SO sorry it's been a while!! I was on vacation and didn't have much internet access, but now I'm home and ready to write!

Less than half an hour later, the three arrived back at the hospital, Stephen pushing House in his chair again. Remy and Stephen were technically still on-shift, and House's first physical therapy session was scheduled for noon. "Gonna go scrounge up something edible in the cafeteria," he muttered as soon as they entered the first-floor lobby. He shoved the wheels himself, spinning off toward the cafeteria and proving he was quite adept at moving around himself.

"You could have gotten something to eat at my place," she commented to his retreating back, not expecting a response. They watched him go and walked toward the elevator. "I'm impressed," she said as they stepped inside. "I thought he'd never get in that thing."

"Another day or two and he'll be walking," Stephen predicted. "He sure is good with that chair, though."

"It's not the first time he's had to use one," she said quietly. "I wasn't around after his infarction, but I get the idea it was months before he started walking again."

"He'll do the same this time, Remy. He's not ready to give up on life yet."

"Why do you say that?"

He shrugged. "I just get the feeling there's something he wants to get back to."

She sighed. "Good. I thought I was imagining that, wishful thinking. Because what could there be? He's got to be bored of his job by now, without Cuddy to enable his risk-taking. He has no family, no girlfriend or anything - at least not that Chase knows of, and he would have heard - and his best friend is angry at him. And by best friend, I mean only friend." Stephen just listened, allowing her to work through her thoughts. "After Wilson's girlfriend died, House blamed himself - she was on the bus because she came to get him from a bar, then after the accident he couldn't even remember she'd been there. Once they realized she was lying in a Princeton General bed, House figured out what was wrong with her...too late. There was nothing anyone could do. Wilson was so hurt, he just left. Quit his job at the hospital two months later, refused to talk to House. It took months and House's father's funeral for the two of them to make amends."

"But they did?"

"Yeah, they were back to their same practically abusive relationship pretty quick. Which I think should have proved to House that no matter what, Wilson will be there. So whatever happened last week...I can't even imagine what would be worse than Amber's death, but House seems convinced things will never be the same."

Stephen was silent, thinking. "I know you don't want to ask him again, yet. But he might be more willing to tell you than you think. If he was planning on keeping his secrets forever, he wouldn't have agreed to stay here - there would be no point. His problems would still be there in two weeks when he goes back. The only reason he was so willing to stay is if he's working up the courage to talk about it with you, or waiting for you to drag it out of him."

"Why me? I don't have any special advice. And that doesn't explain why he was here in the first place. He wouldn't seek me out all the way in Boston."

"Maybe it's more important than you think. Maybe there is something you can tell him that no one else can."

"I don't know what to tell him!" She rubbed her forehead in frustration, trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of her mind. We have so much in common that Stephen doesn't even know about. But what could I have to say about both our impending deaths that could solve a problem between him and Wilson? Maybe it was a coincidence that he ended up in our ER. She knew House didn't believe in coincidences, but they did happen. "Maybe in the next week something will change."

**********

Remy said a quick prayer and steeled herself for what she might find before pushing open her apartment door after 10:00 that night. When she found the entryway free of carnage, she proceeded with caution another few steps. Into the living room, she discovered House asleep sitting up on the couch and "The L Word" on low volume flickering across the TV.

Pausing to see if he was really awake and just trying to avoid the slightly awkward situation of staying at her place, she saw his chest rising and falling evenly and was satisfied. She considered taking the easy way out and going to bed, leaving him to move to his room whenever he woke up, but her grumbling stomach reminded her she'd skipped not only dinner but lunch too. Finally kicking off her shoes, she flipped on the kitchen light and contemplated the contents of the refrigerator. Wonder what House had for dinner. The options were few, but she didn't notice anything missing. Probably Vicodin and beer, she thought, though the only beer she kept was a girly type and still a full six-pack on the bottom shelf.

Pulling out left-over stir fry from earlier in the week, she dumped half into a bowl, then changed her mind and put the whole container in the microwave. Maybe if House wakes up he'll want some real food. The microwave beeped, and she yanked open the door before it could make much noise, half hoping he would keep sleeping. Separating the meal into two dishes, she stuck a pair of chopsticks in each and walked back into the living room. Taking a seat in the chair next to the couch, she settled both their bowls on the coffee table and reached to take the remote from its place next to House. Just as she flipped the channel, he began to stir.

Remy glanced over and caught the moment in which he woke up, when his face contorted slightly with the omnipresent pain. Rolling his shoulders, he reached to rub his leg even as his eyes opened, and she realized she was staring. "Good morning," she deadpanned. "Breakfast?" He squinted at the dish, then reached for it without comment. Lucky he didn't consider that trying to control his diet.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, then Remy nodded to the TV. "L-Word marathon?"

He looked at it as if he hadn't realized it was on, then nodded. "I was bored," he said gruffly, looking almost embarrassed to be caught watching the show. Hmm. He used to act like every L-Word marathon was a national holiday. He would announce it as he was leaving work early, and make sure Wilson was planning to...oh. Touchy subject? Sure enough, he was already reaching for the remote.

Remy finished the last of her dinner just as he settled on a late-night talk show. "I'm going to turn in," she said. "Do you need anything?"

He shook his head. "No. Thanks," he grunted.

Then a thought occurred to her. "You only have one change of clothes," she reminded him. "What are you planning on wearing the next week?"

He mumbled something she couldn't hear. "What?"

"Knight in Shining Armor's got it covered," he said, only slightly louder. "Goodnight, Thirteen."

Getting the message that he didn't want to talk about it, she conceded. "Goodnight, House." Knight in Shining Armor's got it covered?

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