The two doctors sat quietly, resting, the fluids slowly dripping and reviving House. It was more than an hour before Wilson's pager went off, and they both jumped at the loud noise.

"She's out of surgery," he said, reading the message as he rose to the desk to make a call.

Before he could pick up the phone, there was a quiet knock on the door and Chase walked in wearing surgical scrubs.

"Thought I'd come give you the update in person," he said.

House didn't know how to feel about the fact that Chase had been part of the surgery on Jen. He was pleased, because he knew that Chase was good and he wanted that for Jen. But for some reason he was also embarrassed; his relationship – or non-relationship – with Jen was private and now Cameron had treated her in the ER and Chase had operated on her. He felt as if his privacy had been invaded.

Wilson gave House an odd look and House realised that with all those thoughts going on in his brain he'd just been staring at Chase, and hadn't said a word.

"Thanks Chase," Wilson said, jumping in to save him yet again. "How'd it go?"

Chase's eyes flicked to Wilson when he spoke, but he looked back to House to give his news.

"She's doing well. The stomach wound was pretty shallow and didn't do any major damage, although she might need some physical therapy because her inguinal ligament was damaged. We think it happened because he was trying to cut her panties off."

House stayed perfectly still, holding Chase's gaze steadily. The only sign he was listening was the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed.

"Her neck wound was more serious. It just nicked the carotid which was the only reason she didn't bleed out. She's stable now, but she's had a total of three units, one in the ER and two during surgery."

House nodded, as if Chase was giving an update on any other patient.

"I'm going down to see her sister now and tell her," Chase continued. "Want to come?"

"Not really, no." House began fiddling with the IV line in his arm and saw Chase's look of surprise as he noticed the infusion for the first time. "But I will. Wilson, help get this out of me."

After extracting House's hangover cure, the three of them made their way down to the recovery floor where House quickly spotted Sarah waiting anxiously on a sofa. She looked up and saw them making their way over to her and jumped to her feet.

She marched up to House and he could see her anger had in no way abated.

"Did I call you an asshole enough yet?" Her voice wasn't as loud as it had been on the street, but it still caused most of the people in the vicinity to turn around and look. An attractive blonde woman in blood-stained clothes screaming at a dishevelled man accompanied by two doctors was an interesting sight. House didn't normally care about stuff like that, but this time he really wished they didn't have an audience. "How dare you come here and think that helping her now is good enough. If you really cared you wouldn't…"

She suddenly broke off and pointed a shaky finger to his face. "Did I do that?"

"Uh, yeah, probably," he said, not sure what else to say, pressing his hand gently to his swelling eye.

"Oh." The anger on her face suddenly turned into grief and she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his chest.

Wilson looked ready to jump in and separate them before he heard her loud sobs.

"Oh my God, how could I have let this happen to Jen!" she cried.

House stood unmoving, feeling more uncomfortable than he could remember. Eventually he lifted one hand and started patting her on the back awkwardly.

"She's going to be okay, Sarah," he said, staring at Wilson and Chase alternately, his eyes pleading with one of them to intervene.

Before they could, Fiona came rushing out of the elevators and over to them. House gratefully handed the sobbing Sarah off to her friend and Chase invited them both to sit down.

With Sarah comforted by Fiona and both of them occupied by Chase, House stepped away and headed into the recovery area. He could pick Jen immediately, lying in the second bed from the right, the left side of her neck swaddled in gauze dressings.

He walked over and picked up her chart, reading through it somewhat pointlessly because it only reiterated what Chase had already told him. She was going to be fine. Sore for a while, and definitely scarred for life, but fine.

He put the chart down and stood staring at her, feeling helpless and guilty.

Chase walked in, one arm supportively on Sarah's shoulder.

Sarah stood still, seeming in shock at her sister's condition.

"Why don't you go home and change," Chase suggested to her quietly, motioning to her blood-stained top. "She won't be awake for a while yet. House will stay with her." He gave House a stern look, and House had the strange feeling of their positions having been reversed – after spending so long telling Chase what to do, now the shoe was on the other foot.

House was prepared for Sarah to object, to tell Chase that House was to never come near her or her sister again, but she just nodded mutely and let Chase lead her out of the room.


--

Before Sarah could leave, the police arrived and she, House and Wilson all had to be interviewed. By the time that had happened and Fiona had taken Sarah home to rest and change, Jen had been moved out of recovery and into a room on the third floor.

House told Wilson to go home, grateful for his assistance, but now needing to be alone. He guessed that being alone in a room with an unconscious woman would do.

