A/N: Hello, readers. Here's the next installment, and I'll try to post the next chapter on New Year's Day if I get a chance, just because it takes place on New Year's Day (totally unplanned, that, but hey, if the symmetry offers itself, might as well try). I am working all day New Year's, at least hopefully though I doubt it, and the weather is also acting up, either of which could disrupt that plan, so if no New Year's chapter, sorry.

I truly admire authors adept enough in other languages to provide full scene dialogue, though I also think such should always be translated at the bottom and not just abandon readers to the not-so-tender clutches of Google translate. But I'm not good enough to be comfortable in it for extended speech. I know some of a few languages, but not fluent, and Spanish isn't one of them. So the scene with Marina will be in "translation." Same goes for another scene coming up in a few which hits a whole bunch more languages than this one in rapid-fire succession. If I say they're speaking something else, in your mind, just picture it that way. :)

(H/C)

Cuddy entered the bedroom, automatically locking the door, something they had been doing at night ever since the girls became mobile. A moment later, she hesitated with her hand still on the knob. If they needed her . . .

"The monitor will be on," House pointed out. "You're incapable of sleeping through a call to duty, anyway." There was guilt underlying the statement, though. He definitely hadn't pulled his weight on parental duties last night.

"You're right," she said, not sounding totally convinced, and started for her side to double check the monitor. He had just shaken out a handful of evening pills and put the bottles away in the nightstand drawer. He gulped down the pills pointedly without water, giving her a challenging glare as she flinched. Cuddy wondered what exactly was in that handful and if he had taken the full dose on the sleeping pill, but she knew asking would just antagonize him and certainly not change his decision, whatever it had been. She'd find out soon enough anyway.

She went through the bathroom, changed into pajamas, then crept out for one final visual check. They were sweetly asleep, though it had taken a while. She and House both had promised to be right over in their own bedroom and not go anywhere. When she re-entered the room, House shot her a worried though slightly drowsy look. "Well?"

"They're fine." For now.

He relaxed. "Of course they're fine. I've been telling you they'd get over it quickly. So have Jensen and Patterson." He looked away when mentioning Jensen, though. She wondered how much they had gotten into during their brief phone call before Abby wanted him.

She climbed into bed, checked the monitor for the third time, then turned out the light. After a moment, he sighed. "You're lying there worrying. It's keeping me awake."

Cuddy really didn't want to argue about this again right before going to sleep. "I'm sorry," she said instead, leaning over to kiss him. He responded, but both of them were still on edge, and both knew it. She could feel him fighting the meds - he had taken some dose - but she didn't think it was the full one. There was too much of a fight going on. Please, let this be a peaceful night for all of us, she thought.

Right under two hours later, precisely on schedule, he had a nightmare. They were arguing about taking another boost on the sleeping pill when the girls woke up, scared and wanting to sleep with them. That at least cast the deciding vote on the meds.

All of them were sound asleep in the big bed when her cell phone rang the next morning. She woke up immediately but still felt ragged after the interruptions with House and the girls. 6:20 a.m. It was Jensen.

"Hello," she answered softly.

He read more into her tone than she had realized was there. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up." He knew she was a morning owl, like he himself was.

"Usually I'd already be up long before now, but last night was a little disrupted." She quietly slid out of bed, placing her pillow up against Abby, who was closest to her side this time. Slipping on her robe, she gave a firm look at Belle as if handing off direct custody, then quietly walked to the door and into the hall. House was still out, but she didn't want to wake the girls. Everything was peaceful right now, and she wanted to postpone this day as long as possible. Today, he would insist on actually leaving them to see how they reacted, and sooner or later, he would tell them his plans for next week.

The psychiatrist sighed. "Is he having nightmares again?"

"When he isn't totally drugged out. The girls have helped a little by insisting on sleeping with us, but they started out last night in their own beds, and he got one round of nightmares before they moved in here and he stopped being stubborn about the meds."

"Was it about John and funerals?"

"He wouldn't say anything about it. It was a very bad one, though."

"I found out last night about his plan with the girls."

Cuddy looked back into the room at them: Her family, all together. That was what they needed, not just for the sake of the girls but for him, too. "That's never going to work. I think even he's going to realize that before we leave, but I hope we don't have to upset them too much first with these damned tests. He was trying to condition them yesterday for a while, five minutes out, five minutes back in."

