LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS - Part 14

With thanks to Benj and Soaranteagle, cutterdog, Astras 2003, sasmom, hughfangirl333, Master of Hugh, Auditrix, Armchair Elvis and all those who wrote in the Episode 2.13 Spoilers Thread on Devoted to Hugh and Why Vicodin thread on House Fans.

PART FOURTEEN - FIRST DRAFT

"The Mystery of Pain"

by Emily Dickinson

Pain has an Element of Blank-

It cannot recollect

When it begun-or if there were

A day when it was not.

It has no future but itself,

Its infinite realms contain

Its past, enlightened to perceive

New periods of pain.

Over the next four days so much seemed to happen and so little. Although he slept much of the time Greg and his pain were the center of everything. With the spinal surgery, followed immediately by losing a quarter his stomach to the perforated peptic ulcer, coupled with the chronic pain from his leg, he was terribly ill and fighting on too many fronts. Tink astonished me with her wisdom and her understanding. I loved Greg more than life itself but it was Tink who asked him the question I should have asked five years ago and the question Cuddy and Wilson should have asked then and anytime in the intervening years.

"Tell me about your pain, Greg?" She asked.

"You want a number? They all want numbers." He said.

"No I don't want a number. Some people give their pain a name." Tink took his hand.

"Like some people name their dicks?"

Tink laughed but said nothing. Greg realized he could not avoid answering.

"No I don't give it a name. It's too damn close to refer to it in the third person."

It was the first time he had spoken about the way it felt from a dull persistent ache to the point where it was as brutal as some torturer ripping the thigh open with bare hands, tearing at the truncated muscle, dragging the nerves apart.

"It frightens me, Tinkerbell. It bloody terrifies me."

Then he told her about the bet with Cuddy what it was like without Vicodin. Tink was appalled when he told her how he smashed his hand. She listened carefully without commenting as he told her how Wilson had reacted then and when the week was over.

"There is a clear difference between withdrawal and detoxing." Said Tink.

"I know. I know," said Greg, exhausted by the conversation. "but the distinction is blurred in the land of the free."

"Have you got pain?" asked Tink.

"A bit, a six." He closed his eyes.

Tink buzzed for a nurse. Then asked the woman to page Dr Wilson or Dr Cuddy.

"Stomach, back or leg, Greg?"

"Stomach."

Tink worked on calming and relaxing Greg until Wilson entered.

"Six" said Tink.

"Stomach?" asked Wilson.

Tink nodded and Wilson handed her a lollipop. Tink handed it back to him shaking her head. I watched as Wilson drew up a drug, which I assumed was morphine, into a syringe and injected it via cannula.

"How has he been?" asked Wilson.

"He just told me about the bet with Dr Cuddy." She said. And I saw Wilson's discomfort at the memory.

"It was my fault not Cuddy's" he said. Greg opened his eyes and looked directly at Wilson.

"Of course it was," said Greg. "Just like it was your idea to ask if I had learnt anything?"

"It was," Wilson answered "And you admitted you were an addict."

"You had already decided that. Nothing I could have said would have changed your mind. So I told you exactly what you wanted to hear."

I could see Wilson knew that was true. But Greg wanted to let his friend off the hook

"Everybody lies, Jimmy. How many times do I have to tell you."

Julian Campbell, Tink's husband arrived from New York later that afternoon and Joe Steigler left. Julian was horrified to see the bruise, which I had quite forgotten, so evident on my face. After a quick visit with Greg, Julian joined Tink and myself in my office. Julian waved Greg's keys in front of Tinks face.

"Greg says we can use his flat his car and his piano," he said "but I think it's best if we stayed on at your hotel at least for tonight."

"Steve McQueen" I said "Oh my God I've forgotten Steve McQueen."

"No that's okay. Apparently Dr Cameron's taken him in."

"Who is Steve McQueen?" Asked Tink.

"He's a rat ... a pet rat." I explained. Tink and Julian seemed unfazed by the idea of a pet rat but Julian's jaw dropped when he saw Greg's car.

The shiny red 1965 Corvette convertible looked like a huge colorful toy in the middle of the gray concrete parking lot. The machine confronting him astonished Julian who was used to the fine coachwork of British motoring.

"Bit loud isn't it? It looks like a bloody mouth organ."

"Take no notice of Julian he becomes embarrassingly pompous and British after a couple of weeks in America" said Tink.

"The car is Greg's his pride and joy. It was a gift from a mob boss." I explained and they both laughed.

"He still has the capacity to surprise," said Julian. "Do you have a car here?"

"That dull looking rental over there." I said pointing it out. "Would you prefer we went in my car?"

"If you don't mind. I understand we are all at the same hotel." Said Julian. Obviously Steigler had told him how I had been warned not to go back to my apartment and had checked into the hotel for safety.

"We need to go to Greg's flat, sorry I mean apartment, first," said Tink she explained to her husband "Giving you his keys was the same as giving me permission to go through his apartment and check for drugs."

"Good God," said Julian "This is like stepping through the looking glass."

Obviously Greg's cleaner had been in. The place looked extraordinarily tidy but the essence of Greg was everywhere especially around the piano. I showed Tink around pointing out the bedroom and the bathroom. Then I heard a few notes coming from the piano.

Then the Carousel Waltz swelled and filled the apartment. I remembered being in Greg's arms as we danced on the verandah of the Noel Coward Suite at Raffles. I remember how handsome he looked in his white tuxedo and handtied bowtie and I remember the swirl of the beautiful black evening dress he had Tink buy for me before my arrival in Singapore. I recalled how his body moved with the rhythm of the amazing waltz and how he lead me through the intricate gliding steps. He was so sure-footed and so strong and all of that had happened half a world away and could never happen again.

I walked blindly back into the sitting room and sat down. I was crying. Julian must have noticed because he segued from the Carousel Waltz into something that seemed like Bach. Then he got up from the piano, closed it and crossing the room sat down beside me.

"You've been through hell haven't you, Stacy."

"Greg's been through worse."

"You haven't merely been an observer. You have suffered too."

I just sobbed,

"I am so glad you and Tink are here, Julian."

"Stacy, we would have been here five years ago if we had known."