An Opening Door 15/?
Title: An Opening Door 15/?
Words: Approx 3000
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 finished his multiple choice exam well within the time limit and pressed 'submit' to see the results. Eighty percent. Good, not good enough, but getting better. The questions were practice for taking the USMLE exams. He had no plans, or ability, to take the exams themselves but the questions served the purpose of determining where there were gaps in his medical knowledge that he had to fill. He researched every incorrect answer. Sometimes he found that medical knowledge and best practice had advanced since he last took these tests. An answer that would have been correct twenty years ago was now wrong, or incomplete.
The most satisfying thing was that the more he delved into medicine online the easier it became to do so. He rarely had to stop because of headaches or nausea, as long as he kept purely to the medicine and didn't try to remember any personal connection to it. So physically it was becoming easier, and studying like this was awakening parts of his brain that he hadn't even realised had been dormant. He was learning to think again, and to reason, and to question.
He could feel himself moving beyond being 'Greg, the slave' and becoming something else. Not free of course, but a human being with some value. Something to offer besides his physical labour and blind obedience. He was becoming alive again.
It was dangerous of course, thinking like this. There was no certainty in Wilson's patronship. Although Wilson had stated repeatedly that he had no intention of selling Greg, and every intention of eventually freeing him Greg knew very well how quickly things could change. One morning he might wake up here, and by the evening he could be in another place, working for Rent-A-Slave or another company like it again. He had to remember that. He wouldn't stop his pursuit for knowledge, and the truth about himself, because the benefits outweighed any possible cost but he would always keep in the back of his mind the idea that this could all fall apart.
He looked up from the computer and around the apartment. It was clean enough, he could afford another few minutes of computer use. He brought up the Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital website, a site he visited every day.
His first stop was, as always, to search for James Wilson. Wilson's picture appeared in one corner of the screen. His professional biography, which Greg had memorised, in another. With Wilson's steady gaze calming him Greg took a moment to gather his courage, and then he typed in his next search term - 'Lisa Cuddy'.
He tensed when her photo appeared on the screen. It was getting a little easier to look at it but it still made him uneasy. It was hard to tell now whether he recognised her from his past, or from his repeated visits to the website. Her name had meant nothing to him but something had triggered him when she had come for dinner that night.
He braced himself as he moved onto the next step.
"House." His voice was only a whisper as he said the name she'd used. "Greg House."
He experienced the familiar physical reaction of nausea and a stabbing pain in his head but he said it again.
"Greg House. My name is Greg House. Doctor Greg House."
His hand shook as he closed the lid on the laptop cutting off his sight of Lisa Cuddy. Sitting back in the chair he took deep breaths as the pain receded and the nausea abated.
It was frustrating, this slow progress on trying to overcome the mental blocks on his personal history. Viewing Doctor Cuddy's photo, and saying his own name aloud, was his version of trying to desensitize himself - much as he would with an allergy. Wilson was working on supplying him with some of his biography but he would only be able to give him bare facts. Greg wanted to know for himself what he was like when he was free. He wanted to remember .
He sighed and pushed himself away from the table. He needed to tidy up the apartment and then put dinner on before Wilson came home.
He was on his way to the kitchen when there was a loud banging on the apartment door and a woman's voice calling for help. He froze, staring at the door. He hadn't once opened that door without Wilson being present. The few times anyone had knocked during the day he'd stayed quiet and still until they left.
The banging came again, and a thud as something fell in the corridor outside. He limped over to the door and after a moment of hesitation opened it, his heart thumping as he looked outside.
A woman he had occasionally seen as he and Wilson entered and left the building was at the other end of the corridor. She was bending over a young boy who was lying on the ground.
"He's choking!" The woman was hitting the boy frantically between his shoulder blades. "James! Doctor Wilson!" She looked past Greg, her eyes searching for Wilson. "Get James!"
