Fic : An Opening Door 11/?
Title: An Opening Door 11/?
Words: Approx 3500
Rating : PG-13
Characters : House & Wilson, Cuddy
Contains : Slavery concepts
Summary : Slave AU. Wilson encounters a disabled cleaning slave at PPTH called Greg and becomes intrigued with him. An unlikely friendship forms between the two as Wilson tries to secure a better life for Greg.
Link to story on AO3 .
Previous Chapter
Over the next few days Greg worked out a routine for himself. He'd get up at the same time as Doctor Wilson, get dressed quickly and be ready for anything the doctor wanted him to do - which wasn't much, basically it consisted of making coffee and a simple breakfast for them both. Doctor Wilson gave him some painkillers with breakfast, and then left a dose for Greg to take in the middle of the day.
After the doctor had left for work Greg stacked the dishwasher and scrubbed the kitchen clean. Then he gave the whole apartment a clean and tidy until it was spotless. After that he went and had a shower in his bathroom. He hadn't gotten over the wonderful experience of having his own bathroom and being able to shower in private. The warm water was soothing, both to his leg and to his whole body. Between the cane, the consistent doses of painkillers, and his much reduced work schedule he was feeling better than he had in years. He was able to sleep a lot better now, and the good food was helping as well. He had been owned by Doctor Wilson for less than a week, but the change in his living standard was remarkable. If it wasn't for the collar that still sat around his neck he would be almost happy.
After his shower he dressed in a button down shirt and jeans and made his way out to the kitchen for lunch.
Lunch was another novelty to him. At Rent-A-Slave the slaves had been allowed a ten minute break from work, a bottle of water and a ration bar for a midday meal. If they were behind on their work they didn't even receive that.
At first he'd been wary about helping himself to Doctor Wilson's food - fearing that he would take too much, or the wrong thing and be punished. As a slave he'd had all his food given to him - with no choice whatsoever - for many years. Like all the slaves he'd kept his eyes open for any food he could steal that wouldn't be missed - usually scraps of food discarded by free people - but openly helping himself was a different matter. The first day he had taken only small amounts from already opened packets, gradually he had become bolder.
Today he poured himself a glass of water (cold and fresh) and made himself a sandwich. He ate at the kitchen counter, careful not to spill anything on his clothes. He had selected a magazine to read while eating lunch, from Wilson's seeming never ending supply of them.
In his free time when Wilson was at work he'd been reading the medical texts. They were slow going, as he kept coming upon new words and technology that was unfamiliar to him. Also reading them sometimes stirred up the adverse reaction he had to trying to remember anything of his old life. Whatever he had been it must have had something to do with medicine. Sometimes the assault from his own mind and body was enough to make him put down the textbook and take something easier off the shelf, but he always returned to them.
He was careful not to let Doctor Wilson know he was studying the medical books. However tolerant he had been so far Greg suspected that a slave trying to read books that belonged to doctors would be a step too far for him. While he was at home Greg stuck to his magazines and to novels. While Wilson did paperwork or worked on his computer in the evening Greg read and kept an eye on whatever was on television.
Television was at once both fascinating, and frustrating. The people on the screen had little relationship to himself and his life and he found himself growing quickly annoyed with them, and their concerns. But they did showcase the modern world - one that he had been shut out of for so long - and he absorbed all the changes that had happened since he was enslaved. He'd seen glimpses of cell phones, and computers when free people used them but the television programs gave him time to observe their usage more closely. He found out that the GPS technology that powered his collar, had other uses besides the control and punishment of errant slaves.
Once lunch was finished and cleared away, he took a seat on the couch in the living area and read for an hour or so. When the phone rang he answered it, and reassured Doctor Wilson that he was alive, and still in the apartment. The phone calls had come every day. Doctor Wilson didn't seem to trust the collar to do its job of restricting Greg to the apartment - he liked to check in and make sure Greg was still there. Greg always made sure to answer the phone promptly.
