An Opening Door 13/?
Title: An Opening Door 13/?
Words: Approx 2400
Rating : PG-13
Characters : House & Wilson, Cuddy
Contains : Slavery concepts
Summary : Slave AU. Wilson encounters a disabled cleaning slave at PPTH called Greg and becomes intrigued with him. An unlikely friendship forms between the two as Wilson tries to secure a better life for Greg.
Link to story on AO3 .
Previous Chapter
Wilson closed the door to Greg's room quietly and went back out to the living area to see what Cuddy was doing.
She had poured herself a glass of wine and was drinking that while keeping an eye on the dinner. The mess on the floor had been cleaned up.
"Is he okay?"
Wilson rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the tight muscles there. Greg’s dramatic reaction to meeting Cuddy had caught him completely off guard. "He's sleeping. He was very distressed so I gave him something to knock him out for a while. I'm sorry about..." he waved a hand, indicating the floor where Greg had been sick. "Thanks for cleaning it up."
Cuddy smiled ruefully. "It's not very flattering that was his reaction on seeing me for the first time in over twenty years."
"Speaking of which..." Wilson trailed off. Although he hadn't reacted quite like Greg it had still been a shock to him when Cuddy had appeared to recognise him. Given Greg's reaction to the name, and to her, Wilson had to think that she was right.
"If you've still got an appetite after all that let's salvage the dinner and I'll you about it."
They settled in comfortable chairs in the living room, their food on the coffee table. Wilson poured himself a glass of wine to match hers; he figured he might need it.
"I met him at Michigan. We met in a bookshop, had one date and then I never heard from him again. I found out a little while later that he'd been kicked out of med school."
Wilson felt a brief flare of ridiculous jealousy. "Must have been some date if you recognised him so quickly after all this time."
"Oh, believe me, once you've met Greg House there's no forgetting. Guy was a genius, and a total ass."
"A genius?"
"Yeah, he had a reputation even in med school. Streets ahead of everyone else in the class in medical knowledge, and a walking trivia library, but couldn't keep out of trouble. Hence the whole 'getting kicked out of med school' thing."
"So he didn't graduate?" Wilson couldn't quite get his head around the Greg Cuddy was describing. His Greg was bright; he'd seen evidence of that, but a genius and a troublemaker? Wilson had never met someone who was more docile and compliant than Greg. On the other hand he had landed up in prison somehow so maybe he really had changed that much.
"As I said I never heard from him again, but I know he did graduate and become a doctor. A few years later I heard what happened from a friend of a friend. He was doing a nephrology residency in California when he ran into trouble. There was a patient, a child. House thought he knew what was wrong with her, his boss disagreed. House decided to treat her anyway and the child died. The parents pressed charges and the hospital backed them up. House lost his license and was sentenced to two years in prison for manslaughter. That was the last I heard of him." She shook her head. "I can't believe Greg House is a slave - or that he survived as a slave for all this time."
"Something else must have happened. He was sentenced to twenty five years, according to the file I have on him, for a violent crime."
Cuddy took a forkful of her dinner and her eyes widened. "Hey, this is great."
"He's a really good cook - picked it up in no time, loves experimenting with stuff. I've never eaten so well."
"Figures. I told you the guy was a genius. You say he can’t remember anything from his past?"
"He remembers some things. He knew how to play the guitar; he just can't remember where he learned or who taught him. If he tries to remember, he... well, you saw what happened tonight although I've never seen him that bad before."
"I wonder if it was seeing me, or hearing his name that set him off?"
"Probably both, if he recognised you as well."
"So you don't know if he retains any medical knowledge?"
"He's never said anything, but he hasn't had much opportunity to show off any medical skills."
"It's such a waste. My source told me that he had quite the reputation at the hospital for diagnosing cases no-one else could. I guess he got arrogant and thought he knew best. Greg House and prison would not be a good mix. Guy hated rules and authority." She drained the rest of her drink. "Which is sort of ironic if you think about where he's ended up."
