A/N: My thanks to Tockie16, bahahumbug, HouseLuvr, KristenJ350, Dr. Ally House, (and iyimgrace for just being awesome) as well as everyone who reads. This takes us up to and including Sairah Khan's first day of work. I made references! If you recognize it, it's obviously not mine.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

House kept staring at the television when a large, warm hand came to grip his shoulder. Wilson was standing over him, all... shiny-eyed and smiling. For once, House didn't feel like deflecting, or avoiding. It wasn't easy, by any stretch of the imagination, but he just didn't feel up to evasion that night. His train of thought was cut short.

"I knew you'd meet me halfway."

And for once, House didn't restrain his smile. He looked down at his feet again before clearing his throat.

"I... thank you."

"Anytime."

"Wilson..." A strange emotion colored his tone. "I..." he faltered again. The big, warm hand squeezed this time, and Wilson smiled again.

"Yeah."

To House's relief, Wilson sank back down on the armchair. Almost an hour passed. Nursing his fourth bourbon of the night, his mouth opened of its own accord.

"I met Alia Khan for the first time when my father was stationed in California, very briefly. It was just for two years, and I had no idea what he was doing there, but it was fun, in a different way than Egypt, or Japan, or Pakistan was. We spent six months in New York right before moving to the house we last lived in, the one you've been to. He was always on the base, and I would roam around the city, take trains all over the place, just have fun. Three of those six months were summer vacation, so the weather was perfect. I met Alia at one of the country clubs my father was invited to. We were the only two teenagers in the place, so we stayed in a corner of the room when everybody else was mingling. I think for those four, five hours, I was constantly in awe of this girl. I didn't see her after that, but we did write to each other. A lot." He half-laughed.

"No matter where I was, we kept in touch. Even though I was American, and a boy, and countless other things. The next time I saw her was when she was suddenly standing next to me in line at Nolan's..in Hopkins." He exhaled. "She was the first actual friend I had, forget best friend. We did everything together... she even transferred to Michigan for me, to her father's obvious... displeasure. And there she met Brian. Long story short, they dated, they fell in love, they got engaged. All of us moved to Arizona. We were interns in Mayo. Me, nephrology, Brian, psych, and Alia, peds. And he had knocked her up, which effectively ended her medical career. Alia wanted to stay home and take care of her kid, despite any of us saying anything. Including her new husband." He snorted this time, and there was an edge to it.

"Brian was an absentee boyfriend, absentee fiance, absentee husband. It only fits the pattern that he was an absentee father. Did you know he wasn't even there for the birth? He showed up the next day, claiming he was stuck somewhere, but Alia... Alia let Brian get away with murder. I was there, when she went into labor, and I was there for the birth. I almost had to deliver Sairah in the back of a supermarket. I was.. terrified." He was leaning back now, a slight smile on his face. "But I was there, and I sat behind her in the ambulance and supported her... and I got to cut the cord. Nobody cared what Brian had to say on the subject, but Sai... she is.. was, half-mine. I was the guy who would take over if anything happened, and I was her godfather. I taught her how to play the piano, how to ride her bike, hell, I bought the bike. I visited, more than any friend of the family ought to, because Sairah... was not like other kids. She did everything early, as you've probably figured out. She was holding her head up at two months, rolling over at three, talking at eight months, walking at nine... she was playing sonatas at four, and started composing at six. It took me a while, but she started jazz improvisations on her own.

He took a deep, fortifying breath.

"The problem came about fourteen years ago. Miraculously, Brian chose to be home that birthday, and Sairah had turned eleven, which were apparently the actual double digits, so naturally Alia had to throw a party. And naturally the house had to look as if Libby Lou threw up all over it. I don't have any idea what possessed him to ask, but he did. He knew Alia and I knew each other, before she met him. And Brian's foot... it might as well have been surgically implanted in his mouth." Pause. "He found out."

The pounding in his head accompanying the sudden reminiscing was alleviated with another drink.

"About?" Wilson finally asked.

"About me. And about Alia. About us, I should say."

"Were you two in.. a relationship?"

"I'd hardly call it a relationship. It was like me.. and.." His face twisted into an expression of distaste. "Cuddy. It was a lapse of judgement that resulted in a roll in the hay. Alia was my best, best friend. She was my family. As nice as it was to have her, it was equally nice for her to have me. To call me in a panic when Sai got the croup at three or the chicken pox at eight. God.." He exhaled and half-laughed. And tried to ignore in vain Wilson staring at him in slack-jawed amazement.

