Chapter 39

House had already picked up the phone and dialed 8 of the 10 numbers he needed to call, and then chickened out and hung up the phone about six times. Maybe lucky number seven would be the one. House dialed the number and waited as the phone began ringing on the other end. After the fourth ring, he thought how perfect it would be if nobody answered after he'd spent an hour working up the nerve to call.

"House residence" a deep male voice answered. Shit, House thought.

"Hey Dad," he said, resigned to his fate. He had really hoped his mother would answer. He could have avoided a lecture that way.

"Greg," John replied. There was a long and uncomfortable pause as House mentally mapped out this conversation.

"Listen, I've got something to tell you guys and I don't want to do it twice. Is Mom home?" House hoped desperately that she was, otherwise the interrogation would begin.

"Yes. I'll go get her," John replied.

"Wait, Dad," House said quickly.

"Yes?"

"Ask her to pick up another extension. I want to talk to you both," House said. He hoped the fact that he asked to include his father in the conversation would make this a bit easier.

"Just a minute," John said. House could hear him calling to his mother from a distance. There was a brief pause and then a muted click as Blythe picked up the line.

"Greg, dear, how nice to hear from you," Blythe said and House smiled. He could always count on his mother to ease tension.

"Hey Mom. Listen, I called because I need to tell you guys something and I need a favor," House said, pausing to think about how to put this. "Do you still have Nana Jenkins engagement ring?"

"Of course I do," Blythe answered before the reason House would ask dawned on her. "Oh Greg, really?"

"Really what?" John asked. He'd been listening, but not truly giving House his full attention. House picked up on this and thought how typical it was.

"John, isn't it obvious? Greg is proposing," Blythe gushed. House grimaced, bracing himself for the …

"What? To whom? Why is the first we're hearing about it? It's not that Stacy woman is it?" John bellowed.

"No, Dad, it's not Stacy. And I told Mom at Christmas that I was seeing someone," House said, unable to stop himself from contradicting his father's impression that this was the first they'd heard of it. Perhaps it was the first he'd heard, as House was sure he hadn't been paying attention then either.

"So who is the lucky woman who finally recognized you for the catch that you are?" Blythe asked. House smiled; he couldn't help it. No matter what his father said, and that was plenty, his mother always said exactly the right thing.

"Her name is Allison. You met her when you were here in Princeton, on the way to Europe, remember?" House knew his mother would remember. Probably his father too; he'd always had an eye for a good looking woman.

"That girl doctor?" John asked, and House cringed at how chauvinistic that sounded. "For God's sake Greg, she must be 20 years younger than you!"

"Not quite," House muttered, not wanting to start this conversation.

"Of course we remember her, Greg, she's lovely. I assume you want me to send the ring to you?" Blythe asked, trying to steer the conversation away from anything unpleasant. This was not the time to be arguing.

"Yeah, I do. She deserves something special," House said. He could practically hear his mother beaming at him through the phone line.

"I'll ship it out today," Blythe said, and House smiled with relief. "When do plan to ask her?"

"Soon. I was sort of hoping we could get married on Valentine's Day," House admitted, and then prepared for some derisive comment from his father. Luckily, all he got was a half-hearted snort. His father had very little appreciation for romance.

"Valentine's Day? Greg, that's barely a month away. You'll never be able to plan a proper wedding in that amount of time," Blythe chastised him.

"I don't want a proper wedding, Mom. And Allison's been married before, I'm not sure she'd really want to go through all that again either."

"Wait, she's already been married?" John asked. "She can't even be 30 years old. She's probably only after you because she thinks you have money."

"John!" Blythe said and House bit his tongue.

"Her husband died of cancer," House said, hoping that would shut his father up.

"Oh, well," John said. Wow, Dad, way to admit you were wrong, House thought to himself but did not say.

"Well, Greg whatever you two decide on is perfectly fine as long as it's what you both want. You'll let us know when the wedding is so we can attend?"

"How about if we wait and make sure she says yes first?" House said, eager to get this over with. The longer he talked to his father about this, the more chances there were a fight would break out.

"Yes, of course. Well, expect the ring in a few days, dear. And do call me," Blythe said.

"Thanks Mom," House said. He could hear his father hang up his extension without so much as a goodbye, never mind congratulations.

"I'll let you go, I'm sure you must be very busy," Blythe said. "I'm so happy for you sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you too Mom," House said. "Bye." He hung up the phone and mentally shook himself. Well, that could have been worse, he thought.

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Friday morning the ring arrived in the mail. House carried it in his sport coat pocket, eager to show it off to Quig. He was, needless to say, extremely disappointed to find a message on this desk saying Quig was out for the day. Well now what was he supposed to do? This was something that required thought and planning and most importantly, someone to tell him he was doing the right thing.

By lunch time House was so fidgety Foreman actually asked him if he was on something. House just growled at him and Foreman backed off. By one o'clock, even House couldn't stand himself anymore. He had to talk to someone, and even though he had the biggest mouth in the hospital it looked like Wilson was it.

"Got an hour?" House asked Wilson as he walked into the office. He sat on the couch and began his ritual cane tapping, not really waiting for an answer.

"I've got 45 minutes," Wilson said. "Why?"

"Need to talk," House replied.

"You? Need to talk?" Wilson teased.

"It's one o'clock and it's Friday. Quig is out and apparently Pavlov wasn't the idiot I always thought he was. I need a deep and meaningful conversation," House said.

"Wow. I don't know if we can do deep and meaningful in 45 minutes," Wilson said, half-serious.

"Then let's speed this up," House said. "What are you doing on Valentine's Day?"

