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  Reaganomics Chapters 8-11 
 by gorblimey2	

 Chapter 8 Thackery Daiquiri Doc

Tara Rembrandt from dermatology was having a bacherlorette party Friday
night and it was going to start at the Triumph and then move through
several bars in town. At first Tara and most of the women at PPTH thought
Reagan was just a slut from the way she dressed, but Reagan had won them
over and now had a lot of friends at the hospital. She was frequently
invited to hospital events by the staff. Tara really like Reagan and had
begged her to come.

Reagan hadn't slept Thursday night. She had to let Pam know in the morning
if she would do House on Saturday. It was driving her nuts. If she said
no, then he'd probably punish her in some truly inspiring way. If she said
yes, she'd be giving him an easy out, he could have her without strings as
long as he had money.

Pam hung up the phone and shook her head. Sometimes she didn't understand
her own sex. She dialed G.House's cell phone. 

"Hello?"

"Dr. House?"

"Yes?"

"This is Moonlight Escorts. We're sorry to have to tell you but Reagan is
unavailable for Saturday night. Can we send you Paula? I know you like her
and she's available."

"No I don't want Paula. I want Reagan." he stared at Reagan through the
glass while he was on the phone. She was tying furiously and occasionally
look up and at him.

"I believe that she has another customer that night. Perhaps I could comp
you on another girl, to make it up to you."

"Did she say she had another customer? Is that what she said?" House said
it like it was the Spanish Inquisition. 

"Dr. House, I know you're upset but there's nothing I can do, she's
booked. Please call us when we can be of service to you in the future."
Pam hung up, shook her head and laughed. "That man's got it bad." 

House stormed out to the outer office. He looked at her and was clearly
frustrated and angry. The team looked up, expecting him to say something
to them but House was watching Reagan type. She had on her headphones and
was transcribing a tape. She didn't realize he was standing by her at
first. She finally looked up and saw everyone staring at her. She took her
headphones off.

"Did I fart or something?"

"You're...you're...busy Saturday night?"

She went white and looked around the office at the other three doctors.
She couldn't believe he was going to do this right here, right now. "I
have plans Saturday night. I won't be able to type that up for you Dr.
House. Sorry."

"Type, type? I don't want you to type, I don't need your fingers, well,
maybe your fingers would come in handy. I want you to..."

"...Dr. House, I'm sorry, but I am busy. I can't work that night."

"Who's your..."

"Dr. House! Can I see you in your office?" 

House looked silly as if he was being called out. Reagan practically ran
into House's office. House gave the team a shrug and followed.

"What was that about?" She was shaking she was so angry.

"You have a client Saturday night?"

"I don't want anyone to know what I do outside of ..."

"Answer my question," He paused and said in stacatto fashion, do...you
...have...a...client...Saturday...night?

"None...of...your...business." She put both hands on her hips.

He looked down at her, obviously pissed, "Screw you." He turned and walked
out of his office. 

She wished she had someone to talk to, maybe Sadie. She didn't know what
to do or what she was feeling. She ran into the outer office, looked at
the stunned Team and ran out.

"What was that all about?" Cameron asked.

"I don't know but I could swear House looked crazy, almost insane."
Foreman said.

"I think House has fallen for Reagan and he doesn't know how to handle
it." Chase said without looking up from his magazine.

Reagan went home and had a glass of wine before getting ready for the
bachelorette party. She got dressed in her pink sun dress, the only
sundress she owned, and drove to the Triumph.

Wilson could see that House was acting strange. He had burst into Wilson's
office, looked at him, said nothing and then threw up his hands as if in
defeat. Wilson wasn't sure if House was angry or sad or both. "Want to
talk about it?"

"Not yet."

"How about some drinks tonight? I'll buy." Wilson offered. It really
wasn't much of an offer because House rarely paid for their drinks anyway.

"Yeah, I guess."

"What's wrong?"

He shook his head and left. House went up to the roof. I thought we had a
good time. I thought she enjoyed it. I just wanted to take her out for
some fun. Does she really have another John Saturday night? If she liked
me, wanted to be with me, she would have called the guy and backed out. I
wonder if I offered enough money. She needs the money. Maybe the other guy
is giving her more money and she needs it. I should have offered more
money. Screw this, I can't do this. I won't do this. 

House went with Wilson to the Triumph for drinks. They were settling in
for a long night. "Do you want to tell me what's eating you? I had hoped
your little birthday treat would make you easier to deal with...what
happened?"

House was taking a good swig of his second whiskey when they saw a group
of women come in through the door to the patio. House recognized them from
the hospital. Wilson turned to him, "Tara's bachelorette party. She's
getting married tomorrow."

House smiled. He was about to go over and flirt but then he saw her open
the door. Reagan took off her Raybans and looked good enough to eat. She
was in tight white clam diggers with white heels. He recognized her black
low cut shell and the white hoop earrings. Her hair was back in a
ponytail. Her lips were blood red. She took off her glasses, smiled and
waved at the crowd. She didn't see Wilson or House at the bar at first.

House settled back down to watch the group of women. Wilson elbowed House
and pointed at the far end of the bar. They weren't surprised to see
Virgil Thackery already at the bar with a, was that a Daiquiri? How
girlie. It was common knowledge that Virgil's marriage was in the toilet
and he spent more time at the Triumph than at home. Wilson and House
saddled up next to Virgil. He was one of the few surgeons that House could
tolerate. Virgil still had a humble air to him and House liked humility in
his acquaintances. 

"You know Virgil," House said as the bartender brought him another drink,
"You should always talk to your wife while you're having sex, it's easy
now with cell phones."

Wilson shook his head, "How are you doing Virgil?"

"Like crap, I haven't gotten laid in...well let's just say there was still
snow on the ground when we last had sex. I can't take this Rosie Palm crap
anymore. I'm 34, I need more than a growl at night."

House had heard through the grapevine that Virgil's wife was doing the
male nurse in post-op, they had met at the Christmas party Virgil had
thrown for his department. 

Wilson asked, "How bad is it?"

"I called her the other day to tell her I'd be home late for dinner and
the voice mail said that dinner was in the microwave...that bad."

House downed his whiskey and motioned for another. Wilson could see that
House was amused by Virgil's pain and had perked up a little. "You need to
get laid." House said. "You see that blonde?" House pointed out Reagan.
"She's a hooker. For $300 you can get your rocks off and send her packing,
no strings attached."

"HOUSE, stop it. That's Reagan. Don't do that to her, it's not funny."
Wilson was mortified.

"I'm not trying to be funny. She really is a hooker...a part time hooker."
House turned back to Thackery, "She's good. I know, I fucked her last
night."

"HOUSE!" Wilson wasn't sure if he was telling the truth or not. He
couldn't believe that Reagan was a hooker. She looked perky, sweet,
beautiful. 

House batted his eyes at Wilson, "She's a hooker, a whore, a putain, puta,
a lady of the night, tramp, harlot...get it?" He could see that Wilson
wasn't convince. House dropped his bravado and all the drama. He looked at
Wilson and said solemnly and without any fanfare, "She showed up last
night. The agency sent her. We spent the night together." 

Wilson was disturbed, "Reagan?"

House nodded.

"You spent the whole night with her?"

He shrugged his shoulders and a little of his sarcasm came back into his
voice, "She's good. You should try her."

Wilson winced. So that's why House was acting strange. He spent the whole
night with a hooker, with Reagan. His routine is to get them out of the
apartment after the deed is done. He must really like her if he let her
stay. But why is he doing this? Why is he offering her up to other men?
God, he can be such a bastard. 

"House, don't do this. Look at you. You're a wreck. She must mean
something to you. Don't treat her like trash under your feet. She must be
doing it for a reason. Her job must not pay much at the hospital. It's
just economics, she needs to eat."

House looked away from Wilson and then swallowed, took a breath and got
his bravado back, "Hey, just helping a working girl make a buck. She could
do worse than Virgil here. He's a straight up guy, aren't you Virgil?" He
slapped Virgil on the back.

Virgil hadn't been listening, he was watching Reagan, wondering if she'd
do him, "Huh?"

"Go on Virgil, go get you some of that tail." House almost pushed him off
the stool.

