On the sixth month anniversary of his sobriety, House sneaks out of work in the middle of the afternoon. He has plans to ditch clinic duty and go bowling with Wilson to celebrate the milestone. He's certain Cuddy is also planning dinner for him later in the evening, like she's done every month on this particular date. Last month she went all out and baked the most delicious mac and cheese he ever tasted. She perfected the recipe just for the occasion and it was so good that he swore off making fun of her cooking for the foreseeable future.

Plus, there will be dirty-sticker-chart related after-dinner activities once Rachel is asleep, which is unsurprisingly the thing he's most excited for.

When he arrives at Cuddy's to grab his bowling bag from the closet, Marina is in the kitchen, putting away some of the dishes. "Hey," he says as he walks by her towards the bedroom.

"Dr. House— I'm so glad you're here."

"I'm not here," he tells her. "If anyone asks, I'm in the clinic wiping snotty noses and other even more disgusting body parts."

"Right," Marina laughs, used to his antics by now. "Got it."

"Wait," he processes, turning around to face her. "Why are you glad I'm here, even though I'm not?"

"Rachel has been upset all afternoon," she explains. "I have a feeling something happened at school, but she won't tell me what. I sat with her for a while— she's doing her homework now."

His priorities shift instantly, bowling quickly forgotten, an important puzzle in front of him. "She didn't say anything at all?" he asks, on the hunt for clues.

"No, I kept trying, but she wouldn't talk about it. I was hoping maybe she'll tell you. If not, I want to make sure Dr. Cuddy at least knows when she gets home."

Rachel adores Marina and normally talks to her nonstop— if she's so upset that she won't even tell someone she trusts completely, something must be really wrong.

He devises a new plan. "You can head out early," he tells Marina. "I'll stay with Rach for the rest of the afternoon."

"Are you sure? Her nose is probably just as snotty as the ones you were trying to avoid."

"Oh, it definitelyis. Probably worse."

"At least it's cuter?"

"Exactly," House agrees. "Her one saving grace."

As Marina gathers her things to leave, he heads towards Rachel's room. He opens the door and sees her sitting on the couch, knees pulled up to her chest. "Hey, kid."

She looks up, surprised to see him. "How come you're here?"

"Uh— that's pretty harsh, dude. I don't know if you've noticed, but I practically live here."

"I meant it's work time."

"Wilson and I are going bowling."

"Oh, okay."

She doesn't ask why they're going in the middle of the day or if she can come with them, which is highly suspicious. He sits down on the couch next to her. "What's up with you?" he asks bluntly.

She gives him a tiny shrug. "Nothing."

"Rachel, come on. I know you better than that. I could tell the second I walked in here that you're upset."

She stares blankly at him, not saying a thing.

"You can tell me," he encourages. "You know all my secrets. It wouldn't be fair if you didn't tell me yours."

"I know your secrets?" Rachel questions, not sure what he's referring to.

"Duh," he says, drawing out the single syllable. "You were there for me when my patient died, and I was being kind of a jerk. You were there when I was sick from being a dummy and taking too much medicine. You know what my 'fraction' looks like even though I try to hide it most of the time. And you know that I like snuggling with your mom all weekend, which no one at work can ever know about."

"How come no one can know?"

"Because then they wouldn't be scared of me anymore. Do I look scary when I'm all snuggled up with her?"

"No," she admits. And then, the truth. "David was being mean today, but I don't know if he's right."

"He was being mean to you?"

"Yes."

Kids are cruel— House believes that's an inevitable part of growing up. But the thought of some brat being cruel to Rachel, who has Cuddy's empathetic heart and would never purposely hurt anyone, fills him with rage. "Before I decide how I'm going to kill him, tell me what he did."

"We're making family trees at school. As our project for this week."

"Right," House follows along.

"Before we started, Ms. Anderson was reading a book about all different kinds of families. She was talking about how some people just have a mom or just a dad or two dads or two moms and some people live with their grandparents and some are adopted."

"Covering all the bases—smart. That's why your mom pays the big bucks."

"I said I was adopted, and David said…" Rachel trails off like it hurts her too much to finish the sentence.

"What did he say?"

"He said that means no one wanted me. He said people get adopted when no one else wants them and so their parents get stuck with them."

As angry as he is, House forces himself to take a breath before he speaks, because he knows this is an important topic. He feels a protective desire to make sure the thought doesn't fester in her brain for one second longer than it already has. "You have no idea how untrue that is. Your mom wanted you so much."

"Are you sure?" Rachel presses.

How could he begin to describe it to her? The days where Cuddy carried around heartbreak so heavy that it made her accessible to him — it made him able to reach her in their shared loneliness and misery.

"I'm very sure," he says. "She wanted you so much it used to drive me crazy. I'd be like 'okay, Cuddy, shut up, we get it already.'"

He has her rapt attention and wants to make good use of it. He doesn't know the last time anyone depended on him for reassurance (that's what Cuddy and Wilson are for)— but sitting with her and talking it through as honestly as possible feels right.

