Thanks to all you lovely people out there who've read and reviewed etc. It gave me the kick up the bum I needed this week to get on with this chapter. Your thoughts are always welcome.

I know you guys have got a lot of questions that you want answering about this fic and where I'm going with the characters. I promise I will get there hopefully with everything, but I don't want to force too much into each chapter so that things aren't revealed organically. I'm more of a tortoise than a hare. ;)

Still angst-ridden here, but a little progress…

Characters aren't mine.

"To disappointingly warm beer!" House declared with mock enthusiasm, clinking his half-empty beer bottle against Chase's in a makeshift toast and turning to regard the noisy throng of patrons surrounding them as they sat at the bar. Today was one of those days when he hated 99.9 percent of the population, but sitting at home alone after work had seemed equally unappealing, hence the impromptu phone call to his former protégé. Next to him he could feel a suspicious pair of eyes trying to analyse him.

"So what's this about?"

"It's a bar, Skippy," the older man answered sarcastically. "You drink enough alcohol to either forget your problems and/or to psych yourself up to sleep with someone you wouldn't even look at in the cold, harsh light of day… It's one of the foundations of this great nation, and the major cause of liver failure and unplanned pregnancies."

Thoughtfully he took a swig of his beer, as Chase continued to watch him for clues to explain why he'd been invited out for a drink by his former boss. Bumping into each other was one thing, but actively being asked to meet him was another. Years of working for him made him wary of everything House did: every action had a purpose.

"So why are you here?"

"I'm obviously hitting on you." House paused to take a further glug, and then glanced at him with amusement. "The more I drink, the shinier your hair gets. It's dazzling… As are your eyes."

Bemused, Chase began to peel the label off his own bottle and smirked.

"I guess you're drinking to forget then."

"Nope. This is sayonara!... I'm spreading my wings and leaving New Jersey in a couple of weeks after my parole officer signs me off. Thought I'd let you know."

"What about your job?"

House shrugged and drained his drink unceremoniously.

"There's plenty of burger joints out there looking for an old ex-con with a limp. I'll be fighting off the job offers."

Seeing the troubled look on Chase's face, he sighed and gestured for the barman to bring them two more beers, silently expecting the younger man to pay for them when they were brought, which he duly did under duress.

"Nothing to do with Cuddy moving back here then?" the diagnostician pressed, already knowing the answer.

For a long time House didn't answer, almost prompting him to repeat the question in case he hadn't heard over the general din in the bar. In reality he was just considering his options. Of course he could lie, play dumb about knowing she was back in Princeton, but that was a pointless exercise. He'd taught him too well to be conscious of when someone was playing fast and loose with the truth. What did it matter anyhow? He'd be out of there in a couple of weeks.

"Cuddy's a part of my past. I can't make a fresh start if there's a risk of bumping into her… Besides, she's got family here… I don't. There's no reason to stay."

As if deep in thought, Chase rubbed his chin like a Greek scholar, his fingers grazing over the stubble that was growing there, making House wonder if he was fully committed into turning into his own personal Mini Me.

"She was arguing with her sister in one of the relative rooms at the hospital today," he finally offered almost shyly, not entirely sure if this was something he should be divulging. "I heard your name mentioned."

Inwardly House cringed. Naturally she'd told her sister what had happened the day before, and had got it both barrels from Julia. He could practically hear her berating her older sibling for even bringing herself to sit and drink coffee with him, let alone telling him about the pregnancy. Just one more reason why he had to leave. He wasn't keen on facing the potential wrath of one of his victims if he stuck around, nor did he want to make things any more difficult for Cuddy by creating a divide between her and her family.

"I can't help it if the Cuddy women go wild for me," he jibed half-heartedly.

Ignoring the wise-crack, Chase swivelled on his stool to look at him directly.

"I'm guessing something happened between you then."

"You guessed right," he retorted coolly.

"Ok."

Sensing House was on the verge of telling him to mind his own business, the younger man didn't push any further. Instead he turned back around and kept quiet, draining the dregs of his first beer and moving onto the second. It was classic reverse psychology, a move that they were both aware of, but that was bound to work its magic in 3… 2… 1…

"She was pregnant," House blurted out. "When I ploughed my car into her house she was carrying my baby… How the fuck am I supposed to live with that?"

