AUTHOR'S NOTES: Underlined phrases are supposed to be strikethroughs. I know there's a way to do it, but I don't know what it is, so use your imagination :).

THE APPLE AND THE TREE – CHAPTER FIVE

"Nicole's gotten worse," Foreman reported.

Chase looked up. "What? How?"

"She was talking to House and her headache escalated," Foreman explained.

"Not an uncommon reaction to having a conversation with House," Chase quipped in an uncharacteristic moment of sarcasm.

"She hit a ten on the pain scale," Foreman continued. "She's in a medically-induced coma. We can't put enough medicine into her to make the pain bearable."

Chase and Cameron were both silent. "Any clues?" Cameron asked softly.

Foreman shook his head. "No. But we need to get some. Fast."

House cringed at the sound his piano made. He jerked his foot off the pedal, sending a jolt of pain through his game leg, and squinted at the music in front of him. Idiot, he chided himself. You forgot to flat the B. He tried again. There. Much better.

After playing another few measures, House decided it wasn't happening. His mind wasn't on the piano tonight. He was too busy thinking about Nicole. Her condition was "stable." Unfortunately, she was stably in a medically-induced coma because the pain had become too severe for her to function.

He loved Nicole. He'd never admit it to anyone except maybe Wilson, but he did. Yes, even though talking to Nicole was too often like talking to a younger female version of himself-that had amused his mother to no end-and even though she could be stubborn and sarcastic and hard to get along with. She was still his little girl.

When she was little, Nicole had made a habit of climbing into his lap while House played the piano. He placed his hands on the keys and played through "Beauty and the Beast," the song he had played when Darlene sang at the Gong Show, and also the first song he'd ever played for Nicole.

House opened the door and heard his piano being abused in the living room. "Nicole playing her masterpiece again?" He asked Darlene.

Darlene stretched up to kiss him-and it was quite a stretch, seeing as she was a good deal shorter than he was-and said, "She's been doing this all afternoon. I'd tell her to stop, but I think that would be a little hypocritical, seeing as I can't do any better." She shrugged. "Besides, it keeps her busy."

House removed his jacket. Their four-year-old was a bundle of energy. "At least she's low maintenance." He walked into the living room. Nicole was sitting on the piano bench, happily pounding away at the piano. "What are you doing, Nicole?" He asked her.

Nicole turned to him and smiled. "Playing," she said. "Like you."

House couldn't help chuckling. "Like me, hm?" He sat down on the bench and sat his daughter on his lap. "OK, this is how Daddy plays." He started to play "Beauty and the Beast." As he did, he remembered the Gong Show all those years ago, when Darlene had been so nervous to sing in front of all those people. Later on in their dating life, Darlene had remarked on what an appropriate song that was for them. If she's Beauty, that makes me the Beast, House thought. Well, it was an apt metaphor.

When he finished playing, House glanced down at Nicole. Her tiny head was rested on his chest and she was sound asleep.

House paused for a moment, staring down at his daughter. It was almost heartwarming…almost. In order for a scene to be heartwarming, one must first have a heart, he thought. Slowly, trying not to wake Nicole, he stood up and carried her off to her bedroom.

House had tried to dissuade her from taking up gymnastics. It was fairly clear by the age of seven that she had the wrong body type for it. She was built just like him-tall and comprised entirely of arms and legs. He didn't want her to experience the frustration that he knew would come along with wanting her body to do something it couldn't do. But it would be a good outlet for her energy, he guessed. All it did was give her something pretty to do with her energy. She'd just tumble on the floor for at least an hour each night until she got too big for it, at which point she took it to the backyard. She'd tried a back handspring in the driveway once and landed on her head. Athletic tape was a constant in their medicine cabinet; House really should have bought stock in Ace. Leotards were a regular part of the Saturday wash. There were always ice packs in their freezer, ready to apply to whatever bump or bruise or strain or sprain might come home this time. And it was always something.

"Don't you get enough of this stuff at practice?" House would ask as Nicole did balance beam on the kitchen tiles.

"Nope," she'd say with a smile.

Nicole never got discouraged. Not when she became a full head taller than every other gymnast on her team, not when she broke her sternum and spent a week in bed-a bad week for all involved-not when she just missed the deadline to move up to the next level. Never.

He'd never told her how proud he was of that. He really should have. He should have made more of an effort to attend her meets, maybe learn exactly what that "flyaway" was she'd needed to move up to Level 6-or was it 5? He couldn't remember.

He should remember. It was Nicole's passion. House hadn't made the slightest move to be interested in it.

