Author's Note: We've reached the end of our story. I thank everyone who came along for the ride and I hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing it. I heartily recommend checking out the O/C Babes Forum at Delphi. There's a different Friday Night Challenge each month and it's always fun to see in which directions people take them. This was my first time trying my hand at one and I really enjoyed doing it.

By the time they finished dinner and returned to the compartment, the sun had set. There wasn't a lot to see out the windows anyway; they'd left the city behind and moved into western Indiana. House didn't protest when Ginger pulled the blinds closed. He did arch a brow in surprise when she sat beside him instead of taking a seat on the opposite bench.

"Sooo," she said, drawing out the word, "now what?"

"Thought that was my line," he muttered, uncomfortable with her close proximity and her scrutiny.

"Turnabout's fair play," she retorted, smiling up at him. He flushed and looked away, suddenly wishing he'd lingered over dinner. In the dining car, surrounded by other passengers, things had been easy between them. Now that they were alone, he wasn't sure how to act around her. Memories from that morning kept popping into his head – her long legs swinging from the upper bunk, her t-shirt slipping from her shoulder, the way she'd smiled at him. He wasn't sure he could trust his voice so he just shrugged, glancing over at her. She was still smiling but he could see in her eyes that she was having some kind of debate with herself. He waited, watching, and after a moment she came to a decision.

"We could just… go to bed," she suggested. When he didn't respond, her face flushed and she started to turn away.

"Wa… wait," he said, reaching out to catch her hand. His heart was pounding and his mouth felt dry. She looked at him, arching her brows in a question.

"You've undressed me in your mind a half-dozen times already," she told him, her voice growing more confident as she spoke. "And I must admit I'd like a closer look at your… architecture." He snorted and she covered one of his hands with hers. "I'm perfectly serious."

"You're perfectly… something," he muttered, frowning at her. "Trust me – you'll be happier sticking with your fantasy. Reality almost always disappoints."

"I can't touch my fantasy," she said softly, sliding closer to him. She reached up with her free hand to touch his face, gently turning his head toward hers. She studied him for a moment before moving forward to kiss him. The kiss started off gentle, a soft touching of her lips to his, and then her hand moved to the back of his head, pulling him in for more. He threaded his hand into her hair and when her lips parted, he took full advantage.

They finally broke off, panting to catch their breath, but didn't move apart. He rested his forehead against hers, leaving his hand tangled in her soft tresses. Her hand slipped from the back of his neck to rest lightly on his shoulder.

"I think," she said softly, "we should get the bed assembled."

"O…k," he managed, feeling his nerves start up again. He got carefully to his feet, moving out of the way as she started to fold out the bunk. "I… I'll be right back," he muttered, retreating into the bathroom. He shut the door and leaned against it, warring with himself. He doubted her fantasy had included his mangled leg; how would she react when she saw the scar? Would he see revulsion or pity in her face? He started when she knocked softly on the door.

"Bed's ready whenever you are," she said. He heard her move away, and then the faint creak of the mattress as she got into the bed. He looked over at his face in the mirror, shaking his head a little. Sexy? Really?

When he emerged a few minutes later, he'd stripped down to his boxers. He hadn't been ready to pull those off and fully expose his scar. She could see enough this way to decide if she wanted to go through with this.

The compartment lights were off, save one over the bunk. Ginger was against the back of the bench, lying on her side beneath the covers. Her bare shoulders were visible and as he approached she propped her head up on one hand to smile at him.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," he answered. He stopped at the edge of the bunk and she reached out to pull back the covers, baring herself in the process. He took a moment to stare, admiring her full breasts and the small thatch of curls between her thighs before slipping off his boxers and sliding into the bed beside her. She reached for him, drawing him in for a kiss and he returned it, slipping his arms around her.

He came awake slowly the next morning, first aware of a small hand on his chest, then of Ginger's body pressed along his side, her head pillowed on his shoulder. Flashes of memory came to him – the way her skin had felt beneath his hands, the taste of her, the look on her face as she moved over him. He opened his eyes to find her smiling at him.

"Morning," she murmured, shifting on the bed. She propped herself up on one arm and reached out to trace a finger along his jaw, her lips slowly curving into a wide smile. "Wow."

"Just wow?" he asked and she chuckled.

"The reality is much better than the fantasy," she replied, leaning over to kiss him. They'd just broken apart when his stomach growled, sounding loud in the quiet compartment. Hers answered and they both laughed.

"Breakfast?" she asked and he nodded. She slipped out of the bed and he followed.

By the time they'd finished showering and dressing it was late morning. They made their way to the dining car, debating about whether they'd be eating brunch or breakfast. House insisted that "brunch" was a made-up meal while Ginger maintained that it wasn't.

The dining car was half-empty and they easily found a booth. When they reached for the menus their hands brushed. House felt his face grow warm and when he looked at Ginger, her face was flushed. They stared at each other for a moment.

