October 20th

"Doctor Gardener?"

Dana didn't look up from her notes. "Yes, Alex?"

"Um . . . Doctor Wilson is here to see you."

She straightened and gave her assistant a level stare. He held her gaze, his own concerned, a bit hesitant. "Send him in," she said after a few moments. "And bring coffee for two if you would, please."

James was ushered in and the door closed behind him. He looked much as Alex had, though his trepidation was more obvious.

"Please have a seat." Dana kept her tone pleasant, but James flinched all the same. He chose the chair to her left and sat down.

"Thanks for seeing me." He sounded a little tired. Dana refused to let her heart warm to him. She couldn't help but like James; he was a man who used charm to manipulate those around him, but in this case she knew he felt genuine worry. Still, it was best to hold him at arm's length, so to speak.

"Of course. What can I do for you?"

Any answer James might have made was interrupted by Alex's return. He set a tray on the desk and left as silently as he'd entered, but not without a quick glance before he shut the door. Dana gave him a slight nod, and he left without comment.

"Good assistants are hard to find." James watched as Dana poured coffee.

"Indeed they are." She offered him a cup. "Now, how may I help you?"

He held his cup but didn't drink. "All business. I can't blame you for that." He paused. "House is home now. In fact he's been back for over a month. I know you know that, you paid his hospital bill." Dana sipped her coffee and waited. "He's . . . he's being stubborn. I don't think . . . he won't call you first."

"I see." She set her cup on its saucer. "If that's all you came to tell me, you've wasted a trip."

"So you've decided to be stubborn too." James glared at her. "This is getting both of you nowhere."

"If that's how you wish to view things, you're free to do so." Dana fought the urge to raise her voice.

"You're supposed to love him. How can you allow him to be alone after what's happened?"

"The way Greg and I manage our relationship is none of your business." She kept her tone cool, detached. "If you don't mind, I have an appointment—"

"It is my business. I'm his best friend, god help me, and I'm watching him crawl back into the same hole he's lived in for years because he thinks you've walked away!" James placed his untouched coffee on the desk and stood. "Fine. Keep the moral high ground if it makes you feel superior. But you're hurting him to save your pride."

"No I am not." Anger stung her into a reply. "As I've said before, Greg knows my number. He also knows where I live. I don't expect—" She stopped as pain took her breath for a moment. "I don't expect an apology, but he must make the first move." She set her coffee aside. "That's all I have to say. You may tell him if you wish, it makes no difference to me either way."

James stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. Maybe I have. She almost smiled.

"You said he has to make the first move. So this is therapy-related, not—not just one-upmanship."

Dana said nothing. James held her gaze for a few moments before he looked away.

"You know this is dangerous," he said at last. "House can out-stubborn anyone. I've seen him do it."

"Then that's what he'll do. It's up to him."

It wasn't until much later, when she'd ended her day and gone upstairs, that Dana allowed herself to go over the conversation. As she picked at a salad, she wondered if Greg had sent James over to sound her out somehow. It seemed unlikely, but the possibility was there. No doubt he had relayed her comments to Greg when she'd left the hospital after . . . after.

I don't know if the course I've chosen is the right one. She pushed away the salad and rested her head on her hand as she stared at the tablecloth. I need help.

It didn't take her long to reach Doctor Marchal. "I'm at our summer place." He chuckled. "For some reason Addie wanted to come down, so here we are. You're lucky to get this call through, the weather's terrible."

"Better not tell the tourism board, the Cote d'Azur is always sunny." She switched to French. "Alain, could we schedule an appointment when you come back? I need a listening ear, and yours is the best."

"My goodness, a compliment! Now I'm obligated." He was silent a moment. "It must be important if you're calling. Usually you leave a message with the answering service."

"It is important, yes." She tried to keep her tone impassive.

"Well, no time like the present, as long as the wireless holds out." Alain sounded cheerful. "Tell me what's going on, little mouse."

Dana smiled a bit at his use of her old nickname. "All right. This . . . this might take some time."

"Take all the time you need."

She managed to get the whole story out, though it was difficult. When she fell silent, Alain spoke. The humor was gone from his voice; he sounded both concerned and comforting.

"What is this man like? I know his name but we've never met."

Dana sighed softly. "Complicated."

Alain snorted. "Huh. I can't imagine you with anyone who wouldn't be the human equivalent of a Gordian knot. You always did enjoy a challenge."

She knew he was right. "Still looking for my father, no doubt."

"Perhaps this is more about your mother instead. Your father was a musician, and everything he did and said pertained to that one note, so to speak. Gabrielle was far more complex. Her husband needed that quality in her, though he'd never say so."

"Maybe I've taken on more than I can handle."

Alain laughed softly. "I doubt it. You have excellent judgment. Tell me about Doctor House."

"He's not a good man in the conventional sense of the phrase," Dana said after a time. "But he is a man of truth and his own sort of honor, and he loves without reserve when he does open up. He respects honesty, even if it's brutal. He doesn't spare the people around him, but he's even harder on himself. And he has trust issues that run deep." She sighed again. "Years ago he was badly wounded by a decision someone close to him made out of love. This current situation is very much like that earlier one."

"And despite the problem at hand, you enjoy all that intensity."

"Yes, I do—did . . ." A sudden rush of emotion crowded in on her, closed her throat.

"And now you're in what feels like an impossible situation." She heard the creak of Alain's chair and knew he leaned back, a habit with him when he was intrigued in the subject. "Both of you are pigheaded, it seems."

"I have never denied my stubborn streak," Dana admitted with what dignity she could muster.

"You may acknowledge the truth all you like, and still here you are."

"Yes." She swiped at a tear on her cheek, angry at her inability to control her feelings even while she knew it was a good sign. "Alain, am I doing the right thing? Should I go to him?"

"Now, no cheating. You know you must ask yourself that question. I can't answer it." He paused. "You also know this may be too much to ask of him. He sounds like a man who values rational thought above all else, and yet he must still be swamped with conflicting emotions."

"Yes. I'm sure that's why he hasn't contacted me." She stared at the skyline beyond the terrace windows. "His best friend came to me today. He accused me of choosing the moral high ground over my love for Greg."

"Do you think that's true?"

"I don't know what to think." She swallowed hard. "Alain, it's been over three months since—since we saw each other."

"Are you pregnant?" Alain chuckled at her derisory snort. "I had to ask."

"Oaf." She smiled a little though. "So you won't give me an easy out."

"Of course not. But I do believe you're capable of finding the right answer. You have a strong intuition and a good heart, little mouse. While you're concentrating on trust, remember to trust yourself too."

They ended the call on a mutual agreement to have dinner at his apartment in Manhattan. "If you're free for New Year's you'd be most welcome. Addie and I would love to see you, it's been far too long."

She sat on the terrace for a long time afterward, and listened to rain rattle against the windows. She wondered what Greg was doing, and how his healing had progressed. When tears fell she let them, and knew many more would follow.

'I Can't Stand the Rain,' Ann Peebles