Wilson grabbed House's hand and gave him a disgusted look but he could see
that the whiskey was making House mean and spiteful. Something had gone
wrong between them. House was hurt and wanted to hurt her back. 

House laughed at Wilson. Wilson took out his wallet, threw a couple of
twenties on the bar, took a last look at House and left. House frowned and
felt like crap. He watched as Virgil Thackery walked over to Reagan.
Reagan got up, smiled at him and stepped off to the side to talk to him.
She was listening, she had a slight smile on her pretty face and a polite
demeanor. Her smile dropped as she followed Virgil's finger, pointing at
House. She looked at House with so much pain in her eyes that House had to
look away. He finished his drink, added another twenty to the pile and
left. He couldn't take it. What have I done? 

Monday morning House came in to work, wearing his sunglasses, hung over
and tired from a weekend of heavy drinking. Around 9:45 a.m. Reagan showed
up in her sunglasses too and took her seat without saying anything to
anyone. She moved her computer a little so that her back was to everyone.
The three Fellows looked at each other, something was up.

Cameron had to ask, "Is there something wrong Reagan?"

"I'm okay." She answered.

Cameron looked again at the others and shrugged her shoulders. House came
into the outer office and threw several files on the table at the Fellows.
He furtively glanced at Reagan and saw that she had her back to him. He
didn't say anything to her.

"An elderly man reports having recurrent hematuria over a period of two
years. He had undergone transurethral resection of the prostate because of
benign prostatic hypertrophy two years earlier. He had evidence of chronic
renal insufficiency, with a serum creatinine level of 4.4 mg per
deciliter. Multiple urine cultures during the previous nine months have
yielded only "contaminants."

"You're the nephrologist, what's your thoughts?' Foreman asked House.

"Get a C.T. and do another urine culture."

They all took off leaving House in the same office as Reagan who continued
to type aimlessly. She was writing up another grant request for the
department. When she taught at community college she had obtained
thousands of dollars in grants for the English Department. The other
department heads would come to her for assistance in drafting submittals.
She seemed to have the golden touch. No one had asked her to do it at
PPTH. But on occasion she would see a request for grant proposals
mentioned in the journals or newsletters House received and she'd sit
down, get assistance on some of the medical wording, write up a proposal,
sign House's name and submit it. She'd already submitted five of them.

House desperately wanted to say something to her, something witty and
funny, but he was blank. He spent a long time preparing a cup of coffee,
hoping maybe she would say something, but she continued to type. He needed
something to break the ice. He finally realized that he had to submit his
next article soon, he could ask her about that.

"I have to submit my next article by July 1st. I should have it for you on
Monday, okay?"

She just nodded her head.

"I'm going to Dairy Queen at lunch, do you want one of those Hot Fudge
Malts?"

She shook her head "no."

"Well, what's on my calendar for the next few weeks?"

She threw the calendar at him without looking up. He looked at it. He
remembered the seminar at the end of the month in London. Crap, he was
going to have to make sure he had the article written before he left.

"What airlines am I flying?"

Her voice cracked, "American." She tried not to sniff, but it just came
out.

It hit him that she was crying, not that she was mad. He swung her chair
around and looked at her. Her eyes were swollen, red and dotted with
tears. She took her arm and wiped across her eyes. He could have handled
anger, sarcasm or hatred, but not tears? He had really hurt her, down to
the bone.

He tried several times to say something but ate his words each time. She
just looked at him, waiting but he said nothing. She turned back around
and started typing again.

He tried to explain why he did it, "I thought you needed the money."

She just nodded. "Yeah, I do. Thanks."

"So," he wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he had to ask, "did Thackery
work out for you?"

She just nodded again.

He felt sick.

Chapter 9

Wilson and the Damsel

I was having a good time, hadn't even noticed the men at the bar. We were
laughing and making bawdy jokes about Tara's honeymoon when Virgil
Thackery walked up to me. He looked sad and nervous. He had on slacks and
a polo shirt and smelled like Carolina Herrera. 

"Dr. Thackery, nice to see you. Are you here for the party?"

"Uh...no, I just thought I would come over to talk to you." There was a
burst of laughter related to something someone said to Tara. I couldn't
hear Dr. Thackery.

"Why don't we step over here, I can't hear you." We moved away from the
table and I smiled at him to make him feel at ease.

"I...I heard that you might be interested in a business proposition." He
was white and a little clammy.

"Proposition? What kind of proposition?" He can't mean sex and, if so, how
did he know to approach me?

He lowered his voice and looked around, "Sex. I have money."

I kept smiling, my mind working overtime, "Who told you that I...that I
sleep with men for money?"

He raised a finger and pointed at the bar. I saw House's blue eyes and my
heart died a thousand deaths. Why? Why is he doing this? Was I so little
to him that this was his idea of fun? I just stared at him. He ran as fast
as he could out of the bar. I was still stunned when Dr. Thackery said,
"I'm sorry, Dr. House told me you were...I'm sorry."

I turned to him. Now I was angry at House, "Yes, the doctor is right. $300
for an hour, $500 for all night, $150 for a blow job and no back doors."

"Backdoors?"

"Anal sex."

"OH! No, no backdoors."

"Great, where do you want to go?" He looked around like there might be a
bedroom in the restaurant. I realized I was going to have to hold his
gifted hands through this. "Go to the Hyatt, get a room and call me on my
cell, I'll join you after I say my goodbyes here. Oh, and don't forget to
go by the ATM, I don't take checks or credit cards."

He nodded, "Okay, okay." He smiled and left.

I returned to the table and pretended to be engaged in the party but I was
dying. Fuck House, fuck Ryan, fuck men. That's what I'll do, I'll just
fuck them...no feelings, no kissing on the mouth. You give too much of
yourself when you do that. Now I understood.

The phone rang half an hour later. He was in room 232. I made my apologies
and left. I drove to the hotel, parked and made my way to his room. He
answered the door.

"I ordered some champagne. Is that okay?" He asked.

"Sure, it's great, just great. I'll need the money up front though."

He reached in got his wallet and I saw a wad of twenties from the ATM.
"Here's $300, I just need an hour."

"Okay, it's 8:45 p.m. your hour starts now." I went over to the
television, turned on the music channel and began my little show. He came
quickly the first time.

"God, it's been a long time. You feel so good, so soft and warm. You're
good, really good."

I almost laughed, how would he know if I was good? He took less than three
minutes. Oh well, the second go should last a little longer. There was a
knock on the door. Virgil looked stunned, he had forgotten about the
champagne.

"There's a robe in the closet."

He grabbed the robe and some cash for a tip and took the champagne bottle
and glasses from the server. We popped the cork and started drinking. 

"You're so nice, so pretty, why aren't you married with kids?"

I wasn't expecting that. I was expecting the, 'why are you a hooker?'
question. I must have looked stunned because he smiled at me.

"I...I don't have a good track record with men. I was away for a long time
and there weren't many men around. The ones who were around were married."

"Oh." He drank his champagne and we talked for a few more minutes and then
I started to fondle him. He was ready. This time I teased him just to the
point of climax and then backed down several times until he was begging
for me not to stop. I let him come this time and I could tell afterwards
that Virgil Thackery was now a regular.

I went home, took a shower and collapsed on the bed. I started to cry and
I didn't stop crying the whole weekend. I felt worthless, crappy, unloved.
I wish I had Sadie to talk to, she'd cheer me up.

I went into work and wore my sunglasses until I could arrange the computer
to hide my face. But House was persistent and when he finally turned me
around to look at my eyes I wanted to hit him. He took one look and I
could see how sad he was too. We really screwed this one up royally. I
stared at him, hoping he would just say he was sorry. Instead he gave me
an excuse, "I thought you needed the money." I was really screwed. I need
the job and the benefits but working around him was incredibly painful. 

I went to lunch by myself, off campus, and returned to see that there was
a bouquet of a dozen long stem red roses and a card. I thought maybe they
were from House. I looked through the glass, into his office and he was
staring up over his reading glasses at me, watching me read the card,
which had obviously been opened.

 "You're beautiful. Tomorrow? Virgil."