He'd used work as an excuse not to attend her meets. Sometimes it was legit, but others it was just an excuse. The last meet he remembered attending was a state meet when Nicole was fifteen. He was really glad he'd gone, actually-it would've been a bad night in the House residence had he missed the day Nicole became the New Jersey State Vault Champion.

When she'd gone to college, they'd stopped having any form of communication. There wasn't any big fight, or any kind of falling-out. They just…stopped. House didn't know where Nicole spent her Christmas breaks or her spring or summer vacations. With his sister, maybe. But wouldn't Joanne tell him? No, Nicole probably didn't want him to know.

Last they'd spoken, Nicole had wanted to be a police detective. A fine career for someone who worked through problems just like House. Was that still her goal? Well, really, what were her other options? She'd once considered being an attorney, but Darlene had (wisely) talked her out of it. Nicole would be an attorney until she was thirty and spent the rest of her life in jail for contempt of the court.

And now Nicole was lying in a coma in the hospital. House knew he was the only doctor who could figure out what was going on in her head. He was also the only doctor who couldn't get near her.

Who says? Some little voice in his head challenged. You've broken rules before.

Vogler will fire you, another little voice piped up, referring to Edward Vogler the pompous new chairman of the board.

He'd need full board approval to axe me, House countered, getting rather annoyed with this inner voice.

He'll make your life miserable.

He already does that.

Keep your head down. Let the ducklings handle this.

If I do that, Nicole might die.

Die.

House stood up and grabbed his coat. He didn't care about Cuddy. He didn't care about Vogler. They could do whatever they wanted. He was not putting another woman he loved in the ground.

Taking the keys and his cane, House moved as quickly as he could toward the door. He was going to figure out what was wrong with Nicole, whatever it might cost him.

Cuddy tore through the halls, ready to give House both barrels about skipping on the clinic again. Vogler wasn't going to be happy about this. He was still ripping about the lab coat.

"House!" Cuddy turned right sharply when she saw a tall figure hobbling into an office with GREGORY HOUSE, M.D. printed on the glass door. He didn't respond, so Cuddy followed him in. "We have got to talk about this," she said. "You can't be…" she trailed off. House wasn't listening. More than that, he was ignoring her. He was wearing the same clothes he'd worn yesterday and he looked thoroughly exhausted. Had he been here all night? No, she'd seen him leave yesterday.

"House?" Cuddy walked closer, curiosity taking over anger. "What are you doing?"

He didn't answer, so Cuddy peered around him at the board. It was filled with black markings, one-word diagnoses, some crossed out and others not.

HEADACHE

STROKE
SINUS
ANEURYSM
TUMOR

NERVES?
OPTIC
OCCIPITAL

"This is Nicole," Cuddy said, looking up at House.

"Mm-hm," House murmured.

"House," Cuddy said warningly. "You know-"

"I know the rules," House said absently, writing CAUSE? underneath OCCIPITAL. "I'm just ignoring them."

Cuddy didn't know why that shocked her. "You can't do that."

"Watch me." House wrote PRESSURE beneath CAUSE?

"Vogler will have your head," Cuddy said, referring to the chairman of the board.

"Vogler can kiss my butt."

"House, you could get fired!" Cuddy said, although that was a stretch. Vogler would need a unanimous vote to get rid of House. Cuddy wouldn't vote for it and Wilson wouldn't either.

"I don't care about my job right now!" House snapped. The force in his words made Cuddy stumble backwards. "OK? It means nothing to me! Vogler can fire you, fire me, fire my staff, chuck the whole department! I don't care! I am not going to watch someone else I love die at this hospital! It's not happening! Got it!"

Cuddy stood in shock for a few moments. Who was this man standing in front of her? She'd never seen House so emotional. She hadn't thought he had it in him.

"…someone else I love…" "Your wife died here."

House's hand on the marker stilled.

"What was her name?" Cuddy asked, feeling some inexplicable need to know the name of the former Mrs. House.

"Darlene." House's voice was barely above a whisper as he wrote COLD below PRESSURE.

Darlene. The name brought to mind the image of a serene, patient woman. Probably exactly what Darlene had been. "House-"

"Cold…" House murmured. "Did she have a fever?"

Cuddy wondered what this had to do with Darlene, and then realized House was musing out loud.

"Pressure at her head…" House brought his right hand around the back of his head. "Right here."

Cuddy raised her eyebrows. "House?"

House lifted his head. "I know what's wrong with her." He started to walk out of the room.

