Just so you're fairly warned...we're heading into a fairly long stretch of non-House content. I promise it's all leadng somewhere, and I hope you'll be able to stick with it. :)

# # #

October 2009, Ann Arbor, Michigan

My eyes drift open when the morning light streams into my bedroom. It was so late by the time I arrived home from the conference that I barely managed to change clothes and stumble into bed. Fortunately, I had the foresight to request a vacation day for today to make some attempt to rest and recover.

It's a lovely morning, if a bit chilly. If I were still a regular runner, I would have no qualms about suiting up and heading out for an easy three or four miles. As it is, it's been months since I've laced up a pair of running shoes. I'm not sure I could manage a mile anymore, let alone three or four.

I let out a heavy sigh and push myself out of bed, painfully aware of the silence that greets me as I make my way downstairs to start a pot of coffee. At this hour, Kenneth would have long since headed to work, and I would already be in my office starting my day. In theory, the quiet house shouldn't be a big deal.

Except that it is. There was no one to curl up to when I climbed into bed late last night, no one to wake me up this morning. It's just me and the coffeemaker, and quite frankly, the coffeemaker isn't the greatest conversationalist.

I pour myself a cup of coffee and pad into the living room to turn on the TV. Forty-five degrees and sunny, according to the local news, and the idea of a run starts to sound even more appealing.

I finish off my coffee and head upstairs to find my shoes. When I do find them, I'm a bit appalled at their condition. As tempting as it is to throw them on and run anyway, I know better. I can't get away with running in beat up shoes anymore. I'm too old and too out of shape for that. It appears a trip to the local running store is in order.

An hour later I'm in Running Fit, surrounded by at least ten boxes of running shoes, debating the merits of each pair. Kenneth was always alternately amused and exasperated by my obsession with finding the perfect shoe.

"Is there anything I can assist you with?" The clerk returns to check on me, flashing me a warm smile. Bless his heart, he seems to have unlimited patience with me.

I let out a long sigh. "I'm torn between the Asics and the Nikes."

He nods. "They're both great shoes. I'm an Asics man myself."

"I've been in Nikes almost since I started running." I tell him.

"Oh yeah?" He sits down on the stool, regarding me with great interest. "How long's that been?"

"Off and on since the early 80s. More off than on lately."

"Seriously?" The clerk's eyes widen. "You must have been really young when you started."

"Not that young." I laugh. "I was in college."

The clerk nods and starts to collecting the boxes of shoes that surround me. "Guys like you are a real inspiration, you know? I hope I'm still running when I'm your age."

I groan internally. I want to protest, to tell him that I'm not all that old. I don't turn fifty until December. Then again, he's probably at least half my age, if not younger.

I try on both pairs of shoes again, taking each pair out for a quick test run outside. I always feel a little silly trotting up and down the sidewalk outside the store, but for me it's the only way to tell if I'm taking the right shoe home. Heaven forbid I get stuck with the wrong shoe. It's something Kenneth never quite understood, no matter how much I tried to explain it.

When I return from my test run, the manager is standing in the doorway, arms folded over his chest, an amused expression on his face. "Make a decision yet?"

I can feel the heat rising to my face as he looks me up and down. He's not a bad looking man, tall and lean, with dark brown hair and eyes to match. I've dealt with him more than a few times over the years, but never given him so much as a second glance.

I stare down at my feet to avoid his gaze, glancing at the Nike on the left and the Asics on the right. "It's a tough decision." I mumble.

The manager laughs a little. "True. They're both excellent shoes."

I engage in a bit of internal debate before finally coming to a decision. "I think maybe I'll take them both."

The manager nods. "Sounds like a good plan. That way you can rotate them."

It's my turn to laugh a little, and I gesture to myself. "I definitely don't run enough to rotate anything."

"Hey, it's your money." The manager smiles and shrugs at me. "Justify it any way you want."

I smile a little in response. "How about…one pair for work, and the other for running."

"That could work, too." The manager steps aside slightly and gestures for me to enter ahead of him.