I smiled at how sweet it was for him to send them but I was curious as to
what House thought when he read the card. Did it matter? No. I called
Virgil's cell phone from a land line so it would say PPTH and not raise
any suspicions. I just left a short message in his voice mail, "This is
diagnostics, the appointment for tomorrow is confirmed for 7:00." 

My hooker job was picking up steam. Between House, Virgil and Pete I would
rake in an extra $1325 this week. If Calvin called I would hit the jackpot
for one week. I shouldn't have turned down House. It would have been
another $500, money I could have used. It was all economics, I couldn't
afford to get sentimental. I should keep House as a client.

I pulled out my little pocket calendar and marched into House's office. He
looked up from his work and took off his glasses to look at me. They were
somber, studious, constantly analyzing me.

"I have this coming Saturday open if you're interested." I looked him
straight in the eye like a businesswoman should.

He thought a moment and rubbed his lip with his index finger as if it was
a weighty problem. It must have been at least a minute before he
responded, "No thanks."

"Suit yourself." I wasn't really surprised. He wouldn't want me after
Virgil. Screwing Virgil sent a message to him that I really was a whore.
Well, I am.

I finished my work at 2:05 pm and began to pack up. Wilson walked in and
asked, "Can I buy you dinner?"

My mouth must have dropped because he laughed a little at me. I asked, "A
date?"

"No, just dinner. I'd like to talk to you."

"What time?"

"7:00?"

I gave him my address and turned to grab my purse. I saw House watching
me. He had to have seen me talking with Wilson. No matter. I went home to
clean up. I didn't have a clue what Wilson wanted so I got dressed in a
corset and garter belt just in case it was sex. Some Johns like to take
you to dinner, pretend that it's a date. You just never know. I really
dreaded the thought of sleeping with Wilson, not that he wasn't incredibly
handsome and kind, but he was House's best friend and I could never expect
any kind of truce (not that I was expecting one) with House if I did.

He knocked on my door and I opened it. "Would you like to come in?" I
asked.

"No, we better get going our reservations are in twenty minutes."

"Okay."

He opened the passenger door to his car and I got in. As we were driving
he commented on the weather. "It sure got hot quickly this summer."

"Yes, it did. I still find it hard to get used to the humidity."

"Where are you from?"

"California. You know, dry heat."

"I love California. I would have gone there to practice but my family is
all on the east coast."

"Dr. Wilson, do you have any kids?" I knew he had been married three
times, it was a running joke between House and the team, but I had never
heard if he had kids.

"No. And please call me Jim."

There was a pleasant pause and I turned and looked at him, "House told
you, didn't he?"

Wilson looked at me, unsure of what to say. "Yes, he told me."

"Is this about that?" I sounded childish, not coming out and saying what I
meant. It was just that Wilson seems so sweet, so nice, I felt dirty now
that he knew.

"Yes."

I swallowed hard. So he wanted sex. I'm a whore, what did I expect. My
voice broke but I managed to get it out in one breath, "$300 for an hour,
$500 for all night, $150 for blow jobs, no back doors." I started crying.
Just those little tears, no sobs, nothing traumatic. I just had a hard
time imagining having sex with Wilson.

"Oh! No, no. I don't want sex..." He stopped in mid-sentence, "Are you
crying?" He sounded truly concerned.

"It's just something in my eye. I got it out. I'll be okay. You don't want
sex? Did he tell you I turn tricks?"

"Yes, yes...I knew. Why were you just crying?"

I sighed. "I don't really know. I think I didn't want to sleep with you."

He was a little taken back and I realized that I had fumbled what I meant.


"Oh, Jim, I would love to sleep with you...or I would have loved to sleep
with you but not now, not after all that's happened. Maybe if you had
asked me out on a date earlier...God, I'm making a balls up of this aren't
I." I balled my hands into fists trying to get it right, "Okay, I find you
attractive. I find you sexually attractive, but..."

He started laughing, "This is funny, you're as bad as House right now.
Crap, it's worse than I thought."

"What do you mean?"

We pulled into the parking lot, he parked the car, turned off the motor
and looked at me under the parking lot lamps, "I mean you've fallen in
love with the curmudgeon cripple and he's fallen for the hapless hooker. I
don't know if this is a romantic comedy or a Shakespearean tragedy. Well,
come on, let's go eat."

We walked into the restaurant and were shown our table. It was a bistro
set up with black cane back chairs, white table clothes, black and white
checkered floor. The food was Californian. Kind of a Mexican from Haight
Ashbury mix. 

"So what did you do before you came to Princeton?"

"You mean what did I do with my degree in English?"

"Sure."

"I taught creative writing and wrote Harlequin novels."

He was stunned again. "You were a teacher?"

"Yep. I was full time faculty at a community college. It was the best job
in the world. I loved it."

"Why give it up, why move?"

"A relationship that went very, very bad. Abusively bad."

"Oh, I'm sorry. But why aren't you teaching?"

"I couldn't find a job in it."

"But there are so many other things you could do. Why work for House?"

"Money and benefits. I was about to get kicked out of my apartment when he
hired me."

"But I thought hookers, especially pretty hookers, made a lot of money."

"I'm not a very good hooker, I mean I'm not good at getting clients
because I'm too picky. I can still count the number of clients on my
fingers. I don't need my toes yet. That's not a very good turnover. But
I'm working on it."

He was engrossed in what I was saying. Like it was a really trashy novel
that you don't believe but can't put down. "So you're the romantic
part-time hooker with benefits?"

I chuckled, "I guess you could put it that way. Jim, why did you ask me
out?"

"I wanted to get to know you. House was acting incredibly cruel the other
night and he only does that when he's wounded. I was just wondering what
happened between you two. If you don't mind. You see, he's brilliant at
his job, horrible in relationships. He acts like a teenager most of the
time and it's painful to watch him screw things up."

"Jim, you've been married three times. You can't judge him too harshly." 

"I know. But I at least get into and maintain a relationship long enough
to walk down the aisle. He falls for someone and the minute something goes
wrong in the relationship, he compounds it by being cruel. So, can I ask
what happened?"

"I'll give you the abridged version. An escort service in town didn't have
enough girls so they sent me. I get there and it's House's apartment. I
needed to show the owner of the service that she could trust me to get the
job done so she'd continue to give me a call when she was short on girls.
So I convinced House to try me out. He ordered an hour and ended up paying
for the whole night. I thought we had a great time, we clicked. But, I've
been so wrong, so often that I'm not surprised by what he did." I had my
mojito and was staring out the window trying not to cry.

"What did he do that upset you?"

"He asked the escort service to send me again, on Saturday."

I could see that Wilson wasn't sure what to say. "You're obviously
devastated by this but it seems rather nice of House to have asked for
you. Maybe it's just a guy thing, but I'm not following."

"Jim! I'm sitting less than forty feet away from him and he couldn't just
get up and ask me for a date? He wanted to hire me as a hooker. Don't you
get it? A hooker. No feelings required, he can pay me and not have to
think about what I'm feeling. Easiest date in the world...a hooker. I said
no."

"I'm beginning to understand but you see, even I didn't register that. He
probably didn't want to insult you, make you think he wanted "it" for
free. He knew you needed the money and he was willing to shell out $500 so
you wouldn't think he was cheap. But, I see what you're saying and you're
right. I can't say for certain what was going through his mind but I know
he's acting strange, even for House."

"Then why did he send me a new client?"

"Thackery?" He asked and I nodded. "I told you, when he's wounded, he
striked out. When you said no, you were rejecting him and rather than just
say, "You hurt me," he finds ways to hurt back. He's like a wounded animal
or a little boy. Did you sleep with Thackery?"

I didn't think that was any of his business but he seemed to genuinely
want to help so I nodded.

"So it backfired on him. You called his bluff and he got hurt. It looks
like you got hurt too."

"I think we're beyond hurt. I think we're two ships in the night that are
so far off course we'd be lucky to find any port, let alone each other. I
went back today and offered him Saturday night...as a hooker...and he
turned me down."

"Oh, I see." Wilson looked as if this was grave news. "Yeah, I'd have to
agree. It looks like the U.S.S. House and Grogan have sailed. I'm sorry
that his happened. I think you would have been good for him."

