Again, sorry the chapters are taking so long. Slow but steady...I promise I'm not giving up on the story! I have an ending in mind, but I'm not sure how many more chapters it'll take to get there. I'll keep writing as fast as I can as long as I get reviews =)

Remy barged into the men's locker room, which was thankfully empty other than the paramedic she sought. He looked surprised to see her there - for good reason - then took one look at her face and said, "What's wrong?"

She ran a hand through her hair and sat on the wooden bench before trying to answer. "I went to eat breakfast with House this morning, as usual. I barely got through the door before he freaked out and told me to leave. No explanation, no nothing. He wouldn't even look at me."

His scowl deepened. "I'm sorry, Remy. He should appreciate you more than that."

"I was pissed for about three minutes, then I started to think. Back when I worked for him, we all learned not to take it personally when he lashed out. Usually being edgier than normal was a sign that his leg pain was particularly bad that day. So I went to talk to his doctor, to find out if there was any negative change in his condition."

"And?" he asked when she paused.

"Doctor Myers said he's been doing great - so great, in fact, he's being sent back to Princeton tomorrow morning."

She saw the understanding cross his face, and he sighed. "Wow. So he's not taking it too well."

"Little bit of an understatement. This is a disaster, Stephen. He's obviously not ready to deal with whatever happened at home."

"Maybe being forced into going back will be good for him. He'll have no choice but to face the problem."

She chewed her lip, concerned. "I don't know. When House feels cornered...he might do something stupid."

"You don't think he'd...hurt himself?"

"He wouldn't outright kill himself," she said quietly, "but he could slowly self-destruct. Vicodin, morphine, anything he can get his hands on, mixed with the alcohol. If no one's there to stop him, and he knows no one's there...it'll kill him." Stephen was at a loss for advice, so he just listened. "He was doing so well, too," she said after a pause. "I've never had such normal conversations with him. And in his own roundabout, completely passive way...he was actually being nice." Since the main example of his strange kindness was enabling her to keep her secret from Stephen, she didn't elaborate. "I feel like if I just had a little more time, it might get to the point where I could ask him what happened between him and Wilson. If he told me about it...there wouldn't really be anything I could do except give him advice he'd no doubt ignore.

"He might act like he's ignoring it," Stephen interjected. "But still, if he could talk about it, that'd be one step closer to facing it."

"Either way, it's too late. Just the idea of going home tomorrow is a major setback for him. It'd take days to get back to the point where I might be able to ask him about it. Now, I don't see any way to make that happen. Once he goes home..." She clenched her teeth against the stinging in her eyes. Her gaze dropped, and several moments passed before she spoke again, barely audible. "I don't know if I'll ever hear from him again."

Stephen was silent. Because he won't contact her, or because he won't be around much longer? An idea was quickly forming in his mind, but true to his nature, he paused to think before speaking. It could put so much extra stress on her. And if something happens, she'll just feel all the more guilty. Who knows if he'd even agree to it? There was so much he knew he didn't know about the situation; years of history Remy kept carefully guarded.

Then she looked up, and caught the ponderous look on his face. "What are you thinking?"

It's her call. "There is one way you could have more time with him," he said slowly. Her silent gaze encouraged him to continue. "He could do some of his out-patient time here. It would be logical, after all, to continue with the same doctors. And the lowest-stress environment is always best for rehab." Meeting her eyes, he saw cautious hope creeping into them. "The only two questions would be whether he could take more time off work...and where he would stay."

He could see the gears turning in her head, trying to make the idea work. "He can get whatever time off he needs. If it's necessary, Chase will talk to the Dean of Medicine and explain parts of the situation. And...I have an extra bedroom."

"You know, this isn't something you have to do. It wouldn't be easy to have him staying with you, and he's a grown man, not your responsibility."

She was becoming more animated as the thought sunk in. "No, it could work. You have a point about keeping the same doctor. And his recovery will be much faster if he doesn't have to deal with whatever the hell it is he's so bent on avoiding." She paused, and her face fell. "But he'll never agree to it. That would be like admitting he needs to be here."

"Don't be so sure," Stephen said. "If he wants to delay going home enough...You might as well ask him."

"No," she said decisively. "I won't ask him, I'll tell him. If I ask him there's no way he'll stay. But if I act like it's already arranged and decided, he might just not make a fuss."

"Sounds good...if you're sure you can handle him for that long."

She laughed. "I used to put up with him all day, every day, and that was when he was holding all the cards. This will be a piece of cake."