"He's at work," Greg answered. He limped down the corridor quickly and took the child from her. She tried to fight him but he pushed her away, speaking firmly. "You're doing it wrong. Call for an ambulance. I can help him."
If he couldn't dislodge the object the child would need medical intervention, if he didn't die before then. He wrapping his arms around the boy's chest and picked him up until he was leaning against his body. Then placing both hands under his diaphragm he thrust inward. Nothing happened and the boy was limp in his arms. He did it again, and then again, and was finally rewarded with an object shooting out of his mouth. He quickly laid him down on the ground, and with gentle hands on his head opened his airway. He was unconscious and Greg leaned down with his cheek in front of the boy's mouth and watched his chest. He wasn't breathing.
He covered the boy's mouth with his own and breathed into it, still watching his chest. Then he did it again. Several breaths later he was rewarded with the sound of the boy coughing and then beginning to breathe on his own, although slowly.
Only then did he look around. The mother was kneeling next to her son, cell phone still clutched in her hand, her face wet with tears. Greg heard sirens and then a clatter of boots in the corridor. The paramedics had arrived. He quickly briefed them, relating what measures he had taken in short sharp sentences. They stared at him briefly, their eyes flitting to his collar in a way that Greg had seen many times. They didn't say anything though, instead going to the boy and pressing an oxygen mask over his face.
He moved away from them, sitting on the floor with his back against the corridor wall, out of the way and watched as they took over. The boy was breathing now, and had regained consciousness. He would be okay.
Greg realised he was shaking then, the adrenaline having worn off. His leg was throbbing and his head was aching. His cane lay discarded some distance away. Nobody was paying him any attention and he slowly levered himself to his feet, using the wall for support. Dragging his leg he made his way to his cane and picked it up. Wilson's apartment door was still open and he slipped inside, shutting the door behind him.
When Wilson returned to his office after doing rounds there was a man waiting for him. Lucas Douglas, the private investigator he'd hired to uncover Greg's past. Cuddy had recommended him as being both competent and discreet. She'd used him for hospital business before. From the way she talked about him Wilson suspected that she'd used him for more than that but he made no comment - Cuddy was still a little annoyed at him about the 'slave-free hospital' suggestion he'd sprung on her at the Board meeting.
The man himself had turned out to be a little scruffy and gave the appearance of being both disorganised and incompetent, but Wilson suspected that a lot of that was an attempt to make himself seem harmless. His eyes had been sharp as Wilson had explained what he wanted.
Wilson had found out a few things on his own but many of the records dated from pre-internet days and hadn't yet been uploaded. Lucas had the connections to do a more thorough job. They'd agreed on a fee and that was the last he'd heard from him until today.
"I've got the report on your boy, Greg." Lucas said, waving a file. "He's got quite a history."
Wilson waved him into his office and shut the door behind him. Half the hospital didn't need to hear this.
Lucas sat down in his visitors chair and helped himself to some candy that Wilson kept in a jar for his younger patients.
"First of all you've definitely got the right guy. Here's a photo of him from med school." Lucas put the photo down and Wilson could clearly see it was Greg, although much younger and with no pain lines around his face. The man in the photo didn't look happy, but he wasn't in pain. "I mostly concentrated on the events surrounding his criminal record like you asked. He was a bit of a rebel, had trouble with authority. He was expelled out of medical school for cheating, and was constantly in trouble in school and at the three hospitals he worked in after graduating."
Again Wilson felt a disconnect between the man Lucas was describing and the person who was living with him. Greg hadn't even tried to explore the boundaries of his confinement in the weeks he had been with Wilson. He kept his room scrupulously neat and tidy, and treated every suggestion by Wilson as a concrete order.
"Your source was correct about the reason for his initial sentence. He had already been ordered not to approach the patient and he disobeyed that to administer treatment that he thought would cure them. The patient died and your boy was charged with manslaughter.
