The Brit and the Bastard (Jean Brodie/Greg House)

[kissofdeath]

A little idea sprouted from a very long House marathon and two POMJB obsessed minds. AKA: me and dianahawthorne. lol.
Enjoy!

~Chapter 1~

Jean Brodie sat at her desk in her classroom at Marcia Blaine, one of the most prestigious all-girls boarding schools in the U.S., although Jean strongly disagreed with the school’s definition of prestige. Prestige to the headmistress and the rest of the staff was clutching at old, nearly forgotten traditions to raise young ladies. Traditions that stole a young woman’s individuality, her independence. Traditions the forbid truth, goodness, and beauty in Jean Brodie’s eyes.

No, this wouldn’t do at all. Jean would rather be assassinated than to see one of her girls turned into a brainless Stepford Wife. Oh, no. Marcia Blaine was her vocation. She firmly believed that it was her destiny to save the girls, her special girls, from being condemned to such a lifestyle.

Unfortunately, Jean had met her match in Miss. MacKay, the esteemed headmistress whose passion for a strict old-fashioned upbringing matched Jean’s determination to save her girls. Naturally, the two women clashed heads on several occasions.

Such was the case now as the Headmistress felt the need to put a halt on Jean’s production of “Othello” on the grounds that it was highly inappropriate and risqué for “young children” Luckily, Jean proved she had great connections when one of her girl’s father who was a playwright found Miss. MacKay’s notion to stop a student production of one of Shakespeare’s greatest plays to be appalling and appealed to the Board of Governors who quickly obliged his request that the production continue, considering that he was one of the school’s greatest benefactors. This entire fiasco had been a great blow and embarrassment to Miss. Mackay who vowed then and there to strive to force a new sense of unity between her and Jean. In other words, she would do everything in her power to bend Jean to her will.

Today she had gone so far as to have her personal secretary Miss. Gaunt interrupt Jean’s class to pass on a note requesting Jean’s presence at 4:15. Not four o’clock or four thirty but four fifteen.

Jean scoffed at the memory, wincing slightly as she realized it was 4:10 and she had to be on her way for her insufferable meeting with Miss. Mackay. Sighing, she stood up and locked her classroom, making her way down the stairs. She was about halfway down a flight when she felt a wave of nausea hit her. Quickly, she clutched the railing for support and began breathing deeply.

At that moment of vulnerability, Miss. Mackay happened to walk out of her classroom and was surprised to find Jean in such a state. “Why Miss. Brodie! Are you all right?” Her tone seemed concerned enough but Jean was no fool, or blind for that matter. She could practically hear the sarcasm and fakeness dripping from her voice and see the slight smirk on the older woman’s face.

She breathed in deeply once more and forced a reassuring smile on her face. “Of course, Miss. Mackay. Why wouldn’t I be?” She made her way to the bottom of the stairs, ignoring the unbearable throbbing she felt in her head.

The headmistress nodded, unconvinced but more than happy to ignore Jean’s obvious unwell state. “Very well then. Do come in.” She said, opening the door and ushering the younger woman in and taking a seat on her desk.

“Now, Miss.Brodie, I realize that you may have done things differently in Edinburgh, from your previous, shall we say, more progressive school. But here at Marcia Blaine it is one of our top priorities to preserve the nearly forgotten traditions in which to raise young girls. Miss. Brodie, are you even listening?” She turned sharply to the younger woman who was clearly ignoring her and seemed rather panicked, swatting furiously at her arms and legs, breathing uneasily.

“What is this? What are you-? Why are you doing this to me?” asked Jean as she continued to swat at her arms and legs, finding it more and more difficult to breathe.

“Doing what? Miss. Brodie, what on Earth are you talking about?”

“Snakes, spiders, and fire ants! They’re everywhere and all over me! I-I can’t get them off!” she exclaimed as she stood up.

“Miss.Brodie, there is nothing on you! You’re hallucinating! You-”” but before she could finish that sentence Miss.Brodie had collapsed unto the ground on her hands and knees.

“I can’t breathe! I-I can’t breathe!” she whispered as she clutched her chest.

The headmistress’s dislike for the other woman immediately vanished as the teacher in her came in full throttle and she opened the door and called to her secretary. “Miss. Gaunt! Call 911! We need an ambulance here immediately!” She crouched beside Jean and began rubbing her back soothingly. “It’s alright, Jean, it’s alright. Just take it easy.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


“House!” Cuddy’s voice pierced the air as she stormed into House’s office. “Would you care to tell me why you told a forty-nine year old male that he has PMS?”

“Because he does. Psychotic Male Syndrome.” House answered simply as he swung his legs up over his desk.

“House! I swear to God, if you screw with one more clinic patient I’ll-”

“What? Assign me more clinic hours and more patients to screw with?”

Cuddy opened her mouth to respond but then thought better of it. “Forget it. You’ve got a new case. Thirty four year old Caucasian female, nausea-”

“Bo-ring!”

“Dizziness, trouble breathing and hallucinations.”

“Single?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“Attractive?”

“Not your type.”

“Ah, red-head?”

“No, blonde. Don’t bother; she’s a boarding school teacher. Long distance wouldn’t work for you.”

“Ooh, a school marm. Interesting…Reminds me of this one fantasy I’ve had where I’m in detention-”

“House, go, NOW!”

“Don’t worry, its nothing compared to the one of you as the school girl and me as the dashing professor you’ve been in love with.”

“House-”

“I’m going!” House said as he limped his way out of his office where Foreman, Chase and Cameron were waiting by the elevator leaving a slightly blushing Cuddy to wonder what other fantasies ran through his brilliant mind and whether or not she continued to star in them

[Junora]

Brilliant, love it so far.

I needed something to laugh.

thank you so much dear.

Hug Lottie

[aptasi]

What a clever idea to do this crossover. I love this. Can't wait for more.

[dianahawthorne]

Chapter Two

“So why the hell should I care about this case?” House asked as they stepped into the elevator.

“Because Cuddy will give you more clinic hours if you don’t,” Cameron replied, pressing the button for their floor.

“She’s not going to give me more clinic hours,” House said. The elevator opened, and they stepped out. House limped down the corridor, flanked by Cameron, Foreman, and Chase. “Because she knows that all I’ll do is mess with their heads.”

Foreman smiled despite himself.

“So, tell me about this patient. She’s a teacher at an all-girls boarding school, right? I bet they get up to some kinky stuff there,” House said.

Chase rolled his eyes while Cameron dutifully opened the file.

“All right. Patient’s name is Jean Brodie; age thirty four; originally from Edinburgh, Scotland, and has been in the States for a year; profession: teacher; symptoms include dizziness, trouble breathing, nausea, and hallucinations,” Cameron read aloud.

“Get an MRI with contrast, EEG, LP, and blood panel. Oh, and check for STDs,” House ordered, heading into his office. He took a seat at his desk and began throwing his red ball against the wall. Cameron, Foreman, and Chase hurried off.

Cameron and Chase wheeled their patient to the MRI room and laid her on the table.

Jean looked inside the MRI machine, then up at the dark-haired man she could see standing next to her.

“The space inside is smaller than I thought,” she said.

“Don’t worry, Jean,” the man replied, holding her hand reassuringly. “The doctors are going to take good care of you, right?” he said, looking at them.

“Once the Valium kicks in, you’ll feel better,” Chase said.

“And then we’ll have some nice, warm milk when you’re done,” the man told her.

“I’d rather have more Valium,” she replied.

“Jean,” the man scolded her, amused.

“Let’s wait just a bit, see how it goes,” Cameron said. “Try to lie as still as possible.” She pressed a button on the MRI machine and Jean reluctantly let go of the man’s hand. Cameron and Chase entered the adjoining room to monitor the tests.

“Everything’s normal,” Chase said in surprise once the MRI was complete.

“Let’s get her back to her room, then,” Cameron said, and they wheeled Jean Brodie back to her room.

“All the tests were negative,” Chase reported.

“Ethanol could have psychoactive effects,” Foreman suggested.

“Idiot,” House shot back. “Where would a boarding school teacher come in contact with ethanol? She doesn’t teach science,” he said.

“How do you know that?” Foreman asked.

House produced her purse.

“I should have known,” Cameron murmured. House shuffled through their patient’s wallet.

“Credit card, driver’s license, thirty dollars in cash, school identification card, house keys, a copy of “Pride and Prejudice” – no science teacher would have that in her purse, and a photograph of a dark-haired man in front of Holyroodhouse in Edinburgh,” House said, laying each item out as he spoke of it.

“Could be a streptococcal infection,” Chase suggested, ignoring the contents of their patient’s wallet.

“Nope,” House said. “Next guess.”

“Haemochromatosis,” Cameron said. “It’s common among those of British and Irish descent.”

“But she has normal iron levels,” Foreman countered.

“Test for Creutzfeldt-Jakob,” House said.

“Mad cow disease?” Chase said, incredulous.

“She was in Germany during the outbreak,” House replied.

“And you know that because...” Cameron asked, trailing off as House held up her passport.

“I’m assuming that she doesn’t carry that around with her,” Chase said.

“And you would be right,” House said.

“So you went to her house?” Cameron pushed.

“Nope. The headmistress of the school brought it over,” House replied.

“I’m not going to do a brain biopsy on this woman,” Chase said. “She hasn’t had any seizures. She was in Germany years ago – it would have shown up by now if she did have it. I’m not going to do a potentially fatal operation to test for something she doesn’t have.”

“Suit yourself,” House said, leaning back in his chair. “Go search her house, then.”

“Fine,” he replied huffily.

An hour later, he had returned. “There’s nothing there – all her food is organic, even organic meat. It’s not Creutzfeldt-Jakob.”

“Go talk to her anyway,” House said. “Ask her if she ate any meat when she was in Germany all those years ago. It does have an incubation period. Cameron, Foreman, go with him.”

They nodded and left with Chase for their patient’s room.

“You’ve already done everything,” Jean said.

“We may have missed something,” Foreman replied patiently.

“I just want to go back to Marcia Blaine. I’m sure I’m fine now,” Jean stated.

“Jean, the doctors know best,” the dark-haired man from the photograph said. He was sitting in a chair at the foot of her bed.

“You had some serious symptoms. The hallucinations, the nausea...” Cameron said.

