Disclaimer: I don't want them, but they're not mine anyway.

A/N: I want to thank everyone for their amazing reviews to the first chapter of the story. Your support and encouragement really influenced my decision to continue. I have decided to turn this story into a three-shot. The third (and final) chapter will by posted by the earliest next week (i.e. the week of July 5th).

A/N: Thank you to Pandorama for her expert beta skills and making this not suck.

Cuddy thinks she must have dozed off, because the next thing she knows, she is being jerked awake by a rap at her window. Opening her eyes, she sees Wilson standing there, Rachel at his side. She is unpleasantly, and not entirely, surprised to see that there are tear streaks on Rachel's face and her eyes are still glimmering. Rachel sniffles again and wipes her running nose with her sleeve.

Cuddy immediately unlocks the door for them, and Rachel and Wilson both climb into the backseat. She glances at the clock as the car's engine turns on. The visit lasted just over half an hour. Counting transportation time to walk to the room, Cuddy suspects they actually saw House for ten minutes at most.

A glance in the rearview window shows her that Rachel has drawn her legs into her chest and is turned away from Wilson, looking out the window at the passing scenery as Cuddy drives away from the institution. Cuddy knows better than to ask what happened, since Rachel is clearly in one of her "I don't want to talk about it" modes, but all the same, Cuddy finds herself angry with House that he could have hurt her daughter this way. She bites her tongue, longing to interrogate Wilson about what House had done to make her daughter so unhappy, but knowing that this is a conversation that would best be left for when Rachel is out of earshot.

"Would you like to come to my place?" Wilson offers suddenly. "Maybe have a cup of coffee?" He adds, "For old time's sake" but Cuddy is able to translate that into "So I can tell you what happened."

"Rachel?" Cuddy asks. Her daughter says nothing. "Sure," Cuddy answers. "That sounds good."

"I'm tired," Rachel whines. Cuddy knows that really means "I want to go back to the hotel and be left alone."

"You can take a nap in my room," Wilson says. "It has a door," he adds pointedly in an undertone. Louder, he says to Cuddy, "Take your next left."

Cuddy follows his directions, and soon finds herself outside a nice-looking apartment complex. She parks the car and gets out immediately, stretching her cramped legs. She waits for Rachel to get out, but after a minute, she opens the door for her daughter and coaxes her out of the car. When Cuddy tries to hug her, Rachel pushes her away moodily.

Wilson, who has the tact to pretend not to notice Rachel pushing away her mother, leads them inside his small, but comfortable-looking apartment. Rachel immediately makes a beeline for the couch and plops herself down, looking thoroughly miserable. Wilson drops the keys on the counter and goes into the kitchen to start the coffee pot. Cuddy walks over to Rachel and sits down on the couch, close enough to touch her, but still far away enough to give her space if she still wants to be left alone.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Cuddy asks gently.

Rachel shakes her head and draws her knees into her chest again.

"I'm sorry, honey," Cuddy sighs.

"Hey, Rachel," Wilson says, coming over to them. "Would you like me to show you my room? I have some photographs you might like."

Cuddy internally groans, knowing the photographs are no doubt from some charity event or conference she had been at years ago. The prospect of seeing photographs seems to cheer Rachel up slightly, and she allows Wilson to lead her away from the couch. While Cuddy waits for him to come back, she entertains herself by looking around Wilson's living room. It feels both familiar and jarringly different. The books and journals lining his shelves are the same, but the view outside the window is no Princeton.

Ten minutes later, Wilson reemerges from the room and closes the door carefully behind him. Cuddy looks at him questioningly, and he says, "She's looking at old conference photos. She thinks you looked much prettier back then," he adds, a small smirk playing on his face. Wilson goes back to the kitchen to tend to the coffee. Cuddy follows him.

"So…what happened?" she asks, unable to contain herself any longer.

Wilson sighs as he pours the water through the coffee strainers. "Nothing, really," he responds.

Cuddy frowns. "Then what's the problem?"

"No – you misunderstood me," Wilson says as he hands her a mug of steaming coffee. "It's not that he did something bad. He did nothing at all."