"Greg isn't like that at all now. I can barely get him to express an opinion about what he wants to watch on television. He's quiet and withdrawn. He's only just beginning to be a bit more relaxed around me and we've been living in the same apartment for weeks."
Cuddy shrugged. "I can assure you it is him. Do you want me to describe his birthmarks to you to prove it? He has one in quite an... intimate place."
Wilson didn't need her to do that. Greg's pre-sale report had made note of that unusual birthmark. The idea of Greg and Cuddy having a history together was still a little mindblowing. "Just the one 'date', you said?"
Cuddy laughed. "Don't tell me you're jealous that your slave had a one night stand with me twenty years ago? You've still got him beat anyway. You lasted a little longer than one 'date'. Maybe we can talk about a threesome when Greg is feeling a little better."
Wilson glared at her - he was pretty sure that Greg would agree to such a proposition, if only because he had no concept of withholding consent. Cuddy threw her hands up.
"Joke, Wilson. Just a joke."
"Not funny. Greg isn't... he'll pretty much do anything anybody said - he thinks he has to, and I guess he's not wrong. I'm trying to get him to be okay with the idea of making choices."
Cuddy reached out and touched his hand. "I know, Wilson. I told you - I've had dealings with slaves. I don't like the idea of Greg House being turned into one. I don't want to do anything to hurt him. One day I'd like to meet him again."
"Maybe when he wakes up tomorrow he'll be able to remember better."
"Maybe he doesn't want to remember. What he used to be, and everything he's lost."
Wilson had to agree there might be some truth in that. The few times Wilson had brought it up, Greg had seemed reluctant to even try and think about his past. Still, the events of tonight might have provided a catalyst.
They sat quietly for a few minutes, finishing off their food. Then Wilson cleared away their plates and Cuddy took out her computer so that they could work.
When she left two hours later she kissed Wilson gently on the cheek. "You're a good man, James. I'm glad someone is taking care of Greg. I just don't want you to be hurt by this. That slave isn't the man I knew - not anymore."
"I think he can be."
Greg woke up early the next morning. His head felt foggy and his mouth was dry. Drugged , he thought. Then, as he sat up, the evening before came back to him. Wilson's boss - Doctor Cuddy - had come for dinner. She appeared to recognise him and called him by name and he'd become violently sick. The name she had given him floated up in his mind and he pushed it away. He didn't want to disturb his still unsettled stomach. Similarly he didn't try to bring up a mental picture of Doctor Cuddy.
He couldn't forget what had happened though. She knew who he was. Who he had been. She might even know how he had become a slave. He didn't know if he wanted to know that.
Greg pushed back the blanket that covered him and got to his feet. He was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, only his shoes had been removed and placed neatly by his bed. He slipped those on and grabbed his cane. Wilson wouldn't be awake for another hour yet but he didn't want to stay in bed - he felt as unsettled as he had since his first days here.
In the kitchen he put the coffee on. He wasn't that fond of the taste but this morning he wanted one. He looked around and noticed that the kitchen had been cleaned up after the evening before. He'd failed in his duties there. Not only had he made a disgraceful mess on the floor, he also hadn't served up dinner for Doctor Wilson and his guest, or cleaned up afterwards. No doubt he had ruined the evening for both the doctors.
As he waited for the coffee to brew he emptied the dishwasher, putting away the dry dishes. Doctor Wilson must have started it going last night - another thing Greg had failed to do. He would clean the kitchen thoroughly today and see if there was anything additional Wilson wanted him to do to try and atone for his failures of the night before.
"Hey, you're awake."
Greg looked up, startled. Deep in thought he hadn't heard Wilson get up.
"How are you this morning? I was worried about you last night."
"I am very sorry, sir." Greg stood quietly, his head bowed.
"Nothing to be sorry about, it's not your fault somebody screwed you up so much that you react like that when you hear your own name." Wilson sounded angry. "They took something away from you they had no right to. Making you a slave is one thing, but taking away your memories, and your whole identity... that shouldn't happen to anyone, no matter what they've done."