He dozed in the chair next to her bed for a while, still slightly drunk and hung-over but feeling far better for Wilson's treatment. He woke up with a start, not sure how long he'd been asleep, and found Jen awake and staring at him.

"I didn't expect…" she said, her voice a croaky whisper.

"Don't talk," he said. "I know it's a cliché, but really, don't talk. You need to keep your neck still."

"What…?" she said, and he knew she was asking what happened.

"I told you, shut up." His words were harsh, but his tone was gentle. He got up with a groan and stretched out his leg, taking a few steps around the room to straighten out. It was also a help to turn his back to her for a few moments and gather his thoughts.

He turned back and perched on the edge of her bed, careful to be on the side away from her abdomen wound. He stopped himself just in time from reaching for one of her hands, remembering that they were bandaged from the cuts she'd sustained defending herself.

"Looks like Nick The Geek wasn't that harmless after all," he said.

Her eyes filled with tears and he saw that she tried to nod, flinching a little from either the bandaging or the pain.

"Does your neck hurt?" he asked. "Blink once for yes and twice for no."

She blinked once and looked scared. He realised that all his "no talking" instructions might have given her the wrong idea.

"You're fine," he said, "you're going to be perfectly fine. You'll be able to talk – just not right now while it's so soon after you had surgery."

He saw the look of relief in her eyes and then remembered that she'd blinked once to indicate yes, she was in pain.

"Do you need more pain relief?" he asked.

She blinked once.

He got up and adjusted the machine controlling her meds and then rounded to the end of her bed to make the appropriate notation on her chart. As he did so he began to talk, telling her about the surgery, her wounds, what would happen as she recovered, that she'd be as good as new in a couple of weeks.

He sat back down on the edge of the bed and looked back into her eyes, tears brimming at their edges. He remembered looking into those lovely brown eyes as they filled with passion and desire and care and wondered if he'd ever get to see that again.

"Do you remember it?" he asked.

She blinked three times.

"I figure that means 'sort of'."

She blinked once and a couple of tears finally spilled over and ran down her cheeks. He saw the question in her eyes.

"He didn't touch you with anything other than the knife," he said quietly, not entirely sure that was completely true, but it was true enough.

She closed her eyes and a look of relief flitted over her face. After a moment she looked at him again and raised her hand towards him, seeming surprised to find it wrapped in bandages. He circled her wrist with his fingers.

"You fought him off and your hand got cut," he explained. He began to rub his thumb up and down the inside of her wrist, not realising he was doing it until her saw her gaze drop to watch. He raised her wrist to his mouth and pressed his lips against her pulse point, not entirely sure what it was that compelled him to do it.

"I'm so sorry Jen. I was…should have…stopped him."

She blinked once. He wasn't entirely sure if it was a "yes" or if she was just blinking her tears away, but he figured it was time for him to go. She had every right to be as mad as hell with him, and he couldn't deal with that.

"I'll leave you. Sarah's going to be back soon." He began to rise from the bed.

"No." Her voice was so croaky he could barely make it out, but he had no trouble interpreting her attempt to sit up and grab him before he could leave. She gasped in pain and fell back.

"Don't be an idiot," he said, pressing down on the top of her arm. "Lie still."

"Don't go," she said, in a whisper so quiet it was almost no more than a breath. "Please."

He took a deep breath, wondering what to do. She'd just been through something traumatic and he could understand that she didn't want to be left alone. But he had no right to hang around her bedside like a family member, they weren't together. At least, he thought they weren't – but then they hadn't actually broken up, had they?

Making up his mind, he gave her a curt nod. "Just a minute. I'll be back in a minute."

He walked out, spoke to a nurse and then went to the bathroom. By the time he returned the nurse had done as he had asked and put a soft chair and footstool close by the bed.

He sat down heavily and lifted his leg up on the stool.

"I'll wait with you until Sarah arrives."

She smiled weakly and her eyes drifted closed. The additional morphine was probably kicking in about now, he thought. That was probably why she looked so relieved.


--

When Jen first woke up she felt disoriented, not entirely sure where she was or how she'd got there. But then she felt the itchy uncomfortableness of bandages on her neck, and a strange tightness in her belly. The feelings reminded her that she'd been hurt. She'd been hurt and she was in hospital and Greg had looked after her. He'd talked to her, told her what happened, but she couldn't quite recall the details…She did remember he'd told her she was going to be fine, perfectly fine: he'd said that a lot.

