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Third Time's the Charm
by Nafs
The Diagnostic Medicine offices were empty.
He'd known they would be - House hadn't taken on a case in a week, so Chase, Cameron and Foreman were back to sitting around bored from 9 to 5. Sometimes one or other of them would haunt Oncology, hoping (but never asking, of course) that he would pick up a case House might be interested in. It had been Cameron today.
Now he was glad he hadn't. He needed a place he was guaranteed to be alone.
He sat down behind House's desk, legal envelope still in hand. Alone.
"Do you want some advice?" the voice cut through the dark silence. His own personal Ghost of Divorces Past.
"I suppose I'm going to get some, whether or not I want any," he answered wearily, not looking up from the envelope in front of him.
"Well, normally I would leave you and your messy emotional problems alone, but I'm guessing if I want my desk back, I'm going to have to say something."
"Greg - "
"Stop marrying women."
"It's that simple."
"Of course it's that simple. If you don't marry them, they can't divorce you, and you won't end up sitting at my desk at ungodly hours of the morning, pretending you don't know what you did wrong this time."
"I don't like being alone." The protest sounded whiny and childish even to himself.
"You're not." For one small moment, House's tone was gentle. It suprised him into raising his head, looking the man in the eye. Wrong move. "You spend ninety-five percent of your time in this hospital around dozens of doctors, nurses, med students and sick people. Hell, you even horn in on my cases half the time, playing mother to my three idiot savants. By the time you get back to your apartment you should be grateful for some solitude, not to mention sleep."
"I don't have an apartment, at the moment."
"Yes I know. You're sleeping at your aunt's again. Fine. If I promise to limp around New Jersey with you, looking at apartments this weekend, will it get you out of my chair?"
"Thank-you for the consult, Dr. House." He stood, picking the envelope up again. "I'll leave you to your... what are you doing here at two in the morning?"
"I went for a walk."
It was his job to call House on his more obvious lies. He opened his mouth... but Greg held his eyes with a dark stare, daring him to say anything. "Good night, Greg."
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of Fox Television, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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