Sorry the chapters aren't coming very fast, but I promise I'm not giving up on the story, it's just been a busy couple weeks. So here's a long one for you...enjoy!

"So where are we going for dinner? It's your turn to choose." Stephen took his eyes off the road to glance over at her.

"No, definitely yours!" she insisted. This was a game they always played; arguing over who would decide on a restaurant. "Remember, I chose last time and we went to Rilano?" The classy cafe was her favorite fallback.

"All right," he conceded. "How about Ruby Tuesday's?"

She laughed. "Should have seen that coming. Sounds good."

"You know me and my All-American classics," he admitted proudly.

They arrived at the restaurant ten minutes later and were seated at a table for two. Remy opted for the restaurant's famous salad bar, and Stephen ordered a monstrous cheeseburger with more toppings than she could list.

"Bet you can't eat that whole thing," she commented when it arrived. She'd seen him do it before, but each time it just amazed her.

"You really wanna bet?" he asked with a mischievous sparkle in his eye.

She pretended to think a moment. "No, I have faith in you. After all, who would bet against the winner of the Quincy pancake-eating contest?" she teased.

"And proud of it," he said, grinning. Six months ago, while helping him move to a new apartment, she'd come across the t-shirt proclaiming him the winner of the 1988 fundraiser in his home town. She thought it was hilarious, and was determined never to let him live it down.

They dug into their food, both hungry from the long day at work. "So how do you think your patient is doing?" he said, referring to House. He could tell the injured doctor was the only thing on her mind.

"I talked to the doctor in charge of his physical therapy earlier today...I wouldn't have put it exactly the way House did, but he was pretty much right. The doctor wants to fix too much; make House better than he was before the accident. And with House's apathy, there's not much any doctor can do either way."

"Any new ideas on what's causing his depression?" Stephen asked.

"Other than the usual, you mean? It has to be his argument with his best friend. I got a call from Robert Chase at Princeton-Plainsboro today, though - he said Wilson has been worrying about House. He's not buying the 'vacation' story, which makes sense since I sure don't remember House ever taking time off for no reason. Every time he disappeared for a few days back when I worked for him, he was either arrested or on a different drug."

"But there's not a lot his friend can do, since he did email and say he was taking vacation time, right? It's not like he can file a missing persons report."

"That's what Chase and I concluded," she said. "It's a good sign that Wilson's concerned, though...maybe he'll eventually get over whatever the hell this fight is about. I can't even imagine the cause."

Stephen raised an eyebrow. "You can't see House doing something that would piss him off?"

"I can't think of anything I haven't already seen House do to piss him off! Wilson has probably the highest House tolerance of anyone I know, and I can't imagine what would be bad enough for them to stop speaking for a month."

"A fight over a girl?" he suggested. "Middle-school style."

"Never," she said without hesitating. "Not that House is any more mature than your average twelve-year-old, but he just isn't that interested in relationships. That would mean putting someone else above himself. Besides, you heard what he said in there...the prognosis for liver failure caused by extreme long-term drug abuse isn't great. Maybe he doesn't want to put anyone else through that with him."

"Just because he might not have as long left doesn't mean he shouldn't try to enjoy the time he does have," Stephen pointed out. "Everyone's mortal, just some people think they know when their time will be up. But we could be killed in a car accident on the way home tonight just as easily as he could die of liver failure next week."

"He does enjoy life, in his own way. He just won't allow another person to tie themselves to his sinking ship."

She suddenly paused, playing back her last sentence in her head. He just won't allow another person to tie themselves to his sinking ship. She blinked and pushed the voice screaming comparisons from her mind. "Either way, the only one other than Wilson who can stand him is Cuddy. Everyone thought they were going to get together, but apparently she got sick of his BS too. I don't think he could ever end up with anyone else, and he and Wilson don't exactly go for the same types anyway," she said, bringing the conversation back to the reason for the friends' disagreement.

"Maybe a work-related fight," was Stephen's next idea. "Disagreement over a patient's diagnosis?"

"I don't remember a patient they didn't disagree on. House doesn't take it personally when someone doesn't agree with his insane theories, and Wilson usually doesn't even doubt him anymore because he's somehow always right. There has to be something more going on...Maybe Chase will figure it out. If Wilson gets worried enough, he might share anything he knows that could be a clue to where House went."

"Give it time - House could decide to tell you what's going on. After all, he can't avoid it forever; he's only here for another ten days."

