An Opening Door 12/?
Title: An Opening Door 12/?
Words: Approx 2400
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
Greg looked around at the stacks of brown boxes and the pieces of furniture scattered throughout the storage unit. Wilson had brought him here, on a Sunday afternoon, telling him he 'had a surprise for him'. Greg had been a little apprehensive but so far Wilson's 'surprises' had been nothing but good. The man in the office at the front of the complex had been reluctant to allow Greg back into where the units were but Wilson had insisted and in the end he'd waved them through.
All the things in the unit were Wilson's, in addition to everything he had in the apartment. But these stayed here, where he couldn't see them or use them, and apparently had to pay to store them. Greg owned a cane and some clothes. Except for he didn't own them , not really. Slaves couldn't own things.
He peeked into a half open box and saw stacks of old medical journals. His fingers twitched to explore them. He wished he could ask for them but he still hadn't told Wilson about his medical knowledge.
"Ha! I knew it was in here." Wilson emerged from his exploration of another box and handed his find to Greg with a grin.
Greg looked down at the object in his hands. It was a laptop computer.
"This is yours?"
"Not anymore. Now it's yours." Wilson looked at him with an expectant air. "I bought it for a Christmas gift for my wife, but well... we weren't together at Christmas so I never gave it to her. You can have it and use it while I'm at work."
"To do work for you, sir?" He'd been doing a little data entry and similar things on Wilson's computer, under his direction. Maybe Wilson wanted him to do more of that.
"To do anything you like. Hell, play solitaire all day long if you want to. But if you get sick of that I was thinking there are some online courses you can do. You must get a bit bored being stuck in the apartment all day."
After the first visit to the hospital and the park, Wilson had taken to going out with Greg for a walk around the neighbourhood most evenings. He said he needed the physical exercise after working all day but Greg suspected that he was doing it so that Greg would get some exercise and some fresh air. He didn't know why Doctor Wilson tried to cover up the reason but he appreciated the opportunity to get out of the apartment.
It wasn't all pleasant. Several times Greg had been mocked by someone who had spotted his collar. He was aware that Wilson had been the target of some disapproving looks as well. He wasn't sure why free people would dislike Wilson taking a slave for a walk. But then the ways of free people were often a mystery to him.
The visits back to the hospital for therapy hadn't been easy. The exercises ramped up his pain level to the point where it had been before Wilson had bought him - an unpleasant reminder of the past. He couldn't see or feel any improvement in his leg from the exercises but the therapist had said it would take time. After each visit Wilson had given him a different type of pill which dulled the pain and made him tired. Greg knew that it was a narcotic but he wasn't sure which one. He didn't know how Wilson had obtained it but he was grateful for the effort.
These were only minor concerns though. The improvement in his life was so great that he barely registered the few drawbacks. The apartment was at a standard now that he didn't need to spend much time cleaning at all, and he enjoyed preparing food for their dinner. After reading through Wilson's cookbook he'd turned to the television and found some cooking shows to watch. Wilson had picked up a wide variety of different foodstuffs and Greg had become more and more adventurous in his cooking. Just eating such tasty foods after so many years of eating bland, poorly cooked, food, was an experience in itself.
The idea of being bored living such a life was beyond him but the computer would open up even more vistas. Wilson had said that he could 'go online'. Greg had seen enough modern television, and read enough magazines, by now to know what that meant.
He held the computer against his chest, afraid of dropping his precious burden on the hard floor. Wilson dug a case out of the box and handed it to him. Greg carefully put the computer into the case.
Wilson was continuing to hunt through boxes. "I've got some cooking stuff in here somewhere. We might need that at the rate you're going. That's an idea for an online course you could do too. Good cooks are always in demand." He started putting his finds into another box, presumably one they would take with them.
"Wilson?"
Wilson looked up. "Yes?"
"Why do you have so many things here? Why haven't you taken them to the apartment if you own them?"
Wilson looked around the unit and sighed. "A lot of this stuff has been with me through three marriages, I guess when I moved into the apartment I didn't want to bring it along. But I didn't want to just throw it out either."
" Three marriages?" Greg hadn't known that.
Wilson looked a little embarrassed. "Yeah, that's what my mom says."
Wilson was a few years younger than Greg. If he'd already had three marriages they must have been either short or in fairly quick succession. He wondered how long it would be before Wilson would be looking for another wife, and what would happen to him then.
