Hello FF kingdom, this is my first fanfic ever, so be kind – I haven't written since the horror of English GCSEs. And well ever since Season 7, I have been mourning Huddy. So I've decided to give a shot to Huddy's first encounter back in '85. This shall be hopefully be multiple chapter FF with some OC's. Thanks to cooleh and my Vanilla Bear. Rated M just to be safe. More drama later so leave a review for suggestions/critique/rants.

Disclaimer: I do not own House, M.D. and OCs are purely fictional.

September 1, 1985

"Ready?" Patrick Cuddy asked his daughter while turning the engine off. Lisa Cuddy smiled at her father and nodded. They both gazed with sky grey eyes at the red-bricked flat sitting between similar buildings. The student accommodation was only a block away off campus. The street was quiet, apart from the whistling sound from the wind in the trees that lined the street. Everything was still asleep.

Lisa slid her coffee-coloured plastic sunglasses on top of her head, holding her dark brown locks from her eyes, and stepped out of her dad's coupe. Her muscles ached after 4 hours in a moving piece of metal. She was dressed in a cropped denim boiler suit and a pair of white converses. She glanced at her wrist watch - it was only 6:26 am. The university wouldn't be open till 7. "We can go to that cafe." Lisa pointed to the cafe at the end of the road. Caffeine is what she needed after a 15 hour car journey from New Jersey to Michigan.

They walked side by side in comfortable silence, too weary to talk and just eager to eat anything apart from limp sandwiches and warm soda. The small cafe sat at the corner of the street, sounds stirring from the inside as the people prepared for the day. Patrick pushed against the door, letting a welcoming sweet aroma of coffee and food wrap around them. He went to the counter and ordered. Lisa took in the scene, she could definitely imagine her spending hours here working or just reading a good book. She moved across the oak floor through the various settees and tables, towards a caramel sofa lit under a dim chandelier. She sat gingerly, making herself cosy. Fatigue was catching up with her; she didn't know how she was going to sort out everything today. She closed her eyes, just for a moment.

"Hey kiddo, eat," Patrick pushed a cup of strong coffee and a warm Panini towards her as he sat. "You look like you're gonna pass out."

"I'll be fine, Dad. I only need to sign in at the campus, get my timetable, move my stuff in. The rest can wait until tomorrow."

"You excited?"

Lisa stared at her father. He was dressed in green shirt, covered by a dark denim jacket and tapered jeans. His short dark hair flopped above his forehead, covering the faint wrinkles, which framed blue-grey eyes. His features were soft, a reflection of his persona. Patrick Cuddy shared nearly everything with his daughter, from the dark, brunette mane and striking eyes to personality. He was her inspiration, the man who doesn't just work but lives as a doctor.

"Of course, med school's gonna be great. I'm gonna miss home but..."

"No you're not," her father retorted. "You're gonna be great, Lis. You were always strong enough to do everything on your own, and more." He gave her a warm lopsided smile.

"Thanks Dad, but I'm still going to need your strong arms to carry my medical books and my furniture." She chuckled. They sat in silence as they filled their empty stomachs.

"Go, get your stuff. I'll start moving stuff in." She regarded her father for a moment. It was true. She did achieve a lot during her young life, excelling academically and being active outside school. But it wasn't without her father. There were moments where words weren't said, but actions spoke louder: the pat on the back, the heart-warming embrace, a smile. He was a quiet man; compared to her mother who voiced everything in her head, he was gentle and patient. And more importantly, he was there.

"Okay. I'll see you in a bit."She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, handing him her keys and walking towards the door, Patrick Cuddy looking at his eldest daughter.

As she approached the main building, flocks of students and parents buzzed around the campus. She went in the double doors and queued to check in. She suddenly forgot her tiredness and couldn't wait to get everything sorted.

A plump lady glanced at her through bottle-thick glasses."Name?" A rather squeaky voice escaped the woman's lips.

"Lisa Cudd..."

"Here's your timetable and all the other information is in that pack there. Next!" The woman droned after what must have been her 400th time today. Lisa took the pack, excited to see what classes she had. Monday was her first official day. She had only had three lectures that day in the afternoon, one introductory assembly, Internal Medicine with a Professor Lamb, Clinical Experience with a Professor Moriarty. She moved across the hallway, already pulsing with people. She was busy looking at her information pack, when suddenly she hit something.

