An Opening Door 26/27
Title: An Opening Door 26/27
Words: Approx 3000
Rating : PG-13
Characters : House & Wilson, Cuddy
Contains : Slavery concepts
Warnings : : Choose Not to Warn
Summary : Slave AU. Wilson encounters a 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 cursed as he sat in traffic. Beside him his phone displayed the tracking app. A red border ran around the outside of the screen to alert him to the fact that Greg had left the boundaries Wilson had set for him. As if Wilson didn't know that. The app had also helpfully asked if Wilson would like to be connected to the authorities for help recapturing his straying slave. No, Wilson didn't. He was, in fact, terrified of those authorities being called on Greg.
Nobody should notice, he thought, it's not like you didn't see an occasional slave wandering the streets. Everybody assumes they are on an errand for their owner. As long as Greg didn't do anything stupid to bring attention to himself he should be fine until Wilson could catch up to him and take him back home.
Unfortunately Greg doing something stupid at this point seemed more likely than not.
He couldn't imagine why Greg had done this. True, Wilson had never specifically forbidden him from leaving the apartment building, but Greg knew as well as Wilson that it wasn't safe for him to do so. He'd never shown any inclination to wander off before. Even yesterday he'd only gone to the laundry room, and look how that had turned out.
Of course if the police did pick him up and contact Wilson he could always lie and say Greg was on errand for him. He'd probably get another lecture, and another fine, from that sergeant but nothing disastrous would happen. He hoped. He realised that he really didn't know everything he should about the legal provisions that applied to slaves. After today he'd make sure he was an expert.
He looked down at the app. Greg was still moving. He inched up to the car in front of him and then stopped again. They were going nowhere fast, there had to have been an accident up ahead. Every minute he lost here Greg was getting further away from him.
An eternity later he pulled up outside his apartment building and consulted the app. The little dot that represented Greg was still moving but the rate of progress had slowed. Greg had been walking for over half an hour now, he had to be getting tired. Even with the cane Wilson knew he still found it tiring to walk for too long, not to mention painful.
He set the app to give him driving instructions and pulled back out into the road. Several blocks later he spotted his quarry. Greg was moving slowly now, his weight hunched over his cane. He was wearing a long coat; the one Wilson had bought for him only a couple of weeks ago as the weather had started to turn cold. The collar of the coat was up, and Wilson could also detect a scarf. Greg was hiding his collar from casual sight. He wasn't carrying a bag which Wilson would have expected if Greg was making a genuine attempt to flee. Greg had to know that Wilson could easily trace him. Yet here he was, stubbornly walking away, head down in some futile attempt to... Wilson didn't know what exactly, prove a point maybe?
He drove past, slowing the car down deliberately to catch Greg's attention. Greg glanced up as the car passed him and for a moment their eyes met and then Greg abruptly changed direction, heading for a park on the corner. Wilson cursed and accelerated past him, searching for a place to park the car.
By the time he had parked up the dot on the screen had covered half of the park, heading for the other side. This was getting ridiculous. It was cold out; he didn't want to chase Greg on foot across half of Princeton.
His hand crept to the pocket of his jacket, where the collar control was. He took it out and stared at it. A little press of a button and Greg would feel a mild shock that might stop him - or at least make him reconsider what he was doing. It would be for his own good. It would give Wilson a chance to catch up to him. His finger lightly brushed the control.
He had a flash of memory, Greg on the ground after he'd fallen down a flight of stairs at PPTH. Wilson had been touching him when Greg's 'recall signal' had been sent to his collar. He'd felt that shock. Someone had casually pressed a button like the one Wilson had in his hand and shocked him, just to let him know it was time to go back to the truck. Greg was held captive by the collar around his neck, and he had never been allowed to forget it by those bastards. Wilson had promised never to use the collar against Greg and he wasn't about to break that promise.
He dropped the control back in his pocket, horrified at what he had almost done. His anger at Greg fled. This was what Greg had to contend with every day - the knowledge that Wilson could do something like that to him whenever he wanted, and Greg could do nothing about it.
He set out on foot, across the road to the entrance to the park. Greg was barely moving now, still in Wilson's sight. While Wilson watched he made it to a park bench and slumped down on it, his head down. On impulse Wilson stopped at the coffee shop next to the park and picked up two coffees and a bag of donuts. His eyes never left Greg while he was waiting for his order. He wanted to rush straight to him, and drag him back to the car, and safety, but he knew that they needed to talk, and talk seriously. Now that he was within sight of Greg there was less danger. If the police came - well, he was quite entitled to be out with 'his slave'. He could spare a few minutes.