Greg couldn't help flinching from the vehemence in Wilson's voice. He hadn't seen Wilson this angry before. Going over to the coffee pot he poured them both a cup of coffee and they sat at the stools at the kitchen counter to drink it.
Hoping to assuage some of Wilson's anger Greg apologized. "I am sorry if I woke you, sir."
"Will you stop apologizing? I'm not mad at you, you didn't do anything wrong." Wilson took a long sip of his coffee and sighed in appreciation. "I'm just glad you’re feeling better this morning - and not just so you can make me great coffee," he added with a wry grin.
Greg sipped his own coffee. It was strong and bitter but it cleared away the last of the fuzziness from whichever drug Wilson had given him.
"Did Doctor Cuddy tell you about me?" he asked when it seemed that Wilson wasn't going to volunteer the information. "About who I used to be? She recognised me didn't she? She knew me when I was free." He'd been a slave for so long that 'free' was a state that didn't even seem to apply to him anymore.
"She knew you briefly." Wilson looked at him, as if making up his mind and then nodded. "In medical school. You're a doctor."
A doctor. It wasn't as if he hadn't suspected that - ever since he had realised that he knew the medicine in Wilson's textbooks. Maybe before that really, when he had diagnosed his own infarction.
"You're not surprised." Wilson said, eyeing him.
Greg froze, trying to decide what to do. He stalled by putting a hand up to his temple and rubbing, as if the pain was coming back.
"Greg? It's okay - just tell me. Whatever it is, it's not a problem. Have you remembered something?" He leaned forward - eager for the answer.
Greg didn't want to lie to Wilson - not about this. He took a deep breath. "Sir, I've been reading your medical textbooks. When I realised that I understood them I suspected that I must have had some medical training. I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't have read them without your permission."
Wilson waved that away. "I told you to read anything you wanted. But... you've been reading them all along? Since you came here? Without even knowing that you used to be a doctor?"
Greg nodded slowly. "Yes, sir."
"That's great, Greg. That you're retained that knowledge is a good sign. And you don't get sick when you read them?"
"I get a headache sometimes. When I do I stop reading and do something else. It's become a little easier."
"Now that I know I can find you some more resources. You've missed twenty years of continuing education - medicine has changed a lot. What we need is a summary of all that. You need to study up. I can help, Maybe I can take you on a tour of the hospital - show you some of the new technology. We're a teaching hospital, you should be able to audit some classes. "
"Sir... ”Greg didn't know what to say. On the one hand what Wilson was proposing was exciting to him - he'd been struggling to study modern medical advancements on his own, having a qualified Doctor like Wilson to advise him would be very helpful. On the other hand - Wilson would be wasting his time. Greg would never use the knowledge. And he doubted that any medical school would allow him to attend classes. "Why would I do that? I'm a slave now, not a doctor."
"You won't always be a slave. Oh, I know it feels like it. But another six years and you can be freed. On the day it's legally possible I'll free you. You can start your life again."
Freed. Wilson was right - six years felt like another eternity. Anything could happen in six years. It was very likely that Wilson would no longer be his owner then - or would change his mind. Greg couldn't afford to hope - he couldn't afford to think of that sort of future.
"I don't know if you can regain your license, I'll look into that for you. But it's something to work towards, isn't it?"
Even if he could regain a medical license, Greg knew there was more to being a doctor than knowing the content of some textbooks. Whoever that man was who'd gone through medical school Greg was no longer him. He couldn't imagine doing what Wilson did, every day. The idea scared him deeply. He felt himself begin to tremble, his heartrate accelerated and a wave of anxiety crashed over him.
"Hey." He felt a hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing it. "Hey, calm down. Deep breaths, Greg."
Wilson watched him with concerned eyes as Greg took deep breaths and tried to steady himself. If he kept behaving like this Wilson would get annoyed at him.
"I'm sorry, Greg. I know it's a lot to take in. I didn't mean to push you. It's just something to think about, that's all - there's plenty of time." Wilson poured him another cup of coffee and Greg curled his hands around it gratefully.
