A/N-Thanks to everyone who has favorited or followed this story, it's such an honor as a writer to have people enjoy your work! Thanks to all of the reviewers since the last chapter: JLCH, 6cbrilhante, IHeartHouseCuddy, Boo's House, Truth, Bakerstreet Blues, TheHouseWitch, OldSFfan, LapizSilkwood, housebound, ClareBear14, Alex, dmarchl21, Abby, Suzieqlondon, HuddyGirl, MsStevieCooper, huddyholic, LoveMyHouse, Josam, IWuvHouse, Alltheloveintheworld, LiaHuddy and Jane Q. Doe.

Pretty long chapter. This one's heavy on flashback, but I'll be back on Monday to move the story along. Have a wonderful weekend everyone!

*The end of this chapter includes adult content.


After Frank left, House went to find the kids in Kate's office. Jack was sitting on the edge of Kate's desk, looking as if he was on the verge of tears. Ava was ranting angrily in the corner next to the desk, almost screaming at Kate, who was situated between two kids in the midst of a full on meltdown. House sat down next to Kate's desk and waited. When Ava was mid-rant, he usually let her finish, as long as she was in a safe place and no one was going to get hurt. He and Cuddy agreed years earlier that when the girl needed to vent her frustration, it was best to let her do that, rather than try to force her to contain her feelings. These weren't tantrums thrown to get her way, they were expressions of emotions too heavy to keep inside. Such outbursts became increasingly rare. As she grew, they were able to give her outlets for her more overwhelming feelings: exercise, music, sometimes even just talking calmly, but the arrival of Frank and Mike Callahan was disconcerting for the entire family.

Kate sat, patiently listening, one arm comfortingly around Jack, her eyes on Ava. The girl looked at House, and he could see the anger as plainly as he could see her standing in front of him. "Dad," she barked, moving to the front of him. He looked at her, calmly, and waited for her to speak, "You cannot let this guy do this. What if something goes wrong? What if something gets infected? I've read the consent forms."

House shook his head and said, "Don't read those. They're just a bunch of crap we have to get people to sign so we won't get sued."

"What if they take too much blood and you run out?" Jack asked, his bottom lip quivering.

"That would be bad, but they don't do that. They know how much to take, but it doesn't matter. Donors and recipients, in this case, me and the patient, have to have the same kind of blood. In the case of marrow or stem cells, it has to be very, very, very close to exactly the same. Mine isn't like his at all. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't."

Ava looked relieved and then said, "I still hate Frank."

House shrugged, "OK. I don't hate him."

"He's a jerk. And he's selfish," Ava said angrily.

"He should have been upfront about his motivations."

"Is Mom alone with him?" Ava asked, her eyes flashing with momentary excitement.

House smirked, "Your mom's doing some research. She had an idea. Frank's with his grandson."

"Did mom discuss things with him?" Ava asked, still trying to hide a grin. She said 'discuss' in the same way Cuddy said it when she was frustrated and told a member of her family that something would have to be talked about later.

He smiled at his child's enthusiasm for the thought, and how well she knew Cuddy. "I think your mom shared her feelings on the situation with him."

Ava looked relieved, but Jack still looked nervous. House gestured for the boy, and Jack approached nervously. "I'm not going anywhere," House said evenly. "There is nothing to worry about. No one's taking too much blood, even if I did donate, they only take a little. It's not exsanguination."

"What's that?" Jack asked.

"When they suck every last drop of blood out of your body until you're dead," Ava answered knowingly.

House approved until Ava asked, "Wait, so do they want to see if Jack's a match? Are they going to come after him?"

Jack's eyes grew instantly huge. "Wait, wait, wait," House said, trying to regain control of the situation and wishing that Cuddy, often the voice of reason, was with him and not researching elsewhere. "Jack's fine. No one's coming after Jack."

"Are you sure?" Ava asked.

"Yes!" House answered unwaveringly. "You think there are random bands of plasma and body part collectors roaming freely? What in the hell have you been reading? Besides the consent form?"

Ava shrugged. "Have you heard about the albinos being targeted for…"

"Stop," House said, trying to stop her before Jack never slept again. "There's plenty of other shit to read. Useful stuff, interesting stuff…stuff that will not prompt Jack to beg to sleep in our room every night for a month."

"You said shit," Ava accused playfully.

"Well, now you said it too," House retorted.

Jack seemed really nervous. "What's an albino?"

"Everybody shut up," Kate said calmly. "This is so far out of hand. This isn't some creepy horror movie thing, it's a donation that saves people who are going to die. The donor doesn't die. If I matched, I would do it. I'm on the registry. I donate blood all of the time, it's not that much different. They take little bits of blood or marrow, the donor goes home, sometimes they feel a little sick or achy for a few days. That's it. No one's going to kill your dad, or Jack, or anyone. OK?"