Jean interrupted her. “If I have them again, I’ll come right back, okay?”

“If you have one while you’re driving...” the man said.

“You can drive me. Make sure I take it easy,” Jean replied, smiling at the man.

“Who can?” Foreman asked.

“Teddy can,” Jean replied, looking at Foreman confusedly.

“Who’s Teddy?” Cameron asked.

“My lover,” Jean said coolly.

“He’s here?” Chase asked.

“What are you talking about? He’s right there,” Jean said, pointing to where Teddy was sitting.

All three doctors looked over to where she was pointing – there was no one there.

[Katheryn Mae]

I like it. Not a huge fan of X-overs but anyways...it's really good.

[Junora]

oh oh more problems, poor Jean.
But the storie is wonderful.
Can't wait till next chapter.

Wonderful
Hugs Lottie

[aptasi]

Interesting development.

[dianahawthorne]

The much-awaited chapter three! Enjoy!

Chapter 3

Several hours later, after running more tests, Chase, Cameron, and Foreman were sitting at the table in House’s office. House was standing at the whiteboard.

“You sampled every bodily fluid, peeked in her brain, interviewed her, but missed the fact that she was still seeing things that weren’t there,” he berated her. “Neurological symptoms are getting worse – it would be nice if one of you so-called doctors had a clue why.”

“We did a full history,” Foreman said defensively. “She never mentioned seeing or hearing anything unusual.”

“Oh, well, as long as she never said anything,” House replied. “How were you to know? Same thing with the spinal fluid? She tell you that was fine?”

Cameron went through the file. “The labs were all clear.”

“Then either we’re about to meet the Alpha and Omega, or you missed something,” House told them.

They paused, then Chase spoke up. “We missed the new symptom.”

“But it’s not a new symptom,” Foreman said. “We always knew she had hallucinations.”

“Seeing her dead mother is a hallucination,” Chase said. “Not knowing she’s dead is a delusion.”

House looked at them, impressed despite himself.

“You keep this up, you’re going to have to start wearing sexier clothes,” he told them.

“Uh, carbon monoxide could also cause delusions. A lot of haunted houses report...” Chase added, somewhat lamely.

“There’s no headache, no tachycardia,” Foreman said.

“What about a hereditary connection? She’s thirty-four. Her mother died when she was eighteen,” Chase suggested.

“Her mother died of a brain aneurysm,” Cameron said, looking through her file. “She obviously doesn’t have one.”

“Test for it anyway,” he said, and they nodded, getting up to leave.

***

Chase, Cameron, and Foreman entered Jean’s room to run still more tests.

“Now what are you testing for?” Jean asked irritably. “Or should I ask what you’re not testing for?”

“Well, we could narrow it down if you could remember if you had any symptoms prior to yesterday,” Cameron said.

“I told you that I didn’t have any symptoms!” Jean snapped.

“What about seeing that man – what’s his name, Teddy?” Foreman asked, checking the IV fluid levels.

“First of all, he’s not ‘that man’,” Jean said, irritated. “He’s my lover. And he’s sitting right there,” she said, pointing.

“Do you think we’re lying to you?” Chase asked her. Cameron motioned to him and he joined her in the corner of the room.

“Convincing her that she can’t see her lover isn’t going to make her better, just depressed,” Cameron said.

Chase knew that Cameron had lost her husband, so he dropped the topic, turning back to their patient.

“Do you think we’re trying to trick you? Why would we do that?” Chase asked.

“Because you’re mean. And you’re not good at your job,” Jean replied petulantly.

“Jean, stop,” Teddy told her. “You’re being cruel.”

“They’re wasting time,” Jean said to him. “Doing exactly what doctors always do.”

“They are trying to help you, Jean darling,” Teddy said. He stood up and walked over to her bedside, stroking her cheek tenderly. “Jean, I need you to get better, my darling.”

She smiled up at him. “All right, Teddy,” she said, her resolve to be difficult melting under his loving gaze.

“Good,” he said, leaning down to give her a light kiss. She turned back to the doctors.

“I’m sorry,” she said. The doctors looked at her in surprise, as they had not heard the account between Jean and Teddy. They wondered what on earth had made her change her mind.

***

“We’re wasting time,” Chase said in House’s office several hours later. “We ran thirty two gels. We could run a hundred more. Without knowing what’s making her ill…”

“You’re going to have to run a hundred more. And by you, of course, I’m only referring to the people who care enough about human life to put in a full day,” House said.

“So what next?” Cameron asked.

“Why don’t we just ask him if she had any symptoms, hmm?” House suggested.

“Ask who?” Foreman asked.

“Well, not the patient, obviously. The man she’s hallucinating!” House said, rolling his eyes. He stood up, reaching for his cane, and turned around when he realised that no one was following him. “Come on,” he said, annoyed, and they hurried after him.

***

“Now what?” Jean said, looking up when House, Cameron, Chase, and Foreman entered the room. Teddy Lloyd, her lover, was sitting on the side of her bed, but he moved to the armchair in the corner when the doctors entered.

House stopped in his tracks when he saw the patient. She was absolutely beautiful. Though he didn’t really go in for blondes, for her he’d make an exception. He shook his head slightly to rid himself of those thoughts.

“I’m Dr. House. Is your lover around?” he asked.

“Why should I tell you?” Jean asked. “You’re just going to tell me that I’m lying or crazy.”

“I’m not going to do that,” House said. “I really need to know what he has to say.”

“What do you want?” Jean asked.

“When you lived in Edinburgh, did he...” House began, but was cut off by Jean shaking her head.

“No, not you. Him,” she said, pointing behind House. He moved aside so that Jean could see the man clearly. He was old, with a sour expression on his face, wearing a suit and holding a briefcase. “Actually,” Jean said, “he looks like you.”

“Yeah, that’s Grandpa House,” House said. “Tall him to call back on a land line. Terrible reception in here. Did you have these symptoms before?” he asked.

“It’s Walter,” the old man said.

“He says his name is Walter,” Jean repeated. House looked shocked and disbelieving. He backed slowly out of the room.

***

A few minutes later, House entered Wilson’s office and flopped down on the couch.

Wilson looked up. “Can I... help you?” he asked.

“My patient’s talking to my Grandpa Walt,” House said, very blasé.

Wilson raised an eyebrow. “You have a Grandpa Walt?” he asked in disbelief.

“Nope,” House replied.

“And you want me to...?” Wilson trailed off.

“Nothing. Just need a place to hang low for awhile. I’m pretending to be spooked,” House replied, opening his Vicodin bottle. He threw a pill up in the air and caught it in his mouth.

“Because...?” Wilson asked.

“Because if my soon-to-be-brain-dead patient thinks that I believe her, maybe she’ll let me chat with her hallucination.

“The one you don’t believe exists,” Wilson said.

“Exactly. Her lover is a hallucination, which is the result of a delusion which most likely is the result of a disease that she had when she lived in Edinburgh as well.”

“And you think that you can tap into her memory by tapping into her hallucination.”

“Mmm hmm,” House said. “She might not know that she had these symptoms, but her hallucination will remember them, and she will pass along the information that way.”

“You’re quite impressed with yourself right now, aren’t you?” Wilson asked wryly.

House snorted. “Who wouldn’t be?” He checked his watch and stood up. “Well, that should be long enough. Back in a flash.”

“Take your time,” Wilson said, and turned back to his work. House limped out of Wilson’s office and down the hall to Jean’s room.

***

House entered Jean’s room. She was asleep, and he allowed himself a few moments to look at her. She was gorgeous, with porcelain skin and bright golden hair. She began to stir, and he composed herself.

“Is my grandfather still here?” he asked, acting like he believed her hallucinations.

“He should be right back,” Jean said. “He just went to get some warm milk.”

“But your lover’s still here, right?” House asked. Jean turned to Teddy and smiled at him. He took her hand.

“Yes, of course,” Jean said.

“I know that you’re fine now, but when you lived in Edinburgh, did you get sick?” he asked.

“No,” Jean said confusedly.

“You sure? You never hallucinated, felt nauseous or dizzy, or had trouble breathing?” he asked.

“She didn’t,” Teddy said.

“I was just tired sometimes,” Jean said.

“But Jean, sometimes you would get dizzy,” Teddy said.

“Yes, that’s true...” she replied.

“And sometimes you would have trouble breathing,” he added.

“I thought that was from riding my bicycle up those hills,” she said, chuckling softly. Remembrance dawned across her face. “That’s right – once in a while I’d get dizzy, or nauseous, and I’d go to Cramond,” she blushed, “And spend time with Gordon. We’d always have such a lovely time, sitting out on the porch, sipping a glass of milk...” she trailed off, continuing to blush.

“So that’s where you went all those weekends,” Teddy said.

“I’m sorry, Teddy,” she said, completely forgetting that House was there. “But you were married, and I couldn’t allow myself to be with you.”

He held her hand tightly. “It’s all right, Jean. We have each other now,” he said. She smiled at him and leaned over to kiss him.

“I love you, Jean,” he said.

“I love you, Teddy,” she replied. House quietly exited the room and walked back to his office.

[dianahawthorne]

Chapter 4

Cameron was walking down the hall to House’s office when Cuddy stopped her.

“Cameron, how’s it going with your patient?” Cuddy asked.

“Still seeing things,” Cameron said.

“Do you have any clue what’s wrong with her?”

“No, we don’t,” Cameron admitted. “House is taking quite a personal interest in this case, however,” she let slip.

Cuddy stopped and looked at Cameron, shocked. “He – he is?” she asked.

Cameron looked at her sympathetically. “Yes, he is. I’m sorry, Cuddy,” she said.

Cuddy forced a smile. “I’ll let you get back to your patient,” she said. She did have an ulterior motive – the sooner that patient was better, the sooner she would be the woman in House’s life again.



“You have to hold still!” Chase said, pushing Jean back down on the bed.

“I’m trying!” she cried.

“Damn it! Hold her down!” Foreman said, trying to inject her. The needle was unnaturally large.

Jean screamed and writhed as he tried again to inject her.

“No! Stop it!” she screamed. “Teddy!” She couldn’t see her lover anywhere.

“Let me do it!” Cameron said, taking the needle out of Foreman’s hand. Jean tried to escape the bed, but Chase pushed her down again.