We ate dinner, talked about mundane things like tv and movies and then
just before he left Wilson said, "Reagan, is there some way I can help you
so that you don't have to turn tricks to stay afloat? I could try to find
you another job. Maybe someone else in the hospital has another part-time
job or even a full-time one."

"I don't want you to go out of your way Jim, but if you hear of something,
let me know."

I knew that the only reason I got the job with House was because House
asked for me and Sarah didn't want to argue with him. She knew I was a
felon because I put it down, but she had never said anything to me. I
liked Sarah. Whenever I saw her she'd shake her head and say something
like, "I can't believe you've lasted this long." It was a running joke
between us.

Chapter 10 While the Cat's Away

The next few weeks were hectic. House was frantically trying to get his
article done before flying to London. He was spending a lot of time at
work, writing and re-writing it. He was actually very proud of the case he
was reporting and so he was spending more time on it. Plus, it gave him
more time at work with Reagan. 

She was working extra hours to stay on top of everything. The Fellows had
decided that Reagan was the perfect person to type up their patient notes
and rather than use their down time to catch up on charting, they simply
handed tapes to Reagan to transcribe. This pissed Reagan off a little
because the department handled maybe one patient a week, giving the
Fellows more than enough time to chart their own notes.

House and Reagan appeared to ignore each other except for matters dealing
with work. Despite the appearance, they were both keeping watch on each
other. House sometimes asked Reagan to stay a few hours to type up his
patient notes too.

"I need you to type these notes up. For every hour you work over four I'll
let you have an hour off while I'm gone."

"With pay?"

"No, I'll scratch you under the chin when I get back. Of course with pay."
He watched her as she stood up and looked intently out into the hall.
House turned around and saw Ryan Geffler go by.

"What, Geffler forget to pay you?"

She looked up at him and sighed. Whenever they were alone he made blatant
cheap shots at her about being a hooker. When others were around he was
more obscure but just as cruel.

"No, I just... forget it." She sat back down.

"What is it about him? Oh, I remember, you went out on a date with him. I
bet he never called you back for another one."

She looked up at him, her mouth was open and her eyes clearly registered
shock.

"It's his M.O. He dates to keep the rumors down, but he nevers asks a
woman out twice."

"Really? Why?"

"He's gay. I saw him at a film festival with his boyfriend, a tech down in
the labs."

"I'll be damned. Why try to hide it?"

"Parents don't approve and they own half of Trenton. Don't tell me you
were beating yourself up over him?"

"I normally have good gaydar. But looking back I think I was just so
surprised that anyone would ask me out that I shut it off. I just wanted
to feel like a girl again."

"What the hell is that suppose to mean? You get paid to be a girl."

"I get paid to be a woman. Forget it. It means nothing." She regretted
saying it. It was too late House's "sexth sense" had been alerted.

"No...not nothing. You must get asked out on dates all the time."

She kept quiet and pretended to be busy so she could ignore him. He got
down in her face and with the light in his eyes dancing said, "What did
you mean, 'feel like a girl again'?"

"You see doctor, I used to be a man, had to go off my hormones, but now
I'm back on them...feelin like a girl again. Now leave me alone and let me
get back to typing up your nonsense."

He took a chair, turned it around and straddled it backwards, staring at
her. "Well, Wilson asked you out the other night."

"As a friend. It wasn't a date."

"Did you wear special lingerie when he took you to dinner?"

"Yeah, but he refused to pay to take a peak. I have it on right now, want
a peak for $100?"

"Sorry, haven't been to the ATM today."

"Too bad, it has little black bows on it. Why don't you leave me alone?"

"Because you're fun to humiliate."

"Yeah, well you would know. You really got me good at Triumphs."

His smile left his face and he looked down. "Yeah, that was stupid, huh?"

"Not really, he's a regular now. I guess I owe you."

She could tell that she had just scored one. He was trying to keep his
face from showing how he felt but she saw him clench his teeth slightly,
look away and swallow hard.

"Just trying to grease the wheels of the economy. So, how are tricks? Just
last night the girl I screwed from Moonlight told me that she's been busy
every night for the last two months."

Now it was Reagan's turn to feel hurt. She laughed it off and said, "Well,
just make sure she gets her STD tests done."

"That reminds me, are you getting tested?"

"Every quarter. I'm clean just in case you're worried about my health or
want to schedule that Saturday night."

"Hell no, I'm worried about my health."

"Dr. House, I really need to get back to typing. This has been lovely, but
I have work to do."

He got up and put the chair back, grabbed his cane and said, "Oh, one more
thing. While I'm gone you're going to have to feed Steve."

"Steve?"

"Steve McQueen, my pet."

"I didn't see a pet the other night?"

"He's in a cage in the kitchen. He's a rat."

"I have to feed a rat?"

"I'll give you the key before I leave. He gets some rat pellets. I'll
leave instructions."

Later that evening House and Wilson were on their way to the movies when
House told Wilson, "Stop by Princeton Pets."

"Why? Are you buying a pet?"

"I'm buying a rat."

"Another rat? Why?'

"Because I told Reagan that she had to feed Steve McQueen while I was
gone."

"But Steve's been dead for months."

"No, Steve is about to be resurrected."

"House, what are you up to?"

"She won't be able to resist going through my things so I'm going to
"plant" some stuff."

"Like what?"

"Phone numbers, letters and photos for other women. Women's lingerie. You
know."

"You're going to try and make her jealous? Why don't you just ask her out
on a date?"

"Who said I wanted to date her? I'm over that. I just want to torment her.
She still wants me, I can tell."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's what they call it when someone goes out and has fun
on a regular basis, "pining for House.""

"I tell you, she's still has the hots for me."

House bought a new rat and installed it in Steve's old cage. Steve McQueen
Jr. happily ran on his wheel and ate contentedly all day. House packed and
left for his five days in London after giving Reagan keys and
instructions. House also installed three web cams that were motion
activated, one in the living room, one in the kitchen and one in the
bedroom. 

The first day that House was away, Reagan was a good girl, she unlocked
the door, walked in, put his mail on the table, fed Steve and was out the
door. House checked the webcam and was disappointed. Nothing. 

The next day she came in went into the kitchen, took out a glass, drew
some water from the tap and had a drink. She went over to the cage, took
Steve Jr. out and petted him for a few minutes. After hand feeding him,
she put him back in his cage, washed the glass and put it in the cupboard.
She left. House was even more disappointed. 

The third day she came in with his mail and looked through the envelopes
before putting them down on his table. She went in to the kitchen and fed
Steve McQueen. Reagan was going to leave but she put her purse down and
went into the living room. She opened up the piano and hit a few keys.
Then she sat at his piano. She played a few songs, got up, put the cover
down on the keys and left. House watched the webcam from his hotel room.
She plays piano? 

On Friday after work she went into the kitchen, took Steve out and played
with him for awhile. She went back into the living room, sat down and
looked around. She went to the shelves, pulled a book, sat down on the
couch and read for an hour and then left.What is wrong with this woman.
Has she no curiosity? 

Saturday, the day that House was scheduled to leave London, Reagan was
feeling incredibly depressed. Her aunt had just been hospitalized in the
final stages of leukemia and she had to admit to herself that she missed
House. She wanted a drink. She fed Steve and then went into the living
room and took out a bottle of whiskey. She poured herself a whiskey and
put on some music. She started dancing. House had already boarded his
plane and was oblivious to Reagan's party for one. 

Reagan began playing the musical instruments that hung on the wall,
poorly. She went through his CD collection and played it too. She looked
at his high school album. He looked young. She had another couple of
drinks. She went back to his bedroom and opened his dirty clothes hamper,
got out a t-shirt and smelled it. The smell made her happy and sad all at
the same time. She took off all her clothes leaving just her panties on
and danced around a little. She put his t-shirt on and went back out to
the living room and played more music, sang, danced and played the
piano...and drank. She went back to his bedroom to fetch her clothes and
leave, saw the queen sized bed, crawled on top and passed out.

House was tired. The plane had been delayed and he was getting home at
1:00 a.m. He walked in and saw his musical instruments spread all over the
living room floor along with CD cases. His new bottle of whiskey was half
empty. Is Wilson here? 

