Thanks for the reviews, guys! As always, I'm relieved that you enjoyed the last chapter; if you're not happy, I'm not happy, so on and so forth. (My dog just ate a rubber band, for those of you that are interested.) I'm pleased with the general consensus: Len is lower than dirt and should throw himself off a cliff. He's a foil (I learned that in sophomore English – it means a character created to be the polar opposite of another to accentuate their characteristics) for House, therefore proving that our favorite doctor can be a good dad. I was just amazed I had the mind power to think of something like that, but I seem to have been fortunate enough to draw the attention of better writers than myself, so I won't bore them with my elementary discoveries.
I don't own "House, MD."
Now, onto "Turkey Day," more commonly known as chapter 24! For this chapter, I'd like you to remember that this is coming from someone who can mess up a can of Campbell's soup with no effort at all, so if I get some of my culinary procedures mixed up…be gentle. I've never prepared a Thanksgiving dinner before.
"Wake up, wake up, wake up!" Julia sang as she jumped onto House's bed. It was seven o'clock in the morning.
"It's too early," he grumbled, pulling the sheets over his head.
Julia yanked them off. "We're already behind schedule. We're never going to get this done if you don't get your butt in gear."
"Breakfast?" he asked sleepily. "Coffee?"
"All out on the table," she said, tugging at his arm impatiently. "Hurry up!"
"Were you always this pushy?" House wanted to know as he dragged himself out of bed.
"I hid it well, didn't I?" Julia said, smirking. "You have three minutes to pee, brush your teeth, and shower. You can eat breakfast as we go."
House took a good look at his daughter, and it saddened him. She was barely half of who she'd been when he'd met her, now pale and thin. She always looked tired and ready to collapse. He didn't know how she kept going. One of these days, he thought. The idea had been nagging him constantly, and it was getting harder to shove it out of his mind. "How long have you been up?" he asked suspiciously.
"Since five thirty," she admitted. "Come on! I've already got everything set up! It couldn't possibly get any easier!"
"Are you on crack?" House asked. "Five thirty? That means you've only had…" He did the calculations in his mind. "…five hours of sleep!"
"Four," she corrected him. "After you went to be, I stayed up and watched Nick at Night."
He groaned and wandered into the bathroom, taking five times the allotted amount of time for his activities. He came out to find Julia tapping her foot impatiently, though the effect of the gesture was more comical than menacing due to the fact that it was blanketed in a slipper shaped like a bunny. "You think it's funny to not be punctual?" she asked.
"What I think is funny is that you're so excited about a dead bird in the kitchen," he replied as he wandered down the hall to his breakfast. He sniffed the air. "Waffles?" he guessed.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she said. "I couldn't resist breaking out your never-opened waffle iron. That baby can cook like nobody's business. I left yours on the table, steaming hot. The syrup's already there too. And coffee. Because of that little stunt you pulled in there, you only get 30 seconds to eat. I'm going to start washing the animal."
House eyed Julia as she walked to the sink and prepared to take on the turkey they had purchased the day before. He wasn't sure how the whole thing was going to go down, but he was fully prepared to make a run for it if the thing got up and started squawking at them. Judging from all the blood it still had going for it, he was almost sure it couldn't be completely dead…
Julia cut away the wrapper and dropped the meat in the sink. "It's certainly very fragrant," she commented as she rinsed it off. "What do we do after this?"
"What do you do?" he reminded her. "You've cooked your own goose, if you'll pardon a pun."
"A very bad one," she said.
"I think you have to take out all of its internal organs," House told her decidedly.
Julia's face was nothing short of amusing; she looked shocked. "They leave those things in there?" she mouthed.
He shrugged. "They leave something in there."
She shook her head. "Absolutely not. There's no way I'm sticking my hands up that thing's ass."
"Don't tell me we're going to have nothing to serve when all the company gets here," House pleaded, hoping this constituted as motivation. "It would be a shame to have to feed everyone something from Boston Market because you let one little turkey's innards stand in the way."
Julia glared at the turkey, determined not to let it get the best of her. "Alright," she said. "Here goes. I'm gonna gut this animal like a fish." She closed her eyes and stuck one finger into the opening…and immediately pulled it back out. "No way am I gonna be able to do this," she whined.
"Wimp," House said accusingly as he wiped his mouth daintily with a napkin. He stood up and gently pushed her aside. "Watch and learn."
"Wow," Julia said admiringly as House began pulling unidentifiable objects from the turkey's inside. "You've done this before."
He shrugged modestly. "Once or twice."
