A/N: I decided to divide this "one shot" into two chapters. It's longer than it seemed mentally and had a nice dividing line anyway. Good House/Thomas moments (and Jet) coming in part two.

Enjoy!

(H/C)

"Now I know how a sardine feels," House grumbled. "We could have taken two cars." He, of course, had the best of it since he was driving, and Cuddy's vehicle was the roomiest available anyway and not that crowded even with five passengers, two in car seats.

"Saves gas," Thomas noted from the passenger's front. He hid his smile. Greg was obviously enjoying this family day and even the drive, which was probably why he'd felt obligated to complain about it.

"What's sardine?" Rachel asked from behind her father.

"It's a kind of little fish," Cuddy started dutifully, turning a little to face her older daughter.

Rachel cut her off by bursting into laughter. "We're not a fish!" she scolded. "Silly Daddy."

House grinned before he caught himself, then glanced quickly over at the old man. Thomas wasn't even trying to conceal his merriment now. He looked far younger than 75 as he twisted in the seat to smile back at his granddaughter, and his eyes were glowing.

House looked back at the road. Housewarming. The whole idea sounded foreign to him. Throughout his life, he'd usually marked moving with a mocking beer to the memory of having John out of his life that somehow turned into far too many subsequent beers and ended up having nothing at all positive about the mood of the evening. The only relocation he'd really celebrated had been his into Cuddy's former home, now theirs together, and that one had been celebrated in the bedroom privately. In childhood, the priority as soon as they reached a new place had been to "get everything in order," in John's words. John had supervised, only pitching in proudly on the things that "needed a man" to move them into place, but he wanted the new house unpacked and organized at once, and Blythe and Greg both had been driven like slaves for the first few days. No matter how fast they had worked, it was never good enough. House sighed softly.

"Greg?" Cuddy's voice reached through the past to find him unerringly, and he emerged once again into the sunny Saturday morning in the car with his family.

"Just thinking," he reassured her. He stole a quick sideways look at Thomas again. The old man was watching him more closely now, of course. "Rachel," he said, "sardines are packed into a can so tight that they don't have any room at all. They're right next to each other, couldn't move if they tried. That's why we're like sardines."

"I have room," she countered, throwing out one arm vigorously and socking her mother in the chest. "When is Ember?"

"About ten more minutes," Thomas replied. "We're almost there. Then after the stable, you get to see Jet."

"We did see Jet," Abby insisted, just making the point for accuracy.

"Doesn't count. He was asleep," Rachel answered. "Now he's awake, and we're gonna have a PARTY!"

House wasn't sure if it had been Cuddy's idea or the old man's to have a housewarming at his new place today, but they had been plotting it together since Thursday night, Cuddy on logistical details and timing but with enthusiasm behind her planning frenzy and Thomas adding details like going to the stable first and watching a family movie all together after their barbeque (with a side of vegetables to be available for the rabbits among them).

At least the in-laws weren't invited. That would help make the day more bearable.

Not that it was too bad so far, he had to admit. Thomas had come over, and they had all gone out to breakfast together to IHOP for pancakes, a destination that House always enjoyed even with the bittersweet memory of his mother coloring the edges of his thoughts since her death. Now they were heading to the barn, and afterwards, once thoroughly horsed, they would resardine themselves and return to Princeton for a BBQ, a hopefully gentle introduction of the girls to the kitten, and then a movie.

No unpacking. Thomas was already done. Just enjoying each other's company. Celebrating.

An odd agenda, especially involving a father. He wasn't quite sure how to classify it or what to expect from the day.

"I was looking at those x-rays again yesterday," he said to Thomas as he dodged from unfamiliar emotions into medicine. "That splint is really well done." House had gone over to Thomas' place for lunch on Thursday and had given Jet a thorough examination then.

"It is," Thomas agreed. "He can't put any weight on the joints of that leg, but he can get around after a fashion. He's getting better at balancing on it all the time."

"Yeah, but the point is the hardware. They had to use it with this bad a break, but it's going to create problems, too. It needs to be removed as soon as possible, because it's not growing with him. But the splint really protects him. So I was thinking, I wouldn't wait for the fracture to get healed. Soon as there was good callus started, I'd go ahead and remove the hardware early and then leave him in the splint another six weeks or so after that. Let it finish out unfixed. With weight kept off it until it was totally healed, I think it would keep mending all right given a good start fastened together, and meanwhile, the bone could grow. Even a few weeks less of hardware might lead to less leg length discrepancy eventually. I'd start thinking about it around two to three weeks."