He approached Greg quietly, slipping onto the bench next to him and offering him one of the coffees.
Greg looked up, startled. He took the offered coffee but stared at it quizzically.
"You were chasing an escaping slave, and you... stopped to pick up coffee?"
"And donuts." Wilson said, offering the bag.
"You don't watch a lot of cop shows do you?"
Wilson shrugged. "You weren't escaping, or even trying to. Not really." He took a long sip of his coffee, feeling the warmth go through him. "Besides, it's cold out. We could both use a coffee."
"Why aren't you mad at me? You were annoyed yesterday, and I just went down a couple of floors not across half of Princeton."
"I was mad." Wilson held the coffee between his palms, staring down at it. "I was furious at you for being so reckless. I didn't know what the hell you were thinking, doing this. I had to leave work early and chase you all over town."
"But you're not mad now?"
"Not really. I just want to understand what's happening with you. I have all the advantages here, I know that. I can't imagine what it must be like for you. I just wish you would talk to me about it. I'd like to help."
Greg shook his head, staring back at the ground. "That's what I don't understand. I don't get why you would do all of this for me. Everything you've done for me, and then I do this, and you still come back for more." He looked up, and Wilson was struck by the pain in his face. "Even when I was free I used to hurt people, all the time. I used to drive them away. But you - you can't be driven off. I don't get it. Why the fuck do you care? Why wouldn't you just sell me? Your life would be a lot easier."
"You're my friend, Greg. People don't sell their friends." He took a long sip of his coffee, letting that sink in. Greg had called him a friend before, but that was defending Wilson to Nolan - Wilson didn't know if he truly believed it - either then or now. He needed to reach Greg somehow, and let him know how important he was to Wilson.
"I had a brother," he said slowly. He hadn't told anyone about this in years, but Greg needed to know. "His name was Danny. He was a great kid, he was three years younger than me but we had a lot of good times. When he was a teenager he started suffering from schizophrenia. He got into college, but while I was in med school he started getting worse. He would call me at all hours and I'd have to try and talk him down. Then, one day, I just didn't have time to do that - so I didn't take his call. He ran away that night, and I never saw him again."
He stopped and took another sip of coffee. In the couple of years that Danny had been gone it had crossed his mind more than once that maybe he'd gotten into trouble and ended up in prison, maybe even become a slave. Now that he knew Greg he wondered if that would have been better or worse than what actually happened.
"Two years later I got a call from the police. They'd found Danny, sleeping rough on the streets. He was dead from an overdose." Wilson had identified the body. Danny had been almost unrecognisable from the happy kid he'd once been.
"I'm sorry," Greg said quietly.
"Yeah, me too." He sighed, Danny's death still weighed heavily on him. Over time he'd come to accept that he wasn't responsible, but it wasn't an experience he ever wanted to repeat. "Greg, I don't want to lose you too. You may make me mad sometimes, but I'm not going to give up on you. I don't want you to give up on me either, however angry I make you. I know this is difficult for you. If you are having problems, or if you're not happy about something, you need to talk to me. If I can help I will. But I can't help you if you won't talk to me."
"You haven't been around as much lately." Greg said, a touch of anger in his voice. "I'm going to be a slave for another five years. That's a long time, Wilson. What happens when you meet the next Mrs Wilson? Or take up with Lisa Cuddy again? Think they're going to want a slave in the household?"
"Well, first of all, I am not getting back together with Cuddy!" He supposed he had been seeing her a bit lately, mostly because he'd been avoiding going home - although he wasn't going to tell Greg that. "She's a friend, and my boss, that's all. When we split up it was mutual. If somebody else comes along," he shrugged. "We'll deal with that. Either way you're not going anywhere."
"You say that now."
"You're just going to have to take my word for it. There's nothing else I can do, unless you want me to sign a contract in blood or something. I mean, we can do that if you want. I haven't got a scalpel with me though."
The corner of Greg's mouth quirked up and Wilson relaxed slightly.
"Why did you take off like that? I mean, after yesterday, I thought..."
"That I'd become a dutiful little slave again?" Greg's anger was back. "Too scared to do anything that might upset you? Or your neighbours?" He drained the rest of his coffee, crushing the cup in his hand. "I could do that. It wouldn't be hard. After twenty years of mindless obedience it becomes pretty easy really. I could live in your gilded cage. But I had to see... I had to see what would happen if I didn't."