"I don't know. It's a month away. Probably something low-key," Wilson said. "Why?"

"Need a best man," House said.

"Huh?"

"I've only got 45 minutes. You're going to have to keep up," House snarked. "I need a best man."

"You're getting married," Wilson said stupidly.

"Nope, I just need a best man so I won't be the only one in a tux," House snapped. Wilson turned his head and looked out the window. House turned and followed his gaze. He saw nothing of interest. "Tick, tock Wilson."

"Sorry, just looking for the flying pigs," Wilson said. House groaned. "When did you ask her? You're not even speaking."

"I haven't asked her yet," House said. He stood and put the ring on Wilson's desk, then started pacing.

"Wow," Wilson said. "You're actually going to propose."

"I understand women like a little advanced notice," House said. Wilson smirked at him. He was nervous. This was priceless and Wilson found himself wishing desperately that he had a camera.

"Well, you'd better do it soon," Wilson said. House looked at him quizzically. "That Price guy's been nosing around about whether she's single or not."

House paused in his pacing as a thoughtful look passed over his face. Suddenly he grinned, an evil, maniacal sort of grin. This was going to be so much fun.

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Cameron was finally getting to some of the backlogged paperwork that the personnel department had sent to Cuddy. Thankfully none of it required a lot of action; there were mostly things that personnel decided the administration needed to know about. The majority of the information was pretty mundane, notifications of injuries to the staff, all of them minor, reported illnesses and so on. Cameron had filed the paperwork pertaining to Dr. Price's fellowship when she discovered some other papers in the file marked Dr. House. She smiled a little sadly as she recognized the forms naming her as his medical proxy. She wondered if he would be changing that back or not. As she removed the papers from the file she found another set of papers that she hadn't seen before.

She glanced them over quickly and thought that it must be some sort of mistake. Sitting up a little straighter in her chair, she read the first few pages more carefully. It wasn't a mistake, these were DNR papers. For House. House signed a DNR. Cameron just couldn't get her head around that. House signed a DNR. Did he really think so little of life, of his life, that he was willing to sign it all away? Cameron knew many doctors who had signed them, their decision made by the patients they watched waste away hooked up to machines. But, Cameron knew many other doctors, herself included, who saw the amazing medical advances that could made in relatively short amounts of time and decided that a fighting chance was better than no chance at all.

Cameron would have assumed House was one of the latter. He fought so hard for all his patients that she couldn't imagine him not wanting to fight that hard for himself. She began to go over all the things she knew about him, surprisingly little she realized, and wondered just how much he had really used the Vicodin for the pain in his leg and how much was for all the rest of his pain. There had been times, few and fleeting, when she'd wondered if he was depressed. She'd dismissed them, flippantly she now thought, because that was just House. Maybe it wasn't just House.

Her fingers worrying at the edges of the pages she looked through all of them now. He'd signed this DNR after the shooting. Cameron sighed. She was beginning to think he was right, and that he really didn't know how to be happy, until she reached the last few pages. He rescinded the DNR while they were together. Cameron closed her eyes, reflecting on how far he'd come in that time. He'd been through rehab, he was in therapy, he'd rescinded his DNR and he'd told her he loved her. Cameron glanced at her watch and seeing that it was nearly five o'clock, she tossed the file on her desk and headed for Wilson's office. She needed to talk.

"Jimmy, you got a few minutes?" Cameron asked from Wilson's doorway.

"Sure," Wilson said, waving her in. "I'm just working on some charts. What can I do for you?"

"I found the DNR," Cameron said, perching herself stiffly on the edge of Wilson's couch. Wilson's pen stopped mid-chicken scratch. Her tone of voice and posture left no doubt whose DNR she was talking about.

"He rescinded it," Wilson said, putting the pen down and looking at Cameron.

"Found that too," Cameron replied, tapping her hands on her knees. "He signed it the same time he made me his proxy."

Wilson nodded. He was torn. Part of him wanted to tell her what House was planning, not because he couldn't keep a secret, but because she looked so upset. The other part of him was terrified of the cane shaped lump he'd end up with if House ever found out. Wilson just nodded again, and decided that he could give her a little encouragement without actually telling her anything.

"I know why he didn't tell me," Cameron spoke again, unnerved by Wilson's silence. Normally he was only too happy to psycho-analyze House with her. "I know he's not ready to let me in, for real anyway. I just wish he didn't have to shut me all the way out."

"Allison, you've just got to give him a little time," Wilson said quietly. "He loves you."

"He loved Stacy too," Cameron said. "And he gave her up because he thought he couldn't be happy."

"He's been happy with you. He just didn't recognize it because it's been so long," Wilson replied. Something in Wilson's tone made Cameron pause. She stood up and began pacing. Wilson tried to hide his smirk as he watched Cameron trace the same path House had walked earlier that day. "He'll come around, maybe sooner than you think."

"Can I ask you something?" Cameron asked.

"Shoot."

"He's worth it, isn't he? I only know the stuff he lets me know. I mean, you're probably the only person who knows the real House. Is he worth it?" Cameron asked.

"There's only one House, thank God, and he's …" Wilson waved his hands to indicate he couldn't find the proper words. "He's an ass; he's a manipulative, cruel, selfish, rude, overbearing, arrogant son of a bitch. But when he lets you in, he's brilliant, funny, insightful, honest and fathoms deep with emotion he'd never admit to anyone else." Wilson smiled. "He's like no one you've ever known, or ever will. Yeah, he's worth it."

"Are you sure you're not in love with him?" Cameron smiled.

"Well there was that time at Mardi Gras…" Wilson let his voice trail off and grinned.