. Careful to hide my bruises I couldn't look at him face on.

"Are you going to stay?" He asked cautiously, trying not to plead or sound desperate.

"If you want me to," I said with equal caution.

"What do you want?" he asked.

Steigler was injecting morphine via the cannula, and could not help overhearing.

"I want to stay," I said "You must know I want to stay."

"Everybody lies," he was testing me, it was light hearted but still a test.

"House that's crap and you know it," Steigler said matter-of-factly as he removed the empty syringe.

Greg smiled.

"Some people find repetition annoying." I purred matching his smile.

"I love you," he mumbled.

"You can repeat that as often as you like," but Greg did not hear, he was asleep.

Steigler addressed me.

"He'll probably sleep for about four hours," He looked at the clock on the wall. It showed about 11:30 am.

He guided me out of recovery to a corridor where Wilson was waiting. They nodded to each other, but Steigler kept talking to me.

"I'm guessing that by now you've had no sleep, missed about three meals, fallen in love again, been the victim of spousal abuse, tanked a marriage and about now you should be heading into fear of the future ... I think you need protein. Tell me the best restaurant in Princeton, and once I have proper clothes on I'll make Dr Wilson take us there."

"She doesn't know the best restaurant in Princeton but I am happy to take you both there. Go change, I need to look at her face." Wilson obviously liked Steigler as well as respecting him.

"Just remember it's not cancer, Jim. Pick your specialist, and you pick your illness." With that said, the micro surgeon headed off suddenly. I called after him.

"Hey. Do you play the piano?" I asked.

"Yes, but not as well as Greg." He answered.

I smiled.

"What was that about?" Wilson asked.

"His hands. They are like Greg's."

"Come over to the window. Let's have a look at that cheek. God Stacy. You're wearing more makeup than Dolly Parton." He said amused by the thickness of my makeup.

"I didn't want Greg to see it." I explained.

"Like he wouldn't notice you'd put your makeup on with a trowel." Wilson sat me down and held both of my hands and looked directly at me. I could see their was something terribly wrong."

"Stacy. Greg knows what your husband is capable of doing."

I looked at Wilson in horror.

"Greg didn't slip on ice yesterday morning, Stacy. Mark was waiting for him in the parking lot. Mark ran the chair into him like he tried to with you."

"My God, Jim. Is he mad?"

"No Stacy. I think he's just bad."

"So that was why ...?"

"Yup and we thought Greg was the crazy one."

Of course. Greg hadn't said anything, but it explained his snooping. Copying the clinical notes, attending the group therapy session. He'd even saved Steve McQueen from Mark. But he couldn't save himself.

"How did you find out?" I asked

"Mark told me. He was quite proud of it. He thought I would understand. Sociopaths have a tendency to think everything they do is justified." To Wilson Mark was no longer a person who should be helped but a dangerous psychopath and they are untreatable.

"After Foreman heard what had happened to you. He let me know Mark had said some rather crude things regarding you when House took over the questioning to check his memory." Said Wilson substantiating House's reasons for snooping. "Foreman thought House was at fault at the time but him hitting you made Foreman see it in a new light."

"Where is Mark now?" He was the last person I wanted to see and the last thing I wanted to cope with.

"You are exhausted you can't go near that man in this state." He said but I was worried and thought I should do something. Wilson must have read my mind.

"There is nothing you need to do now. I did a House. I dosed him. It's okay, he's safe, he's sleeping it off in psych awaiting assessment." Wilson could see this worried me. "Stacy I had to make sure he didn't have another go at House."

"What am I going to do?" The stress was getting to me. I was glad I didn't have to see him right away

"Cuddy's handling it, you don't have to do a thing. Stacy, your husband has attacked two valued members of the staff here, and caused serious injury to one of them. We have other lawyers and Cuddy is with them now."

"Does she need to see me?"

"No she needs you to be strong, and nutrition seems to be high on the list of essentials. After we see what's under that mask you are wearing."

Wilson took me into a consulting room in the clinic where he gloved up, washed the makeup off my face, and checked the damage. "Tender?" he asked touching it. He took a flashlight and looked inside my mouth, and up into my cheek. "You must have bled a fair bit into your mouth?"

"I think so, but I was on my way down to Greg." I said.

"Tissue's still in your purse?" He asked and I nodded, taking them out and putting them into his gloved hands.

He could see it had been pretty nasty. He took a look at the blood stained tissues and dropped them in the bin.

"No chilli for you at lunch, or lemon. Your teeth have cut up the inside of your mouth. Give them a wiggle will you. Make sure nothing's loose." I felt around carefully.

"No they're okay," I said with relief.

"This is just saline." He swabbed the interior of my mouth with saline. "You will have to keep this clean. I'll give you some saline solution to have with you. Just as well there was nothing broken you don't even need stitches. You were lucky."

He pulled off his rubber gloves and dumped them in the bin. Then he asked the key questions.

"What do you want to do Stacy?" He said.

"I don't know?" And the awful thing was I didn't know.

"Are you one of those women who believe that men like Mark can change?" he said without emotion.

"I don't want to see him ever again. I know I'll have to, but I don't want to. He was nothing like the Mark I met and married." I said.

"Maybe it was the first time you saw the real man," he said. "House is reckless but he brings out the truth in people."

"I won't hurt him again. I promise you that."

"You'd better not because there isn't going to be all that much time to fix things."

"You aren't saying."

"No I'm not saying he is dying, Stacy. But the facts are these. The infarct damn near destroyed him. It certainly aged him. He isn't young anymore. Chronic pain and the effort and posture involved in walking has put extra stress on his skeletal structures and his heart meaning he could suffer arthritis or bone damage, or a heart attack. The drugs he takes have put his kidneys and liver at risk." Listing the facts had brought Wilson close to tears for a moment he looked away from me and I was the one comforting him.

"Stacy unless he has a helluva lot of love and care, I don't know if he will ever see old age."

I don't think Wilson had really ever dared think that far ahead for Greg. He put his arms round me seemingly to give me the comfort I so desperately needed. But Jim needed my arms around him too. I could feel him shaking.

The prognosis for Greg was bad but there was something else too. Wilson knew it and I knew it. The break through pain. What was that coming from. Wilson and Cuddy together with the Greg's team were working on that but so far there were no answers.

I had been with Greg long enough to know how doctors compartmentalised their lives in some ways lawyers did too. I knew however deep Wilson emotions were at that moment they would be back under tight control before we sat down to lunch

Before heading out for lunch, I went and washed and reapplied my makeup. As we drove into Princeton, I asked Wilson to stop at the most distinguished men's store in town. I got back in the car with my one small bag. Wilson smiled and reached out an open hand to the micro surgeon in the back seat who put a fifty-dollar bill in his palm.

"After shave?" asked Wilson.

"Yes," I said. Wilson added the fifty to his billfold. "You two were betting on my shopping?"

"The same aftershave you gave him in Singapore?"

I pulled a sample of the fragrance on a paper swatch from my purse and handed it to Wilson.

"I knew you'd want to have a sniff."

"uuhm Nice. Is it French?"

Steigler reached for the swatch and looked blissful as he inhaled.

"Should have more of this sort of thing. I never seem to work on patients who smell good."

Wilson laughed for the second time that day, but this time he seemed happy.