"Oh, hey, look at this! My old guitar." Wilson was taking a guitar out of carrying case. It was an acoustic one, a basic model. Wilson strummed it. "My brothers and I used to play a bit. We were going to form a band." He smiled a little sadly. "Except Danny... well, it didn't work out anyway."
Greg stared at the guitar, his hands reaching for it without conscious thought. "Sir, could I..."
Wilson handed it over readily. "Do you know how to play?"
Greg nestled the guitar into his body, his fingers stroking the strings. The guitar was badly out of tune and would never have produced a great tone, even in its best days, but the sound echoed around the storage unit and brought a smile to his face. He knew this. This felt right. The guitar felt like an old friend. He did some riffs and ran through some chords, fingers moving surely and quickly.
"You do play! Better than I ever did anyway." Wilson grinned. "We'll take it with us, and get it tuned." He held out his hands and Greg reluctantly surrendered the guitar. Wilson zipped it up into the soft carry case and put it next to the box.
An hour or so later, burdened with several boxes of Wilson's belongings they went back to the car. Greg sat in the front seat but kept glancing around to the back where both the guitar and the computer sat.
Wilson sighed as he shut the door behind his latest patient. It never got any easier to tell people they were dying, and probably within a few months. His patient had actually thanked him for telling her the news. Wilson wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse.
"Something the matter, Wilson?" He looked up as he heard Cuddy's voice, and saw her standing in front of his desk. He hadn't heard her come in.
"No." He shook his head. "Did you want something?"
Cuddy took a seat in front of his desk. "You know there are rumours all around the hospital about you and this slave? You've been bringing him here?"
He felt his temper flare up. What was so damned interesting about him having a slave? You'd think some of these people had never seen a slave before.
"He's coming in once a week for physical therapy. Which I'm paying for. So that maybe, one day, he can walk without searing pain in his leg. Security search him every damned time we go in and out, I stay with him during therapy, and he's never more than a few feet from me. Nobody can possibly object to that."
Cuddy shrugged. "Some people believe that we shouldn't be treating any slaves here at all."
" 'Some people' are assholes."
"Not arguing with you there. Truthfully I came down here just to get away for a few minutes. I've had department heads in and out of my office all day today, complaining about the budget. I don't know how they think I'm going to pull funds out of my ass for them." She glared at him when he opened his mouth. "You weren't going to say anything about its enormous size, were you, Wilson?"
He shook his head solemnly. "The thought never entered my mind. Do you want another set of eyes on it - the budget, not your ass - before the Board meeting tomorrow? See if there is any tweaking we can do?"
"That would be great. I've been staring at it so long my eyes are going square. But I'm tied up for the rest of the day."
"No problem, it's been a while since we've had dinner together. Come and eat at my place tonight and we can work on it afterwards." He'd been wanting to find a way of introducing Greg to a few other people anyway - his entire life shouldn't consist of Wilson and Wilson only. "But Cuddy, Greg will be eating with us - it's his home too. If that's a problem..."
She gave him a hard stare. "What, do you think I'd expect him to eat out of a bowl on the floor? Give me some credit, Wilson. If I can make nice at a dinner party with that creep Sanders I can manage to have dinner with a slave." She glanced at her watch and stood up. "Besides, I'm intrigued by this 'Greg'. He must be pretty special for you to have done all this for him."
"He is."
Greg put down the lid of his laptop a little reluctantly. True to his word Wilson had introduced him to the internet and Greg had dived in head first. The wealth of knowledge available was amazing. Any question he had, anything he wanted to know, it was all available on the internet, at his fingertips. And there were so many things he wanted to know. Except for vague hints here and there he'd virtually missed twenty years worth of history. He had a lot to catch up on.
Wilson had rung him earlier in the afternoon, saying he was bringing Doctor Cuddy home to have dinner with them before they did some work. He'd asked Greg if he minded making enough food for three. Greg had, of course, said that he didn't mind.
He felt apprehensive about the visit. Normal people didn't treat slaves like Doctor Wilson treated them. He knew that Doctor Cuddy was Doctor's Wilson superior at the hospital - in fact, she was in charge of the entire hospital. She had no doubt employed the service of Rent-A-Slave which had led to Greg being at the hospital. He wondered if she knew that Doctor Wilson had purchased him and he would be there tonight.
He was in the middle of preparing dinner when Wilson came home.
"Hey. Cuddy will be along in about half an hour. How's dinner going?"