After reading and doing another tidy up of the apartment Greg went to the kitchen and started dinner. His first dinner had been a variant of the pasta dish that Wilson had cooked and it had been... not good. It was still better than anything Greg had eaten in his years as a slave but it had obviously not been up to Wilson's standards. When he saw that Wilson could barely eat it Greg had lost his own appetite and waited for Wilson to get angry at him. Instead Wilson had just pushed his plate aside and then helped Greg clean up. While they were doing that he'd told Greg about the first meal he'd cooked himself - which had culminated in him setting his mother's kitchen on fire. Then he'd made a couple of suggestions about where Greg might have gone wrong. Together they'd cooked some eggs and had them instead. The next night Greg had made something edible, and the night after that he'd made something that had made Wilson smile in pleasure.
When his preparation for dinner was finished Greg wandered over to the window in the living room. It overlooked the street and from there he could watch the free people coming and going. Although he was very grateful to Doctor Wilson for buying him, and how he had treated him since, Greg was beginning to feel a little confined within the four walls of this apartment. He hadn't been outside since Saturday. Every company that had owned him had made sure the slaves got some time outside several times a week, even if it was usually just walking around a dirty courtyard. He wouldn't trade where he was now for any of those places, but he liked to stand here and watch and imagine what it must be like to be able to walk around freely where and when you wanted to.
Wilson ate the last mouthful of his dinner happily. Encouraging Greg to cook had been a good idea. After the first disastrous meal Greg had improved rapidly and tonights dinner had been excellent. He knew Greg had been worried about making mistakes at first, and what Wilson's reaction to them would be, but he seemed to be enjoying the task now. Wilson had to admit it was nice to come home to a spotless apartment and know that dinner would soon be served.
He was enjoying Greg's company now as well. Each day Greg was becoming more and more comfortable with him although he still had a tendency to hang on Wilson's every word and watch him all the time for Wilson's reaction to anything he did.
He'd made it clear to Greg that he didn't expect, or want him, to spend every minute of the day cleaning the apartment. Reading was okay, watching television was okay, just sitting around doing nothing was okay. He noticed that the apartment was still immaculate every time he returned to it but there were signs that Greg was also doing other things. He'd apparently read through the entire folder of instructions for one thing. Greg had asked him where two of the appliances were and Wilson had had to confess they'd long since been discarded but he hadn't thrown the instructions out. Greg had actually looked a little disapproving at that news, much to Wilson's secret amusement.
"That was great, Greg. I can't believe you've only been cooking for four days - you've picked it up so quickly. Do you enjoy doing it?"
Greg looked surprised - like he always looked when Wilson asked him something personal. Then he nodded.
"Yes, sir." He paused again and added, almost shyly. "It's better than cleaning the hospital bathrooms."
WIlson let out a surprised laugh. "I bet it is. Speaking of the hospital - I'm taking you in with me tomorrow. I've made you an appointment at the physical therapy department. Somebody is going to look over the scans of your leg, do an examination and give you some exercises to do."
Greg immediately tensed. "My leg is fine, sir. I can work."
"Yeah, I know you can work, but I want to see if you can be made more comfortable, and whether they can help you with mobility. Remember I said that one of the reasons I... that you came to live here was to help with that?"
"Your have helped, sir. It's much better than it was." Greg gestured to the cane by his side.
"I just want a professional to look at it." It hadn't been easy persuading the chief therapist to fit Greg in. Wilson had chosen a Saturday so there would be less people around, and so that he could take Greg straight home after his appointment but McLoughlin had taken some persuading to allow a slave to receive treatment there. Wilson had had to call in favours and he was still getting the most junior therapist for Greg. The insurance he had for Greg didn't cover physical therapy so he'd been getting a hefty bill from the hospital as well, even with staff discount.
"It will be good to get out of here for a while anyway, won't it? You must be getting a bit tired of being cooped up in here." Wilson said. It had occurred to him that he needed to work in some time outside for Greg. He could hardly expect him to stay cooped up in an apartment 24/7. The hospital wasn't exactly Disneyland but at least it would be a change of scenery.
"Yes, sir." Greg still sounded unconvinced.
"Did you have any therapy at all - when you had the infarction?" Wilson wondered how he had been treated back then - and whether that was behind his reluctance to get it looked at now. From what he'd seen, and found out, slaves didn't fare well in the medical system.
"They had to give me some. I couldn't walk after the operation. The therapist showed me how to walk and gave me some exercises to do if my leg was stiff. They gave me some pain medication to take when I was still in the hospital." Greg looked down at his leg, rubbing slowly at the thigh, as he often did. "One of the therapists told me I should 'visualize the healing'." He looked back up with a small smile.
