A/N: I've decided to briefly venture back into the Only Fools Rush In Universe. This is going to be short story, no more than three chapters or so. The focus is heavily centered on Rachel, which I'm sure you gathered from the title, but underneath it all, it's about House and Cuddy. This takes place before the epilogue to the original story, and Rachel is 16 and a Junior in high school. If you haven't read Only Fools Rush In, don't worry, this will still make sense. Simply disregard canon for a bit :D

Enjoy!

She recognized the zip code on the envelope. She recognized the name too, but she tried not to think about that. She knew what was inside without having to look; she was surprised it taken him this long, but she didn't want to think about that either. She didn't want to think about any of it, so she cast the envelope to the side and did her best to ignore it.

She thought about her daughter instead. Rachel. Barely sixteen but wise beyond her years with the spontaneity level of a ten year old—something she knew she got from House. She preferred sketches to calculus and spent her money on fashion magazines and drawing pencils. She loved chess and Woody Allen, but she wasn't afraid to admit that she still enjoyed watching Anastasia. She had a single freckle on the right side of her nose and blue eyes that sparkled all on their own. She had a smile turned heads and a look of determination that scared some. Her daughter was a gift. A gift she wasn't necessarily willing to share.

She looked down at the envelope. Rachel had a field hockey game in half an hour and House would be by her office soon. They made it a point to make it to all of her home games; they both had busy schedules, but Cuddy insisted that they make the effort—not that she understood what was happening during the games. Rachel had been playing for over six years and she still had no idea what the hell a "spin dodge" was.

She sighed and reached for her letter opener, knowing full well that she couldn't ignore it; it was the elephant in the room; a question in a letter.

Cuddy tore the jagged blade through envelope with slightly more force than normal. She took a deep breath before letting her eyes wander down the page.

Dr. Cuddy,

I'm sure you've figured out why I'm writing to you by this point. I'm curious as to how long it took you to open this letter—probably the same amount of time it took me to write it, if not longer. Anyway, I want you to know that I am so grateful for what you've done the past 16 years. It feels weird to write that number down. I can't believe it's been that long. Anyway, I hope you're doing well. I have no doubt in my mind that you've been a great mom to Rachel. I hope that she's well, too. I also hope you don't mind that I took the liberty of looking you up. I'd decided a long time ago that I would, but I didn't have the courage to do it until now. Maybe that makes me a coward, I don't know. Maybe it just makes me human. The point is that I looked you up, that I'm making the effort—that I'd like to make the effort. With Rachel, that is. She's older now, and more importantly, I'm older now. I know that's no excuse, but it's the only one I've got. I don't regret leaving her with you. I want to make that clear—I've never regretted leaving her with you. But I have regretted not knowing her, and I'm at a point in my life where I'd like to make amends. I won't bore you with the finer details, but I have changed a lot since the last time you saw me. I've graduated college and held a steady and fairly lucrative job for almost five years now. I've had a few serious relationships, but nothing that felt one hundred percent right. I think I'm ready to be—well I'm ready to be anything that Rachel wants me to be, if that makes sense. Even if that means absolutely nothing. There's another letter inside, one I hope you'll let her read. I'll understand if you don't, or of you don't think she's ready yet. You certainly know her better than me, better than anyone I'd imagine. But out of purely selfish reasons, I hope you do show it to her. Because I have a lot to say, and I'd really like it if she would listen. Anyway, I've already taken up too much of your time. Don't feel obligated to write me back. In fact, don't feel obligated to do anything. But do think about what I said.

Thanks for your time.

Sincerely,

Simon Baker

She sighed once more, the tension leaving her body as she slumped her shoulders. She brought a hand to her forehead and rubbed it gently. She didn't know what to do. She'd been waiting for this letter to arrive ever since Rachel turned twelve, but in the back of her mind she always hoped it never would; Rachel's father being out of the picture made everyone's live easier. Simpler. Rachel knew she was adopted, and a few years back they'd told her the full story, but she'd never had to face the issue head on; Cuddy never heard from her grandparents and her father hadn't made contact until now. Rachel being adopted had been an abstract issue—now it was very, very real.

She didn't know if her sixteen-year-old daughter was emotionally ready to handle this; and perhaps more importantly, she didn't know if she was emotionally prepared to handle this.

Cuddy looked up as she heard her door swing open. She quickly cleared her throat and attempted to make herself look busy, brushing the letter aside for the time being. She fixed her eyes on her computer, pretending not to notice House leering over her desk.

He scoffed.

"What you got there?" he asked, nodding his head in the direction of the letter.