"Good, sir." He stirred the pot he had simmering. Wilson grabbed a beer out of the fridge for himself and offered one to him. Greg shook his head. He knew it was unusual for slaves to drink alcohol, and although Wilson allowed it, he didn't want Doctor Cuddy to smell it on him and cause trouble. He didn't know if that were possible but he wasn't willing to chance it.
"Sir, I can go to my room when Doctor Cuddy arrives." He offered, hoping Wilson would say yes.
Wilson frowned at him. "This is your home, Greg. I'm not chasing you out because I have a guest. Besides, I want her to meet you."
"Sir, she may not appreciate meeting me. I'm just a slave, after all."
"Don't put yourself down like that. You're my roommate and, I hope, my friend."
Friend. He tossed the word over in his mind. Greg wasn't sure what to make of it. Wilson owned him. He was friendly and kind towards him, and they had spent some enjoyable time together but nothing would change the fact that Greg was a slave, and Wilson was his owner.
"She knows about you, if that's what you're worried about. And I told her you'd be eating with us. After dinner we'll be working on the budget so it's fine if you want to go and do something else but you're not getting out of dinner. After all, you're cooking it." He grinned. "I nearly bought you flowers on the way home - that's what I used to give my wives when I sprung an extra person on them for dinner."
Greg didn't really know what to make of that so he kept on with his food preparation and the conversation moved on to what Greg had been doing that day. He was in the middle of explaining how he had stumbled upon 'YouTube' when Doctor Cuddy arrived. When he heard her knocking Wilson gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and went to let her in. Greg looked around the kitchen, making sure everything was in order and then looked back up as Wilson brought his guest into the kitchen.
Doctor Cuddy was a short, brunette woman, wearing high heels and clothes that fitted the curves of her body tightly. She was also very attractive. Greg felt his stomach turning into knots as he looked at her. Wilson waved a hand in his direction.
"Doctor Cuddy, this is Greg. Greg, Doctor Cuddy."
Doctor Cuddy glanced at him, a slight smile on her face and then stared harder, her eyes widening and the smile falling away as her mouth opened in shock.
"Oh, my God! Greg? Greg House ?"
Greg felt a sharp pain lance through his head and he fell to his knees, retching.
Words: Approx 2400
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
Greg looked around at the stacks of brown boxes and the pieces of furniture scattered throughout the storage unit. Wilson had brought him here, on a Sunday afternoon, telling him he 'had a surprise for him'. Greg had been a little apprehensive but so far Wilson's 'surprises' had been nothing but good. The man in the office at the front of the complex had been reluctant to allow Greg back into where the units were but Wilson had insisted and in the end he'd waved them through.
All the things in the unit were Wilson's, in addition to everything he had in the apartment. But these stayed here, where he couldn't see them or use them, and apparently had to pay to store them. Greg owned a cane and some clothes. Except for he didn't own them , not really. Slaves couldn't own things.
He peeked into a half open box and saw stacks of old medical journals. His fingers twitched to explore them. He wished he could ask for them but he still hadn't told Wilson about his medical knowledge.
"Ha! I knew it was in here." Wilson emerged from his exploration of another box and handed his find to Greg with a grin.
Greg looked down at the object in his hands. It was a laptop computer.
"This is yours?"
"Not anymore. Now it's yours." Wilson looked at him with an expectant air. "I bought it for a Christmas gift for my wife, but well... we weren't together at Christmas so I never gave it to her. You can have it and use it while I'm at work."
"To do work for you, sir?" He'd been doing a little data entry and similar things on Wilson's computer, under his direction. Maybe Wilson wanted him to do more of that.
"To do anything you like. Hell, play solitaire all day long if you want to. But if you get sick of that I was thinking there are some online courses you can do. You must get a bit bored being stuck in the apartment all day."
After the first visit to the hospital and the park, Wilson had taken to going out with Greg for a walk around the neighbourhood most evenings. He said he needed the physical exercise after working all day but Greg suspected that he was doing it so that Greg would get some exercise and some fresh air. He didn't know why Doctor Wilson tried to cover up the reason but he appreciated the opportunity to get out of the apartment.
It wasn't all pleasant. Several times Greg had been mocked by someone who had spotted his collar. He was aware that Wilson had been the target of some disapproving looks as well. He wasn't sure why free people would dislike Wilson taking a slave for a walk. But then the ways of free people were often a mystery to him.