"Well, I think we can do better than that for you." Wilson stood up and began clearing the dinner things away, Greg quickly got to his feet and helped. They made short work of the clean up and then Wilson reluctantly sat at the table and pulled out his laptop and the folder of budget reports he'd brought home with him. "I've got to get this done, Cuddy is breathing down my neck for the figures, I need to email them to her tonight. If you want to watch television or whatever don't let me stop you. I'll be at this all night."
Greg hovered for a moment, looking a little disappointed - and Wilson had a thought. "Would you like to help me? I have some figures that need inputting on the spreadsheet. If you could do that it would make it quicker. Have you used a spreadsheet before?"
Greg looked hesitant, like he usually did when Wilson asked him about things he might have done when he was free. Though, come to think of it, Greg was enslaved nearly twenty years ago. Any computers or spreadsheets he might have used then would bear little resemblance to the current incarnations, even if he could remember using them.
"I'm not sure," Greg said hesitantly.
"Okay, well, it's not hard. Take a seat and I'll show you."
Greg readily took a seat next to him and Wilson showed him the basics, and which figures he wanted inputting. Then he went back to reading through some reports. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Greg. At first he was slow, hunting around the keyboard for what he wanted and frowning at the screen. Gradually he began to pick up confidence until he was engrossed in what he was doing. As usual it was difficult to tell whether it was something he wanted to be doing but it wasn't Wilson's first choice of a Friday night entertainment activity either. If Greg could help him with things like this it would be handy, and also give Greg some more skills for later.
Pleased with the outcome Wilson concentrated on his own work and the evening passed rapidly.
Greg dressed in what he thought of as his 'best' clothes the next morning for the trip to the hospital. He could pull the shirt collar up around his slave collar and partially hide it. He had realised how uncomfortable Doctor Wilson was about being seen with a slave when they went out shopping and hoped that this would help somewhat.
He wasn't looking forward to the trip. He didn't like it when people focused on his leg and previous 'assessments' of the injury had not been pleasant. It seemed pointless - there was nothing anyone could do at this point. Greg had examined the scar himself, and felt the lack of muscle beneath the skin. Short of growing that muscle back what could be done?
It was not his place to object to the excursion though. It was something Doctor Wilson wanted done to Greg so it would happen.
The car trip, like previously, was the best part. Greg really enjoyed being in the car, being driven through the city. Nobody could see he was a slave like this and there were no expectations of him. Nothing could go wrong, he just had to sit and enjoy the trip. He had vague memories of driving himself, from the time when he was free. Maybe one day, if he was ever freed, he could do it again. He didn't like to think about the possibility too much. He knew he still had several years of his sentence left and wasn't sure what the process was then - Doctor Wilson currently owned him. If he was still in possession of Greg when that time came would he have a choice about giving him up? That was something they never taught them in slave training, and although some of the slaves talked about it sometimes none of them had a clear idea of the procedure. A few had claimed to know what the law was on the subject once, before they were enslaved - but Greg knew that laws could be changed.
Even if he were freed, what would he do? He had no money, and would have nowhere to go. Any relatives he might have had once would be long scattered, and probably wouldn't want anything to do with a criminal who had been turned into a slave.
No, it was better if he didn't think about the future, or the past.
They pulled up at the front of the hospital. When he'd been here previously the truck had pulled up around the back and all he'd seen was the loading dock before they'd been hustled inside to work. He stuck close to Wilson as they made their way in the front door. There was a security guard standing just inside the door and he greeted Doctor Wilson and then narrowed his eyes at Greg.
"This your slave, doc?"
"Yes. He has an appointment." Doctor Wilson sounded a little annoyed and Greg looked down at the ground. Guards didn't like it if you looked them in the eye.
"Just have to pat him down - standard procedure with slaves. You'll need to stick close to him too. Can't have slaves roaming around the hospital by themselves." The guard turned to Greg. "Stand over there, slave, and put your hands on your head."
"His name is Greg." Wilson said tersely. "Go ahead, Greg. Let's get this over with."
Greg moved away and did as directed. At least he wasn't being told to strip for the search. The guard briskly ran his hands over his body and felt in the pockets of his clothing.
