Disclaimer…Make love, not lawsuits! Haha…I don't own anything Houseish. Except for Libby and Harrison, and Samantha. Libby's good to have on my side, but who cares about Harrison? And Samantha? Puh-lease!
Author's Note…TWENTY-ONE REVIEWS! Holy cow! I love my reviewers! You guys made my day. Seriously…wow. Awesomeness. BTW…I got a couple reviews saying that Libby wasn't in total character for a three year old…this is totally my fault. I didn't make it clear enough that most of the time she is quoting House. But she is a bright kid. By the way, I love my reviewers.
It had been three months since Libby was diagnosed. She had gotten many infections, up until the point Wilson advised House to admit Libby into a more-permanent room after about a month and a half.
House didn't know which part of that arrangement he hated more; that Libby was so sick, she couldn't live at home or that he was living alone. The latter made him feel selfish, the former he hated in itself.
He knew it was for the best, Libby needed to be monitored, she was losing weight, she needed a nutrient IV, there were a million reasons he thought of the night she got moved to a more lasting room. But the only one on his mind was that he couldn't give her what she needed at home.
He wasn't enough.
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One rainy afternoon, House strolled into Libby's room at an unusual time (everyone that regularly visited her was working now) to find it empty and the bed tightly made. Irrational fear gripped his heart and House race-hobbled down the hallway, yelling out for Wilson or a nurse, anyone.
No fear is irrational when your kid has cancer.
House limped past room after sorrowful room, and allowed himself a peak in each one. With every child were two parents, maybe some grandparents, scattered aunts and uncles, unruly nieces and nephews.
Add that to the list of things House couldn't give Libby. A (biological) family.
But the scene in one room caught his eye. Two girls, little girls Libby's age, one bald, were sitting on a bed, chatting and giggling with each other. One of them looked at the door and saw House standing there.
"Hey, Dad! Dad, this is my friend, Sari. Sari, this is my dad. Hey, Dad, Sari has cancer too, but she has radio-nation and I have chemo."
The Little-Girl-Whose-Name-Was-Sari looked up and smiled shyly at House. House basically ignored her and turned his attention back to Libby.
"Libby, you scared me. You can't just leave your room. You have to tell someone."
"Dad, I go everyday."
"Why?"
"I like Sari."
"Well, you…it's not fair to just leave."
Oh, very nice. Making her feel guilty for facing the possibility of dying. And probably making her feel guilty for her mother. Good job. Father-Of-The-Year award goes to…Greg House, for making his daughter feel guilty about her mother's death and her own likely death.
The hell? When did I start thinking so freely about Libby dying? When did I start accepting it as "likely."
"Likely" could never work.
"Dad? Dad!"
House snapped out of it and looked down to see Libby standing next to him, lightly tugging on his pant leg.
"Yeah?"
"Come on, you said you wanted me to go. Bye, Sari!"
"Bye!"
House shut the door and stood outside The-Girl-Whose-Name-Was-Sari's room for a minute with Libby. He leaned up against it and sighed. Libby's expression changed from slightly annoyed to slightly worried.
"Dad?"
"Libs, I'll meet you back in your room in ten minutes ok? I just gotta talk to Uncle Jimmy."
Libby ran ahead and House shifted his position against the door. The People-Who-Seemed-To-Be-Sari's-Parents suddenly tapped on House's shoulder.
"What?"
"Why are you standing outside my daughter's room?"
"Oh, it's a funny story. You see, I was just randomly walking around; I'm homeless just so ya know, and I came across this here hospital! So I, being homeless and stupid, walked in. I strolled around here for a bit, as I needed an empty room. Then some doctors came in to this room we're standing outside of, and came out with a gurney with some kind of lump under a white sheet. I wasn't sure what it was, but some nice nurse said that she would have the room sterilized for me in a few minutes. I was glad I gots me a room, because now I don't have to knife anyone tonight!"
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A very annoyed and leg-achy House found Wilson in the Oncology Lab, instensly studying some X-Rays.
"Hey."
Wilson jumped back as if he had been shocked, but when he saw his friend's face, he went resignedly back to his X-Rays.
"I said 'hey.'"
"I heard" Wilson said in a very off-handed way.
"I've been practicing. Just for you."
"I'm honored."
"I've also been practicing this nifty little trick with my cane, also just for you. And I've done some experimenting with the clipboard. Brace yourself for some whacky-whacky tonight!"
Wilson looked up, disgusted. "Ew."
"Now that I've got your attention, what do you know about this girl, Sharry? Shorrie? Sandy? Saminna? What are her chances of surviving?"
"Sari, you idiot. Doctor/patient confidentially, sorry, not telling anything. I know it's a pretty new concept to you, but you'll live."
"Why are you in such a bad mood? Wait…is it that time of the month again?"
"It's Libby."
"Libby's getting a time of the month already? They grow up so fast."