The visits back to the hospital for therapy hadn't been easy. The exercises ramped up his pain level to the point where it had been before Wilson had bought him - an unpleasant reminder of the past. He couldn't see or feel any improvement in his leg from the exercises but the therapist had said it would take time. After each visit Wilson had given him a different type of pill which dulled the pain and made him tired. Greg knew that it was a narcotic but he wasn't sure which one. He didn't know how Wilson had obtained it but he was grateful for the effort.
These were only minor concerns though. The improvement in his life was so great that he barely registered the few drawbacks. The apartment was at a standard now that he didn't need to spend much time cleaning at all, and he enjoyed preparing food for their dinner. After reading through Wilson's cookbook he'd turned to the television and found some cooking shows to watch. Wilson had picked up a wide variety of different foodstuffs and Greg had become more and more adventurous in his cooking. Just eating such tasty foods after so many years of eating bland, poorly cooked, food, was an experience in itself.
The idea of being bored living such a life was beyond him but the computer would open up even more vistas. Wilson had said that he could 'go online'. Greg had seen enough modern television, and read enough magazines, by now to know what that meant.
He held the computer against his chest, afraid of dropping his precious burden on the hard floor. Wilson dug a case out of the box and handed it to him. Greg carefully put the computer into the case.
Wilson was continuing to hunt through boxes. "I've got some cooking stuff in here somewhere. We might need that at the rate you're going. That's an idea for an online course you could do too. Good cooks are always in demand." He started putting his finds into another box, presumably one they would take with them.
"Wilson?"
Wilson looked up. "Yes?"
"Why do you have so many things here? Why haven't you taken them to the apartment if you own them?"
Wilson looked around the unit and sighed. "A lot of this stuff has been with me through three marriages, I guess when I moved into the apartment I didn't want to bring it along. But I didn't want to just throw it out either."
" Three marriages?" Greg hadn't known that.
Wilson looked a little embarrassed. "Yeah, that's what my mom says."
Wilson was a few years younger than Greg. If he'd already had three marriages they must have been either short or in fairly quick succession. He wondered how long it would be before Wilson would be looking for another wife, and what would happen to him then.
"Oh, hey, look at this! My old guitar." Wilson was taking a guitar out of carrying case. It was an acoustic one, a basic model. Wilson strummed it. "My brothers and I used to play a bit. We were going to form a band." He smiled a little sadly. "Except Danny... well, it didn't work out anyway."
Greg stared at the guitar, his hands reaching for it without conscious thought. "Sir, could I..."
Wilson handed it over readily. "Do you know how to play?"
Greg nestled the guitar into his body, his fingers stroking the strings. The guitar was badly out of tune and would never have produced a great tone, even in its best days, but the sound echoed around the storage unit and brought a smile to his face. He knew this. This felt right. The guitar felt like an old friend. He did some riffs and ran through some chords, fingers moving surely and quickly.
"You do play! Better than I ever did anyway." Wilson grinned. "We'll take it with us, and get it tuned." He held out his hands and Greg reluctantly surrendered the guitar. Wilson zipped it up into the soft carry case and put it next to the box.
An hour or so later, burdened with several boxes of Wilson's belongings they went back to the car. Greg sat in the front seat but kept glancing around to the back where both the guitar and the computer sat.
Wilson sighed as he shut the door behind his latest patient. It never got any easier to tell people they were dying, and probably within a few months. His patient had actually thanked him for telling her the news. Wilson wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse.
"Something the matter, Wilson?" He looked up as he heard Cuddy's voice, and saw her standing in front of his desk. He hadn't heard her come in.
"No." He shook his head. "Did you want something?"
Cuddy took a seat in front of his desk. "You know there are rumours all around the hospital about you and this slave? You've been bringing him here?"
He felt his temper flare up. What was so damned interesting about him having a slave? You'd think some of these people had never seen a slave before.
"He's coming in once a week for physical therapy. Which I'm paying for. So that maybe, one day, he can walk without searing pain in his leg. Security search him every damned time we go in and out, I stay with him during therapy, and he's never more than a few feet from me. Nobody can possibly object to that."
Cuddy shrugged. "Some people believe that we shouldn't be treating any slaves here at all."
" 'Some people' are assholes."
"Not arguing with you there. Truthfully I came down here just to get away for a few minutes. I've had department heads in and out of my office all day today, complaining about the budget. I don't know how they think I'm going to pull funds out of my ass for them." She glared at him when he opened his mouth. "You weren't going to say anything about its enormous size, were you, Wilson?"