Cuddy snagged his arm. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm rounding up the ducklings," House said.

"You can't do this," Cuddy said, even though she knew it was futile. "What am I supposed to tell Vogler?"

House regarded her for a second. "Stuff it."

Cuddy's jaw dropped. "What?"

House looked almost smug. "Stuff it."

"I can't say that!" Cuddy sputtered.

"Tell him it's a personal memo from me." House pulled his sleeve out of her grasp and left the office.

He was well out of earshot before Cuddy remembered she hadn't given him a hard time about the clinic.

"What was Nicole's temperature?"

Chase, Foreman, and Cameron looked up from their work in the DM lounge. Standing in the doorway was a very tired-looking House.

"What?" Chase asked, confused.

House hobbled into the lounge. "You took Nicole's temperature two days ago. What was it?"

"Normal," Chase answered, still baffled. "Why-"

"In degrees, what was her temperature?"

Chase raised his eyebrows. Why was House giving him the third degree over Nicole's temperature? "Ninety-eight six. Just like the-"

"Just like the rest of us," House finished. "She has a fever."

"Huh?" Cameron asked.

"Will someone explain to me what's going on here?" Foreman asked.

"Nicole has occipital neuritis," House closed the door and limped over to the table. "Inflammation of the occipital nerve caused by long-term pressure-"

"We know what occipital neuritis is," Foreman cut him off. "That doesn't explain the fever."

"She doesn't have a fever," Chase insisted.

"Yes, she does," House rebutted. "Nicole's normal body temperature is somewhere around ninety-seven, usually closer to ninety-six eight."

"That's a full two degrees low," Cameron said, doctor wheels visibly turning in her head. "What caused it? Maybe-"

"She's always had it," House supplied. "Runs in her mom's family. Point is, ninety-eight six is a fever for her."

"Occipital neuritis doesn't explain a fever," Foreman reiterated.

"It doesn't," House acknowledged. "Chase, you said that her temperature was normal so she just had a cold. Now we know she has a fever. She's got more than a cold."

"She was complaining of sinus pain when I saw her," Chase said.

"Sinus infection," Cameron diagnosed.

"And a fever headache," House added. "When Nicole has a fever, she gets a headache."

"Three headaches," Chase said. "On their own, painful but bearable…"

"…They all strike at once and you have a whompin'-stompin' kick-your-butt headache," House finished.

Chase stood up. "We've gotta get her fever down," he said. "See if we can bring her out after that." He left the room.

"After that we can start treatment for the neuritis." Foreman followed him.

"And put her on antibiotics for the sinus infection." Cameron followed the other two out of the room, leaving House alone.

"So the man broke a fundamental rule of practicing medicine, and you're just going to let him off?"

Cuddy took a breath to calm herself. "Edward, it's not that big a deal," she said. "And he did make the right diagnosis."

"This guy goes around breaking rules, bucking regulations, and you just look the other way."

This was becoming unbearable. Cuddy looked at the tall, corpulent black man in front of her. "I talked to Dr. House this morning," she said. "I told him you might get angry, and he has a message for you."

Vogler looked a bit wary. "Oh?"

Cuddy gave a smile that had no warmth. "Stuff it."

Vogler's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

"Stuff it," Cuddy reiterated, rising from her chair and leaving her office. When the door was closed, she gave a sigh of relief. It felt really good to finally put Vogler in his place.

"Well, hello there, stranger."

Nicole looked up from conducting an in-depth study of her blanket. A smile spread across her face. "Dr. Wilson."

Wilson walked into the room and gave her a hug. "How you doing?"

"Better than I was," Nicole admitted. She looked at his hand. "Special delivery?"

Wilson shook his head. "Just like your dad, can't keep a secret from you." He handed her the paper he held. "I found this on your dad's desk. I think you should read it."

Nicole unfolded the paper. "What is it?"

"A letter," Wilson said. "From your dad, to you. I think he wanted you to read it." Actually, Wilson knew House didn't want Nicole to read it, but that was-as George Banks had once observed-"entirely beside the point."

Nicole handed it back. "No."

"Nicole-"

"No." Nicole shook her head. "Just…no."

Wilson sat on the edge of the bed and tried the diplomatic approach. "Your dad stayed here all night trying to figure out what was wrong with you."

"He does that kind of thing all the time."

"Not all night," Wilson told her.

"Why?" Nicole asked.

"He loves you."

Nicole looked down, shaking her head. "Yeah. Sure."

Dr. Wilson put the letter on the table. "I'll leave this here," he said. "You can read it if you want." He started to leave.

