What Hapened in the End Chapter 5.
Title: What Happened in the End? Chapter 5.
Author: orange450
Pairing: House/Stacy
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Although this story takes place in the future, it was originally written in mid-S3, just after the Tritter arc. It contains some earlier canon references, but takes no account of canon from that point on.
Summary: It's a little over four years since House parted from Stacy in her office at PPTH during "Need to Know". Mark has died, and fate (in the form of Wilson) will place House and Stacy back in each other's orbit. Stacy has an adopted daughter, and House has a new puzzle to work on.
Disclaimer: Don't own them. Wish I did.
Notes: The action takes place four years out from the start of S3 (at the end of a mythical S6), and forms part of how I'd like to see the series end. It was written at a simpler time in the House-verse, and may feel somewhat dated after the S4 finale, but who knows what could happen in two years? I'm trying to make the chapters feel like they could be parts of episodes, and to keep the personalities as in-character as possible.
Eternal gratitude to sassydew for encouraging me to write this story 1.5 years ago. And also for explaining how to bring it over to LJ!
Chapter 5. Isabella
Stacy takes their plates over to the sink, and Greg is reminded of the day he did the dishes in this kitchen, more than four years ago. What a disaster that turned in to. He wonders whether he should help this time, but before he has a chance to decide, Stacy opens the door of her dishwasher.
“Reprieved,” he says. “I was going to offer to help.”
He isn’t so sure about that, but it sounds good.
“No need,” she answers, as she stacks the dishes. “Behold the solution to world peace. If everybody had one of these, there’d be no more war. I wish I’d discovered it sooner - I could have won the Nobel prize.”
He smiles appreciatively, remembering the endless arguments when Wilson stayed with him, and the lengths he had gone to avoid doing his share at the sink.
He thinks it’s time for him to get going so they walk outside, and he asks when her daughter gets back from school.
“She’ll be home in a few minutes. She goes to a bilingual pre-school in Trenton. Spanish-English. Mark spoke to her in Spanish. He thought she should keep her native language, and he was fluent from all his years working in the school system.”
Stacy pauses, and shakes her head. “She’s going to lose that now.”
“What about you?” he asks.
“I tried to learn, but it was hopeless. I could just about understand what they were saying, if they spoke slowly. It was their bonding thing - keeping secrets from me. It was cute.”
She laughs, and then sighs. “But Isabella felt sorry for me, and she would always come and tell me what the secrets were.”
From the expression on her face Greg figures that Mark probably came and told her too, but she’s not mentioning that. Isabella. That's her daughter's name.
The school bus pulls up at the end of the walk, and a little girl appears at the open door. Greg glances at Stacy who is looking at her daughter. Her smile is the kind you only give to someone you love effortlessly, and he’s conscious that for the moment she has forgotten his presence. It may have been Mark’s idea to adopt, but she’s into this kid. No question about that.
Isabella runs up the walk, shouting and waving a large piece of paper.
“Mama, your painting is dry! I brought it home for you!”
She stops in front of Stacy, and stands on tiptoe, stretching her head up as far as it will go. Stacy bends down to kiss her forehead.
Isabella looks at Greg who looks back at her.
“Greg, this is Isabella,” Stacy introduces. “Isabella, this is Dr. House”.
The little girl holds out her hand gravely. She is so formal that he has to resist an impulse to bow. He shakes her hand.
“Encantado,” he says.
Her face lights up as she turns to Stacy.
“Mama,” she exclaims, “does he speak Spanish?”
“Ask him.”
Isabella looks up at Greg.
“Habla usted Espanol?” she asks politely.
“Si,” he responds simply.
Isabella beams at him.
“Esta es su casa,” she invites, with a gesture towards the house.
Her gracious manner is funny in a five year old, and Greg has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Stacy sees this, and smiles too.
“She’s always been like this, we didn’t have to teach her. I guess it’s in the genes.”
Isabella gives Stacy the paper she’s been holding, and Greg takes it from her.
“Your painting, huh? Let’s see.”
He examines the large sheet of drawing paper, which is covered with wavy splashes of watercolor.
“Well. Rembrandt doesn’t have to worry any time soon. Picasso, on the other hand…”
Stacy takes it back from him.
“I think it’s good enough for my refrigerator, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and hang it up. You’re welcome to stay for some milk and cookies if you’d like. That’s what Isabella and I usually have when she comes home.”
He grins. Milk and cookies. She really is a different person. Whatever happened to the scotch on the rocks she used to like?
He has to get back to the hospital, so he thanks her for lunch and for letting him come. Stacy and Isabella both wave as he rides off, and Stacy lets out a sigh of relief that the visit is over.
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The next day, her phone rings. She hears a familiar voice on the other end.
“Hi Stacy, it’s Greg."
She closes her eyes for a moment, as the recollection of many phone calls that started like this rushes over her.
Why is he calling me? Did he forget something? She thinks that they got through yesterday as well as they could have, and she’s very glad he doesn’t resent her any more. She’s even surprised at how the sound of his voice affects her. But is it really a good idea to talk to him again?
“It was good to see you yesterday, and to meet Isabella,” he continues. “I was thinking maybe the two of you would like to do something with me this weekend?”
His voice is casual, and she is not to know how much soul searching this brief question has cost him. Should I see her again? Or should his visit have been the closure that both of them needed? Maybe he had needed it more than she did.
Shit, it’s no big deal. If he wants to do something with her and her kid, what’s the problem? He doesn’t have a million friends on hand, and she’s still easy to be with. Wilson was right about her mellowing out. Is this a stupid idea? He doesn't know why he's doing this. It's a stupid idea.
He’s so focused on his thoughts that he’s startled when she answers him.
“Sounds like fun,” she says. “What did you have in mind?”
“There’s a truck show in Camden I was planning to go to. On Saturday. Not too far from you. The food’ll be good, too.”
She smiles. Monster trucks and junk food. Greg’s perpetual idea of a really good time.
“Oh,” she says. “Not paintball?”
She sounds disappointed, and Greg is disconcerted.
“I don’t think Isabella would be allowed,” he says quickly, “and I figured you’d want to do something she’d like too.”
She laughs, and he realizes that he’s been had. She may be a different person, but some things never change. Damn her, why can she still do this to me?
“Monster trucks sound great, Greg," she reassures him. "Just remember that Isabella’s only five, so don’t be disappointed if she misses some of the finer points.”
TBC