"Hopefully he'll come around. Keep letting him know your opinion. I gave him mine as firmly as I dared to last night, but you can push a little harder than I could. Meanwhile, I wanted to talk to you about the schedule. Are you flying down Sunday?"

"Yes, and back Thursday. I'll make reservations this morning for that and the hotel."

"Just go ahead and reserve me a slot, too, for whatever you do, and I'll pay you back. That way, we'll all be together. I'll drive down to Princeton Sunday morning."

"You don't have to pay us back," she protested. "This is going to make you miss several days of work, after all."

"I'm not only doing this for him," Jensen admitted. "I need this for me. My wife was telling me to go last night even before he called."

"For closure," she said.

"Yes."

"I just wish he saw things that way." She looked back through the open bedroom door to her husband. "I'd like to kill John House. Maybe I can at least spit on his grave or something while we're there."

"You're stronger than John is. Remember that, Dr. Cuddy. You prove John wrong every day just by being there through things. The present is stronger than the past, and we will get him through this somehow."

"Thanks. Thanks for coming, too. Even if you are doing it for you, too, you always calm him down just by being there. That will help. Back to logistics, what about a compromise? You pay for the hotel, and we'll get the plane ticket."

"Deal," he yielded.

"Do you mind rooming with Wilson? He's paying his way, although I did offer. I think he still feels guilty about John's funeral. It would give both of you a break to split it."

"Not at all."

Abby stirred, opening her eyes. "Got to go," Cuddy said quickly. "The girls are waking up. I'll send you the exact flight and times, okay?"

"All right. Good bye for now."

She hung up and quickly went back into the room just as Abby was getting down to the blank spot in her inventory of the room's occupants. "I'm right here, Abby. It's okay."

Abby sat up. "Morning, Mama."

"Good morning." She hugged her daughter, then climbed back into bed.

Abby reached over Rachel, who was waking up too, and poked her father. "Morning, Dada."

"He's still asleep. Let's try not to wake him up, okay? But he's fine. See him breathing? If you put your hand right there, you can feel his chest move." Rachel joined her sister in the vitals check, and Abby then looked back to Cuddy and put her hand on her mother's chest at the same spot. "Yes, I'm breathing, too. Everybody does. Even Belle. That's how we know we're alive." She guided her daughter's hand down to the cat, and Abby smiled, looking frighteningly analytical. Cuddy suddenly had an image of her daughter as a physician-musician thirty years down the road.

The future. It was refreshing to look past the looming mountain range of the next week for a moment and remind herself that they would get past it, even if she dreaded the climb. She lay there, watching her girls watch their father.

(H/C)

A little later, once a movie had been popped in for the girls, Cuddy left things under Marina's eye and retreated to the bedroom to take a shower - and to make a phone call. Thornton answered promptly. "Good morning, Lisa."

"Everything's fine," she reassured him. "At least, nothing new is wrong that wasn't wrong before. I haven't got much time, but I'm making travel plans, and I wanted to ask you, what hotel are you staying at?"

He got the point instantly. "Are you sure he'd like that?"

She was fairly sure, although he would probably kick like a horse just for appearances. Still, he hadn't specified a different hotel, and she knew he hadn't just forgotten. Thornton was on his mind right along with Blythe and John. "You deserve this, Thomas. He knows that himself. He hasn't told you to get lost and just leave town now that the funeral's arranged, has he?"

"No, he hasn't."

"He knows he's going to see you. He actually wants to see you. He told me to make hotel reservations, and he didn't say anywhere except yours." She thought she would wind up getting some heat for the decision, but that was only because he couldn't admit yet that he wanted to spend time with his father. "He's had chances to set it up with both of us to limit time with you as much as possible, and he didn't. So which hotel are you staying at?"

"I'm at the Hyatt. Just a minute; I've got their card over on the nightstand." He walked over and read off the phone number. "Could have gone cheaper, but I thought we might as well be comfortable if we have to do this at all."

She had to smile on that we. "You knew we'd wind up there."

"I hoped."

"That's fine with me. Paying a little more is worth it for better facilities. Travel is rough on him anyway, so the accommodations make a difference. Do they have hot tubs?" She suddenly remembered Blythe and their hot tub, another possible conspirator in her death. They needed to reclaim that hot tub for themselves, but not with so much else in turmoil. It could wait in line at least until after they had the girls decided.

"Yes, they do. Are you flying down Sunday?"

