Disclaimers…Seriously, disclaimers are so hot. Ok, you know the drill…I don't own anything. Not House, not Pokemon, not Kraft, not Marco OR Polo…yeah, yeah, don't go mockin' the pathetic!

Author's Note…Thank you so much to those who reviewed. I read them and I squeal…quite embarrassing, actually. Anyway, this chapter should be nice to read…major time jumps. Ok…enjoy and review!

And let me just note to blueyedluv...I'm sorry I can't post this on the regular review board but it wasn't working for me for some reason. So it's going here: I have waited quite a while to read your story and let me tell you something. It was so worth the wait. Wow. That was amazing…I loved it. It was a nice take on the way things in my opinion should have gone down…but then we wouldn't have gotten "3 Stories." Oh well. I can't wait for an update.

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First Grade

"House!"

"Polo!"

"House!"

"I said polo. This is pretty generous of me, considering that you're actually supposed to say 'Marco' which is not pronounced 'House.'"

"Where are you!"

"I can't tell you! That would ruin the game!"

Cuddy resisted the urge to scream and continued running around House's apartment, looking for him. She didn't know what she was doing there, or what she had done last night, but the hangover-like headache was pretty tell-tale. Cuddy and House weren't dating, but it was painstakingly obvious to everyone (well, everyone that could stand to be around House so that narrows it down to Wilson, Libby, and…Cuddy) around them that they wanted to be. Cuddy continued the stomping and nearly ran Libby over on her way to the kitchen.

"Oh, sorry sweetie."

Libby looked up, confused. "Umm, that's ok. What are you doing here?"

Cuddy opened and closed her mouth, not exactly sure what to say. She opted for the truth. "You know what? I'm not exactly sure."

Libby murmured "great" but Cuddy was too wrapped up in her own thoughts that she was voicing aloud to notice.

"I mean, this is very weird for me. I never wake up in some random guy's apartment, especially not with a hangover. My drunken self knows better than that."

Libby resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She was only six and a half, but after living with her dad and his…honest ways she knew exactly what it meant to be drunk and hungover. House had never told her what sex was or had The Talk but after a while, she had gotten tired of hearing all his jokes to his many friends (all two of them) and asked Wilson what he was talking about. Wilson had stuttered and bumbled before finally explaining where babies come from. Libby, innocent as she was, hadn't been expecting such an answer and was so embarrassed that she couldn't look at Wilson for a week. Needless to say, this ruined their plan of never mentioning their little chat to House. "He's in the shower."

Cuddy blinked. "What?"

"He got in about ten minutes ago, which is a really long time for him, which means he did something…with you last night that he's thinking about really hard."

"Oh…ok…well, I have to go to work now, so bye."

"Um, Aunt Lisa?'

"Yeah?"

"You might want to go home and get changed first."

Cuddy looked down and noticed for the first time that she was wearing one of House's t-shirts, a pair of his boxers, and nothing else. She blushed. Well, you've just scarred the child for life. Nice job. "Oh, yeah. I'll…I'll go do that." And horrified, she grabbed her purse and turned towards the door to leave.

"Wait!"

Cuddy whirled around just in time to catch her car keys that Libby tossed to her. "Thanks!" And with that she rushed out the door, thoroughly embarrassed with herself. It had been happening much too much lately.

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Cuddy was engaged in her usual "why did I even apply for this job?" strut when she saw House walking away from the clinic. She debated whether she should run up to him or run away from him. Seeing as she was wearing heals, she opted for walking sassily up to him and barely resisted the urge to slap him across the face.

House seemed to notice her for the first time that day and he resisted to the urge to slap her across her face.

"Hey, Hot Pants."

Cuddy gaped at his brutal…well; she liked to think that last bit was honest.

"Hey, Man Whore."

"Our Native American names are so much cooler than Foreman's."

Cuddy blinked in confusion. "What's Foreman's?"

"Don't-Make-Me-Snap-My-Fingers-In-An-S-Form-A-Tion!"

"Ok, that's just stupid."

"Foreman begs to differ."

"Well, either way, I came to inform you that you are now directionally impaired."