"Now what?"
"Stuffing," he said. "Make some."
Julia obediently pulled a bowl of already-created stuffing from the refrigerator. "What, you didn't think got up early just to fix you breakfast, did you?" she asked when she caught House's surprised glance.
He shook his head. "You are one sad little girl," he told her as they began to shove stuffing into the brutalized turkey. "Anything else left to do with this poor bird before it's laid to rest?"
"Turkeys are stupid," Julia commented disdainfully. "They drown in the rain because they look up at the sky and get all the drops in their noses."
"I didn't know turkeys had noses," House said. "Could you answer the question?"
"Throw him in the oven," she replied energetically. "Let's cook this thing!"
House put the turkey in the oven and set it to four hundred degrees. "Now what?"
"We wait," she said, "until it's done. In the meantime, we ready ourselves." She danced off to the bathroom, singing "Summer Loving."
"It's almost December," House reminded her bitterly. "Therefore, I'm forced to assume that you love a certain someone. And may I ask if that was all we're going to do?"
"Yes, I do love a certain someone," she replied happily. "His name is Gregory House, and he's my daddy, and he's not like other daddies that go around asking their little girls stupid questions about certain other someones they might happen to love. And yes, that's all we're doing at this moment, food-wise."
House was left open-mouthed. "Then why, may I ask, are we awake at 7:00 in the morning on a day I don't have to get up?"
"There are thousands of things that must be done that don't involve exploring the anatomy of farm animals with our fingers," she replied as she shut the door and continued to talk through the barrier as she started water running for her shower. "There is a list for you by your breakfast. I'll be out to help you in a few minutes."
"I think I accidentally wiped my face with it," House said, sighing in relief. He could go back to sleep.
"Set the table, vacuum the dining room, and dust everything," Julia commanded. "That should tide you over for a little while."
"What time did you say your mother would get here?" House asked Julia as he set a honey-baked ham on a platter. It was now one o'clock in the afternoon.
"Two," she said, busy chopping potatoes to dump in boiling water. She'd mash them up when they were warm enough. "Everyone else will be here by three and we can get on with the celebration." She gasped suddenly, dropping the knife. "Damn it," she muttered, rinsing off her finger.
"What's wrong?" House asked.
"I cut myself," she replied.
"Here, let me see it," he demanded.
"No!" she screamed, alarmed. She watched him pull back, bewildered. "I mean, no," she said more quietly. "I don't want you to touch it. It's not that deep." House went and got her a band-aid. She put it on and thanked him, then got back to the potatoes. "I got it all over the stupid potato too!" she groaned, tossing it into the trash can.
"Julia, don't worry about it," House began.
"Of course I have to worry about it!" she said. "My blood is the equivalent of liquid nitrogen: touch it and you're dead. I'd rather not go letting all the people I love ingest it. The idea makes me a little uneasy, you know?" Knowing that he couldn't argue with this, she got back to the potatoes.
After a minute, House cleared his throat and said, "Just so you know, none of us think of you as sick. In case you were worried, I mean. We hardly even notice."
"Oh, yeah," Julia scoffed. "That's why Robert touches me like I'm made of glass, Foreman is constantly asking me if I have any concerns, and Cameron and Dr. Cuddy are always making sure I'm eating. Even Mom's gone off the deep end with the over-mothering. I kind of miss her drunk. And you – you're the worst! You're always, 'Julia, I'm your daddy, and I love you, and I'll kill anyone who doesn't, because you deserve the best for however long you have left to live.'"
"I don't say that," House protested. "I'm not that much of a jerk."
"You're getting better," she admitted. "I'm proud of you."
"Back at you," he said sincerely. They locked eyes and were silent, contemplating all the possible meanings of the other party's gaze.
"Is this the part where we fall into each other's arms and cry and have what I believe is called a 'moment?'" Julia asked finally. "I've had quite enough of that for a lifetime."
"Same here," House replied, relieved. "Let's play a game."
"A game?" Julia repeated. "How juvenile of you, Dad. What kind of game?"
"Johnny has an apple in his pocket," House said. "Your turn. B."
Julia rolled her eyes. She hated this game. "Johnny has an apple and a banana in his pocket," she acquiesced, hoping the hour would fly by.
"Johnny has an apple, a banana, and a carrot in his pocket," House said, breaking out the cranberry sauce.
"Johnny has an apple, a banana, a carrot, and a doughnut in his pocket," Julia said. House gave her a blank stare. "What? Can't Johnny have a little sugar every now and then?"