House went into the kitchen and then came back to the living room. He felt
like he was living a modern day version of Goldilocks and the Three Bears.
I wonder where Goldilocks has gone? He hung up his coat and started down
the hall. He flipped on the light in his bedroom and saw a little blonde
woman laying in his t-shirt on his bed. He couldn't see her face but knew
she had to be Goldilocks. He got undressed, noticed the whiskey glass on
his night stand and sat down on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes.
He took off his pants and got under the covers. He could smell the whiskey
wafting off of her. He could see she was passed out and dead to the world.
He lifted the t-shirt up for a good look at her breasts, smiled and went
to sleep.

Chapter 11 The Cat's Back

I woke up slightly drunk and aware of the fact that I wasn't in my own
bed. I could hear someone snoring but my eyes and head hurt so bad it was
hard to open them to see. I finally managed to get one open and realized I
was laying on top of the covers of someone's bed. Is it a John? I turned
towards the snoring and tried to focus. I saw the beard first and then the
profile of his nose. His mouth was open and he was loud. House! I let out
a short but loud squeak. Oh my God, I passed out in his bed! House snorted
as he was startled from sleep by my squeak. 

'Huh?" He yelled out. 

I put my hand to my mouth to stifle a laugh. He was trying to wake up,
figure out what was going on, just as I had a few minutes ago. I quietly
tried to back off his bed in the hopes he would just go back to sleep but
one blue eye latched onto me.

He laid his head back down. "Good morning Goldilocks."

"Welcome back. I'll just get my things and get going. I fed Steve. He's in
good shape."

"My living room looks like someone had a private party last night."

I flashed on last night and realized I had left a mess. I was embarrassed,
"As soon as I find some pain killers I'll clean it before I go. Do you
have any pain killers...aspirin?"

He reached over and threw me his Vicodin bottle. 

"That's a little heavy for me, do you have naprosyn?"

"Yeah, in the cabinet out in the kitchen."

"Thanks. I'm sorry about this. I don't normally breach someone's trust. I
had some bad news and I just wanted a drink. I got carried away. I really
feel bad about this, really."

I guess House felt sorry for me. "What was the bad news?"

"My aunt is in the hospital, she's terminal. I don't have the money to go
back and see her." I shook my head like I was trying to shake the thought
out of my head, "I'm just feeling sorry for myself. Look, you go back to
sleep, I'll pick up your living room and be out of your hair."

I started to leave his room but turned and looked over my shoulder, he had
rolled to his side to purposefully watched my butt as I walked out of his
bedroom. I got to the kitchen and quickly realized that he had followed me
into the kitchen and watched as I was trying to find the cupboard with the
naprosyn. He went over to the other side, pulled it out and gave me the
bottle.

"I feel like I have a marching band in my head and mouth. Ugh."

He gave a little chuckle and said, "Go take a shower, it will make you
feel better. There's a new toothbrush in the drawer in there." he paused
and looked at me with a grin, "and leave my t-shirt where you found it. Go
on, I promise not to do anything nasty while you're in there."

I took the naprosyn and went in to the bathroom and started the shower. I
was wondering if he might join me. I could imagine his hands exploring my
breasts and body and him kissing me deeply, but he was true to his word
and didn't come in. I thought about storming through the bedroom door and
grabbing him. But I realized that there were too many things to consider
before doing something impulsive and wreck less, too much water under the
bridge.

I did feel better, especially after brushing my teeth. I wondered what I
should do with my new toothbrush. In a defiant gesture, I hung my
toothbrush up in the holder next to his and smiled. He'll think of me when
he sees that there.

I slipped back into the bedroom and he wasn't there. Walking down the hall
I saw that he had picked up the instruments. I heard him laughing in the
kitchen so I went in to see what he was doing. He was sitting with a
laptop laughing his butt off. He looked up and over the edge of the laptop
monitor and said, "Now this was worth the wait. I especially like this
little dance." He hit enter and turned the laptop around for me to see. 

The screen was split into three with the largest screen on the bottom, a
camera on three different rooms. There I was in the right upper quadrant,
you could barely see me in the corner of his bedroom, digging through his
dirty clothes hamper. My butt is up in the air as my head is briefly
dunked into what was obviously his dirty clothes. I'm singing, "Missing
You." I grab a t-shirt and pull it out and dance around the room, singing
and smelling it. Then I'm dancing on his bed and stripping, my breasts
bobbing as I dance in just my panties. I turn the t-shirt back from
outside-in and put it on. All the time I'm singing and dancing. "...in
your world I have no meaning. So I'm trying hard to understand. It's my
heart that's breaking down this long distance line tonight..."

I could feel my entire body blush, "God, Greg, I'm so embarrassed. I don't
know who that woman is. I was really, really drunk and stupid. Please
forgive me."

He looked at me like I just took all the fun out of it. "Do you think I
really care if you run around, drink my whiskey and dance? I had hoped
you'd go through my drawers, rifle my papers, invade my privacy, but you
didn't."

"I wanted to, but I remembered you didn't want me going through your
locked drawer at work, so I decided to curtail my criminal activities. I
really am sorry about this..." I pointed at the screen.

"Don't be, I'll always treasure it. Look for it on My-Space."

I just grinned. He poured me some tea, "I know you don't drink coffee very
often, I figured I'd be safe with tea."

I looked at him in just his boxers and his hair mussed and wondered why he
had bothered to get up. He liked to sleep. I was just about to drink the
tea straight down and leave when he said, "The crew races are today down
on the lake, want to go watch?"

I really wanted to sleep off my hangover, but I figured he was trying to
hand me an olive branch and for the sake of the department, I should
accept it. "Sure, but I'd like to change and check on my aunt."

"What's wrong with her?"

"Leukemia."

He said nothing but gave me a sympathetic nod and sad face. He looked
around the kitchen, "I'm hungry and don't have any food so let me get a
shower and we can go to breakfast."

"Okay."

He came out about fifteen minutes later in a t-shirt and shorts. He really
did have nice looking legs. He grabbed a ball cap and we drove first to my
place. He came in and looked around the studio apartment. He went over and
picked up my photo of me and my Mom and my aunt. I was undressing and
putting on my clam diggers and little t- shirt that said, "Rehab is for
Quitters." He smiled when he saw my shirt.

"Your Aunt?" He asked picking up the photo.

"On my left, my Mom on my right."

"Is your Mom with your aunt?"

"No, she's dead, lung cancer. She was a smoker." I started lathing on the
sunscreen and then threw it to House and he put some on. I put it in my
purse for later.

"Sorry."

"I'm ready. I grabbed a white ball cap with the PPTH logo and pulled my
pony tail through the back of it. I topped it off with my white hoop
earrings, shorter heels, and white hobo purse. I put a bottle of water in
my purse and we were out the door. I knew he had restrained himself from
turning my apartment inside out and I appreciated that.

He shook his head at me.

"Problem?" I asked.

"You look hot."

 "Thanks!"

We went to Mama's Kitchen and had breakfast. He had some big-ass eggs and
bacon breakfast. I had blueberry pancakes. We talked about, and I still
can't believe this, quantum physics! We both had our own pet theories
about time and singularities, so it made for a lively debate. 

"You know, in another universe we never had a fight and we're still doing
each other. In another we're married and have four kids." I said.

He smiled widely as he put hash browns into his mouth. "Yeah, and in
another Universe I took out a gun and killed you. And four kids? There's
no universe where I would have four kids. Two max, but not four."

"Ouch! That's cruel."

"No, you turning me down for that Saturday night was cruel."

"Drop it. I'm having a good time, let's not get into that, okay?"

"Yeah, well Helen Bonham Carter called me the other day and begged me to
take her back. I said no, not until she got herself into a smoker's
rehab."

"Poor Helen."

We left and drove over to the crew races, watched them for several hours.
I rooted for UCSD, my hometown team. He thought I was a traitor and I have
to admit he drowned out my hoorahs with some pretty mean retorts. "You
call that paddling? I gave my girlfriend a better one this morning." I
tried to hide my face but it didn't stop people from staring, thinking I
must be the girlfriend.