"Dr. Wilson?" Nicole called.

The oncologist stepped back into the room. "Yes?"

Nicole tapped her left ring finger. "You and Kay got divorced."

"What makes you say that?" Wilson asked.

"No ring."

"I did divorce her," Wilson admitted. "And while you weren't looking, I got married."

"Again?"

Wilson chuckled. "Yes, again."

"You know what?" Nicole asked. "My dad was happily married once. You've been unhappily married three times. Of the two of you, I'd think my dad would be the one who'd have a harder time with this."

"What makes you think my current marriage is unhappy?" Wilson asked, somewhat amused.

"You're not wearing a ring," Nicole answered. "Dad never wore his either, but that's just because he was weird. You, on the other hand, are not weird that way. So all I can assume is you're not wearing it because you want to deny to yourself that you're married, or you want to keep it a secret from that hospital pharmacist."

Wilson laughed. "See you later, House Junior." He left the room.

Nicole scowled after him. Pain in the neck, she thought. He knows I won't be able to leave it alone. She stared at the piece of notebook paper next to her, battling with her curiosity. Oh, heck with it, she grabbed the paper and unfolded it.

Dear Nicole,

I don't know where to begin. I've never been good at this. You're not, either. Guess you get it from me.

Nicole snickered.

I guess I should start by saying I screwed up. I wasn't the dad I should have been and I wasn't the dad you needed. You were right when you said that you needed me and I wasn't there. Your mom had been gone for barely two months and on top of all that, I couldn't walk anymore. I was scared and confused, and I got so focused on my own pain that I missed yours. You were angry at me and I can't blame you.

I love you, Nicole. I love you in a way you will never be able to understand until you have your own children. I know I dropped the ball with you, and I'm sorry. I didn't give you the love you needed even when your mom was still around. You're the best daughter I ever could have wanted and I'm so proud of you. Yes, even if you're a twenty-two-year-old version of me with an XX chromosome.

Nicole couldn't help laughing. What a perfect doctor statement.

I love you and I wouldn't have you any other way. When you get better and go back to Princeton and go through your life, please remember that. You may not love me anymore, but I love you very much.

Dad.

Nicole folded the letter. Did he really write that? She wondered. Well, it would be impossible to forge his handwriting, but even so…she'd never thought him capable of such a thing. This just wasn't the way he showed affection. I'm sorry, Dad, she thought. I do love you.

House stood over Nicole's bed. She was sleeping. He didn't move for a moment, not wanting to disturb the picture of sweetness and innocence in front of him. He almost laughed, thinking of how unsweet Nicole could be when it suited her purpose.

He remembered when Nicole was little and she wouldn't go to sleep. She just wouldn't. Her mind was too active. She always had a handful of questions, nonstop every day: "Daddy, why is the sky blue?" "Daddy, why do people get sick?" "Daddy, how does the car work?" "Daddy, how does an airplane fly?" The list went on and on. While happy that he had such an intellectually curious daughter, House sometimes wished she'd stop asking questions and just go to sleep.

Nicole's eyelids twitched and House caught his breath. She was waking up. Would she tell him to get out? As expected as it was, House didn't think he could take it again. Not after the scare she'd just put him through. Her crystal blue eyes flitted around the room briefly, and then settled on him. She just stared for a second. House held his breath.

"Dad?" Her voice was quiet and raspy.

House nodded.

"Dr. Wilson showed me the letter you wrote."

House's eyes darted towards the end table, where a piece of folded lined paper sat. He mentally (seeing as he was physically incapable) kicked himself for leaving it around on his desk. He'd never meant for Nicole to actually see it. He'd just been writing things down. What a snoop Wilson was. House would have to give the schmuck a good dressing-down next time they saw each other.

"He also told me you figured out my problem."

House nodded again.

"Won't you get in trouble?"

"Maybe," House said. It was unlikely, but he could face punishment. Most likely in the form of extended clinic hours.

"Why'd you do it?"

House regarded her momentarily. "I love you."

Nicole's eyes glistened. "Really?"

"Really."

"Even if…" Nicole sniffled. "Even if I'm a…what was it?" She opened the letter and read it. "A twenty-two-year-old version of you with an XX chromosome?"

House laughed a little. "Yeah."

"You really meant this?" Nicole held up the letter.

House tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "Every word."

Nicole sat up and looked at him through wide, wet eyes. House internally scolded himself. What a scumbucket father he'd been. Nicole was afraid just to ask for a hug. So make up for it, that erstwhile inner voice said. Beat her to the punch.