He follows me back to where I was trying on the shoes, and I change back into the beaten pair, placing both the new shoes in their respective boxes. I can't help but feel a little embarrassed at the other shoeboxes that are still sitting there.

The manager seems to understand as he greets the scene with a warm chuckle. "You're as bad about trying on shoes as I am."

"Well, I'd hate to take home the wrong ones." I feel my face heating up again.

"Indeed." He nods in agreement. "The wrong ones can make the shortest run a living hell."

He jerks his head toward the counter. "I'll start ringing these up for you."

I quickly follow him to the counter, where he scans in my purchases. He flashes me a quick smile. "Ready for the damage?"

"Never." I laugh.

He gives me the total, and I shake my head as I hand him my debit card. I can't remember the last time I spent so much on running shoes. Kenneth would have had my head if he'd known.

"Sign here Mister…sorry, Doctor Morris." He hands me the receipt, and I sign it before handing it back to him. He gives me another warm smile as he completes the transaction and sticks my receipt in the bag and hands it off over the counter. "You know, we do group runs here on Mondays at six thirty and Thursdays at six fifteen. We always love seeing new faces."

"I'll keep that in mind." I tell him. "Maybe in a few weeks when I'm back in a little better shape. Wouldn't want to hold up anyone's progress."

"Oh, we have all paces." He explains to me. "No one gets left behind."

"Well…thank you…" I squint slightly at his name tag.

He looks a little baffled, then looks down with a laugh before looking up and extending a hand. "Sean."

"Julian." I blurt out, extending my hand in return.

He grasps it firmly, long fingers wrapping around my hand, and I can feel my heart rate speed up a little. "Very nice to meet you, Julian. I hope you'll join us on a group run. Maybe tonight?"

My face is on fire again. "We'll see." I mumble.

I quickly turn and leave the store, scolding myself for the feelings that rush through me. It's utterly illogical, I tell myself. He's too young and I'm far too vulnerable for anything to happen. Besides, with my luck, he's probably straight.

I decide that I'm definitely not going on that group run tonight. I've always preferred to run alone anyway. It's better for me to find my groove again before I start thinking about joining a group. Yes, definitely. It has nothing to do with the possibility of running into Sean. Not at all.

# # #

I find myself back at Running Fit that evening, dressed in a long sleeved wicking shirt, a pair of shorts, and my new Nikes. The crowd isn't huge, but it's large enough that I could probably lose myself without too much difficulty. I tell myself that this is a far better alternative to spending another lonely night with the TV. After all, wasn't this the whole reason I had blown all that money on new running shoes? Why buy them if I wasn't going to use them?

"You made it!" Sean's cheerful voice nearly makes me jump out of my skin.

"Looks that way." I answer, glancing over at him. He's even better built than I thought, long, lightly muscular legs poking out of black shorts, topped with a gray t-shirt. "Aren't you cold?"

He flashes me a quick grin. "I won't be once we get going. Are you taking the three mile option tonight?"

"Probably my best bet." I nod in response. "It's been a few months since I've gotten out."

"Excellent. I'll be glad for the company. I did eighteen yesterday. Kind of feeling it today."

"I can well imagine." Of course he's a marathon runner. How could he not be? I feel like an absolute lump next to him. "I'll warn you, I'm going to be slow."

"Slow is good." Sean answers. "Gives us some time to chat."

I can't imagine what Sean could possibly want to chat with me about. I can't imagine what I could possibly have to say to him. Truthfully, I just want to get a halfway decent run in tonight. I don't have the heart to tell him that, however. Instead I simply nod. "Sounds good."

The group starts off, almost immediately breaking down into the natural cliques each group seems to develop, and eventually it's just me and Sean bringing up the rear.

"Told you I'd slow you down." I pant, attempting to find my pace.

"And I told you no one gets left behind." Sean counters, running so smoothly it's as if he's barely moving. "Besides, this is a perfectly good recovery pace for me."

We run on for a few minutes in silence before he breaks it again. "So I know you're a doctor. Tell me more."