“No, no!” she screamed.

“Hold her down!” Cameron cried.

“No! No! No!” Jean screamed as Cameron stabbed the large needle into her arm. “No!”

She woke up, sitting straight up in bed. Cameron was standing next to her, looking down at her concernedly.

“Jean. Jean?” she asked.

Jean sighed. “You stabbed me.”

“You were having a nightmare. It wasn’t real,” Cameron said.

Jean began to cry. “My arm is bleeding.”

“No, it’s okay now. Your arm’s not...” she trailed off as she looked down at Jean’s arm. It was bleeding.



An hour later, Cameron, Cuddy, and Foreman were sitting around the glass table while House stood in front of the whiteboard.

“Lesions aren’t explained by Creutzfeldt-Jakob,” Chase said.

“Any theories?” House asked.

Cameron shook her head.

House wrote Jean’s symptoms on the board. “Hallucinations, nausea, dizziness, delusions, skin lesions.”

“What about vasculitis?” Chase suggested.

“MRI didn’t indicate any cerebral ischemia,” Foreman said.

“But she has shown some focal weakness, urinary retention,” Chase said.

“Yes, those are her big mystery symptoms. Not the hallucinations that vasculitis doesn’t explain,” Foreman replied.

“Unless it’s retinal vasculitis,” Chase said.

House looked at Chase. It was evident that he liked the idea.

“Come on, Chase,” Foreman said. “If you don’t know by now that visual symptoms are an electrical issue, not vascular; two separate systems...”

“So are the banks and the power grid,” House said. “But if I don’t pay my bills, my lights go out. Vasculitis restricts blood flow to nerves, messes with electrical function.”

“Acute intermittent porphyria’s a better fit,” Cameron said.

“If you’re wrong about porphyria, the treatment could box her kidneys,” Chase said. “Vasculitis is treated with corticosteroids. Relatively harmless.”

“Start her on the steroids,” House decided.

“House...” Foreman protested.

“And test for both so he’ll stop whining,” House said.



Later that day, Cameron, Chase, Jean, and, unseen by anyone besides Jean, Teddy, were in the procedure room. She was undergoing a retinal test, so she had contact lenses connected with wires in her eyes. Jean’s forehead was pressed against a bar attached to the machine as she looked into it.

“When your retina sees something, they send electrical signals to your brain,” Cameron explained.

“If the signals are misfiring, it’ll confirm that House is right once again. That your hallucinations were caused by...” Chase was cut off by Jean.

“They’re not hallucinations,” Jean said. “Tell them, Teddy.”

“Sweetheart, they’re doctors,” Teddy said, stroking her hair softly. “They must know what they’re doing.”

“If they know what they’re doing, then why am I still here?” she asked. “This isn’t working! You’re just making me sicker!” She began to gag, leaning back in her chair in pain.

“What’s wrong?” Cameron asked.”

“My stomach, it hurts,” she moaned. Suddenly she lurched forward and threw up blood on the floor. Teddy was frantic.

“Do something!” he cried, though no one but Jean could hear him.

“Code in the eye lab,” Chase said into the phone.

“Lean forward, Jean,” Cameron said. “You’re going to aspirate.”

“I can’t,” Jean cried. “It hurts.” She looked up at them. “Why won’t you help me?”



A few hours later, Jean was lying unconscious in the operating room, her stomach open. Chase was operating, trying to stop her internal bleeding. Foreman was assisting.

“Spleen’s ripe to bursting,” Chase said.

“And you thought it was vasculitis,” Foreman scoffed. They continued the surgery.

“There’s a lot of blood here,” Chase said, ignoring Foreman’s comment. “Sponge.”

Foreman handed him a sponge and Chase dabbed at the blood to clear some of it away.

“What do you think is causing this?” Foreman asked.

“I have no idea,” Chase said.

House was observing the surgery from the Observation Deck.

“That’s not coming from the spleen,” Chase said.

“It’s the liver – it’s necrotic,” Foreman said.

“She’s dying from the inside out,” Chase replied, exchanging a look with Foreman. House watched sombrely on.



Later that day, the doctors were once more in House’s office. House was writing on the board – “Enlarged spleen, necrotic liver”. He then joined Cameron, Chase, and Foreman at the table.

“Enlarged spleen and liver failure are classic AIP. It’s porphyria and it’s moving fast,” Foreman said.

“PBGs were negative,” Cameron said. “It you read the report...”

“PBG tests are only conclusive if done during an attack,” Foreman said.

“It could still be vascular,” Chase said.

Foreman sighed in frustration. “Vasculitis is off the board. Steroid treatment didn’t help.”

“Vascular isn’t just vasculitis,” Chase argued. “Something’s gotta be cutting off the blood supply to her liver and spleen.”

“Do a visceral angiogram,” House said, and the team rushed off to do his bidding.



Jean was in her room, hooked up to the angiogram machine, unconscious. As the doctors began running tests, she suddenly began to convulse, saliva trickling out of her mouth. Jean wakes up, shrieking, as she continued to convulse. Chase and Cameron quickly sedated her. During this ordeal, Teddy had been watching, twisting his hands together, worrying about Jean.



Chase and Cameron met back with Foreman and House.

“What did the angio say?” House asked.

“We couldn’t finish. She started convulsing and hyper-salivating,” Cameron explained. “We had to knock her out with lorazepam.”

“Well, it’s definitely not vascular,” House said. He was sitting at his desk, eating a sandwich. He spat out the mouthful he had just eaten and looked at it. “Ugh, why don’t you all get me bread that ISN’T mouldy?” he asked, looking at the green mould in disgust.

“I know what she has,” Chase said suddenly.

“You couldn’t have spoken up ten seconds ago, distracting me from my sandwich?” House asked. “You could’ve saved me this disgusting taste in my mouth.”

“The patient had all organic food in her house – including rye bread, which could easily have been mouldy. It’s ergot poisoning,” Chase said triumphantly.

“You’d need damp grain...” Foreman began.

“...completely unprocessed and untreated like what’s in that organic rye bread she’s been eating,” Cameron said.

“It’s why she got worse on the bromocriptine. It’s an ergot derivative,” Chase said.

“There hasn’t been a case in fifty years,” Foreman protested.

“She kept asking for milk. Dairy products counteract the effect,” Cameron said.

“You think she knew what she had and was treating it?” Foreman asked sceptically.

“Cravings based on evolutionary needs,” Cameron explained. “It’s a fairly common evolutionary development.”

“I’ll go with you to tell her,” House said, standing up and limping out the door, Chase, Cameron, and Foreman following him.



“It’s the stuff you make LSD from,” Cameron said. “The treatment you’re on should...”

“So I’ve just been... tripping?” Jean asked.

“It explains the hallucinations, delusions, and it constricts the blood vessels, which explains the necrosis,” Chase said.

Jean looked down mournfully before turning to where Teddy sat.

“He’s not here?” she asked sadly. Teddy shook his head, and Jean looked at the doctors.

“I’m sorry, no,” Cameron said.

Jean nodded her head sadly.

“The fact that you’re even willing to accept that answer means the medicine is starting to work,” Chase explained. Jean nodded again and looked at her lover, who gently stroked her hair.

“But you’ll live, my beautiful, darling Jean,” Teddy said. Jean let a single tear slip down her face.

“I love you, Teddy,” she whispered, and he smiled sadly at her.

“And I love you, Jean – forever,” he replied. He leaned over to give her one last kiss, disappearing after they broke apart.

Jean turned back to the doctors, tears in her eyes.

“You’ll have to stay here for the next three weeks,” House said.

“Three weeks?” Jean exclaimed. Cameron, Chase, and Foreman exchanged a look. It was not necessary for Jean to remain for three weeks – a week and a half was the standard time. But Cameron had been right when she said that House had taken a personal interest in the case – but it was more than the case he was interested in – it was their patient.

“Yes, three weeks,” House said. He limped out of the room, leaving Cameron, Chase, and Foreman behind.

“Do I really have to stay here for three weeks?” Jean asked.

Cameron nodded. “If Dr. House says three weeks, he means three weeks,” she said.

“Couldn’t he be wrong?” Jean asked.

Foreman snorted. “House is never wrong – at least he believes that he’s never wrong,” he said.

Jean nodded – that was something that she understood.

“We’ll leave you know to get some rest,” Cameron said, and Jean nodded, leaning back against the pillows. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.



House entered her room several hours later. Jean was awake, reading her copy of “Pride and Prejudice”. She looked up as she heard him enter.

“Dr. House,” she nodded.

“Miss Brodie,” he said. He pulled a chair up to her bed and sat down. They stared at each other for a few moments, not saying anything.

“Are the hallucinations gone?” he asked finally.

She nodded, biting down on her lower lip to keep it from trembling.

“Your hallucinations were of your lover, correct?” he asked, and she nodded. “Is he dead?”

“No, he’s not, though he might as well be,” Jean said, twisting a ring on her finger absentmindedly.

“He’s married, then?” House asked. “And he’s the reason you left Edinburgh.”

She looked at him in shock. “How did you know that?” she asked.

“You mentioned that he was married during one of your conversations with his hallucination,” House said. “And the fact that you left a good job and your own country can only be explained by the fact that you loved him too much to remain in the same city with him while he was married.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Jean said, nodding sadly.

“Why didn’t he divorce his wife?” House asked her curiously.

“He has six children,” Jean said. “And he’s Catholic. He doesn’t believe in divorce.”

“But he believes in having affairs,” House stated.

Jean shrugged. “I suppose he does. We had an affair – a brief one, but still. I was so in love with him...” she trailed off, tears slipping down her face.

“Why didn’t you continue the affair?” he asked her.

“I didn’t want to be second,” Jean said. “I wanted to be first in his life, but I wasn’t.”

“If you knew that you’d be second, then why did you have an affair with him in the first place?” House was intensely curious about her motivation. She was certainly an enigma, he thought to himself.

“He was an artist,” Jean began in a dreamy voice. “I had been teaching at my previous position for six years; so had he. The day that school let out for the summer four years ago, he approached me, asking if I’d pose for him. So I went to his studio despite myself – and he began painting me. We fell into bed later that evening... oh, it was wonderful – he was wonderful. But he left me early the next morning to go back to his wife.”