"That makes sense," Thomas said thoughtfully. "I'll call the clinic on Monday and talk to them. I know she'd meant to leave the hardware longer than that, but it's a good point."

"You're going to have to keep him in the splint anyway for a while after the hardware is removed, just to protect the leg, no matter when we do it. It needs to be rock solid, 100% before he's allowed to put weight on it. You realize what's going to happen as soon as that splint is off?"

Thomas laughed, picturing the black kitten zooming around the house at a full wobble gallop, crashing into things, rediscovering his balance, playing with the world as weeks of pent-up kitten energy released like a dam breaking. "That name might turn out to be appropriate in more ways than one. He tries to play even now."

"He won't understand easing back into things. Can't reason with him like a human patient. Not that you can reason with some of them, either." House put on his blinker.

"Ember!" Rachel looked out the window at the barn as they pulled in. "Can Jet come see Ember?"

"No, Rachel. Jet doesn't need out here. He'd hurt himself. They have some barn cats here; I'll try to find one to introduce you to." Thomas opened the door as House turned the ignition off. "And I have a surprise to show you girls."

Abby was wary. "I don't like 'prises."

"I think you'll like this one. It just got here yesterday. A brand new surprise." He opened the back door and started unbuckling Abby from her car seat. Cuddy, in the middle, was at work on Rachel.

House limped away a few strides, watching the people. Young, healthy people, some entering the barn, one leading her horse out, two already up riding in the outdoor ring. Going out for a morning of physical activity, all oblivious to how quickly it might end. He had been enjoying recreation himself when the lightning bolt had struck. The cane felt heavy in his hand.

Abby, lifted to the ground by Thomas, broke away from her grandfather and rounded the car to her father. "You don't like 'prises, too," she said.

He smiled down at her and picked her up just to remind himself that he still could. A little twinge from the ribs and the leg, neither of which were enjoying the course of PT he'd set himself, but it wasn't too bad. He silently informed them to shut up; they'd had this morning as a break from the sessions and had no right to complain today. "It depends, Abby. Once in a while, you get a nice one." She had been a surprise, he remembered. Unplanned, not even really thought possible given Cuddy's past history. His beautiful little blue-eyed girl.

"Can I record that for posterity?" Cuddy said as she came to his side. "The hospital would never believe you said those words." She followed his look, and her expression softened as she gave his arm an understanding squeeze.

"Let's GO!" Rachel was dancing at the end of Thomas's long arm, twirling on the pivot point of his hand. "I wanna see Ember. And barn cats. And the surprise."

A few people called out greetings to Thomas as they walked to the open barn doors. The old man was already making friends after just a week here at the stable, House thought. How did he do that?

Once inside, the location of the "surprise" could easily be guessed by the small knot of people in front of the largest stall on the aisle. They joined the group, Thomas picking up Rachel for a better view. Rachel looked in and gave a soft squeal of pure delight.

The mare turned to look at Rachel suspiciously, her ears shifting back in warning. The little foal by her side was oblivious to her admirers. Instead, she was busy at her own breakfast, her short foal tail flipping occasionally in pure contentment as she nursed.

"You can't squeal out here, Rachel," Thomas reminded his granddaughter gently.

Abby was rapt. "A baby?" she asked her father. They'd seen a pony here, too, but this one looked different, not just smaller.

"Yes. It's a baby horse," House replied. He studied the foal. It was a cute little thing, he had to admit.

"She was just born yesterday morning," Thomas told them. "A brand new baby horse." The filly finished her meal and walked a few steps around the large stall, then eyed the people curiously. Little droplets of milk still clung to her muzzle.

Abby giggled suddenly. "She can walk."

Rachel tossed her curls at such an obvious statement. "Course she can walk."

"Better than Daniel."

House chuckled as he realized what she meant. "You think Daniel was a lot slower to learn to walk?"

Abby nodded. "He's slow."

"Horses can walk on the day they're born," Thomas told his granddaughters. "They do it a lot faster than people. They can run, even." He didn't add the reason why. In the wild, a helpless, immobile baby was a waiting meal for a predator. A horse's defense was his speed.

"Good morning, Thomas." Marilyn joined the group. "I see you brought my little horse girls in training again."

"Can I pet the baby?" Rachel asked.

"No, not yet, Rachel. In a week or two, okay? Her mother is still a little protective of her, so only my help and I are handling them yet. This is Velvet's first baby, and she's still figuring her new role out."

"What's tective?" Rachel asked.

"That means she doesn't want anything to happen to her baby. She doesn't know you, Rachel. She'll relax and get used to the activity around her foal. This is just all new to her."

"Did you pet her, Grandpa Thomas?" Rachel asked.