Cuddy gave him an innocent look.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, shrugging him off as she turned off her computer. She wasn't ready to have this conversation with; she already knew what his opinion would be. "We should go. Her game is starting soon," she said, pretending to check her watch distractedly.

House smirked as they both realized she wasn't even wearing a watch.

"Do you have a secret love letter happening? Because if that's the case, it's not only inappropriate and mean, it's pathetically uncreative," he joked, giving her a mocking smile.

Cuddy gave him a slight smile.

"It's nothing," she said, defeated. He raised his eyebrows at her. She took a deep breath and reached for the letter, wordlessly gesturing for him to sit down in the chair across from her. "It came earlier this morning," she confessed, handing him the letter. "I couldn't open it until now."

He nodded as his eyes scanned the page; he didn't bother to read every word. He knew what it was the moment he saw the zip code on the return address.

"You knew it would happen one day," he said, throwing the letter back on the desk. He shrugged as he relaxed into the chair, letting his cane rest up against the side. She studied his face; it was completely blank.

Cuddy nodded.

"I guess I have to decide what to do about it," she said, half to him and half to herself. She reached for the letter and tucked it safely into her briefcase, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

House gave her a quizzical look.

"That's not exactly your decision to make," he said, raising his eyebrows at her.

Cuddy's eyes widened.

"What are you talking about? I'm her mother. Did you even read what that letter said?"

"Yeah," he answered pointedly, narrowing his eyes at her. "I read the part where Rachel's biological father respects you enough to go through you in an attempt to get to her. If I were him I would have skipped over you entirely."

Cuddy folded her arms across her chest, exasperated over his insinuation.

"So you're taking his side?" she asked angrily, her voice becoming louder than she anticipated.

"No," he said matter-of-factly, "I'm taking hers. You might want to try it."

Cuddy tightened her arms across her chest, silently fuming as she rolled her eyes.

"I'm trying to protect her," she said definitively. "You think she's ready to handle all of this? She's barely sixteen."

"I think she's more than ready to handle this," he answered confidently, nodding his head at her. "You're the one I'm worried about."

Cuddy sighed. It would have been sweet if it wasn't so goddamned condescending.

"I don't know what to do," she said softly, meeting House's eyes. "She's still a baby to me," she whispered, a soft smile escaping her lips. "She's always going to be a baby. But this…this will change everything."

House looked over at his wife. His wife. They'd been married for almost ten years and it still felt weird calling her that. He knew that Cuddy and Rachel had a bond unlike most teenage girls and their mothers; Cuddy was her mother, but she was also her friend. Rachel had never felt the need to keep secrets from them—from either one of them, really—and up until this point, Cuddy had balanced the two roles she played in her daughter's life to a tee. She knew when to discipline and when to listen; when to give advice and when to console; she knew exactly what to do in every situation.

Cuddy was a great friend to Rachel. But she was an even better mother.

"You have to show it to her," he said simply. "This isn't your decision to make, Cuddy. It's up to her. She gets to decide who is in her life, not you."

Cuddy shook her head, her lips pursed in discontent.

"She's sixteen!" she protested, her eyes widening in frustration. "She's my daughter. You don't think that gives me a right to decide who wanders in and out of her life?"

"This isn't some teenage boy who wants to get up her skirt," he pointed out, ignoring the look of disgust that Cuddy gave him. "And yeah, you better get ready for that one, too. He's her father, Cuddy. He's not going anywhere. Might as well make peace with it now."

Cuddy shook her head and stood up, gripping onto her briefcase with her recently manicured hand.

"She's not ready," she said simply, her eyes fixed on his as she walked out from behind her desk. "I don't want to discuss this any more. Come on, we're going to be late for the game."

They walked out of her office in silence, both more pissed off than they cared to admit. Him, because she failed to understand what kind of damage keeping this secret could cause, and her, because deep down, she knew just how right he was.

About all of it.

Cuddy tapped her heels on the metal bleachers, turning her head as she searched for her daughter in a sea of ponytails. She knew Rachel played center midfield, which made it almost impossible to find her; she was constantly up and down the field.

She glanced over at House. He was leaning up against the fence, his cane propped up at the side as he followed the game; he never had any trouble finding Rachel, which infuriated her to no end—especially when he decided that it would be better to lean up against the fence that sit with her for the next two hours.

Cuddy sighed. She didn't exactly click with any of the other mothers. Most of them were stay at home moms who showed up to the games in their sporty chic wear and blown out ponytails, while she usually came straight from work and had to make her way to the bleachers in impossibly high Jimmy Choos. But every now and then she'd remember to pack a pair of jeans and some flats, and the other mothers would be all over her. House said it was because she intimidated them, but she wasn't so sure. She just didn't have that much in common with them; she didn't fault them for that.

