Chapter 17

Stacy was cranky.

They were having breakfast in her kitchen. Or rather, House was having breakfast, and she was typing furiously on her laptop. She only interrupted her work to occasionally drink from her coffee mug and take a spoonful of something that looked deceptively like what you'd find at the bottom of a compost bin but what she insisted were overnight oats. House wondered if Wilson knew about this. It looked right up his alley. He had decided to start the day properly and made himself a decent breakfast with eggs, toast and some crispy bacon.

They were on their own because Mark had already gone to school.

"He's gone to work," Stacy never tired of correcting him.

"Well, he works in a school, so technically, he's still going to school."

She wasn't up to an argument, not even a fun one, and just ignored him while she continued her preparation. Apparently, one of her cases had turned out to be a lot more complicated than anyone had predicted.

Anyone who didn't know her well would have thought this was the cause for her crankiness.

House knew better.

It was the morning of his departure, and he was sure Stacy's mood had at least a little to do with him set to leave that afternoon. Work never made her cranky. She got stressed, yes. But when that happened she had the habit of narrowing her focus to the problem at hand and completely ignoring any potential distraction until the stressful situation was resolved. She only got cranky and pissy when emotions were involved.

Stacy barely looked up from her work, and House didn't like being unable to see her face - not when it was unlikely he would see her again anytime soon. She was probably at least a little pleased to see the back of him. For House, the last week had been fun at times, and he was sure he wasn't the only one who felt like that. Despite the niggling little part of his brain which kept asking how she could settle for someone as boring as Mark, he was actually glad to see her happy. And yet. Except for the days he had been to see Lorimer and the DA, they had spent almost a week in each other's company, and it had felt good. Best to put an end to it now, though. Jokes and innuendos were all well and good but they both knew where it would inevitably lead. They had been there before, and House wasn't willing to revisit that particular part of his past. According to what she had told him when he arrived, Stacy didn't want to either.

He remembered Lorimer's elegant office and his expensive clothes and wondered, not for the first time, what it was that Stacy had on him. So far she had remained close-lipped.

"Well, at least Lorimer should be happy this morning," he ventured.

"I'm not sure if he is ever happy." She didn't even look up from her screen.

"Why?"

She sighed and finally closed her laptop.

"Lorimer is a creep."

"Why?"

"What are you, five? He just is."

"That's only half a degree up from because, and you know it," he taunted. "You just need to stamp your foot to complete the picture."

Stacy finally laughed and got up to pour herself fresh coffee.

House decided to dig a little deeper. "Is this what you've got on him? That he's a creep? How far up the creep scale are we talking?"

She sat back down and eyed him over the rim of her mug. "I'm not telling you, so stop digging."

"If you're not telling me, and he took me on when you told him to, it must be really bad. I'm guessing felony bad."

He expected her expression to give her away. People's tells usually don't change over time unless they have reason to work on them and change them. But she continued to look calm and relaxed, and a little amused. Interesting.

"How can you square that with your conscience? A creep is free to continue doing creepy things?"

Stacy had that little smile on her face that told him she didn't want to break into a laugh. She shrugged. "Who said he's free to continue being a creep? Maybe someone made sure his wife also knows the extent of his creepiness and…"

"… and since his wife is the one with the money, his creepiness is therefore contained." House grinned. "I'm impressed. You know, and his wife knows. That's like leg irons for the guy; he can't step out of line. No wonder he looks so pissed all the time."

House saw that little triumphant gleam in her eyes, the one she got when she won an argument or a case. The one that made her extra spunky.

Stacy was in the middle of a pretend bow accepting his praise when her cell phone beeped.

She read the message and sighed.

"Mark will have to drive you to the airport."

Apparently, his face hadn't expressed enough excitement at the prospect of spending a couple of hours in the car with her husband because she continued, "I've got an afternoon meeting. Mark can drive you. He can leave early, I can't."

"You don't trust yourself around me."

She just looked at him, a little smile playing in the left corner of her mouth.

"Fact," he said.

Stacy shook her head. "Could be another fact altogether. Could be that I trust you with Mark. Have you considered the possibility?"

He hadn't. It was possible, he guessed. After her initial freak-out in the car just after his arrival, she had appeared quite relaxed when he and Mark were in the same room. But there was still a residual tension between them; a tension he remembered well and didn't entirely dislike. He guessed she didn't either. Which was part of her problem.

She was probably right. They were both right.

"Everything is possible in some universe somewhere," he finally conceded.

She got ready to leave. Before heading out the door, she stepped up to him and put her hands on his arms. They looked at each other for a moment, neither of them ready to say what needed to be said.

Finally, he gently raised her chin up and kissed her. They lingered longer than they should have. In the end, she was the one to break the kiss.

"Safe travels, Greg. Be well."

She took her bag and left.

She didn't look back.

House stood motionless in the middle of her warm and bright kitchen. He closed his eyes and savored the kiss he had not quite stolen but initiated. She had tasted of coffee, apricot and honey.

After a while, he went to his room to pack his bag.


The drive to the airport with Mark wasn't as bad as House had expected it to be. Mark didn't seem all that put out that he had to make the trip. And if he was, he didn't show it.

"Did she lie to me?" Mark didn't take his eyes off the road. He was a good driver.

House hesitated for a moment but then realized he had nothing to lose by being honest. He was leaving. "Of course she can lie; she's a lawyer."

"Interesting choice of words. And not really an answer to my question. And you didn't even ask what I think she lied about."

"You know, you're smarter than you look." House chuckled.

"I work with high school kids who lie as a rule. I'm married to a lawyer. Some days I feel like a walking lie detector." There was a slight bitterness in his voice. "I know she still loves you."

"She doesn't."

"Now don't you start. You don't need to lie for her."

"Not a lie." House shook his head. "I don't believe she still loves me. She's attracted to me, yes. She feels guilty, yes. But love? No."

"She told you all that?"

House snorted. "No way. She told me she was over me."

"She lied."

"Of course she lied. She's a lawyer."

Mark sighed.

"Good point. I know she's lied to me in the past. About little things. Probably. I'm not stupid enough to want to find out about what exactly."

"Good for you." House wasn't sure where this was going. Either way, he didn't feel comfortable discussing Stacy with her husband of all people. He was glad they were getting close to the airport now.

"I guess you couldn't do that. Leave things be? You'd have to find out, no matter the cost."

"Yes. Which is why you're the one who's married to her."

Mark sighed. "I do love her."

"I know."

Mark looked surprised.

"And she loves you," House continued.

"Only because she couldn't have you."

That was quite possibly true. But House wasn't about to tell him that. He had promised.

"You really believe that? How many chances has she had to have me? You're still the one she's married to. You're happy. It's disgusting to watch, but you are."

Mark thought for a moment while he tried to find parking close to the terminal. "Yes, I think we are. Mostly."

"Nobody your age with half a brain can be reasonably expected to be happy for longer than ten minutes."

"Good point."

House opened the passenger door and got out. Maybe boring was the wrong word for Mark. Maybe decent was more appropriate. After he had grabbed his bag and cane from the back seat he leaned down into the open door.

"So keep being mostly happy. Beats what most people have."