"No. I'm waiting, too. So we'll have to wait together." Rachel smiled and gave him a conspiratorial hug.

"It's not a part old baby?" Abby asked in her tone of confirming the order of things in her world.

"It's a baby," her sister replied impatiently. "Babies aren't old!"

Thomas abruptly put the question together. The filly had a wide white blaze standing out against her darker fuzzy foal coat. "Because of the white hair on her face, you mean?"

Abby nodded vigorously. "You said. But not white, not color. It's parts. Dif'rent like cats?"

"Yes, exactly. Horses come that way sometimes, Abby, with mixed white and colors at the same time. They're called markings. That doesn't mean she's old. It's just how she looks. In fact. . ." He turned away from the group, whose members were now watching the girls as much as the foal and with similar smiles. "Come here."

They followed him around into another aisle to another stall. The pinto gelding inside looked at them with mild curiosity as he munched his morning hay. Abby was delighted. "It's got pots! Like the puppy in the park."

"Yes. They come in spots sometimes. That's just how he's marked, like the puppy."

"And he had baby pots, too?" Abby asked, just getting the system clear.

"Yes, he looked just like this as a baby. Only smaller."

"Horses are dif'rent," Abby said wisely, filing these rules. "Not old and white. And can have parts. Like cats."

"Horses are not like cats," Rachel insisted. "I wanna see a cat, Grandpa Thomas."

At that moment, a thud echoed down the aisle, and there came an annoyed rumble. The family looked up to see Ember, four stalls away, with her head out her stall door, glaring at Thomas. She kicked the door again and nickered low in her throat, a sound without any room at all for interpretation.

House gave her an admiring nod. "I never heard a horse curse at someone before."

"Most animals can in their own language," Thomas told him. "I'm sure you've seen Belle get expressive a time or two."

"She's pretty good at it," Cuddy said.

Thomas started for the stall. "Ember, you haven't got anything to worry about. I was just saving the best for last." The mare's reply was a dubious snort.

Rachel giggled. "Silly Ember!"

Thomas set his granddaughter down. "Stand back, okay, Rachel? Remember what we talked about. You can't run, and you can't squeal. You don't want to scare her."

"Come here, Rachel," Cuddy called. Rachel retreated obediently, and Cuddy captured her hand and tried a few deep breathing techniques. She'd had a good talk with Patterson about this yesterday, but she knew the fear would take work to overcome.

House shifted his weight almost imperceptibly, drawing her concerned attention to him and away from Thomas, who was entering the stall. Her stubborn husband had had three serious PT sessions so far. She had crept down to watch a few minutes of the one yesterday morning, hanging back just outside the big room and behind his line of sight. Merely being a spectator had made her hurt. She was glad he'd have the weekend off. He was still not 100% healed from the explosion, though he would have denied that.

Abby, perceptive as ever, wiggled in his left arm. "Down, Daddy!" she demanded. House tensed up a little, sorting through her motives, then gave up and put her down. He did catch her small hand in his left one as Thomas opened the stall door again and emerged with the now-haltered mare.

Ember seemed to have grown, Cuddy thought. She backed up to the wall, giving them more room than needed to pass, and then she and House followed Thomas as he led Ember to one of the grooming stalls at the end of the aisle. Once she was cross tied, he went a few feet to a bank of lockers and opened his, getting his grooming equipment out.

Rachel pulled forward, tugging at Cuddy's hand. "Hi, Ember," she said, and nobody could have accused her of squealing. Her tone was reverent.

Ember pricked her ears at her name and looked down at Rachel. Thomas came back and set the caddy full of grooming tools to the side. "Come here, Rachel," he called. "But bring one of them with you." Without a word, House and Cuddy traded small hands, and House limped up with Rachel as Cuddy with Abby shifted over to the side for a good view while remaining in the background.

Thomas kept one eye on the mare's ears, reading her mood and her feedback. Ember was settling into the new barn after a week here and was much less excited than she had been last Saturday. Even so, Thomas stood so that any sudden movement would impact him first before reaching his son and granddaughter. "Watch this," he told Rachel. Standing on Ember's right side, he tapped her neck firmly about halfway up. She whinnied.

Rachel's eyes widened. "Hi, Ember," she repeated.

"Remember that day you talked to her on the phone?" Rachel nodded. "That's how. My friend I was talking to was cuing her. It's a trick I taught her." He tapped her neck again, and Ember whinnied. "Good girl." Thomas pulled out a mini carrot and fed it to the mare.

"Knew she didn't talk." Abby sounded vindicated in her skepticism, though Rachel was looking fascinated.

