This story was already written years ago...I've made some changes to update it, but the plot remains the same...including what's coming up in this chapter. I'm not going to change it even though it may ruffle some feathers...but don't get too scared...things happen quickly.

Chapter 27

Watching from Afar

Wilson walked up to her apartment and was a little mystified, the apartment building was one of those that poor, starving students try to rent. It was close to campus and PPTH, but it was run down and swarming with twenty-somethings. Answering the door, she greeted him with a big, "Hi, come on in!" Then she turned and chirped, "I need your help with my stuff."

When he walked in he looked around at the condition of the room, clearly shocked. She was drinking a diet coke and watching him inspect her surroundings. Kenna knew he didn't understand why she lived like this. She didn't either. It was just that wherever she went it never felt like home. The only time she had felt at home was when she had lived with House. Everything in her life felt temporary and that was fine with her. It meant that she didn't allow herself to grow too fond of anything because she knew it might not be there tomorrow.

"Do you need help unpacking?" he asked.

She giggled, "You know, maybe I need someone with a cattle prod to make me do it. I just use the place as storage and somewhere to sleep. My television isn't even hooked up. Come on, grab the six pack of diet coke and a couple of bags, I'll get the rest."

They loaded the car and drove to his loft. She unpacked the food in his kitchen and saw that he must like to cook because he had the kitchen of her dreams...every pan, skillet, utensil or appliance you could want to do your job. She took a few minutes to acclimate herself and then started the meal. Wilson threw her an apron and she smiled as he put one on too.

He asked, "Can I help?"

"I love a man who knows his way around a kitchen. Yeah, can you cut the mushrooms?"

"Your wish is my command." He pulled out a Kershaw Shun knife and began cleaning the mushrooms.

They talked about a lot of things, food, cooking, dairy farming and medicine. The dinner was ready an hour later. Wilson was impressed; it was absolutely delicious even if it wasn't kosher. He wondered if she knew he was Jewish or if it mattered?

"You took the ham out of your chicken...don't you like ham?"

"Actually I love ham, but I'm Jewish."

She started laughing, "Oh no! I am so sorry."

"No, I should have told you. Are you ok with that?"

"With you not eating the ham? Sure," she grinned.

"No, me being Jewish?"

She looked at him like he was insane. "Why wouldn't I be? I guess this means you'll be circumcised." She smiled up at him.

He laughed, "Is there any other kind these days?"

"Most of Europe doesn't circumcise. Greg isn't, you know. He was born just outside Holy Loch Naval Base in Dunoon, Scotland. His mom didn't make it back to the base in time and the British don't snip..."

"TMI."

She laughed and told Wilson that because House was her first, she thought all men's penises looked like his. After having sex with Doug, she thought he might be deformed so she eventually asked House if she should mention it to Doug. House howled for days. But she held her tongue and finished her meal. As it turned out, because of her time overseas, Kenna had probably been with more un-circumcised men than those that had been snipped.

They did the dishes together and had a few laughs and then sat down on the couch to finish their wine. Within minutes they were making their way into the bedroom. This time there were no interruptions. Wilson was as considerate in bed as Greg was, maybe not quite as exciting, but certainly more romantic about sex.

A little off his game, Wilson knew it was because he wondered if she was comparing him to House. He knew House was good in bed just from the remarks Stacy and Cuddy had made over the years, but he wasn't too worried, he had always been complemented on his skills in bed.

Kenna turned to him and wiggled her eyebrows. "That was great. I haven't felt that good in a long time."

Wilson wasn't concentrating on her words right now. After a second go, they lay in each other's arms and Kenna played with the hair on his chest. He couldn't resist asking, "What's going on with your apartment? You've been in Princeton several months."

"I'm really busy at work so I've just been using the apartment to sleep. I don't like to get too comfortable because I'm always moving. I don't buy too much in the way of furniture; that way I don't have to move it."

"That's actually pretty sad. Why do you keep moving? Any hospital in the world would let you stay forever."