"She wanted to be a mom for a long time, but she didn't have to adopt you," House continues. "She did it because she wanted to. It was like as soon as she saw you she didn't just want to be a mom, she wanted to be your mom specifically."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. And I know for a fact that she's told you this before. You shouldn't ever believe some idiotic kid over your mom. Don't fall for what bullies want you to believe about yourself."

"He is an idiot," Rachel agrees.

"And by the way, not being adopted is extremely overrated. Think about it. Your mom isn't adopted. Is your grandma nice to her?"

Rachel doesn't need long to consider that question. "No. She's so mean to her."

"Exactly. I'm not adopted. My dad was mean to me."

"He was?"

"Yup. All the time. Is your mom nice to you?"

"Yes."

"Other parents are the ones who are 'stuck' with whatever stupid looking baby they pop out. David is probably jealous because his mom doesn't even like him because he's a buttface. And also she's an ugly loser and your mom is a hot boss so..."

She laughs a little at his juvenile rant.

"If David has anything else to say about you, you should tell him that his mom had him on accident and his dad ran for the hills so he's technically the unwanted one."

"What about you?" Rachel asks.

"I'll happily tell David that myself."

"No," she says. "I mean— did you want me?"

It takes House by genuine surprise. Not once in the entire conversation did he ever consider that she could be wondering and worried about him, too. Now that he realizes she is, he feels in way over his head. It's too late to back out, to change the subject, or even call someone else for help.

He thinks about the ugly truth — how he selfishly didn't want Cuddy to have a kid. He wanted her to be happy, he just didn't want her to feel happiness without him. He remembers being shocked at how much he felt that Christmas when he stood next to her over Rachel in the maternity ward — as it turned out, witnessing the woman he loves fulfill her dream was enough to move his normally immovable heart.

If only he knew then how much he'd come to benefit from Cuddy's dream.

"Your mom and I weren't dating when she adopted you," he says honestly. "We were friends, so I wasn't part of the decision. She wanted you so much she wasn't going to wait around for anyone's help, especially mine. She doesn't need anyone's help. For anything. Do you get what I mean?

"I think so," Rachel considers. "But I don't remember not knowing you."

"That makes sense. We started dating when you were still in diapers. Which I changed, by the way. I obviously want you in my life otherwise I wouldn't have done something so gross. That's what matters. The part where I want you in my life now, not that the diapers were gross."

Rachel gets up from the couch and walks over to her backpack. She unzips it, pulls out a folder, and then very carefully removes a piece of construction paper. She runs back to him and hands it over. "But is this wrong?"

He looks down at the family tree she's building, floored by what he sees. The sturdy trunk and flowing branches. On one side— Mommy. Aunt Julia. Grandma. The Grandfather she never got to meet.

And on the other side? House. Uncle Wilson.

House has never felt like he even had his own family tree. Or, if he did, that it was hollow and cracked and unsteady. He's an only child. He loves his mom, but she barely talked about her family (the way she barely talked about anything important). He grew up knowing his dad wasn't really his dad (which wouldn't have mattered if he had bothered to act like a father). His biological dad was a well-guarded secret. To this day he doesn't know anything about that side of the family, and frankly doesn't care to.

He feels comfortable being tethered to Rachel's branch, flanking Cuddy on the other side. He's not sure what Cuddy would think about it, but he's not going to correct Rachel's assumption.

"No," he tells her. "This… isn't wrong."

Rachel smiles, satisfied by his answer.

The moment threatens to overwhelm him, so he tries to steer them back to safety in a way that also might cheer her up. "Do you want to come bowling with us?"

"Yeah!" Rachel exclaims, sounding like herself for the first time in the conversation. "But I'm supposed to do my homework."

"You want my advice? Sometimes when you've had a bad day, it's important to do something fun first— to make yourself feel better. I can help with your homework when we get back."

Rachel lunges forward and hugs him.

—/—

Wilson is a good sport about the unexpected addition to their outing— the first thing he does is tell Rachel how excited he is that she's joined them.

House doesn't use bumper lanes for Rachel. Instead, he helps her perfectly line up her neon-blue, six-pound ball to take down the pins. The three of them bowl a full game, with House beating Wilson by a measly three points thanks to a well-timed spare.

As they're getting ready to reset for the second game, House can sense Cuddy's arrival. He doesn't know how he does it, but he can always tell when she's in a room, even without seeing her. He turns around, loving the juxtaposition between Cuddy standing in her expensive dress, heels, and pearls and the run-down bowling alley. While Wilson distracts Rachel, House limps over to her.

"I got your text," she says, frantically grabbing his arm. "Is Rachel okay?"

"She's fine," House assures her. "Some dipshit at school was giving her a hard time about being adopted."

He watches as the fierce mama bear rises to the surface. "Are you kidding me? Do you know who? What did they say?"

"It was David. Apparently they were learning about families and he told her adopted kids are unwanted."

"That kid is such a jackass," Cuddy fumes. "Did you know he pushed Lara on the bus last week?"

"Demon."

"I need to talk to Rachel. I don't want her to think…she can't think that…"

"She doesn't," House says. "I talked to her, and she understood. She's been having a really good time for the last hour and I don't know if you want to remind her about it now. Maybe talk to her tonight?"