"Actually, she does talk, Abby. Yes, that's a trick. But in her language, she talks to me. You just have to learn it, like any language."

Abby shook her head, and House, looking back at his younger daughter, grinned. Abby hated being faked out on something - or even having somebody try to fake her out on something - nearly as much as he did.

Rachel reclaimed his attention, pulling forward. "Can I try?"

Thomas' look of shielded concern at his son annoyed House royally. The old man wasn't worried about Rachel right then. House picked up his daughter and limped a few steps closer, holding her out.

Rachel, of course, immediately started patting all over the mare's red neck, getting no response from Ember except an ear flick. "No, Rachel," Thomas said. "You can't just do it all over without thinking. It's very specific. You have to pay close attention. She has to know you mean something, not just petting her." Thomas caught her hands, stilling them, and then used them to give one firm tap at the designated spot. Ember whinnied. "Good girl." Thomas gave her another carrot and a few strokes as a reward. "Try it like that."

Rachel did her best, and House had a flashback to all those piano lessons trying to get the kid to remember where middle C was instead of just happily hitting every key in the neighborhood. Rachel's enthusiasm surpassed her detail orientation.

Not quite like the piano lessons, he realized a few moments later. Rachel was trying, actually trying, to still her butterfly movements and pay attention, more determined here than she ever had been on the music. "Show me 'gain, Grandpa Thomas," she asked.

He guided her hand and then released it a few inches away from Ember's neck. "Right there. Now tap her firmly. Let her know you're telling her something." Rachel gave it her best shot, and Ember turned her head, looking undecided for a moment, then whinnied. It was nothing like the sharp, prompt response to Thomas' touch (or to Bob's that day during the phone call, Cuddy thought), but it was a whinny.

Rachel's smile would have powered Princeton and Trenton both. "Hi, Ember."

Thomas handed Rachel a mini carrot. "Here, Rachel. Give her her treat, and hold your hand flat like I showed you last week. That's very important." Rachel held her hand flat as a pancake as Ember lipped the carrot off her palm.

"I wanna do it again."

"No, Rachel," Thomas said. "We don't want to just keep doing it over and over. It would get to be no fun for Ember that way. You can try again next time you're out here, okay?" She looked disappointed, and he changed the subject. "Besides, I thought you wanted to see me ride her."

Rachel forget her letdown instantly. "Yay!" she whispered, trying painfully hard not to squeal.

"Here, step back and give me room to work, and I'll get her ready."

House retreated and put Rachel back down gratefully, and they stood a little distance away and watched Thomas groom and saddle the mare. The old man kept up a running commentary, telling them the name and purpose of each grooming tool and piece of tack, and House, with his insatiable appetite for new data, soaked it up just as much as Rachel did. Abby, too, was paying attention, even if she still looked a little ruffled that Thomas had tried to tell them they were really talking to Ember on the phone back on that trip with her grandma's funeral.

Finally Ember was ready. Thomas picked up his helmet and then closed his locker again. "This part is very important, Rachel. You should always wear a helmet when you ride."

Marilyn walked up in time to hear that last statement. "Yes, you should. I even make that a barn rule, Rachel. Anybody who wants to ride at my stable has to wear a helmet. So if you start to ride in a few months, you'll have to wear one like your grandpa has there."

"Won't fit," Abby protested, and all of them laughed. Thomas put his helmet on Rachel for a moment, and it did indeed come clear down over her nose. Abby got into giggle fits watching, and then Rachel wanted to see it on her sister so she could see how funny it looked for herself. All in all, it was a few minutes before Thomas unclipped the cross ties and led Ember toward the outside ring.

Cuddy took a deep breath as they stopped outside the ring and Thomas went on in. House had both of their daughters at the moment, Abby holding onto one finger of his right hand and Rachel on his left, and Cuddy halted a few feet behind them. "He rides really well," Marilyn commented softly, stopping beside her as they watched Thomas check the length of his stirrups. "He's not top class in talent, but he doesn't try to be, and he clearly has a lot of experience. He's a very safe pleasure rider."

But it's not totally safe, no matter how careful or skillful you are, Cuddy thought. But was anything in life truly safe? Her husband had been struck down with the beginnings of the infarction while playing golf, hardly a high-risk contact sport.

Thomas checked the tightness of his girth, then walked Ember over to the mounting block. He was into the saddle very gracefully for 75 and so smoothly that Cuddy barely had time to tense up in anticipation before he was already on board. He gave Ember a pat and a treat, and Cuddy noted that the mare had no problems turning her long neck into a U and reaching back to Thomas' hand. He smiled at his family outside the rails. "Easiest way to train a horse to stand still while you mount," he said. "Give them a treat after. Some people call it bribery, but it works."