"Oh...err...well. Hello there," A smooth voice said. Lisa looked up to dark, brown eyes that glinted under the light. Caramel hair framed his defined facial features. He was a handsome man. He had broad shoulders and was heavily built from playing football in high school. He was the type that caught people's attention and he knew it. "I'm Weber, Philip Weber," He grinned, attempting a James Bond accent. His eyes scanned the new unfamiliar undergraduate. She's hot, he thought. He held out a hand and Lisa shook it briefly, disinterested in the stranger. "Sorry, what did you say your name was...?"

"I didn't. But I've got to go. So bye." She left briskly, not bothering to look at the surprise etched on Philip's face. His eyebrow curved and he wondered who she was. He shrugged and found a group of giggling girls.

"That's the last of the boxes." She dusted her hands and dropped onto the ivory sofa.

"Catch, kid." Patrick threw her a soda and sat down the sofa. "The desk we bought is finally finished!" He said triumphantly.

She nodded thankfully at him. The apartment wasn't too shabby. The living room led to kitchen to three en-suite bedrooms. The living room also led to a balcony overlooking the small garden. She slipped into her room. Light flooded through the windows on her left. There was a double bed in the middle, her cherry mahogany desk sat opposite it beside the door, and the new empty shelves lined the wall. The room was like an empty canvas, she was definitely looking forward to making it her own. It was going to be home for the next few months. Her room was the farthest from the two bedrooms. At least I don't have to worry about noise, she thought. She wondered who would be her room mates.

As if it on cue, a girl burst into the apartment, while another trudged after her. "...I was like totally psyched when I found out that I got into Michigan. And my dad was...Eeeeeeeek!" The voice shrieked. Lisa ran back into the living room and found a blond girl staring and pointing at her father. "Who are you!" She gawked. Patrick stared, one eyebrow arched. Lis is gonna have a great time...he thought.

"Hi, sorry that's my father," Lisa explained. "I'm Lisa Cuddy, your roommate." She held out a hand, which the blonde girl waved off and looked around the room. She found her room and dragged her suitcase in without so much an acknowledgement to the three people in the living room.

"Sorry, about her. She's Kelly. She can be a bit...Anyways, I'm Emily Mason," She shook Lisa's hand. She was a petite mousey girl, hair tied up in a bun, with glasses that sat on a small button nose."Nice to meet you Mr Cuddy." Emily walked towards her room.

Patrick nodded. He stood and looked at Lisa. God she's grown up so quick.He smiled at his daughter. "I should probably get going, Lis," he looked at his watch. "I still have a long journey ahead."

She knew this was coming but she still felt sad her father had to go. "Okay..." she walked towards her father. She motioned for a hug and he embraced her in a bear hug, as if he was afraid of letting her go. "I'm gonna miss you Dad." Her eyes glazed, not wanting to show a moment of weakness.

"You're going to be fine...no, better than fine. You're going to be great."Patrick said in his soft but professional voice; he didn't want to upset his daughter more. Blue-grey eyes met for a moment as they said their silent goodbyes. Lisa Cuddy didn't know what life had in store for her.

Pain. Gregory House's first thought that morning. His head throbbed from the alcohol still flooding through his system. He should not have drank this much, but he needed to prove that after 10 cups of beer, it was still possible to win lacrosse beer pong. At least the 50 bucks made it worthwhile. He kept his eyes shut for another moment. A body stirred next to him. He opened one eye and found himself in a unfamiliar room. He looked at his watch. It was 12:03pm. He was already late for lunch with his parents. Groaning to himself, he swung out of the bed and tip-toed around the messy room.

. Where the hell's my underwear? He smelt like beer and sex. He needed a shower. Hell, he was already late - what's another half hour going to matter. A lot to John House. He snorted at the thought of his father. He made his way out the room. His apartment was only across the campus. He made his way, his head still pounding and his eyes hazy. He walked to the entrance, but realize he didn't have his keys. Fuck. He stabbed the doorbell, hoping his roommate was still in there. A few minutes later, a disheveled guy opened the door.

"What? Greg?...Wher-" House pushed pass his half-asleep roommate.

"Shut up, Joe. I need to take a shower."

"No good morning kiss?" Joe chirped.

"A bit late for that. It's midday."

House ran up the stairs, taking 3 steps at a time. Joe's shorter legs couldn't catch up with him. He was a dwarf compare to House's tall and lanky frame. It didn't help that he was barely awake. House was already running the shower by the time Joe got up there. Wonder what's got his panties in a bunch. He collapsed onto the large, grey sofa. He wasn't planning to wake up early until university started tomorrow.

