Hi, guys!! Thank you so much for all the feedback. Really. I'm glad you enjoy the flashbacks because I have a few more coming. Thank you!!

"How was everything at Aunt Dory's?" Cuddy asked as she broke from the embrace with her daughter.

"Okay." Sarah shrugged. "How's Dad? Is he all right? Can he come home?"

"In a day or two." Cuddy began to lead Sarah toward House's hospital room. "Dr. Lyons stopped the bleeding and put him on medication."

Sarah slid the door open and headed in quickly, leaving her mother in the hall.

"Dad!" Sarah crossed to the hospital bed.

"Hey, Mick." House did his best to offer his daughter a smile.

Cuddy entered the room and closed the door behind her. She crossed the room, slightly anxious as Sarah sat down on the hospital bed next to her father. House still seemed so fragile.

"How are you feeling?" Sarah asked him.

"Better than I was last night," House answered.

"That's good, I guess," Sarah replied. "Considering my liver now, aren't you?"

"Nope." House gave a quick shake of his head.

Sarah deflated slightly. "Dad..."

"Sarah, let's not discuss this now, okay?" Cuddy cut into the conversation. "Come on, we'll let your father sleep."

Sarah stared at her mother. "But, I just got here."

"We'll come back later tonight." Cuddy nodded.

"Your mom's right, Mick," House spoke up. "I'm about to doze off any minute. Damn drugs. Go home, take a nap. You look like you slept less than your mother."

Sarah took her father's hand. "I don't want to leave you so soon."

"Don't worry." House gave her hand a squeeze. "You've got my permission."

"Come on, honey." Cuddy placed a hand on her daughter's arm.

"All right, fine," Sarah agreed as she slid off the bed. "Just don't die on me, okay?"

"Okay," House said and gave her another smile that hid the emptiness he felt behind his agreement.

"Mom?"

Cuddy turned over in her bed and looked to the doorway. Sarah stood there, nervous and tired, wearing jeans and an oversized tee shirt with Mick Jagger's face on it.

"Yeah, hun?" Cuddy asked her.

Sarah stepped further into the room. "Can I sleep on Dad's side?"

"Yeah." Cuddy nodded.

Cuddy scooted closer to the edge of the bed as Sarah walked around to the empty side and climbed in. She settled down and breathed in the scent of her father that lingered on his pillow. Sarah looked to her mother, who was facing away from her.

"Mom," Sarah started.

Cuddy turned over in the direction of her daughter. "What, honey?"

"He needs my liver," Sarah told her.

Cuddy let out a breath. "Sarah..."

"Mom, he was vomiting blood!" Sarah said harshly. "He doesn't have much longer, let alone six months. Please just give me permission."

Cuddy shook her head. "If something happened to you..."

"It wouldn't be your fault, Mom," Sarah replied.

"Yes, it would be, Sarah, because I am the one who is suppose to protect you and if I let you put yourself in danger-"

"Mom, please." Sarah felt the tears start that she so desperately wanted to keep away. "I don't want Dad to suffer anymore."

Cuddy studied her daughter's face and then comfortingly wiped away the tears that fell. "We'll see how he does on the medication once he's home, okay? We'll see."

"Okay." Sarah gave in easily and scooted closer to her mother. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too," Cuddy replied, giving her daughter a small smile.

Sarah closed her eyes, but remained awake. She couldn't nap and was surprised her mother was trying to. Sarah blamed it on getting older. Her mother used to never take naps.

Within a few minutes, Cuddy was asleep. Sarah opened her eyes and watched her mother for a few moments before climbing out of bed. Immediately, the scent of her father left her. Sarah picked up his pillow and carried it with her into the hallway.

Her nose and mouth covered by the pillow, Sarah made her way down the hall. She stopped in the doorway to the living room and stared at the piano in the corner. It was her father's. He brought it with him when he moved in. Sarah smiled lightly, remembering how her mother had been frantic, thinking all their stuff wasn't going to fit.

Sarah lowered the pillow and made her way over to the piano. She clutched the pillow tightly against her with one arm while the fingers of her free hand lightly skimmed over the white keys. She pressed down on one of the keys, producing a low sound, sad and empty.

Clutching the pillow again with both hands, Sarah made her way over to the bookcase. It was a mishmash of her mother's and her father's books. They were jammed in too tightly, rows and rows of uneven books, worn and dusty. There were more books, Sarah knew, in boxes in the basement. She wondered if they would go through them if her father died.