"Did you fight?"

House laughed again, a hollow sound that send chills racing up Wilson's spine.

"I guess. Brian found out about the roll in the hay. I didn't realize it was relevant. It was while we were still in Michigan. Juniors. Hell, I even remember the day, because Alia and Brian had fought on their six-month anniversary, and Brian broke up with her. And of course, ten minutes later, I get the phone call. And the floodgates." Another sigh. Another gulp.

"So I bring over a bottle of tequila, because Alia Khan never drank to enjoy the drink, she drank to get drunk. In the rare occasions when she felt that she needed to... escape."

"And you got drunk." He looked at Wilson, deciding to humor him with the details.

"No, no, not just drunk, Jimmy-boy. Shitfaced."

"Ah."

"Yeah. And giggling, and crying, and hiccuping, Alia tells me that Brian was jealous of me. That he wasn't privy to half the things I was. It's stupid, I know. I think I realized it then too, because we start laughing hysterically... and the next thing you know, I'm waking up next to my best friend on the living room carpet. Naked."

"How'd he find out?"

"Brian was a spineless, insecure, jealous, petty, coward. He probably imagined this whole scenario in his head and it just happened to be true. I still didn't think it was relevant... I mean, they were broken up. I wasn't being callous, deliberately or otherwise. Not like with Crandall. I mean, I cared, you know? I might have even loved her, if I'd gotten the chance. But no, Brian comes back, he grovels, and Alia Khan is nothing if not gracious. Next thing I know, her father disowns and disinherits here for marrying an American, and she's asking me to give her away at her wedding."

His words have long been drawn out, like those of the articulate drunk. Greg House prides himself on retaining the power of speech while otherwise... intoxicated. Even if his inhibitions take a running jump.

"Oh, House," Wilson started.

"Save it, Jimmy." The voice rings harsh, then softens again. "Really. Nothing happened. I was happy to still have her, and even happier that she was determined to keep me. And involve me in the kid's life." He laughed again, eyes bugging out incredulously.

"I was changing diapers, Wilson. I loved, love that kid. Sairah and Alia were the closest thing to an actual family that I had. Then I met Stacy, and she moved in a week later, and I thought, hey. What does it matter if I turned into a sap? I was happy, for the first time in my life."

"And then he found out," Wilson prompted once again.

"Yeah."

"And?"

"Sairah was days away from being eleven. Almost fourteen years ago. He thew me out. And took them somewhere, and moved to wherever." His gaze shifted to the ceiling as his head lolled back.

"I was an asshole. Ask Stacy. Suddenly, out of nowhere, my..." He cleared his throat.

"I'd given up, after those first few months." Another huff of drunken, sardonic laughter. "I don't know what happened in between. I don't know where her parents are, I don't even know if they're alive. Do you know?" His head popped up to look at Wilson.

"She looks just like her. When I saw her, that day in the elevator... I felt thirty years younger, because it was like Alia Khan was looking back at me. That's how she looked in med school. And every time I see her... God, Wilson. It's like being in a time warp. And she comes back, all sad-eyes, and doesn't want to tell me anything."

His head lolled back again to rest on the couch.

"I'm sorry, House." He sighed, weary and tired.

"Didn't we already have this conversation?"

"No...I hate that I was jealous." House's head snapped up again, eyes widening.

"What?"

"You're going to make me say it again, aren't you? Fine. Yes, I was jealous, and petty, and I wanted sole custody back." House half-smiled at him, eyes suddenly softening.

"Hungry?"

"Eh."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Miles away, a grinning Sairah Khan ran a hand over the beauty below her. Tearing her admiring gaze away, she turned to the man beside her.

"Sold."

"Fabulous."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Robert Chase had a routine. He didn't seem like a man who followed one, much less depended on it, but he did. He had a routine. Even during his hectic, unpredictable days as House's fellow, he still had a routine.

Get up. Get out of bed. Brush teeth. Shower, contemplate eating. Get to work. Work. Eat. Sleep, if necessary. Come home. Eat. Sleep. Occasionally entertain "lady friend."

