Author's Note: I forgot to put the disclaimer here last time... don't sue! I do not own anything related to House. I do own the dog. :)
The apartment smelled of stale air and too many cleaning supplies. House started sneezing almost as soon as he got inside. He took his bag to his bedroom, dropping it onto the bed and moved to open the window a crack. It was cold outside but he needed to let some fresh air into the apartment. He put away his clothing and pulled the bedding off of his bed; it hadn't been changed since before he left for Mayfield. He had just finished stripping the mattress when he heard a knock at his door. He made his way there quickly, half hoping it would be Wilson coming to check on him. The oncologist had barely said three words to him since he'd asked him to move out.
House was surprised to find the young woman from the sidewalk standing there.
"Oh, it's you," she said when she saw him, clearly just as surprised. "I didn't know you lived here."
"I'm moving back in," House said, and then wondered why he told her that. It was none of her business.
"Well, this was in my mail-box and I just wanted to give it to you." She handed House an envelope addressed to him. "I live across the hall, in apartment A. I'm Sarah Kelly." She held out her hand. House took it after a second's pause, mindful of Nolan's instructions to meet someone new. Her handshake was firm, warm and dry.
"Greg House," he said, and mentally kicked himself. She knew his name; it was on the envelope she was delivering. "Your dog cooperated for the return trip?"
"Yes," laughed Sarah. "She runs all the way when we go to the park. I think she's convinced that other dogs will suck up all the good smells before she gets there." House nodded, unsure how to respond. He wasn't good at small talk.
"Well, thank you for the mail," he said after an awkward pause.
"Thank you for the save," she replied. "Have a good night." She smiled at him one more time before turning to go back across the hall to her apartment. House watched her open the door. She turned on the threshold and glanced back, her eyes widening when she saw that he was watching her. He felt his face flush and swiftly closed his door, returning to the bedroom.
"Hey, Brat," Sarah said, stepping over the baby-gate that she used to keep Maggie from reaching the front door. "Guess who our neighbor across the hall is? That's right – it's the nice man who kept you from getting run over tonight. He's moving back in. I still can't believe you did that. Where on earth did you think you were going?" Sarah continued to chatter to her dog as she gathered up her laundry. "Well, I'm off to the basement to start some laundry – just another exciting Friday night. You think I should order a pizza for dinner?" Sarah crammed as much laundry as she could into her basket and stepped carefully back over the gate. The little dog watched her every move. "I'll be back in a few minutes." Sarah stepped out of her apartment, balancing the basket on one hip while she locked the door behind her before making her way to the basement stairs. The elevator was, once again, out of order. Sarah couldn't remember a time in the three months she'd lived in the building when it had been working.
The laundry room was empty, as Sarah had expected. Most people in the building didn't choose to spend their Friday evenings doing laundry. She loaded two machines, started them up and returned to her apartment to order the pizza. There should be just enough time for the delivery to arrive before she'd have to go down and move her things to the dryer.
When House went to get clean sheets for his bed, he discovered that he had none. His other set of bedding was still wadded up in a pile on the floor of his closet. House sighed and gathered up both sets. It seemed he'd be spending his first night home down in the laundry room. He crammed his sheets and the rest of the laundry he found on the closet floor into a bag and went out into the hallway. The elevator was out of order and House sighed. He'd have to restart his running battle with the landlord about keeping it properly maintained. He made sure the laundry bag wasn't going to fall off his shoulder, hooked his cane over his left arm, and gripped the banister tightly with his right hand as he made the climb down to the basement. Two of the four machines were in use and House wondered who else was doing laundry on a Friday night. He loaded his bedding into one machine and some other clothing into the fourth. Then he realized that he'd left his detergent upstairs in his apartment. Growling in frustration at his own forgetfulness and the broken elevator, House trekked back upstairs to retrieve the detergent and then went back down the stairs to the laundry room. By the time he'd finished putting the soap in and starting up the machines, his leg was trembling. He planned to go back upstairs and stretch out on his couch while the washers ran. He hoped that would make his leg feel better. He had nearly reached the laundry room door when it swung open and he jumped back to avoid being hit. His thigh cramped up at that point and he staggered on his good leg to lean against the back of a dryer, dropping his cane and gasping at the pain.
