at cali: No, I don't have a twitter. I'm a complete social media bum.

at harp: Wow, that was quite the comment XD. We're totally on the same page. I have several more chapters written, and they pick up on a lot of things you mention. So, be patient (both with the plot and with Cuddy ;-D), I don't think you'll be disappointed. Btw, why do you want insight for her (about the break-up) only in this story? Why not in general?

at everyone: Thanks for the kind comments and for cheering me on. Have fun with this chapter! Not sure this is a bit too far over the top, but I was feeling sappy.

Chapter 23

The kids leave House no time to sulk. When he returns to the house that evening, Rachel and John have returned from the birthday party. The moment House steps inside, Rachel shows up in the living room, looking cheerful.

"Where have you been?" she asks him.

"Out."

"Look what we got," she grins, shoving a gift bag full of candy and small toys at him. "Mom says you like lollipops." She rummages around in the bag und pulls out a red one. "You can have it."

At that moment, John comes running from the hallway. "Mine, too." He comes to an abrupt halt in front of House, searching his own gift bag. "It's coke flavored, so way better," he claims, holding it out to House.

"Way not," Rachel refutes.

"I will do my utmost to enjoy them equally," House states, taking the candy from them. "Thank you."

"We're building a fort in my room, you wanna come help?" Rachel asks.

"A tent," John corrects.

Rachel rolls her eyes at him. "A tented fort. Whatever." She tugs on House's hand, pulling him along with them. "Come on."

They are so eager for his attention, constantly dragging him into the moment, that his bad mood eventually dissipates and he ends up having fun playing with them. When they have Rachel's entire room canopied with blankets, the three of them lie underneath and pretend to be somewhere out in the jungle with nothing but the tent and the starry sky above them. House takes a Sharpie and draws star constellations for them on the blanket they are facing.

"You'll get in trouble doing that," Rachel giggles.

"I'm educating you. Your mom should thank me."

"We're not allowed to draw on our stuff," John whispers.

"This is your blanket?" House asks Rachel. She nods. "And I have your permission, right?" She nods again. "There you go. And I'm sure it'll come off. If not, I just made sure you'll never forget Cassiopeia and Orion."

They smile.

At some point, Cuddy calls for John to get ready for bed. House and Rachel stay in her room to tidy up and go over her Spanish homework until she, too, leaves for the bathroom.

House manages not to run into Cuddy all evening, unsure if she, too, is avoiding him, and eventually settles down on the couch with a book. Half an hour later he sees someone approaching out of the corner of his eye, and he expects it to be Cuddy, but when he turns his head, John is standing next to him.

"I cannot sleep," he states. "Will you read something to me?"

House squints his eyes at him, not seeing him clearly through his reading glasses. "Would you believe me if I told you I didn't know how to read?"

John tilts his head. "Why would you say that?"

House sighs. "We really need to work on your skills to detect sarcasm." House puts down his book. "Why don't you ask your mom?"

"Dad used to read to me when I couldn't sleep. Mom reads the bedtime story. And she always falls asleep when she lies down with me."

House grabs his cane and rises from the couch. "There's a lying-down rule?"

"Yup. I want to see the pages, try to read along. You have to go slow." They walk into John's room together.

"That's a lot of conditions, considering you're the one asking for something." John crawls onto his bed. House looks around forlornly. "What's the last thing you were reading?"

"Winterdance." John pulls out a book from his shelf.

House almost whines. "Please don't tell me it's a romantic fairy tale with a happy ending."

John smiles. "Nope. It's about running the Iditarod." He pats the space on the bed next to him, holding the book out to House.

"The sled-dog race in Alaska?" House asks, taking the book and opening it at the bookmark. He drops the bookmark on the floor and settles down on his back.

"Yup." John lies on his back as well, his head resting on House's upper arm.

"You remember what happened last?" House holds up the book so they can both look at it, skimming over the previous pages.

"Yes. He was training for the race with his dogs when he found a deer trapped in a... I don't remember the word. A leash?"

House finds the respective place in the book. "A snare."

"Right. The doe was hanging there and he thought she was dead, strangled in the snare. He cut her free, her head fell into his lap, and he realized she was still breathing. He sat there and patted her neck until at some point she came back to consciousness and looked at him. How cool is that?" John beams. "After a while she got up and walked off."

"That is cool," House nods.

"That's where we stopped. Dad was already sick and he said that this was not going to happen to him. That he'd just get back up and be okay. But that the story proves it can happen, and that I should never loose hope in life."

House internally rolls his eyes. "Wow. He really was a 'grabbing life by the testes' kinda guy, huh?"

"Testes?"

"Testicles. You know? Balls."

"Oh." John ponders. "What are life's testicles and how would he grab them?"

"That's a good question," House chuckles. "I guess for me they'd have to change the sentence to grabbing women's t—" House stops himself, thinking that Cuddy would not approve of this conversation.

"Titties?" John finishes for him, a mischievous grin on his face.

"You didn't hear it from me." House mutters. "I was saying your dad sounds like he was a life affirming guy."

John shrugs. "I guess."

"And you must miss him."

"Not as much as I should. I was hardly here, at home, you know, where he was always around. And he wasn't really my dad. He lied to me about that."

House rests the book on his chest, his finger marking the page. "Your mom did, too."