Wilson thought of how close he'd come to pressing the control button and felt a wave of relief. Whatever bizarre test Greg had been putting him through he'd passed. Otherwise Greg would never have stopped here.
He looked up suddenly, a police patrol car was stopped at the edge of the park and two uniformed officers were coming across the grass.
"Take the scarf off, Greg," he said urgently and Greg followed his gaze and did so, also putting down the collar of his shirt. Wilson shoved the scarf into the pocket of his own coat.
They both sat quietly as the officers approached and then, to Wilson's surprise, they went right past them without acknowledgement, heading for some kids hanging around on bikes near the playground.
"Come on, let's get out of here," Wilson said, standing up. Greg sat for a moment longer and Wilson was afraid he was going to refuse. He held out his hand and Greg looked at it for a beat before taking it and letting Wilson help him to his feet.
They walked back to the car as quickly as possible. It was getting dark and the temperature was falling rapidly. Wilson glanced back a time or two but there were no signs of pursuit by the police.
Once inside the vehicle he put the heater on and once Greg was settled he quickly started the car and pulled away from the kerb. When he looked over at Greg he was staring out of the window.
Wilson ordered Chinese for their dinner, and they ate it in their usual place, in front of the television.
"I didn't get a chance to thank you yesterday," Wilson said as he snagged the last shrimp.
"Thank me? For... doing the laundry?" Greg said, his expression incredulous.
"No. For cleaning the apartment, you did a great job."
"I'm a good slave," Greg said bitterly.
"No. We both live here, I hope we can share cooking and cleaning evenly. I won't treat you as a slave, but I do expect you to do your share," Wilson said evenly. "I'm not your slave, either."
Greg was silent for a moment, then he put down his chopsticks. "You've been very good to me. I do appreciate it, but..."
"You can be honest with me, Greg. I don't like how things have been between us lately."
"You never asked me if I wanted all this. Before you bought me." He waved a hand to indicate the apartment.
Wilson stared at him blankly. "You wanted to stay at Rent-A-Slave?"
"No, of course not. But you're always saying how you don't treat me as a slave - but it never occurred to you to ask me what I wanted." He looked down and away, one hand fidgeting with his cane. "You decided you wanted to 'rescue' me and you did. Just like today - you came after me and brought me back here."
Wilson considered that. He'd told Greg over and over again that he didn't think of him as a slave, that he didn't see him that way. But fundamentally he still did. Greg still wore a collar, and Wilson still had that control in his pocket. Greg couldn't go anywhere without Wilson knowing about it.
He'd spent the last few months campaigning to have PPTH become slave-free, and had done everything he could to make Greg's life easier and better. And yet he hadn't freed him, not really.
He took the control out of his pocket, aware of Greg's eyes on him. He carefully pressed a sequence of buttons, and Greg's eyes widened as he felt the lock on his collar release.
Wilson put the control down and turned it off. He pulled out his phone and deleted the app from it. Then he reached forward with his hand, not quite touching Greg.
"May I?"
Greg froze in place and then slowly leaned forward. Wilson felt for the clasp of the collar and took it off gently. He dropped it on the coffee table in front of them.
"You never have to wear that again unless you choose to," he said simply.
Greg stared at it, and then one hand went up to touch the bare skin of his neck. Wilson could see the years of callouses there, Greg would always bear the marks even if he never wore a collar again.
"I can't free you legally. But I won't make you wear a collar. Never again."
"When we go out..." Greg said, his eyes still riveted on the collar.
"It will be your choice, and your risk to take."
"It will be your risk too," Greg pointed out.
"Some risks are worth taking."
"I could escape."
"I hope you can last out the rest of your sentence. I want this to be your home for those five years. But if you want to leave - then again, that's your choice. I'm not going to keep you against your will. If you leave I won't come looking for you again."
Greg touched both collar and control. Then he picked them up and slipped them into his pocket, his hand shaking slightly. He sat back and continued to eat as if nothing had happened. But Wilson noticed that every now and then he touched that pocket.
When the show had finished, and the food had gone cold they both stood up and cleaned away the debris.
"Goodnight, Greg," Wilson said.
Greg transferred his cane to his left hand and held out his right for Wilson to shake. Their hands and eyes met and Greg smiled at him.
