Disclaimer…I don't own anything. Not House; not the Mamas and the Papas. (BTW…I didn't include the full song, I skipped two verses at the end but they were just repeats.) The quotes are by (in this order) Leo Buscaglia and Woody Allen.

Author's Note…Thanks to everyone for all your lovely reviews! This story is 2 months old today and this is the last chapter…tears…visit my profile if you want to see the summaries for the next story I'm writing along with My Girl. Ok, I just want to say I wrote this note after I finished the chapter and I am hysterical crying so I'm just going to say to review here so…please review! I think I'm going to write an epilogue…please tell me if you want it or if you don't…thanks!

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On Wilson's desk, he still has the same baseball pictures and the clutter is all too familiar. The chair setup hasn't changed, hell; he probably hasn't moved the chairs an inch in his entire career. The Star Wars poster on the wall hasn't lost any color and is as vibrant as the rest of the office. As for Wilson himself; he is a little chunkier, a little shorter, and a little grayer but still a chronic sonneteer.

All these things lead House to believe that the last thirteen years or so of remission were all a ruse and he, well; he was the fool that believed that things had changed.

It's Josh, Libby, Cuddy, and House sitting on one side of the desk with Wilson on the other. Wilson is struck by even though there are five people in his small office; it feels like it's just him and…Cameron. In his mind it's always been Cameron he's been answering to; it was Cameron's grave he visited whenever Libby's cancer had some new development and it was Cameron he said a Mourners Kaddish for every third Saturday in temple and while the words were in Hebrew, he just mumbled I'm sorry over and over again and it was Cameron who was standing across the room, her hands on her hips and her head shaking from side to side because Wilson was going to send her beloved daughter up to heaven much too soon. Wilson gave his head a little shake and surveyed his…audience? They are listening attentively enough. "Maybe we should cut down on the number of people in here."

No one moved, but Libby tightened her grip on Josh's hand. After an awkward moment, Cuddy pushed her chair back and started to get up, but House gave her a pleading look that she couldn't resist. House looked towards Josh, who was comfortingly stroking Libby's hand. And that's when he realized; if Libby wasn't dying and House outlived her, Josh would have been the one to take care of her. And he would cram all that caring into the last months of her life. Libby's fate wasn't being born into this family; it was only a part of it. And the rest of it was Josh.

With this now discovered, House couldn't very well stay there, taking up too much room. So he gave Libby a little nod and went out the door, with a bewildered Cuddy in tow. And just like that, House realized he was wrong; he wasn't losing Libby now. He had been losing her for a while now. Seven years. And that was how it was supposed to be; that's what Libby deserved.

Somehow, this lessened the pain. He felt better, and sank into the depths of denial. If Libby isn't mine to lose, I haven't really lost.

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Wilson could barely bring himself to look Josh and Libby in the eye. Finally, Libby spoke. "Some one already told us the bad part, Uncle Jimmy. Just please tell us how long I…how long I have to live."

Wilson ran his fingers through his hair. "Not very long."

"Could you give us a number?"

"I could…" but I don't want to. "Six to eight weeks."

Josh let out a small gasp and Libby squeezed his hand. "So that's…in sixty days I probably won't be alive. I won't be 19 yet. I…I'll…" Her voice faltered. Wilson rose in his seat and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I'll give you a few minutes alone."

The minute he left, Libby broke down. The tears were falling uncontrollably and the thoughts were pouring in, each one more complex than the last until finally one came in that Libby liked. "Hey Josh? Maybe it's like how in school, I finished everything first."

Josh strained a smile. "Maybe."

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The next five weeks flew by. It was summer so there was no school and although House still believed Josh was Libby's fate, he wouldn't allow them to share a room. But a day didn't go by when Josh didn't visit.

It was after one of these visits Libby was relaxing on the couch. She was still active and managed to not become bedridden. But she was exhausted most of the time. She lay pondering this; how was it that when your body knows it's going to stop working, it loses all its energy. Was it giving up? Or did it simply not have the reserves? Maybe when you're born, your body has a certain stock of life in it, and once you run out, nothing happens anymore. By this logic, it was much better that Libby was dying after living a short but full life than Libby dying after a long but somewhat empty life past the age of nineteen.

While Libby was thinking this; suddenly a new thought popped into her head. Then another one and another one and although she didn't know where she was coming from, she suddenly had to get it all out of her. She ran into the kitchen, where House was making his own coffee for once, one of the things he would have to do for himself from now on. "Dad!"

House looked up, terrified. They only had three weeks left with her, tops, and that number could be cut down at any time and there was nothing to bargain with or beg to. "Yeah?" he asked tentatively.

"Dad, it all makes sense now! Everything! Mom's first marriage, me…dying, everything! Just listen; it's all about company! Mom's husband died so that when Mom died, she wouldn't be alone up in heaven. But sometime soon, in a week or so, his real soulmate or something is going to die, and he's going to be with her. So Mom will be all alone. And we'll know she is because that's going to be when I die. And then I'll get to meet her and…it couldn't have been you that died, because you're not patient enough to wait! I…I'm so happy now, Dad. It all makes sense and it's so much better."