"No, it's Libby's X-Rays."
Inwardly, House panicked. And when he panicked, he did only one thing. Sarcasm.
"Libby's X-Rays are getting a time of the month? Wow."
If Wilson wasn't best friends with House and didn't know, or at least thought he knew him inside-out, Wilson would have physically beat House up.
Instead, the X-Rays legally binded him to killing him emotionally.
"You know, there's a kind of a Murphy's Law to Oncology."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. In normal cases if the chemo makes you really sick, that's a good sign. It means your body is reacting strongly to the chemo. But if you don't get sick, no vomiting, no infections, or very little of that, then it usually means your body is resistant to the chemo."
House caught the right word. "Normal?"
Wilson sighed and showed House the X-Rays. "House, she's not responding to the treatment."
The knot that had been permanently residing in House's stomach for the past three months doubled in its strength.
"Then what do we do?"
"We can try radiation and combine it with the chemo. That'll probably do something. Then, after a while with that, we can do surgery."
"Ok."
Wilson practically did a double-take. When had House ever been so accepting?
"Ok?"
"Yeah. Ok. I'll go tell Libby now."
House rushed out, the lab had gotten too small for him. He sighed as he remembered that he had to go to an even smaller room. He walked fast, yet so slow. Cuddy was coming at him from the other direction, on her way to answer a "bad news" page from Wilson. The two nearly crashed into each other. Cuddy gasped and muttered an apology but House just kept on walking.
Cuddy hurried down to the lab and saw Wilson grimly staring at the X-Ray board.
"What's up?"
Wilson looked sadly at her. "It's Libby. She's not responding to the treatment."
Cuddy furiously wiped her eyes and her voice quivered. "Is…what's going to happen?"
Wilson looked her in the eye, then back to the board, then at the picture taken at Libby's second birthday party. He traced the outline of her small face with his finger, and smiled fondly at the girl no one had ever truly gotten the chance to know. Then he inevitably looked back at Cuddy.
"She's not terminal, but…but she's going to die."
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A few hours later, Wilson found House stalking around the hospital courtyard. He stepped gingerly toward him and everything that left his mouth was thought over with the utmost carefulness.
"Hey."
House glanced up sullenly. "Oh. Hey."
"What's up?"
House cocked up his eyebrow. Wilson's attempt at normalcy failed miserably.
"Did you tell her yet?"
"Nope."
"Well, when are you?"
"Thirteen days."
"Thirteen days? What's wrong with you?"
"We have to wait."
"Why!"
"Her birthday's next Friday. She'll be four. If she finds out about that we might do something other than chemo, she'll want to start it immediately."
And suddenly Wilson understood. The radiation would make Libby sick. House didn't want Libby to be sick on this particular birthday.
And that was because Libby's test results had further proven that this would probably be Libby's last birthday. Even with treatment.
Wilson's heart broke for his friend. "Ok. We'll wait."
"How long do you think we have?"
Wilson was shocked by the bluntness of House's question. But then again, he was asking how much longer his daughter, not yet four, had to live. There was really no other way to ask it.
"We can deter till she's five, maybe."
Now it was House's turn to look shocked. "I meant how long we had until we were on the 'one day makes all the difference' schedule, you idiot!"
House walked off angrily as Wilson put his head in his hands. He's right, you are an idiot. Why do you always have to assume the worst? Seriously…
"Hey, Jimmy."
Wilson looked up. It was Samantha. Good. I could use a nice rendezvous in the custodial closet. G/d, what am I thinking? This isn't me!
Wilson got up and hugged her. "Hey, baby. What are you doing here?"
"I just thought you might want some lunch." Samantha held out a brown paper bag.
Wilson smiled at her. "You want to come up to my office?"
Samantha grinned coyly at him. "I sure do."
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Twenty minutes later, Samantha stormed out of the janitorial closet. She was much too well-bred to scream out some nasty comment in front of everyone, but decided that her now ex-boyfriend could really benefit from a good kick in the nobles.
While this little scene occurred, House was rounding the corner on the Oncology Floor. House missed the little scene between the two lovebirds but he did see Wilson hopping around in a little circle, cupping his crouch.
"Ladies and gentleman, Dr. James Wilson does the Potty Dance. Hit it, Jimmy!" House did a mock dance number which involved much twirling of the cane until a still-groaning Wilson called out to House to "shut the !# up."
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Thursday, the day before Libby' makeshift birthday party in her hospital room…
"Dad, do you know where Sari is?"
House and Cuddy looked up. Cuddy was doing the crossword puzzle and House was reading a case file. "Nope, sorry. Uhhh, Cuddy, do you mind staying in her for a few seconds while I, errrr, run some tests?"
Both Cuddy and Libby looked surprised at House's sudden politeness and uncomfortable demeanor. But Cuddy knew when to take a hint.