"Oh?"

"The clinic's that way."

"Oh, darn. I get confused a lot lately. Maybe I shouldn't even be treating patients anymore."

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Oh, you're so clever. I bet you're just beating the girls down with that hot cane of yours."

"Well, apparently, the cane isn't strong enough for some women I know."

Cuddy gasped. "Well, if you want to talk about last night than FINE!"

"Fine! Let's talk! You just…left without even…doing anything!"

"Oh, I think I did plenty!'

"Don't even go there. Then, after you leave Libby comes into the kitchen to tell me that she's not sure what we did last night, and that she doesn't want to know, but that she doesn't think that I would like it if a boy did that to her!"

"Libby said that?"

"Yes, she did!"

Cuddy took a few deep breaths. "Then why don't you…me…we try and not do that?"

"Gee, I think it's a tad too late for that."

"To have a relationship?"

House opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. His mouth was suddenly dry. Finally, he…well, it sounded like he regurgitated something out. "What?"

"Oh come on, House. We both know that we have feelings for each other, I promise that if things don't work out, I won't fire you or anything, you're a bastard to begin with so if things don't work out, then your misdemeanor won't change, and you've already proved that you don't have a huge problem with dating someone who works with you."

House stared at her. Oh, very nice Lisa. Bringing up the guy's ex-love to prove your point that he should love you is the best way to his heart. Nice job. No wonder you're single.

At last, House said something. "It's not about that."

Cuddy pounced. "It's not about what?"

"It's not that we…listen, the thing is, I can't do a square job as a parent even if I was paired with June Cleaver, so by myself I'm…you're doing a…you're being her mom and you're doing more than a square job."

Cuddy took a step back. He was, of course, was right. If things didn't work out between the two of them, Libby would get hurt as well.

"You're right. But for the record, I wish you weren't." Cuddy turned and walked away as House stared sadly after her.

And so it was(n't.)

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Third Grade

"Tommy Carnelle and Matt Page!"

The third grade watched as the fastest boys in the class raced each other around the dirty red track. Mr. Ian, the gym teacher, watched with some pride as he gripped an old stopwatch. Tommy Carnelle crossed the finish line a couple seconds before Matt Page. "And time! That's better than the fourth graders, Tommy, nice job. Anyone want to go up against him? We've still got another fifteen minutes left!"

Brianna Harrison nudged Libby. "I dare ya!" The girls surrounding the pair all shouted in agreement and pushed Libby forward. Libby twisted her head towards them. "You guys stink" she joked.

The two took their place at the starting line. As he raised the whistle to his mouth, Libby could have sworn she saw him roll his eyes. But she figured that it could have been the glint of the sun off the whistle or something like that.

Mr. Ian blew the whistle and the pair took off. Libby was literally kicking up dirt behind her. It feels like flying. She wasn't even paying attention to the race, just this…incredible feeling in the pit of her stomach.

And before she knew it, the race was over and her friends were cheering like madness. Mr. Ian patted her hard, almost angrily, on the back. "Good job. Beat the school record for some of the fifth graders."

Some of the boys whooped. Tommy walked over to them and muttered that he just lost because he was tired. ("Fifteen seconds worth of tired!")

Libby walked back over to her friends. "I won?"

"Ya, in a major way!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, Libby, you should have seen that, it was awesome, it was like…woah."

Libby laughed it off and blushed. "Whatever, ladies."

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Dinner for House and Libby when they got to have it was a sacred thing. It was rare that House got off work early enough to eat with his daughter, let alone sit down with her. So, the two created a set of rules for the occasion. One of those such rules was the "take no phone calls (just pages)" rule, which House suspected would come into play many a time when Libby entered middle school and high school.

So, that night, when the phone rang during dinner, neither of them moved to go get it. They carried on their conversation about what was the point of animal and character shaped macaroni and cheese…to promote cannibalism? which House had taught the definition to Libby (that night they were having "Pokemon" Kraft macaroni and cheese.) The phone rang and it rang and it rang until finally House jumped up and answered the phone.

"What do you want?" He sounded annoyed and mildly tired.