"Call me House," he said.
Words: Approx 3000
Rating : PG-13
Characters : House & Wilson, Cuddy
Contains : Slavery concepts
Warnings : : Choose Not to Warn
Summary : Slave AU. Wilson encounters a 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 cursed as he sat in traffic. Beside him his phone displayed the tracking app. A red border ran around the outside of the screen to alert him to the fact that Greg had left the boundaries Wilson had set for him. As if Wilson didn't know that. The app had also helpfully asked if Wilson would like to be connected to the authorities for help recapturing his straying slave. No, Wilson didn't. He was, in fact, terrified of those authorities being called on Greg.
Nobody should notice, he thought, it's not like you didn't see an occasional slave wandering the streets. Everybody assumes they are on an errand for their owner. As long as Greg didn't do anything stupid to bring attention to himself he should be fine until Wilson could catch up to him and take him back home.
Unfortunately Greg doing something stupid at this point seemed more likely than not.
He couldn't imagine why Greg had done this. True, Wilson had never specifically forbidden him from leaving the apartment building, but Greg knew as well as Wilson that it wasn't safe for him to do so. He'd never shown any inclination to wander off before. Even yesterday he'd only gone to the laundry room, and look how that had turned out.
Of course if the police did pick him up and contact Wilson he could always lie and say Greg was on errand for him. He'd probably get another lecture, and another fine, from that sergeant but nothing disastrous would happen. He hoped. He realised that he really didn't know everything he should about the legal provisions that applied to slaves. After today he'd make sure he was an expert.
He looked down at the app. Greg was still moving. He inched up to the car in front of him and then stopped again. They were going nowhere fast, there had to have been an accident up ahead. Every minute he lost here Greg was getting further away from him.
An eternity later he pulled up outside his apartment building and consulted the app. The little dot that represented Greg was still moving but the rate of progress had slowed. Greg had been walking for over half an hour now, he had to be getting tired. Even with the cane Wilson knew he still found it tiring to walk for too long, not to mention painful.
He set the app to give him driving instructions and pulled back out into the road. Several blocks later he spotted his quarry. Greg was moving slowly now, his weight hunched over his cane. He was wearing a long coat; the one Wilson had bought for him only a couple of weeks ago as the weather had started to turn cold. The collar of the coat was up, and Wilson could also detect a scarf. Greg was hiding his collar from casual sight. He wasn't carrying a bag which Wilson would have expected if Greg was making a genuine attempt to flee. Greg had to know that Wilson could easily trace him. Yet here he was, stubbornly walking away, head down in some futile attempt to... Wilson didn't know what exactly, prove a point maybe?
He drove past, slowing the car down deliberately to catch Greg's attention. Greg glanced up as the car passed him and for a moment their eyes met and then Greg abruptly changed direction, heading for a park on the corner. Wilson cursed and accelerated past him, searching for a place to park the car.
By the time he had parked up the dot on the screen had covered half of the park, heading for the other side. This was getting ridiculous. It was cold out; he didn't want to chase Greg on foot across half of Princeton.
His hand crept to the pocket of his jacket, where the collar control was. He took it out and stared at it. A little press of a button and Greg would feel a mild shock that might stop him - or at least make him reconsider what he was doing. It would be for his own good. It would give Wilson a chance to catch up to him. His finger lightly brushed the control.
He had a flash of memory, Greg on the ground after he'd fallen down a flight of stairs at PPTH. Wilson had been touching him when Greg's 'recall signal' had been sent to his collar. He'd felt that shock. Someone had casually pressed a button like the one Wilson had in his hand and shocked him, just to let him know it was time to go back to the truck. Greg was held captive by the collar around his neck, and he had never been allowed to forget it by those bastards. Wilson had promised never to use the collar against Greg and he wasn't about to break that promise.
He dropped the control back in his pocket, horrified at what he had almost done. His anger at Greg fled. This was what Greg had to contend with every day - the knowledge that Wilson could do something like that to him whenever he wanted, and Greg could do nothing about it.
He set out on foot, across the road to the entrance to the park. Greg was barely moving now, still in Wilson's sight. While Wilson watched he made it to a park bench and slumped down on it, his head down. On impulse Wilson stopped at the coffee shop next to the park and picked up two coffees and a bag of donuts. His eyes never left Greg while he was waiting for his order. He wanted to rush straight to him, and drag him back to the car, and safety, but he knew that they needed to talk, and talk seriously. Now that he was within sight of Greg there was less danger. If the police came - well, he was quite entitled to be out with 'his slave'. He could spare a few minutes.
