And here we finally come to the "seed" of Onslaught, the first concept that my muse came up with and built a story around it. I never quite know where ideas or stories will come from, certainly not from me trying to suggest something to her. Suggestions almost never work, but usually there is one "kernel" from wherever it may have come that germinates and grows a story to surround it, first basic framework of the whole story, like a skeleton, and then the fleshing out of the precise words on the frame as the last step. She is a very active muse, if temperamental. I balked at this idea at first, but the more it built and expanded, the more it sucked me in. And yes, I, too, was left wondering as the framework developed "but WHAT happens next?" I get my own cliffhangers before you do, and just as much cliffhangers to me.

Fasten your seat belts, in case you hadn't yet.

Thanks for the reviews.

(H/C)

House and Wilson were in Cuddy's room watching her sleep and finishing a late lunch at Wilson's insistence. House agreed to the meds/Reuben combination finally, not wanting to confess his panic attack earlier, but he had no taste for the meal.

"Lisa." Susan Cuddy appeared in the door, her eyes riveted to her daughter. Cuddy looked so pale, so weak in the hospital bed.

House stood up. "Shhh. We're trying to let her sleep. She's had a rough morning."

Susan crossed over to him and gave him a firm hug, and Wilson stood there impressed as House accepted it. House's look to him over Susan's shoulder proclaimed that he thought he deserved a few bonus husband points for this, too, but he did not object or pull away. Just when he was beginning to wonder if Susan would ever let go or if he would have to proceed through the rest of life with his mother-in-law dangling from his front, she finally released him and stepped back. She frowned slightly. "Greg, are you all right yourself?"

"Banged up my left side on the car door, and I cut my wrist." He held out the bandaged forearm as proof. "That's all."

"You just look worn out."

"It's been a tough day. Tough two days."

Susan turned her attention back to her daughter and walked over softly to study her. "How's she doing?"

"She spiked a fever this morning. Still has a bit of a fever now, but it's a lot lower. The antibiotics are kicking in."

"Is she going to be okay?"

"She should be, but it will take a while. She had major surgery."

"And now, tell me about my new granddaughter. What's her name, by the way?"

House cringed. "She doesn't have one yet."

"But if she was born early yesterday, hadn't you had time to think about it? I know Lisa said last time I asked that you hadn't decided yet, but I'd think having her here would speed up the process."

"Lisa and I were going to talk about it this morning, but she wound up developing an infection instead. Between her and the baby's complications, I haven't had time."

That successfully changed the subject, as he had hoped. "What complications?"

"She started bleeding into her brain."

"My God. Is she going to be okay?"

House suddenly sagged, feeling the weight of the last few days crash down on him again. "I don't know, Susan. I can't tell you."

Wilson stepped smoothly into the gap. "Would you like to go see her, Mrs. Cuddy? You won't be able to hold her, and you'll have to be quiet, because it's easy to overwhelm them with too much going on at once. But I'd be glad to take you down there."

House gratefully dropped into the chair. "You two go on. I'll stay here with Lisa for the moment. Make sure Mozart is still down there."

"Mozart?" Susan was confused momentarily.

"I'll tell you on the way. Come on." Wilson looked back at House as he left, and House gave him a short nod of thanks. Once they were gone, he leaned his head into both hands and closed his eyes, wishing he could get some rest, wishing he could tell people looking for hope that his daughter would be all right, wishing he could rewind back to Thursday and suggest they all go to a different restaurant instead or take a different route home.

A tentative knock sounded at the door. "Greg?"

His head snapped up. Blythe stood in the doorway of the room. "Did I wake you up?"

"I wasn't asleep, Mom. Just thinking."

"Oh, Greg." Blythe was across the room as quickly as she could with her quad cane, and her hug even outscored Susan's on duration. "Are you okay? How are you holding up?"

"I'm just tired."

She studied him. "Did you sleep last night?"

"Yes, I did. A good solid nine hours' worth. It's just been a rough day. Lisa developed an infection this morning, and the baby started bleeding into her brain."