"Why'd Frank hide it if it isn't scary?" Jack asked suspiciously.

"Because Frank's a selfish coward," Kate said. "Trust me, I'm sure your mom did a great job of informing him of that. But he's not some sort of vampire. He's just a guyand like I already saida selfish coward…and a deadbeat."

Ava and Jack seemed appeased, and amused at Kate's use of words.

"I don't know how in the world you consistently get into conversations with your children that involve things like exsanguination," Kate complained.

House said, petulantly, "They started it," and listened while Jack finally started to giggle again.

House took Jack and Ava over to his office, where they found Cuddy, chatting on House's phone.

"Your impersonation of me needs work," he told Cuddy when she hung up.

She pushed the chair back, folded her hands low on her belly and crossed her ankles on top of his desk before tipping her head back and feigning sleep. The kids were both laughing and looking back and forth between their parents. They were quick to be impacted by negativity around them, but both were always remarkably resilient once they felt their concerns were addressed and they were safe again.

Cuddy sat up and said to House, "There's an interesting trial going on, they're looking for participants. I think we have to convince them that he's a little healthier than he is, but…we can probably do that. I also have a team of students working on the donor search."

"You aren't suggesting that we fabricate results?" House said, with mock horror.

Cuddy smirked, "I would never do that, but if they happen to misunderstand our results, that's not my fault."

The kids were preoccupied with toys for a few moments, when House said, "They were pretty freaked. I think they're picturing this patient like some sort of evil, blood-sucking monster."

"He's really nice," Cuddy said, "We could introduce them. I mean, with opportunistic infection, they're more of a risk to him than he is to them, so we should get his permission first."

"OK," House conceded.

"Hey," Cuddy began, "Your mother…are we going to warn her…or Frank?"

House looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "I didn't get a lot of free info from them, why should they get it from me?"

Cuddy nodded, "I'm so very good with that."

She left, spoke to Mike, and got his permission to introduce him to his small cousins. Mike, a proud and doting uncle when at home, was happy to have some life breathed into his sterile-feeling room. House brought Ava and Jack up to the room, and when they arrived, they found Frank standing by the door, watching his grandson. Mike had a guitar that he brought from home to help him pass time in the hospital. Jack and Ava suddenly seemed very relaxed when they realized that the patient was just a man who was sick. Mike seemed to really smile freely for the first time since he arrived.

Mike was easygoing, friendly, and his personality somehow managed to show through the gaunt pallor of his illness. Regardless of the family's feelings on Frank, Mike was almost instantly liked, particularly by the kids. House and Cuddy both lacked trust for the patient though, after all, Mike hid his diagnosis every bit as much as Frank did.

After the kids were done visiting for an hour, House took Frank aside. "Want to run a DNA test."

"On Mike?" Frank asked.

"No," House said, irritated by the stupidity of the question, "On you. Want to make sure you're the real sperm donor."

Frank looked surprised, "I am your father…whether you like me or not."

"You want help for your grandson 'at any cost,' I'm willing to give help, but I've been fooled before…this time, I want proof."

Frank nodded.

House went to his office so the kids could play while tests were run. He sat in the corner of the room, playing with admissions ID bracelets and pondering treatment options while Jack and Ava entertained themselves.


**-Clinic's opening week-**

The evening of the attempted attack on Cuddy, the couple kept their date. House was brooding and concerned, Cuddy still appeared to be collected and relatively unaffected. She practically dragged him down to the bungalow they often shared by the waterfront for their date night. He distracted them with drinks at a small pub and a circuitous path down to the water. "What's going on?" Cuddy asked when they finally made it to the bungalow.

She was standing on the first step, he was still standing in the sand. "Nothing's going on."

"Not a single comment about this dress…all night."

"You think I'm suddenly into fashion?"

"I think you're into clothes that highlight the features of my body that you like. Whether or not you like the dress…you usually like how I look in things like this."

"Fine. It's cute," he conceded disinterestedly.

"Cute?"

"Flattering."

"Flattering?"

"What do you want from me? What do you want me to say? Just tell me, and I'll say it."

"I have to feed you the compliments I want to hear suddenly?" she scoffed.

"I'm tired. Let's just sit down here a few minutes and then head home, get some sleep."

"You must be kidding. Seriously, you must be kidding!"

"I'm not kidding. It was a long day."

"Don't do this," she sighed, frustrated.

"Do what?" he asked with irritation.