At around 2:00 p.m. we went in search of food at the booths set up
throughout the launch area. He bought me the most disgusting hot dog and
diet coke, but I was hungry and I ate it. 

"I think I just ate the entrails of a skunk." I said.

"No, I did. You just got their testicles." We were laughing when his face
went cold and then sad. I turned around and saw the woman with high arched
eyebrows and new it was an older version of the woman in the photo I had
seen in his desk.

"Stacy?" I asked.

He nodded yes, "And her husband Mark."

"Want to leave, they're coming this way."

"It doesn't matter. She's already seen me. She'll just assume that I'm an
unhappy misanthrope with no one to love and feel sorry for me. He'll gloat
because he has her and I don't."

Now, I know that when I dress right, I'm hot and today, I'm hot. I had
been getting appreciative stares all day. So I took pity on House. I've
been in his position myself ...seeing that the ex is in a better place
than you hurts. And the last thing you want them to know is how miserable
you are. I watched them walk towards us and just when the four of them got
to a point where I knew they would have to recognize House I grabbed his
face, pulled him down and gave him the most erotic and sexual kiss I could
muster. At first he wasn't doing anything and I was beginning to think it
had been a bad idea. But then his mouth and whole body responded and I do
mean his whole body. It ended up being one of those kisses where half the
population stops to watch and the others says, "Get a room."

We pulled apart and House looked up. Stacy was smiling one of those, 'Well
isn't that cute' smiles. I acted like I hadn't noticed her before and
played dumb. 

"Hello Stacy." House said. He turned to Mark, "Hello Mark." He put his arm
around me. "Honey, this is Stacy and Mark Warner. This is Reagan Grogan."

"Glad to meet you. How do you know Greg?" I purposefully asked to give her
the impression that he never talked about her.

House snickered, "Stacy and I lived together for five years."

"Oh, right. You did mention that briefly. Well, I can see why, you're very
pretty." I said sweetly.

Mark blurted out, "So are you." I gave him a nice smile.

Stacy introduced us to the couple they were with and asked if we wanted to
join them while they watched the next race. I spoke up, "That would be
great, you can tell me what Greg was like when you were together." 

House was shell shocked. He obviously didn't want to be around them at
first, but then he warmed up to the idea. We found a dockside table at a
restaurant to have drinks and watch. I sat between Mark and House. Stacy
was on the other side of House and the other woman, Mary, was next to her.
House had his arms draped around my shoulders. When the waiter came, House
ordered my drink without even asking me, as if we had been going out for
awhile. I was getting a Mojito, which I love, so no complaints except that
I really didn't feel like drinking. I put my hand on House's upper thigh,
my fingers resting close to his crotch. I knew Stacy could see it. I kept
talking to Mark, engaging him in conversation and laughing at all his
stupid jokes. 

House excused himself to go to the bathroom. Stacy went into interrogation
mode. Now I've been interrogated...in the Pen there's an investigation
every five minutes...so I was ready. "So, Reagan. How long have you known
Greg?" 

I didn't lie because I knew she would ask House questions based on what I
said when he got back. "Three months. We met at the hospital when he
complimented me on my outfit."

"Is it serious?"

"I guess you'd have to ask him but my toothbrush is hanging right next to
his in his apartment so I guess you could say that. We see each other
nearly every day."

"Well, it's only been three months."

"True, but he expects me to be around for a long time. He even had me meet
everyone at work. I feel like part of his team. Cuddy said she fire him if
he didn't treat me right, isn't that sweet?"

Stacy's mouth was pinched together. Mark asked me, "Do you think you might
get married?"

"Well," and I smiled broadly, "Just this morning we were debating on the
number of kids we would might have. I said four, he said two max."

Her face went white and all pretense of being nice dropped away. "He wants
to have kids with you?" She asked with the voice of a sad little girl.

Now I felt sorry for her, "We were just bantering back and forth. I said
four, he said two."

House joined the table again and everyone stared at him. He took a deep
breath, "Did I forget to zip up?" He looked down at his shorts.

"I was just telling Stacy about our conversation this morning. I said four
children and you said..." I held my hand out to House for him to chime in.

He remembered the quantum physics discussion, smiled and said, "Two, max."

I smiled at her and Mark. I could see that this was difficult for her to
take. That some other woman might have his children was the ultimate blow.
I had hoped it wasn't too much.

Mark piped in, "Reagan was telling up you met her at the hospital."

"I noticed the outfit first, then Reagan. Can I get another drink?" House
was starting to feel a little uncomfortable with the discussion so he
changed it.

When we left, he asked me, "What happened back there?"

"She asked where we met. I said the hospital. She asked if it was serious.
I told her we spend a lot of time together, almost every day. Mark asked
if we were going to get married. I simply said that just this morning we
were discussing how many kids we would have. End of conversation."

"You are ornery. Just enough of the truth but out of context. I love it.
Let's go to the movies. I was going to go see, "Life According to Brian"
at the arts cinema. It starts in forty minutes."

"Oh yeah! I love John Cleese...I love Monty Python. But I need something
to wear in the theater, I get cold in a/c."

"I have a sweatshirt in the car."

We saw the movie and it let out around 8:00 p.m. It had been cold in the
theater and I was glad I had grabbed House's sweatshirt. As soon as we hit
the sidewalk I started sweating so I took it off and carried it. We were
doing our best imitations of scenes in the movie and so I wasn't paying
attention when we crossed the alley. The young, obviously high on crack,
guy with the rather large knife, seemed to come out of nowhere.

"Hey you! asshole. B!tch, give me yo' money." He was brandishing the knife
in a menacing gesture, one he had probably seen on television. I thought
it was straight out of a Chuck Norris episode. He should have thought it
through because the knife wielder in that episode got his butt kicked.

House started to reach in his pocket for his wallet and money. I held my
purse close to my body and said, "F3ck you." With as much disgust as I
could. "You think I'm letting you take my hard earned money so you can buy
some tits and get high? Go get an enema d!ckwad."

I looked at House and I wasn't sure who he was more afraid of, me or the
kid. "Reagan, may I point out that he has a knife." House turned to the
kid, "Look, she's just kidding, SHE'LL GIVE YOU HER MONEY." He said it
loudly for my benefit. 

I turned towards him, "Give him yours but he's not getting mine."

"Lady, I'm not playin' here...it's been a long time since my last fix and
I don't give a sh!t what you think you're doing, but you're going to give
me your money or I'll hurt you and cut up your face."

"I'm not afraid of a knife...now if you had a gun..."

"Reagan! Give him your money, he's not one of your tricks that you can
charm," House said nervously.

"Shut up House." I pulled the purse closer to me defiantly. In the
meantime I was quietly wrapping my right hand in House's sweatshirt. The
kid stabbed at me and I literally grabbed the blade of the knife with the
sweatshirt, tugged it quickly and kicked his balls all in one move. I had
the knife and he fell on the pavement rolling in pain. started kicking him
and then stomped in his groin so hard that I fell back on my butt. By this
time, House had his cane at the guy's throat. I took the knife and was
about ready to plunge it, just as I would have plunged a shank at the Pen,
but House grabbed my arm.

"Aren't you getting a little carried away?"

The guy was rolling in pain, "You crushed my balls, you crushed my balls
you slut."

I backed off just as sirens came around the corner. Someone must have seen
it and called it in. I had the knife in one hand and House was standing
with his cane on the guys chest. He was in too much pain to get up and
run.

The police took us in to get a statement while the twenty year old kid
went to the hospital. Within minutes of reaching the police station we
were separated and I knew then that they had run a rap sheet on me. I was
thrown into an interrogation cell and two detectives came in.

"Well Reagan, we called your probation officer. A felon with a knife? Bad
girl. Now why don't you tell me what you were really doing in that alley?
That kid says you jumped him , demanded drugs and money."

"I'm going to tell you once and only once what happened and then I want a
lawyer." I proceeded to give them a blow by blow account of the incident.
After I was done I looked up and saw Ken outside talking to another
detective. Ken kept looking in at me. House was standing off to the side
watching all of this and being questioned by a detective. They made me
stand and in full view of House they handcuffed me and sat me back down. I
almost died of embarrassment.