"Head of orthopedics over at University Hospital." I manage to get out. "Been with them since I graduated med school."

"You went to school here, too?"

"Undergrad and med school."

Sean seems to ponder this before speaking again. "Obviously you like it here, or you wouldn't have stayed around so long."

I have to admit he's right. Over the course of my undergrad and med school years, I'd fallen in love with this town. Of course, the fact that Kenneth was here had a lot to do with it, too. He'd shown me parts of this town that I'd never taken the time to explore.

"Turnaround's here." Sean's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. "Another mile and a half and it's coffee time."

"Coffee time?"

"There's a little coffee place down the street from the store." He explains. "A lot of people from the group gather up there after the run."

Honestly, I'd almost rather go home, but I'm starting to enjoy the company. Maybe a cup of coffee wouldn't hurt. It's not as if there's anything or anyone waiting for me at home.

The thought hurts a little, but I try to push it aside in favor of concentrating on my run. Left, right, repeat. One foot in front of the other. Inhale, exhale.

It's not working. Bits of memories start to push themselves to the front of my mind, memories of cold Saturday morning runs when Kenneth would greet me with a hot mug of coffee and a kiss, always suitably impressed with the distance of my runs.

I'll never have that again, and the thought angers me. The horrible disease that quietly ate its way through Kenneth's body took that away from me, and nothing will ever bring him back.

I stumble over something and pitch forward, landing hard on my hands and knees, the scraped skin already stinging. Two hands quickly land on my shoulders, and I can feel my body shaking, emotions rushing through me too quickly to make sense of them.

"That was quite a tumble." Sean speaks calmly, a note of concern in his voice. "Are you okay?"

I nearly lose it then. "No, I'm not okay. I'm too old for this. I never should have come out here." I take in a long gasp. "I should have left the shoes in the store."

Sean rubs at my shoulders in an attempt to comfort me, letting out a soft sigh. "Something tells me this is about more than a scraped knee." His hands brush across my shoulders as he rises to his feet. "We're just a few minutes from the store. We've got all kinds of first aid stuff there."

I want to protest, but I can't find my voice. Instead I simply nod and clamber to my feet, limping slightly.

Sean frowns at me, but doesn't say anything. We walk back to the store in silence, and he opens up the door to let us in.

I follow him to a back room, and he turns on the light. The back room is in fact a small office, a simple desk and chair crammed into the space.

"Have a seat." Sean gestures toward the chair, and I ease myself into it as Sean finds his first aid kit. I catch myself checking him out as he moves around, each leg muscle flexing in fluid motion.

A brief wave of guilt washes over me, almost as if I'm cheating on Kenneth. I have no right to check out anyone else, not when I still feel Kenneth's loss so acutely. Still, Sean is nice to look at. I suppose looking never hurt anything.

Sean rises from the first aid kit and turns toward me, bending down in front of me to tend to my skinned knees and hands. His touch is feather light, oddly soothing, and I find myself relaxing with a sigh. "This is so silly. I'm fine, really."

"I don't mind." Sean glances up at me with a little smile. "Happens to me all the time."

"You?" I laugh. "I don't believe it."

"Believe it." Sean replies. "I have a knack for finding every crack in the sidewalk with my toe." He rises and points to his own knees. "See? Nothing but a mess of scars."

I fail to find any flaws, so I decide to take his word for it. "I suppose we'll be a matched pair, then."

He chuckles a little and offers his hand. "I think I still owe you a post-run coffee, if you're still interested."

I should go home. God, I should go home. And yet, there's something about this man that makes me take his hand and allow him to pull me out of the chair. Suddenly we're face to face, his warm brown eyes boring into me, and I can't say no.

"Fine." I tell him, cursing the way my voice shakes. "But I'm buying my own coffee."

Sean laughs then, fine lines crinkling around his eyes. "Dutch it is, then."

We walk down the street to the nearby coffee shop, joining the other runners that have shown up. I feel a sense of camaraderie I haven't felt in ages, and I now feel better about my decision to come here with Sean.