"He received an eighteen months sentence - to be served in a minimum security facility. After five months he was involved in a fight that left another prisoner in hospital and he was reclassified and transferred to a maximum security prison. Then two months after that he was accused of murdering a fellow prisoner. He was convicted and received a life sentence. Under the Slavery Release Program he could opt to become a slave for a reduced sentence of twenty five years and that's what he did."
"He killed someone?" Wilson couldn't take that in. He had known that Greg must have been convicted of a violent crime but hearing it was another matter. Greg had been a doctor, albeit apparently one with an attitude problem, not a common thug. What had driven him to kill?
"Yes. He admitted killing the man but claimed it was in self-defence. His story was that the man was part of a prison gang which had been threatening him. Greg armed himself with a crude home-made knife and the next time they cornered him he used it. The main witness against him, besides the other prisoners, was a prison guard who caught the tail end of the action and said Greg was the instigator."
"The prison guard was lying," Wilson said with conviction. He could never believe that Greg was a cold blooded murderer. Whatever had happened he'd been driven to it.
Lucas shrugged. "Maybe. The guard was later caught accepting bribes and smuggling drugs into the prison. He ended up doing time himself."
"I could try and get the case reopened. If the guard was corrupt any cases where he was involved should be looked at. Maybe a deal could be done with the guard." Wilson was excited at the thought of getting Greg free earlier.
Lucas shook his head. "That guard was murdered two months into his sentence. He's not giving any testimony and the trail is pretty cold. You could try, but it's not going to be on the top of anyone's priority list. There's no doubt that your boy stabbed that guy and he's not even in prison anymore. Nobody much cares about slaves. I'm sure you've found that out. He's got six years to serve - I doubt you could get the case looked at quicker than that."
Wilson decided he would at least look into the procedure but he had to admit that Lucas was probably right.
"Why did he agree to become a slave?" Even facing life in prison, slavery surely couldn't have been seen as an attractive option.
"If there was a gang, and there probably was, Greg would have faced reprisals. If he was having problems before the murder his life wouldn't have been any easier afterwards. Between facing life in prison under those circumstances or being a slave, he chose slavery. The prison administration can be pretty persuasive too - they get paid a nice bonus for every prisoner who opts into the program. Prison population is down, running costs are way down and the companies that run the prisons get a lump sum when the prisoner is sold for the first time. It's a sweet system."
"For everyone but the slave." Wilson caught Lucas's eye. "Yeah, I know, nobody cares about them."
"Well, there's always a few radicals protesting the system, but nobody much cares about that either."
"People might care if they knew exactly what happens to the slaves. They conditioned Greg so he can't remember any of his past - if he tries he experiences excruciating pain. He's lost himself. Nobody deserves that."
Lucas shrugged again - clearly he shared the general public's lack of concern. Wilson supposed he couldn't blame him - a few months ago Wilson wouldn't have cared either.
He was about to ask what else Lucas had uncovered when an unfamiliar alarm went off on his phone. He pulled it out his pocket and checked the screen. Greg's collar was sending an alarm - he'd gone beyond his perimeter - the door of Wilson's apartment.
"I've got to go," he said to Lucas. "Emergency. Send me a bill." He grabbed the file and ran out, hurrying to his car as the alarm continued to sound.
When he got to his apartment he was alarmed to see an ambulance outside and as he got out of his car the paramedics came out, with a patient on a gurney. Wilson raced over; expecting it to be Greg but it was a child he vaguely recognised.
"Doctor Wilson!" His neighbour, Nora, ran up to him. "Please thank him for me. He saved Henry's life. He was choking and... your slave... he saved him. I didn't get a chance to say anything to him... he was gone..."
"Gone?" Wilson asked sharply, looking around. There was no sign of Greg. He checked his phone; the alarm had stopped on the trip here.
"I think he went back to your apartment. I guess he shouldn't have been out." The paramedics were loading the gurney into the ambulance and she went over to them and got in the back with her son.
Wilson didn't wait for the elevator, quickly racing up the stairs. He opened the door to his apartment and called Greg's name as he entered.
