Chapter 29 A/N – this is a short chapter but one that is crucial to the story, and addresses an issue related to coping with disability that I haven't heard dealt with on the show.

12 Midnight Day 5

Blythe looked forward to spending a quiet night alone with her son, with her maddening husband out of the way at least temporarily. Wilson crept into the room quietly, bid good night to Blythe and House, and quietly slipped out of House's room.

She sat contemplatively watching her son sleep.

How did things get so out of hand? How could I have missed the fact that my son wanted to kill himself? For God's sake, this is his second suicide attempt! What kind of mother allows this to happen?

'A bad one', the devil on her shoulder said.

John is at fault for a lot of this, but so am I. I have to share the blame. I know blame isn't always the healthiest thing to focus on but I can't help it now. I told John that he drove Greg to this. Yes, that's true, and I could have stopped it. Greg didn't have to grow up the way he did. The truth is that I could have stopped the abuse simply by leaving John and taking Greg with me, and I didn't. I had a hand in this too.

Blythe sobbed quietly, unable to stop her tears and trying not to awaken her son.

I should have instilled confidence, trust, and love in him. These are qualities that help people handle the misfortunes that life deals out from time to time. I should have given him those gifts.

I've heard so many comments. People talk. I've heard other disabled people criticize him behind his back because he calls himself a "cripple". I've heard people think that's a derogatory term. I've heard criticism that he should have been able to move past his disability, to deal with it and move on.

He would have been better prepared to deal with his disability when it occurred had he grown up with the confidence, love and trust that every child deserves. Instead, they cut out his leg muscle when his emotional gas tank was empty and he had no reserve to call upon.

And we failed, even then, to recognize that the reason he started using the Vicodin for more than just physical pain relief was because he needed something to fill his emotional gas tank, and we still didn't recognize it for what it was. We didn't supply what our son needed. He needed what everyone needs. Love, respect, confidence. In the absence of those, what else is there?

How did things get so out of hand?

I know how, and his gas tank has been empty for far too long. It's time to fill 'er up.