Chapter 12 Jailbird

House and Reagan were politely placed in the back of the unmarked sedan
and offered a ride to the precinct house. House was familiar with the
station. His old nemesis, Detective Tritter, worked out of it. At first
everyone was polite but then House saw a detective motion one of the
detectives over. He had a paper printout of something in his hand. The
detective went over, he looked at the sheet and then at Reagan. House was
pretty sure Reagan's color changed from a healthy pink to an ashen white.

"Excuse me, Ms." The detective looked at the sheet of paper, "Ms. Grogan,
can you come with us?"

Without saying a word she got up and went with them. House thought that
odd, he never knew Reagan to do anything without asking questions or
giving lip.

The detective with House took a call and while he was on the phone House
could see the detectives crowding around Reagan in the interrogation room.
They were both talking, no, more like arguing with her. She was angry and
obviously told them something. They made her stand. House was getting
nervous, something was wrong, desperately wrong. They cuffed Reagan and
House felt his blood pressure rise and and his heart rate go through the
roof. Did she give them some lip? Christ, first she talks back to a guy
with a knife and now the police? She's my kind of woman.

A tall man in his late thirties, dressed in a pinstriped shirt and Dockers
walked in and from the way he looked at Reagan, House could tell he knew
her. One of the detective came out and talked to him. They both went back
inside with Reagan and the other detective. The pinstriped man began
talking to Reagan who was calmly answering him.

House turned to the detective on the phone, "What's going on?" The
detective ignored him. House pushed down on the receiver buttons of the
phone, cutting the detective off. 

"HEY!" The detective yelled at him.

House yelled back, "What's going on?"

The detective looked over his shoulder and saw the crowd in the
interrogation room with Reagan. He got up and went into the interrogation
room and came out smiling.

"Dr. House, are you sure your girlfriend in there didn't start this whole
thing and that it was a drug deal gone bad? We know about your drug
problem. Your girlfriend spent five years in the Federal Pen for drug
smuggling." He paused and waited for House's reaction, "You don't have to
worry, she's already spilled her guts. She told us how you two went out to
score some drugs from the kid and when he didn't cooperate, she pulled the
knife and you two beat him up. So, why don't you give us your version of
it?"

House was reeling from the news that Reagan had been in prison for five
years. But one thing he did know, Reagan typically told the truth and
she'd never confess to something she didn't do. House laughed at the
detective. "Dude, I have our cinema stubs, it happened like we said. Oh,
and my girlfriend can kick your girlfriend's ass."

"Well, your girlfriend in there broke her probation. She's going back to
the Pen for being caught with a knife in her possession with the threat of
great bodily harm. If you don't want to tell us the truth, go ahead and
sign the statement we took earlier and you can go... for now."

House stood up and started yelling, "But it wasn't her knife, she took it
away from that drugged out asshole."

"Dr. House, your girlfriend in there busted one of the guy's balls. He's
only got one left. She's in a lot of trouble. Go home; she won't be
getting out tonight . She won't be getting out for a long time."

House walked as fast as he could over to the interrogation room and banged
on the window with his cane. "It wasn't her knife! It wasn't her fault!
Jesus Christ, she was protecting herself, she was protecting me!" He was
yelling over and over. Reagan just sat quietly with her head hanging down,
unable to look at him. Ken stepped out.

"Are you Dr. House?" He said extending his hand to shake. "I'm Ken, I'm on
Reagan's side."

House eyed him suspiciously. He shook his hand. "We were attacked, she
took the knife from the guy. It wasn't her knife."

"I know that, but the guy who attacked you doesn't have a rap sheet and
she does. Look, I'm going to get the public defender up here as soon as
possible but it's a Sunday and the earliest she can get out is Monday
afternoon. Why don't you go home. I'll stay with her until they take her
to jail."

"Who are you exactly?"

"Her probation officer."

"Why was she in prison?"

"You didn't know? She told me that she didn't lie on her employment
application, I hope that's true."

"I never saw her application. What was she in for?"

"She flew from Ecuador to Los Angeles with some coke in her luggage. But,
I've worked with her for a year now and I'm a pretty good judge of
character and I think she was framed by her boyfriend. He put the coke in
the luggage and then booked a different flight. When she was arrested he
disappeared. I don't think she knew she had it."

House felt like he just fell down the rabbit's hole. Nothing was making
sense. "I'd like to talk to her."

"I can arrange that but you can't be alone with her."

He nodded. They went to the door of the room.

Ken gave the two detectives a wave, "Hey guys, give them a minute. I'll
babysit."

The two detectives left the room. Ken and House walked into the
interrogation room.

"Are you okay?" House asked her in voice that was so gentle she wasn't
sure it was him.

She tried to get up but lost her balance because of her arms being cuffed
behind her. She fell back into her chair and sighed. She looked up at Ken
and then over to House.

"I'm so, so sorry." Her eyes teared up. "I never wanted you to see me this
way." The tears started racing down her cheeks. "I don't want you to stay.
Please leave. Go home. Just leave, I'll be fine. If they send me back,
it's not that bad where I'm going. Tell everyone at the hospital that I'll
miss them."

House was stunned, she was talking like she was guilty and had been
sentenced, "What the F3ck are you talking about? You're innocent and we're
going to get you out of this mess."

"I've been innocent before Greg and I can tell you from experience,
Justice IS blind. These detectives want a collar and arresting a drugged
out twenty year old versus sending a felon back to prison is a no brainer
to them. They get more points for putting me back in prison."

House looked at Ken for confirmation, "She's right. The system rewards
cops who send felons back into the system. It's just the way it works."
Ken shrugged.

"Bullsh!t. I'm going to hire you an attorney and he'll..."

"NO! I won't let anyone else hire attorneys for me. I'll be fine with the
Federal Defender, just go home Greg. The longer you're here the more I
hate myself. Please go home."

House looked at both of them. He was frustrated and furious, but he could
see she meant what she said. Her tears had dried and now she seemed
resigned to her fate.

House couldn't believe this. It was so Catch 22. He looked at Ken and then
at her, stood up and grabbed his cane and turned to leave. 

"Greg!" She yelled after him. He turned around. "For what it's worth, I
had a great time today. Thanks. It's something that will help when I'm
back inside." She smiled and tears started up again.

House had to resist running back in and holding her. He said nothing. He
turned and left, feeling like he was drowning in a river.

House hired her a lawyer anyway. She called House after she went to see
Reagan early Monday morning, "She's refusing to let me represent her.
She's pretty scrappy isn't she? Dr. House, this smells...I looked at her
file and it just doesn't make sense. She was put in prison for smuggling,
not a violent felony, and she was a model prisoner. I believe her. I don't
think a jury is going to buy the kid's story but she'll be in jail for
quite awhile waiting to prove it."

House felt sick to his stomach. "I'll try to talk her into letting you
represent her."

He went down to the women's jail and waited at a table in a room with bare
walls and dirty floors. Reagan was brought in, looking smaller and more
petite than usual. She was swimming in the bright orange jail apparel. 

"You look lovely in that shade of orange."

"Why are you here? Please go home, please don't try to help me. People who
help me just end up with more headaches than it's worth. Please Greg."

"Bite me." He said gently and then smiled. "I'm going to break in to your
home and get some paperwork for the attorney. She needs your prison
release documents and felony case file. She said you probably have a copy
of it at your apartment."

Reagan gave up fighting him. She knew House and alsoknew that he wasn't
going to give up. "In my bottom dresser drawer. Can you pick up my mail
too and take it in? You'll find a key taped under the third step going up.
I don't want you breaking the lock."

"The attorney says their case is weak and she doesn't think it will fly
but you may sit in here for awhile." "That's good. That it's weak I mean."

"I'm sending her back tomorrow and you're going to let her represent you
or you can forget your job when you come back."

She chuckled, "Okay." She still had a hard time looking him in the eye.

"Why are you avoiding looking at me?"

"All this time I wasn't sure if you knew about the felony; you never
mentioned it. I put it down on the application, but Ken said you didn't
know. I should have suspected. If you had read it you would have taunted
me and teased me about it. I feel like a fraud. Like you've seen me as one
person and now that's a lie."