For perhaps the first time, House has a real parenting opinion that he says out loud. He doesn't know if he's supposed to, but Cuddy doesn't seem to mind. Instead, she appears comforted. "You're right," she agrees. "I'm really glad you were there so she didn't have to worry about it all afternoon."

"See?! So many good things come out of me skipping clinic duty."

"To be clear, that's not the lesson we're taking away from today."

"Speak for yourself," he jokes. "Want to play a game or two with us?"

She glances over at Wilson and Rachel. "I guess since I'm already here, it does look like you're having fun."

He grabs her hand and leads her over to their lane. Rachel lights up when she sees her. "Mom! House helped me get a strike!"

"He did?! That's amazing."

"Let's play in teams," House decides. "Cuddy and Wilson versus me and Rach. Hope you two are ready to lose to a cripple and a five-year-old."

Cuddy sticks her tongue out at him. "Dream on, House. You two are going down."

House sticks his out right back.

There's no way he'd rather celebrate.

Aside from the dirty-sticker-chart, of course.

—/—

He doesn't sleep well that night even though Cuddy is filled with pride. Not only did he make it to six months sober, but he got through to Rachel at a time it truly mattered. He should feel accomplished in more ways than one, but he feels uneasy instead.

At work the next day, House sneaks into Wilson's office to use his computer (on incognito mode), so that nobody finds out the question he wants answered. It's something he wants to keep to himself for now, given the gravity and potential consequences.

Unfortunately, that plan goes awry when Wilson walks into the office unexpectedly. "What the hell are you doing here?" House asks when he sees him.

"What am I doing in my office? Gee, House, I don't know…"

"I checked your schedule. You're supposed to be in a meeting until noon."

"Got cancelled," Wilson says, walking closer to the desk. "So stop watching porn on my…."

House quickly slams the laptop shut, but not before Wilson sees what's on the screen. "Oh my god. Are you thinking about adopting Rachel?!"

"No," he denies, even though he's been caught red-handed.

"Yes, you are!"

"Shut up. I'm not."

"This is amazing. I might cry."

Hearing it out loud irritates him because he's still working through his own feelings. "No, seriously, shut the hell up. I can't adopt her, so you can't tell Cuddy."

"Why not?"

"Swear you won't tell Cuddy. I'm not kidding around here."

"I swear I won't tell her," Wilson promises. "But why can't you adopt Rachel?"

"Are you kidding me? There are a thousand reasons."

"Name one," he challenges.

"I have a record."

"You mean the Tritter stuff? You weren't convicted of anything."

"Because Rachel's mom perjured herself," House notes ironically.

"Which is one of the many reasons you're perfect together."

"I still have a misdemeanor charge," House reminds him. "I was in contempt of court. I went to jail."

"For one night. Do misdemeanors affect adoption?"

"That's what I was looking into," he reluctantly opens the computer back up to read from the website. "It says 'the department may deny a person's application to adopt a child if either of the prospective adoptive parents has committed an offense for which incarceration is a sentencing option.'"

"I think they're only talking about felonies though," Wilson reads over his shoulder. "It also says it varies by state."

"If a judge looked at me, as a person, they would not conclude that I'm a responsible adult who can care for a child."

"That seems dramatic, especially when you're already caring for this child. You should consult with a lawyer, there are experts on this for a reason."

Maybe House would consider it, if his record was the only thing that made him unsuitable for such an important job. "I relapsed six months ago. That's recent. It wouldn't be fair to anyone when I'm not…stable."

"Six months is a long time when you were sober for three years before that too," Wilson argues. "You can't punish yourself forever for one mistake. And in this case, you'd be punishing Cuddy and Rachel, too."

House doesn't agree, but he also can't get Rachel's words out of his mind. They've been replaying over and over and over. "Yesterday I was telling Rachel about how much Cuddy wanted to adopt her, and she asked me if I did, too. The truth is we all know I didn't want Cuddy to adopt because I wanted all her attention on me."

"Yeah, but it wasn't because you didn't want her to be a mom. It was because you thought it meant you wouldn't get your chance with her. Look how wrong you turned out to be."

House barely hears him though. "I gave Cuddy so much shit about that case, too. I accused her of getting invested for selfish reasons. I never would've gone looking for some random, abandoned baby of my soon-to-be-dead patient."

"I'm not sure that's true," Wilson says. "You connect with patients all the time, even though you pretend you don't. I think maybe you would've gone after Jack or his sister."

His heart sinks at the mention of Jack, reminding him of that failure, and the multitude of failures that surrounded it. "When I didn't show up at Rachel's recital, she was smart enough to ask why I didn't come see her and then go back to work. You think she's not going to eventually ask why I didn't take any kind of real responsibility for her while I lived in her house and relied on her mom for everything?"

"Right," Wilson concedes. "So then take responsibility."

It's too big a step for now, and nothing Wilson says will change that, but maybe there's a compromise to be made. "If I make it to a year sober, I'll consider talking to a lawyer. Just to see if it's an option."

"When you make it a year sober," Wilson corrects.

House hopes he's right. He genuinely hopes he's still sober in another six months. He wants that more than the Vicodin. That's progress, in and of itself.