Rubbing a hand over his face, he closed his eyes and remembered rushing down an alley after he'd left Cuddy standing in that car park and rounded the corner out of her line of vision. It had been a miracle that he'd managed to stem the flow of vomit that long, he mused. He'd treated female victims of domestic violence, pregnant ones at that, and whilst he always tried to stay detached from his patient's predicaments, he'd secretly reserved a special type of disgust for the type of bully who'd lace into their partners when they were carrying a child. Any remaining illusions that what he'd done was simply out of a need to permanently sever the ties between them had evaporated. The thought of having become the thing he despised so much had literally made him sick to his stomach, and there was no getting around the fact he'd turned into that bully. More than that, he'd unwittingly turned into a version of his Father and that sickened him even more.

"Did she lose it?" he heard Chase ask cautiously.

Slowly he shook his head.

"No… Somewhere a few miles from here, there's a five year old boy who shares half my genes. Scary thought for humanity, huh?"

"And you're not going to do anything about that?"

"I told you," the older man responded. "I'm getting as far away from here as possible, thereby improving his chances in life exponentially… That'll be my greatest contribution, aside from the sperm I donated to create him."

Clearly taken aback by the revelation, Chase ran his hand through his hair and let the air filter out of his lungs. Even by House's unpredictable standards, this whole turn of events had come out of left field and shocked him. The man he'd worked with for nearly a decade being a parent seemed incongruous with who he was, and yet at the same time it kind of didn't. There was a bizarrely paternal undertone to the way he'd been dealt with over the years by the man slumped against the bar in front of him. Sure it was far, far from conventional, but he'd learnt far more about life from him than he had from his own Father.

"What if he wants to get in touch with you when he's older?"

"I'm fairly certain a quick retelling of the past will put paid to that." Sadly, he turned and regarded his former employee, the sorrow evident on his face. "The likelihood of me making it to his eighteenth birthday is pretty slim anyway. I already died once."

Rolling his eyes at the mention of House's 'death', he pressed on.

"My Dad was a jerk, but I can't imagine never having met him… I can't imagine living with knowing I had a child out there somewhere too."

"Knowing the antipodean man-whore that you are, you probably already do," House shot back brusquely, before acknowledging how uncalled for the deflection was and replying more appropriately. "You told me to draw a line and I did. It was the right thing to do."

"That was before I knew she'd had your kid."

"It's not my kid!"

His raised voice caused the couple sat next to them to turn and stare, which he swiftly saw off with a ruthless glower. Meanwhile, Chase wondered how much he'd really thought leaving through, and how much was really just a knee-jerk reaction to the insane circumstances of the last few days. God knows, it'd be enough to make the most stable of personalities lose track of what was up and what was down.

"Things have changed, House… I know you're doing this because you think it's the simplest answer to the problem, but whether you like it or not, you and Cuddy are always going to have a link. She's never going to be able to forget you, because every time she looks at her son she's going to be reminded of you… That's just a fact… This is going to eat at you too."

"I've made up my mind," he countered tersely. "I'm don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Bullshit!"

There was a force and certainty behind Chase's outburst that confused House. Working with him for a couple of days again had shown he'd developed a confidence in his abilities and opinions in the last few years that amused and pleased his former boss in equal measure.

"How is me not wanting to listen to you drone on about this bullshit?"

"You wanted someone to discuss this with. That's why you asked me to come for a drink."

"I invited you here to ask for your advice?" he sneered. "Why exactly would I do that?"

Leisurely Chase folded his arms across himself and regarded him knowingly.

"Because I'm the closest thing you have to a friend right now, and you need to know you're not making a mistake."

It wasn't a particularly smug or intentionally cruel statement, but it was tinged with the kind of self-assurance which signalled he knew he was right. The thing was, House pondered, he absolutely was. Ever since Cuddy had rather abruptly turned up in his life again, he'd longed for the sounding board Wilson had constantly offered him throughout their friendship. He always missed him anyway, but at this crossroads in his long, miserable existence the loss was especially acute. At least in Chase he had someone who knew him well enough not to sugar the pill, as far as giving out advice was concerned.

"The only reason I saw her again was because you brought me in on the case," he eventually said sombrely. "If her nephew hadn't got sick we wouldn't be sat here discussing this now."

The man in front of him frowned.

"She told you I brought you in on the case?" House nodded in response, and waited for an explanation. "She asked for you… I didn't want you stealing my thunder, but she insisted."

"Why would she lie?"

"I'm not really the person to ask."