"Okay, that's fine, Doctor Wilson. We'll have to do him when he leaves too. If you need to put him somewhere while you're working we have a cell in the basement we can use for that."
"That won't be necessary. Come on, Greg. We don't want to be late for your appointment."
They moved off and once they were in the elevator Wilson apologised to him.
"Sorry, Greg. I didn't know they were going to do that."
"It doesn't matter, sir."
"It matters to me." Wilson sounded angry.
Greg didn't know what to say to that. The pat down was such a little thing, compared to what it could have been. Wilson looked at him and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I'm not mad at you, Greg. Just the whole thing. It isn't right that you're treated like that." The elevator stopped and Wilson ushered him off. "PT is just down the corridor."
They were quickly ushered into a private room when they entered the therapy department. The nurse on the reception desk had raised an eyebrow as she looked from Greg to Doctor Wilson but had refrained from saying anything. After they had been there a few minutes a woman came in, wearing scrubs and pushing her hair behind her ears. She was considerably shorter than either Greg or Wilson, and a little on the plump side.
"Doctor Wilson? I'm Jessica Reilly." They shook hands and her gaze went to Greg. "This is my patient? Greg? He's your slave?"
"Yes. We need an assessment of an old condition." Wilson handed over some scans and notes and launched into some technical detail about Greg's infarction. The lady looked them over, nodding her head as she listened to Wilson. Then she looked up at Greg.
"Slip your pants down, Greg and sit down on the bench. Let's have a look."
He reluctantly lowered his jeans and sat down where she indicated. The ugly scar on his leg was exposed to their view. Doctor Reilly briskly examined it - feeling around the edges and getting him to move his leg this way and that. More than once the leg screamed in pain and by the time she was finished he was sweating. She eyed him.
"Do you have a lot of pain, Greg?"
"Yes, ma'am." He said honestly and hurried on. "But it's a lot better since Doctor Wilson gave me the cane." He lifted the cane that was still in his hand. His hand was shaking slightly and he tried to still it.
She glanced at the cane.
"You weren't using one before?"
"No, ma'am."
"What about pain relief? What is he taking?" She asked Doctor Wilson and he detailed what he was giving Greg.
"He can't have narcotics without being admitted to a hospital," Wilson added.
She nodded. "It's hard enough for long term pain patients to get what they need, let alone a slave. But if he's managed this long without them I wouldn't start him on them anyway without a further acute injury. What he's taking sounds good - but monitor his pain levels. Now, about this cane. Pull your pants back up, Greg and let's see you walk around with the cane."
He walked the length of the room, conscious of both pairs of eyes on him, he tried to keep his movements as fluid as possible. He didn't want to lose the cane now.
"Give me the cane and walk without it for a bit." She held out her hand for the cane and Greg reluctantly surrendered it. He hadn't been without it since Wilson had given it to him. The lurching steps he took reminded him of what an improvement it had been. He'd only gone a few steps when she came up beside him and pressed the cane back into his hand.
"Okay, Greg, that's enough. Just take a seat again."
She picked up a blue file folder and made some notes on it. "Bring him in for appointments once a week, same time as today. We'll work on some strengthening and flexibility exercises. It will hurt but it will help in the long run. In the meantime, get some heating pads for him. Find a way to have some breakthrough pain medication on hand if needed. It might stop him bashing his hand against a wall to get relief."
Greg stared at her, worried. How had she known that he had sometimes resorted to that as a quick means of relief? She smiled and picked up his left hand.
"You do the left hand so that you can still work. The damage is fairly evident, if you know what to look for. Tell Doctor Wilson if the pain gets that bad again, he'll help you."
She smiled quickly at both of them and then swept out of the room.
After they had made their way back out of the hospital Wilson veered away from the parking lot where the car was and towards a large park. He led them to a wooden picnic table and sat down. Greg sat down next to him wondering what they were doing. The park was fairly quiet with only a few people running around the track that led around the outside.
"Sometimes I like to come here and think - or just get out of the hospital for a few minutes," Wilson explained. "I thought you might like to spend some time out here and enjoy the fresh air."
Greg took a deep breath and sat back, feeling the gentle spring breeze on his skin. The sun was high in the cloudless sky, and it was a beautiful day.