"Please," she said, the confrontation out of her voice, "Tell me why you're acting weird."

"I'm not acting weird. I'm not acting anything."

"You think I'm weak?" she asked, her eyes sad, but her face trying to appear proud.

"That's completely insane."

"Is it?"

"Yes…it is. I don't think you're weak and I'm not mad."

Cuddy thought about a protest, but just sighed, "Fine."

House looked at the water for a moment and then said, bitterly, "I'm not mad."

"You're acting mad!"

"I'm not fucking mad!" he shouted, right in her face.

Cuddy pulled her head back from him, blinking. "Clearly."

"I'm not mad, Cuddy…I'm horrified."

"I horrify you?"

"Stop. That is not what I meant and you know it," he warned. His voice became impassioned, as he explained, "It's fucking terrifying. You want what happened to not matter to me? You want it to not bother me? Is that what you're looking for from me?"

"No."

"Goodbecause I will do almost anything for you. Almost anything you askbut I cannot do that for you. I will not pretend like it doesn't matter. I cannot pretend like it didn't fuck me up. I will never pretend like I don't carenot when it comes to you."

"Nothing. Happened."

"Something very, very bad could have happened. Something very bad was minutes away from happening. Today…I almost didn't go check on you. I almost sat at my fucking desk, happy as hell because you weren't making me work. I almost ignored every fucking instinct in my body, and if I would have ignored it, we'd probably be somewhere very different tonight…having a very different conversation."

"But you didn't ignore your instincts."

"No," he sighed, "I didn't."

"And you showed up…like a fucking hero with guns drawn," she said, bragging and grabbing his forearm. "I hated that stupid fucking gun…until today."

After the attack, there was adrenaline, police, kids, preparations, there were tons of activities that required her attention and she never felt the fear, anger, or concern. Standing at the beach, she looked as cool and poised as she always did, whether presenting an idea before the hospital board or welcoming a new group of students to the Center.

House rasped, "You try so hard to protect the rest of us…I almost failed you when you needed me."

"That's bullshit," she mumbled. "Nothing happened, really. I'm fine. Nothing. Happened."

He nodded toward the door, directing them inside. She paced around the room.

"I hated the way they looked at you," he said as he shut the door and leaned against the wall. "This isn't jealousy, I can handle guys looking. Hell, sometimes, I like it, because, at the end of the day, you are mine. Every single night I'm the one who's there next to you, and I'm there because you want me to be. But…watching them."

"They were fucking creepspredators."

House grimaced, "Did I ever…make you feel like that?"

Her eyes snapped to his face, "Like what?"

"I spent a lot of years…watching you…wanting you…"

"You never made me feel like that. Ever."

He nodded quickly, trying to dismiss the line of conversation.

"How could you even consider yourself to be like them?" she asked incredulously.

"I just needed to know," he responded distantly.

"I…love the way you look at me. I always have. Sometimes I've wondered how much of my confidence is related to how I actually look, and how much is related to the way you make me feel that I look," she chuckled softly. "Seriously, you…make me feel amazing…wanted…desired."

"Objectified!" he argued.

"Not objectified. Appreciated…admired," she answered. "The difference isyou'd never hurt me. They wouldn't care if they did. They're selfish. Hell, they probably wanted to hurt me…or some woman, I don't think it would matter which one. You aren't about causing me pain…you…repeatedly prove how much you love to make me feel good. What do you think our orgasm ratio is…overall…three to one?"

He almost smiled.

"Please don't stop ogling me," she said in a pleading voice, but with a smile on her lips. "Our mutual desire isn't ugly or hurtful. The fact that we express ourselves well in this way…that we enjoy expressing ourselves through sex and admiration…face it, sometimes it's more like…veneration. It isn't violent…or cruel. It's beautiful…and hot."

He smirked, briefly, still a bit uncertain. "If anything, you're the one who's abused sexually by me," she said loudly, finally causing him to laugh just a bit. "Please," she asked, "Let's not let this ruin the way things are between us. Don't feel like you should have been there sooner, and don't doubt that you would have come. Because you would come…every time. Don't feel bad for watching me, for wanting me…because it's mutual…consensual…and fine…call me shallow or vain…I still love it. It still makes me feel good. I still…provoke it from you."

She walked over to the space in front of him. "It was so amazingthe way you showed up like that," she said solemnly.

"Doesn't matter," he said, still uncomfortable with compliments, "You would have worked it out. I just expedited things."

She moved even closer to him, he stood, leaning against the wall, looking away. "No, I needed you. And you showed up…out of nowhere."

She leaned in close to him and whispered, her voice full of concern, "Please tell me you still want me."

