Function: Aww. I'm so happy that you are enjoying the story. It always means something when I hit a personal chord with someone. But sadface as to why. Yet I know exactly how that feels, too. So you're not alone out there. I send you much hugs! :)

KenzjeGirl: Thanks so much! I definitely hope it goes somewhere great!

And for those that have favorited and alerted me on this story, thank you, too. Its nice to see my familiar readers on each of my stories. Even if I do have a lot. Lol. Continue to enjoy guys! You're all full of awesome.

A Terminal Affair

2

The Courier had been gone for almost a week this time with no word. Her extended trips into the Mojave weren't much to be concerned with, for she was a busy girl, or she had better be considering what the two of them had on the line with their work. No, it was the complete absence of the usual tales of her exploits that was putting the proprietor of New Vegas on edge. She had no way to contact him with reports whilst she was out in the field, but he had found it unnecessary as she seemed to make it a point to almost scream her position at every juncture by her actions. Sometimes the stories amused him as he listen via securitrons to the passing gamblers talk about 'that courier' for her ingenuity and diplomacy was surely working a strange magic across the previous dull and lifeless region. Other times he found it unbearable that she would stop and waste her time with such trivial matters while she should be in the pursuit of his chip.

He wasn't so much concerned for her this time as he was suspicious of the lack of updates he was receiving. No small little town had been rescued at the last minute from raiders or thieves, no caravans protected, not even the occasional sighting of her. His immediate thoughts went straight to the conclusion that she was likely keeping under the radar on purpose. It was probably no secret that he kept tabs on her even while she wasn't inside the Strip, and lately she had grown increasingly hard to deal with, even secretive and vague when it came to certain things. He didn't appreciate this in the slightest. If she was to work for him then he must have complete disclosure about her travels and whatever news she might have about her search for the item Benny had stolen. It wasn't as if she didn't know the importance of what he was doing here. He had told her countless numbers of times, drilled it into her head.

It was a few hours after dark on the sixth day of her trip that Victor informed him that Miss Stokes had returned and would be coming up to see him after she made a stop off at her suite. What was so important that it could not wait for her to give him the latest? Perhaps if he had had some kind of inclination of her movements beforehand he wouldn't have been so irritated at her. Or the fact that she never kept him waiting before. No matter how tired or how late she came in the first place she had always went was up to the Penthouse to speak with him. What was the difference this time? Yes, he was quite sure she was trying to avoid him. He just couldn't figure out if it was because he was slowly losing her loyalty (if he even had it in the first place; it was hard to tell these days), or if he was just making something out of nothing.

House sincerely doubted he was imagining things. He wasn't the kind of man to succumb to flights of fantasy. Rationale and logic were practically his middle names, and he didn't jump to conclusions about situations this close to home. Paranoid people searched out indications of guilt. He was not paranoid. Cautious yes, and no one would blame him for that after everything in his life, especially the latest betrayal by Benny, but not paranoid.

When his impromptu employee finally appeared before him she was freshly bathed, hair still moist and uncombed around her face. The words "its about time" weren't exactly used, but the sentiment was hard to hide within his tone and choice of statement. The following conversation didn't improve much from there, in fact it got worse, reaching its peak when she not so subtlety threatened to quit and leave everything to chance.

For nearly two hundred years he hadn't missed his human body, but in that moment he wanted nothing more than to grab her and pin her against the wall and force her to understand just how childish she was being. And having one of his securitrons do it would not only defeat the purpose (which would be partially his own satisfaction of putting her in her place) but would also prove that her words were exactly right.

"I know you won't come for me yourself. You never do anything yourself."

Her words were on repeat in his brain. He knew exactly why he needed someone else out there doing his work for him. It wasn't because he was lazy or unable to like he suspected she thought, but because he literally couldn't go out there. Twice in one day now she'd made him wish for his body to be back to normal again so he could just walk out the front door and go find Benny himself. That would show her she wasn't dealing with some eccentric shut-in intent on making others do his dirty work. Finding Benny and getting the Platinum chip back would kill two birds with one stone, the first being to put a stop to her assumptions about him being some soft pre-war gentleman unable to cope in the new world, and the second… well, he wouldn't mind looking Benny in the face. He told himself he was above violence, but the thought of giving him one nice punch to the jaw was very tempting.

It wouldn't hurt to think about such things as long as he kept himself above actually doing them.