Hoping and praying no one was watching, House leaned his cane against the bed, shifted his weight onto his good leg, and stretched his arms forward.

"Daddy." Nicole buried her face in his sport coat as he brought both arms around her.

Daddy. House bit his lip against the stinging in his eyes. OK, so maybe he wasn't as heartless as everyone thought he was. But he was not going to cry. That simply wasn't happening.

House rested his cheek on Nicole's hair. He hadn't hugged her in years. Not since soon after Darlene died. They'd both closed off from each other after that, neither knowing how to deal with the event. Come to think of it, House had had very little human contact since then, except for hugs from his sister and parents and the occasional tap on the shoulder when someone wanted his attention.

And now he was standing here, his left hip protesting rather loudly, hugging his crying daughter. It wasn't so bad, he thought. But if anyone mentioned it, they were dead.

Cameron pushed open the door to Nicole's room. Now that her fever was down, she needed antibiotics for the sinus infection. After that-

Cameron stopped in her tracks. What was this? Nicole was sitting up in her bed, leaning on House. And the strange part was: he wasn't protesting. He was hugging her back. Cameron backed up slightly and observed the little family moment. Somehow, these five seconds she'd just witnessed did more to shape her perception of House than anything else he'd done since she'd worked for him.

Half an hour later, House stumbled into his office. He limped over to the desk, sat down in the chair, and drew in a long, shaky breath. His mental and emotional energy was completely drained. He'd felt this way after Darlene died. It was a sensation of complete exhaustion, like he didn't even have the energy to walk across the room.

Darlene. This week had brought back way too many painful memories. House took a deep breath, trying to calm himself before he lost it completely.

There were still days that this bothered House. Those were the days he'd be short with his colleagues (even more so than usual). Sometimes they just came out of the blue; others something would trigger it-remembering their anniversary (something he'd rarely been able to do even when he was married), hearing "Beauty and the Beast" played on the radio, finding a book Darlene had read once. It made everything hurt all over again.

House rubbed his hand down his face. Yes, this week had reminded him of the awful time when Darlene was in the hospital, but there was one important difference: this week had a much, much happier ending

Cameron poked her head into Nicole's room. "Hi, Nicole. Ready to get out of here?"

Nicole looked up from the book on her lap and smiled. "I was born ready." She climbed off the bed. She looked a lot better, Cameron decided. Her fever and sinus infection were gone, and the treatment for the neuritis was beginning to take effect. In a week or so she'd be good as new.

"Oh, Dr. Cameron, do I have to?" Nicole looked at the wheelchair like it was a snake.

Cameron laughed. "Yes, Nicole, you have to."

"I promise that I won't sue if I fall," Nicole tried.

"Sorry," Cameron told her. "Not my call. Don't worry; all patients get this treatment."

"OK, fine." Nicole sat down in the wheelchair. "When can I go back to school?"

Cameron steered the chair out of the room. "As soon as you feel ready," she said. "I'd stay away from doing any hard gymnastics for at least a week, though. If you hit your head it could make the neuritis worse."

"Will the neuritis ever come back?" Nicole angled her head up to look at Cameron.

"It might." Cameron pushed the chair into the elevator and hit the "Lobby" button. "If it does, just go see your doctor and explain the problem."

The elevator doors opened. "OK, can I get out of the wheelchair now?" Nicole asked.

"Not until we get to the sidewalk," Cameron said.

"Sheesh. Lawyers really do run the world."

Cameron laughed a little.

"Hi, Nicole." House said. "Ready to go?"

Nicole stood up. "Most definitely." As she stood, her left shoelace caught on the wheelchair. "Oof!" She gasped as she fell to the floor.

"Nicole!" Chase rushed over to help her up.

"Oh, my goodness, are you all right?" Cameron asked.

Nicole lumbered to her feet-or rather, foot-and hopped around on her good leg for a moment. "Ow." She gingerly put the injured foot on the floor. "I'm OK."

"Do you want some ice?" Foreman asked.

"No, no, I'm fine," Nicole said dismissively.

"You sure?" Chase asked.

"Yes, I'm sure." Nicole began lurching over to the door.

"You're limping," House told her.

Nicole looked at him. "Well, now we match."

House feigned offense. "Are you heckling me?"

"Yes, I'm heckling you!"

"You're always heckling people, aren't you?"

"Well, now that apple didn't fall far from the tree, did it?"

The duo continued their arguing as they exited the hospital.

The ducklings barely managed to contain their laughter until the doors were shut.