What Happened in the End? Chapter 6.
Title: What Happened in the End? Chapter 6.
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 6. A Day Out with the Monster Trucks
Saturday morning is beautiful, and Stacy is packing a knapsack with supplies for their trip. A change of clothes for Isabella, a coloring book and crayons in case the monster trucks lose their fascination, and some healthier snacks than she suspects Greg will provide. She tucks a camera into one of the pockets, wondering if she’ll have the nerve to use it.
She laughs to herself. She doesn’t think Greg has spent much time in the company of a five year old. It will be an education for him. She thinks about trips to the bathroom, naptime, endless questions, sticky hugs and kisses. This is what her life is made of now, and she wouldn’t trade her life with Isabella for anyone else’s without her. But you’d have to be a parent to know how it feels, and she can’t imagine him ever sharing the perspective.
Greg arrives on his bike and comes to the front door, which is standing open. He’s holding his cane, which he didn’t have the day he came for lunch.
“Anybody home?” he calls inside.
Stacy and Isabella come downstairs to meet him.
“Buenos dias, Dr. House,” Isabella says shyly.
“No Corvette?” Stacy asks. She’s been looking forward to seeing it.
“Are you kidding? Those trucks would eat the ‘Vette alive. It would be like sending a Pekinese out with the pit bulls. We’ll go in your car.”
Greg notices that Isabella looks a little nervous at the idea of trucks that eat things.
“No te preocupes,” he tells her. “The trucks won’t be hungry today. Too much pizza and ice cream at the show.”
Isabella realizes that he’s joking. “Okay, Dr. House,” she giggles.
He turns to Stacy.
“Makes me feel like she’s asking me for a consult when she says ‘Dr. House’,” he complains. “Can’t she call me something else?”
“Would ‘Dr. Greg’ be okay?”
“Why not just plain ‘Greg’?” he suggests.
Stacy shakes her head.
“No,” she answers. “I’m teaching her not to use first names when she speaks to adults.” She smiles at him. “Do you qualify?”
He makes a face at her, but he’s secretly impressed. His mother taught him the same thing, a long time ago. Good manners. Pity they didn’t stick.
They go out to Stacy’s car. While she’s buckling Isabella into her booster seat in the back, Greg makes himself comfortable in the front, on the passenger side.
“I guess this means I’m driving, right?” Stacy asks, when she sees where Greg is sitting. He looks half asleep already, and she has to laugh. So much for being on best behavior.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let you get lost,” he tells her. “Just head for Camden and follow the signs to the show. Wake me when we get there.”
He isn’t serious, and - to Stacy’s surprise - they chat easily as they drive. He brings her up to date on his team, and tells her about some of his recent cases. He asks about her work schedule, and she describes a few of her more interesting clients. Isabella amuses herself quietly, and Greg almost forgets she’s there.
They arrive at the show. Greg uses his cane, although Stacy can see that he doesn’t limp as badly as he used to. She guesses that he only has to use it when he’ll be on his feet for a while, probably doesn’t need it indoors any more, and she’s glad she didn’t ask him about it earlier.
Greg begins to explain the trucks to Isabella, who is finding the giant wheels a little scary. They speak in rapid-fire Spanish and Stacy has trouble following the conversation. Isabella is asking lots of questions; Stacy hears the familiar ‘¿por que?’ which she hasn’t heard since Mark died.
No one can be more charming than Greg when he exerts himself, as she well knows, and Isabella has clearly fallen under his spell. Stacy feels a pang of mistrust. Can he be after something? Not the old stuff. Surely not after all this time. She’s ashamed of her suspicions. He's really been acting like a human being. But she’s met Greg before, and she’s got someone to protect now, someone who matters more than anyone else ever has. She can't help it - her guard is up, and if he ends by hurting Isabella’s feelings, she’ll kill him.
They've been walking along the more popular truck displays. Greg points out the newly designed Aftershock, and they approach Gravedigger, which is being exhibited in a prominent position.
Isabella holds up her hand to be taken, the way children do with adults they trust. He looks at her, then he takes it, and they go over to the truck. He lifts her up the ladder that leads into the cab, and she sits in the driver’s seat, grasping the huge steering wheel with both hands. Her smile of delight stretches from ear to ear.
Stacy is itching to use her camera, but she doesn’t want to freak him out taking pictures of her child as if this was some kind of family outing. He looks over his shoulder at her.
“Stacy, you got a camera?” he calls. “You don’t want to miss this!”
Typical Greg, she thinks, digging into her bag. Completely unpredictable. He takes the camera from her, and snaps the picture.
“We have a true aficionado here,” he announces, as he helps Isabella down. “Her taste will have to be carefully cultivated.”
He takes Isabella’s hand again, and strolls over to a refreshment stand. Stacy follows them.
“When you said her taste will have to be cultivated, I didn’t think you were talking about cotton candy,” she smiles.
“Let me guess," he says. "No junk food, right?”
She shrugs her shoulders apologetically.
“It figures. I see ‘em like you in the clinic all the time. Uptight older mothers, always too serious about everything - food, bedtime, manners. Why don’t you relax? Cut the kid some slack.”
He glances at her out of the corner of his eye to see how she takes this. He has to admit to himself that she looks anything but uptight, in her jeans and sweater, swinging her knapsack, with her hair ruffled up in the breeze. She looks as good as ever, maybe even better. Right now, even her annoyed expression looks good. At least it’s not that wary look that comes and goes in her eyes.
She’s muttering under her breath, and he urges her to speak up.
“Hey, if you’re going to insult me, at least let me get some benefit out of it.” He smirks at her. “I can’t hear you when you mumble.”
“Like you would know what an uptight older mother in the clinic looks like.” She turns up her nose at him. “Lisa tells me you’re never in the clinic often enough to see anything.”
“Touche. Here, have some of this.” He hands sticks of cotton candy to her and to Isabella, and takes one for himself. “Doctor’s orders. Good for whatever ails you.”
He’s forgotten how much fun it is to tease someone who always answers back.
TBC