She glared over at House before turning her attention back to the game. She knew his leg had to be killing him, but he was too stubborn to come sit down and she was too stubborn to go and see if he was okay. She rolled her eyes. She understood where he was coming from; she knew that he had never known his real father, and that it affected him more than he cared to admit, but she also knew that House and Rachel were completely different people. They didn't react to things the same way. Not knowing ate him away; knowing might destroy her fairy-tale perception. They never really talked about her biological parents, but Cuddy knew Rachel had quite the imagination.

She just didn't want her daughter to be disappointed.

Cuddy swept her straightened hair up into a ponytail, wrapping a loose strand around the elastic, smiling to herself as she caught sight of her daughter on the field. She watched as Rachel expertly dribbled the ball down the field, moving around the opposing team with quick taps of the ball and various tricks; Cuddy thought the moves were called dodges, but she wasn't completely sure. She smiled as Rachel effortlessly sent the ball flying down the field to one of her teammates.

She lost sight of her when she felt someone slide into the seat next to her.

"Hey," said Amelia, slightly out of breath as she flipped her long blonde hair onto the side of her shoulder. "Sorry I'm late, I wasn't sure I could make it. What's the score? Are we winning? And why is House off brooding all by himself?"

Cuddy sighed, shaking her head at Amelia's antics. She was always five minutes late and full of questions.

"I have no idea if we're winning because I have no idea what the score is, and House is standing over there because we're in a fight. Sort of."

"A fight?" she asked, half concerned and half curious. "About what? Did he shave again? Because I am in complete agreement with you, he looks so much better with a little disheveled scruff."

Cuddy let out a slight laugh and turned towards her friend. "This is a little more serious than stubble," she answered, sighing as she turned her head towards where he was standing. She saw him reach down to rub his leg, feeling a pang of guilt as she watched him. "I got a letter from Rachel's father," she admitted.

Amelia's face softened, her mouth hanging slightly open and her eyes immediately widening. She gave Cuddy a sympathetic look.

"What did he say? Does he want something?" she asked earnestly, making sure to keep her voice to a low whisper. They were seated far enough away from the other moms, but she still thought the topic warranted for hushed tones.

Cuddy shrugged.

"I don't know what he wants, exactly. He wants to talk to her, obviously, but after that…" he voice trailed and she sighed, bringing a hand to her temple. "I'm just not sure she's ready for this. She's still so young."

Amelia nodded along, placing a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder, rubbing it gently for a few moments. She'd hadn't seen Cuddy this distraught over something in years.

"What did House say about this? I take it he disagrees with you?" she asked, making sure not to offer up her opinion unless she was directly asked for it; this wasn't her decision to make.

Cuddy nodded.

"He thinks it's wrong to hide this from her. Thinks she should be able to decide on her own. And I get that, but I don't know. She's my daughter. How am I supposed to react?"

Amelia sighed.

"Like this. Like any other mother would. Adoption can be tough on kids, but sometimes it can be harder on the adoptive parents. I can't tell you what to do," she said, giving her a soft smile. Cuddy nodded; she wasn't looking for someone to tell her she was right or wrong. "But whatever it is that you decide, you and House have to be on the same page. It's not going to work if you're on different sides."

"I know," she said, sighing as she answered. Her gaze lingered over towards House, who was now slightly more hunched over, his arms resting on the fence. "I should go check on him."

Amelia nodded. "Good idea," she said, giving Cuddy a supportive smile. Her gaze shifted to the field when she heard the familiar sound of a ball banging against the backboard of the goal. "But before you do, you might want to clap. I think Rachel just scored. Or maybe it was one of the other skinny girls with a brown ponytail. I can never be sure."

Cuddy let out a slight laugh as she started to clap, scanning the field for her daughter. She smiled as she saw her jogging back towards the midfield line with the ball in her hand, which meant she had been the one responsible for the goal.

She watched as Rachel looked over to the stands, giving her mom an excited look, followed by a perplexed one as she saw House standing off to the side. Cuddy watched as Rachel shook her head in amusement, undoubtedly assuming that they were fighting over something trivial.

And as she got up, Cuddy was plagued by the sinking feeling that her daughter would soon realize that not everything in the world was so innocent.

"You should come sit down," Cuddy said, turning so that she was facing him. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a sympathetic look. He shrugged.

"I'm fine," he said simply, turning his attention back to the field. He sighed when he realized it was half time and the field was empty.

"House," she began tiredly, giving him a pleading look. She didn't have the energy to be fighting with him. He sighed and turned towards her. "I don't want to fight with you about this."

