A/N: This is probably it until next week. I'm taking a trip this weekend, actually to the races, hopefully without benefit of deranged and vengeful ex, explosion, and collapsing building. :) And Mom gets fit in before the weekend this time, due to those plans. Thanks for the reviews. Next up is Thomas and the Cuddys, with guest appearance by Jet.

(H/C)

Before heading down to the cafeteria, House updated Cuddy and Wilson on Kutner's case, though he didn't mention Foreman. Sandra already had many of the details since she was one of the nurses who had worked directly with Kutner herself, and that combination of medicines House had ordered earlier that morning pointed straight to malaria. Any nurse worth her salary looking at the order sheet could put that one together.

She agreed with Ramirez's remark that she thought Kutner might be starting to stabilize, which was reassuring. House put a lot more faith in her opinion, though he didn't say so. Ramirez was still young and untested, straight out of residency. Sandra had years of hands-on nursing to hone her patient radar. Of course, even if they beat the acute phase and turned things around, there was still the question of long-term effects.

Sandra had been paying attention to more than Kutner since yesterday. "I've been watching your three candidates on this case," she commented.

House looked up, distracted momentarily from worrying about Kutner's future. "Which one would you pick if you had the choice?" he asked.

She smiled at him and neatly tossed the buck back. "They've all got pros and cons. Come on, let's go to lunch. I don't want to be late."

"Doesn't count if you stay late over lunch when you were with the boss," House protested. "Which one?"

Wilson laughed, Cuddy smiled, and House, getting annoyed now, moved after them as Sandra simply started leaving. It didn't occur to him until later that she might have been deliberately provoking him to take his thoughts off Kutner.

Wilson jolted to a stop in the doorway of the office, nearly causing Cuddy to rear end him. "Oh, House, one thing I wanted to ask you." He'd meant to bring it up at guys' night out tonight, but that was obviously canceled, diagnosis or not. House looked exhausted. Wilson wasn't sure how much longer he'd be at the hospital today, and he'd probably be asleep later; better seize the chance. The oncologist gave a cautious glance up and down the hall, but no one was near. He turned around, retreating into the room. "Could I have Thornton's cell number?"

House was immediately suspicious, Kutner knocked clear out of his thoughts for the moment. "Why?" he demanded, and his eyes were anything but friendly right then.

Wilson proceeded carefully. He'd gone over this idea with Jensen, who was the one who had recommended approaching House instead of just asking Thomas directly. Wilson had interacted with House's father several times by now but always in a group, and he wanted privacy. "Not to talk about you," he clarified. A fraction of the stiffness went out of House, but he was still suspicious. "I wanted to . . ." He looked at Sandra for support, and she moved a little closer, a silent gesture. She knew what was up; he'd told her about the idea last night. "He made it work. With his woman, I mean. He was married 49 years. I wanted to ask him if he has any advice on it. I want this to last this time."

House was startled at first, then rapidly test drove the idea, holding up the pieces together and analyzing fit. That did make sense. "Could just ask him yourself," he said, stalling now simply to keep Wilson on the spot a little longer.

"I wanted you to know up front." Jensen's advice there had been crystal clear.

House pulled out his cell phone, then paused in the middle of calling up his address book. "Don't call him today," he stated.

"Why not?" Not that it had to be today, in fact Wilson had really been thinking about setting up lunch tomorrow if that was convenient. He had Wednesday afternoon off to go see Jensen anyway, and it was a great opportunity to have a conversation with Thornton and then immediately go over what he'd gleaned in session. Still, a mandate like that couldn't help but be challenged.

"Just don't bother him today," House insisted. No point in making the old man discuss his dead wife on a day when he was already thinking of his dead parents. House held the cell phone with screen turned toward him, keeping the requested number captive. Cuddy was starting to look worried.

Wilson sighed. "But any day not today would be fine?" House nodded. "All right, I won't call today." House offered the cell phone, and Wilson copied the number into his own address book.

"Now, we really need to get to lunch," Sandra reminded gently.

Cuddy tucked in close to House as they walked to the elevator. "Is Thomas all right?" she asked softly.

"He's fine. Call him yourself if you don't believe me."

Wilson shook his head. "Oh, I get it. It's just me you're objecting to today; the rest of the world can call him anytime."

"I doubt you're going to get divorced before midnight, Wilson, and if you were, I doubt he could make enough difference today to undo it."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Wilson shot back, but Sandra put a hand on his arm, and he let her change the subject.

Conversation during the meal was general, of course, mostly tales of the kids. Wilson had almost made them late that morning, Sandra reported, because he had been trying to get Daniel to tell them "bye." Daniel knew the word but was stuck on "hi" instead during breakfast, and Wilson couldn't get him to switch. Wilson made a pointed comment about House giving his son the deliberately annoying spirit along with his middle name, and House replied that there might be other obvious sources for that gift in Daniel's DNA. All in all, a pleasant lunch between friends with the give and take of people who knew each other well.