"Did I get you?" asked a concerned voice and House looked up to see the woman with the dog.
"You missed," he hissed, rubbing desperately at the leg. The woman looked at him for a second, then moved across the room, returning with a folding chair which she set up.
"Here, sit down," she said, reaching out to help him. He shied away from her, managing to drop into the chair on his own. He moved his other hand down to join in the efforts at cramp-relief.
"Thanks," he managed.
"No problem." The young woman stepped over to the two washing machines, which had just finished and started to shift the wet clothing into dryers. "I was a swimmer when I was a kid. Sometimes in practice we would get these cramps in our feet, from pointing our toes. My father told me once that if I pinched my upper lip it would make the cramp go away."
"Really."
"Yeah," she said, ignoring the sneering in his tone. "I was never sure if it worked because there really was a nerve there or if it was just that feeling ridiculous about sitting on the side of the pool pinching my lip distracted me." She laughed lightly and looked back over at House.
"I'll keep it in mind," he said. She started toward the door and then stopped, looking back at him.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" House was prepared to snap at her to leave him alone but he remembered that Nolan wanted him to try to connect with someone new. She was new, she was pretty, and he appreciated the way she'd handled this incident so far. She hadn't made a fuss.
"It's better," he said. "I'm going to go back upstairs."
"Ok. I'll walk up with you." She picked up his cane from the floor and held it out to him. He took it from her and got carefully to his feet. The leg was still shaky but he thought it would hold. When they reached the staircase, House again hooked his cane over his left arm and reached out to grip the banister with his right hand.
"You'd better go up first," he said. "Don't want to knock you down if I fall."
"I'll walk beside you," she said calmly. They made their way up the stairs, fortunately not meeting anyone else since together they blocked the narrow stairway. They reached the center of the hallway between their two apartments and House found himself wondering what to say to her. Thank yous didn't come easily for him.
"See you later," he said, and started toward his door.
"Sure," she replied easily, moving to her own door. As she opened it a pounding piano riff came pouring out, joined by horns a second later. House paused, intrigued. The music reminded him of songs from the 1940s yet it wasn't quite the same. She sensed his hesitation and looked back at him.
"What is that?" he asked, unable to resist.
"It's a group called Big Bad Voodoo Daddy," she said. "You want to come in for a minute?" House hesitated for a second, but the music was pulling at him. He wanted to hear more.
"Ok," he said, and limped toward her.
Inside the apartment, Sarah waited for her neighbor to get inside and close the door. Once he had she moved aside the baby gate and Maggie charged toward them, her tail wagging as she barked in joy. She saw the man hesitate and hastened to reassure him.
"She's just excited to have company. If you sit down, you'll wind up with her in your lap." He nodded, moving slowly into the apartment. She saw his blue eyes sweep his surroundings, taking in the whole room, and followed his gaze wondering what he thought. She was fond of her living room. She'd painted the walls in eggshell, and the floor was natural oak. Her sofa and chairs were off-white, but she'd added color with bright throw pillows. There were bookcases along the wall that adjoined the exterior hall, save for a gap in the middle where her tv and stereo were. She had a writing desk over by the windows where her computer sat. Maggie hadn't dug out all of her toys from the toy box under an end table so the room was fairly tidy.
After his survey was complete, her neighbor made his way carefully toward her sofa, the dog following behind him, tail still wagging. Sure enough, as soon as he settled onto the couch, Maggie leapt up beside him and put her front feet onto his good leg. He rubbed her ears hesitantly and her tail wagged even faster while her tongue stretched out toward his face. A smile flickered across his face for a moment and Sarah felt herself smile too. The music changed, and she dropped onto the sofa arm to watch him. He still had the small smile on his face, and the fingers on his right hand moved. It took her a moment to recognize the movement; it was as if he had a keyboard there. He relaxed further into the sofa, absorbed in the music. His grin broadened as the singer started. "I don't wanna fight Jack, but you ain't never right, You know you wrong," went the refrain. When the song ended, the man looked back up at her, his smile fading.