"Here, sir." The quiet voice answered and Wilson looked around the room and saw him on the couch, his leg stretched out in front of him - hands gently massaging it. HIs cane by his side.
"Are you okay?" Wilson asked, his eyes scanning Greg. His face was drawn, and pale, the pain lines prominent. "The alarm on your collar went off." He could see the indicator light on the collar glowing red - a sign that the alarm had been triggered.
"I didn't feel a shock." Greg put one hand up, not quite touching the collar. He looked puzzled, as if just now registering that fact.
"I set the level to zero, so the alarm goes off but there's no shock," Wilson said. He had done that on the first day he left Greg alone.
Greg looked at him with wide eyes - as if Wilson had surprised him. Greg was used to the collar being used as a corrective device, as well as a handy system of having him come when he was wanted. The idea that someone would go out of their way to ensure that it couldn't be used like that was apparently novel to him.
"What happened? Nora said you saved her child's life."
Greg put his hand down and nodded. "Yes. I think I did."
"You know the Heimlich manoeuvre is out of favour now?" Wilson said as they relaxed over dinner. He'd given Greg some top up pain meds and then Greg had slept for a couple of hours. He was looking much better now, maybe better than he had since he'd come to live with Wilson. "We recommend back blows. You'd better brush up on your first aid as well as advanced surgical techniques."
Greg smiled slightly. "It worked."
Wilson toasted him with his wine glass. "That it did. Nora rang while you were sleeping - Henry is fine, he'll be home this evening. You'll be the talk of the whole building by tomorrow you know."
Greg looked down, obviously uncomfortable at the idea, and Wilson changed the subject.
"I met with a private investigator today - before you interrupted me with the whole 'saving a kid's life' thing."
Greg looked up again. "About me?"
"Yes, he found out some of what happened to you in the prison. If you want to know." Wilson produced the file and laid it down on the coffee table between them. The photograph of the young Greg House was on top. Greg picked it up and stared at it.
"Yes, tell me."
Wilson did.
Words: Approx 3000
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 finished his multiple choice exam well within the time limit and pressed 'submit' to see the results. Eighty percent. Good, not good enough, but getting better. The questions were practice for taking the USMLE exams. He had no plans, or ability, to take the exams themselves but the questions served the purpose of determining where there were gaps in his medical knowledge that he had to fill. He researched every incorrect answer. Sometimes he found that medical knowledge and best practice had advanced since he last took these tests. An answer that would have been correct twenty years ago was now wrong, or incomplete.
The most satisfying thing was that the more he delved into medicine online the easier it became to do so. He rarely had to stop because of headaches or nausea, as long as he kept purely to the medicine and didn't try to remember any personal connection to it. So physically it was becoming easier, and studying like this was awakening parts of his brain that he hadn't even realised had been dormant. He was learning to think again, and to reason, and to question.
He could feel himself moving beyond being 'Greg, the slave' and becoming something else. Not free of course, but a human being with some value. Something to offer besides his physical labour and blind obedience. He was becoming alive again.
It was dangerous of course, thinking like this. There was no certainty in Wilson's patronship. Although Wilson had stated repeatedly that he had no intention of selling Greg, and every intention of eventually freeing him Greg knew very well how quickly things could change. One morning he might wake up here, and by the evening he could be in another place, working for Rent-A-Slave or another company like it again. He had to remember that. He wouldn't stop his pursuit for knowledge, and the truth about himself, because the benefits outweighed any possible cost but he would always keep in the back of his mind the idea that this could all fall apart.
He looked up from the computer and around the apartment. It was clean enough, he could afford another few minutes of computer use. He brought up the Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital website, a site he visited every day.
His first stop was, as always, to search for James Wilson. Wilson's picture appeared in one corner of the screen. His professional biography, which Greg had memorised, in another. With Wilson's steady gaze calming him Greg took a moment to gather his courage, and then he typed in his next search term - 'Lisa Cuddy'.
