But several things had changed about him. Very subtle changes, but still changes nonetheless, and Cuddy believed she knew why.
He wasn't thinking about Stacy.
Ever since he announced the 'separation' and set himself free of the one thing that consumed him more than the constant pain, his depression and anger had leveled off. Cuddy couldn't remember the last time he spoke her name. He didn't go through an entire bottle of scotch in two days anymore.
Insomnia still had a grip on him, but that wasn't about Stacy. Sometimes insomnia was just insomnia.
The rough edges of Greg House had softened a bit. If Cuddy was the only one who could see that, it was fine and dandy. At least somebody could.
No word on the 'divorce' yet. She didn't ask. He'd tell her when it went through.
He was in his usual spot on the couch, spinning his cane in lazy circles.
"Stop pouting," Cuddy called from the kitchen.
"I'm not," he grumbled, then put his feet on the table just to needle her.
"You're pouting."
"I'm not."
Some things never change.
Reappearing, she said, "You're being childish." In each hand was a steaming mug of coffee.
"No," House answered as he took a mug, then scowled as she kicked his feet to the floor. "I'm being separated from one person who gives a damn."
"What about Wilson?"
"I'm not sleeping in his bed. He's still married."
"Greg, you weren't invited and you wouldn't go if you were."
"Is that supposed to make it all better?" His fear of abandonment was making another grand appearance. "Why couldn't this cousin of yours just elope to Vegas?"
"Never in a million years," his lover chuckled. "She's had her wedding colors picked out since she was ten years old."
"Hmph...one of those...," House muttered, his voice turning into a low growl. "She's going to eat her husband alive. Watch out, Hawaii."
"She's a librarian and her husband-to-be is a teacher."
"It's always the quiet ones you have to worry about."
"Your coffee's getting cold," she pointed out, trying to change the subject.
"Vegas, baby...," he grunted and chugged half the mug.
She didn't have to ask but did anyway. "Are you staying over tonight?"
"Damn right I am. I'm going to give you a reason to miss me in Des Plains."
The alarm wasn't set to go off for another half hour. She let House sleep, never disturbing what little sleep he got unless she absolutely had to.
In the dull morning light filtering in through the curtains Lisa Cuddy could see the jagged scar on Gregory House's right thigh and the concave shape where a muscle used to be.
He still didn't like her seeing it and was always pulling and tugging at the blankets to keep it covered up. She had given up trying to convince him that it didn't bother her. There were more important things to worry about.
The scar was a good eight inches long, running down the center of his thigh. It was crooked and ugly. She could care less.
And yet she had put it there.
For reasons Cuddy couldn't possibly fathom he had never mentioned that fact.
If he wasn't going to bring it up then neither was she, and kicked the thought out of her head.
Destination Des Plains was only a few hours away. She looked at her sleeping lover, for the moment not agitated at the thought of her leaving, and carefully brushed away some hair from his closed eyes. His abandonment issues had probably been with him for nearly as long as the scar on his leg, just as deep and twice as jagged. There was no need to say who put it there. It was something that couldn't be given back in the 'divorce'.
Stacy was gone, yet still there. She was still in his life and he didn't seem to realize it.
He was going to have to confront this. He was going to have to think about Stacy again.
Really? Did he have to? Would it be worth it if he did?
She lightly tugged at the sheet, covering his scar.
Fifteen more minutes. She let him sleep.