"Hello errrm, Dr. House? This is Mr. Ian, Libby's gym teacher? I…"

House mocked him. "Are you going to keep talking in that high pitched voice? And make every statement as a question?" Back at the table, Libby's head was in her hands…part-gratitude, part-anger, part-sympathy, and part-embarrassment.

"Ummm…well, today Libby had gym and we were doing track, and Libby did very well. Exceptionally well."

"I seeeeeeee."

"Yeah, so well that I would like to include her in next week's District Track Meet. Primarily, it's only for fourth, fifth, and sixth graders but since Libby beat out a few of the records…the school wanted to know if we could get oral confirmation that she would be going."

"I guess, sure. When is it?"

"Next Sunday, at 11:30. Some one will have to take her."

"Oh, oh no, looks like we're going through a tunnel…I think I'm losing you…"

"But I called on a land phone…"

"We…live…in…mobile…home…too…late…bye!" House smirked as he hobbled back to the table.

"Who was that?"

"Your gym teacher."

Libby groaned. "Dad! You were making fun of my teacher?"

"Why does it still surprise you?"

Libby shrugged. "It doesn't surprise me. It just…stupidfies me."

"Stupefy."

"Oh yeah. Haha."

It never ceased to amaze House that any daughter of his, or rather, anyone that ever lived with him, was able to laugh off any mistake that he pointed out.

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Thursday, Friday, and then Saturday came and went and soon it was the day of the meet. House had been looking forward to this with silent anticipation. Actually, it wasn't so much silent as it was not being able to get a word in because Wilson was too busy talking about it. He had apparently done track in high school and college and liked to think Libby his little protégé. He even showed her a picture of himself just before a track meet. She brought it to her father who now called Wilson "Short-Shorts" as punishment for leaving so little of the male anatomy up to Libby's imagination.

House was sitting on the bleachers when he spotted Wilson coming towards him. As he got nearer, House grabbed the opportunity to publicly mock him.

"Who…Wears…Short-Shorts?

He…Wears…Short-Shorts"

Wilson grabbed the cane right before House burst into further song. "Way to ruin a good time there, Short-Shorts."

"It was only a good time for you."

"Yes, but still, a good time."

"Shut up. When's Libby going?"

"Ten minutes."

"How's she doing?"

"All nerves. Big kids."

"She's not here. Where is she?"

"Well, she was really nervous, so I gave her a joint to mellow her out. I also gave her some steroids so she's still an edge."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Hahaha, nothing's funnier than kids on drugs."

"Except doctors on drugs!"

"Seriously, where is she?"

"Right here!" Libby jumped up onto the bleachers in the comically big school shirt the school had given her to wear. Wilson resisted the urge to laugh and was about to say something when House commented first.

"When do you go?"

"A couple minutes. I just wanted to make sure you were here and stuff. Did you get a hotdog or something?"

"Nope, but I will later."

"Ok."

Wilson finally chimed in. "How ya feelin'?"

The horn that signified the race would be starting soon blared. Libby glanced at the tracks.

"Mellow and yellow. Got to go, bye!" She rushed down the stairs as House dissolved in laughter.

"What's so funny?"

"My kid's so cool" House gasped out. The horn rang out again and House turned his attention to the runners. Libby looked incredibly small next to everyone else, but she ran like nobody's business. She easily beat out the competition in the first, second, and third round. The fourth round was finals, and Libby was the only one left from her school. The runners took their place as someone…a district official or something…stepped up in front of the crowd.

"I would like to commend our young runners who have made it thus fair. It was quite a challenge for these youngsters. I remind everyone that there are no winners or losers in this sport, just…"

"Blah, blah, blah."

"Wilson! Me is shocked! Me didn't know you had a competitive streak!"

Wilson rolled his sighs. "I became Head of Oncology when I was 36. What did you think?"

The fourth race began. This was the first one Libby had someone she could heartily compete against, and House could tell she was loving it. He remembered when he could run. He loved it too.

Libby came in second place, her first for the day. The judges placed a medal around her neck that was so heavy, it virtually slumped her body over. House smiled and cheered. It felt good to be back in the game.