“What next?” House asked, curious despite himself. She certainly was an interesting person – she reminded him a bit of himself.

“I began an affair with one of our colleagues, Gordon Lowther,” Jean said. “And I flaunted my relationship with him in front of Teddy, trying to make him jealous. And he was, but he was not jealous enough – or enough in love with me – to divorce his wife for me. But I didn’t care that he didn’t divorce his wife – I wanted him to tell me that I came first for him, that he loved me the most. I would’ve happily been his mistress, if only he had made it clear that I was first.”

House raised his eyebrow. He certainly had never met a woman like this before – a woman who would’ve happily been the mistress of a married man with six children. Most women he’d met wanted to be married, wanted children – Cuddy included. But this woman... she was absolutely different, and, because she was so different, she was so absolutely beguiling. He stared at her for a long moment.

“You’re quite a peculiar woman, aren’t you?” House asked. It was a testament to her uniqueness that she didn’t look offended, but merely nodded.

“I am,” she said. He granted her a rare smile and limped out of her room, leaving her to stare thoughtfully at his retreating back.

[Katheryn Mae]

Wonderful, all wonderful. Keep up the great work!

[kissofdeath]

lol, I love this fic. It's one of the top ones of my all time fav. Di stories!

[dianahawthorne]

Chapter 5

***

The chapter you've all been waiting for! House and Jean take their relationship to the next level! Enjoy!

***

Jean recovered quickly – the lesions on her skin healed, her liver regenerated, and she felt much better. Luckily, it was the end of the school year, time for exams, so Jean did not have to worry about not being able to teach. Another teacher supervised her class’s exams. House stopped by every afternoon to talk to her. He was absolutely fascinated by her mind – she was so different from any other person he had ever known.

Cuddy was jealous of Jean – though she would never admit it to herself or to House. She had loved their sparring sessions, loved his not-so-subtle innuendos. But now, ever since she had insisted that House take this case, all the things that she loved had slowed to a trickle – because he was spending his time with the patient, not trying to aggravate her. She had never regretted insisting he take a case more.

House and Jean had quickly formed a bond based on their similar personalities. The more they talked with each other, the more they desired the other.

Jean understood him in a way that Cuddy – and even Stacy – did not – they were cut out of the same cloth. They were dedicated to their jobs, devoted to the truth (even when other people didn’t want to hear it), and always believed they were right.

Jean was released from the hospital two weeks after she was admitted. Cuddy had insisted that she be released, as Jean had recovered and because she didn’t want Jean to be there any longer than necessary. Cuddy did not tell House.

Later that afternoon, House limped down to Jean’s room and was shocked to find an elderly man in her bed.

“How long have you been here?” House asked the man, glaring.

“A few hours,” the man said. “Is something wrong?”

But House didn’t reply as he had left the room, limping quickly towards Cuddy’s office.

“You released my patient?” he asked as he banged into Cuddy’s office. She looked up from her paperwork.

“Yes, I did,” Cuddy said.

“Why?”

“Because she didn’t need to stay here anymore, House. We needed that room for other patients,” she replied.

“You could’ve asked me,” House said. “Or told me.”

“House, I know that you often forget this, but I’m the head of this hospital, not you,” she said, mock-patiently. “She was fine. She needed to be released.”

House refused to dignify her statements with a response, so he limped out of her office, headed towards his own. He picked up Jean Brodie’s file and dialled her phone number.

“Hello?” she said as she answered the telephone.

“Hello, this is Dr. House,” House said.

“Oh, Dr. House!” Jean exclaimed. “Hello.”

“Miss Brodie, the hospital forgot to check up on a few things before releasing you,” House lied.

“Oh, would you like me to come back?” she asked him.

“No, that’s all right,” House said. “I’ll come over.”

“All right,” Jean said. “Do you need directions?”

“No, that’s all right,” House said. “I’ll be there shortly.” He hung up the telephone and limped out of the hospital, stopped by Cuddy on his way out.

“Where are you going?” Cuddy asked.

“I have a hot date,” House said.

Cuddy raised her eyebrows. “Really?” she asked, disbelieving.

“Really,” he replied. He left her standing there as he headed to his motorcycle, going to Jean’s house.

A half an hour later, he had entered the gates of Marcia Blaine. It had quite a lovely campus. Her house was set apart from the others, tucked away in the woods. He drove his motorcycle up her driveway, parking it next to her car. He limped up to her doorstep and rang the doorbell.

She opened the door almost immediately.

“Dr. House! Please, come in,” she said, stepping back. He stepped into her house and she led him to the living room. “Can I get you anything to drink?” she asked.

“A glass of scotch, if you have it,” House said. She nodded and stepped into the kitchen, pouring him out a glass of scotch. She brought it back into the living room and curled up on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her.

“So what sort of tests do you have to run?” Jean asked him.

“Oh, I discovered that they were already performed,” House said, trying to look sheepish.

She raised her eyebrows. “If you wanted to see me again, Dr. House, you didn’t have to lie about it,” she said.

“Touché,” he replied.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” Jean asked.

“All right,” House agreed.

“I’ll start on dinner, then,” Jean said. “Feel free to turn on the television – I do have cable,” she said, smiling.

“Ah, good,” he said, turning on the television. He flipped to General Hospital. Jean entered the kitchen and began cooking dinner – lasagne. While the lasagne was cooking, she made a salad. A half an hour later, dinner was ready, and Jean set the table. She poured herself a glass of wine and refilled House’s glass of scotch.

They sat down at the table and began eating in silence – a comfortable silence, but a silence nonetheless.

“This is delicious,” House said in surprise.

“I’ve never been just a pretty face,” Jean said, smiling coyly.

“No, you’re not,” House said seriously, setting down his silverware. He leaned across the table to her but she stood up.

“Would you like dessert?” she asked him, carrying their dishes to the kitchen.

“What’s for dessert?” he asked.

“I have chocolate ice cream,” she said.

“All right,” he replied.

“And coffee?” she suggested.

“Sure,” he agreed.

“Why don’t you go into the living room,” Jean said, and he nodded, standing up and settling himself on the couch. She joined him a few moments later, carrying a tray of coffee and ice cream. Jean set the tray down on the coffee table and handed House his coffee cup. He took a sip, regarding her over the rim of his mug. She stared back at him.

“Jean,” he said as she took a sip of coffee. She raised her eyebrows and set her cup down.

“Greg,” she replied.

He set down his cup of coffee next to hers and took her face in his hands. Leaning forward, he kissed her.

She responded eagerly – she had been waiting for his kiss for two weeks. It had been worth the wait – he was a marvellous kisser, better than Teddy had been, and MUCH better than Gordon. He pulled her closer to him as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Where’s your bedroom?” he asked her when they broke out of the kiss.

“Upstairs. Can you make it?” she asked. She had noticed that he had been popping a lot of Vicodin that evening.

“I think so,” he said. She stood up and extended a hand down to him; he took it. She handed him his cane and took his hand again; they walked slowly up the stairs to her bedroom.

When they reached her bedroom he sat down on the bed. They each undressed each other slowly. Once they were both naked, he pulled her down onto the bed.



Afterwards she lay in his arms.

“That was amazing,” he said. Jean smiled – she had learned that Greg rarely gave compliments or said something positive, so she knew that he meant it. For his part, Greg was absolutely astonished at how much passion was housed in her delicate frame.

“It was,” she replied, turning in his arms to kiss his chest lightly. He looked down at her, his gaze filled with affection. “Is your leg all right?”

“It’s fine,” he said. She rubbed his scarred thigh lightly.

“Are you going to stay the night?” she asked.

“If you don’t mind,” he said. “It’ll be nice to have an actual breakfast in the morning.”

Jean laughed, and Greg smiled. Most women would be offended by his answer, but even though they had only met two weeks ago, she knew him well enough not to be offended.

“What time should I set the alarm clock?” she asked him.

“Seven,” he said. She leaned over to her nightstand and set the alarm clock for seven o’clock. “Will you stop by the hospital tomorrow at twelve?” he asked.

“Of course – why?” she asked.

“Well, I thought that we’d grab a bite to eat in the hospital cafeteria,” he said. She smiled at him.

“I’d enjoy that,” she replied.

He kissed her temple. “Good. And wear something sexy,” he said.

“You’re trying to show me off, hmm?” she asked, laughing at the expression on his face. “It’s all right. Who are you trying to impress?”

“Well, two people really – my boss, Dr. Cuddy, and Wilson,” he said.

She climbed out of bed.

“Where are you going?” he asked her.

She turned back to him. “I’m getting your approval on my outfit for tomorrow, of course,” she said. She walked over to her closet and he watched her as she rummaged through her clothes. She was beautiful.

Jean turned back to him, holding a low-cut sweater in one hand and a knee-length skirt (with a slit up the side) in her other hand.

“What do you think?” she asked. He had a wide, lustful smile on his face.

“Perfect,” he said. “Now come back to bed.”

She laughed and set the clothes aside, joining him in bed once more.

“Good night, Greg,” she said, kissing his lips lightly. He returned the kiss.

“Good night, Jean,” he replied. She smiled up at him and reached over to turn out the light. They drifted off to sleep.



The next morning they woke up when the alarm clock went off. Jean went downstairs to make breakfast while Greg took a bath. She had just finished making their breakfast when Greg limped downstairs.

“Good morning,” she said.

He sat down at the table. “Good morning,” he replied. “Breakfast smells excellent.”

“Thank you,” Jean said, setting the omelette in front of him. “What would you like to drink?”

“Coffee,” he said. She brought the pot over and poured him a cup before sitting down next to him.

They ate their breakfast quietly – neither of them were morning people – and after breakfast Greg got ready to leave for work.

“I’ll see you at noon,” he said, kissing her lips lightly.

“All right,” Jean replied. He gave her a brief smile and limped out her front door. She cleaned up their dishes and then went upstairs to take a shower.



Jean arrived at the hospital at noon. House was waiting for her outside.

“Hello, Jean,” he said, bending down to kiss her. She returned the kiss. “Ready for lunch?” he asked when they pulled back from their kiss.

“All right,” she agreed, and they walked inside to the cafeteria. Standing in line, they soon got their food.

“I see Wilson and Cuddy,” House said, indicating them with his cane.

“Do you want to join them?” she asked him and he gave her a big grin.