His guest however was apparently not above violence. When he checked in on her via a camera feed in the presidential suite she was deep in the throes of an angry fit that nearly left a hole in the wall. That didn't help his feelings for her at the moment. Destroying property, whether intentional or unintentional, only served to fuel more animosity towards her actions. Despite that he admitted that the anger she was feeling mirrored his own and if put in her situation he might have done something similar, if not more carefully. His beloved Lucky 38 was not the right place to throw a tantrum. Watching her helped his anger none. He knew he should find something to distract himself from wanting to grab her pretty little throat and squeeze but couldn't drag his attention away from the feed.

For the third time he thought of his existence within the Lucky 38 and how that is how he would remain from that time on. She was a constant reminder of a life, of a world, that he would not walk in again – at least for a very long time. In a way he was resentful of her for this, for once he had considered himself an adventurous type, not just in the field of science but in the world in general. He'd been almost everywhere in the world, and despite his love of Las Vegas, had considered them to be fun and exciting trips. The Mojave had become like a new location he'd never traveled, full of people he'd never seen, a new culture to be explored and studied. She was part of that world, walked its street each day, and he was here, the silent and neutral observer. Much like God he watched over his home, but unlike God he had limits to that which he could experience.

Ridiculous. Finally the feed went black and he turned to something else, unable to watch her anymore. He was watching her like some sort of peeping tom, albeit not in a perverse manner. In the maelstrom created by their argument he was devolving irrationally. So what he couldn't walk amongst them? They were nothing more than uneducated, ungrateful cretins. There was nothing fascinating that he could find among them unless he counted shocked incredulity at their ignorance. Claire Stokes was the greatest example of that ignorance. She was shortsighted, arrogant, and frustratingly small-minded. He was missing nothing by being in here, in fact his immortality put him even further up above those outside. He'd outlast every single one of them and change the face of this world.

With or without Claire.

XXX

Not long after House switched off the feeds from the presidential suite he powered his systems down to standby for some time to recharge. It was the closest to sleep he got since being placed in the stasis chamber that had prolonged his life. When the cycle was complete he 'woke' to find a surprising alert in the network cache. He'd made sure every terminal within the Lucky 38 had been incorporated into his networks. Before the final battle of the war that tore the world into pieces he had cut off the system from the outside except for his own, which would be necessary to keep contact with his other sites. The message that now appeared told him that this was something that the courier had not figured out yet or considered.

From: Terminal 292-A (Location: Presidential Suit)

To: Here there was a long list of addresses and locations as if someone had chosen everything available.

Subject: Hello?

Is there anyone who can read this?

– C.

P.S. I really need someone to talk to.

House actually laughed at this. What a pathetic attempt for communication. Who just sent out a message to the masses with no idea where it was going? The Courier, that was who. It just emphasized the point he was thinking to himself the night before and how ignorant she was when it came to the workings of the world.

Still… after a little thought he concluded that this could play in his favor. He had seen the way she was open with even strangers. If he could somehow strike up a dialogue with her and keep her from knowing who she was talking to she might reveal important information she might not otherwise, at least to him. At this point describing their relationship as "strained" was putting it nicely. She needed someone fresh to talk to, someone she didn't already have negative, angry feelings towards. It might take a little bit of time to completely earn her trust and get what he needed from her, but if that was one think he knew about himself it was that he was a patient man.

The only hitch was making sure she stayed around long enough to begin that dialogue in the first place. He sent an order to Victor to request Miss Stokes' presence in the penthouse after she woke. They'd have a talk, and if need be he'd apologize for the argument the night before. It wasn't too far of a stretch for he'd determined that even though he was right he should have known better to talk to someone like her in the manner he did. She just didn't have it in her to see the situation as he did, automatically setting the conversation up to fail. He would have to try new tactics with her from that day forward to ensure she stayed in his employ.

While he waited for her to stir he went about a reply to her cry for company.

XXX

The muscles in her neck ached and the chair creaked as Claire sat up. Rubbing the back of her neck she realized she'd fallen asleep in her chair while working on the contents of her pip-boy. The disagreement with House had faded into a nightmare, leaving her to question whether it had really happened or not, but the paperweight that lay haphazardly on the floor let her know that it hadn't just been a dream. A yawn broke out, prompting her to climb up from her chair and plod out of her bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom where she splashed her face with cool water. When she came out she was halted by Victor.

"Good morning, Miss! Mr. House wants to see you upstairs when you find the time."

When I find the time? Claire lifted an eyebrow at the metal cowboy. "I think I'm going to be busy all day today. It might have to wait." She waited for the sly smirk to cross her face until after she'd turned away and walked back to her room.