"What do you want to eat, Uncle?" Ginger asked. House flushed and drew back. He focused on the menu, studying it intently while they waited to place their orders. After the waitress left, he sat back in the booth and turned his gaze to the window.

"Hey," Ginger said quietly. He turned to see that she was leaning forward, her arms on the table. "I'm sorry about that."

"It's fine," he replied, dropping his gaze to the table-top.

"I just don't want our time together to end with you getting arrested as a pedophile," she said quietly. "Ok?" He looked over to see her smiling nervously at him.

"Ok," he said, nodding. Her smile broadened and he returned it, feeling his tension easing. His appetite had returned by the time their food arrived. Ginger laughed to see a wedge of cantaloupe on her plate.

"It is brunch after all," she said triumphantly.

"Right," House snorted.

"Brunch always comes with a slice of melon at the end," she said, grinning at him. Her grin turned to out-rage when he reached over to snatch up the melon. "What are you doing?"

"Getting rid of brunch," he said, taking a big bite. Ginger rolled her eyes, laughing at him. He set the melon rind aside and she reached over to wipe some juice off his chin. The waitress passed by, giving them a puzzled look, and he took the napkin from Ginger's hand with regret. Her face flushed a little and she turned her attention to her plate. House did the same. They demolished their meals in relative silence, all too aware of the watchful eyes of the dining car staff.

It was a relief to return to the compartment, away from prying eyes. He settled on the bench and stretched his legs out to rest on the opposite seat. When Ginger sat down beside him he slipped an arm around her. She was too short to use the other seat for a foot-rest so she tucked her legs up beside her on the seat and rested her head against his shoulder. House let his head droop, resting against the seat-back, and closed his eyes with a sigh. At some point last night a tightness in his chest had eased. It wasn't until it now, when it was gone, that he realized it had been there for some time. He briefly tried to trace its origins – did it date back to the board meeting, to that first night with Cuddy, or did it go back even further? He wasn't sure; he only knew that for the first time in a long time, he felt content.

"You're not falling asleep on me, are you?" Ginger asked, chuckling softly.

"No," he said, tightening his arm a little. "Just… thinking."

"Happy thoughts I hope," she said. He could hear the smile in her voice and his lips curved up too.

"Yeah," he murmured, dropping a light kiss on the top of her head.

"Good," she said. "You have the most amazing smile. You shouldn't hide it." He snorted and she shifted on the seat, lifting her head. He opened his eyes to find her staring at him. "Don't do that," she said softly.

"Don't do what?"

"Run yourself down like that." He stared at her, shaking his head.

"What does it matter to you?"

She laughed. "I happen to like you," she said.

"You barely know me."

"I knew enough to know that I wanted you last night."

"That was… infatuation," he said, remembering their conversation at the historical society.

She shook her head, shifting so she was sitting sideways on the bench and facing him. "I've been infatuated before. This is… different," she said. Her voice grew more certain as she continued. "I'm not saying I'm in love with you, but we're more than just two strangers who shared a night together."

"What are we then?" he asked.

"We're… fond of each other." She reached out to take his hand in hers. "That's good enough for me."

"I… I could stay a while," he offered hesitantly. She shook her head, her smile turning wistful.

"I'm not staying," she said. "I realized last night that I need to take my own advice. I have a good job in Philly, one that I do well and enjoy. I'm crazy to let some jerk who put his career ahead of me take that away." House nodded once, looking down at their joined hands. His mind was racing. Philadelphia wasn't that far from Princeton. If he stayed at the hospital, maybe they could see each other sometime. But could he stay there? Could he work with Cuddy again? He thought about what Ginger had said, about having a job that she did well and enjoyed. He wasn't sure he'd ever thought about his work in those terms.

"That's good," he said at last. "Good for you." She leaned in to kiss his cheek and he looked up at her.

"You have to decide what's good for you," she said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I know you'll figure it out." He knew it was ridiculous, but her confidence made him feel better. This wasn't a decision he had to make today; he had several more weeks of leave time. He smiled and put his arm around her again.

By the time they reached the station, he'd come to a decision. There was a lot he still hadn't seen in downtown Indianapolis. It was as good a place as any to hide out for a few more weeks. Maybe he'd even visit the IU Med School and drop off a resume. Just making that decision lifted his spirits and he stepped off the train with a smile on his face.

Ginger led him through the station to an exit where a row of taxis waited. When they reached the doors she turned to look at him, smiling.

"I guess this is it," she told him. "I can suggest a few places to check out while you're here."

"That's ok," he replied. "I'm not staying."

"Good for you," she said, moving forward to give him a hug. He hugged her back.

"It will be," he murmured.

"Will you take the train again?" she asked as they drew apart.

"No," he said firmly. "This time I'm taking a plane." He hefted his suitcase and started out the door for the taxis, the sound of Ginger's laughter following him.