Disclaimer: Really, the amount of things I own is pathetic. Libby and Harrison…that's it. House isn't mine.

Author's Note: I love reviewers!

Libby watched with unusual interest for a child of three and a half years as Wilson prepared her arm to be injected with chemo-therapy. "Ok, sweetie, I'm going to give you the shot now. Do you want me to tell you again what's going to happen?"

"Nope, I'm fine. I remember." She smiled and looked outside the door at another child patient on the oncology floor. She was bald.

"How long is it until I'm bald?"

"Soon."

Libby bit her lip ever so slightly as Wilson injected the chemo-IV into her arm. For all it represented, it was so anti-climatic that Libby didn't even watch. Wilson and Cuddy had both pledged to each other to stay with House and Libby, no matter what came their way. As their storm began, they looked nervously at each other, then back towards House.

House appeared as though he didn't know what to do. First, he paced. Then, he twiddled his thumbs. Finally, he just took a seat next to Libby and sat in silence, waiting for her to need him.

The wait was almost over.

An hour or so went by like this. Although Libby looked considerably paler, she had yet to be sick. She had gagged a bit, but nothing came out. House had carefully planned out that morning's breakfast, which consisted only of soft, smooth foods. What went down easy would come up easy.

Suddenly, something in House's pocket vibrated. House fished around for what it was…his beeper. Patient coding three times in 15 minutes…Get up here now …Foreman. House looked helplessly at Wilson. (Cuddy had left after half an hour when she realized she had a meeting with the board.) Wilson nodded a couple times at House. "I'll stay with her. She hasn't even been sick yet. I'll be here. I'll page you if anything happens." House looked uneasy. "House, it's me. Don't worry."

"Yeah, Dad. Don't worry, I'll be fine. Uncle Jimmy's here!"

House's heart melted at his daughter's naivety, so like her mother's. "House. You should go."

House sighed, kissed Libby on the top of her head, and left. "Page me if…well, you can decide pretty well when to page me."

Libby watched her father limp off until he was out of sight. Then she looked back at Wilson, suddenly panicked. Subsequently, she keeled over and threw up all over the floor.

Wilson was quick to react. He held her hair back and made sympathetic noises as Libby emptied out what looked like everything she had ever eaten, ever. Finally, after at least five minutes, it seemed as though Libby was done. She leaned back in her chair before letting out an almost inaudible "oh no" and did a very good repeat of the last ten minutes of her life.

After half an hour of this, House still wasn't back and Wilson decided to hook Libby up to another IV, one that would keep her from getting dehydrated. This wouldn't stop Libby from being as violently sick as she was, just to keep some aspect of her health in the doctor's control.

Cuddy had received the non-urgent page from Wilson just as her meeting was ending. She cut it short and rushed up three flights of stairs to see Libby for herself. But when she got to the room, she stopped short at the door and let her eyes soak up the scene to better prepare herself for what lay inside.

Suddenly, Libby was violently ill in a hospital bin. Cuddy rushed in to hold her long, beautiful hair back and she and Wilson exchanged worried glances. The grim look on Wilson's face told Cuddy that this was a pattern. Libby murmured a quiet thanks and shut her eyes, exhausted.

Wilson gave Libby a weak smile. "You don't have to keep saying thank you. Actually, don't say thank you. It's my job. And you're my girl; I would do it for you anyway."

Libby returned with an even weaker smile while Wilson and Cuddy talked to each other in hushed voices.

"Your meeting ended already?"

"I cut the long ending short. This was more important. Did you page House yet?"

"Yeah, just before I paged you. He paged back asking how big an emergency was it, and I said there wasn't one, and he said ten minutes. So he should be getting here…"

Wilson was interrupted by the arrival of House. He looked as though he had seen better days. Wilson guessed the patient had done some more coding. House quickly made his way over to Libby and stroked her hair back off her forehead in such a touching way that Wilson hadn't even guessed House was capable of that.

"Hey baby, how you been doing?"

