"So he's doing better," Cuddy concluded with relief.

Patterson had listened quietly through the torrent of description of the day, from the breakfast to the funeral to the burial, finishing with the postscript that evening. Cuddy was still wound up herself even through the relief, and Patterson just let her talk. Finally, as silence lengthened for the first time in the so far one-sided call, the psychiatrist spoke. "I'm glad to hear it. I'm especially glad he finally let himself cry. But how are you feeling now?"

Cuddy took a deep breath and paused for the first time for a mental inventory. "Better. I don't think I'd realized how tense I was before."

"Did you say goodbye to her yourself?" It had been Cuddy's sole personal assignment from Patterson for the funeral.

"Yes. It. . . it did help. I was still so worried about Greg right then, I almost skipped out of it."

"He had several other people with him. Not that I'm downplaying your importance to him as a support, but you have to remember to let yourself have needs, too, and that yours are no less valid than anybody else's. Trying to be somebody's sole rock 24/7 isn't healthy. I'm proud of you for making the right decision there."

Cuddy smiled, looking over at her husband, remembering how he wanted that phrase repeated as he fell asleep. Part of that had been some mental differential, but she knew how much he valued the words for themselves. She, too, hadn't heard enough of them in life, even if her score was ahead of his. She relaxed a little more. "Rachel joined me up at the casket. I'd left the girls back in the seats, but Rachel ran up after a minute. She'd been crying some earlier in the service, but she never got too upset, and she looked right at her then."

"That surprises you, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does. I guess I was expecting her to be freaked out, especially at the casket, like a scene in a horror movie."

"And where would Rachel, at three, have seen a horror movie?"

"Good point. I think she had been remembering the other morning when Greg found her, but seeing her laid out like that, all peaceful with the flowers, seemed to help. Rachel said then and a few times later that she looked better."

"Rachel is going to be fine, Dr. Cuddy. The girls will cue off you for handling death and loss, and after a mistake at the beginning in explaining it, you've been doing a good job with them through this. How did Abby react?"

Cuddy reached over to touch her husband again. "She was crying a little, too, but she was so focused on Greg. He was holding her, and she was watching him more than anything, even during the music. Of course, that was when he was all locked up still, trying not to feel anything. Actually, I think he'd drugged himself this morning. He wasn't quite reacting right, even for him in stubborn mode, and he was being especially careful how he walked, too. His balance wasn't off, but he was acting like he thought there was a chance it might be and wanted to be sure because he had Abby. But I think she knew something was odd, even if she didn't understand what." One of the humor points of the day broke through the memories. "He even handed Abby to Thomas at one point. He was getting in the van and just handed her off to him, didn't even notice who it was. Believe me, he never would have done that with no conscious decision to unless he'd taken something."

"That's interesting," Patterson commented. "You're probably right that he'd taken a few extra doses of something. Even so, it shows a softening up toward his father. I'm sure that even drugged, he would have noticed if he'd started handing his daughter to, say, a terrorist standing there with bomb in hand. He's slowly seeing him as less of a threat."

"I hope so. I just wish progress would be faster sometimes. Thomas is such a good man, and he's so lonely." She smiled, remembering the drawing of the stone. "He's a bit of a rascal at times, too. You have to be around him a while to pick up on that."

"Like his son."

"Definitely. Greg is more in the face of the world, though. Thomas can almost come across as nondescript at first. I can see exactly how good he was in intelligence work; he's a chameleon. Fades right into a background if he wants. He's got a sharp sense of humor, but he isn't defensive defiant like Greg is. It makes me wonder again what Greg would have been like if he'd been raised differently. Marina put things together today for herself, and she made a comment that she didn't think the girls would be too far behind."

"She's probably right. Children are far more perceptive than we give them credit for."

"Rachel is totally sold on him, but I don't think she's wondered yet who he really is. She's more willing to take people at face value. So far, I think to her, he's a nice guy willing to play with her who has a horse. But Abby was interesting. When Greg handed Abby to Thomas, I was worried she'd act up there, and I was busy trying to help him get in. She hates being held by strangers, and she'll hit the limit on it pretty quickly. But she didn't struggle to get away. She was just studying him. I think she senses that he's somebody, even if she doesn't know who. She scares me sometimes the way you can see those wheels turning in there, and she's only two."

"You just said something interesting there, Dr. Cuddy," Patterson said.

"What? About Abby?"

"Only indirectly. That is interesting about Abby, but notice what you said along the way. Your husband handed Abby off to his father, and you got worried that she would resist because you were busy helping him get into the van."

"Right. I had my hands full just then."

"But how many other adults were there immediately with you?" Cuddy flinched, caught red handed once again. She sighed. "How many?" Patterson insisted.

"Three," she admitted.

"Every one of whom is familiar to Abby, aren't they?"

"Yes. You're right; if she'd objected, somebody else could have taken her right away."

"Precisely. We've talked before about how you aren't responsible for handling everything solo."

Ridiculously, she felt like she needed to defend herself, even to Patterson. "I don't try to handle everything. I let Thomas take the funeral arrangements just this last week, and that was major."

"That was definite progress. Of course, it also helps him get closer to Dr. House, which you want, but I was very impressed how you handled that and trusted him for it. Well done."

Cuddy settled back against the headboard again. "So you're saying sometimes it's two steps forward, one step back?"

"Sometimes. But that's still forward added together. You've come a long way in just six months, Dr. Cuddy. But you want progress to be like an interstate, smooth traveling at highway speed, maximizing gas mileage. It's much more often like city driving in an unfamiliar city. Stop at a light, go, stop again, check your directions, take a wrong turn here and have to work your way back around to your road. But even then, none of us have been stuck driving in that strange city for years. If we keep trying, we do get there. You're doing well. Just work on noticing when old habits try to kick in, okay?"

"I will. I was actually thinking a little while ago that I couldn't have done everything this last week. If Thomas hadn't stepped in, that plus dealing with Greg and the girls would have been too much."

"Well done. Nobody can do everything, Dr. Cuddy. Giving 100% is all that's required. But just like with Abby earlier, there are other people around you who will step up when needed if you'll let them. I'll let you go for tonight. You need some sleep as much as he does."

She looked at her husband. "I really wish we could be on that interstate sometimes." She wished it even more for him than herself.

"So do I," Patterson admitted. "I'm as much in favor of fuel and time efficiency as anybody else." Cuddy laughed. "Good night, Dr. Cuddy."

"Good night. And thanks."

"You're welcome. Call me if you need me."

Patterson hung up, and Cuddy put her cell phone on the nightstand. After a moment, she picked it back up and sent off a text to Wilson. I'll let you know when we head for breakfast tomorrow. Good night. She sent the same thing a moment later to Thomas. It was ridiculous to make him stake out the dining room to be able to eat with his family. Replacing the cell phone beside the bed, she switched the lamp off and then snuggled down next to her husband. House was deeply asleep, and she focused on the steady, reassuring rhythm of his breathing, putting hers in unison with it and using a technique Patterson had taught her. Inhale pink clouds, exhale black clouds. Picture the stress leaving. "I'm proud of you," she said again. Safe against him, the worst day of the trip past, she found that sleep claimed her quickly.