He tensed when her photo appeared on the screen. It was getting a little easier to look at it but it still made him uneasy. It was hard to tell now whether he recognised her from his past, or from his repeated visits to the website. Her name had meant nothing to him but something had triggered him when she had come for dinner that night.
He braced himself as he moved onto the next step.
"House." His voice was only a whisper as he said the name she'd used. "Greg House."
He experienced the familiar physical reaction of nausea and a stabbing pain in his head but he said it again.
"Greg House. My name is Greg House. Doctor Greg House."
His hand shook as he closed the lid on the laptop cutting off his sight of Lisa Cuddy. Sitting back in the chair he took deep breaths as the pain receded and the nausea abated.
It was frustrating, this slow progress on trying to overcome the mental blocks on his personal history. Viewing Doctor Cuddy's photo, and saying his own name aloud, was his version of trying to desensitize himself - much as he would with an allergy. Wilson was working on supplying him with some of his biography but he would only be able to give him bare facts. Greg wanted to know for himself what he was like when he was free. He wanted to remember .
He sighed and pushed himself away from the table. He needed to tidy up the apartment and then put dinner on before Wilson came home.
He was on his way to the kitchen when there was a loud banging on the apartment door and a woman's voice calling for help. He froze, staring at the door. He hadn't once opened that door without Wilson being present. The few times anyone had knocked during the day he'd stayed quiet and still until they left.
The banging came again, and a thud as something fell in the corridor outside. He limped over to the door and after a moment of hesitation opened it, his heart thumping as he looked outside.
A woman he had occasionally seen as he and Wilson entered and left the building was at the other end of the corridor. She was bending over a young boy who was lying on the ground.
"He's choking!" The woman was hitting the boy frantically between his shoulder blades. "James! Doctor Wilson!" She looked past Greg, her eyes searching for Wilson. "Get James!"
"He's at work," Greg answered. He limped down the corridor quickly and took the child from her. She tried to fight him but he pushed her away, speaking firmly. "You're doing it wrong. Call for an ambulance. I can help him."
If he couldn't dislodge the object the child would need medical intervention, if he didn't die before then. He wrapping his arms around the boy's chest and picked him up until he was leaning against his body. Then placing both hands under his diaphragm he thrust inward. Nothing happened and the boy was limp in his arms. He did it again, and then again, and was finally rewarded with an object shooting out of his mouth. He quickly laid him down on the ground, and with gentle hands on his head opened his airway. He was unconscious and Greg leaned down with his cheek in front of the boy's mouth and watched his chest. He wasn't breathing.
He covered the boy's mouth with his own and breathed into it, still watching his chest. Then he did it again. Several breaths later he was rewarded with the sound of the boy coughing and then beginning to breathe on his own, although slowly.
Only then did he look around. The mother was kneeling next to her son, cell phone still clutched in her hand, her face wet with tears. Greg heard sirens and then a clatter of boots in the corridor. The paramedics had arrived. He quickly briefed them, relating what measures he had taken in short sharp sentences. They stared at him briefly, their eyes flitting to his collar in a way that Greg had seen many times. They didn't say anything though, instead going to the boy and pressing an oxygen mask over his face.
He moved away from them, sitting on the floor with his back against the corridor wall, out of the way and watched as they took over. The boy was breathing now, and had regained consciousness. He would be okay.
Greg realised he was shaking then, the adrenaline having worn off. His leg was throbbing and his head was aching. His cane lay discarded some distance away. Nobody was paying him any attention and he slowly levered himself to his feet, using the wall for support. Dragging his leg he made his way to his cane and picked it up. Wilson's apartment door was still open and he slipped inside, shutting the door behind him.
When Wilson returned to his office after doing rounds there was a man waiting for him. Lucas Douglas, the private investigator he'd hired to uncover Greg's past. Cuddy had recommended him as being both competent and discreet. She'd used him for hospital business before. From the way she talked about him Wilson suspected that she'd used him for more than that but he made no comment - Cuddy was still a little annoyed at him about the 'slave-free hospital' suggestion he'd sprung on her at the Board meeting.