"Thank you, sir. I would like that."
Words: Approx 3500
Rating : PG-13
Characters : House & Wilson, Cuddy
Contains : Slavery concepts
Summary : Slave AU. Wilson encounters a disabled cleaning slave at PPTH called Greg and becomes intrigued with him. An unlikely friendship forms between the two as Wilson tries to secure a better life for Greg.
Link to story on AO3 .
Previous Chapter
Over the next few days Greg worked out a routine for himself. He'd get up at the same time as Doctor Wilson, get dressed quickly and be ready for anything the doctor wanted him to do - which wasn't much, basically it consisted of making coffee and a simple breakfast for them both. Doctor Wilson gave him some painkillers with breakfast, and then left a dose for Greg to take in the middle of the day.
After the doctor had left for work Greg stacked the dishwasher and scrubbed the kitchen clean. Then he gave the whole apartment a clean and tidy until it was spotless. After that he went and had a shower in his bathroom. He hadn't gotten over the wonderful experience of having his own bathroom and being able to shower in private. The warm water was soothing, both to his leg and to his whole body. Between the cane, the consistent doses of painkillers, and his much reduced work schedule he was feeling better than he had in years. He was able to sleep a lot better now, and the good food was helping as well. He had been owned by Doctor Wilson for less than a week, but the change in his living standard was remarkable. If it wasn't for the collar that still sat around his neck he would be almost happy.
After his shower he dressed in a button down shirt and jeans and made his way out to the kitchen for lunch.
Lunch was another novelty to him. At Rent-A-Slave the slaves had been allowed a ten minute break from work, a bottle of water and a ration bar for a midday meal. If they were behind on their work they didn't even receive that.
At first he'd been wary about helping himself to Doctor Wilson's food - fearing that he would take too much, or the wrong thing and be punished. As a slave he'd had all his food given to him - with no choice whatsoever - for many years. Like all the slaves he'd kept his eyes open for any food he could steal that wouldn't be missed - usually scraps of food discarded by free people - but openly helping himself was a different matter. The first day he had taken only small amounts from already opened packets, gradually he had become bolder.
Today he poured himself a glass of water (cold and fresh) and made himself a sandwich. He ate at the kitchen counter, careful not to spill anything on his clothes. He had selected a magazine to read while eating lunch, from Wilson's seeming never ending supply of them.
In his free time when Wilson was at work he'd been reading the medical texts. They were slow going, as he kept coming upon new words and technology that was unfamiliar to him. Also reading them sometimes stirred up the adverse reaction he had to trying to remember anything of his old life. Whatever he had been it must have had something to do with medicine. Sometimes the assault from his own mind and body was enough to make him put down the textbook and take something easier off the shelf, but he always returned to them.
He was careful not to let Doctor Wilson know he was studying the medical books. However tolerant he had been so far Greg suspected that a slave trying to read books that belonged to doctors would be a step too far for him. While he was at home Greg stuck to his magazines and to novels. While Wilson did paperwork or worked on his computer in the evening Greg read and kept an eye on whatever was on television.
Television was at once both fascinating, and frustrating. The people on the screen had little relationship to himself and his life and he found himself growing quickly annoyed with them, and their concerns. But they did showcase the modern world - one that he had been shut out of for so long - and he absorbed all the changes that had happened since he was enslaved. He'd seen glimpses of cell phones, and computers when free people used them but the television programs gave him time to observe their usage more closely. He found out that the GPS technology that powered his collar, had other uses besides the control and punishment of errant slaves.
Once lunch was finished and cleared away, he took a seat on the couch in the living area and read for an hour or so. When the phone rang he answered it, and reassured Doctor Wilson that he was alive, and still in the apartment. The phone calls had come every day. Doctor Wilson didn't seem to trust the collar to do its job of restricting Greg to the apartment - he liked to check in and make sure Greg was still there. Greg always made sure to answer the phone promptly.