“My thoughts exactly,” House said, and he and Jean joined them.

“Wilson, Cuddy,” House said, sitting down next to Cuddy. Jean sat down across from him, next to Wilson. “I don’t believe you know Jean.”

Wilson extended his hand. “James Wilson,” he said. She took his hand.

“Jean Brodie,” she said. Wilson looked at Cuddy – she was absolutely shocked.

“House, can I talk to you?” Cuddy asked, standing up.

“I’m having lunch, Cuddy,” House said.

“It won’t take long,” Cuddy said. House looked at Jean, who shrugged. House stood up and stole the bag of potato chips from Cuddy’s tray. He limped after her.

“You’re not allowed to have relations with a patient!” Cuddy whispered fiercely. House opened the bag of filched potato chips and began munching on them.

“She’s not a patient,” House said in between bites. Cuddy took the bag away from him.

“She was, and she was your patient! You’re breaking the Hippocratic Oath!”

“No, I waited until she wasn’t a patient anymore to seduce her,” House said. Cuddy’s face blanched. “Anyway, according to the paperwork, Chase was the doctor of record.”

“You changed the paperwork?” she asked him. She supposed that she really shouldn’t be shocked, but she was.

House shrugged. “Listen, I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry,” he said. He turned away from her, but Cuddy grabbed his elbow.

“House, you can’t do this,” she said. He looked down into her eyes.

“Yes, I can,” he said, and limped back to the table. Cuddy walked back to her office, not wanting to watch House and his new girlfriend.

While House and Cuddy were talking, Wilson engaged Jean in conversation.

“So, you met House because you were his patient?” Wilson asked.

Jean nodded. “That’s right.”

“You know that he’s not really the settling-down kind, don’t you?” Wilson asked.

Jean laughed. “I don’t mind,” she said. “I don’t want to settle down myself.”

Wilson raised his eyebrows, but he couldn’t say anything else as House rejoined them.

“Where’s Cuddy?” Wilson asked.

“Her office, I guess,” House said, digging into his lunch. Jean smiled fondly at him. He reached under the table to place his hand on Jean’s knee.

“That’s my knee, House,” Wilson said.

“Sorry,” House replied, and moved his hand to Jean’s knee. She smiled softly at him. Wilson looked nauseous.

“I’ll see you later,” Wilson said, hurriedly standing up. “You both should come over for dinner next week.”

Jean and House exchanged a glance; House shrugged.

Jean turned to Wilson. “All right,” she said. “Let us know when.” Wilson nodded and quickly exited the cafeteria. House stood up and slid in the booth next to her. He rested his hand on her upper thigh as they ate. When they were finished, Jean turned to House.

“I’ll let you get back to work,” Jean said.

“No, stay awhile,” House said. “You can meet my doctors.”

“If you’re sure,” Jean said, and he nodded. “All right.” They stood up and walked to his office.

“Cameron, Foreman, Chase,” House began when he and Jean entered his office. They looked up from their files. “You all know Jean Brodie.”

They all looked shocked.

“Is she here for more tests?” Chase asked.

“Nope, just here to say hi,” House said. Jean smiled and nodded at them.

“Thank you for diagnosing me,” she said politely.

“It was Chase who came up with the answer,” Cameron said.

“Thank you, Dr. Chase,” Jean said. She turned to House. “I ought to go – you’re coming to dinner tonight?”

“Of course,” he said. He raised an eyebrow, and her eyes twinkled. He stepped forward and kissed her passionately, Jean returning the kiss. They broke apart.

“I’ll see you tonight,” she said, and left the office. House turned back to his doctors, a smug smile on his face. Cameron looked slightly hurt, Chase looked admiring, and Foreman was impassive.

“Let’s get back to work,” House said, flopping down in his desk chair. He began throwing his lacrosse ball against the wall while his doctors got back to work on their files.

[Junora]

amazing, wonderful,
I can't wait till next chapter.

you're great.

Hugs Lottie

[dianahawthorne]

Chapter 6

***
Since I have the rest of the story finished, it will be up by the weekend. Enjoy chapter 6!
***

House was supposed to arrive at Jean’s at seven o’clock, but Cuddy kept him at the clinic until nine. He wasn’t able to call her, as Cuddy refused to let him use the phone, but Wilson called Jean for him. She was disappointed, but understood.

When Greg finally arrived, Jean was sitting on her couch, reading. She stood up to open the door, pleased to see Greg standing there.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Did you get Wilson’s call?”

“Yes, I did,” she said. “Please come in.”

He stepped into the narrow hallway and she led him to the kitchen.

“I made chicken parmigiana,” she said, dishing out their meal. He accepted the plate. “What would you like to drink?” she asked.

“Scotch, please,” he said, and she poured him a glass before joining him at the table.

“Cuddy is interested in you,” Jean said and Greg nearly spat out his mouthful of scotch.

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed. They’d had their brief fling; she’d ended it.

“You might antagonise her, but she is interested in you despite that,” Jean said. “And Cameron is interested in you, too.”

“I know that Cameron’s interested in me,” Greg replied. “She’d quit, and would only come back if we went out on a date. It didn’t work out.”

Jean placed her hand over his. He looked up at her.

“Do you think that we will work?” she asked him. He turned his hand over to entwine his fingers with hers.

“Yes,” he said simply.

“Good,” she replied. “I’m glad we agree.”

He raised her hand to his lips – a romantic gesture that spoke volumes of his feelings for her. She leaned across the table to kiss him. He stood up when they broke apart and began limping upstairs, holding Jean’s hand in his. Sitting on the bed, he pulled her down with him. Jean giggled as he rolled her onto her back, beginning to kiss her again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her.

Afterwards, lying in his arms, she realised that she was happier than she had been since that one night at the studio with Teddy. She felt Greg brush a lock of hair out of her eyes, and in that moment she knew she was in love with him. She wanted to tell him, but knew that it was far too soon to voice these feelings. But she knew that he knew the feelings in her heart anyway.

“Move in with me,” he said.

“I can’t, Greg,” she said. “The school will never allow it.”

“Do they have to know?” he asked.

“Well, they’d realise that I wasn’t living here,” Jean said.

“Why can’t you lie to them?” he asked.

“Because that would be a fireable offence,” Jean said. “I want to, Greg, but I love my job.”

He nodded – he understood her reasoning. After all, for so many years, his job had been all he had – until he had met her. “We’ll figure out a way,” he said.

“All right,” she agreed. “Good night,” she said.

“Good night,” he replied.



On Friday, Jean and House went to Wilson’s house for dinner. His wife, Julie, had made a simple meal of pasta, salad, and brownies for dessert. The meal was somewhat uncomfortable – Wilson and his wife were on edge during the meal, and House enjoyed provoking them. Jean was quiet, withdrawn during the meal – her mind was otherwise occupied. She was thinking about her relationship with House. Jean was afraid that he wouldn’t want to be with her if she couldn’t move in with him. But she didn’t want to ask him about it, knowing that that would push him further away.

After dinner, they returned to House’s apartment.

“I hope we’re never like that,” Jean said when they entered his apartment.

“We never will be,” Greg told her. She smiled slightly at him.

“Good,” she replied, leaning over to kiss him.



Three weeks later, House was shot.

Wilson called Jean, who immediately rushed over to the hospital. She wasn’t able to see him, as he was in surgery. Wilson told her that he had asked for ketamine, which would place him in an artificial coma to hopefully relieve the pain in his leg.

“How long will he be in the coma?” Jean asked, tears staining her face.

“A few days, probably,” Wilson replied. “You can go home – we’ll call you when he wakes up.”

Jean shook her head. “No, I’m going to stay,” she said. “What room is he in?”

“He’s in room 114,” Wilson replied, and Jean took off down the hallway before he had finished his sentence.

Greg was lying in the hospital bed, his face ashen. Jean rushed to his side, pulling a chair up to his bedside. She took his hand in hers and held it too her cheek.

“Oh, Greg,” she whispered softly, tears running down her face. “Oh, my darling.”

He laid there, his chest barely rising and falling as he breathed. The heart monitor beeped steadily. Pulling the chair closer to his bed, Jean settled down for her long vigil.

Cuddy, Wilson, Cameron, Foreman, and Chase steadily streamed in and out of House’s hospital room. The day after House was shot, his mother arrived. Wilson introduced them.

“How long have you been seeing my son?” Blythe asked her.

“About a month,” Jean replied.

“And how did you meet?”

“He saved my life,” Jean said.

“And you love him?” Blythe asked.

“Yes, I do,” she replied.

“You do?” he asked her, his voice hoarse from disuse.

“Greg!” Jean cried, rushing to his side. “You’re all right – thank God you’re all right!”

He granted her a rare smile, raising his hand to her cheek.

Blythe stood next to Jean.

“Hello, Mom,” he said.

“Hello, Greg,” his mother replied. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

“As am I,” Jean added.

Foreman, Chase, Cuddy, and Cameron came in.

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to go,” Cuddy said. “We have to run some tests.”

Jean reluctantly released Greg’s hand, but he grabbed it again, pulling her towards him. He gestured for her to bend down, and she did.

“I love you, Jean,” he whispered, and she beamed at him, bending to kiss him lightly.

“I love you, too,” she whispered.

[Katheryn Mae]

You mean it's shorted than most stories you worked on? Really?

But this was lovely.

~Katheryn Mae Rose

[dianahawthorne]

Chapter 7

***

Greg was at the hospital for a week, after which he was released. Jean moved into his home for the summer – she told the headmistress she was staying with a friend who had just recovered from surgery – and she wanted to be with him. And he wanted to be with her.

He was a changed man – he could walk without the aid of his cane, and, because of that, was much, much happier. Jean’s presence in his life, his house, his bed also contributed greatly to his changed mood. He loved her – loved her more than anyone he had ever known, even more than he had loved Stacy, though he’d never admit it to anyone, not even Jean. But he knew that she knew he loved her – and he knew that she loved him just as much. They didn’t need to talk about their mutual love and affection for each other – they understood each other.

Greg began running, increasing the distance he ran every day. He was no longer taking Vicodin. She was thrilled that his pain was gone – he was so happy now. Every evening when he returned from his run, she’d be waiting for him, a hot dinner on the table. She enjoyed taking care of him – she did love him – and he loved her for that, among other things.

