House stood up a little stiffly after he was doubly and triply sure she was asleep. He ran his hand down his bad leg, trying for the thousandth time to rub away the deep ache. It was a little deeper than usual - than the new usual, and he pulled out his pain diary to double check when he had last taken the methadone. He always kept the little notebook with him these days, and he grudgingly had to admit that keeping a constant - fairly constant - note of pain levels, timing, and circumstances had proven very revealing.

At the moment, it told him that he had been a little late taking his afternoon dose, and he wasn't due for more for about two hours. The muscular tension of this day was just getting to him. With a sigh, he pulled out a pen and jotted down, "8:00 p.m., 6 ½. Surgery for wife today, good bit of pacing. Took a Flexeril." There, that ought to be enough to satisfy MacDonald. The pain management specialist was seen only every other week at this point, and he had even mentioned last time maybe going to monthly face-to-face visits soon, but House still was required to call in every week and read the pain diary to MacDonald. His next call would be next Tuesday, at which point he would bring MacDonald up to speed on everything. He had missed a couple of entries the last two days, but that was surely understandable. With gentle prompting from Kutner and from Cuddy herself twice, he hadn't really gotten off track with the methadone, no more than an hour or so. He pulled out his pill container, retrieved a Flexeril from the fourth compartment which held a few p.r.n. pills, and gulped it dry.

The white cat watched him with her intense golden eyes, and when he started for the door, she stood. Then she hesitated and curled back down again, next to Cuddy. House grinned. Her feline expression of war between divided responsibilities almost reminded him of Cuddy at the moment. "I'm all right," he assured her. "Just going to make a phone call in the living room. You stay here." Belle considered and did stay where she was, but as House reached the door, she meowed sharply. "I won't close it," House told her. He didn't want to, anyway, wanting to keep one ear on Cuddy himself. She was unlikely to need anything for several hours, but even so, he didn't want a barrier between them. He would have stayed in the bedroom himself for the call if he weren't afraid of disturbing her.

Heading into the living room, he paused to touch the piano, then went over to the couch. It took a few minutes to settle himself in firmly and get his leg propped up; nothing quite seemed comfortable tonight. Finally, he called Jensen.

The psychiatrist answered promptly. "How's Dr. Cuddy?"

"She's doing fine. We're home, and she's asleep. They only gave her light anesthesia this morning, but she's had a rough day even so. That PT evaluation…" He trailed off.

"Hold on a minute." Jensen was a little surprised that House was rolling straight into things, not even giving him time to move to a more private location. House heard his low comment to Melissa and Cathy, then footsteps, then the door of the study closing.

"They don't mind, do they?" he asked.

"No. I actually came home early this afternoon, between you and the one right before you both cancelling. So we've had a good family spell today already." Jensen half expected House to ask why the previous patient had cancelled, even knowing that he most likely wouldn't get an answer. House liked to try to catch Jensen out on confidentiality when he had a chance. He'd never succeeded at it, but he did try.

Tonight, though, he went straight back to the topic foremost in his mind. "This is going to be tough on Lisa."

"Yes, it is. It will only make it worse that from what you said the fall was pure carelessness."

"Yeah. She was going too fast, trying to do too many things at once. As usual."

"She still hates making any mistake, I know. But she will be okay. Just remember that. Yes, she'll give herself a hard time over this and probably you and the girls also to some extent, just in her frustration spilling over. But it wasn't too bad of an injury, she'll improve, and she's going to be fine."

"I know." House paused to remind himself again medically that that was true and to lean against that reassuring fact.

Jensen gave him a minute. He could tell how tightly wound House was tonight. Any threat to his happy family, whose existence was still fairly new for him compared to the rest of his life, got him rattled. The physical threat to Cuddy, even if it was now moving on by, was the largest piece of all this for House himself to handle. Finally, when House's breathing was starting to slow a little, Jensen asked, "What did you start to comment on about the PT assessment?"

"Just her frustration. She was grading herself. You could see her do it. She's never had a cast on a leg before or had to use crutches, and of course it takes a while to get the hang of them, but she was getting annoyed that she wasn't an instant expert."

"I'm sure she was. What else?" Jensen pushed a little.

