Author's Note: After Monday (hereafter called "That tragic day"), we all need a little fluff and smiles in our lives. Many humble, grateful and appreciative thanks to Akemi1582 for betaing this! Let me tell you, she is a Godsend due to the crazy tense transitions I wrote in this one-shot.

A Taste

I've only been away five years, but a lot hasn't changed. Princeton still looks and feels the same. The air is still a little crisp and a little smoggy. Academia is still the predominant scene here. The co-eds still walk along the sidewalks in groups and don't move out of my way as I walk past. The brick work of the colleges remains untouched by the elements. Princeton-Plainsboro looks the same with its outsides immaculate and the sun gleaming through the windows, highlighting the busy people running to and fro inside. Everything was as I remembered it. And then it wasn't.

James unexpectedly rang me and invited me out to dinner when he found out I was in town. I had been in a meeting that morning with several clients who refused to drive up to New York. Old men set in their ways and what not. I thought it wouldn't hurt to visit after so much time had passed. I don't know how James found out I was in town. He's always had a knack for knowing though. When I met him for dinner last night, those small, accommodating brown eyes roamed over my person, as if he had forgotten how I looked when I walked into the bistro. We talked about our different practices, bitched about clients and patients respectively. He told me about his new place and what happened with Sam [again; I bet you had a field day with that]. He never mentioned you until after glass number three. His face flushed and he sputtered an apology as if it were necessary. He looked thoroughly embarrassed as if he had come right out and said something highly inappropriate, such as saying fuck to a nun. I reassured him I wasn't going to weep in agony or in anger over you. I had heard you were in a hospital but didn't inquire further with my contacts. It was your business. Mark was, and still is, fiercely jealous of you. That was one of the reasons I stayed away for so long. You certainly did a number on his pride. I couldn't help but ask questions though. Let's say it was the lawyer in me that craved the knowledge and juicy gossip. You wouldn't have blamed me for that before. Our plates were empty and our glasses full once more when I finally broached the tabooed topic.

"How is Greg?" I spoke with all the innocence I could muster.

One of James's squared eyebrows rose in curiosity. He always was protective of you. I watched him reach for his glass, taking it by the stem since it was white wine, and take a ginger sip of it. He glanced back up at me. I could tell he was sizing me up, mentally going through his thoughts, deciding what to disclose and what to censor.

"He's fine. He's been doing really well for himself in the past year."

"I'm glad to hear that. I've heard through the grapevine he's clean."

"Sober almost two years. I'm proud of him." Said pride entered his voice and the brightness of his eyes.

"After all those years, I have to admit I doubted he could do it. I always imagined I would get a phone call from you or Lisa saying he had OD'ed and killed himself. I dreaded one of you finding him, alone, and dead in his apartment."

I narrowed my eyes as I saw him squirm slightly. It wasn't that odd of a reaction to what I had said, but it was noticeably out of character.

"Something the matter?" I asked him.

"No, nothing. Just the thought of my best friend being dead kind of unnerved me. I mean, I had thought about it most of the time, when he was a drug addict. Dreaded it, also… to revisit it…" He made a guilty half-shrug. I let it go.

"How's Lisa? I heard she finally adopted a little girl. I've always thought she would be a great mother." I smiled.

"She's doing pretty great. You know how she is, a workaholic, stressed out most of the time—."

"Greg's fault," I interjected.

He laughed and smiled, the crows' feet around his eyes more pronounced than ever.

"Very true. But she's mellowed out a bit, probably because of Rachel…" he trailed off, his eyes glancing off to the side.

"I should call Lisa tomorrow. I haven't seen her in ages, either."

"Ah…" James looked decidedly uncomfortable. "I should probably tell you something first."

I waited a moment. "Go on," I encouraged him.

"House is dating Cuddy."

It had taken me a moment to realize what James had said. So, you finally rebuilt that bridge you thought you had burned. I knew there would always be a connection between the two of you, a tension that no one else in the world had. Admitting it to myself now, I was always watchful of her when you would talk of her or if she were around. Her eyes followed you around the room, even when she was taken with some new beau. I knew you respected her. Don't get me wrong, I always trusted you. You're not the type of man to cheat on his girlfriend. As a woman, however, I never trusted her even though we were friends. I've learned over the years women can never fully trust each other and that's been one of the setbacks of our sex. I must have taken too long to respond because James cleared his throat rather noisily.

"I'm happy for them," I said, truly meaning it.

James's left eyebrow rose, mocking me with its incredibility.

"I am," I restated. "I didn't come back to have another affair with House."

I laughed as I saw the confirmation flash through his eyes of his knowledge of our first indiscretion. I knew you couldn't keep your mouth shut.

"I was just checking. He's actually trying with Cuddy, most of the time they're happy together. Hell, they enjoy their fights just as much as their quiet moments."

"Well, if there's one woman who can handle him, it's Lisa," I agreed.

I could picture her trying to micromanage your every move and medical decision and the massive fights that would happen. You were always passionate. I know she has the same passion. But with that same passion, I recall I named you a closet romantic in the strictest sense of the word. I could see you doing anything to keep her happy. Dirty notes left on her computer, a stolen flower left on her car seat [not thinking of how you entered her locked car by the way], making her do things she's never done before. You probably got her to ride that death trap of a bike with you. She's brave enough. The thought of you with her child crossed my mind.