She cast her mind back, but the last thing she clearly remembered was swigging from the wine bottle at home with Sarah and Fiona before they'd gone out. Everything after that was a blank.

She opened her eyes and wasn't quite prepared for the sight that greeted her. Greg was lying in a chair next her, his legs propped up, asleep. Sarah was standing over him, her hands on her hips, staring at him with undisguised hatred.

Why Sarah would be looking at him that way was a puzzle to Jen. Greg had looked after her. Why would that make Sarah mad?

Then Greg opened his eyes and Jen could tell that seeing Sarah standing over him like that had startled him. He looked…no, Jen didn't believe it, but he actually looked scared. Maybe not scared. But guilty.

"Get out," Sarah said, her voice quiet but vicious.

"I'm going," Greg said compliantly – a tone Jen had certainly never heard from him – and he sat up and struggled to get his leg to the floor. Jen cringed a little on his behalf, she knew how difficult it could be for him some mornings if his leg seized up on him, and last night he'd been sleeping in a chair. He'd definitely be in pain.

"Sarah, I couldn't have known…" he began as he grabbed his cane and painfully rose to his feet. It was then that Jen noticed he had a black eye. Where had that come from?

"No? Really? Or were you just too drunk?" Sarah's voice was becoming more shrill. "Jen goes off into an alley with a guy and that seems perfectly normal to you? More than that – it seems like a spectator sport?"

"Well, she did it with me," he answered and Jen could tell he was making an effort to stay calm.

"What?"

"The first night I met her we went down an alley to a bar…"

"Hey," Jen whispered, trying to interrupt them. Her voice was croaky but it didn't hurt too much.

Neither of them took any notice of her.

"You were the reason she was there in the first place," Sarah argued. "If you weren't too stubborn to apologise, and knew how to treat her like a person instead of a maid, she wouldn't have been out picking up guys."

Jen knew that Sarah shouldn't have said that. She watched the dark clouds gather on Greg's face and knew that the storm was about to break. "Hey," she tried again, trying valiantly to get more volume into her voice, but still neither of them moved from their oppositional stances.

"I wasn't the one who dressed her up and took her out, Sarah, I think you'll find that was you. And wasn't it you who set her up with that guy anyway? So who's fault is this really?"

Jen could see that his barbs hit home as her sister swallowed hard and tears began welling in her eyes.

"You're the Friday-night-shag girl, Sarah," Greg continued. "I think it's just bizarre that this hasn't happened to you. Oh, but wait, it has, hasn't it? Only you got off easy."

"Stop it!" Jen mustered every ounce of energy she had to shout at them, and even then it was only a loud whisper, but it pulled them up in their tracks and they both turned to her.

"Jen!" Sarah was the first to recover from her shock and she took the couple of steps to the bed and leant over to pull her into a fierce hug.

"Ah!" Jen couldn't help crying out: Sarah had carefully avoided her neck, but she was leaning right on her stomach and her weight sent a shaft of pain shooting into Jen's gut.

"Get away," Greg said crossly, pulling on Sarah's arm. "Stupid woman, you're leaning on her abdomen wound." He blew out an annoyed breath. "Let me check you haven't done any damage."

Sarah pulled away and seemed even closer to tears. She backed away from the bed and stood mutely against the wall. It seemed to Jen that Sarah didn't mind arguing with Greg, but she wasn't going to take on Dr House.

Greg pulled the blankets away from her and lifted the light hospital gown up carelessly, exposing her from the tops of her thighs to her breasts. Jen realised she was completely naked, but he didn't seem to take any notice.

"This dressing needs changing anyway," he muttered to himself. He looked up at her and Jen couldn't read his expression. It was his poker face, impassive and as blank as her memory. "Let me get a nurse. Don't move."

He turned and walked out, returning quickly with a nurse who quickly re-positioned both the blankets and Jen's gown so only the necessary skin was exposed. Jen smiled at her gratefully. The nurse then removed the dressing and Greg checked her over, prodding her in a couple of places and leaning down to look at her wound closely. He nodded, seemingly satisfied and the nurse went to work replacing the dressing.

Greg picked up the chart from the end of her bed and made a few notations.

"Put her on three milligrams of gentamicin," he instructed the nurse without looking up. "Looks like there might be traces of infection – who knows where that knife had been."

He replaced the chart and glanced quickly at Sarah who was still standing against the wall, almost in shock. He looked back at Jen and she gave him a weak smile. As she was about to thank him, he turned and walked to the door. He opened it and then turned back to face her briefly.

"Look after yourself, Jen," he said, and then left without looking back.