The man himself had turned out to be a little scruffy and gave the appearance of being both disorganised and incompetent, but Wilson suspected that a lot of that was an attempt to make himself seem harmless. His eyes had been sharp as Wilson had explained what he wanted.
Wilson had found out a few things on his own but many of the records dated from pre-internet days and hadn't yet been uploaded. Lucas had the connections to do a more thorough job. They'd agreed on a fee and that was the last he'd heard from him until today.
"I've got the report on your boy, Greg." Lucas said, waving a file. "He's got quite a history."
Wilson waved him into his office and shut the door behind him. Half the hospital didn't need to hear this.
Lucas sat down in his visitors chair and helped himself to some candy that Wilson kept in a jar for his younger patients.
"First of all you've definitely got the right guy. Here's a photo of him from med school." Lucas put the photo down and Wilson could clearly see it was Greg, although much younger and with no pain lines around his face. The man in the photo didn't look happy, but he wasn't in pain. "I mostly concentrated on the events surrounding his criminal record like you asked. He was a bit of a rebel, had trouble with authority. He was expelled out of medical school for cheating, and was constantly in trouble in school and at the three hospitals he worked in after graduating."
Again Wilson felt a disconnect between the man Lucas was describing and the person who was living with him. Greg hadn't even tried to explore the boundaries of his confinement in the weeks he had been with Wilson. He kept his room scrupulously neat and tidy, and treated every suggestion by Wilson as a concrete order.
"Your source was correct about the reason for his initial sentence. He had already been ordered not to approach the patient and he disobeyed that to administer treatment that he thought would cure them. The patient died and your boy was charged with manslaughter.
"He received an eighteen months sentence - to be served in a minimum security facility. After five months he was involved in a fight that left another prisoner in hospital and he was reclassified and transferred to a maximum security prison. Then two months after that he was accused of murdering a fellow prisoner. He was convicted and received a life sentence. Under the Slavery Release Program he could opt to become a slave for a reduced sentence of twenty five years and that's what he did."
"He killed someone?" Wilson couldn't take that in. He had known that Greg must have been convicted of a violent crime but hearing it was another matter. Greg had been a doctor, albeit apparently one with an attitude problem, not a common thug. What had driven him to kill?
"Yes. He admitted killing the man but claimed it was in self-defence. His story was that the man was part of a prison gang which had been threatening him. Greg armed himself with a crude home-made knife and the next time they cornered him he used it. The main witness against him, besides the other prisoners, was a prison guard who caught the tail end of the action and said Greg was the instigator."
"The prison guard was lying," Wilson said with conviction. He could never believe that Greg was a cold blooded murderer. Whatever had happened he'd been driven to it.
Lucas shrugged. "Maybe. The guard was later caught accepting bribes and smuggling drugs into the prison. He ended up doing time himself."
"I could try and get the case reopened. If the guard was corrupt any cases where he was involved should be looked at. Maybe a deal could be done with the guard." Wilson was excited at the thought of getting Greg free earlier.
Lucas shook his head. "That guard was murdered two months into his sentence. He's not giving any testimony and the trail is pretty cold. You could try, but it's not going to be on the top of anyone's priority list. There's no doubt that your boy stabbed that guy and he's not even in prison anymore. Nobody much cares about slaves. I'm sure you've found that out. He's got six years to serve - I doubt you could get the case looked at quicker than that."
Wilson decided he would at least look into the procedure but he had to admit that Lucas was probably right.
"Why did he agree to become a slave?" Even facing life in prison, slavery surely couldn't have been seen as an attractive option.