He approached Greg quietly, slipping onto the bench next to him and offering him one of the coffees.
Greg looked up, startled. He took the offered coffee but stared at it quizzically.
"You were chasing an escaping slave, and you... stopped to pick up coffee?"
"And donuts." Wilson said, offering the bag.
"You don't watch a lot of cop shows do you?"
Wilson shrugged. "You weren't escaping, or even trying to. Not really." He took a long sip of his coffee, feeling the warmth go through him. "Besides, it's cold out. We could both use a coffee."
"Why aren't you mad at me? You were annoyed yesterday, and I just went down a couple of floors not across half of Princeton."
"I was mad." Wilson held the coffee between his palms, staring down at it. "I was furious at you for being so reckless. I didn't know what the hell you were thinking, doing this. I had to leave work early and chase you all over town."
"But you're not mad now?"
"Not really. I just want to understand what's happening with you. I have all the advantages here, I know that. I can't imagine what it must be like for you. I just wish you would talk to me about it. I'd like to help."
Greg shook his head, staring back at the ground. "That's what I don't understand. I don't get why you would do all of this for me. Everything you've done for me, and then I do this, and you still come back for more." He looked up, and Wilson was struck by the pain in his face. "Even when I was free I used to hurt people, all the time. I used to drive them away. But you - you can't be driven off. I don't get it. Why the fuck do you care? Why wouldn't you just sell me? Your life would be a lot easier."
"You're my friend, Greg. People don't sell their friends." He took a long sip of his coffee, letting that sink in. Greg had called him a friend before, but that was defending Wilson to Nolan - Wilson didn't know if he truly believed it - either then or now. He needed to reach Greg somehow, and let him know how important he was to Wilson.
"I had a brother," he said slowly. He hadn't told anyone about this in years, but Greg needed to know. "His name was Danny. He was a great kid, he was three years younger than me but we had a lot of good times. When he was a teenager he started suffering from schizophrenia. He got into college, but while I was in med school he started getting worse. He would call me at all hours and I'd have to try and talk him down. Then, one day, I just didn't have time to do that - so I didn't take his call. He ran away that night, and I never saw him again."
He stopped and took another sip of coffee. In the couple of years that Danny had been gone it had crossed his mind more than once that maybe he'd gotten into trouble and ended up in prison, maybe even become a slave. Now that he knew Greg he wondered if that would have been better or worse than what actually happened.
"Two years later I got a call from the police. They'd found Danny, sleeping rough on the streets. He was dead from an overdose." Wilson had identified the body. Danny had been almost unrecognisable from the happy kid he'd once been.
"I'm sorry," Greg said quietly.
"Yeah, me too." He sighed, Danny's death still weighed heavily on him. Over time he'd come to accept that he wasn't responsible, but it wasn't an experience he ever wanted to repeat. "Greg, I don't want to lose you too. You may make me mad sometimes, but I'm not going to give up on you. I don't want you to give up on me either, however angry I make you. I know this is difficult for you. If you are having problems, or if you're not happy about something, you need to talk to me. If I can help I will. But I can't help you if you won't talk to me."
"You haven't been around as much lately." Greg said, a touch of anger in his voice. "I'm going to be a slave for another five years. That's a long time, Wilson. What happens when you meet the next Mrs Wilson? Or take up with Lisa Cuddy again? Think they're going to want a slave in the household?"
"Well, first of all, I am not getting back together with Cuddy!" He supposed he had been seeing her a bit lately, mostly because he'd been avoiding going home - although he wasn't going to tell Greg that. "She's a friend, and my boss, that's all. When we split up it was mutual. If somebody else comes along," he shrugged. "We'll deal with that. Either way you're not going anywhere."
"You say that now."
"You're just going to have to take my word for it. There's nothing else I can do, unless you want me to sign a contract in blood or something. I mean, we can do that if you want. I haven't got a scalpel with me though."
The corner of Greg's mouth quirked up and Wilson relaxed slightly.
"Why did you take off like that? I mean, after yesterday, I thought..."
"That I'd become a dutiful little slave again?" Greg's anger was back. "Too scared to do anything that might upset you? Or your neighbours?" He drained the rest of his coffee, crushing the cup in his hand. "I could do that. It wouldn't be hard. After twenty years of mindless obedience it becomes pretty easy really. I could live in your gilded cage. But I had to see... I had to see what would happen if I didn't."