Libby smiled softly. "I'm ok."

Wilson resisted the urge to snort, but House caught it. He looked his friend in the eye, still brushing back Libby's angelic locks. He was very good at emotional multi-tasking.

Not.

"She…she threw up. A lot."

Libby said in a choked voice she wasn't done yet and vomited again. House looked terrified. This was new to him, yet so old. Knowing exactly what was wrong with the patient and being able to do nothing about it. House looked up at Wilson.

"Can't you give her something?"

"I don't want to do it the first day of the first round. I need to see how she reacts."

"Can't you see how she's reacting!" House and Wilson both looked very surprised at this outburst. Cuddy's face was decorated in clashing anger and sympathy, while Libby just looked disturbed. She let out a quiet "I'm sorry."

"Libby, it's not your fault. I'm so sorry." House felt horrible. Here he was, being a jackass, while his three and a half year old daughter took the first brave steps of a battle that probably wouldn't end until the day she died.

"Yeah. Me too. I'm sorry Libs. Your dad and I are just…very sad. We don't want anything to happen to you."

Libby looked from one man to the other and displayed exceptional perceptiveness for someone her age by deciding to make a smooth transition to another topic.

"When can I go home?"

Wilson, happy to have something to do, checked the tell-tale, black dressed IV bag. "Actually, right now. Your done for today."

"Today?"

"Well, I told you, you have to keep doing this until you get better."

Libby examined the bag. "Well, I'm not a doctor or anything, and you all are, but all this did was make me sick. I felt fine yesterday. Except for that cough. But that's it. And it wasn't even that bad."

Wilson laughed. "Sorry Libs. I'll see you tomorrow, ok kiddo?"

"Ok. Bye. And thanks." Libby walked over and gave Wilson, then Cuddy a hug. Cuddy looked as though she was about to cry. "See ya tomorrow." She looked back at House, and gave him a sad smile. "You've got a good kid there."

"And apparently, you've got an even better doctor. I mean, having people say thank-you after finding out they're terminal is one thing, but giving a hug after an intense day of chemo? This steenker's a keeper!"

"You know the deal for infections…if you should bring her in, if not, blah blah blah…"

"No, Wilson. I'm a world-renowned diagnostician but gosh darn it, I never can tell what infections should put kids in the hospital!"

Wilson and Cuddy exchanged glances. They saw right through his transparent act of functioning just fine. It was going to be one long haul.

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At exactly 1:06 AM, House woke up in his bed to the crash of something. Even though it was down the hallway, he could tell it came from his daughter's room. Without stopping to take a Vicoden or even his cane, House painfully ran to where Libby slept. He flipped on the light to see that his daughter had the shakes so violently that she had fallen out of bed, banged into the nightstand, and knocked over the lamp which, thank goodness, had narrowly missed crashing onto Libby. Infection.

Even as House knelt down to gather his daughter in his arms and blanket and hurriedly called an ambulance, the doctor part of him thought of a list of infections that Libby could possibly have. But when he looked down at the shaking girl in his arms, the doctor part all went away and the father part took over.

House was a top diagnostician who was best friends with a top oncologist, but he was still shocked at how quickly the chemo had worn down Libby's immune system. He was even more shocked at how quickly it had worn down his own personal immune system.

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Foreman had pulled the short straw and worked the night shift that evening. He greeted House with a stretcher and a couple doctors in the ER. It was easy to deduce what Libby had, and just as easy to treat it, but House was still felt thrown in the loop. Or was it out of the loop? He could never remember the difference.

Is this the first day of the rest of my life? Or the last? House looked at the little girl who looked even smaller than normal that lay in the hospital bed. House put his head in his head and sighed. He could never tell the difference.

Author's Note…Ok, the plot's in full swing, you know what to do, I'm updating like crazy, time to review! Haha, I made a rhyme and now it's TIME to review! Again. Wow, I need a life. Ok, review please folks! And do I really need to say it…TBC