He shook his head solemnly. "The thought never entered my mind. Do you want another set of eyes on it - the budget, not your ass - before the Board meeting tomorrow? See if there is any tweaking we can do?"
"That would be great. I've been staring at it so long my eyes are going square. But I'm tied up for the rest of the day."
"No problem, it's been a while since we've had dinner together. Come and eat at my place tonight and we can work on it afterwards." He'd been wanting to find a way of introducing Greg to a few other people anyway - his entire life shouldn't consist of Wilson and Wilson only. "But Cuddy, Greg will be eating with us - it's his home too. If that's a problem..."
She gave him a hard stare. "What, do you think I'd expect him to eat out of a bowl on the floor? Give me some credit, Wilson. If I can make nice at a dinner party with that creep Sanders I can manage to have dinner with a slave." She glanced at her watch and stood up. "Besides, I'm intrigued by this 'Greg'. He must be pretty special for you to have done all this for him."
"He is."
Greg put down the lid of his laptop a little reluctantly. True to his word Wilson had introduced him to the internet and Greg had dived in head first. The wealth of knowledge available was amazing. Any question he had, anything he wanted to know, it was all available on the internet, at his fingertips. And there were so many things he wanted to know. Except for vague hints here and there he'd virtually missed twenty years worth of history. He had a lot to catch up on.
Wilson had rung him earlier in the afternoon, saying he was bringing Doctor Cuddy home to have dinner with them before they did some work. He'd asked Greg if he minded making enough food for three. Greg had, of course, said that he didn't mind.
He felt apprehensive about the visit. Normal people didn't treat slaves like Doctor Wilson treated them. He knew that Doctor Cuddy was Doctor's Wilson superior at the hospital - in fact, she was in charge of the entire hospital. She had no doubt employed the service of Rent-A-Slave which had led to Greg being at the hospital. He wondered if she knew that Doctor Wilson had purchased him and he would be there tonight.
He was in the middle of preparing dinner when Wilson came home.
"Hey. Cuddy will be along in about half an hour. How's dinner going?"
"Good, sir." He stirred the pot he had simmering. Wilson grabbed a beer out of the fridge for himself and offered one to him. Greg shook his head. He knew it was unusual for slaves to drink alcohol, and although Wilson allowed it, he didn't want Doctor Cuddy to smell it on him and cause trouble. He didn't know if that were possible but he wasn't willing to chance it.
"Sir, I can go to my room when Doctor Cuddy arrives." He offered, hoping Wilson would say yes.
Wilson frowned at him. "This is your home, Greg. I'm not chasing you out because I have a guest. Besides, I want her to meet you."
"Sir, she may not appreciate meeting me. I'm just a slave, after all."
"Don't put yourself down like that. You're my roommate and, I hope, my friend."
Friend. He tossed the word over in his mind. Greg wasn't sure what to make of it. Wilson owned him. He was friendly and kind towards him, and they had spent some enjoyable time together but nothing would change the fact that Greg was a slave, and Wilson was his owner.
"She knows about you, if that's what you're worried about. And I told her you'd be eating with us. After dinner we'll be working on the budget so it's fine if you want to go and do something else but you're not getting out of dinner. After all, you're cooking it." He grinned. "I nearly bought you flowers on the way home - that's what I used to give my wives when I sprung an extra person on them for dinner."
Greg didn't really know what to make of that so he kept on with his food preparation and the conversation moved on to what Greg had been doing that day. He was in the middle of explaining how he had stumbled upon 'YouTube' when Doctor Cuddy arrived. When he heard her knocking Wilson gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and went to let her in. Greg looked around the kitchen, making sure everything was in order and then looked back up as Wilson brought his guest into the kitchen.
Doctor Cuddy was a short, brunette woman, wearing high heels and clothes that fitted the curves of her body tightly. She was also very attractive. Greg felt his stomach turning into knots as he looked at her. Wilson waved a hand in his direction.
"Doctor Cuddy, this is Greg. Greg, Doctor Cuddy."
Doctor Cuddy glanced at him, a slight smile on her face and then stared harder, her eyes widening and the smile falling away as her mouth opened in shock.
"Oh, my God! Greg? Greg House ?"
Greg felt a sharp pain lance through his head and he fell to his knees, retching.