After reading and doing another tidy up of the apartment Greg went to the kitchen and started dinner. His first dinner had been a variant of the pasta dish that Wilson had cooked and it had been... not good. It was still better than anything Greg had eaten in his years as a slave but it had obviously not been up to Wilson's standards. When he saw that Wilson could barely eat it Greg had lost his own appetite and waited for Wilson to get angry at him. Instead Wilson had just pushed his plate aside and then helped Greg clean up. While they were doing that he'd told Greg about the first meal he'd cooked himself - which had culminated in him setting his mother's kitchen on fire. Then he'd made a couple of suggestions about where Greg might have gone wrong. Together they'd cooked some eggs and had them instead. The next night Greg had made something edible, and the night after that he'd made something that had made Wilson smile in pleasure.
When his preparation for dinner was finished Greg wandered over to the window in the living room. It overlooked the street and from there he could watch the free people coming and going. Although he was very grateful to Doctor Wilson for buying him, and how he had treated him since, Greg was beginning to feel a little confined within the four walls of this apartment. He hadn't been outside since Saturday. Every company that had owned him had made sure the slaves got some time outside several times a week, even if it was usually just walking around a dirty courtyard. He wouldn't trade where he was now for any of those places, but he liked to stand here and watch and imagine what it must be like to be able to walk around freely where and when you wanted to.
Wilson ate the last mouthful of his dinner happily. Encouraging Greg to cook had been a good idea. After the first disastrous meal Greg had improved rapidly and tonights dinner had been excellent. He knew Greg had been worried about making mistakes at first, and what Wilson's reaction to them would be, but he seemed to be enjoying the task now. Wilson had to admit it was nice to come home to a spotless apartment and know that dinner would soon be served.
He was enjoying Greg's company now as well. Each day Greg was becoming more and more comfortable with him although he still had a tendency to hang on Wilson's every word and watch him all the time for Wilson's reaction to anything he did.
He'd made it clear to Greg that he didn't expect, or want him, to spend every minute of the day cleaning the apartment. Reading was okay, watching television was okay, just sitting around doing nothing was okay. He noticed that the apartment was still immaculate every time he returned to it but there were signs that Greg was also doing other things. He'd apparently read through the entire folder of instructions for one thing. Greg had asked him where two of the appliances were and Wilson had had to confess they'd long since been discarded but he hadn't thrown the instructions out. Greg had actually looked a little disapproving at that news, much to Wilson's secret amusement.
"That was great, Greg. I can't believe you've only been cooking for four days - you've picked it up so quickly. Do you enjoy doing it?"
Greg looked surprised - like he always looked when Wilson asked him something personal. Then he nodded.
"Yes, sir." He paused again and added, almost shyly. "It's better than cleaning the hospital bathrooms."
WIlson let out a surprised laugh. "I bet it is. Speaking of the hospital - I'm taking you in with me tomorrow. I've made you an appointment at the physical therapy department. Somebody is going to look over the scans of your leg, do an examination and give you some exercises to do."
Greg immediately tensed. "My leg is fine, sir. I can work."
"Yeah, I know you can work, but I want to see if you can be made more comfortable, and whether they can help you with mobility. Remember I said that one of the reasons I... that you came to live here was to help with that?"
"Your have helped, sir. It's much better than it was." Greg gestured to the cane by his side.
"I just want a professional to look at it." It hadn't been easy persuading the chief therapist to fit Greg in. Wilson had chosen a Saturday so there would be less people around, and so that he could take Greg straight home after his appointment but McLoughlin had taken some persuading to allow a slave to receive treatment there. Wilson had had to call in favours and he was still getting the most junior therapist for Greg. The insurance he had for Greg didn't cover physical therapy so he'd been getting a hefty bill from the hospital as well, even with staff discount.
"It will be good to get out of here for a while anyway, won't it? You must be getting a bit tired of being cooped up in here." Wilson said. It had occurred to him that he needed to work in some time outside for Greg. He could hardly expect him to stay cooped up in an apartment 24/7. The hospital wasn't exactly Disneyland but at least it would be a change of scenery.
"Yes, sir." Greg still sounded unconvinced.
"Did you have any therapy at all - when you had the infarction?" Wilson wondered how he had been treated back then - and whether that was behind his reluctance to get it looked at now. From what he'd seen, and found out, slaves didn't fare well in the medical system.
"They had to give me some. I couldn't walk after the operation. The therapist showed me how to walk and gave me some exercises to do if my leg was stiff. They gave me some pain medication to take when I was still in the hospital." Greg looked down at his leg, rubbing slowly at the thigh, as he often did. "One of the therapists told me I should 'visualize the healing'." He looked back up with a small smile.