Their summer passed quietly, peacefully – they were both incredibly happy, happier than they ever had been. They basked in their love, enjoying every minute of time they spent with each other.

Greg was still a misanthropic son-of-a-bitch, but he showed his tender side to Jean, who, in turn, let him into the deepest recesses of her heart.

He was interested in her mind as well as her body and loved talking to her. She was endlessly fascinating to him – she was so similar to him and yet so different. During that summer he learned all there was to learn about Jean Brodie and yet was still fascinated by her mind, falling even deeper in love with her. At his urging, she confided everything in him, beginning from her childhood, to her mother’s death, to her affairs with Hugh, Teddy, and Gordon. He, in turn, told her about his brief fling with Cuddy and with Stacy – the only other woman he had ever loved. He told her about treating Stacy’s husband, about their affair, and how he let her go once more.

But their glorious summer could not last forever, and eventually Jean moved out of his house and back to Marcia Blaine, much to her regret. She didn’t want to leave, but she knew that Miss Mackay could use the fact that she was living with a man neither her husband nor fiancé against her. And she loved her job and did not want to lose her position there.

Greg went back to work as well, becoming more involved with his cases. He was slightly less of a bastard to his team and to Cuddy, much to their surprise – because, for the first time, he was happy. Jean was happy, and she, too was polite to everyone, even Miss Mackay. Everything was wonderful... until a visitor from Jean’s past arrived in New Jersey.



It was September 21st, a Saturday, and Jean and Greg were spending the day together at her house. It was about ten o’clock at night, and they were sprawled out on her couch. Greg had just begun to undress her when her doorbell rang. She sighed in frustration and tried to ignore the doorbell, but her visitor was persistent.

“I suppose you ought to get the door,” Greg said, reluctantly releasing her from his embrace.

“Just a moment!” she called out as she stood up, smoothing her hair and re-buttoning her blouse as she walked to the door. When she finally opened the door, she gasped in shock.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered.

“Hello, Jean,” the man said.

“Greg!” she called out weakly. He joined her in the hallway just in time to catch her as she fainted. As he held the unconscious woman in his arms, he looked up at the man who had so startled his lover.

“Hello, Mr. Lloyd,” Greg said. “Won’t you come in?” He gave the man no time to respond but turned around and carried Jean into the living room, leaving the man no option but to follow.

“Who are you and how do you know who I am?” Teddy demanded once they had seated themselves in the living room. Greg was busy tending to Jean, making sure she was laid out on the sofa.

“I’m Dr. House,” Greg said.

Jean began to stir and Teddy rushed to her side. She sat up, looking at both Greg and Teddy.

“What are you doing here, Teddy?” Jean asked, reaching for Greg’s hand. He allowed her to take his hand, squeezing her hand lightly in quite an uncharacteristic gesture of comfort.

“I came to find you, Jean,” he said. “I’ve left Deirdre.”

“You left your wife for Jean without bothering to consider Jean’s feelings?” Greg asked.

“Who the hell are you?” Teddy asked, frustrated.

“I believe I’ve already introduced myself,” Greg said.

“You gave me your name – that didn’t tell me anything about you.”

“This is Greg,” Jean said.

“And why the hell is he here?”

“I’m doing her,” Greg said.

“Greg, this is no time to be crass,” she snapped.

“It’s true,” he replied calmly.

“I know it’s true,” she said.

“You’re SLEEPING with him?” Teddy yelled, bringing their attention back to him.

“Did you expect her to remain alone, pining for you, all the days of her life?” Greg asked him. Teddy flushed deep red. “She’s not like that, which you should know if you loved her.”

“I do love her – I do love you, Jean,” he said, turning to the blonde woman lying on the couch.

“You haven’t really showed it,” Greg told him. “Making love to her for one night, leaving her the next morning without saying goodbye, and repeatedly choosing your wife over her. She wouldn’t have minded being your mistress, you know, if you’d only let her know that she came first.”

“And how do you know?” Teddy asked him angrily.

“I told him,” Jean said.

“And why would you do that, Jean?” Teddy asked.

“Because he wanted to know,” Jean said. “Because he cares about me. Because I love him.”

“But you love me, Jean,” Teddy said. “Don’t you?”

“Teddy...” Jean trailed off. “I can’t talk about this now.”

“Then when? How much longer to I have to wait to be a part of your life again?”

“How much longer do YOU have to wait?” she cried out. “You made ME wait, Teddy – you’ve made me wait for nearly a decade! You have no right to decide this timetable. We’ll talk when I’m ready to talk,” Jean said. “I’m going to bed. We can talk in the morning.”

“I don’t have any place to stay,” he said sheepishly.

“There are dozens of hotels within a few miles of here,” Greg said. “Get in your car and drive to one.”

“I don’t have a car,” Teddy snapped.

“You can stay on the couch,” Jean said, stopping their argument before it could continue. “I’ll bring a blanket and some pillows down. The bathroom is upstairs, the second door on the left.”

“Thank you,” Teddy said gratefully. Greg glared at him.

“I’ll be in our bedroom,” Greg said, looking at Jean. She smiled softly at him.

“All right, Greg,” she said. “I’ll be up in a bit.” He bent down and kissed her tenderly in full view of Teddy, who clenched his fists tightly as he watched his former lover and her new lover embrace. Greg finally pulled back from her and she squeezed his hand before letting him go upstairs.

“Jean...” he began as soon as Greg left the room.

“I can’t talk about us now,” Jean whispered. “We’ll talk in the morning. I’ll be down in a few minutes with the pillows and blankets.” She stood up but he took her hand.

“I love you, Jean,” he whispered.

“Teddy, please,” she said. “Not tonight.” He let her go; she returned a few minutes later with a stack of blankets and pillows. “Good night, Teddy.”

“Good night, Jean,” he said. She left him sitting alone on her couch while she rejoined her lover in her bedroom.

“Do you still love him, Jean?” Greg asked her.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

“You can’t not know,” Greg said.

“I do love him,” she admitted. “But I love you as well.”

“I love you, Jean,” he said, for only the second time in their relationship. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I don’t want to lose you either, Greg,” she whispered. “But I don’t know what to do.”

He kissed her lightly, gently caressing her cheek. “I know you’ll make the right choice, Jean,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

“How can I make the right choice?” she asked him. “I’ll hurt one of you.”

“Darling,” he said, and she looked up at him in shock. He had never called her darling before, never used any sort of affectionate name for her. “Do what you feel is right.”

“Och, Greg,” she whispered. “I don’t know what’s right anymore.”

“We are,” he replied. “You know we are.”

She turned away from him, tears in her eyes, and he stroked her hair.

“I love you, Jean,” he said again for only the third time ever. She closed her eyes.

“I love you, Greg,” she replied. He kissed her temple lightly, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. She sighed softly and closed her eyes. He continued to hold her, unable to sleep, terrified (though he’d never admit it) of the possibility of losing her.

Downstairs, Teddy, too, was lying awake, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t believe that she had found someone else. She was his, she would always be his. So why was she with House?

[Junora]

you can't stop here.
that is cruel.

I really hope she stays with house.

hugs Lottie

[dianahawthorne]

Chapter 8

Greg’s pager went off at seven o’clock the next morning – it was Cuddy. There was an emergency case, one that had quite extraordinary symptoms.

“I’ve got to go,” Greg told Jean.

“Don’t leave me, Greg,” she whispered. He was torn – he wanted to stay with her and didn’t want to leave her alone with Teddy. But this case sounded so interesting...

“I’ve got to go,” he said again. He kissed her lips lightly. She climbed out of bed and tied her dressing gown around her.

“I’ll walk you downstairs,” she said, and she did. They reached the door and Jean stretched up to give him a light kiss on his lips. “I love you, Greg,” she whispered softly after they broke their kiss.

He brushed a thumb against her cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

She gave him a weak smile and let him walk out the door before turning around, leaning against the wall. Teddy emerged from the living room, clad in his pyjamas.

“Good morning, Jean,” he said.

“Good morning, Teddy,” she replied. She brushed past him on the way to the kitchen. She made a pot of tea while he watched her, unable to get enough of her. She was so beautiful...

Jean turned to him, handing him a cup of tea. They sat down at her kitchen table and he took her hand in his. She flinched slightly – she still felt the same current of electricity running through their hands. Jean knew that he felt it too, for he smiled smugly and held her hand tighter.

“Jean, you know I love you,” he said.

“Do I, Teddy? You’ve never given me any reason to believe that.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” he asked.

“Yes, you are, but this is the first time you’ve ever shown that you loved me.”

“How did you meet House?” he asked her, changing the subject.

“I was ill,” she said. “I was hallucinating. I was admitted to the hospital where Greg was my doctor. He cured me and, well, we fell in love.”

“You were hallucinating?” he asked her. “What were you hallucinating?”

“You,” she whispered. “I was delusional – I believed that you loved me.”

“I do love you, Jean,” he replied softly. “That’s not a delusion.”

“And I love you, Teddy, but... but I love Greg too.”

“How can you love him, Jean? He’s a bastard.”

“And you’re not?” Jean asked. “You’re the one who left me that morning without saying goodbye!”

“I’m sorry, Jean! I know I’ll never be able to make it up to you, but I’m willing to try. I love you so much.”

She stood up, turning away from him, and he followed her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Jean stiffened in his embrace.

“Don’t you love me anymore, Jean?”

She turned and flung her arms around him, burying her face against his chest. “Of course I love you!” she sobbed, her words muffled. “I’ll never stop loving you.”

“Then marry me,” he said, tilting her chin up. She looked into his eyes. “We can move back to Edinburgh, settle down, raise a family...”

“I don’t know, Teddy,” she whispered.

“Or we can settle here – I’ll move here for you, Jean. I’ll get a green card and move here. I’m sure I can find a teaching job somewhere nearby. I’ll do it for you.”

“Give me time,” she said. “Give me time to decide.”

“All right, Jean,” he whispered, caressing her cheek. She allowed herself to lean into his touch for a moment before pulling back.

“Let’s have breakfast,” she said and stepped away from him, walking to the kitchen. She quickly made them both breakfast which they ate in silence.

“Will you show me around your school?” he asked, and she nodded.

