Thank you to all you guys messaging and wishing me a happy 50th chapter. I was so glad the last chapter was so well received as I was apprehensive that it would be too distressing because of the delicate themes. Thank you guys again for following and reviewing, particularly to Old SF fan, and I'm extremely happy that people are enjoying reading this.


House drummed his pen against his files as he labored rapidly through patient documents, records and referrals. He had been conscientious about the growing pile of paper for months and just hoped Cameron would work through them at her own accord. Albeit she did thunder through half of the documents herself, she refused to complete it claiming to be 'too busy with her own work'. When he questioned who was meant to do it all, Cuddy gave him a gentle reminder that it was his responsibility.

At least it beat clinic duty, House thought to himself. Foreman, Chase and Cameron on the other hand had not been so fortunate. A case completed early meant longer clinic hours. However with the team being out of the way, the only sound that filled Houses office was the scratching of his pen dragging on the surface of paper.

"Good day!"

House pulled his attention from the files and removed his glasses as Dominika barged the door open with the pram.

"I know it only 3 o'clock," Dominika explained as she pushed the pram closer to Houses desk and taking a seat opposite him at his desk. "But Etta knew how much her daddy has been complaining that he wanted to spend more time with his little girl so she decided to surprise him."

House smirked. His mind easing as he laid eyes on Etta comfortably sitting within her pram. "Hey," House greeted. "I missed you." After today's events unraveling, he yearned to see his daughter. He swooped her up from the constraints of her pram and set her to face him on his left knee. Etta gurgled as he eyes studied her fathers features.

Dominika smiled. "She has been fidgeting all day. This is the first time she has sat still."

House smiled warmly at his daughter, standing her up on his lap as she reached her hands out. Desperate as always to smooth her hand over the stubble that ran across her fathers face. Etta's soft, tiny palms contrasting his prickly overgrowth. House pecked a small kiss on her hand as she ran it over his mouth.

"Thanks for bringing her over."

"No problem," Dominika replied. "It was all Etta's idea anyway. I go to store now and pick up groceries. Has the Wilson moved out yet?"

"Pfft," House dismissed. "He's like a stray cat. Once you let him in he just doesn't leave."

Dominika chuckled as she placed a kiss on House and Etta's cheek and rose to her feet. "See you guys when you get home." She collected her purse that hung from the handle bars of the pram before sauntering out of the office, leaving House and Etta together.

Ettas eyes darted around the room as she sucked on her fathers sky blue shirt collar. Taking in the outlay of the office as she stood on her fathers lap, her body supported by Houses hand. He held her close to his chest with his arm as he played with her thick, dark locks. Etta rested her head continuing to suck his shirt as House closed his eyes.

This was just what he needed.


Wilson rummaged through his pocket and collected his key in his clasp as he stood outside Houses door. The faint sound of music could be detected through the door but when he opened it the sound of electric guitars and drums flooded into Wilsons ears. He entered the threshold of the apartment to see House lying on his side on the floor near the fireplace as he played with Etta. Her dark brown hair disheveled from vigorous play as she sat next to her father upon a soft square blanket that had been spread across the living room.

"Nice to come home to some peace and quiet," Wilson called over the sound of the stereo almost tripping on the coffee table that had been positioned out from the sitting area.

"You can hear me, can't you? Besides music helps babies intellectual development," House yelled back.

Wilson removed the strap of his bag and set his key on the table beside the front door."I'm pretty sure it's classical music that does that. Not classic rock."

House grabbed a squeaky toy hammer that was thrown in among the toys that were spewed around the crafted playstation and handed it to Etta who beat it repeatedly on the ground in front of her. "It has the word 'classic' in it, what more do you want from me?"

"Can I turn it down a tad?"

"Nope."

Wilson was positive a neighbor would call round complaining about the noise of 'chelsea daggers' screaming from living room stereo on repeat, but on the other hand if they did call round nobody in the apartment would hear them. Wilson collapsed on the couch exhausted. Finally home after a long day.

He had asked almost everybody who had a pulse in the hospital to identify the woman in the photo that he had, unknown to House, saved on his phone but had made no progress. However as he observed House and Etta playing on the floor, music bursting out so loud that the vibrations could be felt within Wilsons chest, he realized that it was irrelevant who was Etta's mother. Wilson of course had not finished meddling, not even nearly. But from the looks of things all Etta would ever need was House.