If you're still out there, thanks for reading!

I do not own any recognizable characters

.::10

Shelly watched his features as he laid with his eyes closed in the hospital bed. From this angle she could almost imagine that the years had been kinder to him, as he looked so relaxed and reposed laying back in the bed. Then the thought slipped into her mind that he would also probably look similar lying in a coffin, and Shelly shuddered. She couldn't let that happen.

Laying in bed back at home, she had gone over the pros and cons of her daughter possibly giving up a part of her liver versus just a bone marrow transplant instead of trying to sleep. Diedre herself had slipped into Shelly's bed hours before to tell her mother she had made up her mind to give her father anything he needed, even after Shelly had tried to dissuade her with all the possible side effects and scenarios. The peace and resolve Shelly saw in the 16 year old's eyes was something she coveted for herself, as her mind seemed to be a jumble of conflicting thoughts and emotions. The scared part of her was pleading to pull rank and just forbid her daughter to go under the knife. Legally she had that power. But the logical side of Shelly knew that overruling her daughter's wishes, well, this wish in particular, would sever and destroy all kinds of bonds they had together. The realization was that, not for the first time, she would just have to put faith and trust in her daughter's decision. Diedre was growing up, and Shelly had to respect the stubborn determination of her daughter's choice, even if she wasn't 100% comfortable with it.

And so, with the decision made, the only thing left to think about was House. As much as Shelly feared that he would hurt Diedre somewhere along the road, deep down she knew it would hurt her daughter far more if they lost him now. There was only one thing Shelly could think of to make their future journey together more peaceful, and so here she was, hovering outside of House's hospital room in the middle of the night. She knew she had to summon up the nerve sometime, so it might as well be now. Drawing in a deep breath she slid open the glass door and softly entered. The dialysis machine was no longer hooked up, but it still sat off to the side. It's hulking presence a lingering reminder of what they were here for. Shelly softly touched the fabric of his sheets, and then his sweatpants, before finally touching the back of his hand with her own to wake him. When House opened his eyes she thought he must have still been dreaming a little, because it almost looked like he didn't recognize who she was for a moment.

"Shelly," he finally said, his voice thick with sleep. Struggling to sit up he accepted her help as she rearranged the pillows so he had a foundation to lean back on. Scrubbing his hands over his head he looked around for a clock. "What time is it?"

"Around 2 am. I was hoping that you would still be on California time, and that it wouldn't seem so late for you."

He gave her a small grin as he stretched out his leg. "You'd think that sleeping for a week straight I wouldn't be tired anymore, right?" He winced a little from the stretching and reached down to massage his leg. "I need my bag," he said, indicating his backpack that occupied the lone chair in the room. She retrieved and unzippered it for him, and he wasted no time delving inside for a sealed medical packet.

"Your new meds?" Shelly inquired as he set up a makeshift station on the tray table. He nodded as alcohol wipes, baby oil gel, and cotton balls were arranged next to the pain patch. But when House hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats he paused and looked at Shelly.

"You want to stay or go?" he asked.

"I'm here if you need a hand," she replied, and crossed the room to draw the shades. He already had hiked his pants down and was just sitting in his boxers by the time she turned back, and Shelly watched, a little fascinated, with how thorough and methodic he was with the process. He massaged baby oil around the edges of the old patch to release the adhesive, then cleaned the whole area of and around the shaved scar with the rubbing alcohol before applying the new patch, which he then covered with his hands to warm up and activate. Shelly helped by clearing away the garbage when he was finished and assisting him with getting his pants back up around his swollen stomach.

"It looks better than when I last saw it, " she finally commented indicating his leg. Too late, Shelly realized what she had said and braced herself when House narrowed his eyes at her thoughtfully.

"So what happened then, when you came over after the infarction? Was that another attempt at you trying to come clean about Diedre?"

Shelly sighed and sat facing him from the end of his bed.

"That was the last time I got up the courage. You were so sick, and hurting. I felt like I was trapped in a room with a wild animal. I was sitting there, thinking I would have this great therapy session with you, calm you with music, and then give you the news. Let Deidre be your hope for getting better. But the abuse, the berating. I know you were just trying to vent your frustration, but I was so terrified that you were so far gone you would lash out on your daughter whenever the pain was too much of a challenge." House just sat for a moment looking at her, and she could see the wheels turning in his head.

"So?" he finally prompted.

"So?"

"Why are you here, Shell? It's 2 in the morning. You didn't bring bagels, so I'm assuming you want to chat without the kid around. What are you here for?"

Shelly felt the butterflies starting to dance in her stomach from her nervousness and pressed her hands against her legs to try and contain her emotions. It was now or never.

"I just wanted to apologize to you, Greg. For everything. You don't know your daughter, and that was my decision. My mistake. God knows, if you hadn't gotten sick, I may have never gotten up the strength to ever tell you about her. And doing it this way, for these reasons, just sucks, I know. So, I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry. We're going to be seeing each other a lot. Well, indefinitely, if Dee has anything to do with it, and although I know you'll probably never forgive me, I just wanted to put it out there."