"When I was a kid I never went anywhere, not even out of the county. It's hard to leave a dairy farm because the cows have to be milked twice a day. I felt like a prisoner—didn't socialize very much. I was weird, being that intelligent no one related to me, so I had no friends. Now I have friends and I have the ability to pick up and leave when I get bored and I get bored about every two to three years."

"So you move? But then, when you get there, you work so hard you don't have time to enjoy it."

She turned over so she could make eye contact. "Oh, I eventually find some time to explore my surroundings. It's not all work and no play."

"What are you working on right now?"

"I have so many projects but my favorite is the GDNF project."

"What is it?" he asked.

She looked at him, wanting to tell him everything, including her plan and why she needed the file, but decided she couldn't; she didn't really know James that well. "I can't tell you much...proprietary information, but it's about the potential analgesic effects of GDNF on nerves."

"Sounds promising."

"It's very promising."

The next day, despite Wilson's protests, Kenna went to work, although she promised to spend Saturday night with him. After work, she went home, cleaned up and then he picked her up for a movie. They came home after the movie, picked up some clothes at her apartment and then spent the night at Wilson's again. Wilson was captivated by her. Her life experiences were fascinating. Kenna was a real risk taker, something he wasn't. Whatever risks Wilson took were mostly due to his liaison with House, the ultimate risk taker. Before the leg infarction and subsequent surgery, House would drag Wilson on trips to raft, rock climb, surf, sky dive, just about anything that meant you could end up dead.

They started spending a lot of their free time together and half of Kenna's wardrobe ended up in Wilson's closet. Wilson felt guilty that he didn't have much time to spend with House who kept insisting Wilson bring in the leftovers when Kenna cooked. One night, Kenna looked as if she might cry when she ladled the food into the Tupperware for Wilson to take in the next day. Wilson hadn't told her that he was actually giving the leftovers to House, but she had caught Wilson buying a sandwich out of the vending machine from time to time. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who was eating the leftover food.

"What's wrong?" Wilson asked as he slid his arms around her waist.

"Nothing, just old memories coming back."

Wilson took the Tupperware in at lunch time and threw it on House's desk. Greedily grabbing the food, House pulled out a plastic fork and opened the container. A smile crossed his lips and he looked nostalgic. "Hmmm, this was one of my favorites, chicken and dumplings. It was the first thing she ever cooked for me." House threw it in the microwave and began heating it. Wilson realized now why Kenna had been so distant when she packed the food. Wilson felt awkward around House because of moments like this. It was clear to him how much House had cared about Kenna and it made Wilson feel guilty. House knew and loved every dish that Wilson brought him and sometimes when he would sit and eat, House would tell Wilson a story about Kenna and the food he was eating. It was clear how much the food triggered House's memories.

"Kenna wants you to come for dinner on Friday. We're having some of her staff over," Wilson announced one morning when he threw the left over spaghetti Bolognese.

House thought about it, "What is she making?"

"Beef Wellington."

"Cor...she knows how to get me there. Ok, what time?"

"7:00 p.m."

"I take it from seeing her apartment, it will be at yours."

"When did you see her apartment?"

"When we did the nasty on the living room floor...didn't she tell you? We meet there every Saturday and take our clothes off, rub up against each other and call each other dirty names. Boy that girl has a mouth on her, she swears like a sailor." Wilson wasn't taking the joke well and House could see he better explain. "I went over to get an exercise manual from her."

Wilson's shoulders relaxed, "I was going to ask if something was going on with your leg, you're walking a little better."

"I've been working out. Still hurts like hell."

Wilson nodded to acknowledge House's pain and then left.

Saturday, House showed up for the dinner in t-shirt and jeans. Everyone else was dressed in nice, but casual clothes. Kenna opened the door and he thrust flowers and a bottle of wine at her. Giving him a kiss on the cheek, she stepped aside so that he could enter.

"Thanks for inviting me."

"I knew you'd come for Beef Wellington, you're so predictable," she was snickering.

He smiled at her as if they shared something bittersweet.

"Sandy is here, go keep her company." Kenna announced.

House grimaced, "Oh God, this isn't a setup is it?"