Sandra left first, still worried over the schedule and needing to get back to relieve another nurse. About five minutes later, House turned to Cuddy and said, "I need to see you in your office. I've got to apologize for something."

Wilson stood up immediately. "That's my cue to get lost. When you two get to apologizing. . . See you later." Then he was gone.

Cuddy came to her feet and waited for her husband, for whom it was more of a process. "What do you need to apologize for, Greg?"

He looked around the crowded cafeteria. "You really want me to here?" he asked, blue eyes sparkling. "I don't care where we do it, but I just thought. . ." He closed the distance.

Cuddy sidestepped neatly. "No, let's go to my office."

"Party pooper," House protested. She was careful to stay just out of reach on the journey.

Once in her office with the door shut and locked (the lock obsessively double checked by her), she turned to face him. "I'm sorry I wasn't listening to you about your dream this morning," he said.

They melted together. She regained her senses first; they were still at work, after all. She stepped back and straightened her business suit, hanging a mental note to check her makeup before her first afternoon meeting. "It's all right, Greg. You were there and well. That's all I needed to know."

He grinned at her. "Better recomb your hair, too." Her hand rose to it automatically. "For this much alone, Jensen has definitely earned his salary."

"For a lot more than that, but I agree." Apologies were definitely fun these days. House sometimes even looked for sins to commit just for the benefits of saying he was sorry. She had to admit that she'd manufactured a few herself. She studied her husband. "Greg, come home tonight. You need some sleep."

"Yeah. Got to see the girls, too. No point in staying tonight; I have the answer."

"Have you told the parents yet?" she asked, more sympathy than administration, though both were present.

"No. Doing it first thing after lunch."

She looked at her watch. "I've got a meeting coming up, but if you want me there and can wait a little, I'll join you."

The idea was tempting, but he wanted to get this out of the way and then get the egglings settled on research while he tested that tube of dirt and then went to search Kutner's apartment on his own more thoroughly. "No." His eyes thanked her silently for the offer, though. "The egglings are meeting me. Good opportunity for them to see it, and Hollingwood can be the sympathetic one if needed." He shook his head. "She's annoying. She's good, but she'd be so much better with a little more attitude behind it." Cuddy laughed. "And speaking of attitude, I need to tell you about Foreman."

He filled her in on the rest of the morning's events. She had already known about the job offer, but the departure so abruptly surprised her. "I'll notify Personnel," she said. "Unless he has already."

"Wait a few days, would you? I don't want that around the hospital grapevine just yet. Want to keep more pressure on the egglings. Foreman said yesterday he'd keep the chance of two positions to himself."

"Okay. If anybody asks me, he's just on vacation. But speaking of notifying people, there's one more in the list."

"The CDC." Of course she would think of that, the administrative mind at work.

"I know you hate the thought, but it's a requirement, Greg."

He shifted his weight off his sore leg. They were still standing. "But the purpose of the requirement is to prevent a disease outbreak here. He didn't get it here, and it isn't mosquito season yet here, and it isn't contagious by other contact. Princeton and the rest of America are safe. So their reason for needing to know is invalid."

"Somehow I doubt they'd see it that way." She looked at him with concern. He really did look worn out. "I'll take care of that if you like."

He relaxed at the reprieve. "Just say he was traveling. The stuff about his parents' death isn't relevant to them. He went to India and got it there, end of official story."

"I will." She looked at her watch again, obviously feeling the seconds speeding by. Not long until her next meeting. "Greg, is Thomas really okay?"

"He's fine."

"Then why didn't you want Wilson to call him?"

"You weren't listening. I didn't want Wilson to call him today. If I didn't want Wilson to call him at all, I wouldn't have given him the number." She still looked worried, and he relented. "Today is the anniversary of the plane crash that killed his parents."

She looked reassured and sympathetic all at once. "Poor Thomas. Yes, he's got enough to think about today, and his wife is a lot more recent. He doesn't need that emphasized." She looked thoughtful. "I wonder sometimes from his descriptions just how functional he was during the last part of her illness and then when he went to Europe. I don't think he even really was aware of himself enough to start to grieve her until several months into that trip."

The intercom on her desk chimed. "Dr. Cuddy, Mr. and Mrs. Bowdidge are here," said her receptionist.

Cuddy's hand went to her hair again. She hit the button. "Just a minute, please." She opened the desk drawer to retrieve her purse before retreating to the bathroom mirror.

"Relax," House told her. "It's not that bad. See you later." He limped to the door and opened it wide. "Come right on in. Dr. Cuddy is ready for you now." The wealthy elderly couple entered the office, and he couldn't resist turning back for one last glance at her quickly hidden and professionally shielded outrage before the door was closed.

He'd have to be sure to apologize for that stunt later.