"Do you always invite strangers in to your apartment?" he asked. "I could be an axe murderer or something."
"So could I," replied Sarah with a shrug.
"You figure since your dog likes me I must be ok." Sarah threw her head back and laughed.
"Maggie likes everyone." She slipped off the couch arm and started toward the kitchen. "Have you had dinner yet? I've got a pizza in the oven." She heard him get up from the couch as she stepped into the kitchen and then the thump of his cane as he followed her. He stopped in the doorway as she pulled the pizza box out of the oven.
"Meat lovers?" he asked hopefully.
"Supreme, plus black olives." She set the box on the table and moved to a cabinet to get plates before moving to the refrigerator "What do you want to drink? I have Coke, lemonade, water…"
"I'll have a Coke," he said. She pulled out two cans and carried them to the table. He joined her there. They sat down, opening their drinks and reaching for slices of pizza. Sarah glanced at the clock, noting that his laundry would be ready to go into the dyers in another twenty minutes. She wondered if she should offer to go down and move it for him. Would he find that insulting? How much help was too much? He was obviously prickly about the leg, and about accepting help, yet here he was eating her pizza.
They ate in silence. Sarah was surprised when she realized that she didn't feel awkward. It was refreshing, not having to make small talk. When the pizza was gone, she shoved her plate away, feeling no rush to clean up. Her guest shifted in his chair and she sensed that the silence was about to end.
"I should move my laundry," he said, but he didn't move from the chair.
"Ok." Again Sarah wondered if she should offer to help.
"I… thanks for the pizza, and the music."
"Sure," she said, then took a breath and plunged on. "Look, I don't want to be insulting or offend you or anything but if you're going back down those stairs I think I'd better go with you."
"I'm fine," he protested, bristling.
"I don't want to find you lying down there when I go to get my own laundry." She tried to make it sound like a joke, but she really wasn't kidding. She'd seen how hard it was for him to stand earlier and she could see him taking a tumble down the staircase. He opened his mouth and she fully expected him to protest again. After a second he closed it and she could see him swallow.
"Fine," he said after another moment. He stood up slowly and she followed suit. He glanced at the pizza box and plates.
"I'll get these later," she said.
"Mm." He led the way out of the kitchen and back toward the apartment door. Maggie was lying on the couch and she lifted her head, her tail starting to wag as she saw him.
"I'll be back in a few minutes," Sarah told her dog. "Let me get the gate up before you open the door, ok?" Her guest waited while she set up the gate and then he opened the apartment door. She followed him out, locking it behind her, and they made their way toward the stairs. Once more she made her way down the staircase at his side.
He stopped just inside the laundry room door, his hand dropping to his thigh. She looked at him for a second, then moved over to the washing machines and started moving his laundry into dryers. He hobbled to the folding chair, still sitting where she'd put it and dropped into it. She glanced over at him as she transferred an armload of laundry. He was staring down at the floor and she felt a pang. Was she doing the wrong thing here, helping him? She didn't want to make him feel bad but she really had worried about him going down the stairs alone. She moved the last of the laundry over and started the dryers, feeing in quarters from her pockets without thinking. She looked at her own machines and saw there was another half-hour to go on her loads.
"All set," she said, but he didn't move. She stepped around the dryers to stand in front of him, leaning against the back of a machine and waiting. He seemed to be thinking hard.
"What do I owe you?" he asked, and she was confused. "For the machines. And my share of the pizza."
"Oh. One dollar for the dryers. Don't worry about the pizza." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, rummaging inside it before holding out a twenty-dollar bill. She shook her head at him. "Seriously, you don't need to worry about the pizza. I ordered it for myself."
"You can give me change back," he replied and for a second she thought he was angry. "My friends …. People who know me would tell you to let me pay you back. It's not an offer I make often." He looked up at her, not quite managing to hide a grimace. Was it his leg bothering him, or was there something else bothering him? What was the story behind his mid-sentence change from "friends" to "people who know me?" There were so many pitfalls to avoid here and Sarah wasn't sure that she was mentally agile enough to avoid them all.