House allowed himself a small smile. It was a nice theory and it certainly made everyone happy. Except one person. "What about Josh and Aunt Lisa?"

"Aunt Lisa's got someone up there for her. And Josh; I'll wait for him. I hope he finds another girl. I already told him to…that one day he has to move on. Besides, I want to pick her out for him."

"Sounds like you've got the afterlife all mapped out."

"Yup. It's looking much better now."

House nodded. "That's good." Then he made a face. "This coffee is awful. Just awful." Why was it he lost everyone that knew how to make coffee?

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The next morning, at exactly 5:01, House awoke with a start and looked around from his bed. The room was very light for that time of day, almost too light. Suddenly, he practically jumped out of bed and hobbled into Libby's room, completely ignoring the beautiful sunrise through the window.

She was gone. There Libby, or her body, was, lying in bed, eclipsed in the new, colorful light, but she wasn't there to enjoy it. House didn't even have to take her pulse or check to see if her chest was rising and falling. He knew just from staring from the other side of the room that he was very, very wrong and that he had lost, fate be damned.

His daughter was dead.

The phone rang. House picked it up and just like that; knew exactly who it was. "Josh, just come over right now." He didn't even say hello or good-bye. In this life, no one really does.

House made slow, cautious steps towards the shell that used to be the only reason he got up and out of bed every day. Her face was empty of any emotion, just everlasting peace. His face wet, House realized that she had never really gotten the chance to get any wrinkles, and maybe it was better that way. He took another step so he was right next to the bed. Slowly, he leaned over and kissed good-bye on her forehead. "Sweet dreams."

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The morning of Libby's funeral, House woke up with a wet pillow and a wet face. He didn't bother to wipe them off; more were sure to come. Still not out of bed, he rolled over to find Cuddy crying into the pillow, not wanting to wake him up but like him, not ready to leave the room either.

He nudged her silently then he realized: you don't need to be awake to cry.

House went the long way to the bathroom…through the kitchen. It hurt like crazy but it was a physical hurt…he could deal with that. It was the emotional hurt that he couldn't handle, which was why he avoided Libby's room at all costs.

Libby's room. House couldn't help himself. As soon as he opened the door, he was attacked by the sweet appley-floraly smell of her perfume and was flooded with memories. The bed was unmade, the closet was open, the clothes she had been wearing the night before she died were in a pile on the floor. And just like that; he knew that this was exactly how the room would stay. But for now, he would keep the door closed.

He would wait for his heart to mend itself.

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When House and Cuddy got to the funeral parlor, Wilson was there carrying a super-pack of tissue boxes. His face was already tear-streaked. Cuddy raised her eyebrows at the ten-pack of tissues.

"I got here at 6 this morning with one of those pocket-packs. But I used all of them up really fast, so I went over to Cosco and bought one of these. I already used one, and the funeral director said to just stuff as many tissues as we need into the seats."

Cuddy half-laughed. She couldn't sum up the energy for a full one. "What were you doing here at six in the morning?"

"I…I just couldn't miss it."

"The service starts at ten. That's in an hour."

"I…it's Libby. I had to be sure."

Cuddy nodded. She understood; today was the one day they had to do everything right for Libby. It was their very last chance. "Do you…do you have your eulogies?" Cuddy choked out the last word. It felt cold and harsh in her mouth but there was no relief once she said it. Actually, it only made it worse.

Both men nodded. House looked up and saw the complete path of a single raindrop as it made its way down from the heavens and onto his forehead. "Did you guys feel that?"

Cuddy and Wilson both shook their heads and gave each other worried looks. The trio stood there for fifteen more minutes in silence, until Wilson finally suggested that they go inside. Everything would change there.

Everything.

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House sat vacantly in the "living-room" in the funeral parlor which was right outside of where the ceremony would be held. Cuddy was sitting right next to him, so close their thighs were touching, even though it was a very large room and there were plenty of other seats. House stared at his empty hands while Cuddy watched Wilson pace the length of one of the three loveseats.

The door slowly creaked open and Wilson hopefully looked up. What are you hoping? That Libby will be behind that door? That this whole ordeal will just be a big misunderstanding? What? Stop setting yourself up for disappointment.

It was Josh. He stepped in without saying anything and sat across from House. He had always been intimidated by him but today, they were on the same playing field. House noticed that he was worrying something between his fingers. House raised himself slightly from the couch and snuck a peak.

It was a photograph. Of Josh and Libby. Even as House allowed himself a small smile at seeing Libby so happy, he wondered how the heck Josh had managed to get a picture of the incredibly camera-shy girl. House looked down to see Joshing handing him the picture.

He examined it, drunk in every small detail from the dimple right under Libby's ear to the small goosebumps on Josh's arm, extended towards the camera as if he were taking the picture, from the laughing smile on Libby's face to the date in the corner. House's heart stopped. It was taken the day she got diagnosed. It hurt.