House stepped out of the shower and through the steam to the sink. He brushed his teeth in record time. He looked up to blue, piercing eyes that stared back. His eyes glinted mischievously. He had strong cheekbones, rounded off with a sharp jaw. Wet brown curls flopped on top of his head. He regarded himself. His eyes trailed along his broad shoulders. Built arms hung beside his defined chest, tuffed with brown curls. He towered most people, an advantage in the playing field, intimidating anyone that comes his way. Let's get this show on the road, he thought.

At 12:46, House arrived at the small cafe where he was going to meet his parents before school started tomorrow. Blythe House insisted to see her one and only estranged son. House didn't look forward to it. It wasn't that he hated her, he hated him. John House was a Marine. His years serving gave him a cold perspective on life, and maybe on their son. Parents screwed up their children, and John certainly did. Gregory house was an army brat. But he wasn't going to stand by his father's words and action, not anymore. He left as soon as he was of age. Blythe was the only one who cared...Not enough, House thought.

The couple sat at a table in awkward silence. House was late and John House was not happy. Not at all.

"Greg! There you are. I was wondering whether you were still coming." Blythe gave her son a hug, which he awkwardly returned. Blythe was a small, petite woman with soft features. Faint creases began to line her ivory face. Grey hair lined hair blonde hair.

"Sorry, I was-"

John interrupted his son. "Excuses? They aren't good enough. We've been waiting in this goddamn cafe for over half an hour," He spat, anger burning in his eyes. House's blue eyes pierced against John's dark beady eyes. House looked at his father. The man was heavily built, shoulders squared, head held high in his pride. He was a strict man, stubborn in his beliefs and one of them was that his authority was never to be questioned. Especially by his son. Silence pulsed with years of unresolved tension between son and father. Blythe looked down at her coffee. "Failure to come here on time only goes to show your attitude towards everything. Do you pride yourself on failure? Have you no respect for yourself, coming to see us in such a state, with nothing to say. Do you realise what we have given up so you can sit behind some desk, hide behind books, and never be man to deal with the real world? No son of mine-"

"Maybe I am not your son!" House growled. His parents were stunned by the sudden outburst. He was not going to stand by this anymore. Never again was he going to let John House bully him again. "I am never going to follow your footsteps. I am not going to play by your rules. No son of yours? I have no father. We share nothing, but a name." Greg stood, his height emphasising his rebellion. He was 25 for god's sake. He will not be crushed by this man again. He turned away from his father's death glare stabbing his back. He swore he could hear the breaking of his Mother's heart, a sudden pang of guilt tore through him. But he decided to fuel the rage in him rather than any other emotions.

John House stood up abruptly and stormed out of the café, nearby eyes following him. House glared at the onlookers, who quickly looked away. His mother's blue eyes were glazed, her face downcast – she wanted, she needed her family to stay together.

As if House read hear mind, he broke the silence, "He isn't my father."

"Dear God Gregory, where did you get that idea fr-," she stopped. Her son could always read her like an open book. "How did you…"

"Erm…apart from the fact that he hates me because we have nothing in common…I look nothing like him. He has a cleft chin which runs through his family because it is present in the dominant allele and-" House saw Blythe turned pale. It wasn't anger that painted her face, it was…guilt. "Mom…"

"He loves you. He just…he can't show it" she whispered while she fought back tears. She closed her eyes and tried to compose herself, to try and regain her calm façade. House never saw his mother become emotional like this. She always kept a mask over her feelings. He wanted to comfort her but he didn't know how to, he was never one to console or reassure people. House sat next to her, putting a hand to her shoulder. After a few minutes, Blythe reached next to her, a long thin box. It was a brown wooden hard case. "Greg…we're a family. No matter what you think or believe." She pushed the box towards him. "It's a family heirloom. You father received it from his father and so on." She took his hands into hers. She quickly stole a glance outside at her husband outside. "I love you. We love you." Blythe kissed her son's forehead and stood up. House regarded his mother, and stood up, giving her a hug, an action rarely given to anyone. He smiled thankfully, his actions spoke more volume than any words could. Blythe made her way out of the café, stopping to quickly glance at her son, and then she was gone.

House stood there for a few moments, analysing what just happened. He wasn't happy, but he didn't expect any better, to be honest he expected worst. He sighed. Biologically related or not, he didn't need his father. He grabbed the weighty box and just wanted to be in bed for the rest of the day.

Would love constructive criticism guys, so leave a review and I shall crack onto the next chapter :D