“I’ll just get dressed,” she said, and walked upstairs. He gathered his clothes together and walked upstairs to use the bathroom. Just before he entered the bathroom, he noticed that her bedroom door was open, just a crack, but enough so that he could see her slim form. He was unable to help himself but stepped closer to the slightly open door, watching her undress. She looked up when he heard his intake of breath.

“Teddy...” she whispered as he stepped closer to her.

“Jean,” he breathed, wrapping his arms around her waist. She stretched up to kiss him. He quickly helped her shed her clothes as she pushed his pyjama shirt off his shoulders. His lips continued to move against hers as they stumbled to the bed.

He felt so wonderful, so warm, so solidly present, and she loved him so much in that moment. It felt right, oh so right, and all thoughts of Greg left her mind as Teddy’s mouth travelled from her lips down her collarbone, lingering at her breasts. She gasped and writhed with pleasure beneath his touch.

“Teddy!” she gasped as he lavished her body with kisses. He stopped for a moment to smile up at her. “I love you!”

“I love you too,” he whispered, and entered her. She moaned in ecstasy. “Oh, Jean, Jean, Jean!”

“Teddy!”

They collapsed in each other’s arms, sweaty and sated.

Jean began to cry. “Oh, God, what have I done?”

“The right thing,” Teddy whispered, nuzzling her neck. She turned away from him.

“Oh, Teddy...”

“I love you so much, Jean,” he said, interrupting her. “I’ll never leave you again.” She closed her eyes to block out the sight of him; she couldn’t bear to be reminded of her mistake, as recent as it was.

“I’ve got to talk to Greg,” Jean whispered, rolling out of bed.

“Why?” he asked her.

“I just do,” she said, getting dressed. She turned back to him. “I’ll be back soon.”

“I love you, Jean,” he said, and she couldn’t help but smile at him. She had, after all, been waiting ten years to hear him say that.

“I love you too,” she replied, and left the room. She drove to Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, tears streaming down her face. As soon as she reached the hospital she headed directly for House’s office.

He was standing at the whiteboard writing down symptoms as his team suggested them. They looked up when she entered his office.

“Jean!” Greg exclaimed. “What’s wrong?”

She broke down sobbing and he walked over to her, wrapping his arm around her waist. He led her to his inner office, urging her to sit down. He knelt at her feet.

Cameron, Chase, and Foreman watched House’s face as Jean talked to him – it was first comforting, then shocked, and finally angry. He stood up and began to pace around his office, not looking at Jean as she cried.

“Greg, I’m sorry!” they heard her sob. “I couldn’t help it.”

“Damn it, Jean!” he yelled, turning to her. “You have a mind of your own – no one can force you to do something you don’t want to do. So you obviously wanted to.”

“I did want to, but I love you!” she cried, her hands reaching out to him beseechingly. He ignored her.

Cameron, Chase, and Foreman were completely engrossed in their argument – neither of them had ever seen House behave like this, like he had been betrayed.

“It’s your fault!” Jean cried out.

“How do you figure?” House asked her coldly.

“You’re the one who left me alone with him this morning – you must’ve known what would happen. You knew that I loved him.”

“I thought you loved me,” House said. “Silly me – I guess I was wrong. I should’ve remembered that everybody lies.”

“I’m not lying – I do love you!” she cried. “That’s why I’m telling you what happened.”

“Why don’t you just go back to him?” he asked.

“Because I love you,” she sobbed. “I love you.”

He turned away from her. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

“That’s how it’ll always be with you,” she spat out. “Your work will always come first.”

“You should understand that,” he told Jean cruelly. “You’re exactly the same. After all, that’s how you fucked up every relationship you’ve ever had.” He left her sobbing at his desk and rejoined his ducklings.

“Where were we?” he asked.

“Shouldn’t you walk Jean to her car?” Cameron asked.

“Why should I bother?” Greg said. “She’s not an invalid.”

“Because it’s polite,” Chase said.

“If you’re so bothered about it then you walk her to her car,” House snapped. “Or get back to work.”

Chase stood up and walked over to Jean; he helped her up and walked her to the car. He returned fifteen minutes later, eyes wide. Cameron and Foreman looked at him curiously but didn’t have a chance to ask him what he found out until a few hours later.



“What was that all about?” Cameron asked Chase as they were running an MRI on their patient.

“You remember how Jean was having hallucinations of her lover?” Chase asked and Cameron nodded, urging him to continue. “Well, he showed up out of the blue last night.”

“Oh, my God,” Cameron breathed. “And what happened?”

“Well, I think that she slept with him.”

Cameron’s eyes grew wide. “Poor House.”

“Poor House?” Chase scoffed. “He must’ve known what would happen if he left them alone together. I think he should’ve stayed with her, or, at the very least, brought them both along with him today.”

“He trusted her,” Cameron said. “And she betrayed that trust. It’s her fault – she didn’t have to sleep with him.”

“Come on, Cameron! No matter how much Jean loves House, she’s been in love with that other man for what, ten years? And she really loved him – that’s why her hallucinations were of him. Of course she’d sleep with him if he came back to her.”

“I think it was wrong of her,” Cameron said stubbornly. “If she knew that she would want to sleep with him, she should have refused to spend time alone with him until House or someone else was there with them.”

“They’re grownups, Cameron,” Chase said, mock-patiently. “They don’t need a babysitter.”

“Obviously they do!” Cameron replied. “If they’re going to jump in bed together the moment House’s back is turned...”

“I don’t think that’s how it happened,” Chase said. “If it was, she wouldn’t have been so upset. And she would’ve waited to tell House – she wouldn’t have banged into the room like she did. And why are we even arguing about this anyway?”

The MRI had finished; the results were clean. Cameron sighed.

“You’re right,” she said, “we shouldn’t be arguing about this.” They gathered the test results, collected their patient from the MRI, and then brought the results back to House.



She was sitting in her car, her forehead resting against the steering wheel, tears running down her face. She couldn’t believe that she had slept with Teddy... oh, God!

Someone knocked on her window; she turned. It was Wilson. She rolled down the window.

“Do you want to get a cup of coffee?” he asked her. She nodded, tears still running down her face, and stepped out of the car. She locked it and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and they walked the three blocks to the coffee shop.

“So, what happened?” he asked her.

“Teddy came back,” she whispered. “I left Edinburgh because I loved him too much to stay in the same city – the same country, even – with him while he was still married. But now he’s left his wife and wants me to return to Edinburgh with him – he wants to marry me and start a family...”

Wilson looked shocked. “What will you do?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I love Greg so much, but I’ve loved Teddy for ten years. And this morning – this morning!” she broke down sobbing. He handed her a tissue. “Thank you,” she said, looking up at him.

“What happened his morning?” he asked.

“I slept with him,” she said, ashamed. “I couldn’t help myself – I’ve loved him so well for so long – and he said that he loved me...”

“Does House know?”

“Yes, he does,” Jean whispered. “He was angry, so, so angry... he hates me, James!” she cried.

“He doesn’t hate you, Jean,” Wilson said, placing a hand over hers in a comforting gesture. “He’s just hurt.”

“He’ll never forgive me – I’ll never forgive myself.”

“I’m sure he will,” Wilson said, though he knew that he wouldn’t.

“You and I both know that he won’t,” Jean said.

“I know,” Wilson replied.

“What should I do?” she asked him, desperate.

“Go home – it’s House’s move now.”

“But Teddy’s there,” she said.

Wilson sighed. “Drive him to a hotel.”

“All right,” she whispered. “Thank you, James.” He nodded and stood up to walk her back to her car.

She composed herself as she drove back to Marcia Blaine – she must remain composed, like the Mona Lisa, she told herself. It wouldn’t do to break down in front of Teddy again – it wouldn’t do to break down again, period. She had only cried this much once before, the morning after she had slept with Teddy and he had left her – she had not even cried this much when she received news of Hugh’s death during the first Gulf War.

She entered her house; Teddy was waiting for her. When she stepped into the living room, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into a kiss. She responded despite herself – he had always had that effect on her – but soon pushed him away.

“We can’t do this again, Teddy,” she whispered. “I’ll drive you to a hotel, but I can’t be alone with you anymore.”

“What did House say?” he asked her, pulling her down on the couch, ignoring her previous statement.

“He was very upset,” Jean said, completely underscoring his anger.

“Well, he would be. I’d be upset if I was in his place – it would be awful to learn that you were choosing him over me.”

“That’s not what I told him,” Jean said. “I just told him that we slept together again.”

“You’re not choosing me over him?” he asked her, his face falling.

“I need more time, Teddy!” she said. “I can’t make a life-changing decision in less than a day! I need time to think.”

His expression softened, becoming loving, tender. “Take all the time you need, my love,” he said, caressing her cheek lightly. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of his skin against hers. He stopped and she opened her eyes again.

“I’ll drive you to a hotel now,” she said, and he nodded.

“Just give me a few minutes to collect my things.”

“All right,” she said. “I’ll be right back.” She left the room, walking upstairs, and splashed water on her face, washing away her tears while he packed up his things. When she returned, he was waiting for her by the door. They got into her car quietly, not talking, as she drove off campus towards the nearest hotel, a small bed-and-breakfast about a mile away.

“Can I take you out to lunch, Jean?” he asked her after he had registered for a room.

“All right,” she agreed. They did have to eat, after all. They got back to the car and she drove them to a small restaurant close by. They were seated quite quickly and after they ordered, they stared at each other.

“Why now?” she asked him. “Why did you come to find me now?”

“My divorce finally went through,” Teddy replied. “I filed the paperwork the day after you left Edinburgh, but it took all this time for it to be finalised. I want to marry you, Jean,” he said, taking her hand.

Thankfully their lunch arrived, allowing Jean to skilfully avoid his statement. She’d had no idea...

“Excuse me for a moment,” she said when she had finished her lunch. He nodded.

“Would you like coffee or tea?” he asked.

“A cup of Earl Grey, please,” she said and left the table. Walking to the lobby, she pulled out her cell phone and dialled Greg’s number. He didn’t pick up, so she left a message.

“Greg, darling, it’s me. I’m sorry, so sorry... I love you.” She hung up the phone and returned to the table, where their tea was waiting. She and Teddy finished their meal in silence, then called for the bill, which he paid. She then drove him back to his hotel.

