That Cuddy. How does she do it? Even the TSA listens to her.

After Stacey got on the plane, I just stood there, staring at the door. They closed the door and I went over to the window, watching the gateway retract, watching the plane pull away from the terminal, watching it taxi to the runway. Shifting position a little so I could watch it take off, watch it disappear into the clouds.

I don't know how long I just stood there, watching Stacey leave. Part of me knew I needed to get going and tend to practical matters. Like how I was going to get home. But I wasn't ready yet; I needed some more time to think, to just take in the memory without being interrupted. Stacey, letting me touch her, letting me kiss her, kissing me back.

I rested my head against the window, the glass cold against my forehead, and found myself smiling a little. I'll never look the same way at Indian food again.

I don't know how long it took me to realize that my name was coming over the P.A. system again: Passenger Gregory House, please report to gate 15A. Passenger Gregory House....

When I made my way over to the gate, they had a boarding pass for me. Cuddy had worked her magic again, and in another hour I was boarding.

My knapsack was waiting for me at the airline office in Newark. I took the shuttle straight to the hospital to check in on the kids. Foreman and Cam had gone someplace to crash, leaving Chase to make sure Aphasia Man tolerated his loading dose of quinidine. The guy's stain should show some improvement in the next twenty-four hours. As for his marriage... why he married someone he couldn't trust isn't my problem. Of course, it would seem that when you yell at your husband for "not trusting you" and then take off in a huff, you're kind of proving his point that he can't trust you. But then, I'm just a jerk who doesn't get relationships, so what do I know?

As I finished looking over the lab work, Cuddy showed up. "So Stacey was able to snow the Medicaid inspector," she said. "Lucky you. And lucky us that you were able to figure out what was going on with your patient."

"You were too worried." I tossed the papers aside, reached for my coffee mug, and frowned: the mug was empty. "Worst case scenario, he tries to write an exposé of how we failed to cure him and submits 10,000 words of gibberish to his editor. Hey, can you page Foreman for me? Tell him I want him to check and see if there's any fresh coffee." I smiled a little as I watched Cuddy make that little frustrated look I value so highly, but my fun was over when it morphed into a look of concern.

"You should go home," she said. "You've had a long day, and a long night before that."

"And what time did you get in this morning? I see you're wearing your emergency outfit, the one you keep in your office closet. I hope you're wearing the purple thong underwear, it matches the blouse so nicely." Cuddy was back to looking disgusted and weary; satisfied, I set my mug down. "I got some rest on the flight, I'm fine. Besides, we're doctors. Since when do we need sleep? Foreman just needs to get in here so he can get back to his supervisory duties. Otherwise, I don't know, I might do something stupid."

"I don't think there's a keeper alive who can keep you from doing something stupid. God knows Stacey had a hard time of it in Baltimore. Trying to bribe a federal inspector? Threatening a TSA agent?" She shook her head. "Fletcher Stone is stable, isn't he?"

I nodded.

"Then go home," Cuddy commanded.

"I have clinic hours today."

"You can do them another time. Go home."

Stacey. "Did Stacey come in?" I blurted. Cuddy lifted her eyebrows. "I need to return her cell phone," I explained.

"No, Stacey's at home, she took the day."

I nodded. Cuddy looked at me for a long moment and walked to the door. "House? Go home," she said again, and left.

Finally. I put in a page to Chase to ask him about the coffee and turned to the computer. I was intending to surf while I waited for him to call me back, but I found myself turning to the blog instead . January.

How long had I been working on this stupid thing, anyway? I clicked into the archives and found my first post:

I've been surfing around and looking at some of these blogs. Some of them are so cute it's disgusting. Should I start putting little blurbs about my feelings on each post?

All this just from an idle afternoon looking for O.C. spoilers.

I start clicking around. So much has happened this year. All that stuff with Vogler; that whole mess with Chase, knowing for months that Rowan had died and wondering if Chase was ever going to say anything; that stupid bet with Cuddy....

"You have no relationships," Wilson said. "I don't need any relationships," I'd told him, and given the way relationships just screw up my life, I still think I'm right. In just one year, I've managed to get tangled up in a highly unprofessional relationship with a terribly naiive subordinate -- one that I could only get out of by doing the jerk thing that everyone tells me not to do. I'm a jerk because I care.

And in that same year I've managed to save my ex's husband from death, get told by my ex that she is Over Me For Ever, do my best to get over her, find out that she's Not Over Me, fall for her again, and now almost cuckold the husband I just saved from death.

Cam thought she wanted me because she thought she could change me. Stacey didn't want me because I couldn't change me. I tried to change, but just trying to change wasn't enough, I guess because I was trying to change (based on the specifications she'd given her therapist) and hadn't just changed spontaneously. But now she wants me even though I haven't changed on my own and she doesn't think I can change. But her wanting me... that's change enough for me. I think.

And all those people I haven't thought about in years. Old Dr Ball... I wonder what he's doing now? And Eileen... I stopped thinking about her years ago, but ever since that afternoon in the bookstore she's never been far from my mind. She never tried to change me; is that why I haven't heard her voice in years?

And what am I going to do about Stacey?


mood: pensive