"Thank you, sir." He drank the coffee and gradually felt calmer. Wilson sat next to him, just being there quietly and after a while Greg turned to him. "Do you... do you know why I...." He trailed off, his hand going up to his collar, not touching.
"Why you were enslaved?"
He nodded. "Yes."
"Cuddy heard that you got in trouble over some medical procedure - did something that wasn't authorised because you were trying to save your patient's life. She doesn't know the details - she heard it third hand. You were sentenced to a year or two in prison."
"A year or two," Greg said numbly. Did that equate to being made a slave for over twenty years?
"Something else must have happened - maybe while you were in prison. Cuddy didn't know what. Do you want me to try and find out? It shouldn't be hard. There must be some records somewhere."
Did he want to know what awful thing he had done? It sounded like he had thrown his medical career, and his freedom, away by not following instructions or procedure. Had he made an equally stupid mistake to throw the rest of his life away?
"I don't know, sir."
"How about I try and find out, and if you ever want to know you can ask me?"
He didn't want to think about this anymore and he gladly handed the responsibility over to Wilson. "Yes, sir. Please."
Wilson nodded and stood up, squeezing Greg's shoulder again. "You feeling okay? I have to get ready for work. There's a Board meeting I can't miss."
He nodded - he'd already taken up enough of Wilson's time. "Yes, sir. I'll start breakfast." He got up and picked up the dishes, glad to have some work to do.
When Wilson had left for work, with instructions for Greg to call him if he needed him for any reason, Greg picked up the guitar. Wilson had taken it to be tuned and repaired and then given it to him - saying that the world had lost no musical talent when he'd stopped playing and maybe Greg would make better use of it.
He sat by the window and played, quietly so as not to disturb their neighbours. He hadn't realised how much he had missed music until Wilson gave it back to him. The simple act of playing soothed his mind and his body.
After a while, feeling much calmer, he put the instrument away carefully and went to the kitchen. He had work to do.
Words: Approx 2400
Rating : PG-13
Characters : House & Wilson, Cuddy
Contains : Slavery concepts
Summary : Slave AU. Wilson encounters a disabled cleaning slave at PPTH called Greg and becomes intrigued with him. An unlikely friendship forms between the two as Wilson tries to secure a better life for Greg.
Link to story on AO3 .
Previous Chapter
Wilson closed the door to Greg's room quietly and went back out to the living area to see what Cuddy was doing.
She had poured herself a glass of wine and was drinking that while keeping an eye on the dinner. The mess on the floor had been cleaned up.
"Is he okay?"
Wilson rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the tight muscles there. Greg’s dramatic reaction to meeting Cuddy had caught him completely off guard. "He's sleeping. He was very distressed so I gave him something to knock him out for a while. I'm sorry about..." he waved a hand, indicating the floor where Greg had been sick. "Thanks for cleaning it up."
Cuddy smiled ruefully. "It's not very flattering that was his reaction on seeing me for the first time in over twenty years."
"Speaking of which..." Wilson trailed off. Although he hadn't reacted quite like Greg it had still been a shock to him when Cuddy had appeared to recognise him. Given Greg's reaction to the name, and to her, Wilson had to think that she was right.
"If you've still got an appetite after all that let's salvage the dinner and I'll you about it."
They settled in comfortable chairs in the living room, their food on the coffee table. Wilson poured himself a glass of wine to match hers; he figured he might need it.
"I met him at Michigan. We met in a bookshop, had one date and then I never heard from him again. I found out a little while later that he'd been kicked out of med school."
Wilson felt a brief flare of ridiculous jealousy. "Must have been some date if you recognised him so quickly after all this time."
"Oh, believe me, once you've met Greg House there's no forgetting. Guy was a genius, and a total ass."
"A genius?"
"Yeah, he had a reputation even in med school. Streets ahead of everyone else in the class in medical knowledge, and a walking trivia library, but couldn't keep out of trouble. Hence the whole 'getting kicked out of med school' thing."