A few seconds later, and after Victor's screen seemed to shimmer as if having some sort of interference he added. "He says if you can find the time, please."

Claire's mouth quirked up into a thoughtful expression. "I'll see if I can rearrange my schedule." With that she shut her door. She fully intended to go up and talk to him now, mostly because of the newest development of some kind of manners concerning her boss instead of the usual order-giving. She was highly interested to see what he had to say. He was either going to try to appeal to her kind nature and use nice words or he was just being cordial until he could get her upstairs and then he was going to berate her again. She'd have to see once she got up there. Either way seemed worth it at the moment since she had brought him down a level by forcing him to use the word 'please.'

She shrugged out of her clothes. She hadn't meant to sleep in them, but she hadn't meant to fall asleep while working either. It was nice to feel the air on her naked skin as she stretched out over the plush comforter and arched her back. Her joints groaned under the strain before she laid back. A few minutes of relaxing silence and she felt her muscles loosening and unknotting. Eyeing the wardrobe in the corner she thought of her clothing choices and decided upon a dress. Maybe after her talk with House she'd go over to the Tops and take a day off. Swank was always willing to make a girl feel welcome. A wicked grin met her eyes as she thought about her last visit to the other casino and home of the Chairmen. She'd given Swank the rundown on Benny's whereabouts as well that time, seeing as it was fair that he know where Benny had run off to and why. The suave new head of the Chairmen made her trip well worth it.

When enough time had passed that she felt she'd made a proper example of just how not in control House was of her actions she pulled herself up and got dressed. It would teach him not to treat her like a dog that could be whistled to and called when her master wished it. She was his employee, not his slave, and it would do to remind him of that sometimes. If she wanted to be treated like a slave she'd hook up with the Legion. Caesar had already sent her an invitation, one she was sure would end with an inquiry of her allegiances. Everyone in the Mojave seemed to want her these days. But House had her loyalties – for now. If he kept up his ill treatment of her it might not stay that way for long.

However, for the time being her words the night before had been empty ones spoken out of frustration. She wouldn't leave his service at this time. House was a man who had spent a very long time not having to deal with other humans, and even when he did she was sure that he was always in complete control of everyone around him. It would be unfair to toss a chance working with him aside because of a few misunderstandings and social faux pas. She'd likely give him more than just this chance as well, resigning herself to the fact that it would take more than a few screaming matches for her to turn against him. Sadly she didn't think he understood that. Yet if he was true to his word and meant what he said about helping humankind she would do as he asked, all she asked in return was a little understanding on his part concerning what she had to go through to do those jobs for him.

Last she went to grab her pip-boy from where she'd left it on the desk the night before, plugged up to the computer. The screen on the terminal came on as she unplugged it and a flashing icon caught her eye. She tabbed through the options and chose it, curious.

Her eyes went wide when she saw the mail screen come up with a new message. Subject: re: Hello? "You have to be shitting me!" She couldn't believe it, someone had actually replied to her. There was actually someone out there to reply! Her heart beat even more furiously than it had the night before in her momentary adrenaline rush for originally sending it. She went to choose it and paused, biting her lip. House was expecting her upstairs, and although she was angry with him for last night she wasn't going to push whatever pleasant mood he seemed to be in this morning. "You!" She pointed at the screen. "I'll be right back!"

She bounded to the elevator, intent on getting the meeting over with so she could see the reply. There was a chance it was just some dumb reply from an idiot messing around, but she hoped otherwise. It was more exciting to think of someone else out there like her trying to reach out to others. That's what she would believe until she finally read it. In the meantime: House.

XXX

The Courier was still sleeping when House opened up the camera feed to her room again and was surprised to see that she had fallen asleep while she worked. For an instant it reminded him somewhat of himself, especially in the earlier days of RobCo. He would stay up for hours putting the finishing touches on some project, crunching numbers, or tinkering with any number of technological gagedtry. Almost as soon as he made that connection he pushed it away. Any comparison between himself and that… barbarian would be an insult. Regardless, he kept one eye on the monitor while he went about other tasks.

Claire finally awakened sometime after his morning check on what the NCR Embassy was up to and before the hourly sweep of the Strip for any signs of interest. She disappeared from her bedroom, but he did not follow her. When she returned she was trapped into a conversation with Victor about his request. At first she denied it, stating she had other plans. What bullshit. "Victor," he said, "would you please ask our dearest courier if she could please find the time to come see me today?"