"Yes. I've already looked at flights. We'll get there mid afternoon Sunday, and we'll leave Thursday." She heard the unspoken question. "He has an appointment with Blythe's doctor to talk about things Wednesday. And as for you, he'll let you know without any room for doubt if he really wants you to leave earlier. He'll probably make it rough on you at times to stay, though."

"I can take it." He sighed. "I'm almost ashamed to say I'm looking forward to this. Not the funeral at all, just seeing him. I wish things were completely different, but since we have this card, it's the one positive side of it for me. Not that I was putting a price on setting things up."

"I know that. Like I said, you are making progress. Sooner or later, he'll believe you. About setting things up, are you doing okay? I know that had to remind you of your wife."

"Yes, it did." His reply was as forthright as she was growing to expect from him. "I'm dealing with it. My memories are good ones, at least."

"Take a little time for yourself between now and Sunday, okay?"

"I will. I've already got an appointment in about an hour for a trail ride at a rent-a-horse place."

"Good. Be careful, though." She couldn't help the flash of worry in the postscript.

"Always." The tone on that sounded so similar to House's that she closed her eyes for a moment, lost in thought. How had anyone knowing both Thornton and his son well for years ever thought that the facts could have been concealed from John? But Thornton hadn't seen that much of Greg, had only gotten Blythe's 129 deluded letters with her version of home sweet home. It was Blythe herself, believing it for over 50 years, who should have realized much sooner that the game was up, even if she hadn't seen the abuse. Cuddy gritted her teeth, the anger surging up again.

"Lisa?"

"I'm here. Just thinking."

He obviously heard the edge on her tone but didn't push. "After the ride, I'm going back to the senior center for lunch to let Blythe's friends talk some more. They do all know everything that was on the news, but nobody is going to bring up the past with Greg; I'm making sure of that." There was an edge of steel in his voice for a moment. "They're a good bunch of people, though, and they mean well. She had a lot of friends. She was happy the last few years after John died. I'm glad of that."

Cuddy flipped back from anger to sympathy. Damned emotions. She wished the merry-go-round would stop on one for a few minutes. "I'm glad of that, too."

"People are going to get there a little early for the funeral, just a time to visit and share memories before things get started. Greg doesn't have to come to that. It might help him, though, listening to them."

"We'll see. I agree, but I'm not sure he will. I'd better go. See you Sunday when we get to the hotel, but he'll probably be hurting by then. Don't take things personally."

"I'll see you then, Lisa." He paused for a moment. "You might take your own advice."

"What advice?"

"Take a little time for yourself between now and Sunday."

She was touched by his concern. "I'll try. Bye, Thomas."

"Bye, Lisa."

She put the cell phone aside and turned on the shower, suddenly wanting to spend time with Thornton herself, totally aside from House's perspective or the girls. Already, he seemed part of the family.

(H/C)

Cuddy emerged from the shower to find things fairly peaceful in the living room, though Rachel and Abby both marked her return immediately. They were watching the movie, and House was sitting on the couch allegedly watching it, too, though she didn't think he saw anything on the screen. He was deep in thought. He jumped slightly as she came around the edge of the couch, and then he looked at the girls and set his shoulders. He was going to bring up leaving.

She quickly jumped in herself, heading him off at the pass. "Marina, can we talk to you in the kitchen for a minute?" House glared at her, and she returned the look steadily. Marina had to know well ahead of Sunday, after all.

He and Marina stood, and the girls started to scramble off the couch themselves. "It's okay, girls. We're just going to talk about lunch in the kitchen; we'll be right there. Just for a minute. Look, the kitten like Belle is coming back on." It was harder to distract Rachel than usual, and Abby even harder, but they stayed on the couch with Belle herself, looking back and forth from the TV to their parents. Cuddy stopped in the edge of the kitchen door, her back still visible, and kept her voice very low. "Marina, the funeral is going to be Monday morning in Lexington. We're flying down Sunday. We won't be back until Thursday, because there are some other things to do there."

"Good, good. You take your time. So you don't need me next week?"

"Well. . ." House started and then stopped, looking at Cuddy. She was silent. She wasn't going to be the one to say it.

"What is it?" Marina asked, looking from one to the other of them.

House gave Cuddy an accusing look. "We do need you to keep the girls next week. They aren't coming," he said softly.