"Johnny has an apple, a banana, a carrot, a doughnut, and an eggplant in his pocket."
Three o'clock finally came and everyone that needed to be there was present. Alma had arrived an hour before to make sure they hadn't destroyed the turkey (they hadn't; in fact, she pronounced it the most tender, lovely turkey she'd ever seen before), and Chase got there at three o'clock because he was going to be spending the evening with them. James and Julie Wilson were entertaining their parents, but promised to come by later for dessert, as would Drs. Cuddy and Foreman. Cuddy had things to finish up at the hospital, as her work could not halt for the holidays, and Foreman had also spent some time with his family. The only person unaccounted for was Allison Cameron.
"Where is she?" House wondered. "She said she'd be here at three. It's three-oh-two now. How rude."
"Oh, shut up," Julia told him. "Don't be OCD about the time."
"What was I thinking, Miss you-think-it's-funny-not-to-be-punctual?" House asked her, grinning. "Of course not."
"She's probably just caught in traffic or something," Chase assured them. "She'll be here in no time."
"She lives a total of three minutes away," House protested. "Something isn't right."
"Chill," Julia said.
"Do you always talk to your father that way?" Alma asked her. "Sounds disrespectful to me."
House snickered. "She sure does. Bloodthirsty little thing, isn't she?"
"Give Cameron another few minutes," Julia said.
They waited for ten. "You snooze, you lose," House finally said, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "Let's eat." He was actually looking forward to having her come by. They'd really grown to love each other over the past few months, and while they weren't willing to admit it, certain feelings of romance and other inconvenient emotions arose at the worst times – usually around Julia, who had decided she wouldn't mind having a step-mom that wasn't even ten years older than she was. House had been expecting Allison to leave for the holiday, but she surprised him by saying she could stick around to have Thanksgiving dinner at his place that year. He couldn't imagine why she would miss it…
She knocked on the door; everyone breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Because of that, you get to stand in a corner while we eat," House told her as he let her in.
"Sorry," Cameron said as came in, nodding to everyone in greeting. "I forgot…you know," she said to Alma, "and I had to go back and get it."
Julia glanced from Cameron to her mother. "What's going on with you two? What's 'it?'"
"Just something," Alma told her sweetly, and she exchanged a mysterious grin with Cameron.
"That's an alliance I thought was impossible," House commented as he walked to the table. "Let's eat."
Everybody sat down and looked at each other. What now?
Chase cleared his throat. "So now what? Perhaps grace?"
House scoffed. "Grace?" he repeated. "I don't think we're of the grace variety. Right, Julia?"
She kicked him under his seat and said, "Observe whatever custom you feel like, and we'll all be good and wait for you."
Chase turned red. "No thank-you," he said.
"Well, how about if we go around the table and say one thing we're thankful for," Alma suggested.
"Awww," Cameron cooed. "That's so sweet! House, why don't you start?"
"Oh boy," he said, stalling for time. "Ummm…I'm…grateful for all of you, I guess," he mumbled, intently studying the napkin in his lap.
Julia, seated next to him, smiled at that. He was being sincere! "I'm grateful for each and every day I get to spend with all of you, because each one is precious," she said.
Chase went next. "I'm grateful for my job, because without it, I never would have gotten to know such wonderful people," he said quietly, looking down. Julia let out a little squeal and squeezed his hand. Ordinarily, he would have been upset that she'd drawn attention to this embarrassing admittance, but hell, it was Thanksgiving, and if House could sober up enough to be serious, why couldn't he?
Now it was Cameron's turn. "I'm grateful that I'm so fortunate to have a place to sleep, food, clothes, and the only things I have to worry about are trivial and unimportant in the grand scheme of things."
Alma came last. "I'm grateful for second chances and the people that give them to me over and over again," she said.
Everyone sat quietly for a second, contemplating what they had just shared. House broke the silence by clearing his throat and saying, "If we sit here and cry much longer, the turkey's going to get cold, and Julia will kill me if I let all of her hard work go to waste." That being said, everyone stuffed themselves full of the feast that had been created in House's formerly toxic kitchen.
The Wilsons, Cuddy, and Foreman arrived at six o'clock in the evening, and everyone was happy to see them. It was everyone except House's first time meeting Julie, so James went around introducing her to them. "This is Dr. Chase, Dr. Cameron, Dr. Cuddy – you remember Dr. Cuddy? – and Dr. Foreman," James told her. "Of course you know Dr. House. This is Alma Peterson, a friend of House's, and this is House's daughter, Julia."