“Can I take you to dinner tonight?” he asked.

“I... I don’t know,” Jean said. “I don’t think so.”

“All right,” he accepted her answer, not wanting to push her. She shot him a grateful smile as they pulled into the parking lot of his bed-and-breakfast. She parked and pulled a notepad out of her purse. She scribbled a number on it and handed the sheet of paper to him.

“Here’s my number in case you need to reach me,” she said. “I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” he said, looking deep into her eyes. He tentatively raised his hand to her cheek and leaned in to kiss her. She responded, her lips moving against his, before pulling back.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” she said, and he nodded, getting out of the car.

“I love you, Jean.”

“I love you, Teddy.” She waited until he entered the bed-and-breakfast before driving to Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.

[Junora]

Why do you always have to stop at such cruel places?

More, I need more!!!!

Hugs Lottie

[dianahawthorne]

Chapter 9

She arrived at Princeton-Plainsboro fifteen minutes later and headed straight for House’s office. He wasn’t there, though Cameron was.

“Where’s Greg?” she asked her.

Cameron crossed her arms and glared at Jean. “I don’t know,” she said.

Jean sighed. “Can you page him, please? He hasn’t been returning my calls.”

“He’s busy,” Cameron replied.

“I thought you didn’t know where he was,” Jean said.

“I don’t.”

“Then how do you know he’s busy?”

“I just do – I’ve got to get back to work,” she said rudely, turning back to her paperwork. Jean raised her eyebrow and exited the office, walking to Wilson’s office. He was with a patient, and Jean sighed in frustration. She continued to walk the halls of the hospital, searching for her lover, but did not find him. Jean half-suspected that Cameron had let him know that she was there looking for him – she knew that Cameron had always disliked her, and that dislike was quite clear in their earlier interaction.

Her cell phone rang just as she left the hospital – it was Wilson.

“Jean, House is in Cuddy’s office,” he said.

She sighed – thank God. “I’ll be right there. Thank you.” She hung up the phone and bolted back into the hospital, running towards Cuddy’s office.

House was sitting at her desk, feet propped up, watching his soap on a portable television. He looked up when she entered the room.

“Greg,” she whispered, closing the door behind her. “We need to talk.”

He turned his attention back to his television. She moved closer to him.

“Go away,” he said, his voice cold.

“Greg, darling,” she whispered, sitting on the edge of Cuddy’s desk. “I love you.”

He turned off the television and glared up at her.

“No, you don’t,” he said. “If you did, you never would have slept with him.”

“I’ve loved him for ten years, Greg, you know that,” she whispered. “But I love you too – I love you so much.”

“Well, I don’t love you,” Greg snapped, glaring at her. Tears slipped down her face.

“Greg...”

“Go away, Jean. I never want to see you again.” She nodded sadly, tears streaming down her face, and left the hospital for the last time. He let a few tears slip down his face, took the bottle of Vicodin out of his coat pocket, and popped a few pills. He knew that it wouldn’t make the pain go away, but it couldn’t hurt to try.



She returned home and packed up his things, then called Wilson.

“He’s left me,” Jean said dully as soon as he picked up the phone. “I was wondering if you could meet me at the coffee shop around the corner from the hospital so I can give you his things.”

“Of course,” Wilson said, shocked. “I’ll meet you there in a half an hour.”

“Thank you,” Jean said.

They met at the coffee shop a half an hour later, Jean carrying a bag with Greg’s things.

“What happened?” Wilson asked her.

“He told me that he never wanted to see me again,” Jean said. “So I’ll leave New Jersey.”

“Why?” Wilson asked.

“Because I love him too much to put him through more pain,” she said. “I’m going to marry Teddy and leave New Jersey for Edinburgh.”

“But that will hurt him even more!” Wilson exclaimed.

“He’s the one that said it was over,” Jean said.

“He’s lying! He doesn’t want you to leave him! He’s just stubborn!”

“Do you think that I want to leave him?” Jean asked. “I love him so much. But he will never forget this, and we’ll never be able to continue our relationship.” She stood up and extended her hand. “Goodbye, James.”

He stood and embraced her. “Goodbye, Jean.”

She left the coffee shop and he returned to the hospital, carrying the bag of House’s clothes. He headed to House’s office and dropped the bag of clothes in his lap.

“You’ve just lost the best thing that’s ever happened to you,” Wilson said. House looked up at him.

“It was her fault,” he said.

“Go on telling yourself that, House, if it makes you feel better. But we both know it isn’t true. Jean was the best thing that you ever had, and now she’s gone. She’s going back to Edinburgh and she’s going to marry Teddy.”

“I don’t care,” House said. Wilson sighed in frustration and exited the office. House opened the bag with his things. There was a letter on top, addressed to him.

“Dear Greg,
I am sorry, so sorry for everything. I love you so much, my darling, and I wish that things could have worked out between us. I know it was my fault – it was my fault! Oh, Greg, I know that things will never be the same for us, so I am leaving New Jersey. I’m going back to Edinburgh with Teddy, where we will be married. I’m sorry, Greg. I love you, and I will love you forever.
I love you, Greg.
Jean.”

He closed his eyes and let a single tear slip down his face. It was because of his stubbornness that had lost her.



Jean drove to Teddy’s hotel, walked up to his room, and knocked on the door. Teddy opened it a few moments later.

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” Jean said.

He beamed at her as she stepped into his embrace, turning her face up to his for a kiss.

“I love you, Jean,” Teddy said.

“I love you, Teddy,” Jean replied. “I’ll hand in my resignation to Marcia Blaine tomorrow – let’s go back to Edinburgh.” He caressed her cheek.

“I’ll book the tickets right now,” Teddy said.

“We’ll have to wait until Christmas break to leave,” Jean said, “I’m sure they’ll want me to stay until then.”

“We’ll wait as long as you need,” he replied. “Thank you.”

“For what?” she asked.

“For coming back to me.”



She handed in her resignation the next day, promising to remain until Christmas break. And a week later, she and Teddy were married. They didn’t have a honeymoon, simply stayed at Marcia Blaine and celebrated privately. Jean was sad, though she tried not to show it – she missed Greg so much, even though she did love Teddy. She had waited ten years for Teddy, and now they were married – she should be ecstatic. But she wasn’t. She loved him, she did, but she also loved Greg.

A month after their marriage, Jean discovered she was pregnant. Teddy was overjoyed – he truly believed that he was the father. But Jean knew, deep in her heart, that the baby was Greg’s. And she knew that she could never tell him, knew that he would never know.

They moved back to Edinburgh during Christmas break. She did not find another teaching job, though she wanted to – as she was pregnant, she felt it was best that she stay at home. She did not wish to harm her baby – Greg’s baby – in any way. So she stayed at home while Teddy went to work.

They had moved into a house nearby her old flat, a small house that Jean tried to make a home. It was difficult for her – though she loved Teddy, she wanted to be with Greg. But she managed to make herself love him, knowing that Greg would never want her back. At least she was carrying Greg’s baby –that was all she had.



She gave birth six months after they returned to Edinburgh, to a beautiful baby boy. They named their son Christopher James – James after James Wilson, though Teddy didn’t know that. As soon as her son was placed in her arms, she knew that her suspicions were correct – Greg was the father. She wrote to James soon after her baby was born. She wanted to tell James that Greg was the father, but she didn’t want to put it in the letter. At the last moment, however, Jean wrote in very small handwriting on the back of the letter, “Greg’s the father”. She felt so much better after sending the letter, knowing that someone else knew her secret.



During those nine months, House’s pain had returned. He began taking Vicodin again, in an attempt to dim the pain in his heart and in his body. He slipped back into his old habits and sought refuge in his work, trying to forget Jean. House missed Jean so much, missed her warm body against his at night, missed the sound of her soft voice with its lovely Scottish burr, missed her scent permeating his home. He missed having her take care of him.



Nine months after House had left Jean, Wilson received a letter from her.

“Dear James,” it began, “I hope you are well. How is Greg? I do miss him, miss him so much it hurts. I hope – I hope he is all right. I’m writing to tell you that I just had my first child, a boy, who we named Christopher James – James after you. You were such a good friend to me, James, and I will never forget that. Thank you, thank you for everything.
Best wishes,
Jean.”

Wilson set the letter down, picking up the photograph that was included in the letter. The baby was so adorable – a charming boy with his mother’s blue eyes and many of her features. He focussed on the woman in the picture – though she had a smile on her face, her eyes were sad. He set down the photograph and folded up the letter, but something written on the back caught his eye.

“Greg’s the father,” it said in miniscule writing on the back of the letter. Wilson drew in breath sharply and picked up the photograph again. Studying the baby, he saw that the child’s hair colour was identical to House’s. Luckily for Jean, the baby had most of her features. He hoped that Teddy would never know – Jean deserved to have as much happiness as she could get, and Christopher James deserved a home with two parents – and Wilson would never tell House.

But House found out anyway – he had noticed that Wilson had received a letter postmarked from Scotland, and was curious. He broke into his office and found the letter. It was from Jean.

“Dear James,
I hope you are well. How is Greg? I do miss him, miss him so much it hurts. I hope – I hope he is all right. I’m writing to tell you I just had my first child, a boy, who we named Christopher James – James after you. You were such a good friend to me, James, and I will never forget that. Thank you, thank you for everything.
Best wishes,
Jean.”

House turned the letter over and saw the nearly invisible handwriting on the back of the letter.

“Greg’s the father,” it read, and the letter dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers. He was a father... He picked up the photograph that was included in the letter and looked at the picture of his former lover and his son.

The boy was adorable, with his hair colour and Jean’s features, and he saw a bit of himself in the boy’s eyes.

How ironic, he thought to himself, that he had grown up thinking that his mother’s husband had been his father, and now his son would be in the same position.

Oh, Jean! he thought. How could she not tell him that she had borne his child? Well, he knew why – because he had pushed her away. It was his fault. And now his son would be raised by another man, and he would never know his real father. He buried his face in his hands. Once again, his pride had caused him so much pain – and this pain was far worse than the physical pain he suffered through every day.

END.

Continued in part two, Reunion. The first chapter of Reunion will be posted later today.

[Junora]

Wonderful like always.

Hugs Lottie

[Katheryn Mae]

Wonderful! Going to read Reunion now!