"Of course I want you," he said, his eyes focusing on her. "That…wouldn't change how I feel…any of the ways I feel."

Reaching behind herself slowly, Cuddy arched her back as she unzipped her dress, wriggling it down off of her shoulders and allowing it to drift down her body. It slipped, slowly at first, from her shoulders, but gained momentum and eventually rushed to the ground. His eyes slowly found her ankles, still partially hidden in cascades of fabric. She waited, he could see she was nervous, worried that perhaps something really did change. In a way, he supposed, it did, but not in the way she feared.

His eyes slowly drifted up to her knees and across her thighs, to the tiny dark blue panties she was still wearing. His gaze jumped upwards to her eyes and noticed the nervous smile on her face. She stepped forward, walking over the dress on the floor and coming closer to him, and he began to feel his body's pull toward her. His mind wanted her too, perhaps most of all, but he was still hesitant.

When she was close, her fingers touched his shoulders, and slid to his neck, eventually pulling him toward her for a delicate kiss of faint brushes of lips and exchange of breath. She ran the backs of her fingers down his chest to his abdomen, confirming his presence, wanting to use her touch to ensure that the man she wanted was the man in front of her.

Her hip pressed into his and she leaned closer, her fingers finally grabbing his shirt and jerking him roughly down to her. "I want you so badly, I need to have you," she whispered almost desperately.

He was resigned, content to allow her to take what she needed, to set the pace, to do only the things she was comfortable doing. He still expected her to stop at any moment, but relinquished the control to her. She unbuttoned his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin, pressing her lace covered breasts into his torso. Her knee wedged between his, increasing the contact and allowing her hip to press enticingly into his pelvis. His body reacted because his body always reacted to her. He couldn't rid himself of the feeling that he didn't want her to feel used.

Her hands smoothed across his stomach, near-tickling his skin and feeling his muscles jump slightly under her touch. She leaned into him to feel his arousal intensifying, and she felt that satisfaction, she always wanted to turn him on, part of her always worried he'd grow tired of her. Her hand moved to the bulge in his jeans, her fingers outlining his erection, pushing with greater pressure against him and listening as he stifled a moan. She opened his jeans, while he kicked off his shoes and when he was freed of his clothing, she pressed her body back against his to feel the strength of his arousal against her stomach. She instantly wanted him in her, fucking her, she wanted to come clinging to him, hard, feeling the buildup and release, and yet, she wanted so much more.

She stooped down, her hands on his hips, pushing him back against the wall while she ran her tongue slowly along his sex. There was no denying his need for her anymore. Her lips wrapped around him, alternating between the tip, and his length. As wonderful as her attention felt, he couldn't distract himself entirely from his concern for her. She sensed his sudden concern and stood, whispering against him, "What do you want to do?"

"I just want to feel you."

"I'mright here. I'm yours," she offered, standing back and offering herself to him while she removed the final remnants of her clothing.

He led her to the bed, and pulled her on top of him, trying still to give her the control of the situation. She was sitting on him, straddling him, and leaned forward over him, her breasts in his face, and he found his fingers softly drifting to her sides, and then up to her breasts, directing one to his mouth where he sucked and licked with near reverence.

His touches and attentions were still soft, gentle, allowing her dominance, but that night, she really didn't want dominance over their lovemaking. She wanted him to take her, to show her how he felt, how much he wanted her, to remind her that these touches were pleasurable, to remind her that he was still the only man that would be under her, in her, surrounding her.

"What's next?" she asked insistently.

"I want to taste you," he answered.

"I'm still hereand I'm still yours," she insisted, and found him still cautious. "I want you to get me off, I want to feel your mouth on me, your tongue licking me and in me…please."

Her plea was more than desire and physical ache. At that moment, he realized what she needed from him, and how badly. He easily lifted her over his torso, his lips meeting her sex insistently, his tongue quickly parting her already wet folds. Her back arched with pleasure as she pressed herself into him. His hands covered her thighs, finding her ass eventually and palming her roughly. He listened for cues, tones, hints that maybe this wasn't what she wanted, but all he found was verification for his actions.

From that position, his hands were free to roam about her body, which they did at first, eventually settling on her hips, rocking them at the pace he wanted, and finally pinning her against him while he licked her lovingly but unrelentingly to her first orgasm. She slid down his body, bringing her still quivering sex closer so she could take him inside her, when he stopped her. "I want you so badly," he said calmly.

Her palms surrounded his erection and he groaned when her hands started to pump him slowly, her hands moving together to surround as much of him as she could. "You've always made me want you," he groaned. "I will always want you."

She moved again to take him inside of her and he stopped her. "We're doing what I want to do, right?" he asked.