"How is he with the little girl? He's no father figure."

Wilson smirked, his lips quirking up on his left side.

"If you would ask him, Rachel is the devil incarnate. Lisa says he's good with her. Kids have always strangely liked him."

"He's a thirteen year old trapped in a fifty-one year old's body."

"Very true. He's tried to tell me he likes her only because it makes Cuddy happy. You and I both know he's not that compromising and accommodating."

"Any pictures of her? I'm curious how she looks."

James searched through his pockets and brought out his iPhone. He entered his password, one you've probably cracked and changed a hundred times, and moved his finger over the screen. He swiped several pictures to the side before settling on one and passing me the phone. She was sitting on your lap as you sat on James's couch in his office. Her head was tucked against your chest. She had a huge toothy grin on her face. I stared at her a moment longer.

"Has anyone mentioned that she looks like him and Lisa? She could be their daughter," I exclaimed in wonder.

The blue of her eyes matched yours with their brightness. Her hair was a different shade of brown than yours, but one could put that down to Lisa's hair being darker. Who knows, her hair might lighten as she grows older. She looked tall for her age; she had the same willowy look you had when you were younger, before you put on all the muscle for sports. She is a beautiful girl, Lisa's very lucky. Speaking of said woman, she was sitting next to you in that photo, long legs crossed and wearing the highest [and newest] Jimmy Choos I have ever seen. You were always a sucker for leggy brunettes. That woman never changes, I thought jealously. Her hair was styled differently, but it suited her better than the semi-messy curls she had the last time I had seen her. She was looking at her daughter with a fierce maternal glint in her. Motherhood looked good on her.

"I think a radiologist mentioned it once, but he was never seen again," Wilson interrupted my thoughts. He smiled boyishly and took another sip of wine. I laughed at his joke, but knew he was being serious. I can see you being touchy over that subject. Not even in my wildest dreams did I imagine you settling down with another woman, especially one with a kid. I wish I could tell you "everybody lies," since it was obvious you changed.

"Do you have other photos?" I asked airily.

"Yep, be my guest," he waved at me while taking the final pull from his glass.

I flipped through a couple of just you and Cuddy. One was at a wedding where you were looking particularly striking and she was gorgeous and glowing. The next was at Wilson's apartment. The perspective of the photo led me to believe Wilson had taken the photo when you two weren't looking. You're making eyes at each other over a poker game; you with your cards face down on the table and a green bottle in your hand; and her with her cards in hand and a glass of red wine to her left. Most likely you were probably trying to get her to fold, but the shine in your eye was captured as evidence to the contrary by the camera.

"Want to go to lunch with me tomorrow? I expect you're tired from the drive down and you do have that meeting in the morning."

"Sure. That sounds good. I should be out by one. Is that fine?"

"That's okay. Pick me up at the hospital and we'll go from there," he said.

And that's how I came to be waiting in my Mercedes AMG, back in the parking lot of Princeton-Plainsboro, a hospital I thought I would not see again in this life. It was ten to one on my watch. Surprisingly, the old men were efficient this morning and knew what they wanted out of the lawsuit they were going forward with. They signed everything I handed them without comment, already knew the answers to questions I had on the case… boring stuff, really. I find a space near the front in the second row of the parking lot; and I sit there, fidgeting, waiting for James. People bustle into the hospital and saunter out. A familiar voice catches my ear at that point. You singing in the parking lot as you get out of a Lexus SUV that I automatically knew was Cuddy's. That cane's new. You look infinitely better than when I saw you last. The limp doesn't seem to be a bother. Your clothes were ironed and clean. Even your beard was neatly trimmed and hair artfully messy. I knew you cleaned up well when you wanted to. I laugh quietly as Cuddy steps out of the beast and clearly tells you to shut up. A blush was still gracing her cheeks. There's only one reason you wouldn't care about people hearing you sing. The smile spreading on your face makes me smile and I'm happy for you. I watch as you reach for Cuddy's hand and entwine your fingers with hers. She walks in pace with you. It's amazing how suited the two of you are. It's like watching two halves of the same person; beautiful, rare, and mesmerizing. I watch as you walk in together, disappearing through the double doors.

I feel a bit dismayed that you never noticed I was right across from you. She obviously holds all your attention now. I don't feel jealous though. It's more a sadness that we parted on such awkward terms. I am happy to see you smile so easily again.

A tap on my window shakes me out of my reverie, startling me. Wilson stands next to my car. I unlock the door and wait for him to slide in before turning on the car.

"Ready?"

"Whenever you are," he quips.

I pull out of the lot and start to make my way to an Indian restaurant I've always loved. Wilson starts telling me about his latest case and how you interrupted a meeting this morning. I must not have been paying that much attention since he coughed pointedly. I turn, facing him.

"What's got you in such a good mood? Meeting went well?"

"It went very well. I was just musing to myself, sorry."

"About what?"

I give Wilson a thousand watt smile, knowing he'd never get the reference in a million years. The confusion on his face would be priceless and I have a vague hope he asks you about it later. As cheekily as I could, I answered,

"I just saw someone else has developed a taste for vindaloo curry."

AN: Thanks so much for reading! Please let me know what you thought of this quick one-shot. Author will be very appreciative and it'll make her day!