"Hey, how's it going?" Remy didn't miss the careful look accompanying Stephen's casual greeting as she arrived at the nurses' station. She was later than usual because of her treatment appointment that morning, a fact he wouldn't miss. Eventually he's going to notice I'm late every Friday.

"Busy already," she answered, but she knew he didn't mean the ER. Last night he'd called after she talked to Chase and offered to drive her and House to her apartment around 10:00 that morning so they wouldn't have to mess with the bus. She gratefully accepted, and she knew she was also accepting the fact that Stephen would be keeping them company frequently during House's stay. She like having him around - was even starting to miss him when he wasn't - but it still made her nervous not knowing what House might say. Even comments about her old party-girl lifestyle would make Stephen wonder. She'd alluded to a wild past, but never revealed the extent of it, knowing that would require an explanation since it was so far from the Remy Hadley Stephen knew.

Always adept at reading her moods, Stephen moved on quickly. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah, let's go." Seeing the congestion near the elevators, she opted for the stairs, and he followed her. She waited till they were out of the noisy ER to say, "Thanks, Stephen. For being here this morning."

"Of course," he assured her, touching her arm as their eyes met. Hers were filled with a rare insecurity. She paused, then turned and started up the three flights of stairs.

**********

They arrived at room 608 to find the door already open. House was sitting up in bed, hospital wristband still present, but fully dressed in street clothes. "Finally," he grumbled, but he looked almost glad to see them.

"And good morning to you, too," she said, already flipping through his chart to make sure he was cleared for discharge. She signed her own name as the discharge doctor, and turned to find Stephen unfolding the hospital wheelchair stashed in a corner. She bit her lip and winced, waiting for his reaction

"Listen, I don't need the Knight in Shining Armor routine. I'm quite practiced at walking with one leg a little under full capacity." House brandished the hospital-issue cane leaning against his bed for emphasis. "I even have this rental here, since my Old Faithful died a noble death last week." Remy knew he was bluffing; he couldn't walk to the elevator, out of the building, to Stephen's car, and into her apartment without considerable pain. But he wouldn't give this up easily - a significant portion of his life was devoted to retaining the ability to walk. Sitting in that wheelchair would rub his pride the wrong way.

"Hospital policy," Stephen said casually. Good approach, she thought. Making a big deal out of the wheelchair would just make it harder for him to accept using it.

"Where's your stuff?" she asked. He pointed to a bag on the fake-wood nightstand. "That's all you have?" The knapsack was tiny, the kind that could be carried easily as a backpack. She narrowed her eyes, curious again as to why he was biking through Boston and apparently not planning to be gone more than a couple nights.

"What, you expect me to put a suitcase on my bike?"

She silently conceded the point, picking up the bag and swinging in onto her own shoulder. "Alright, let's go."

Holding her breath, she watched as Stephen pushed the wheelchair next to the bed. Without comment, House swung one leg over the side of the bed, then the other. A hand on the nightstand, weight on his good leg, and he maneuvered into the chair. Stephen turned him toward the door, and that was that.

What?? She couldn't believe he'd given in so easily. Resisting the temptation to glance at Stephen over his head because she knew House would feel it, she grabbed his cane and followed the two out of the room.

House tensed visibly as they came around the hallway corner to the bustling nurses' station. "Cane," he requested tersely.

She hesitated, but handed it to him. Of course. It's like his security blanket. She knew he just wanted to feel like he could be independently mobile if he had to. He accepted it wordlessly and clutched it firmly with both hands, relaxing slightly only when the elevator doors closed behind them.

"See the Nets game last night?" Stephen asked, startling Remy out of her analysis of House's behavior. "I missed it, late shift."

House smirked. "That sucks, it was a great game. Your pussy Celtics got their asses handed to them, again."

"You just wait," Stephen said with conviction as they made their way through the lobby. "The Nets don't have a chance if they meet again in the playoffs." And Remy realized what he was doing. He probably already knew the Celtics lost. Giving House someone to mock, all in good fun, was the best way to relax him in this uncomfortable situation. She was so impressed and grateful she could have just hugged him. Genius. God, it'll be good to have him around.

"Right," House said scornfully. "Like that group of leprechauns will even make it that far. Come over to the blue side."

"I'm no fair-weather fan!" He acted indignant, and Remy laughed.

"Boys," she said, shaking her head.

"Right, because you never participate in such male activities as betting pools and bachelor parties," he scoffed, and she didn't even mind the sensitive topic because she saw the spark in his eye. Still, she was glad they reached Stephen's car at that moment. She opened the passenger seat door for him, and he deftly swung his body in, dragging his right leg after with a wince she didn't miss. Without comment, she folded the wheelchair and slid it into the backseat next to her.

The unlikely trio arrived at Remy's apartment five blocks later and repeated the process in reverse, removing the wheelchair for House to get himself into. She was thankful he didn't argue this time. Hopefully this won't be a battle I have to fight every day. He should be walking soon.

Good thing I live on the first floor, she thought, walking next to Stephen as he pushed the chair up the ramp to the building door. Through the lobby and one short hall, then they arrived at her apartment. She fumbled with the keys, then swung the door open and held it for Stephen and House to enter.

"Can I please walk now?" House acted like they'd practically strapped him in to the chair, but they both let it slide. It was a pride thing.

"Go right ahead," she said, nodding to the cane he was gripping. He tried unsuccessfully to hide the grimace when he pushed himself up to standing. It'll be impossible for him to cover up every time he's in pain. Debating between helping him and pretending not to see, she opted for a middle ground. She dug into the bag still hanging off her shoulder until she came up with one of what she knew were many small orange bottles. Tossing it to him, she bit her tongue as he shook out four pills and swallowed them dry. Four? I've never seen him take more than two. But rule number one: no comments about his addictions. "Your room's back here," she said instead, moving toward the hallway and waiting for him to follow. He did, slowly, and she walked ahead so he wouldn't feel like he had an audience.

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