A/N: Sorry for the extensive delay. Here's a short tidbit.

A whole lot is going on and is quite likely to keep impacting fanfic schedule. The biggest thing is that my Dad, four years into his battle against stage IV cancer, has a new and very aggressive metastasis to the lungs. He's been hospitalized, ICU for a while. Back home now but not in good shape, and they have a new chemo hopefully starting tomorrow if the drug gets here. It's been ordered. I just this weekend took a fast trip up to see him. Anyway, this does not look good at all right now. That situation is obviously taking a lot of the family's energy and attention. Work has also had a few unusual things popping up and now is currently in the process of going live with six new accounts, so while people have been being hired, we are still likely to be over busy until more people are hired. They are working on it.

Anyway, fanfic isn't on top or even near the top of the list right now. Sorry, but that's the way life goes at times.

For one positive piece of news this last week, Cats, my latest "real" book, has been wending its way through the various publisher steps. It is now in the process of going live itself. I believe that the e-book link is working on Amazon just in the last few days, although the print copy is going to take a few more weeks to get fully assembled and shipped. This is a very different book from Mom's dementia memoir. It is lighthearted, lots of humor. If you are interested in it, the full title is in my profile.

Here's a very short update on "The Other Foot," and sorry it's so short. Today happens to be my birthday. Reviews appreciated; it has been one of the more difficult ones in recent years due to Dad's situation.

At least Cuddy's difficulties are temporary. Really. I'll give you that much of a spoiler alert; this really is a simple broken ankle and isn't going to evolve into surprise medical complications or become her own chronic disability. The main tension in this story is psychological. Of course, to her, these weeks seem like Mount Everest, but plenty of people have made it up Mount Everest by now and returned to tell the tale.

(HC)

Cuddy couldn't believe the pure muscular effort of dragging the cast around with her through a work day, even a very limited work day. By the end of the afternoon, she was exhausted. The plaster bucket around her ankle seemed to have gained weight throughout the day and now had to be at least 50 pounds.

House was a few minutes late arriving at her office but still fairly prompt. She watched him coming through the door, and her eyes narrowed, weighing his gait and his own pain level. He was tired himself at the moment. "Problems with the patient?" she asked.

"He's advancing from interesting but not critical to interesting and thinking about getting worse. Still not critical, but Kutner and Hollingwood are going to stay here for a few more hours running tests."

"You could -"

He cut her off in a tone that brooked no debate. "No. We, meaning both of us, especially you, are going home."

She hauled herself to her feet, balancing carefully. "It does get better," he offered abruptly as they left her office and limped in tandem across the lobby. "Right now, you're still getting used to the crutches, and so are your muscles. In a week, the end of the day will be a lot better than this."

A week sounded like eternity. Six of them sounded even worse. She sighed. "I was thinking, Greg," she started.

"Good. I always tell the team it's a good habit to get into."

She grinned in spite of herself at his teasing tone. "About Friday."

The teasing tone melted like an ice cream cone in July. "So was I." They arrived at the car, conveniently parked in the closest handicapped space, and bilaterally carefully installed themselves into it. "You're going to have trouble driving with the right ankle in a cast, even in a few days when you're getting more used to it."

"Now, I think by Friday, things might be doable. I was trying earlier at my desk. If I tuck the right one back and use my left for the pedals, it could work. Automatic transmission, thankfully." She couldn't help looking down as he stopped at the first light leaving PPTH. As always, he used both feet, the left covering the brake. He flexed his right foot up enough to come off the gas, but he didn't shift his bad leg over.

House shook his head. "I think you need at least a few weeks to even attempt that. Don't try to do things too quickly. But you do need that session Friday."

She couldn't deny that, but her session wasn't the one worrying her. She knew that he needed one himself, even just on this situation, and there was also Stacy added to the mix. He had said already that he wanted to talk to Jensen about her on Friday. "You need yours, too. You can drive up, and I'll just talk to Patterson on the phone."

"In person would be better. But whether you do in person or phone, it still leaves you stuck at the hospital. I have to leave earlier than you do because of the distance."

"Well, maybe Thomas can bring me home."

"Maybe I can talk to Jensen on the phone. We have more practice at it, after all."

She shook her head. "I really think you need to actually see him. There's a lot to talk over." His foot came down just a bit harder on the accelerator than he had meant for it to, but he couldn't deny that fact when he had already admitted this morning looking forward to a thorough session. "I think I can try driving by then, Greg."

"No. Remember, being in a hurry got you into this, Lisa."

"I know that," she snapped, then took a deep breath. Don't let this turn into an argument, she scolded herself. The statement was only the truth.

"Sorry," she said as he stopped at the next stoplight. They both automatically turned toward each other, even though somewhat annoyed right now. They were less annoyed a minute later when they broke apart as the car behind them beeped.

"Maybe I could Skype or something with Jensen," he suggested.

"No, Greg. I won't try driving this week if it will make you feel better, but you need that appointment." She called the roll mentally. "Thomas would be glad to drive me, I'm sure, but he's keeping the girls." She sighed again. "What would we do with the girls in between Marina leaving and me getting home?"

They were another two blocks closer to home when the solution abruptly hit them simultaneously. "The sitter," they said in near unison.

Cuddy laughed. "You know, we handled the girls for a couple of years without Thomas around, Fridays included. I was forgetting about the old system."

"Yep. Of course, we still have to deprive the old man of part of his evening dose of grandkids. But that would work: He drives you, sitter stays with the girls for a short while after Marina leaves until you two get home from Trenton, and I go to Jensen." He looked over at her with a grin, in a better mood now. "But we're not taking him on date night."

Date night. Her own improved mood fell again. "I wish we didn't have to take this cast on date night."

"Hey, now. If you remember, I took a cast along on our very first date," he reminded her.

"That's right. You did. Okay, Greg, after you get home Friday, the two of us and the cast can go out, and Thomas can watch the girls as usual. It's only that short time earlier that a sitter would have to cover."

"Deal," he said, and they solemnly shook on it at the final light before he turned into their street.

Still, Cuddy promised herself, before this six weeks was up, she was going to learn to drive left footed.