—/—

Seven months into his sobriety, House goes to Rachel's piano recital. He's filled with nervous energy and shows up unnecessarily early, but Cuddy goes along with it, encouraging his excitement. They sit shoulder to shoulder, and this time House is the one holding the camera.

Rachel plays beautifully, as he expected, and waves to them as she leaves the stage.

They go out to dinner to celebrate— just the three of them. House tells the waiter it's Cuddy's birthday even though it's not because it's the perfect way to embarrass her and also get a free dessert. Rachel thinks House tricking them into believing it's Cuddy's birthday is the funniest thing that's ever happened. She eats way too much chocolate cake, and House has to wipe it off her fingers and face all the way home.

—/—

On the eight-month anniversary of his sobriety, House goes to the cemetery to visit Jack's gravesite. Personally, he thinks it's a nonsensical thing to do— what difference could standing above a decomposing body make? But his new therapist thinks it will be cathartic, and Cuddy unfortunately agreed.

So he stands in front of the gravestone, Cuddy a few feet behind him, and mutters two words: 'sorry' and 'thanks.' He feels both of those sentiments equally.

House is still sorry for not saving Jack, even though he's come to accept that he couldn't have medically done anything differently, which has allowed him to slowly let go of the guilt.

He's also grateful. Not that he relapsed, but for the way things turned out. He's not stupid enough to believe everything happens for a reason or selfish enough to think the reason a child died is so he could get closer to Cuddy and Rachel. They are closer, though. They're tested, too.

After a few minutes, Cuddy steps forward, puts a bouquet of flowers down on the grave, and kisses House on the cheek.

He promised he would try.

This is him trying.

—/—

During the ninth month of House's sobriety, they go on their family trip. Rachel is scared of the plane until House explains the mechanics of flying. She's like him in that way, she needs to understand how things work in order to trust them. House teaches her about the laws of motion, and she listens intently even if it goes a little bit over her head.

For a full week he has the beach, incredible food, Cuddy in a tiny bikini, and drinks in a hammock. They people-watch at the pool while House makes fun of strangers. He takes Rachel on the water slide again and again, even though it involves him carefully limping up to the top, making sure he doesn't slip.

House gets his dream vacation.

And yes, Cuddy gets House out of the hammock.

—/—

House is struggling during the early weeks of his 10th month of sobriety. He's trying to learn how to identify what triggers bad periods like this, but sometimes it happens without explanation. Sometimes he's simply in a bad mood because his leg hurts and sometimes it makes him angry at no one and everyone all at once.

He's home alone one morning, struggling to get out of bed, because even the simple act of sitting up is a battle. Instead of reaching for something to cut himself with for temporary relief, he grabs his sobriety coin— Rachel's treasure — and twirls it between his fingers.

He looks at the initials written on it.

RC

LC

GH

Suddenly it bothers him— the asymmetry of it. The way the H throws it off the Cs for no good reason.

His phone pings with a message from Cuddy: Are you okay? Take your time coming in. No new case yet anyway.

She makes everything simple and better. She reminds him to put one foot in front of the other, to be brave enough to get up on the days it feels impossible.

For better or worse, she's with him. She's with him even when she's not physically there, in every decision he makes. She's the voice in his head telling him he can do everything he doubts is possible.

Maybe it's time he makes sure she knows exactly how much that means to him. Maybe it's time he makes it clear that he knows she's committed, and that he's committed, too.

Maybe he needs to ask the only question left to ask.

—/—

He plans a night he knows Cuddy will love — a night that's quintessential them in every way. It'll start with a walk at her favorite waterfront park, the one they often take Rachel to when they need an escape from Princeton. Then dinner at Dominica's, a place that holds so many memories of the early days of their relationship. Afterwards, they'll end up at a jazz club where they've spent several weekend evenings dancing and losing themselves in the music.

But then… his leg. His fucking leg. He's trying to get ready, to put on the suit he's picked out, the one Cuddy loves on him, but he has to bite his lip to stifle the pain. The spasm in the muscle makes the joint stiffen and refuse to cooperate with him.

Cuddy walks into the bedroom and sees him struggling. "We're not going to dinner," she concludes.

"Yes, we are."

He was determined to make this happen, as if he could force the pain away by sheer willpower. He's still holding onto that, even though he should know better by now. The worst pain will always come on the most inconvenient days.

"It's okay, House. We can just go tomorrow."

"No. Not tomorrow. I want to go tonight."

"It's not a big deal," she says casually.

"I hate this. I hate it more than anything."

She recognizes and acknowledges his frustration, even if she doesn't understand why he's so worked up over what she assumes is one, simple dinner. "I know," she says. "Some days what your mind wants isn't going to match what your body can do. The best part about this relationship is that we can have fun together anywhere. I don't care if we go out. We can still have a good night right here."

"You're right," he admits. "We can."

"My dad always said it was important to find someone you can have fun with no matter the circumstances."

"And his 'fun' choice was Arlene?" House scoffs. "I mean, their union obviously worked out for me, but I'm not sure how much I trust his advice in this area. No offense."

"Maybe he gave me that advice because he didn't make a fun choice and he wanted one for me."