Marina stared. "They aren't coming? But they're so scared because of her death. You can't just take off for the whole week right now and. . ." House looked down like a guilty 5-year-old. Spanish fire lit in her eyes, and in the next moment, the nanny seized House firmly by the left arm and dragged him, though slowly, through the living room back down the hall. The bedroom door shut firmly. Cuddy sat down between the girls, who had given up all pretense at watching the movie.

"What's wrong?" Rachel asked.

"Marina just needs to talk to Daddy for a minute." She hugged them, one on each side, pulling them protectively close. "It's okay, girls." Not quite a lie, she rationalized. She did think House would ultimately decide to take them. She was just trying to minimize damage until he did. If they could avoid actually telling the girls there ever had been a chance they could be left for five days, all the better. "Look, the chase scene is coming up."

(H/C)

Marina pulled House into the bedroom, shut the door, and then spun back to face him. Not a trace of sympathetic hovering now. He didn't think he had ever seen her this upset, and when she spoke, it was in Spanish, the words tumbling over each other urgently, though she wasn't actually yelling. He thought the only reason she wasn't was the little ears in the other end of the house. "Now, you listen to me. You are going to walk out on those two precious, little girls, your daughters, right after they've been scared out of their wits and decided that you two are about to die, and you're going to leave them here? For five days? Just walk on out the door? You saw things yesterday. You can't do this to them. They'd be having nightmares for months about it, all because you just don't want to take them to the funeral. Idiot! Children are welcome at a funeral. Nobody minds them. They need to go anyway, to say goodbye to their grandmother, but they sure DON'T NEED TO BE LEFT BY YOU." She ran down and stopped only for oxygen. "So you take them, too." She gave a brisk toss of her head as if that settled the matter, which for her, it did.

House cringed. This wasn't taking him back to his childhood. Nobody in his childhood had ever gone after him like that, purely verbally, with such disappointment in her tone and eyes. It would have been easier to take a beating. He pushed down the growing worry that she (and Cuddy and Jensen) were all right and tried to summon up the appropriate sharp edge to his voice. "So I just take them, too? It's not that simple, damn it."

Marina shook her head quickly. "No! It is that simple. You're just being a stubborn man." She made the simple word sound worse than many other epithets hurled at him over the years.

This wasn't fair, damn it. She didn't know about Thornton, didn't know about John's funeral predictions, and didn't have any idea what she was talking about. "Are you saying you won't do it?" he challenged, moving forward a limping step. "So you'd just leave them when they need you, too? Doesn't leave you much room to criticize me, you know."

She didn't back down, even though he was far taller. "I'm not their parent. But if you insist on doing this, I will keep them, because they deserve at least one familiar person around while they go to pieces. But when you come back, they will be shattered. You're their father, and instead of acting like it, you're ignoring what they need to try to make things easier on yourself. Shame! If you want some help dealing with them during the trip and all, I'll go along, too, but they belong with you."

House abruptly limped around her and opened the door. Down the hall and to the front door, though he did take a second to toss one quick, "Back in a minute. I'll just be outside," to the girls. He sat down on the porch, his body quivering slightly. After a minute, the door behind him opened, and Cuddy came out, handed him his coat, and sat down on the step next to him. She put an arm around him, and he jerked away sharply, letting her know in no uncertain terms that he was mad at her. "That was so not fair," he protested.

She looked guilty, but she stuck to her guns. "Marina had to be told anyway. Would you rather have done it right in front of the girls?"

"You set that up earlier and rehearsed it just to get her on your side."

She flinched, and he felt that knife stab go home and knew he had hurt her. "I hadn't said anything to her about your plans before now. That wasn't scripted, Greg."

"Yeah, she just came up with all that on her own."

"Yes, she did. And yes, I kind of hoped she would go off on you, but only because I've already said it myself dozens of times, and I thought maybe having someone else come from a different angle would help. This isn't going to work, Greg. You'll only make things much worse. You told me last summer when I was starting to damage them, and I'm returning that now. You haven't done it yet. So far, all the current problem is on me for telling them wrong about death, but that's about to change. And I said that through an ignorant mistake, but you aren't going to hurt them in ignorance. If you do this, you do it with multiple people warning you in advance it will be a disaster. You are going to hurt them badly if you go through with this. They'll need professional help. Look at them, Greg. They're terrified. You want to leave them the day after tomorrow and stay gone for five days? Do you really think they'll be over it by then? Even telling them we might leave them like that, even if you change your mind later, once you say it to them, we've undone all the progress and made everything worse."