"Well, I think we can do better than that for you." Wilson stood up and began clearing the dinner things away, Greg quickly got to his feet and helped. They made short work of the clean up and then Wilson reluctantly sat at the table and pulled out his laptop and the folder of budget reports he'd brought home with him. "I've got to get this done, Cuddy is breathing down my neck for the figures, I need to email them to her tonight. If you want to watch television or whatever don't let me stop you. I'll be at this all night."
Greg hovered for a moment, looking a little disappointed - and Wilson had a thought. "Would you like to help me? I have some figures that need inputting on the spreadsheet. If you could do that it would make it quicker. Have you used a spreadsheet before?"
Greg looked hesitant, like he usually did when Wilson asked him about things he might have done when he was free. Though, come to think of it, Greg was enslaved nearly twenty years ago. Any computers or spreadsheets he might have used then would bear little resemblance to the current incarnations, even if he could remember using them.
"I'm not sure," Greg said hesitantly.
"Okay, well, it's not hard. Take a seat and I'll show you."
Greg readily took a seat next to him and Wilson showed him the basics, and which figures he wanted inputting. Then he went back to reading through some reports. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Greg. At first he was slow, hunting around the keyboard for what he wanted and frowning at the screen. Gradually he began to pick up confidence until he was engrossed in what he was doing. As usual it was difficult to tell whether it was something he wanted to be doing but it wasn't Wilson's first choice of a Friday night entertainment activity either. If Greg could help him with things like this it would be handy, and also give Greg some more skills for later.
Pleased with the outcome Wilson concentrated on his own work and the evening passed rapidly.
Greg dressed in what he thought of as his 'best' clothes the next morning for the trip to the hospital. He could pull the shirt collar up around his slave collar and partially hide it. He had realised how uncomfortable Doctor Wilson was about being seen with a slave when they went out shopping and hoped that this would help somewhat.
He wasn't looking forward to the trip. He didn't like it when people focused on his leg and previous 'assessments' of the injury had not been pleasant. It seemed pointless - there was nothing anyone could do at this point. Greg had examined the scar himself, and felt the lack of muscle beneath the skin. Short of growing that muscle back what could be done?
It was not his place to object to the excursion though. It was something Doctor Wilson wanted done to Greg so it would happen.
The car trip, like previously, was the best part. Greg really enjoyed being in the car, being driven through the city. Nobody could see he was a slave like this and there were no expectations of him. Nothing could go wrong, he just had to sit and enjoy the trip. He had vague memories of driving himself, from the time when he was free. Maybe one day, if he was ever freed, he could do it again. He didn't like to think about the possibility too much. He knew he still had several years of his sentence left and wasn't sure what the process was then - Doctor Wilson currently owned him. If he was still in possession of Greg when that time came would he have a choice about giving him up? That was something they never taught them in slave training, and although some of the slaves talked about it sometimes none of them had a clear idea of the procedure. A few had claimed to know what the law was on the subject once, before they were enslaved - but Greg knew that laws could be changed.
Even if he were freed, what would he do? He had no money, and would have nowhere to go. Any relatives he might have had once would be long scattered, and probably wouldn't want anything to do with a criminal who had been turned into a slave.
No, it was better if he didn't think about the future, or the past.
They pulled up at the front of the hospital. When he'd been here previously the truck had pulled up around the back and all he'd seen was the loading dock before they'd been hustled inside to work. He stuck close to Wilson as they made their way in the front door. There was a security guard standing just inside the door and he greeted Doctor Wilson and then narrowed his eyes at Greg.
"This your slave, doc?"
"Yes. He has an appointment." Doctor Wilson sounded a little annoyed and Greg looked down at the ground. Guards didn't like it if you looked them in the eye.
"Just have to pat him down - standard procedure with slaves. You'll need to stick close to him too. Can't have slaves roaming around the hospital by themselves." The guard turned to Greg. "Stand over there, slave, and put your hands on your head."
"His name is Greg." Wilson said tersely. "Go ahead, Greg. Let's get this over with."
Greg moved away and did as directed. At least he wasn't being told to strip for the search. The guard briskly ran his hands over his body and felt in the pockets of his clothing.