He shrugged, as if not believing her. "Then don't," he stated simply, giving her a mocking smile. She rolled her eyes. "It's as easy as that."

"You're unbelievable," she muttered, turning to walk away from him. She paused mid-step and turned around, folding her arms over her chest and giving him a glaring look. "You are so wrapped up in your own mind that you can't even begin to understand where I'm coming from," she hissed.

"I do understand where you're coming from," he fired back, gritting his teeth so not to raise his voice. "I just don't agree with it. And you can't handle that."

Cuddy shook her head.

"No. What I can't handle is letting my daughter get in touch with this man only to be disappointed. That's what I can't handle."

"What could she possibly be disappointed by?" he argued, throwing his hand out to the side. "She knows he was a teenager when she was born. She's aware of the situation he was in. She's not a moron, Cuddy. And frankly, she doesn't need as much protection as you think she does."

"I know she's not a moron," Cuddy fired back defensively. "She's independent and smart and ambitious but she's also human. It's going to be difficult for her to come to terms with the situation."

House scoffed.

"It's going to be difficult no matter when it happens. It would be difficult if she were thirty. Age has nothing to do with it. The sooner you realize that the better off everyone else is," he added calmly, turning to look at her.

Cuddy nodded, her head bowed and her arms folded over her chest. She knew he was right, that she was being overly cautious and slightly untrusting of her own daughter, but as prepared as she was for something like this, she still felt uneasy. After sixteen years, she figured she'd earned that right.

"Look," he said, speaking to her softer than he had a few moments ago. He turned to face her and she took a few steps towards him, her head still bowed. He extended his arm out to her elbow, tugging at it gently. She lifted her head up. "You're under this naïve impression that if Rachel gets to know her dad she will suddenly stop loving you. That's not going to happen."

Cuddy cast her eyes to ground, letting out a slight sniffle. "How do you know?" she asked softly, lifting her eyes to meet his.

"It's impossible to stop loving you," he said, joking with her as he gently nudged her arm. She rolled her eyes and let out a slight laugh. "I'm serious, Cuddy. There are about ten thousand ways this could all go very, horribly wrong, but no matter what happens, you'll never stop being her mom."

Cuddy nodded, a small smile escaping her lips as House extended his arm out to her. She scooted closer to him, letting him wrap his arm around her waist as she clung to his side. She turned her head towards him.

"You were wrong before," she whispered, looking at him. He eyed her quizzically, trying to figure out which part of his argument she was going to refute next. "He's not Rachel's dad. You are."

"So, as I was saying, I was trying to finish this drawing I'd been working on for like, two weeks, when the bell rang. And my teacher wasn't there so we had a substitute, and she was all "You have to go to your next class, I'm not writing you a pass," which number one, is rude, and number two, is an act that I consider to be detrimental to my creative process," said Rachel, shrugging her shoulders as she grabbed a slice of pizza from the table. I mean, how would you feel if someone was suddenly all 'Sorry, you have to stop Doctering right now."? It's rude," she said, chewing as fast as she could.

House smirked. "If you got sent to the principle's office for refusing to leave class I am officially disowning you," he said. "At least try to steal some of the art supplies or something."

Rachel smiled innocently, her eyes shifting over to her backpack. She shrugged her shoulders.

"Rachel," hissed Cuddy slightly disapprovingly, giving her a playful glare.

"What?" she asked innocently. Cuddy stared her down and she sighed, taking another bite of pizza. "It's not like any of the other kids know how to use them," she argued. "Or take care of them, for that matter. Really, I'm doing the pencils a favor. They deserve to be owned by someone who will love them."

"You're right, stealing is completely acceptable when it's justified," Cuddy said sarcastically, giving her daughter a pointed look. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Rachel beamed triumphantly. "I'm so glad we're on the same page. Speaking of which," said Rachel, taking another bite of her pizza.

"You know every once in a while you might want to think about taking a breath or two," House said, sliding the plate away from her while she talked.

Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Speaking of which," she repeated, giving House a playful glare, "do you guys want to tell me what you were so openly arguing about during half time? The team would not shut up about the two of you. By the way Mom, Michaela wants to know where you bought your shoes."

"Don't worry about it," said Cuddy sweetly. "Finish your dinner."

"Don't worry about the argument or the shoes? Because I told Michaela that the shoes were probably too expensive for her, but who knows with her parents these days. I mean ever since her dad cheated on her mom he's been doing everything he can to get back on her good side. Before you know it she'll have four summer houses instead of two."