Of course, the last part almost entirely vanished after he and Cameron started their.. thing. Her confident, careless proposition, his acceptance... and the whole Tuesday charade. He laughs whenever he thinks of it, ignoring the humiliating wince of pain in his chest. He thought of it again as he stepped out of what felt like his billionth appendectomy, trying to quell a wave of irritation. If we'd just let the idiots die, then natural selection would get the hint.

He stopped and blinked. Good God, he was turning into House. Shaking his head, he nodded to Wilson, who smiled back as they passed each other on the surgical floor. He ended up in the lobby, staring at the clinic doors and mentally cursing the heavens. House was standing next to him, waving a folder at him, ordering him to cut up whatever. He had lost all interest in anything by that time... and it was only Monday.

He resumed cursing.

House was asking him to supervise a transplant, and trying to be nice about it, he noticed. Surprised, he found himself nodding. It was irritating and flattering at the same time how he depended on him and his skills. And how his status was reduced to surgical errand boy, no matter how cool the surgeries are.

At the roar of a motorcycle engine, his head automatically snapped up from the folder to look at House in confusion. He saw Cameron from the corner of his eye stop on her way to the elevators and raise her eyebrows at House.

House had taken two curious steps toward the door, as had Cameron, staying carefully on the other side of the nurse's station. Chase's jaw, as well as House's dropped as a brand new, shiny, red Kawasaki pulled up into the second row. The graceful, lithe rider dismounted, clad in dark jeans, black leather riding boots, and a white Oxford shirt. Their eyes widened as the helmet was taken off, the owner shaking her straight black hair out.

Sairah Khan could not stop the devilish grin that graced her features as she looked straight ahead and all but strutted in, kid-gloved hands on the strap of the leather satchel on her back.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cameron was smiling as Sairah made it to the elevators without looking at any of them, hips obviously swaying. For whose benefit, she would never know. She started when she heard a deep belly laugh escape House. Her knees threatened to fail her as he genuinely smiled and laughed, shaking his head at the floor amusement. She felt light-headed as she looked at the blue eyes that were now sparkling. Still chuckling to himself, he walked to the elevators, and hit the button twice with his cane.

At the last minute, something possessed her to turn, and answer Hadley's frantic call for a consult right then. She speed walked to the elevators, lifting a hand to signal to House. A cane shot out and stopped it, as she smiled at him and entered.

He was still smiling.

"Thirteen call you?"

"Yeah. It looks immuno-related."

"It's always immuno-related, Cameron." His voice took on a remarkably different tone as he was still smiling. He shot her a glance when the elevator skipped the fourth floor, and they waited for the sixth. Sairah had just moved into her new office on the 6th floor, part of which would officially become OB/NN, the other part a gynecology clinic. The elevator dinged again, and he stepped forward, turning to face her with a hand on the door.

"Wanna come with?"

She smiled at him.

"Sure."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sairah bobbed her head to music nobody could hear, one hip on the desk, and one hand on her mug and the other holding a file. She didn't process a word the file said, instead counting in her head.

Seven, six, five, four, three, two... oh, here we go.

She grinned at her file, watching from a corner of her eye as Allison enter her office. The sound of her godfather's laugh floated in before him.

Sairah looked up, and chuckling at his attempt to think up the perfect opener until Allison cut in.

"I never thought I'd see the day when Gregory House was struck speechless," she quipped.

Now she really laughed. "Do you like him?" Greg's head snapped up.

"Him?" He laughed again, deep belly laugh that seemed to go on and on. He walked up to her and put his hand on her head, stooping to kiss her temple.

"It's red."

"Well, duh."

"Cuddy saw you, you know," Allison said, much to Sairah's delight.

"Fab. Might as well know what she got herself into," she said, smiling at the other woman. Greg had made himself at home on her chocolate brown love seat when Wilson announced his presence.

"I thought I'd find you here," he said to Greg. "I need a consult, House. And Cuddy wants you, Cameron."

"Good morning, Dr. Wilson," she nodded at his retreating form. He suddenly stopped in his tracks, spinning his heel to face Sairah.

"You," he said, pointing at her.

Sairah's eyes widened, brows creasing.

"You, my dear, can call me James." Sairah graced him with her trademark 100-watt grin as she walked up to him and accepted his arm.

"You know, James, this maybe the beginning of a beautiful friendship," she quipped, smiling at Greg and Allison's baffled stares as she waltzed out of her office on Wilson's arm.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Reviewwwww!