"Yeah, sure. No problem." If Libby noticed anything odd about the two adults behavior, she said nothing. I can't believe she bought that. Has she ever met House?
I can't believe she bought that. Has she ever met me?
House chose not to read any further into this than he should (though his mind was already chanting "brain tumor! Brain tumor!") and went off to find Wilson.
After ten minutes of painful stalking, he did.
"Hey."
Wilson jumped about a mile in the air. "What the…oh. Hey, House."
"You seem almost disappointed that I'm not here to hold a gun to your head."
"Har. Har. Har."
"Hey, remember Saminna?"
"You mean Sari?"
"Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe."
"Why would anyone want to conquer pants? Oh, France! Ahhh…if only I had heard you correctly, college-Wilson, you would be France's president. But alas, now you only have your roommate's pants."
"The hell?"
"Never mind. You didn't hear about Sari? She died yesterday."
"Oh, crap."
"Oh, very nice House. A little girl's death ruined your plans, so now you're mad at her. Why, you teddy bear."
"Wilson? Just make sure Libby doesn't find out about this, ok?"
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"Hey Dad! Did you see Sari on your way back?"
"Ummm, no I didn't. But I did see her mom. The thing is, sweetie, she…well she went home."
Libby grinned. "She did! She's all better!"
House paused. How can I deflate this little girl? If she finds out about Sari dying, and she already knows she was on radiation, well I can't lie to her about the treatment she's going receive and she might refuse to have it. And Sari was…it's been so hard for Libby. This might make her give up the fight. She can't; we're already losing.
She can't know. Not yet.
"Well…she won't ever be sick again. Nothing can touch her now."
"That's great! Can I call her? I want to tell her how happy I am!"
"Well, that's the other thing. You see…sometimes, when something really bad happens to you, like cancer, you don't want to remember. You want to forget everything about it. So, everything that reminds you of it, you get rid of. Your hospital pajamas, your stuffed animals…"
Libby spoke softly. "…Your friends."
House leaned back in his chair and looked visibly pained to be telling his daughter this terrible, terrible, lie, but it was his only choice.
Cuddy looked aghast at House. This was a new low. She had kept her mouth shut throughout that entire stupid conversation but this was too much.
"House, go down to the clinic."
"What!"
"You were supposed to be down there an hour ago. I'm going easy on you."
"But Mo-om! It's not dark yet! You said I could stay out 'till it's dark! Come on, Scooter and Mickey are going roller-blading. They said they would teach me."
Cuddy's eyes were blocks of ice and her words gave House a chill. "I need to speak to you outside. Right now."
The duo stood in the hallway, and stared each other down. Finally, Cuddy broke.
"What the hell is wrong with you House?"
"Nice introduction and exsqueeze me?"
"Who do you think you are, piling everything bad that's ever happened to you on Libby? That poor girl, do you have any idea what she's going through?"
"What are you talking about?"
"When something bad happens to you…you just want to forget…you want to get rid of everything. You basically told her you wanted to get rid of her, because you couldn't find another way to forget Cameron!"
Suddenly, a paternal rage filled House from the bottom of his toes six feet and three inches up to the top of his head. The rage was so strong, so hot, that he felt it burning both his feet. He sneered at her.
"Who the hell do you think you are? How dare you accuse me of hating Libby? How dare you accuse me of wanting to get rid of her? And how DARE you talk about Allison like that!"
Cuddy's heart melted. She had seen House mean, she had seen House in pain, but she had never seen him angry like this. He wasn't even angry at this point, he was livid. And it killed her that she had caused it. The tears ran freely down Cuddy's face. She didn't even know who she was angry with at this point.
"If you don't feel that way, then why would you say those things to Libby?"
"She's my daughter, she knows exactly what I meant, and you have no right to interpret what I say to her."
Cuddy wanted to scream. So she did.
"YOU DAMN WELL KNOW THAT LIBBY'S AS MUCH MY DAUGHTER AS SHE IS YOURS. DON'T YOU DARE THINK, NOT FOR A SINGLE SECOND, THAT I DON'T LOVE HER AS MUCH AS YOU DO. NOT FOR A SECOND."
House took a step back and resisted the urge to spit on her. His dad had always taught him not to hit girls, but this time was different. This was for his girl. Like he could even tell who that was anymore.
Suddenly, their argument was interrupted by the crazy beeping of Libby's monitors. House stood paralyzed as everyone besides him rushed in there to save his daughter's life. House didn't move, he watched her vitals through the glass wall. He focused on her heart.
Up, down, up, down, up, down, up…flat.
Author's Note…I know, I know, I'm absolutely evil to leave you guys hanging like that. Holy guacamole, that was a long chapter. Don't worry, I promise I'll update soon. Until then…a poem…I love my critics, yes I do, but only when the leave a review! My reviewers are good and fair, but when they don't say anything I want to rip out my hair! Please Review!