Somehow the thought of Gregory House doing nothing is more disturbing than if he had made sexual advances toward her daughter. It feels wrong, unnatural. "Is that, um, usual for him?"

"Yes," Wilson answers. Cuddy feels a twinge of unpleasantness. "He was just lifeless."

Cuddy bites her lip. "Is that why Rachel is upset? Was she scared?"

"I don't think so," Wilson replies slowly. "She seemed a little nervous going inside, but she was okay. When we got to the room, and she first saw him, I could tell it wasn't at all what she had expected. I don't know what she remembers about him, but he looks…different now."

"Different how?" Cuddy has to know.

"Well, thinner, for one thing," Wilson says. "And, um, he's in a wheelchair."

"A wheelchair?" she repeats.

"Yeah." Wilsons nods. "The car acci – crash – it damaged his other foot. It makes it hard for him to walk now. He's been confined to the chair for about two years."

Unwillingly, Cuddy imagines House's frustration over not being able to use either of his legs. She finds herself feeling sympathetic for him, and quickly tries to quash those feelings.

"So, Rachel walked into the room, and House…what? Did nothing?"

"He didn't even ask who she was," Wilson says quietly. "Didn't say hello to me either. He just kind of stared into space."

Cuddy shudders. "And Rachel?"

"She was very brave," he recounts. "She wasn't immediately deterred by his lack of recognition. She went up to him, stood right in front of where he was looking so he couldn't miss her, and said who she was, you know, that she was your daughter, and asked if House remembered her."

"Do you think he does?" Cuddy wonders.

"Well, he didn't say either way…" He sighs. "I doubt that he forgot her, but I don't know. I'm not sure how much damage the Vicodin did to his brain."

"It is damaged, then?" she clarifies.

"It's hard to tell. The doctors think so, but…most of the time House seems pretty normal. This is the first time I've seen him like this," Wilson adds bitterly.

Cuddy considers this as she drinks more of the coffee. "I knew this was a bad idea." She sighs and sets the mug down on the counter. "When she first told me this was what she wanted to do for her birthday, I couldn't believe she even remembered him. Let alone would want to see him again."

Wilson looks hesitant as he says, "If you don't mind me asking…why did you let her do it?"

She shrugs and smiles weakly. "I don't know. Because I became sick of all the Florida sunshine and needed something depressing to brighten my day?" He doesn't laugh and she tries again. "Because part of me, a really small part that I wish didn't exist, hoped that he might be better?"

Wilson nods solemnly. "I don't know if he's ever going to be better."

Cuddy chooses not to answer this, knowing in her heart that Wilson is right, but wishing that she didn't feel like giving almost anything to make it untrue. Instead she asks quietly, "Did he do it on purpose?"

Wilson sighs heavily. "Maybe."

"Why?" Cuddy doesn't manage to keep the bite of anger out of her voice. "He has no right to do that to her."

Wilson doesn't respond immediately, but when he does, his tone is hesitant again. "I – I know that you said you didn't want to see him. But I think maybe…maybe it would help if you did."

"Help who?"

"Well…" Wilson shifts uncomfortably. "House, maybe. And, um, Rachel, if she wants to go back."

"Mom?"

Both adults turn toward Rachel's voice. She is standing outside Wilson's room, her arms crossed protectively across her chest. Cuddy is relieved to see that her daughter's eyes are dry.

"Hi," Cuddy says, smiling at Rachel. "Come here."

Rachel walks over and hugs Cuddy tightly, burying her head in Cuddy's stomach. Wilson catches Cuddy's eye and she knows what she needs to do. She cannot believe she is saying this, but she reminds herself that she is doing it for Rachel, that they are here because of Rachel, and she is not going to let her own feelings about House stand in the way of her daughter making peace with her childhood friend.

Before Cuddy can speak, Rachel asks, "Can we go back?"

"To Miami?"

Rachel shakes her head. "Back to the – place. To House."

"Why?"

"I want him to remember me," Rachel says quietly.

Cuddy looks at Wilson again, and he nods knowingly.

"Yes," she replies. "And this time, I'm coming with you."

A/N: Please leave me a review if you're feeling so inclined, and check my author page for updates on my writing projects.