Victor did so and he watched her reply over the feed. The smart-alec smirk that crossed her face as she shut her door did not escape him. Victor might not have seen it, but oh he did. She was playing a game with him, the viper. Well, two can play games, and House was a man that won the majority of his. Let her have her moment, for it would be over very soon.

He realized with an inward displeasure that he was watching her again, spying. He'd never found it necessary to lower himself to such measures, but after Benny it didn't hurt to keep an eye on your employees. Although when she started to strip he knew there was a limit to this kind of surveillance, where it became not a means of keeping tabs but a invasion of privacy. At the first flash of skin much lighter than that of her sun-kissed extremities he immediately switched feeds. He knew that continuing to watch would not cause any sort of excitement in him whatsoever. The human body was a matter of science, an amalgamation of flesh and limbs, and nothing to get worked up about. Still, it would serve no purpose to see her in the nude and he'd seen what he had intended to.

She would be coming upstairs soon. Just as he had calculated she would.

XXX

The bright sunlight that spilled through the windows of the Penthouse were a stark contrast to the no-windowed darkness of the presidential suite. Claire blinked as she came out of the elevator, smoothing her dress. For a moment she paused to enjoy the warm rays against her face with a sigh and then continued on. Once down the stairs the pressed the usual button to initiate conversation and stepped back, waiting for House to address her.

"You seem very dressed up for a meeting with me, Miss Stokes," House said, and now she was sure that he could see her when they spoke. She tried not to, but she smiled.

"Yes, I was planning on going over the Tops sometime today. Swank was saying how they were about to start one of the new acts that I found for them. It would be nice to see them in action. But I'm sure my dress or day plans were not why you summoned me." No. House was never so casual. This meeting had a purpose, a very specific one.

There was a short pause on the other end where she pictured him sitting back and considering his answer. She always wondered if he was stowed away somewhere at a desk, fingers steepled and brows drawn in intense thought every time they met. It wouldn't surprise her, but neither would him sitting in an armchair in a pair of pajamas. House was the keen representation of duality to her much of the time. He was a cool calm or explosively wrathful. He was controlled and thoughtful or he was impatient and rash. He was a savior or a selfish corporate head.

"I suppose you know me well enough by now to know that you're right. I called you up here to tell you how regretful I am about last night. Our discussion should have never gotten to the point where it was so heated. It was below the both of us."

"Yes, it was." Claire agreed with a gentle nod of her head, crossing her arms behind her back. She would not apologize first and so far he toed the line of it, but she wanted the words. She wanted an 'I'm sorry, Miss Stokes.' Would he actually go so far as to do so, or was he hoping she would say it first so he could just agree and they move on? "I was tired last night. I'd been walking since yesterday morning to make it back. And you seemed… preoccupied." It was the nicest way she would phrase it without just coming out and saying he was acting like a one-track minded prick.

"That I was." He admitted. "I apologize for being harsh with you. It was ill placed."

Claire's smile widened considerably, though once more she tried to hide it. This time she did so by lifting her hand to brush back some strands of hair until she could make it dwindle to something acceptable. She hoped for both of their sakes he really meant this apology. If he did then they might now have too many problems from now on, but if he was just saying it because she got angry then he would have learned nothing from her anger. Still, it was nice to hear it from him whether he meant it or not. "I'm sorry, too. I know how important this is to you and trust me I realize how important this is for the entire Mojave – the world probably. This is a very convenient arrangement for both of us, Mr. House. I like it here, and I respect you. So from now on let's not fight anymore? No hard feelings?"

"None, whatsoever."

"Good. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I'm starving." She placed a hand on her argumentative tummy. "I would like to grab some breakfast. If you have more you would like to talk about I can come back afterward?"

"No, I believe that should be all for today. You have been running around for the past week. Enjoy a day off."

"Why, thank you. Have a pleasant day yourself." Claire responded. She had no idea what House did in his spare time. Probably something geniusy. She'd never known a man such as him before so she wouldn't even try to consider the possibilities. With nothing more to say she started up the stairs, but unlike the night before she took them slowly, giving him an opportunity to stop her if there was something else he needed. It was silence and then the flicker of the screen and the flash of the familiar words "lost connection" before everything returned to normal. House had gone. In minutes she was gone, too, the brief ding of the elevator the only evidence that any activity at all had taken place in the Penthouse. Emptiness then filled the space.

I had a lot of fun writing House in this chapter. He's such a complex character. I wasn't sure what I wanted him to say to her in his reply, but I'll have something for you next chapter.