"So he didn't graduate?" Wilson couldn't quite get his head around the Greg Cuddy was describing. His Greg was bright; he'd seen evidence of that, but a genius and a troublemaker? Wilson had never met someone who was more docile and compliant than Greg. On the other hand he had landed up in prison somehow so maybe he really had changed that much.
"As I said I never heard from him again, but I know he did graduate and become a doctor. A few years later I heard what happened from a friend of a friend. He was doing a nephrology residency in California when he ran into trouble. There was a patient, a child. House thought he knew what was wrong with her, his boss disagreed. House decided to treat her anyway and the child died. The parents pressed charges and the hospital backed them up. House lost his license and was sentenced to two years in prison for manslaughter. That was the last I heard of him." She shook her head. "I can't believe Greg House is a slave - or that he survived as a slave for all this time."
"Something else must have happened. He was sentenced to twenty five years, according to the file I have on him, for a violent crime."
Cuddy took a forkful of her dinner and her eyes widened. "Hey, this is great."
"He's a really good cook - picked it up in no time, loves experimenting with stuff. I've never eaten so well."
"Figures. I told you the guy was a genius. You say he can’t remember anything from his past?"
"He remembers some things. He knew how to play the guitar; he just can't remember where he learned or who taught him. If he tries to remember, he... well, you saw what happened tonight although I've never seen him that bad before."
"I wonder if it was seeing me, or hearing his name that set him off?"
"Probably both, if he recognised you as well."
"So you don't know if he retains any medical knowledge?"
"He's never said anything, but he hasn't had much opportunity to show off any medical skills."
"It's such a waste. My source told me that he had quite the reputation at the hospital for diagnosing cases no-one else could. I guess he got arrogant and thought he knew best. Greg House and prison would not be a good mix. Guy hated rules and authority." She drained the rest of her drink. "Which is sort of ironic if you think about where he's ended up."
"Greg isn't like that at all now. I can barely get him to express an opinion about what he wants to watch on television. He's quiet and withdrawn. He's only just beginning to be a bit more relaxed around me and we've been living in the same apartment for weeks."
Cuddy shrugged. "I can assure you it is him. Do you want me to describe his birthmarks to you to prove it? He has one in quite an... intimate place."
Wilson didn't need her to do that. Greg's pre-sale report had made note of that unusual birthmark. The idea of Greg and Cuddy having a history together was still a little mindblowing. "Just the one 'date', you said?"
Cuddy laughed. "Don't tell me you're jealous that your slave had a one night stand with me twenty years ago? You've still got him beat anyway. You lasted a little longer than one 'date'. Maybe we can talk about a threesome when Greg is feeling a little better."
Wilson glared at her - he was pretty sure that Greg would agree to such a proposition, if only because he had no concept of withholding consent. Cuddy threw her hands up.
"Joke, Wilson. Just a joke."
"Not funny. Greg isn't... he'll pretty much do anything anybody said - he thinks he has to, and I guess he's not wrong. I'm trying to get him to be okay with the idea of making choices."
Cuddy reached out and touched his hand. "I know, Wilson. I told you - I've had dealings with slaves. I don't like the idea of Greg House being turned into one. I don't want to do anything to hurt him. One day I'd like to meet him again."
"Maybe when he wakes up tomorrow he'll be able to remember better."
"Maybe he doesn't want to remember. What he used to be, and everything he's lost."
Wilson had to agree there might be some truth in that. The few times Wilson had brought it up, Greg had seemed reluctant to even try and think about his past. Still, the events of tonight might have provided a catalyst.
They sat quietly for a few minutes, finishing off their food. Then Wilson cleared away their plates and Cuddy took out her computer so that they could work.
When she left two hours later she kissed Wilson gently on the cheek. "You're a good man, James. I'm glad someone is taking care of Greg. I just don't want you to be hurt by this. That slave isn't the man I knew - not anymore."
"I think he can be."