"She only has two summer houses?" House asked mockingly, shaking his head in feigned disgust. "What kind of school are we sending you to? We're supposed to be exposing you to snobby elitists so you'll develop the sense that you're better than everyone else." He looked over at Cuddy, who was shaking her head disapprovingly. "We've failed her."

"That's enough," said Cuddy, a slight smile on her face. "So besides stealing art supplies, how was the rest of your day?"

Rachel shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh you know, the usual. Michaela and Alexandra got in the biggest fight during lunch, which of course, made fifth period super awkward for Emma and me. It's like the two of them can't function if they're not arguing. Whatever. I got an A on a Calculus test and an A+ on my English paper, so it was just a regular Tuesday afternoon. Can we go back to the argument, please? Your attempt to skirt over the issue was disappointingly underwhelming."

Cuddy looked down at her salad, clearing her throat as she distractedly forked through the remains of her dinner. She looked over at House, who was eyeing her suspiciously, waiting for her to make the first move; this wasn't his story tell.

Cuddy cleared her throat once more, reaching fro her wine glass and taking an unusually long sip. House sighed, knowing she wasn't going to say a word.

"Your mom won't have sex with me at work. It's becoming an issue," he deadpanned.

Cuddy scoffed, swatting him on the arm while silently thanking him for not telling the truth; it simply wasn't the time or place.

Rachel laughed good-naturedly, rolling her eyes as she shook her head.

"You guys are so gross."

Cuddy tossed and turned restlessly, readjusting the pillows every five seconds. She turned over and looked at House, who was skimming a medical journal, his glassed perched on his nose.

"We should have told her the truth," he mused, not looking up from the article he was reading. "She knows we were lying."

Cuddy nodded, sighing as she scooted closer to him. She abandoned the pillows for his chest, curling up into his side. He wrapped his arm around her, his fingers rubbing up and down the side of her arm.

"I know," she whispered, sighing as the day's events finally registered with her. "I'll tell her. I just…I need some more time." House turned his head, giving her a pointed look; they both knew that if she didn't tell her soon, she never would. "I will tell her by this weekend. Promise," she said confidently, smiling up at him as she held out her pinkie.

House rolled his eyes and shut the medical journal, letting it drop to the floor as he held out his pinkie to her. They linked them together, laughing as they moved their joined hands up and down. As a kid, Rachel had been obsessed with making pinkie swears. Somehow, over the years, the tradition had yet to die out.

"House," said Cuddy earnestly, looking up at him. He mumbled something in reply as he turned his head towards her. "I'm sorry. I know this topic can be sensitive for you, and you were right, it's not fair to hide this from her. And it's ridiculous that I feel the need to say this after all this time, but if you need to talk abut anything, I'm here."

House nodded.

"I know," he said. "Hit the light, will you?"

Cuddy gave him a perplexed look, sitting up and propping herself up on her elbow.

"You know?" she repeated, her hair falling over her shoulder as she tilted her head. "That's all you have to say?"

House shrugged.

"Well it would be redundant of me to agree with you on me being right," he said. "That's usually a given, anyway." Cuddy rolled her eyes as she curled in tighter to his side. "I know I can talk to you, Cuddy. I've always known that."

"Okay," she whispered softly, closing her eyes as she breathed a deep sigh of relief. "Goodnight," she said, yawning as she relaxed into his touch.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead before settling in next to her.

Rachel Cuddy tiptoed through the house, careful not to make any noise as she made her way to her parent's bedroom. She was completely alone, but for some reason, she still felt the need to be as quiet as possible—probably because she knew she was doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing.

But they were just shoes. Her mom had hundreds of them; surely she wouldn't notice if one of them had gone missing for a few hours. Rachel opened the door to their bedroom, cringing as the door slightly creaked. She smirked as she walked in, noticing that half of the room was spotless while the other half was in complete disarray.

She opened the door to her mother's closet, searching for the pair of shoes she'd had in mind when she planned her outfit earlier that morning. One of her friends was throwing a party on the top of the fancy hotel that her father owned in DC; the party was bound to be glamorous and over the top, so she and her best friend, Emma, would go for all of one hour and then sneak out to catch a movie or wander around one of the art museums.

She grinned triumphantly as she found the black Jimmy Choos she'd been searching for.

But as she walked out of her parent's bedroom, her eyes caught something that had been tucked underneath her mother's vanity mirror. It was an envelope, but from the looks of it, the seal had already been broken. She paused, curiosity getting the best of her. She set the shoes down on the ground and reached for the letter, her heart stopping as she glanced over the return address.

She recognized the zip code. She recognized the name.

Fun fact: I'm posting this on the one year anniversary of the original story. Everybody say awwww. Leave a review!

-Alison