Wilson was with a patient when his cell phone rang; looking down at the caller ID he rolled his eyes and sent it to voicemail. After sending two more calls to voicemail he turned it on vibrate and twenty minutes later as he was escorting his patient out it was practically shaking out of the belt clip with the non-stop vibrations.

"What is it that can't wait twenty minutes?" He answered.

"Why didn't you answer?" It was House's voice that resonated from the speaker.

"I was with a patient, now what's so important?"

"You coming over for poker?"

"No I can't"

"Ohh that's right I forgot you're babysitting our fearless leader's ever widening ass."

Wilson irritated exhaled blowing into the phone, "House, what do you want?"

"Speaking of that rotund tuckus, how is it"?

"How is she, she's pregnant with your kid."

"Well duh."

"You want to know, go see her. I'm tired of enabling your lack of responsibility. Stop calling me and pretending not to care and then asking how she is. It's been two weeks and everyday you find some excuse to ask about her. Well I'm tired of giving in. You want to know, go find out for yourself."

"It's not like your good natured soul would ever NOT call me if something did happen anyway."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that." With that Wilson hung up.

House sat staring at his phone. He knew what he was supposed to do, he knew what he should do but his butt stayed firmly planted to his sofa cushions. He wanted badly to call or just go over to her house and just be with her but he couldn't. How could he be with her and not be what she wanted, what she needed. He told himself she was better off, but he didn't know if he really believed that.

Then there was the matter of the kid which was a different problem in itself. He stared down at the ultrasound scan on his coffee table, today she was twelve weeks. The chances of miscarriage were becoming smaller and it became real again. He was going to be a father, he felt proud in a way that his kid was a fighter that it wouldn't give up the fight for it's chance at life. And that was the problem his kid deserved more than he had to offer, it deserved a better life than he had had and that meant a better father which he wasn't sure he could be. He'd already screwed up and it hadn't even been born yet, how was he supposed to be what he needed to be, if he couldn't even prove to himself he could do it.

The last two weeks had been the longest two weeks of his life. He'd had three patients, the last of which had been a three year old boy whom he had refused to see until Peyton threatened to call Cuddy and then he did something he never does, he gave in without a fight.

Peyton had given him the evil eye after that day in the clinic. She challenged his ideas and fought him on every diagnosis, making it clear just how much of an ss she thought he was. But she never mentioned it, she never talked to him about it, instead she did her job and then she went home. To the rest of the team it was clear something was going on, but neither let on and no one had enough courage to bring it up.

He hated every minute of diagnosing the little boy, he couldn't stay focused and Peyton just seemed to lap it up. Every minute treating him was a constant reminder that there would one day be a child that carried his genes that could possibly resemble him, one that would need things other than the basic essentials, like love, attention, understanding, patience, and most of all a father figure. Then there was the family that stood by and watched as he racked his brains trying to save the boy's life. There would be life from him and that meant there would be the possibility that it could be taken away, that it could be hurt or injured. Where would he be then? Would it be worth it for either of them?

It took him longer than it should have to come to a diagnosis but he did manage to save the boy's life. This was what he hated about having attachments; it didn't allow people to be objective. It was emotional and thus irrational. His life was rational, it made since and everything could be explained in logical terms. But children weren't rational, love wasn't rational. So he asked himself could he, would he ever be able to step into the irrational. Who would he be if he did?

Lisa Cuddy had dozed off which she found herself doing more and more especially with nothing else to do beside lie in bed. She was in a deep sleep snuggled beneath her down comforter, warm and cozy, stretched out on her stomach with her arms wrapped around her cushy pillow. She was dreaming. She was holding a baby, she could feel its warm little body cradled against hers. She bent to kiss it's forehead but just as she did she felt something wrap around her, something warm and familiar and then the baby was gone. There was a familiar smell, a masculine musk that she recognized and then there was an arm pulling her into him and enveloping her. She could feel his face in her curls and his breath against her neck. She felt safe and secure but then the events of the past two weeks came rushing back to her. She opened her eyes as his hand traced down her side and wrapped around her belly. His head shot up and his hand spread over her mid section feeling the curve that had now become a protruding bulge. He pulled back the covers and leaned over her staring down at her stomach.

"You've really filled out, what's Wilson been feeding you?" He grinned and laughed looking down at her, "You better have something in that closet that can cover that otherwise you've got some explaining to do to come next Monday."

"Ohh but these…these are a work of art." He said reaching up for her swollen breasts.

She reached up and grabbed his hand before it met its intended target, "Why are you here?"

Her eyes met his and his face became serious, "Does it matter?"

"Yes it does matter."

It took him a moment, he looked like he was contemplating his answer, "Don't you want me to be here?" his voice came out low and soft like a child.

"House this isn't about what I want, it isn't about what you want anymore, It's about this, THIS is what matters now." She reached for his hand and placed it on her stomach again.

His eyes registered her meaning.

"You can't do this. You can't just come in and out of our lives when it's convenient for you. You can't just run every time things get tough and then just expect everything to be as you left it."

She stared into his eyes seeing the hurt there, seeing the pain behind them.

He had thought there was still time but she had used the word "our" as in them as in two. Meaning everything between them would now be defined by the life they created.

To Be Continued

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