"Excuse me?"

House looked up to see a small, skinny man in a dark suit. House groaned quietly; he was so indifferent to this guy. "What?" He didn't care that he was rude.

"Hello, my name is Neal Platoni; I'm the funeral director here. I'm so sorry for your loss and I hate to bother you…"

"Then don't" House snapped. Cuddy didn't even bother to give him a look; she was thinking the same thing.

"…But I just have a few things we need to take care of so the service can flow as smoothly as possible. I only have one question; do you have anything you need to give me…some more flowers you want displayed around the funeral, a few photographs of your daughter?"

"I do." Both Wilson and Cuddy gave Josh harsh looks, harsh enough to stop any other person dead in their tracks but Josh slowly got up and handed Mr. Platoni a thin case. "It's Track 20. She said she wanted it to be played continuously."

Mr. Platoni nodded. "And one more thing. I'm…I'm going to need two of you to identify the body."

Wilson and Cuddy gasped but House remembered this. It was the policy of any funeral parlor. As if they were thinking the same thought, House and Josh simultaneously walked into the room where Libby's body lay.

In the four days since she had passed, the smile Libby had been wearing when she died as if she had been having a good dream but was simply interrupted had turned so her mouth was just a pink line. It was probably a result of the trip.

House saw Josh's hand stray from his side and wipe the curl off Libby's face that she was always brushing away. The two of them stood next to the coffin, each bidding their private, silent good-byes. In the back of the room, Mr. Platoni was fumbling with what looked to be a CD-Player. House was so out of it, he didn't even care. He heard the door open a bit and saw Cuddy come towards him. "Come on. You shouldn't stay here."

House looked back towards Libby's body for one last time and made the first steps toward walking away. And as he did, he heard a song that was so Libby, it had to be fate.

Stars shining bright above you

Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you"

Birds singin' in the sycamore tree

Dream a little dream of me

When he went back into the lobby, he saw that it was many people were now milling about. There were some people he recognized; and some he didn't. One lady made her way over House. She had weathered skin, clear brown eyes, and tired blonde hair. "Dr. House? My name is Kara Chance. You don't know me but…your daughter had a heart transplant, right? Well, that heart…it used to belong to my son. My husband didn't want to come but we found out who they gave his heart to and we've been following your story all these years and…well, your daughter lived a beautiful life. And the hurt? It gets better." Mr. Platoni walked over to their small group. "Again, I'm starting to bother you but the service is starting in a couple minutes so you should move into the room now please. Thank you." House ignored him and stared in awe at this Kara Chance and wondered if she knew her last name was an uncommon synonym for hope.

Say nighty-night and kiss me

Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me

While I'm alone and blue as can be

Dream a little dream of me

House, Cuddy, Wilson, and Josh all took their seats in the front. The campus priest from Michigan said a few words and led a few prayers even though none of them had wanted this to be a religious service. After that, Cuddy went up to give her eulogy. She began with factual information, always factual information. You can't blame anyone for the facts. "Ancient Egyptians believed that death, they would be asked two questions and their answers would determine whether they continue in the afterlife. The first question was 'did you find joy?' The second question was 'did you bring joy?' Abigail Kayla House was the type of person who did both…" Wilson's speech was more or less the same. "Libby always knew she was going to die. For her, it was always just a matter of when. When talking about it to me once, she once quoted a famous actor: 'I'm not afraid of death. I just don't want to be there when it happens…'" Josh's was a little different. It was mostly anecdotes about her. And finally, it was House's turn. He still had the eulogy he made in the hospital so many years ago and was clutching it like a lifeline now, but suddenly it didn't seem to matter. He stood up there silent as the tears rolled down for one minute, two minutes, three minutes…

Stars fading but I linger on dear

Still craving your kiss

I'm longing to linger 'till dawn dear

Just saying this

Four minutes, five minutes. Finally, he leaned into the small podium and said clearly "words really don't do her any justice."

Ten minutes later, about thirty people made their way to the cemetery to pay their very last respects. The thump sound the coffin made as it hit the bottom of the hole broke House's heart a million and one times. He diverted his eyes and looked at the tombstone. Underneath the dates and the name and the beloved daughter, etc. was the quote the two of them had decided on a while ago. He had almost forgotten about it, but his had to be fate.

Sweet dreams 'till sunbeams find you

Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you

But in your dreams whatever they be

Dream a little dream of me

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And somewhere up above, a daughter recognized a familiar figure in the crowds; her mom. As for her; she had seen her baby all along. Cameron kissed Libby on top of her forehead, just as her father had done earlier that day, and asked her if she wanted to start from where they left off.

So just like that, she was back in the delivery room except Cameron was alive and Libby was alive and House wasn't there at all. But that was ok…he would be there soon, right after Cameron and Libby had their eighteen years of memories together.

Stars fading but I linger on dear

Still craving your kiss

I'm longing to linger 'till dawn dear

Just saying this

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you

Sweet dreams that leave all worries far behind you

But in your dreams whatever they be

Dream a little dream of me