Blythe's eyes welled up. "Is the baby going to be okay?"

House sighed. "I don't know, Mom. I can't tell you."

Blythe was still fishing for details and hope five minutes later when he gave up and took her down to the NICU to enlist reinforcement from Wilson.

(H/C)

The rest of the day dealing with the two mothers was maddening. House more and more felt like just snapping in irritation at everybody, and then he again thought he should be handling things better. Susan and Blythe weren't acting anything beyond what he'd expected; why did they grate on him so much today?

In the middle of the afternoon, Cuddy woke up briefly, and Wilson went down to retrieve Rachel for an extended family visit. Cuddy was feeling better, though very weak from the fever on top of blood loss. She enjoyed tales of her daughter from the NICU, although she was secretly jealous that both her mother and her mother-in-law had physically seen her daughter when she couldn't yet. House sat mostly silently to the side, trying to breathe evenly, trying to keep his eyes off that nearly magnetic cast, and trying to control the remarks that suggested themselves in his head, remarks that even surpassed usual House snark. He bit them down and refrained from verbally spearing his relatives, but he was surprised at how much he wanted to. Finally, Cuddy drifted back off to sleep, and the two mothers suggested that the rest of them go out to dinner. House declined, claiming he wasn't hungry (with accompaniment of a glare from Wilson), and Blythe, Susan, and Wilson wound up agreeing to go to the cafeteria for a meal, Wilson promising to return Rachel to her room on the way and also promising to bring House back another Reuben.

Finally it was quiet again, just him sitting and watching Cuddy sleep, but the respite was short-lived. Wilson returned with Rachel barely a minute after he'd left. "House, I just got a stat page. One of my patients is crashing; got to get there ASAP. I can't take her back to Peds right now; just hold her until the women get back, okay? Thanks." Fully preoccupied with his patient and believing the situation here was stable at the moment, Wilson deposited Rachel in House's lap and left at a brisk trot.

House closed his eyes. The cast almost seemed to glow through the closed lids, and Rachel, thinking it was a game, reached up to explore his face with her hands, something she loved doing. Breathe, he told himself. Breathe. Hold your daughter. Don't scare her. But he could almost hear the ghosts of the past filing into the room, memories pressing in on him. Opening his eyes, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed.

Jensen picked up on the second ring. "Dr. House. Have there been any new developments?" The psychiatrist had already called for an update in the middle of the morning's crises and gotten a brief and purely medical one.

"Not with them, but . . . could you come down here?" House kept his voice pitched soft, but Cuddy was solidly out.

Jensen was silent for a few seconds before replying absolutely steadily, his usual unflappable voice. "Of course. It will take me a little over two hours to get there."

House closed his eyes in relief as well as to keep from focusing on that damned cast. "I feel like everything's crashing in. I did get sleep last night, no dreams at all, over nine hours, but it didn't help any. I'm still fighting off the memories every time I look at Rachel. I'd . . . I'd like to talk to you. In person. I don't know how to deal with this."

"I'll leave right now," Jensen promised. "Soon as I tell Melissa and Cathy where I'm going."

"Thank you. I'll be in Cuddy's room, 338. We'll go to my office or somewhere."

"I'm coming. Hold on. See you soon." Jensen hung up.

House breathed a sigh of relief. Help. He knew suddenly that he needed help dealing with the onslaught of memories, as Jensen had so aptly called it. Frustration with himself wasn't working. Time to enlist a professional directly, not just by phone updates. He opened his eyes, forcing himself to look at Rachel. "Whatever's going on, Rachel, I'll work it out so I'll still be there for you," he told her. "Somehow, we'll get through it." She reached out to pat his arm, and he smiled at her, even while trying to remind himself to breathe.

"Still looking for somebody else to solve problems, are you? I was right. You never did really become a man."

House's head jerked around toward the door to the room, his red-rimmed, weary eyes widening in absolute horror, his already accelerated heart rate kicking into overdrive.

Standing in the door of the room, wearing his Marine dress uniform with the threads hanging from the missing decorations at the lapel, was John.