House sighed. "That was…hard. Watching her. Wanting to help. I kept having to remind myself that it was just a small injury, that she wouldn't be…"

"That she wouldn't wind up with a chronic condition and constant pain like yours," Jensen finished after a moment of silence.

"Yeah." House shook his head. "I know, medically, that she's going to be okay. I know that this will get better. It isn't going to be like…me. But I'm…"

"It's perfectly normal to still worry about that, especially from your perspective. You know what chronic pain is like. Of course you don't want that for someone you love."

"I'm a doctor," House said. "I ought to be able to accept the medical facts better than I am."

"Weren't you just talking about her grading herself on a class she's never had to take before? You're enrolled right along with her, Dr. House. Injuries to your family are not something where you can just plug in the appropriate medical facts and have done with it. Of course there's emotional overlay here. There would be for anyone, and there especially is for you. You went too many years with no family to speak of. This is perfectly normal, Dr. House. But you will both - she will and you will - get better. This is a bump in the road in the overall scheme of things, a tough several weeks, but things will improve. And even while they are difficult, she's safe. Your family is safe."

House closed his eyes, leaning against that statement for a few moments.

"How's Thornton handling it?" Jensen asked when the silence had lengthened.

House smiled. "If you think I'm a little wound up, you should have seen him during that surgery."

"I'll bet. He has the same risk-to-family button you do, for slightly different reasons. But what he's mainly worried about is somebody dying, based on his own experiences. He should settle down pretty quickly once the surgery is past."

"He did," House admitted. "He seemed almost back to himself by this afternoon."

"I'm sure he's having to reassure himself somewhat tonight, too, but yes, he'll snap back. But I was going to say, you can use that steadiness of his. You and Dr. Cuddy both. Let him help with the girls. Maybe even try to talk to him a little yourself. I know you're still working on that, but it could help in the next few weeks, for you and for Dr. Cuddy. Of course, talk to each other, too. Don't try to pretend you aren't shaken up by this; that will help give her permission to be fighting emotions herself. And don't shut the girls out, as much as they are capable of understanding. Try to go through this together as a family. It will help."

Together. It was still such a strange word, something that House marveled at privately. He had a family. Cuddy, through thick and thin. The girls. Even the old man now.

Which reminded him of Stacy and that forgiveness thing. Had he done it right with the old man, or was this all still looming out there ready to explode again into full flames and interfere with that very slow progress at some point? His reaction to Stacy yesterday had startled him. What if that happened with Thornton? Forgiveness. Talk about a class he'd never been enrolled in in his life up until recently. He sighed.

"What?" Jensen asked.

House dribbled his fingers on his good leg. "Nothing," he said.

Predictably, Jensen called him on it. "No. There's something there. Talk about it or not, but we aren't going to pretend it doesn't exist now that I know it does."

"I'm not ready to talk about that part yet," House said.

Jensen accepted that. "All right, but just know that I won't forget it."

"I know. I actually…I need to talk about it with Lisa first. Then I'll talk to you. But I haven't been able to talk to her the last two days because…"

"The injury." Jensen could definitely see that. "So it doesn't involve her injury."

"No, it doesn't. Just at the same time. But I need to talk it over with her." He really wanted Jensen's opinion here, but Cuddy had to come first.

"Okay, Dr. House. Talk to her in a few days. But for tonight, I think you're probably exhausted once you allow yourself to feel it."

House looked along the couch at his feet, suddenly feeling like he was sinking into the cushions. "I'm a little tired," he admitted.

"Just go to bed, Dr. House. And keep reminding yourself this is temporary. You and Dr. Cuddy and your family are going to be just fine. You'll have a few rough weeks, but you are strong enough to get through them together."

House slowly moved his leg over, working to a sitting position instead of sprawled out. "You'd better get back to your family."

"I will. Good night, Dr. House."

"Night, Jensen." House hung up, then slowly pried himself to his feet. A check on the girls, who were sleeping peacefully, and a check on Cuddy, and then he softly played the piano for a little while, sticking with her serenade but slowly, quietly tonight, leaning against the notes, reassuring himself with the song, even if it lacked the usual energy. Finally, when it was near enough time, he took the evening dose of methadone, jotted down a final note in his pain diary ("Took methadone, 5"), and went to bed. Belle moved over to station herself on his leg, and sooner than he had expected, he fell into sound sleep.