"A pleasure to meet you, Julia," Julie said, shaking her hand warmly. "I've heard many nice things about you."
Julia grinned. Obviously, Wilson had decided to keep The Incident a secret. "Ditto," she replied. "Glad to know you."
"Okay, friends and family," House called, wondering what had turned him into such a typical father. "Now that we're all here, I'd like to say a few words."
"Oh God," Cuddy muttered. "A speech. I knew it was coming."
House ignored her. "Four months and some days ago, I was simply Dr. House. I wasn't a husband, a father, a friend – I had no role in anyone's life other than some egotistical jerk with a nasty mouth and a brilliant mind, if I do say so myself. That all changed, a lot. By something more than coincidence, I discovered that my evil has been replicated in a younger and much more attractive female version of myself – my daughter Julia. This kid is something else, let me tell you. She's braved a childhood we've only seen in our nightmares –" here, she shot him a dirty look, warning him not to read into it too far "- is still battling with illness, and even took on the task of cleaning my apartment, floor to ceiling, and yet I ended up being the one to prepare the turkey this afternoon because the blood made her queasy." Here, everyone laughed politely. "Overall, though, I'm proud of her. For being one giant oxymoron, she's an incredible person. Fun to be around, intelligent, humorous, loyal, honest, and forgiving. I say that last part because I think almost all of us in this room have unintentionally done something to hurt this angelic creature, myself at the top of this list. She's a saint, isn't she? Julia puts up with me time and time again, and I'm beyond lucky that she has. She lets me screw up as I try and fail to get the dad thing right. I just want her to know that I appreciate it."
Julia's face was burning. "Dad," she hissed. "I appreciate the speech and all, but really, this is going a little too far."
"I love this kid because she gives us all room to grow up, and I never thought I'd say it, but I'm so glad she came looking for me when she did." House paused, allowing more thoughts to flood into his mind. "So this Thanksgiving, I'd just like to thank her for pulling me out of myself and forcing me to change. I hope I've made her proud."
Julia pulled out a tissue and began to wipe her eyes. "That was beautiful," she murmured. She got up and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"I want you to have that kind of relationship with our kids when we have one," Julie whispered to James.
"Cameron," Cuddy hissed. "Tissues."
"Get your own; I'm out," Allison said, rummaging through her purse.
"We should get this on tape," Chase told Foreman.
"For what, blackmail?" he replied. "That's kind of mean. We shouldn't hold it against him for having a heart."
"Alma, it's your turn," House said. "I know you had something to say."
"Yes, I did," she said, standing up. "Julia, everything your dad said, I say too. You really ended up bringing out the best in all of us, and we really appreciate it. You wondered what Allison and I were talking about earlier today – well, I'll let her bring it up."
Allison obediently brought her a gift-wrapped box.
"What, no cross-dressers this time?" Julia asked, smiling as she tried to stop crying.
"Not today," she said.
"Julia, this is the only way we could think of to show you how much we love you," Alma said. "In the way you've cared for us all, we don't want you to forget yourself in the equation, so we've compiled this…thing, as a reminder to always remember what an amazing person you our. Everybody here contributed something, and we always want you to remember how much it meant to us that you came along." Alma watched as her daughter burst into yet more tears of joy. "Honey, you haven't even opened it yet," she said.
"I know," Julia replied miserably. "I can't even see anything right now. Ugh, I can't believe you made me cry on Thanksgiving! Christmas is gonna be great fun, isn't it?" Julia managed to untie the ribbon and rip through the paper. She found a scrapbook inside. She opened the cover and found… "Baby pictures?" she said in disbelief. "I didn't know we had any…"
"I might have been a bad mother, but I wasn't stupid enough to forget to take pictures," Alma said, mortified.
Julia flipped through the book, noticing every detail. Somehow, all the happy things crowded out the sadness she had experienced, and her mother had done an incredible job in capturing all the moments that defined her. Captions like "Julia coming home from the hospital" and "Julia going to kindergarten" and "Julia graduating high school at the top of her class" popped out at her. Locks of hair from her first haircut and baby teeth bordered the first page of pictures, and her mother had cut patterns of paper to represent each age for the rest of the pages. More recently, pictures of House and the people he'd brought with him into her life surfaced. Somehow, in every picture, Julia was smiling.
"Oh my God," she said. "This is incredible."
Everyone wiped their eyes – well, all the females in the room, anyway; the males just looked down and pursed their lips.