If Cuddy's dad were alive, House wouldn't ask for his blessing. But the mention of him now is timely to say the least, and also gives him the insight he needs. They can have fun anywhere, and that's part of what makes them work so well. He should've been focused on that as soon as he made this decision. "If I order take-out from Dominica's, can you go pick it up for us?"

"Of course!" Cuddy says, relieved he's accepted that they're staying in. "Let me go get my phone so we can pull up the menu."

After they order and Cuddy leaves to get the food, House limps into the living room to find their scrabble board. One of his most impressive skills is being able to predict what Cuddy will do before she does it, before she even thinks about doing it. The fact that he's so confident this new idea will work only emphasizes that he's making the right choice. He takes the ring box out of his pocket, and then puts the ring at the very bottom of the bag of scrabble tiles.

When Cuddy gets home, they eat with Rachel, and he realizes it's much better this way. Rachel has been such a big part of their relationship; he doesn't even know what it would look like without her. It's only right for her to be with them for a portion of this night. After dinner they play with her in her room for a little while (House stays seated, and keeps the heating pad on his leg), and then put her to bed together. The nerves set in after that, but House leads Cuddy back to the living room where the scrabble board is already set up on the coffee table.

"You up for a game?" He asks.

"I'm always up for kicking your ass at scrabble."

He sits down on the couch, and she sits on the floor on the other side of the table. In an ideal world, the positions would be reversed so that he could look up at her, but this reminds him of their very first day together. There's something romantic about that.

House plays a normal game at first, because he doesn't want her to get too suspicious too soon. But then he puts his plan into motion and plays the word Will.

"Someone's having a bad night," Cuddy teases, because she's used to him playing obnoxiously big words and rubbing it in her face.

"Don't worry, I'm about to stage a comeback."

But on his next turn, he plays the word You.

"A comeback with a six-point word?" She writes down his score. "You're really off your game."

"Don't get cocky. Pride goeth before the fall."

His next turn is perhaps the most important. He puts the word Marry down on the board.

This time, Cuddy has no witty remark. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What're you talking about?"

She looks panicked, intrigued, and confused all at once. "Fuck off, House. This isn't funny."

He stifles a laugh, because her cursing at him right now is amazing in so many ways.

"Don't read into it," he plays dumb a little too well, admittedly enjoying how he's messing with her head. "I have bad tiles."

"Okay," she concedes, playing the word rummage. She's distracted, though. Never taking her eyes off him. "Your turn."

He adds Me to the board.

"House."

The timing worked out perfectly, because she's just run out of letter tiles. "Looks like you need some more tiles out of the bag. Might want to see what's in there."

She eagerly flips the whole bag upside down, watching the ring fall out. She picks it up, mouth agape. "Lobe," House says, as she examines it in awe. "I want to marry you."

"This is…. a real ring."

"Yup. Got it from a real jewelry store and everything."

Cuddy stands up with so little grace that she almost knocks the board off the table. She walks around to the couch, wanting to be as close to him as possible. She sits down on his lap, avoiding his bad thigh, and wraps her arms around his neck. "Yes."

He laughs at her excitement, and the pureness of her energy. "I know you're in shock, but what I just said was a statement. I didn't even get to the question yet."

"I don't care. I want to marry you, too. The answer is yes."

"Typical control-freak-Cuddy. Won't even let me finish my damn proposal."

He takes the ring from her and slips it on her finger. He doesn't ask if she's sure, he doesn't doubt her, he doesn't remind her that she's committing to forever with an addict. He lets them have a moment where they don't worry about what life has thrown at them, or what might be up ahead. He leans in and kisses her.

"Does your leg really hurt?" She wonders when they part. "Or did you say that to get us to stay home?"

"My leg is killing me. The plan for tonight was originally different. I came up with this when you went to get the food."

"But it was so perfect," she looks at the scrabble board. "We're saving this forever."

Most of the time his leg makes life worse, and forces adjustments that no rational person would want to make.

But, just this once, it may have inspired an improvement.

—/—

Cuddy is deliriously happy, and she can feel House's happiness, too. She feels it every morning when she wakes up in his arms and every night when they fall asleep talking about the future. Yet she has a heightened awareness that absolute, uninterrupted bliss is inevitably fleeting. It doesn't scare her, nor does it stem from a pessimistic life view. She'll be truly happy as long as she has Rachel and House, but periods where they're this carefree can't last forever. That knowledge emboldens her to grab hold of every moment of it.

Five weeks after House's proposal, bolstered by the confidence she feels in them, she walks into his office with a proposition of her own in mind. "Hi," she says. "I have a question for you."

"What's up?" He asks, putting down lab results.

"Do you want to get married?"

"Nope," he answers sarcastically. "I'm glad you brought this up, because I actually only asked you as a cover to pursue my one true love: Eric Foreman."

"I meant...do you want to get married now?"

"Now?" He glances down at his wrinkled t-shirt. "I'm a little under-dressed."

"Well, obviously not right now. But soon. Like maybe next week?"

"Next week? Why?"

She expected this reaction— she knew he would try to analyze every possible reason she would want to do this sooner rather than later. For her, it's not that complicated. "The real question is why not? What are we waiting for, exactly?"