Greg woke up early the next morning. His head felt foggy and his mouth was dry. Drugged , he thought. Then, as he sat up, the evening before came back to him. Wilson's boss - Doctor Cuddy - had come for dinner. She appeared to recognise him and called him by name and he'd become violently sick. The name she had given him floated up in his mind and he pushed it away. He didn't want to disturb his still unsettled stomach. Similarly he didn't try to bring up a mental picture of Doctor Cuddy.
He couldn't forget what had happened though. She knew who he was. Who he had been. She might even know how he had become a slave. He didn't know if he wanted to know that.
Greg pushed back the blanket that covered him and got to his feet. He was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, only his shoes had been removed and placed neatly by his bed. He slipped those on and grabbed his cane. Wilson wouldn't be awake for another hour yet but he didn't want to stay in bed - he felt as unsettled as he had since his first days here.
In the kitchen he put the coffee on. He wasn't that fond of the taste but this morning he wanted one. He looked around and noticed that the kitchen had been cleaned up after the evening before. He'd failed in his duties there. Not only had he made a disgraceful mess on the floor, he also hadn't served up dinner for Doctor Wilson and his guest, or cleaned up afterwards. No doubt he had ruined the evening for both the doctors.
As he waited for the coffee to brew he emptied the dishwasher, putting away the dry dishes. Doctor Wilson must have started it going last night - another thing Greg had failed to do. He would clean the kitchen thoroughly today and see if there was anything additional Wilson wanted him to do to try and atone for his failures of the night before.
"Hey, you're awake."
Greg looked up, startled. Deep in thought he hadn't heard Wilson get up.
"How are you this morning? I was worried about you last night."
"I am very sorry, sir." Greg stood quietly, his head bowed.
"Nothing to be sorry about, it's not your fault somebody screwed you up so much that you react like that when you hear your own name." Wilson sounded angry. "They took something away from you they had no right to. Making you a slave is one thing, but taking away your memories, and your whole identity... that shouldn't happen to anyone, no matter what they've done."
Greg couldn't help flinching from the vehemence in Wilson's voice. He hadn't seen Wilson this angry before. Going over to the coffee pot he poured them both a cup of coffee and they sat at the stools at the kitchen counter to drink it.
Hoping to assuage some of Wilson's anger Greg apologized. "I am sorry if I woke you, sir."
"Will you stop apologizing? I'm not mad at you, you didn't do anything wrong." Wilson took a long sip of his coffee and sighed in appreciation. "I'm just glad you’re feeling better this morning - and not just so you can make me great coffee," he added with a wry grin.
Greg sipped his own coffee. It was strong and bitter but it cleared away the last of the fuzziness from whichever drug Wilson had given him.
"Did Doctor Cuddy tell you about me?" he asked when it seemed that Wilson wasn't going to volunteer the information. "About who I used to be? She recognised me didn't she? She knew me when I was free." He'd been a slave for so long that 'free' was a state that didn't even seem to apply to him anymore.
"She knew you briefly." Wilson looked at him, as if making up his mind and then nodded. "In medical school. You're a doctor."
A doctor. It wasn't as if he hadn't suspected that - ever since he had realised that he knew the medicine in Wilson's textbooks. Maybe before that really, when he had diagnosed his own infarction.
"You're not surprised." Wilson said, eyeing him.
Greg froze, trying to decide what to do. He stalled by putting a hand up to his temple and rubbing, as if the pain was coming back.
"Greg? It's okay - just tell me. Whatever it is, it's not a problem. Have you remembered something?" He leaned forward - eager for the answer.
Greg didn't want to lie to Wilson - not about this. He took a deep breath. "Sir, I've been reading your medical textbooks. When I realised that I understood them I suspected that I must have had some medical training. I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't have read them without your permission."
Wilson waved that away. "I told you to read anything you wanted. But... you've been reading them all along? Since you came here? Without even knowing that you used to be a doctor?"
Greg nodded slowly. "Yes, sir."
