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 Eight

Written by Magdala

Editor/Beta Taruia

PART EIGHT

I didn't realize how tired, or how hungry, I was until I sat down in the restaurant. The two doctors decided I needed steak, and even though the filet could have easily been cut with a butter knife, it hurt to chew. My companions were concerned by my discomfort, but assured me it was normal after the hit Mark had delivered.

I was happy to not have to make any effort in the conversation. It was high-level doctor stuff, and I only became involved when they discussed Greg's pain management. Both agreed he needed a 'holiday from pain,' and felt they might be able to achieve it if he was carefully monitored.

We didn't linger over lunch, despite the elegance of the surroundings, it was no more than an intake of fuel. Afterwards, the manager handed Wilson his car keys, and asked him to give Dr. House his regards and hopes for a quick recovery.

We went straight from the restaurant to the place I had rented in Princeton. Both of the doctors came in and waited in my living room for me to shower and change. I looked at the spreading bruise; there was nothing I could do hide it completely. Both men looked at me admiringly as joined them, ready to go back to the hospital.

"I couldn't cover the mark I look like a battered wife." The bruise on my cheek looked painful and angry.

"You are a battered wife," said Wilson and for the first time I realized it was true. I had covered up so often for Mark. Whenever he threw something I cleared it away, and when he hit me I put on more makeup or sunglasses. After every burst of violence the evidence was removed as though it hadn't happened.

I realized I had fallen into the trap. Early in my career I did some pro bono work, which often involved spousal abuse. I had noticed the problem then; the wife cleared away the mess her husband had made, and at the same time her memory was wiped clear. I won the cases for them when I stopped them from cleaning up.

"I don't want Greg to see this." God, the women I had helped made that sort of excuse to me, only with them it was 'the children mustn't see this.' I looked at Steigler. "You thought he shouldn't see it."

"That was before I knew what he had done to Greg," he answered.

"You can't lie to Greg," said Wilson. " Also, you'd better grab anything you value. Mark might get himself lawyered up, and this would be the first place he would come."

So they had been guarding me. I went into the bedroom, and packed a small case quickly then I went into the bathroom and cleared my toiletries and perfumes into an overnight bag. I rushed back into the bedroom, and did a last check of the cupboards and wardrobe. I was about to shut it when Wilson grabbed my thick winter coat.

"Ready?" he asked

"Ready," I said.

"Got everything you need for the next few days?"

"I've got everything I need. It doesn't matter if I never come back." Wilson smiled and then he kissed me oh so gently on my bruised cheek.

"Trying to kiss it better?" I asked.

"Well it's worth a try." He gave me that smile he often gave to Greg it was teasing, understanding, funny and slightly sad all at once.

"I wish I could kiss Greg better." I said.

"It's bound to help him, Stace," He picked up my case and we headed out of the door.

I looked at the house as we drove away, and knew at that moment my marriage was over. Wilson must have known it too because he took one hand off the steering wheel and placed it over mine.

Greg was still asleep, and Chase was with him watching and waiting.

"No problems. No pain either, he has been sleeping," the Australian reported.

"Were you able to get the bloods" asked Wilson.

"Yeah we're doing the whole shebang. They went to pathology an hour ago." Chase then noticed my cheek. "They told me he got you too."

"Everyone knows then?" Somehow I had it in my mind that no one would have noticed that Wilson was the only other person who really knew what had happened.

"He decked you in front of twenty-five people. You can't keep a lid on that." said Chase. "For what it's worth public opinion favors you and House getting together again. And so do I."

"Out" Wilson barked at Chase, who left grinning. I wasn't sure how I felt about everyone knowing, but it was good to know they thought Greg and I should be together. It was the first time I had dared to hope for such a thing. Greg had given me so many mixed messages and his behavior had seemed strange even childish towards Mark but now the reason was clear.

I loved Greg more than life itself, I wished so often it had been me who had the infarction and not Greg. I sat down and looked at Greg. Pain had etched lines into his face, and weight loss made his fine, soft skin seem almost loose; resting on the bone and cartilege of his face and skull. I loved his face. Asleep, he looked so peaceful, his large eyelids crinkled as his eyes moved below them.

I opened the gift wrapped box and took out the bottle. I put some of the after shave on my hands rubbed them together and stroked them over the stubble on his chin and neck. I left one hand against his cheek, feeling his unshaven jaw against my palm, and the smooth skin of his temple with it's soft regular beating pulse under my fingers. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to crawl onto the bed beside him, hold him, and nestle against him.

A nurse entered with a bed bath pack. "Oh sorry. I was about to wash him," she said.

"Go ahead," said Wilson. The nurse looked at me, unwilling to continue with me in the room. "It's alright."

Greg turned his head and kissed the palm of my hand, which was against his face. Then his eyes fluttered open.

"Stacy?" I had hated my name all my life until I met Greg. It had always seemed one of those rough hard edged names until Greg said it and then it was like a caress. I was amazed by the different emotions Greg could put into my name. This time there was just one and it was love.

"Right here Greg," he turned his head, and looked at me. His eyes fixed on my cheek, and he was suddenly, painfully, alert.

"What happened to you? Who did that to you?" His eyes filled with concern; the bruise appalled him.

"It was Mark. He got me too." Greg shut his eyes for a moment.

"Why did you say you'd slipped on the ice? He was waiting for you in the car park he attacked you. Why didn't you report him?" I asked.

Greg opened his extraordinary blue eyes and looked directly at me.

"Because he's your husband, and because I thought I had driven him to it. Oh God, Stacy, I never thought he would lash out at you. Does it hurt?"

"A bit," I admitted.

"I'm so sorry," his eyes were tearing.

"Pain?" asked Wilson.

"Don't worry about me, has anyone checked out Stacy?"

"I'm fine, Greg. Honestly. It's just a bruise and there's a small cut inside my mouth, but everything is fine." he reached out with both hands and pulled me to him enfolding me in his arms. He felt so wonderful; his body against mine.

"I don't think you should be moving like this," I said frightened he would harm himself or I would hurt him.

"It's okay darling. Microdiscectomy didn't change the mechanical structure of my lower spine. This time they had the good sense to bring in an artist, not a plumber to work on me."

I couldn't see him from where I was, but I knew Steigler would be smiling.

"Greg. You should know. I've left Mark." I said it simply. With no more emotion than a newsreader delivering a small item on the news of the hour because that was all it was to me.

"Really? You mean it?" Greg asked and I nodded. It was much more important to him.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked. "Is there anyway I can kiss you without hurting you." He urgently wanted to be even closer.

"If you are very, very careful," gently he put his lips to mine, but was careful not to open his mouth. Then he gently kissed the bruise, as Wilson had done, and then he just held me to him. I could feel his heart beating, and the air enter his lungs. It was followed by a shuddering intake of breath as he was hit by a sudden onslaught of pain. Dread flowed through me like a wave in the North Atlantic.

"Give Jim a number, Greg" I shivered fearing the answer.

I could feel the rumble of his voice.

"It's about an eight, Wilson"

"That's the breakthrough pain. That's not the spine." I heard Wilson reply.

"Yes," Greg answered.

Oh God.