"You to plan some fancy wedding that will partially bankrupt us, I was assuming."

"I don't want to plan a wedding," she admits. "I want to be your wife. I don't want to waste any more time not being married. I think we deserve this."

The thought of waiting a year just so she can plan a party fills her with exhaustion and dread. She doesn't want to deal with her sister or her mother or the hospital donors and board members who act entitled to the most precious and intimate parts of her life. She doesn't want the superficial. She only wants to celebrate with the people who have believed in them all along.

"Are you sure?" House pushes. "I thought you were a sucker for the white gowns and stuff. I don't want you to have regrets."

"I'm very sure. If there's anything this year has taught me, it's what's really important. I can still find a nice dress before next week. I was thinking we can do it at the house. With Wilson and maybe your team?"

"Yeah," House smirks that mischievous smirk she's fallen so in love with. "That sounds perfect."

—/—

A week later, during the 11th month of House's sobriety, he vows to forever cherish the only person who has ever truly seen him, the person who taught him what unconditional love means.

Cuddy vows to do the same. And, of course, to love him in sickness and in health.

As if there was any doubt.

—/—

When House hits one year sober, he fulfills the promise he made to himself, the promise that has lingered in the back of his mind for six months. He thought of it often in his darkest moments, picturing what it might be like when he reached this point.

It's a bit easier now because the ring on his finger proves they're already a family and there's only one more official step to take. It's logical and practical, but he also wants it so badly it hurts.

He sets a meeting with a lawyer after work, but it runs late, which in turn makes him late for dinner. When he gets home, Cuddy swings the front door open, looking like she's on the verge of a meltdown. "Where have you been?"

She's not angry, but she is nervous, and he knows exactly why. "I'm sorry. I had a meeting."

"A meeting? You can't disappear on me like that. You know where my mind goes. Especially today of all days."

"I know," he says as he follows her inside.

"The only reason I didn't totally freak out was because Wilson said he knew where you were."

"Did he cave and tell you?"

"No, which is exactly why I've been going so crazy. Where were you that you couldn't tell me?"

"Cuddy, listen…"

"Lobe!" she interrupts, losing patience, and demanding the truth. "Lobe. Lobe. Lobe. Lobe."

House puts his hand on her shoulder, steadying her for what he's about to confess. "I was talking to an adoption lawyer. I didn't want to tell you beforehand, because I didn't want to break your heart if she said I couldn't adopt Rachel."

Cuddy digests the admission, and then she starts laughing, which he's not sure how to take. She drags him out of the living room by the hand. "Where are we going?"

She takes him to the study, where she goes over to her desk and opens the top drawer. She pulls out a bunch of papers and then hands them to him.

House can't believe what he's holding: Adoption papers. Already partially filled out. Somehow they're always on the same page, even when they're not trying to be. "How long have you had these?" he asks in disbelief.

"Since three days after the wedding," she admits. "But I've been thinking about it for a lot longer than that. What did the lawyer say?"

"She said since we're married, everything should go smoothly. I told her what happened with Tritter and being in contempt of court."

"Is that why you went to talk to someone? You were worried about that?"

"Terrified, but she said it shouldn't be an issue."

"So, we're doing this?"

He puts the paperwork down on the desk, takes his sobriety coin out of his pocket, and places it in the palm of Cuddy's hand. "Some days 'this' was the only thing keeping me going."

—/—

On the morning of Rachel's adoption hearing, House leans over the bathroom sink, looking in the mirror and holding a razor against his facial hair. He can't remember the last time he was clean-shaven, but he wants to look as close to a respectable adult as possible.

"Wait," Cuddy appears in the bathroom just as he's about to start shaving. She looks beautiful, dressed in a pastel blue dress with soft curls framing her face. "What are you doing?"

"Attempting to look presentable."

"Don't. If you get rid of your facial hair, Rachel might not recognize you, which could make today very awkward."

He appreciates that she loves him the way he is, he's just not sure the judge will feel the same. "But…"

"But nothing," she steps closer and takes the razor out of his trembling hands. "Why are you shaking?"

"Because I don't want to screw this up."

"You're not going to. There's no need to be someone you're not. That's not how we've made it this far."

She's right about that. Her belief in him is what's gotten them here. He trusts her, because how could he not? She's never lied to him once on this journey. If she were worried about the hearing going wrong, she would tell him, she wouldn't try to shield him from the truth. Luckily, she's confident enough for the both of them.

They join Rachel in the kitchen, where she's waiting and ready to go. She's been anticipating this day for weeks, marking off the dates on the calendar in the kitchen. They've tried their best to let her feel the bigness of what's happening, while also making sure she knows that House is hers, with or without a piece of paper.

When the three of them get to the courthouse, they're met outside by a small group of people who love them. Wilson is there with flowers for Cuddy and Rachel, and emotional support for House. Arlene and Julia are there, even though they're still mad about the impromptu wedding they missed out on, they've been surprisingly supportive throughout this process. Marina is there, excited for the family she's come to care about as her own. House's team is there, too. Chase. Foreman. Thirteen. Taub. Four teasing smiles that mask feelings dangerously close to pride.