"Twice the disappointment." John sounds bummed. "I think parents shouldn't be able to lie to their children. It should not even be possible."

"Like an immutable law?" House suggests.

"Immutable?"

"Absolute. Something that can never be changed."

"Yeah. Like that. Like a constant."

House sighs heavily, looking up at the ceiling. "I hear ya."

"Do you have a constant?" John asks.

"I wish." House looks over at him. "Who's yours?"

"Mom used to be."

"Is that why you started getting in trouble at school?"

"Mom told you that?"

"Rache mentioned it. You weren't angry at your classmates, you were angry you lost your constant," House guesses.

John furrows his eyebrows, contemplating House's remark.

"Maybe you don't have to write her off just yet. She told me she wasn't gonna lie to you anymore."

John turns on his stomach, his lower arms resting on House's chest. "Really?"

House nods. "When you asked me if I was your biological dad, I went to her room, remember? To ask her what we should tell you. She said 'I cannot lie to him again.'"

John searches his face for a long time, letting the information sink in.

"I'm sure she's sorry," House says.

John turns back around to stare at the ceiling. "They both were. But how does that help? Why don't people know before they do something that they'll be sorry about it, and just not do it?"

"That's another really good question." House turns his head to John, furrowing his eyebrows. "How old are you again?"

"Eight."

"Gotta work on the concept of rhetorical questions as well," House notes.

"I know what that is," John protests.

"Gotta work on you picking up on when I'm using it as a linguistic tool." House scratches his forehead. "But back to your question: People screw up even when they know better. When we play guitar together, for example, and I miss my cue—"

"You never miss your cue," John interrupts him.

"Good point! Let's say that, hypothetically—you know what that means?"

"Yes."

"Okay, so, hypothetically, I miss my cue although, in theory, I know my cue. Maybe I wasn't paying attention, maybe I thought, just in that moment, that a later start would be better… whatever the reason, what would you do?"

"Try again from the top? Keep playing?"

"Well, first you'd call me on it, right? Look at me funny. Let me know I missed my cue. You wouldn't decide to never play with me again just because I missed it once. You'd expect me to do better next time. And eventually you'd forget that, this one time, I missed my cue. Maybe not forget, but it won't be important anymore."

John turns around to look at House again. "That's forgiveness?"

House raises his eyebrows at him questioningly.

"Dad always said that I should try to forgive them. I never really knew what that meant and how it works."

House smiles. "What do you say I make you my constant? You seem like a pretty straightforward guy."

John smiles back. "I'm a child."

"Children can't be constants?"

"Children know nothing."

"Therefore they can't lie. Foolproof!"

John shrugs, a smirk on his face, and turns on his back again.

"All right. Off to Alaska." House picks up the book and starts to read. "'I was on the run again, working the team along the river, when I started to think of them—the doe and Marge—' who's Marge? His hot girlfriend, waiting for him longingly at home?"

"A lone wolf that ran along with them for a while."

"Hm. 'I started to think of them not as something in the wild, something to be observed, but as good friends that I had come to know and understand.'"

House continues reading even when, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Cuddy pushing the door fully open and approach them. She stands next to the bed, but he turns the book such that his face is hidden behind it, and continues to ignore her. She eventually pushes it down gently, glancing at him over the top. "He's asleep," she whispers, a smile tugging on her lips.

House turns his head toward John. "I know. I was reading to myself," he quips. She bends down to pick up the bookmark and hands it to him. He folds the book closed and places it on the shelf. Cuddy carefully lifts John's head off House's shoulder so he can scoot out from under him.

Cuddy turns off the bedside lamp and they quietly leave the room. In the hallway, she stops by the door to the bathroom and turns around to block his way. "I was looking for you earlier," she says, keeping her voice low. "I overheard part of your conversation," she confesses. She looks at him earnestly. "That was very sweet of you."

House lowers his eyes and simply nods.

Cuddy takes in a deep breath. "House." She looks troubled. "House, I know this probably doesn't help much, and we're already way into the composition, but obviously I missed my cue. With both of you."

House has no idea what to respond to her.

"I missed the mark," she admits. "Way off target."

"You didn't even fire a shot," he states drily.

She closes her eyes briefly, pressing her lips together. "I aimed," she tries to explain. He can tell she feels guilty. "I went by your apartment. Twice. When we were visiting my sister. I parked my car in your street, sitting there for hours… hoping I'd see you go in or come out, get an idea of how you were doing… all the while considering to knock, but I never got out of the car. And when you helped diagnose Michael, and when you were here… I definitely intended to tell you. I just… I was in pieces. And I didn't know how you'd react. So I postponed it. Again." She stares at him with her big blue eyes, holding her breath almost fearfully.

"Okay." He nods, not knowing what else to say.

As he makes his way past her, she gently adds: "Check your phone."

He shoots her a questioning look.

"Good night," is all she whispers before she vanishes into the bathroom.

House sits down on the couch and grabs his phone from the coffee table. He has three new messages. They are all from her. When he opens them, he sees that they are not texts but pictures. Two are from earlier in the day when he played with the kids in Rachel's room, building the tent. House had not even noticed Cuddy enter the room.

The third one is from about half an hour ago, when he was lying in John's bed. It captures a moment in which John is leaning on House's chest and they are facing each other. It is the first picture he has of him and his son, and House cannot help but smile.