A/N: I have no idea where this came from.
Disclaimer: Do I have to do this every time?
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Physiotherapy
"Go ahead, yell. Scream. Hit me, if it makes you feel better. Focus all your energy into pushing me away, it'll take your mind off the damn leg. Try all you want, because I'm not going
anywhere. If you thought that I didn't have enough balls to see you through physio, then you have severly underestimated your genes. I do, and I will. And you know what? I'd think
twice about implying anything about my relationship with my father. I love my father. I don't have a raging Electra complex that makes me want to take care of him, I'm not
compensating for a crappy childhood, or any other ridiculous psychoanalytical crap you can come up with. I don't think he needs fixing. And if you say another thing about me clenching,
or anything about the saint Dr. Cameron must be, by the time I'm done with you, you're going to WISH Allison Cameron was in charge of your physio." She didn't pause for breath as her
commanding voice rang out despite its low tone and volume into the near-empty physical therapy room.
"Now move."
The two other men stared slack jawed at the young woman standing in her battle stance mere inches from them. Right then, House admitted to himself that he really didn't think that
she had the balls. A small tendril of pride almost made him smile. She did. Good for her, he thought, as he used her for support and shuffled a few more steps.
He met his best friend's eyes over the bowed head of his daughter, and smiled at his astonished expression.
He was again filled with pride as he shrugged at Wilson, eyes twinkling, as if to say, "Did you expect anything else from MY daughter?"