Once inside, they're instructed to briefly wait in the hallway. As they do, House catches a glimpse of the judge walking into chambers, and he swears he recognizes her. "Why does she look familiar?" House leans over to ask Cuddy.

"That's Judge Lee," Cuddy whispers back to him. "We've worked with her before. She was the family court judge on one of your cases. She made me the guardian of your patient. Alice Hartman."

"Oh."

He doesn't always remember his patient's names, but he does remember Alice. He remembers her limp in Cuddy's arms in the shower. He remembers telling Cuddy she would suck as a mother. He remembers how wrong he was, and how he's come to regret those unfounded words ever since. What he doesn't remember, though, is his interaction with the judge, or how badly it might come back to bite him now. "How much of an asshole was I to this woman, on a scale of 1-10?"

"I don't think you were an asshole to her. Your arrogance and impatience were at a solid 8, but it's not like she can hold that against you. Nothing says parents can't be arrogant."

"They're supposed to be patient though."

"Don't overthink it."

"She probably won't remember us," House tries to rationalize. "It's been years and she sees dozens of people a day."

But once they're seated before her in the courtroom, Judge Lee quashes that hope immediately. "Dr. House and Dr. Cuddy," she greets them. "It's good to see you again."

"You too, your honor," Cuddy replies.

"It's been a while, but I'm glad to see I was right about Dr. Cuddy's maternal instincts. And I have to confess, I always suspected there was something between the two of you."

The comment earns a few laughs from the family and friends sitting behind them, because they lived through that suspicion in real time. "You weren't alone in that obviously correct assumption," Cuddy says.

House is uncharacteristically silent, afraid to make a single wrong move. He hopes the comment about their relationship means the judge isn't holding any type of resentment towards him, but he's not yet convinced.

"And this must be Rachel."

"Hi," she answers shyly.

"I have to tell you, I've received an unusual amount of letters about this case. And they all have a common theme— every one of them acknowledged that Dr. House is not always necessarily the nicest or friendliest person, which is something I myself have experienced…"

Unexpectedly, Rachel speaks up, interrupting the judge. "But that's not true."

House can't believe what he's hearing. He can't believe that his normally quiet, rule-following Rachel opened her mouth at the worst possible time. "Rachel," Cuddy warns, equally surprised. "Don't be rude."

Judge Lee looks intrigued though. "I'd actually like to hear what she has to say."

"House is nice," Rachel says emphatically. "Sometimes he tells people the truth and they get mad at him but that's not his fault. The truth is good."

"You're right," Judge Lee agrees. "The truth is good. Can I tell you the truth about these letters?"

"Yes," Rachel nods.

"They all come to the same conclusion — that no matter how brash Dr. House is with everyone else, he is entirely devoted to this family. I heard it from friends, co-workers, from Rachel's grandmother and aunt."

House knew Wilson wrote a letter. He didn't know anyone else did. He certainly didn't expect it from Arlene or Julia.

"Rachel," Judge Lee addresses her directly, "would you like Dr. House to be your father?"

"Yes, please," she answers politely. "He already is, but we need the paper."

Straight to the point, just like her dad. Gracious just like her mom.

"So ordered," Judge Lee says, banging her gavel. "Congratulations. To all three of you."

"We did it," Rachel says grabbing House by sleeve of his jacket.

House thinks the we is fitting, because each of them played a vital role in making each other their home.

—/—

There's a knock on Cuddy's office door one morning. She isn't expecting anyone, but it's been a relatively slow day so far, her schedule more open than usual, so she doesn't mind the interruption. "Come in," she says.

"Dr. Cuddy?"

There's a woman in her doorway — brunette, hazel eyes, dressed simply in jeans and a black tank-top. Cuddy knows that she knows her, but can't quite place her. That's not unusual, considering the amount of people she meets and works with. "Yes, hi. Can I help you?"

"You probably don't remember me, but…"

"Oh my god," it comes back as soon as she hears the familiar voice, it transports her back in time to over a year ago. "Violet—Jack and Ella's mom. Of course I remember you."

She looks different than the last time Cuddy saw her, healthier and more confident. It only makes sense, because the last time they were together, it was the worst day of Violet's life. That's when Cuddy also remembers that this is a woman who fled from her abusive husband. "Is everything okay? Are you…"

"Safe?" Violet surmises. "Yes, thankfully I am. I have some news that I was hoping to tell Dr. House, but he wasn't in his office. I thought you might know where he is."

Cuddy briefly wonders if this is a good idea. Her instinct is to put House first, and she worries about triggering him. Whatever Violet has to tell him, it will inevitably remind him of his relapse. Should Cuddy try to shield him? Should she make up a lie about him being elsewhere? It's tempting, but trusting House means trusting that he can handle himself, and that if he can't, he'll let her know. She's also sure he would want to know what Violet has to say, and it's not her place to take that away from him.

"I think he's in the clinic, but I can get him in here for you."

She picks her cell phone up to send him a text: Can you come to my office? I have a surprise for you. (Not that kind of surprise.)

She feels Violet's eyes on her as she types. "Your ring is so beautiful," she observes. "Did you and Dr. House get married?"

"We did. A few months ago."