Kenna laughed, "I'm not an idiot! I wouldn't fix you up with anyone I actually liked. No, Sandy's husband is in Afghanistan, so no political crap from you, do you hear?"

He frowned and nodded yes. Kenna went back into the kitchen and by 7:15 all the guests had arrived. Kenna put House by her telling Wilson, "You can't control him, but I can."

The dinner was going well and even the conversation was interesting. House told everyone stories about Wilson, including when Wilson sawed part way through his cane causing the cane to snap and House to tumble to the ground. Kenna roared at that one. No one else at the table found it funny because they didn't know House. Kenna looked around and realized that they were all thinking she was pretty callous. But then House said, "Kenna used to do cruel things to me too. She was my tenant and one day she got mad at me for something I did in..." He paused when he saw Kenna's eyes bulge. "Well, she got mad. She put sliver nitrate on a bar of soap. When I washed my hands, they turned a silver black; my cursing could be heard all over the neighborhood." The whole table laughed at that one.

Wilson asked, "My God, what did you do to get her so mad at you?"

Kenna went white and looked at House. Her eyes were begging him not to tell anyone that she had been upset because he had screwed her from behind and kept calling her his "little bitch." "I refused to take the trash out and it was trash day. She had to drag the cans to the curb in the snow and she wasn't happy."

Wilson had seen the exchange of looks and knew that House had been easy on her. That was a first; usually he went for the jugular no matter what the fallout. She was right, she could control him and that made Wilson nervous. If he behaved for Kenna then he must have residual feelings for her. By the end of dinner, House had seemed almost charming to everyone. The other guests were all from the university lab and knew little about House's true "charms." They didn't know they were in the presence of Lucifer himself. Kenna didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. When they lived together, House and Kenna had friends and when they were over he usually behaved. She didn't know just how mean and cruel he could be in situations like this. House had a hard time governing his caustic wit. After they all left, Kenna was in the kitchen with Wilson cleaning the dishes.

Wilson was almost accusatory, "He's different around you."

"Who?"

"House."

She stopped, thought about it, and shrugged. "He's always like that, isn't he?"

Wilson laughed, "No, if you hadn't been here he would have made fun of the cherry wine birthmark on Calvin—especially since it does look like a map of the United States. He would have criticized Janet for thinking Stephen King was a great writer and he would have told everyone what really made you mad enough to put silver nitrate on the soap."

Kenna looked at her feet and gave a little high pitched laugh.

Wilson asked her, "Do you want to tell me what made you so mad?"

"You don't want to know."

"Ok, fair enough. But you do have a calming effect on him. It's strange to see him actually laugh like he did tonight."

"James, where is this conversation going?"

He put a glass up in the cupboard and then turned around to her. "I think he's still very much in love with you."

Kenna threw the dishtowel on the counter and walked out of the kitchen.

Chasing after her, Wilson called out, "Kenna, don't get me wrong. I'm just making an observation; I'm not accusing you of anything."

Kenna looked at him and could see the question in his eyes. "What?"

"Are you in love with him?"

Was she? What did she feel when she saw him? Maybe a longing for the happiness they had, but did she long for him? Now when she saw House; it hurt to see the anger, bitterness, the pain and the desperation in his eyes. Did she love him? She didn't know but she knew she had to give Wilson a quick response. "No!" She chuckled nervously. "I care about him, but I don't love him."

Wilson exhaled. "Good, because I think I'm falling in love with you." He stopped waiting for her response.

Kenna pictured herself running from the apartment screaming, "Nooooooooo..." Instead she looked at him and said, "James, I'm a vagabond, don't fall in love with me. Please?"

He swallowed hard, "I take it that you don't love me."

"We've been going out six weeks. That's just too soon for me. And love? Each time I think I love a man it feels different. So I never know how to define love. I just know that I end up leaving them behind because they want more than I can give them. They want time, they want companionship, they want kids...they want, they want, they want."

He held up a hand. "Ok, I get it. I'll slow down. Let's go to bed, I do know that's one place we're on the same page."

"I'm up for that!" She screamed as she ran into the bedroom undressing.