"Do you think I give a flying F3ck about your time in prison? Other than
it is kind of hot and I keep jerking off to visions of you in handcuffs.
It just explains a lot about you. Now I know why you can't get another
job, why you ... you know. And just so you know, that's going to stop too.
That could add time onto your sentence and so it stops today."

"Don't tell me what to do."

He smiled, the Reagan he knew was starting to poke her head out. "It's not
an option."

"Then you can keep your attorney. I won't be owing to anyone. I won't let
you control me just because I let you hire me an attorney."

He put his hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. "You are incorrigible.
Okay, don't take the attorney, but you're still going to stop street
walking."

"I'm not having this conversation, especially with you. You're a
John...you support what I do. Until you stop being a John, then you can't
tell me to stop turning tricks."

"We'll talk about this when we spring you from jail."

At the arraignment on Monday afternoon she had been remanded without bail
because she was considered a flight risk; she had no contacts with the
community except for her job. House went to her studio on Tuesdaym found
the key, retrieved her mail and went inside. There was a mailgram from a
bank in California notifying her that her aunt had died on Saturday and
they were taking over her estate as trustees. Her aunt was being cremated
and the memorial was being held Wednesday. House knew that this news was
going to crush her. 

He went to see her on Wednesday, "I have bad news for you, I'm sorry." He
handed her the mailgram. 

She started crying, sobbing. She put her head down on the table and cried
some more. House went around the table and put his arm around her. A guard
came over. "Back to the other side."

House handed him the mailgram and the guard said, "Okay, two minutes and
then you're out of here." 

House grabbed a chair and pulled it next to her, picked her up and held
her head to his chest. She clung on to him like a raft in a storm. He
kissed the top of her head. House squeezed her hard and realized their
time was just about up. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped
her tears.

She looked at him and started laughing, "Who still carries Hankies?"

"Obviously, sophisticated, intelligent men do. They're going to kick me
out soon. Is there anything you want me to do?"

"No, but thanks. Thanks for everything Greg. You've been a good friend."

He laughed at her, a good friend. He pulled her chin up and kissed her
deeply. She kissed back. "You're my favorite jailbird but you smell like a
urinal."

"Thanks." She said sarcastically.

"All right, that's enough, break it up you two. Time to go." the guard
nodded towards the exit.

He kissed her quickly on the mouth and then got up to go. She was sitting
in her orange outfit with red puffy eyes and red nose and he still thought
she looked sweet.

He went back to her apartment and listened to her voice mail. Two guys,
Calvin and Peter kept asking where she was and why she hadn't shown up. He
called them both back using their caller I.D.s. 

"I'm sorry to inform you but your favorite hooker has retired. She's hung
up her corset and garter belt. Time for you to deal with your wife. Thank
you." 

House told everyone, including Cuddy that Reagan's aunt died and she had
to fly out to handle her estate. Cuddy was fine with it as long as House
was. House told Wilson the truth.

"She's a hooker and a felon? How well do you know this woman?"

"Well enough that I hired her an attorney."

"OH-ho! You spent your own money on an attorney for a woman? The Goth
Tart?"

"Your point being?"

"Just that you rarely part with your money. You don't usually go out of
your way to take care of people. Okay, the exception was Stacey. But this
is so strange. I feel like savoring the moment.

"Can we focus on the problem? Her preliminary hearing isn't for another
three weeks. She can't stay in there that long, she'll smell of urine on a
permanent basis."

"Well, you're the detective. If the cops are so convinced she did it, I
doubt they did a thorough investigation. Maybe you could snoop around?"

House thought about it and agreed. He forced Wilson to go to the theater
with him. He took down the names of the people that remembered them being
at the theater that night. Thank God Reagan had looked so hot and he
walked with a cane. One pimple faced popcorn pusher told House, "Yeah, we
couldn't figure out why such a sweet babe as her was with you. Sorry man,
but that's why we remember you...because she was so hot and well, you're
not."

House went down the street and looked around the alley to see if there
were any apartments or any advantage points for a human to have seen what
had happened. He almost hugged Wilson when he saw it. He elbowed him and
pointed up. On a warehouse garage door in the alleyway was a camera. House
was just praying it was working. He went around to the front and found it
belonged to Max Out, an electronics store.

House asked the oldest person in the store which appeared to be a guy
about twenty- five years old, about the camera, "Dude, there was a crime
here last Saturday night and we need to see your surveillance tape from
that day. Did you keep it?"

"It circulates and tapes over itself every week. So, if this is Friday, we
probably still have Saturday's tape."

House was cautious. It would probably show nothing. As they played it back
they fast forwarded until they reached the evening. At 8:00 pm it was just
getting dark and they could see a figure, the druggie, come down the
alleyway and wait in a doorway. You could tell that he heard someone
coming because he came out of hiding. He starts to brandish the knife.
Unfortunately, both House and Reagan were off camera. And then they saw
it. Like a shiny beacon, the light was bouncing off the metal of House's
cane. You could see House's hand, his cane and sneakers. House and Wilson
smiled at each other. The kid lunged and the rest happened off camera.

Within half an hour, House and Wilson were in the lobby of the police
station making quite a fuss. House had called Ken and Reagan's attorney,
both of who were on their way to the police station.

House was talking to the cop at the front, "Get Detective Jansen and tell
him that if he doesn't get the D.A. to release Reagan Grogan, she's going
to sue them for false arrest. We have objective proof that she's
innocent."

Within an hour, Reagan's attorney and the Probation officer were speaking
privately to the Assistant District Attorney about releasing Reagan. When
they emerged from the meeting they were smiling.

House jumped up and limped over to them as fast as possible. "Well? Is she
getting out?"

"They called and had her released within five minutes of us showing the
tape. She's being processed right now. You can go over and pick her up in
about half an hour. We spent most of our time talking about a settlement."

"Settlement?"

"They wanted to see if they could head off a lawsuit by Reagan for false
arrest. If she does sue they'll drag her through the mud, she'd have to
take that into consideration."

House shook his head, "Right now I just want to get her home and give her
a shower."

They all looked at him. Ken said, "I thought you were her boss?"

"I mean she stinks...I didn't mean me give her the shower." But of course
he did mean that.

As they pulled up to the municipal jail for women they saw a petite blonde
sitting on the steps in her white clam diggers and black tank top, white
high heels. She stood up and went over to the car, leaned in and said,
"Hey sailors, new in town?"

"I told you those days are over." House gave her a big grin and she got in
back.

"God, it feels so good to be out. What happened? Did they let me out on
bail?"

"Didn't they tell you?"

"No, I just got called up and was told I was getting out." "The charges
have been dropped. We found a camera that caught the guy on film. The D.A.
is worried that you're going to file suit for false arrest. Seems their
case was flimsy and they knew it...especially since they didn't even
bother to properly investigate it."

"I don't want a lawsuit."

"Get an attorney and sue them." House said.

"Nah, they'll force you to testify and the whole prison thing will come
out. I just want to go home, get cleaned up and go to bed."

"I have a bathtub and you don't. You need to soak that smell off." House
turned and looked at her. "You look like you've had one of those lesbian
encounters. Please tell us all about it."

"Sorry, no lesbian encounters. I did spend time with a bipolar woman. That
was a roller coaster ride I don't want to go on again."

"No thanks." House frowned.

"Seriously folks, where am I taking you?" Wilson asked.

"My place." House and Reagan said simultaneously. 

"I need to get cleaned up. I need clothes to change into. I need sleep."

House looked defeated, "Okay, her place."

Wilson pulled up to Reagan's apartment and they both got out. 

"What are you doing?" Reagan asked House.

"I'm coming inside."

"Why?"

"I just rescued your butt, you owe me."

"And what do I owe you?"

"Your eternal gratitude and maybe you'll let me watch you take a bath?"

She ducked down to say goodbye to Wilson, "It's okay, he can stay. Thanks
Jim, thanks a lot."

"Take care Reagan. Glad you're home." Wilson said.

"Thanks." Reagan turned to House, "Come on, let's get inside."	
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the
ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of
Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House
(and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property
of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I
am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive
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nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the
show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.