He rolled her off of him, and settled over her, his hips between her thighs, his stomach pressing against her sex while she pulsed her hips up toward him. She wound her fingers around his arm, finding his hand, eventually locking fingers with his, and she pulled his hand above her head, so that he was pinning her hand against the bed. Her chest was rising and falling more rapidly, her body desperate for both for escalation and release. He found her other hand, taking her lead, and brought it up over her head, so that he was pinning both of her hands beneath one of his. "Please fuck me," she asked, her eyes as pleading as her voice. "I want to feel you, I want to feel that it's you."

"It's me," he grumbled, both aroused and excited that she still repeatedly chose him in a way so adamant that it neared desperation.

Her legs wrapped around him encouragingly, as his body easily found her warmth without guidance, and he pushed with almost impossible restraint into her. Her head was tipped back as she savored the steady and welcomed invasion. After all of their time together, she still loved his size, the thick insistence of him filling her, that slight pain while she adapted to him. She could feel the progression of him into her, and the halt and rock of their bodies when he couldn't progress any further. Her sex was already twitching in near orgasm, her body begging on her behalf to continue.

She wondered if he believed that he was all she wanted, that she craved the familiarity of him, that she hoped with every fiber of her being that he would be the last man she'd ever take inside of her. She craved the familiarity, the sensation that was uniquely him near her, against her, everywhere.

He still had her hands pinned over her head, but her body moved in waves from her shoulder to her hips to meet his, to take him in her, and he found the comforting feeling of being almost entirely swallowed by her, drawn into her body. Their hips rocked decisively, not rapidly but firmly. With her hands pinned by him, she was able to allow the surrender she so desperately needed, to turn herself over to him, to the one person she trusted to turn her entire being over to without hesitation.

She knew, as well as he did, that ultimately, even in that instance, she had plenty of sovereignty over her person. She chose her partner, and she could have stopped the entire encounter with the smallest word or gesture.

They were moving together, gasping and panting as they writhed a bit more, their pace increasing almost involuntarily. "Stop worrying…just let go," she asked.

It was as if something in that moment shifted in him, she could feel the abandonment of his concerns. When he picked up his pace and force, she met him encouragingly, wanting him to captivate her needs entirely, to both take and give in a place where trust existed in its fullest capacity. He pummeled into her, their bodies joining with enough voraciousness to leave them both with aches the next day, a way that was all-encompassing, complete, total, so distinctly them.

It took them too much of their lifetimes to turn themselves over to each other, but once they did, it was fully. When Cuddy's voice turned lower, more raspy, obviously closer to the edge, House's body responded to every cue. They came together within seconds, both trying to continue until their bodies could no longer comply. She pulled him up to her, settling back properly into the bed, and pulling his body half on hers, so she could still breathe, and yet keep him protectively over her. His leg and his arm were draped over her, pulling her to him tightly. Her breath slowed steadily, as satisfied sighs and groans eventually turned to a few tears. He didn't overreact, he stayed steadily against her, reassuringly, allowing the feelings that were lingering from her earlier ordeal to spill out.

Finally, lying sated next to him, the reality of what could have been in the clinic that day rushed at her. She was physically unharmed from the threat, but her consciousness allowed her to feel the fears of what could have been. She whispered to him, "I know you don't believe me…but I've never felt as protected and safe as I do with you."

He nodded and kissed her head, knowing, in his mind, that he felt safer with her than he ever had with anyone else in his life.


When Cuddy walked into the office, she went to House's desk. She whispered, "Are you sure you want to do this? You owe them nothing. We could ship both Callahan's to a treatment facility elsewhere by tomorrow…where you wouldn't have to deal with them."

House said, softly, "I don't know what to do about this yet. I'm not good at fake family time, or playing getting to know you. I am good at fixing people. People are confusing…curing people makes sense."

"That's what you need to do?"

"Right now, that's what I need to do."

"OK," she answered without hesitation. "Thenhere's the trial that looked most promising…and an alternative trial that's a bit newer."

She placed printed sheets of information in front of him. He looked them over for a moment, and then looked up at her face. He could see, she didn't want to do this, she wanted nothing more to do with either Mike or Frank Callahan. It was his choice, it was what he needed. He nodded, "Thanks, I'll look over these tonight, tomorrow we'll present the options."

She nodded and began to walk away and he mumbled hoarsely, "Cuddy?"

When she turned back to him, she noticed that he was looking her over, meeting her gaze and offering a smile filled with admiration. After he finished his assessment of her, he whispered low enough so only she could hear, "You are so fucking sexy."

She smiled flirtatiously, raising an eyebrow, "You're looking pretty good over there, too."