Wilson thought of how close he'd come to pressing the control button and felt a wave of relief. Whatever bizarre test Greg had been putting him through he'd passed. Otherwise Greg would never have stopped here.
He looked up suddenly, a police patrol car was stopped at the edge of the park and two uniformed officers were coming across the grass.
"Take the scarf off, Greg," he said urgently and Greg followed his gaze and did so, also putting down the collar of his shirt. Wilson shoved the scarf into the pocket of his own coat.
They both sat quietly as the officers approached and then, to Wilson's surprise, they went right past them without acknowledgement, heading for some kids hanging around on bikes near the playground.
"Come on, let's get out of here," Wilson said, standing up. Greg sat for a moment longer and Wilson was afraid he was going to refuse. He held out his hand and Greg looked at it for a beat before taking it and letting Wilson help him to his feet.
They walked back to the car as quickly as possible. It was getting dark and the temperature was falling rapidly. Wilson glanced back a time or two but there were no signs of pursuit by the police.
Once inside the vehicle he put the heater on and once Greg was settled he quickly started the car and pulled away from the kerb. When he looked over at Greg he was staring out of the window.
Wilson ordered Chinese for their dinner, and they ate it in their usual place, in front of the television.
"I didn't get a chance to thank you yesterday," Wilson said as he snagged the last shrimp.
"Thank me? For... doing the laundry?" Greg said, his expression incredulous.
"No. For cleaning the apartment, you did a great job."
"I'm a good slave," Greg said bitterly.
"No. We both live here, I hope we can share cooking and cleaning evenly. I won't treat you as a slave, but I do expect you to do your share," Wilson said evenly. "I'm not your slave, either."
Greg was silent for a moment, then he put down his chopsticks. "You've been very good to me. I do appreciate it, but..."
"You can be honest with me, Greg. I don't like how things have been between us lately."
"You never asked me if I wanted all this. Before you bought me." He waved a hand to indicate the apartment.
Wilson stared at him blankly. "You wanted to stay at Rent-A-Slave?"
"No, of course not. But you're always saying how you don't treat me as a slave - but it never occurred to you to ask me what I wanted." He looked down and away, one hand fidgeting with his cane. "You decided you wanted to 'rescue' me and you did. Just like today - you came after me and brought me back here."
Wilson considered that. He'd told Greg over and over again that he didn't think of him as a slave, that he didn't see him that way. But fundamentally he still did. Greg still wore a collar, and Wilson still had that control in his pocket. Greg couldn't go anywhere without Wilson knowing about it.
He'd spent the last few months campaigning to have PPTH become slave-free, and had done everything he could to make Greg's life easier and better. And yet he hadn't freed him, not really.
He took the control out of his pocket, aware of Greg's eyes on him. He carefully pressed a sequence of buttons, and Greg's eyes widened as he felt the lock on his collar release.
Wilson put the control down and turned it off. He pulled out his phone and deleted the app from it. Then he reached forward with his hand, not quite touching Greg.
"May I?"
Greg froze in place and then slowly leaned forward. Wilson felt for the clasp of the collar and took it off gently. He dropped it on the coffee table in front of them.
"You never have to wear that again unless you choose to," he said simply.
Greg stared at it, and then one hand went up to touch the bare skin of his neck. Wilson could see the years of callouses there, Greg would always bear the marks even if he never wore a collar again.
"I can't free you legally. But I won't make you wear a collar. Never again."
"When we go out..." Greg said, his eyes still riveted on the collar.
"It will be your choice, and your risk to take."
"It will be your risk too," Greg pointed out.
"Some risks are worth taking."
"I could escape."
"I hope you can last out the rest of your sentence. I want this to be your home for those five years. But if you want to leave - then again, that's your choice. I'm not going to keep you against your will. If you leave I won't come looking for you again."
Greg touched both collar and control. Then he picked them up and slipped them into his pocket, his hand shaking slightly. He sat back and continued to eat as if nothing had happened. But Wilson noticed that every now and then he touched that pocket.
When the show had finished, and the food had gone cold they both stood up and cleaned away the debris.
"Goodnight, Greg," Wilson said.
Greg transferred his cane to his left hand and held out his right for Wilson to shake. Their hands and eyes met and Greg smiled at him.
"Call me House," he said.