"If there was a gang, and there probably was, Greg would have faced reprisals. If he was having problems before the murder his life wouldn't have been any easier afterwards. Between facing life in prison under those circumstances or being a slave, he chose slavery. The prison administration can be pretty persuasive too - they get paid a nice bonus for every prisoner who opts into the program. Prison population is down, running costs are way down and the companies that run the prisons get a lump sum when the prisoner is sold for the first time. It's a sweet system."
"For everyone but the slave." Wilson caught Lucas's eye. "Yeah, I know, nobody cares about them."
"Well, there's always a few radicals protesting the system, but nobody much cares about that either."
"People might care if they knew exactly what happens to the slaves. They conditioned Greg so he can't remember any of his past - if he tries he experiences excruciating pain. He's lost himself. Nobody deserves that."
Lucas shrugged again - clearly he shared the general public's lack of concern. Wilson supposed he couldn't blame him - a few months ago Wilson wouldn't have cared either.
He was about to ask what else Lucas had uncovered when an unfamiliar alarm went off on his phone. He pulled it out his pocket and checked the screen. Greg's collar was sending an alarm - he'd gone beyond his perimeter - the door of Wilson's apartment.
"I've got to go," he said to Lucas. "Emergency. Send me a bill." He grabbed the file and ran out, hurrying to his car as the alarm continued to sound.
When he got to his apartment he was alarmed to see an ambulance outside and as he got out of his car the paramedics came out, with a patient on a gurney. Wilson raced over; expecting it to be Greg but it was a child he vaguely recognised.
"Doctor Wilson!" His neighbour, Nora, ran up to him. "Please thank him for me. He saved Henry's life. He was choking and... your slave... he saved him. I didn't get a chance to say anything to him... he was gone..."
"Gone?" Wilson asked sharply, looking around. There was no sign of Greg. He checked his phone; the alarm had stopped on the trip here.
"I think he went back to your apartment. I guess he shouldn't have been out." The paramedics were loading the gurney into the ambulance and she went over to them and got in the back with her son.
Wilson didn't wait for the elevator, quickly racing up the stairs. He opened the door to his apartment and called Greg's name as he entered.
"Here, sir." The quiet voice answered and Wilson looked around the room and saw him on the couch, his leg stretched out in front of him - hands gently massaging it. HIs cane by his side.
"Are you okay?" Wilson asked, his eyes scanning Greg. His face was drawn, and pale, the pain lines prominent. "The alarm on your collar went off." He could see the indicator light on the collar glowing red - a sign that the alarm had been triggered.
"I didn't feel a shock." Greg put one hand up, not quite touching the collar. He looked puzzled, as if just now registering that fact.
"I set the level to zero, so the alarm goes off but there's no shock," Wilson said. He had done that on the first day he left Greg alone.
Greg looked at him with wide eyes - as if Wilson had surprised him. Greg was used to the collar being used as a corrective device, as well as a handy system of having him come when he was wanted. The idea that someone would go out of their way to ensure that it couldn't be used like that was apparently novel to him.
"What happened? Nora said you saved her child's life."
Greg put his hand down and nodded. "Yes. I think I did."
"You know the Heimlich manoeuvre is out of favour now?" Wilson said as they relaxed over dinner. He'd given Greg some top up pain meds and then Greg had slept for a couple of hours. He was looking much better now, maybe better than he had since he'd come to live with Wilson. "We recommend back blows. You'd better brush up on your first aid as well as advanced surgical techniques."
Greg smiled slightly. "It worked."
Wilson toasted him with his wine glass. "That it did. Nora rang while you were sleeping - Henry is fine, he'll be home this evening. You'll be the talk of the whole building by tomorrow you know."
Greg looked down, obviously uncomfortable at the idea, and Wilson changed the subject.
"I met with a private investigator today - before you interrupted me with the whole 'saving a kid's life' thing."
Greg looked up again. "About me?"
"Yes, he found out some of what happened to you in the prison. If you want to know." Wilson produced the file and laid it down on the coffee table between them. The photograph of the young Greg House was on top. Greg picked it up and stared at it.
"Yes, tell me."
Wilson did.