Shelly drew in a deep breath. She felt as if she just bled the life out of herself, and yet she was still there, sitting, breathing, her heart pounding in her ears. And House was still just regarding her silently with that laser blue stare.

Well, what did you expect? His willing and immediate forgiveness? This isn't Billy Graham we're talking about here.

Finally, Greg looked down. "Actually, the therapist at the Waismann clinic seems to think that I'm the one who owes you an apology, for forcing you to go through all the concealment in the first place."
Shelly thought she was hearing things, and it must have shown because House rolled his eyes at her expression.

"Therapy. It was a requirement for my program. You know having a teenager would put any parent into counseling, but just finding out the child you've never known is a teenager I think gives me a little special license here."

"No, no. It's not that," Shelly responded, recovering a little. "It's just that... I just never thought I'd hear you - admit anything like that."

She watched as Greg's expression changed and wondered if she had said too much again.

"Yeah, well. Good to know. I guess neither one of us has a spotless record, so at this point maybe it's time to live and let live," he finally said after a short pause. Shelly just nodded mutely, her brain buzzing with the relief House had just provided her. He was calling a truce. She couldn't believe the mellow reaction was coming from the very same man she had known and loved all these years. Still numb with relief, she inelegantly just blurted out the rest of her burden.

"Oh, and Diedre consents. To the liver donation, I mean. She said she's prepared to give anything you might need." At this news, Shelly detected a glimmer of relief before his gaze changed to one of scrutiny. She could feel herself squirming under his assessment.

"So, Diedre's prepared. What about Shelly?" he finally asked her. Shelly tried to swallow down the large knot that was suddenly stuck in her throat and looked down to examine the frayed hem of the lounge pants she was wearing.

"I told Dee that the decision is hers. I've explained all the recovery, and the side effects, and the possible complications, and she's still sure she wants to do this. She's a smart girl, Greg, and I trust her decision. Even if I don't like it."

"You could always just not sign the release. She's still a minor, you know."

Shelly looked up at his detached tone. His face was turned away from hers and looking out the window to the blackness outside.

"And let you die, you mean? Right, because then our daughter would not only blame me for keeping her from you, but for killing you too. I know you're a miserable bastard, Greg, but that isn't a good enough excuse for me to let you waste away in a painful death." At the anger in her tone, House looked back, his eyes mirroring a mixture of surprise and sadness. She held his gaze for a moment, hoping to see something in there that would reassure her she was making the right decision. Something that would convince her he was serious about taking this third chance he was getting at life and doing something with it. "Besides, I think the clause of you having your daughter's liver inside you might help you to remember not to waste it this time. If you even think you're going to get to wallow in self pity after this surgery like you did after your infarction you have another thing coming."

House gave a short laugh before she saw him shake off the bleak mood. "Blackmail, huh? So this is your revenge for me running out on you."

"You better believe it," Shelly answered, relieved that his humor was back. "Dee has been pestering me for a belly ring, and I need backup, so you better make sure you stick around. I'm positive she'll complain louder now that I gave consent for a liver transplant but I won't let her stick a little bit of stainless steel through her navel."

House made a disgusted face before giving Shelly a little smirk.

"Sounds like she has some good debating skills."

"With the two of us as her parents I don't think there was any other option. Naming her after both of our genteel mothers didn't do much in regards to passing along their virtues of patience and understanding." Silently, Shelly tried to reign in her heartbeat. As they sat here bantering back and forth, she could feel her long dormant feelings for him start to awaken from the electricity they were generating, and her heart was starting to clamor around in her chest from the excitement.

House gave another small smirk and then dropped his head to study his hands. Shelly mentally prepared for the next deflection, but his question was soft and tentative. "What was Dee like? Growing up, I mean."

The longing in his voice recalled the small lump to form in Shelly's throat, and she quickly slid off the bed to retrieve the bag she had brought with her. Pulling out a thick album she crossed over to his bed and settled it on his good leg, resting her hand on the smooth leather cover.

"I started this for you when Deidre was born," she said as she kept her eyes on her hand to avoid his stare. "It was a little baby book I kept for you. As Dee got older, she started adding to it, so it's kind've morphed into a scrapbook of sorts. She added all types of things she thought you might like to know about her and the things she's accomplished. I figured I'd let you have it now so you could go over in first in private without anyone bothering you." Shelly slipped her hand off the book and turned to collect her things, but as she passed by his bed on her way to the door, a firm hand gripped her wrist.

"Shell, wait. Do you think you could, maybe...stay? Tell me a little more about the pictures and things?" The book was already opened on House's lap, and Shelly could almost feel the raw emotion radiating from him. He looked like a lost child, and she bit her lip to try and keep her heart from crying for him.

"Sure, if that's what you want," she said, and re-stowed her things. House awkwardly scooted over so she could squeeze in next to him, and she tried to remain calm as his near proximity further stirred up the long dormant currents that used to sing through her body whenever he was near. Trying for the second time to banish the feelings and focus, she pointed to the first picture.

"That is the first photograph ever taken of our daughter, by one of the nurses in the delivery room," she began.

-tbc