"That's wonderful. How's Rachel?"

Cuddy doesn't recall telling Violet about Rachel. She doesn't remember telling her she was dating House, for that matter. "She's doing great. House adopted her not too long ago."

"Of course he did," Violet says. "I could tell how much he loves her."

With that simple statement, Cuddy understands more about House's relapse than ever more. House connected with Jack's family enough to share about his own. That's special and incredibly rare.

House opens the door then, and his eyes widen as soon as he sees Violet in the room. "Hi," she says. "It's been while."

House looks shocked, but even more so, concerned. "What are you doing here?"

"I was hoping you'd ask that," Violet grins ear to ear. "Guess who's in jail?"

"What?! Did he come after you?"

"No. He got locked up for assaulting a co-worker. Seven to ten years."

"Finally where he belongs," House says, not hiding his satisfaction. "So, you're back from the wild, wild west then?"

"I don't look that good in cowboy boots. Plus, this is where Jack is."

"Right."

Cuddy doesn't want to interrupt their moment, but as a mom, she feels like Violet would want to know that Jack hasn't been alone. "We've been to cemetery to see him a few times," she says.

Violet is overwhelmed by the gesture. "That's…thank you. You've already done so much for me. That's actually why I'm here." She reaches into her purse and pulls out an envelope. "It's not all the money I owe you, but it's a start. I wanted to give it to you person."

House refuses to take it from her, which doesn't surprise Cuddy in the least bit. "That wasn't a loan," he says.

"I know you didn't ask for it back, but I want to have done this myself."

"You did it yourself," House reassures her. "It was your idea. You're the one who left."

"That's a romanticized version of it. I ran and waited it out."

"No. You were brave at the worst moment of your life."

"You have no idea how much the money helped. It gave me the time I needed to grieve before I had to go find a job."

"Good," House says. "That was the point. I'm not taking it back no matter what you say."

"Fine," Violet accepts. "Thank you."

Cuddy wants nothing more than to hug her. So that's exactly what she does. "Welcome home," she says when they let go. "I think being here is going to be great for you and Ella."

"How is she doing?" House asks.

"She's doing well, all things considered. Now that we're back, maybe she can finally get that play date with your daughter?"

Cuddy can sense it's something they talked about before, that it's an outstanding promise waiting be fulfilled.

"I think we can make that happen," House says.

—/—

One afternoon, five people go to the park.

Violet, who survived. Ella, who lived. House, who recovered. Cuddy, who never gave up. Rachel, who made a home.

Cuddy and Violet become fast friends. They've had drastically different lives, but there's something about them—-at their core—that's the same. They've already been out for coffee and lunch a few times. House is glad because Cuddy needs another mom she can commiserate with.

Oddly enough, House considers Violet a friend, too. He never could've imagined hanging out with the family of his former patient, especially one he lost. He didn't think he could handle something like that, and sometimes it's hard, because he still sees Jack when he looks at Violet.

One day, House tells her that. Violet smiles and says it's a good thing because she wants to keep Jack's memory alive. She wants to remind people of him.

She slips into their lives seamlessly, as if she's always been there. That morning Cuddy made a comment that House knows is going to come back to haunt him: "Do you think Violet would like Wilson?" she asked. House isn't one to play matchmaker, but he can see Cuddy's wheels turning. He considers the question and thinks about how people lie, and they don't change, but they can break destructive patterns. He's living proof of that. Maybe Violet and Wilson could help break each other's cycles. Who better for Violet than gentle, obsessively kind Wilson? Who better for Wilson than someone with such a fearlessly big heart?

At the park, House watches Rachel and Ella play together while Cuddy and Violet talk on a nearby bench. The sun is strong, and he realizes the girls forgot to put on sunscreen. He grabs the bottle out of Cuddy's bag and starts to walk over to them.

As he approaches, he can overhear their conversation.

"Your dad was my brother's doctor," Ella says.

"He was?"

House braces himself for whatever Ella is going to say next, he prepares for her to blame him, the way he blamed himself for so long. Remarkably, she says something else altogether. "My brother died, but it wasn't your dad's fault. I think it was my dad's fault. He was really mean, but we got away from him. My mom says your dad helped us."

House realizes that while there are five people at the park, those who aren't there are felt just as much. House's mom, who didn't leave. Jack, who didn't survive. Both House and Jack's fathers, who failed them so tremendously, whose only contributions were to teach those around them what not to do.

"My dad likes to help people," Rachel says proudly. "But I'm sorry about your brother."

"I miss him, but I'm glad we came home."

"Me, too. I'm happy you're here now."

House stops to consider how happy he is to be there, too. There were many different paths he might've taken that would've ended up somewhere very different, and very dark. He could've lost himself to the pills, he could've given into the pain, he could've chosen not to fight.

Instead, he's a doctor who gets it right more than most, but sometimes still doesn't. He's a husband who didn't believe in the power of familial love, until he experienced it for himself. He's a father at the park with a bottle of sunscreen in his hand, because he worries about his daughter all the time.

This is the story about who he is. Although it twisted and cracked in some places, chapters dragging on longer than they should've, it's authored authentically by him.

And this time?

This time it's entirely true.