She grimaced. "As it gets closer to time for him to go back, he'll just get angrier and more withdrawn. If this problem isn't solved by then...I don't know how he'll cope with that and his recovery at the same time."

"He's a grown man, Remy. He can deal with it."

"Sometimes," she said quietly. "Other times I swear he's just a ten year old boy afraid to look like a wuss or catch cooties."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," he reminded her again. "All you can do is be around and see what he decides to share."

**********

Remy arrived at the hospital just after nine Friday morning, mind still racing over everything that had happened in the last four days. As she pushed the button for floor 6 on the elevator, she realized this was strangely familiar; her first destination every morning being to check in with House. It's not like he has anyone else to visit him, she tried to rationalize, although Stephen seems to be changing that.

"Hey," she said, pushing open his familiar door and glad to see he wasn't at physical therapy yet. "How's breakfast?" She gestured at his tray with a smile.

"Like cardboard dipped in corn syrup," he grumbled, poking at the "waffle" with a suspicious glare. As soon as he caught sight of the Panera bag in her hand, though, his eyes lit up. "Please tell me you brought a starving cripple some sustenance." He clasped his hands together in an exaggerated begging motion.

"Blueberry or cinnamon?" she asked, moving the hospital meal from his bed tray and pulling several bagels out of her sack instead.

"Seriously, no chocolate chip?" he complained, reaching for a cinnamon one. "You have to at least have cream cheese."

"Plain and honey-nut." She set both before him. "You're welcome."

She was actually surprised when he said, "Thank you," casually but not sarcastically. Spreading a liberal amount of plain cream cheese over his bagel, he bit in and was nearly half done before she even processed the comment.

He polished off both halves of the first bagel and reached for one of the blueberry ones before he spoke again. "You're surprisingly awake this morning, and I know you don't do caffeine. Didn't get any last night?"

"House," she admonished. "Stephen and I aren't together."

He snorted. "Yeah, I could tell by the way he stopped by yesterday because he was a 'friend of yours.' He wasn't as amazed as most people are by my stunning wit, so obviously he expected it. The only way he could have known is if you told him, and I know you don't just volunteer information about your past, including your past bosses. Therefore, you're obviously close."

"Close, yes. Friends. Believe it or not," she said, knowing she was just inviting remarks about her bisexuality, "I do sometimes make friends who are male."

Much to her surprise, he let the opportunity pass. "Tell Knight in Shining Armor that. Another of those damage-loving, feed-on-neediness types."

She knew he was drawing that conclusion because he thought Stephen was dating her while knowing she had a terminal disease. She didn't bother to correct either of those assumptions. "Think what you want," she said dismissively. "Not like anything I say will change that."

"Especially after yesterday," he muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"All I'm saying is that you better make sure you and KSA are on the same page with the 'just friends' thing. Unless you're lying to me, and somehow covering up the signs of the wild sex all last night."

"Stop calling him that," she snapped. "And since when do you give personal advice?"

"Just saying," he shrugged. "I don't have a lot else to do here. Maybe I should start a 'Dear Abby' column...call it 'The Love Doctor.'"

"Hilarious. And while you're at it, just take over Public Relations for Princeton-Plainsboro." She rolled her eyes.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" he said, nodding to the clock. Nine forty five.

"Shit, I'm la - wait. How the hell do you know that?"

"My physical therapist told me I should walk a few yards if I could," he explained innocently. "The nurses' station on this floor is just a few yards away. All kinds of computers."

"That doesn't explain how you could..."

"The nurses never bother to sign out except at the end of their shifts. How many clinical trials for Huntington's treatment do you think are scheduled in this hospital? All patient files go to the same mainframe."

She scowled. "I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I'm actually shocked you would violate my privacy like that."

"Some people never learn," he said, shaking his head.

"Should have known you'd cause trouble with nothing to do," she muttered, but her anger was already ebbing. Looking up the time of her weekly appointment wasn't the worst thing he'd ever done to her - testing her for the disease without her consent beat it by far. And really, he was probably going out of his mind with boredom. If stalking her schedule was what entertained him, so be it. Maybe it would divert him from the Stephen puzzle.

She decided to at least pretend to be angry for a while. No need to let him off too easy. "I'm going to my appointment now. If there's anything else I'm forgetting, page me," she snapped as she left briskly.

"Thirteen -" She barely heard his voice following her, almost...regretful? I'll deal with him later. I don't have time to play his games right now.

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