"What about another picture?" House asked. "I noticed this page was blank." He reached over Julia's shoulder and flipped the page to a header that read "Turkey Day, 2005."
"Excellent idea," Julia said. "Oh, damn it, hold on. I bet I smudged my make-up." She hurried to the bathroom and let out a shriek. "I have raccoon eyes!"
Cameron, Julie, and Alma all ran after her, shouting things like, "Hold on, honey, we'll be right there!" and "Start washing your face!" and "No need to panic! I know a trick with an eyeliner pencil that'll have you ready to go in seconds!"
The men stared at each other in silence. "Who's gonna take the picture?" Wilson asked finally.
"Good question," Foreman said. "It can't be one of us."
"We could set it on timer," Chase suggested.
"That never works," House said. "It always holds off until you think maybe you set it wrong, you stare at it quizzically, and poof! Your confusion is captured on film." He thought. "Old Mr. Dodd, next door. He could take the picture."
"Maybe Old Mr. Dodd would just like to be left alone on Thanksgiving," Foreman suggested. "Maybe he had family that he's celebrating with and doesn't want to be bothered."
"Nobody visits Mr. Dodd," Wilson said, knowing this was true, as he'd run into the man several times when he visited House. "He's always alone."
"That's sad," Chase said.
"Go help the girls with their make-up," House told him, grinning. "You can exchange hair tips, since that style you were wearing in the cross-dressing photo was so cute. Alright, I'll go over there and ask him." House marched over to Mr. Dodd's apartment and knocked on the door.
"What do you want?" he grumbled as he opened the door. House felt like crap; he heard the t.v. blaring in the background and poor Mr. Dodd was eating Lean Cuisine for his Thanksgiving dinner.
"We were wondering if you'd, ummm, like to come over to my apartment," House mumbled. "For…dessert."
"I don't like dessert," Mr. Dodd said. "Gives me digestive problems."
Oh boy, House thought. Now I remember why I never reach out to anybody. "Well, could you at least take a picture for us?"
Mr. Dodd rolled his eyes, but obediently dropped his tray on the table and stomped over to House's apartment. "What do I gotta do, just look through this here lens and press this button?" he asked.
"That's right," House said. "Julia, have you succeeded in not looking like a raccoon yet?"
"Give me a minute!" she called. "You know, eyes aren't easy to work with!"
House rolled his eyes. "Alright. Let's get in position so we're ready when they finally get out here." Each man took a spot on the couch or behind it, leaving enough room for the women to get in next to them. House was sitting in the center, leaving space beside him on either side for Alma and Julia; Chase sat down next to where Julia would be. Wilson was behind Chase, leaving space for Julie, and Foreman stood at the far right, thus allowing Cuddy space to stand next to Julie. Finally, the make-up crisis was taken care of, and the ladies came out and took their places. "Okay, Mr. Dodd, we're ready," House told him.
Mr. Dodd snapped the picture and said gruffly, "You look nice." Then he set the camera on the table and headed for the door. "Happy Thanksgiving."
Julia stood up and threw an arm over his shoulder in a friendly manner. "Where do you think you're going?" she asked. "I made chocolate mousse, and I demand you try some before you go home."
A slow grin spread across Mr. Dodd's face. "Well, if you insist," he said. "I guess I don't mind digestive problems if it's good."
Julia stifled a laugh and promised him it would be worth it. Then she made House take a picture of her and her "favorite neighbor in the history of neighbors," as she would pronounce him at the end of the evening.
Alma reviewed all of the pictures taken of the day with House after everyone had gone home. "Look at this," she said. "We want to remind her who she is, and yet it's like she's nothing without us. Every picture is of her and someone else."
"Who taught her to be that way?" House wondered.
"We certainly didn't," Alma said.
Julia was in her room, supposedly asleep. In reality, she was listening to her parents talking. "Yes, you did," she whispered, knowing they'd never hear her. "You said it yourself – I'm nothing without you."
Many of you will be pleased to hear that I got a new job! This is a job a four-year-old could do – basically, I'm on my knees singing the alphabet all day, filing and whatnot. Therefore, this new work environment is going to be very conducive to feeding my imagination. Hurray for boring jobs that pay minimum wage!
Also, am I the only one who is outraged that the Teen Choice Awards are taking up House's time slot tomorrow night? I personally don't give a damn if I have a choice (if I did, I certainly wouldn't have chosen Hilary Duff to host the show); therefore, this is certainly not good news at all.
Keep your time machines running; we've got one more time jump to cover! Chapter 25 up soon! (As always, I'm craving your reviews.)