Glancing down at the floor, House felt a twinge in his thigh and pressed his palm against where it ached automatically, the undulating movement as he massaged it helping him think.

"There's nothing that I can ever do that's going to make up for what I did."

"You'll regret it if you don't at least try." Chase lowered his voice to just above a whisper, before continuing. "Sometimes the only thing that keeps me going is knowing that every life I save tips the scales back a little bit more in my favour… Maybe I'm fighting a losing battle, or it's a convenient type of moral relativism, but it's better than running away… At least give Cuddy the opportunity to tell you to stay out of their lives once and for all."

"What am I supposed to do?... Just turn up at her house and scare the crap out of her?"

Unexpectedly, the younger man got to his feet and pulled his cell from his pocket, placing it on the bar and sliding it along the surface towards House.

"I'm going to the bathroom… If you go through my phone and find her number, it's nothing to do with me."

Promptly Chase turned his back on him and zig-zagged his way past the other people in the bar, leaving House staring at the phone in front of him like it was a hand grenade about to go off.

This was the seventh time that day House had found himself staring at Cuddy's number on the display of his cell, and it was only lunchtime. On purpose he'd chosen to take his break outside and had made his way to the back of the library, perching himself on a wall near the fire exit where he knew he'd be afforded some privacy. The night before he'd nearly pushed Chase's phone away. He'd willed himself to do so, but he couldn't. The thought of hearing her voice again was something he couldn't turn down outright: now that that door had been left open to him, ignoring the tiny chink of light it offered was proving difficult. At the same time taking that first step was equally as problematic. There was every chance this could all go horribly wrong; that she'd accuse him of harassing her, or worse still, she'd let him back into her life to try to build some sort of relationship with her son, and he'd screw things up again.

Pulling his jacket tightly around him as the breeze picked up, he took a deep breath and bit the bullet, pressing the call button and holding it to his ear as it rang. Within a few seconds he heard a click and then a familiar voice.

"Hello?" With his mouth suddenly dry, he felt as if he'd been struck dumb. Again she offered a greeting and waited.

"It's me," he finally managed, gulping when he heard the unsurprised sigh at the other end. "Don't hang up."

"Where did you get my number?" she asked coolly.

"I took Chase's phone and got it… He doesn't know I'm calling you." It wasn't exactly a lie. He was just being economical with the truth. There was little point in getting someone else in trouble if she started throwing accusations.

"You made it perfectly clear how you felt the other day, House… I don't understand why you're calling."

Trying to find the appropriate words, he craned his head back against the metal bar behind him, and looked up at the clear blue sky. It seemed strangely calm in comparison with the conflicting emotions welling inside him, but then he was used to feeling like a fish out of water in every environment. He always had.

"I need to know why you lied about asking Chase to bring me in on the case."

"I didn't want there to be any confusion," Cuddy finally offered after a hesitant pause. "You're still the best doctor I know, and I wanted the best for my nephew."

"So why invite me for coffee?... Why tell me about him when you could have just shook my hand and I'd have walked away?"

"You did walk away!" she retorted indignantly.

"I was in shock!... Nothing made sense. It still doesn't… Why tell me now? Why at all?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly, meandering from the kitchen where she'd taken the call and into living room where she flopped down onto her sofa. "I spent years hating you. Years turning you into this junkie maniac in my head, reasoning that all the good I saw in you was just a figment of my imagination… The man I thought I knew was reckless, but there was no way he could go that far." She stopped for a moment and heard his rhythmic breathing at the end of the line, a sign that he was listening intently; something he used to do so rarely. Something they both used to do so rarely. "And then I saw you again and you seemed so normal… Not only that you saved Joe's life, refused to take my money and you were kind about me losing Jonathan. You weren't even using anymore… I didn't plan it, House. When you asked about him I just couldn't bring myself to keep it from you any longer."

Processing what she'd said, House couldn't help but appreciate her candidness. There were still so many questions though.

"Does he know I exist?"

"Yes," she responded quietly. "I didn't meet Jonathan until after he was born, so it was pointless pretending he was his biological father. Rachel would have told him."

"Do they know what happened?"

Without having to ask, she knew it was an inference to the crash and everything that led up to it. This was altogether more difficult territory.

"Most of it," she admitted, thinking back to the day she and her husband had sat them down and decided to answer their increasingly persistent question less than a year ago. "They both know why we went to New York. I didn't want them hearing it from someone else."