"Bribery can be very useful," House agreed.

"We're not going to do much today, and I won't do any jumping this morning, Lisa." Thomas looked over at the obstacles set up in the middle of the ring. "These two other riders working right now are out of my league. I don't jump courses that high. Ember and I won't go over three feet max, and we usually just hop a log now and then on the trail."

Cuddy relaxed a little. She had been picturing him going over those fences. She moved up a little closer to her family, and they watched.

It was a revelation. Thomas and Ember might not be limits pushers, but they were definitely a team. Even the nonhorsey observer could see the bond between them. Thomas was perfectly smooth in the saddle, a part of his horse, and Ember obviously was totally familiar with him. They looked like two friends who were completely known to each other out for a Saturday morning ride.

"Look at the horse's ears, Abby," House said. "She talks to him with her ears."

Abby watched closely, soaking it up, but she still had a stubborn edge to her tone. "Not real talk."

Rachel was riveted. Remarkably for her, she stood completely still for almost twenty minutes as Thomas put the mare through all the gaits. Dropping back into a walk, he called over to his family. "Let me walk her a few rounds to cool her off, not that she's really getting hot yet, and then we'll quit. This morning is just to let you see her a little bit. What we do most of the time is trail riding, and that's not spectator friendly." He carefully didn't look at his son as he said it, trying not to leave offense with what was a fact for all spectators.

Ember walked a few more laps, the reins longer now, the two of them relaxed and settled. She jumped once as a loud truck rumbled by, but Thomas barely shifted. A low word that they couldn't quite catch, and her ears turned halfway back again, listening to him, as she resumed her even walk. Thomas halted in front of them and slid off. "What did you think of that, Rachel?" he asked.

Rachel was still nailed to the spot. "Wow!" she said.

Marilyn smiled. "One of these days, Rachel, maybe you can do that."

"On Ember?" With the spell broken as Thomas got off, Rachel was starting to come back to life. She had been told with no room for interpretation that she couldn't ride Ember, and her slightly impish look announced that she hadn't forgotten, but no harm in asking again.

"No." It was a quadruple negative from all four adults present. Rachel sighed.

"She's too big for you, Rachel," Thomas said. "She fits me." That wasn't all there was to it, either, House sensed. As smooth as the horse looked under Thomas, House could also tell from watching her body language how much she noticed things. The old man gave her the steadiness that she needed, but House got the impression that this horse was not just an equine babysitter and could get excited and worried very easily with someone who didn't know how to handle her.

It really was a language. He'd never realized - or even considered - how much silent communication might go on between a horse and rider. With Ember, it was obvious.

"How many horses have you had?" he asked as Thomas led the mare back to the stable.

"Six," Thomas replied. He felt a surge of pride at his son's perception, sensing what was behind the question. Greg wasn't horse crazy, but he couldn't help noticing the finer details of any subject placed in front of him. "My first several were a lot less sensitive than this. There is a learning curve, and it just takes time and mileage."

Most things in life did, House thought. He looked down at Rachel, who still looked a little starry eyed, then at Abby on his other side, who wore her familiar expression of the almost 3-year-old version of analytical.

"She's a lot of fun," Thomas continued. "Yes, you do have to pay attention on her, but I think she's the smartest horse I've ever had."

"You had six horses?" Rachel repeated. Thomas, already high in her esteem, stepped off the mere earth and landed among the stars with that statement.

"Not all at once. Remember, Rachel, I'm old. I've had them over years and years."

She gave a happy sigh as he cross-tied Ember and started to unsaddle her. "I want six horses."

Cuddy groaned with more exasperation than tension at the moment, to her surprise. Ember turned her head slightly, the ears flicking, not alarm but just awareness, and Thomas glanced down the aisle to see what had caught her attention. "Look, Rachel," he said. "Here comes one of the barn cats."

"That's Chomper," said Marilyn. She knelt and twitched her fingers, and Chomper, a solid blue gray, ambled over to investigate. "You can pet him if you like, girls. But gently."

Rachel bent to pet the cat, as did Abby, and House watched their exploring hands, well trained by Belle, and then looked back up to the old man. Thomas was brushing his horse and watching them, not just the girls but his whole family, with a look of unashamed pure contentment.

House dropped his eyes again, unable to face the emotion, uncertain what to do with the silent invitation to share it. "We'd better get out of here fairly soon," he grumbled. "If we catch the noon traffic heading back to Princeton, it'll take us half the afternoon to even get to your place, and I'm hungry."