"This is where you live?" Sarah stared, mouth agape, at her father's apartment. She never had put him in a context that wasn't her home or the hospital.

House faced her, cocking his head to the side. "You don't like it?"

"You have a piano!" Sarah ignored his question in her enthusiasm and hurried over to the piano. She pounded hard on the keys.

House winced. "Soon to be yours."

Sarah stared up at him. "You're bringing it?"

"Why?" House frowned. "You think I should leave it here?"

"No!" Sarah exclaimed. "I love it."

"Good," House replied.

He moved over to the couch and sat down. House watched as Sarah took another look around his living room. Sarah had shown interest in where House spent his time when he wasn't with them. Cuddy thought it would be a good idea for her to see his apartment. After all, he wasn't going to be living there much longer anyway.

"Are these your books?" Sarah stared at the bookcase, in awe of the size of it.

"No," House told her. "They were here when I moved in."

Sarah spun around, facing him. "They were?"

"I was joking," House said.

"Oh." Sarah looked back at the bookcase. "Will you read something to me?"

"What?" House asked, thinking he misheard her. She never asked him to read to her. It was a foreign notion to him. He shook his head. "No. Those aren't books for kids."

"Please, Dad." Sarah turned in his direction and begged. "Please."

"Your mother will get mad," House replied.

"Nu-huh." Sarah shook her head. "She won't. I promise."

"I'm holding you to that promise." House pointed a finger and then gave a nod to the bookcase. "Pick one out."

Sarah skimmed the choices, eyebrows drawn as she read the titles. "What's this? Free... free... uhd. Free-uhd."

"Freud," House corrected. "He was a physician. A doctor. You probably wouldn't like it. Pick another one."

"Okaaay." Sarah dragged the word out. "Hmmmm. Hamlet. Who was he?"

House smirked. "You might like that one. Bring it over."

"What's the book about?" Sarah asked as she pulled the book from the shelf.

"It's about Hamlet, a prince," House told her. "It's a play written by William Shakespeare."

"I like plays!" Sarah smiled and crossed to the couch. "Mommy took me into the City to see Beauty and the Beast."

"Here." House took the book from her. "Let's find a good scene." House flipped through the pages as Sarah sat on his left side. He looked down at her. "Do you want to be the Queen and my mother?"

"Yeah!" Sarah agreed, excitedly. "Are you Hamlet?"

"Yes." House gave a nod. "And you are Queen Gertrude."

"'Now, mother,'" House started grandly, reading from the text. "'What's the matter?'"

"Hamlet-" Sarah stopped, unsure of the next word.

House frowned. This really wasn't for a third grader. He whispered, "'Thou hast thy.'"

"'Thou hast thy,'" Sarah repeated and then read on, "'father much off-en-ded.'"

"'Mother, you have my father much offended,'" House read, putting on his grand act again.

"'Come, come, you answer with an' id... idd-uhl?" Sarah looked up at her father.

"Idle," House corrected.

"'Idle tongue,'" Sarah finished, her eyes back on the book.

"'Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.'"

"'Why, how now, Hamlet?'" Sarah asked as she hit her father's left leg with the back of her hand.

"'What's the matter now?'" House went on.

"'Have you forgot me?'" Sarah read.

"'No, by the rood, not so.'" House continued. "'You are the Queen, your husband's brother's wife. And- would it were not so- you are my mother.'"

Sarah looked up at her father. "Dad, I don't know what's going on."

"Don't worry, Mick." A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Not many people do."

"But, I wanna know," Sarah said.

House closed the book and stood from the couch. "You'll get an earful of Hamlet in high school." He looked to her as he slid the book amongst the others on the shelf. "Something to look forward to."

Sarah let out a sigh. "That's a long time from now. Can't we still read it?"

"No," House told her. "But, when you get the assignment in your high school English class, I promise you, Mick, we'll read it together then."

Sarah stared at the bookcase. She readjusted the pillow and then pulled Hamlet from its squished in place between Long Day's Journey Into Night and The Picture of Dorian Grey. She looked it over. Next year was when she would be reading it for English class. She had refused to read it until then, not wanting to mess up any part of the promise her father had made her.

Stubbornly, Sarah pushed the book back in between the others. She was going to read the play next year with her father. And, she vowed, if he died before then, she would risk failing sophomore English because she was never going to read Hamlet without him.