"Okay, that's fine, Doctor Wilson. We'll have to do him when he leaves too. If you need to put him somewhere while you're working we have a cell in the basement we can use for that."
"That won't be necessary. Come on, Greg. We don't want to be late for your appointment."
They moved off and once they were in the elevator Wilson apologised to him.
"Sorry, Greg. I didn't know they were going to do that."
"It doesn't matter, sir."
"It matters to me." Wilson sounded angry.
Greg didn't know what to say to that. The pat down was such a little thing, compared to what it could have been. Wilson looked at him and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I'm not mad at you, Greg. Just the whole thing. It isn't right that you're treated like that." The elevator stopped and Wilson ushered him off. "PT is just down the corridor."
They were quickly ushered into a private room when they entered the therapy department. The nurse on the reception desk had raised an eyebrow as she looked from Greg to Doctor Wilson but had refrained from saying anything. After they had been there a few minutes a woman came in, wearing scrubs and pushing her hair behind her ears. She was considerably shorter than either Greg or Wilson, and a little on the plump side.
"Doctor Wilson? I'm Jessica Reilly." They shook hands and her gaze went to Greg. "This is my patient? Greg? He's your slave?"
"Yes. We need an assessment of an old condition." Wilson handed over some scans and notes and launched into some technical detail about Greg's infarction. The lady looked them over, nodding her head as she listened to Wilson. Then she looked up at Greg.
"Slip your pants down, Greg and sit down on the bench. Let's have a look."
He reluctantly lowered his jeans and sat down where she indicated. The ugly scar on his leg was exposed to their view. Doctor Reilly briskly examined it - feeling around the edges and getting him to move his leg this way and that. More than once the leg screamed in pain and by the time she was finished he was sweating. She eyed him.
"Do you have a lot of pain, Greg?"
"Yes, ma'am." He said honestly and hurried on. "But it's a lot better since Doctor Wilson gave me the cane." He lifted the cane that was still in his hand. His hand was shaking slightly and he tried to still it.
She glanced at the cane.
"You weren't using one before?"
"No, ma'am."
"What about pain relief? What is he taking?" She asked Doctor Wilson and he detailed what he was giving Greg.
"He can't have narcotics without being admitted to a hospital," Wilson added.
She nodded. "It's hard enough for long term pain patients to get what they need, let alone a slave. But if he's managed this long without them I wouldn't start him on them anyway without a further acute injury. What he's taking sounds good - but monitor his pain levels. Now, about this cane. Pull your pants back up, Greg and let's see you walk around with the cane."
He walked the length of the room, conscious of both pairs of eyes on him, he tried to keep his movements as fluid as possible. He didn't want to lose the cane now.
"Give me the cane and walk without it for a bit." She held out her hand for the cane and Greg reluctantly surrendered it. He hadn't been without it since Wilson had given it to him. The lurching steps he took reminded him of what an improvement it had been. He'd only gone a few steps when she came up beside him and pressed the cane back into his hand.
"Okay, Greg, that's enough. Just take a seat again."
She picked up a blue file folder and made some notes on it. "Bring him in for appointments once a week, same time as today. We'll work on some strengthening and flexibility exercises. It will hurt but it will help in the long run. In the meantime, get some heating pads for him. Find a way to have some breakthrough pain medication on hand if needed. It might stop him bashing his hand against a wall to get relief."
Greg stared at her, worried. How had she known that he had sometimes resorted to that as a quick means of relief? She smiled and picked up his left hand.
"You do the left hand so that you can still work. The damage is fairly evident, if you know what to look for. Tell Doctor Wilson if the pain gets that bad again, he'll help you."
She smiled quickly at both of them and then swept out of the room.
After they had made their way back out of the hospital Wilson veered away from the parking lot where the car was and towards a large park. He led them to a wooden picnic table and sat down. Greg sat down next to him wondering what they were doing. The park was fairly quiet with only a few people running around the track that led around the outside.
"Sometimes I like to come here and think - or just get out of the hospital for a few minutes," Wilson explained. "I thought you might like to spend some time out here and enjoy the fresh air."
Greg took a deep breath and sat back, feeling the gentle spring breeze on his skin. The sun was high in the cloudless sky, and it was a beautiful day.
"Thank you, sir. I would like that."