Thoroughly ashamed, House was at a loss what to say, eventually settling on the obvious question.

"What do you want me to do?"

"What do you mean?" Cuddy shot back in confusion.

"I can leave Jersey soon. If that's what you need me to do, I'll delete your number and I won't try getting in touch again."

"I'm not going to force you out of the area, House… You've got just as much right to live here as me."

"It's not about you forcing me out," he clarified, kicking out at the wall adjacent to where he was sat and scuffing the toe of his sneaker in the process. "If you're not comfortable with me living this close to you, I'm prepared to go. You won't have to worry about seeing me again."

Genuinely taken aback by the offer, she didn't know what to say. He'd told her the only reason he'd ended up with a semi-decent job was because someone had taken pity on him. What realistically did the future hold for him if he didn't have that lifeline? Moreover, now that he'd come back into her life was she entirely sure if she wanted him out of it again? Perhaps that wasn't the issue anyway. Maybe he was the one who wanted out.

"Is that what you want?"

In response she heard him take a sharp breath, as if he was bracing himself.

"I want to see my son, Cuddy, but that's not my decision to make."

After his outburst outside the diner where he'd told her he was "her kid", House claiming some sort of ownership of their child didn't go unnoticed. She didn't know whether to be scared or relieved.

"And what if I let you and you hurt him like you hurt me?" she probed, the emotion in her voice making her words seem clipped.

"If you really think I'm capable of hurting him, you shouldn't let me anywhere near him."

It was hardly surprising that she worried it would be a huge risk, House thought to himself as he waited for her to reply. It was, for everybody involved, but especially for her. She'd be putting her entire family on the line if he screwed up again.

"I swear, if you fuck this up, you'd better expect a slow, painful death."

"You've only been talking to me again for a few days, and already the bondage threats," he cracked, characteristically reacting to the tension with a joke.

"I'm serious, House, Rachel and Gabriel are the most important things in my life…"

"Is that his name?" he interrupted. "Gabriel?"

Bemused that they'd somehow managed to have a conversation about their son without mentioning his name before now, Cuddy couldn't help but smile at his uninhibited inquisitiveness.

"I named him after my Dad."

"Could you get anymore Jewish?" he threw back jovially, making her laugh out loud in spite of herself.

"My Mom tried to convince me to call him Abraham after I found out I was having a boy, so the answer to that question is a definitive yes."

"Converts are always the biggest zealots… Maybe if you'd plumped for Moses you'd be making a fortune out of him by now when he parted the water in paddling pools at children's parties."

"Funnily enough turning my son into circus act is up there in my top ten list of things to do," she quipped drolly, drawing a snort from her ex. As surreal as this whole thing was, they were both starting to loosen up and enjoy themselves, falling into their old habit of bantering with one another as if it was the most natural thing in the World. "He's beautiful, House."

"Of course he is! I'm his father… His Mom's not exactly hideous either."

Mulling over his back-handed compliment, Cuddy bit her lip and decided to ignore it. Now wasn't the time to even consider why she'd enjoyed hearing it so much. She had more pressing matters in hand.

"He reminds me so much of you when I first met you… He's handsome, funny and so smart, but he struggles with people he doesn't know… This isn't going to be easy, House. You've got to earn my trust and his too."

"I know."

It was a huge responsibility, but turning his back on it didn't seem like an option now, even if he'd wanted to. Having a child could either be the anchor that grounded him, or the one that sunk him. In that moment he was determined to make it the former. He hadn't realised just how much he'd wanted it before, but after years out in metaphorical wilderness, in prison and then back in Princeton living a second-rate facsimile of his old life, he'd longed for a real place and purpose in the World, and this was his chance. As unlikely as it seemed just a short time ago, he could actually identify himself as somebody's Dad.

"I'm not sure you do."

"I do," he asserted sincerely. "I know what's at stake. I also know how crap hurting someone I care about feels… That's not going to happen again."

"In that case, are you free on Friday evening?" she quizzed, making raise his eyebrow in curiosity. There was a breeziness in her tone that most people would mistake for a sense of ease. He knew her better than that, and to him it was obvious she was just as nervous as he was. She was offering the invite before she changed her mind.

"I'm pretty sure I can make myself free."

"Good!" she said chirpily. "You can come for dinner and meet your son."

Gleefully House swung his legs out in front of him like an overgrown schoolboy, as his face broke into a broad grin.

"I'd like that a lot."