After getting our coffees, we find a booth and settle in, an awkward silence falling over us. At least, it's awkward on my end. Sean seems completely at ease.

"I hope this doesn't scare you completely off group runs." He opens casually. "I thought it was going pretty well."

"It was." I agree, staring down into my coffee cup. "I just got…caught up in my thoughts."

"Must have been some serious thoughts."

"Very." I reply quietly. I don't quite know how to come out and say I was thinking a little too hard about Kenneth. "I…lost someone very close to me recently."

Sean's brow wrinkles in concern. "I'm sorry. I had no idea."

I laugh shortly. "It's not exactly a great conversation opener, is it?"

"No, I suppose not." Sean places his hand in the center of the table, close enough that I could reach out and take it if I wanted to. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"Not particularly." I realize how I sound. Snappish, closed off. I shake my head and take a sip of my coffee, feeling Sean's eyes on me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bite your head off."

"It's not that big a deal." Sean answers, leaning back against the bench seat, and I can see where his hair has curled a bit on the ends from sweat. It is, for lack of a better word, cute. He smiles at me, making himself even cuter. "Seems you've had a rather rough night. I hope this doesn't scare you off from future group runs."

I smile back in response. "I might be better off running in a group if I'm going to keep tripping over myself."

He smiles even wider at that. "Hey, if you need any scrapes, bumps, or bruises fixed up, I'm your guy." He shrugs and takes a long drink of his own coffee. "And even if you don't…maybe I'm your guy."

Sean's words throw me. He can't possibly be flirting with me. I must be imagining things.

I lean across the table in an attempt to be somewhat discreet. "I'm not looking for anyone right now."

"Okay." He nods, leaning across to look me in the eye. I'm instantly hooked again. I can't seem to look away.

"I'm serious." I tell him firmly, wrapping my hands around my coffee cup.

"Okay." Sean responds with equal firmness, his eyes crinkling slightly in amusement.

I quickly down the rest of my coffee and shift to scoot out of the booth. "Right. Well…thanks for the run."

"Of course." Sean nods and rises to join me. I'm a little unnerved at the idea. Maybe I've gotten the wrong impression about him. Maybe he's a stalker.

My mind races through several possible endings for this current scenario as he follows me out of the coffee shop and down the street. I huff somewhat irritably. "You don't have to walk me to my car. I'm fairly certain I can find it on my own."

Sean stops almost immediately, tilting his head to look at me. "Too much?"

"A little." I take a deep breath while I fiddle with my car keys.

"Sorry." He answers quietly, letting out a short sigh. After a brief pause he speaks again. "Look, I'm not hitting on you, okay? Not that I wouldn't under normal circumstances, but…"

Something is wrong with this guy. Why on earth would he ever consider hitting on me? I'm well aware that time and the stress of the last few months have taken their toll on me. These days I'm on no one's hot list.

"Anyway." Sean shakes his head, resting his hands on his hips. "I was trying for friendly, not creepy. I'm sorry if I came on too strong."

I relax a little. Maybe I'm overreacting. "No, no. You're fine. Really." I fumble my keys and drop them to the sidewalk, where they land with a heavy rattle and clang.

Sean leans forward and picks them up in graceful fingers, stepping toward me and pressing them in my hand, wrapping his other hand to envelop mine.

"Thursday at six fifteen." He tells me just before he steps away. "And possibly Friday around eight."

"There's no group run on Friday." I tell him, baffled.

Sean smiles as he backs away. "No, but there might be dinner. As friends, of course. Think about it."

I'm so stunned I can't answer. I stand rooted to my spot on the sidewalk, watching Sean turn and stride away, grace and elegance personified in a t-shirt and running shorts.

Finally I chide myself for my behavior. If Sean wants to be friends, there's nothing wrong with that. There's no sense in reading more into it.

I find myself thinking about getting together with him after all. Just as friends, of course. I know that I'm nowhere near ready for anything more.

I smile a little to myself as I briefly toss my keys and catch them in my hand. Friends are good. Who couldn't use more of those? I know I certainly can.

# # #

You know what to do here. Read and review.