He squirmed on the step. "You could stay, then. I'll go with Jensen and Wilson."

She shook her head. "I'm not leaving you in this. Besides, we belong together. This happened to us as a family Wednesday morning. We need to cope with it as a family, yes, on a toddler level with them, but not shutting them out completely. You can't shut them out from this, Greg. It's too late. They were right there when it started."

He stood up stiffly, the cold gnawing into his leg, and stalked back inside. She followed. "I'm going to go out to get us a pizza for lunch," he announced. "I'll be back in an hour."

The girls both latched on like Velcro, the movie forgotten. "No!"

"I'll be back in an hour," he promised again. "Mama will be here, and Marina will be here, and I'll be right back. Look, see the clock on the wall. When this hand gets around to here, I'll be back. So you can watch it." Abby eyed the clock, at least following his hand as he pointed to it. Rachel ignored it.

"Not going to die, Daddy?" she asked.

"No, I'm not going to die. I'm just going out for pizza, and I'll be back in an hour. If you started another movie, I'd be back before it's over." He picked them up one at a time for a hug. "I'll be back. I promise." Then, setting them down, he turned and left, not even looking at Cuddy and Marina.

He was mad. Unfortunately, the roads demanded careful driving on last night's new snow, and mindful of his promise to the girls, he couldn't even make himself peel out satisfactorily. He had meant to go to PPTH for a while to check in, but instead, he drove to the park. Children were playing there, romping in the snow, enjoying the break from school. He sat in the car and stared at and through them. Families having fun together.

Damn Marina. And Cuddy, and Jensen, and everybody else who just didn't understand. He couldn't take his daughters to the funeral and let them see . . . well, whatever was going to happen there. If he totally lost it, if he ruined it for everybody, at least they wouldn't have to witness that. Besides, they were just kids. They didn't need to see Blythe in her casket. It would give them nightmares.

Nightmares. John had been chasing him last night, House running and trying to escape, and John somehow in front of him at every turn, railing at him with predictions of funerals, laughing at him for having killed his own mother himself and fulfilling the threat without John having to lift a finger after all. House trembled again thinking of it.

He was shivering badly now, he realized. He restarted the car and turned the heater up, but it didn't help. His leg was starting to protest, too. He had wanted to get away from it all for just a little while, to be alone, which nobody had actually let him be since Wednesday morning when he found Blythe. But now that he finally was alone, the blank spot on the seat beside him seemed a canyon. The ghost of John was in the back, whispering promises in his ear, and he wished suddenly that Cuddy were with him, even if she was going to lecture him. At least she would be there.

Marina. Maybe they could take Marina - he hadn't thought of that. She could babysit, and the girls wouldn't even have to go to the funeral, could simply play back at the hotel. That would at least remove the funeral block, plus leaving them for five days. But there was still Thornton. You can trust him, Jensen had said. Could he trust him that much, not just with himself but his family? John laughed from the back seat.

House raised his hand to the gear shift. All at once, he wanted nothing more than to go home. Even if they were mad at him, even if Marina lectured him, he wanted to go home. He stared at his hand, realizing that it was shaking visibly. He had to steady himself, had to drive carefully, couldn't break that promise. The CD case caught his eye, the recordings of his grandfather, one of many copies he had made by now. He pushed the CD in and turned the volume up, and the piano concerto started. Dissonance. Resolution. Beauty. By the time he got home, he had stopped shaking. Up the front path, and he only remembered as he came in that he had forgotten to get a pizza.

Cuddy was standing in front of the clock, holding both girls, and they all turned, startled, at his entrance 15 minutes early. In the next minute, his women were all on him, locked in a fierce hug of relief, Cuddy as much as the girls. Finally, they broke apart. The girls were on the floor now, both attached to his good leg, and he looked down at them. Their eyes were still reddened and swollen. His daughters had been crying not too long ago, though the tears had stopped before he came in.

"You came back," Rachel said. "Like you said."

He sighed and looked helplessly at Cuddy as Marina watched from the sidelines. "Do you have any idea how much hassle it's going to be to pack everything?" he said. "And it's you who's packing it all, not me."

Her kiss in response left him breathless, and John's voice, which followed him home albeit at a muted level underneath the stronger piano concerto, died unnoticed into silence during their embrace.