"That's great, Greg. That you're retained that knowledge is a good sign. And you don't get sick when you read them?"
"I get a headache sometimes. When I do I stop reading and do something else. It's become a little easier."
"Now that I know I can find you some more resources. You've missed twenty years of continuing education - medicine has changed a lot. What we need is a summary of all that. You need to study up. I can help, Maybe I can take you on a tour of the hospital - show you some of the new technology. We're a teaching hospital, you should be able to audit some classes. "
"Sir... ”Greg didn't know what to say. On the one hand what Wilson was proposing was exciting to him - he'd been struggling to study modern medical advancements on his own, having a qualified Doctor like Wilson to advise him would be very helpful. On the other hand - Wilson would be wasting his time. Greg would never use the knowledge. And he doubted that any medical school would allow him to attend classes. "Why would I do that? I'm a slave now, not a doctor."
"You won't always be a slave. Oh, I know it feels like it. But another six years and you can be freed. On the day it's legally possible I'll free you. You can start your life again."
Freed. Wilson was right - six years felt like another eternity. Anything could happen in six years. It was very likely that Wilson would no longer be his owner then - or would change his mind. Greg couldn't afford to hope - he couldn't afford to think of that sort of future.
"I don't know if you can regain your license, I'll look into that for you. But it's something to work towards, isn't it?"
Even if he could regain a medical license, Greg knew there was more to being a doctor than knowing the content of some textbooks. Whoever that man was who'd gone through medical school Greg was no longer him. He couldn't imagine doing what Wilson did, every day. The idea scared him deeply. He felt himself begin to tremble, his heartrate accelerated and a wave of anxiety crashed over him.
"Hey." He felt a hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing it. "Hey, calm down. Deep breaths, Greg."
Wilson watched him with concerned eyes as Greg took deep breaths and tried to steady himself. If he kept behaving like this Wilson would get annoyed at him.
"I'm sorry, Greg. I know it's a lot to take in. I didn't mean to push you. It's just something to think about, that's all - there's plenty of time." Wilson poured him another cup of coffee and Greg curled his hands around it gratefully.
"Thank you, sir." He drank the coffee and gradually felt calmer. Wilson sat next to him, just being there quietly and after a while Greg turned to him. "Do you... do you know why I...." He trailed off, his hand going up to his collar, not touching.
"Why you were enslaved?"
He nodded. "Yes."
"Cuddy heard that you got in trouble over some medical procedure - did something that wasn't authorised because you were trying to save your patient's life. She doesn't know the details - she heard it third hand. You were sentenced to a year or two in prison."
"A year or two," Greg said numbly. Did that equate to being made a slave for over twenty years?
"Something else must have happened - maybe while you were in prison. Cuddy didn't know what. Do you want me to try and find out? It shouldn't be hard. There must be some records somewhere."
Did he want to know what awful thing he had done? It sounded like he had thrown his medical career, and his freedom, away by not following instructions or procedure. Had he made an equally stupid mistake to throw the rest of his life away?
"I don't know, sir."
"How about I try and find out, and if you ever want to know you can ask me?"
He didn't want to think about this anymore and he gladly handed the responsibility over to Wilson. "Yes, sir. Please."
Wilson nodded and stood up, squeezing Greg's shoulder again. "You feeling okay? I have to get ready for work. There's a Board meeting I can't miss."
He nodded - he'd already taken up enough of Wilson's time. "Yes, sir. I'll start breakfast." He got up and picked up the dishes, glad to have some work to do.
When Wilson had left for work, with instructions for Greg to call him if he needed him for any reason, Greg picked up the guitar. Wilson had taken it to be tuned and repaired and then given it to him - saying that the world had lost no musical talent when he'd stopped playing and maybe Greg would make better use of it.
He sat by the window and played, quietly so as not to disturb their neighbours. He hadn't realised how much he had missed music until Wilson gave it back to him. The simple act of playing soothed his mind and his body.
After a while, feeling much calmer, he put the instrument away carefully and went to the kitchen. He had work to do.