Disclaimer…Do you even have to ask anymore? If I didn't own House in chapters 1-16, why would I own it in Chapter 17?

Author's Note…Thank you so much for all the mad-awesome reviews. I love them. And this chapter? I think it's going to get sad.

COffeAddict86…Aww…that's so nice! Well, I guess you're not going to like this chapter then (spoiler!) but where I take away from House, I will make up somewhere else.

prinnie…Thank you so much! Hehe, I like "Short-Shorts" too! And there's not a ton of House/Cuddy in this chapter, but there will be next chapter.

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Sixth Grade

"Happy birthday to you!

Happy birthday to you!

Happy birthday dear Lisa!

Happy birthday to you!"

If Cuddy felt any embarrassment at being sung to by her "professional inferiors" and eleven-year old to boot on a lonely Friday, she didn't show it. She liked to think that she kept her crazy in check.

She leaned over the cake that Libby and Wilson that they had made a couple days ago (actually, probing from House to both parties had proved that Libby did the entire thing, right down to the "Happy 29th" while Wilson had watched a baseball game) had made her. House had point blank refused to help because "no matter how big the cake would be, there would simply not be enough room for those candles! And what would be the point of a cake without candles? None! There would be no point!"

Cuddy blew out the candles and cut the cake. She briefly wondered why she was still having birthday parties. She was (shudder) 46 years old for goodness sakes, why did she take part in this cringe-worthy ritual. It was a conspiracy, she decided. What else could it be? One is forced to ruin their diet and stuff one's face with calories (although granted, the cake was quite good), accept either horrifyingly distasteful gifts or horrifyingly bland gifts, and then waste an hour writing personalized thank-you notes. Yes, definitely a conspiracy.

But there was one good attribute to this day…Cuddy was finally going to one of Libby's track meets, the final one for her elementary school. House rarely brought anyone along with him to these events besides Wilson, but Wilson was in New York for his mother's birthday and Libby had insisted that Cuddy come.

Actually, the entire week for Libby seemed bright. Today: track meet. Tomorrow: Dinner cruise for the students and parents of the sixth grade class. Technically, Cuddy wasn't a parent but House had invited her, saying that Wilson simply did not have the correct reproductive system to be his date. She knew it wasn't a date, and that she shouldn't entertain herself with the notion that it was and that she should really go on an actual date, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. In the back of her mind, Cuddy kept on believing that one day, everything would just fall into place. Besides, she was one of two legal guardians. And medical proxy if, G/d forbid, Libby was sick and needed treatment and House couldn't decide what to do and even the thought made Cuddy nauseous. Right, just erase that from your mind. And on Monday, Libby would graduate. Cuddy hadn't dared to dream that Libby would get a glimpse over the first grade horizon but here House was, getting letters from the school informing him that Libby would be enrolled as an all-honors student unless he called her future-guidance counselor at so-and-so number to pull her out.

Cuddy smiled to herself. Yes, despite little bumps in the road, everything finally seemed to be going well for her Houses.

Unfortunately, things are most opportune to go bad when they are going well.

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Cuddy surveyed her surroundings. She was sitting with House in the crowded bleachers, munching on a hotdog. (Man, your diet has really gone to#&$.) She leaned over to House. "This the last race?"

"Yeah. No more track 'till next fall."

"Oh."

"It'll be good for her, to take a little break. She really likes it, ya know?"

"I know. She's got a passion."

House laughed. "She's got five passions."

Cuddy looked up. "Oh really?"

"Yeah." House counted off his fingers. "Track, school, cooking…you know she had the best time making that cake…umm, that art thing she does…what's it called?"

"I know what you're talking about, the thing the school sponsers? That's over too, right?"

"Yeah, it's only for the elementary schools. But I'm sure she'll find something next year. And the fifth one is having many a 'lively discussion' with me."

"Oh? About what?"

"Which radio station to play in the car."

Cuddy laughed out loud. See, this is why it's so hard for you to go on dates. It's never natural like this. No one else will ever make you feel like this.

Down at the starting point, Libby was sweating mildly and breathing heavily. Her chest felt tight and she was uncomfortably warm, but she was sure it was nothing if not nerves.

"Runners take your marks…"

Libby got into her typical starting position as House and Cuddy strained to see.

"Get set…"

Suddenly, House felt incredibly nervous. He didn't know what if was from; he had never acted like one of those overly-competitive parents. Maybe it was because this would be Libby's last elementary race. But that still didn't make any sense.

"GO!"

It was as though her legs were jelly. Libby was way behind everyone, and they were almost a quarter of the way done. Push harder.

Half-way done. Cuddy nudged House. "What's going on? Why is she going so slow for this one?" Push. Harder.

Three-quarters of the way done. House stared helplessly at the scene that was playing out before his eyes. "I don't know." PUSH HARDER!

Suddenly, Libby found her funk. She didn't know where all this strength was coming from and her chest felt so tight and she knew that something was wrong and that she should stop but she kept going and going and going until she passed the competitor's red faces and crossed the finish line, her own face pale as a ghost's. Exhausted, Libby closed her eyes and welcomed the sudden darkness as her body hit the cool grass.

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At first, House thought she was tired and was being dramatic. After all, that was an incredible feat she had just accomplished and she was tired a lot as of late. But then again, she was never dramatic and certainly not dramatic in front of people she didn't know.

The track, the benches for the runners, the bleachers, all were in a shocked silence. It had been ten seconds, a minute, a day, six years (six years since she was sick) since Libby fell. Mr. Ian ran over to her unmoving body and pulled out her wrist. "Someone call an ambulance!"

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House and Cuddy raced each other to the track. House crashed beside his daughter's still body and held her hand. His heart broke; he felt no pulse. Cuddy was shouting out medical terms to House, but he heard nothing except his own heart beating steadily inside his own chest. He put his hand on her face. She was burning up. House had never pinched himself before, never believed nothing in his life wasn't reality.

Now, as he watched the EMT's strap his little girl onto a gurney, he pinched his arm, hard.

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Six hours later, New York

Wilson flipped open his cell phone and noticed that he had three new messages.

"Hey Jim, it's Mike, I heard you were in town and I wanted to know if you wanted to catch lunch or something tomorrow. Ok, you know my number. Call me anytime." Wilson groaned. He hated Mike.

"Hi, Jimmy. It's me, Nina. Umm, Mike called…you remember Mike? Mike Peterson? Anyway, I wanted to know if you wanted to get together for dinner, or coffee, or something. Ok, call me. Buh-bye." Wilson smiled. Nina was quite…promiscuous and he didn't doubt her intentions. Oh well. He could certainly benefit from a visit with Nina.

The third caller didn't leave a name or number or friendly message, just a scared, scared voice, but it sent Wilson speeding down towards PPTH. "Wilson. Libby's sick."

Author's Note…(Dodges rotten fruit.) Awww…sad. Ok, before you start with the moldy bananas, note that most small cell lung cancers come back within a year. Libby had six. It's realistic for her to relapse. And I'm not necessarily going to kill her. Remember what the title is here though…but hey. At least you got you've still got a Cuddy/House thing going on. I'm not going to give House much angst there…take that as you like. By the way…I'm not sure how I'm going to end the cancer storyline, but if she doesn't live, I'm pretty sure I know when she will die. Ok, review please!