AN: House is not mine. If he was...I won't even go there. It would be good. For me anyway. They belong to David Shore. He does an amazing job. I'm just a fan. This is my first attempt at a fanfic, please read and respond.

Last Chapter: "Don't be anal like your mommy. The world can't take another one of her." Cuddy rolled her eyes, used to the snide comments about her being pregnant. He turned to Wilson, spinning his cane between his fingers. "So, what are you lying to me about this time?"

"Nothing!" shouted Cuddy and Wilson. House raised his brow, clearly surprised by their reaction. It was then that the doors swung open, and in walked Stacy Warner.

House gripped his cane tightly, and strode to the exit without a word.

----

"Greg…wait…" Stacy pleaded, gripping his arm. He turned to face her, reading her pleading expression. A million thoughts raced through his mind at that very moment. Her eyes, close to tears, studied him, and he saw what he could only define as his reflection…with so much meaning behind them. He studied every inch of her face, he cheeks, her lips that had met his in Baltimore less than a year ago. She didn't look as bright as she did then, she looked as though she had been mourning for a long time. Guiltily he looked down and away from her. He was not ready for this again. He felt the stares of Cuddy and Wilson, but he did not let them read what he felt. He did not know himself what he felt, and that was nearly unheard of.

Stacy, suprising herself, was bold enough to stop him. She met his gaze, neither hard and cruel nor soft and comforting. Their perfect blue color was unreadable, and she was nervous to discover what in his mind he may be assessing. At the same time, she couldn't bring herself to look away from his brilliant blue eyes, his handsome features, his untamed hair, his unshaven face… he stirred up something inside her that she could not control, and it fluttered within her as he looked away. He could read her, but there was something he had found. Deep down Stacy knew that he could see her sadness, her need to see him, her desire to touch him. Realizing she still held his arm, she let go slowly, watching him as he watched the ground. "Greg…Greg its Mark. I don't know what's wrong with him. I didn't know what else to do…" She trailed off, hoping that he had something to say.

Cuddy shifted nervously at Wilson, who exchanged her gaze. They both studied House, waiting for a response to her feeble explanation.

"Fine," he stated calmly, and made his way to exit the office.

"Fine? That's all?" Stacy questioned, sounding panicked. She stood in front of him in attempt to block his exit.

House slid past her and pushed open the door, glancing at her as he stepped through it. "Yeah," he said simply in response to her question, and then he was gone.

----

Wilson pushed through the door that lead to the roof. He had little difficulty locating his friend, who sat on the brick wall by the door. He was staring off at the dusking sky, clearly pondering the recent encounter.

"She's not here because she want's to make you miserable. She's here because she needs you." Wilson left the statement open for House to interpret any way he wished, as most interpretations were true. She needed him to cure Mark, and she needed him because without him she was nothing.

"She didn't call."

"She was afraid you wouldn't take the case. She knows you. You nearly refused last time he was sick."

"There are other doctors."

"She trusts you."

House took a breath, gazing at the stars that were hazily beginning to appear. He turned to face Wilson, seeing his face full of concern. He didn't know what to think. Was he happy? Angry? Perhaps now all that he could express was confusion. He had spent so much time trying to heal, and old wounds were suddenly ripped open again. Old scars began to bleed.

"I know this is hard for you. It's harder for her. Please try and understand that. Think of someone else for once. Treat them like any of your other patients. Cure the guy, and they'll leave. There'll be as little pain involved as possible."

"Somehow I doubt that."

"How do you feel about it then?"

"I don't know…but there's a dying guy downstairs. Better get to it." Without another word he left, leaving Wilson behind him.

Wilson sighed, knowing that there was no way that this was going to be easy. He couldn't treat them like a regular patient, no matter how hard he tried. Stacy would not be able to keep from seeing him, she seemed to have little control of herself when she was around House. Perhaps this time things would go better. Somehow, Wilson did not feel confident that would be the case.

----

"So, does he plan to be a complete ass as usual? I assume being nice would be too hard for him to figure out." Mark laid in a hospital bed, clearly uninterested in being at Princeton-Plainsboro. "You told me I wouldn't have to see him!"

Stacy sighed, noticing that recently Mark's irritability had returned. She didn't know if it was a symptom, or if Mark was resentful of her for having to be here. "He is the only one I trust with your life."

"Who said my life was at stake? I needed a little rest from work and stress. I'll be fine. I don't need to be here with him again. I don't need you to be here with him again."

Deep down Stacy knew that he had a reason to be worried. He had almost lost her once, and now it seemed as though the vicious cycle continued. She bent down to kiss him on the cheek, and then sat on his bed and gazed at the newly lit stars. She knew Greg would see them too, she knew he was on the roof. This time she did not plan to follow, however. She needed to get Mark well, and then she needed to leave this place. Otherwise, who knew what trouble might arise?