A/N: Young Girl was just going to be a one-shot, but I've decided to go ahead and turn it into a series of vignettes and snapshots throughout Gregory and Layla's lives. Fair warning, though, there is a lot of turmoil in their relationship.
Let's jump back a few hours now.

13 May 1988, at a social event at Johns Hopkins

Gregory House was annoyed. He hadn't even intended to go to this thing as it was only a networking type of mixer for students and alumni. But one of his professors, one Dr. John Becker, had egged him into attending by convincing him that he would meet a lovely young woman who possessed some unique talents.

So House had shaved and put on a suit and went to the damned party that Becker was so keen on. "Fine, I'm here," he mumbled. "So where's this girl you want to hook me up with?"

"I said introduce to you. I'm not in the habit of ensuring a fun night for my students. Just, uh, hold your horses, there. She's pretty popular. About to go off to Harvard Med come fall. She's, uh, she's really something, you know?" the older man seemed almost proud of this woman.

House wondered what made her so special and just how his professor knew she was 'really something,' as he'd called her. He scanned the room briefly, searching for anyone else worth talking to when he spotted a woman who took his breath away.

Only for today, I am unafraid. Take my breath away . . . drifted from the speakers. She was surrounded by people, mingling, smiling, laughing, conversing.

"Oh!" Becker cried out, mildly surprised. "There she is. Let's go steal her away from the crowd before someone else does."

He had been entranced by her. He hadn't counted on her to look so charming, so captivating . . . So alluring.

As House and Becker crossed the room, House couldn't help but think that, before too long, he could fall in love with her. 'Damn songs keep seeping into my mind,' he silently cursed. 'Can't the DJ play something that won't coincide with what I'm feeling?

Becker cleared his throat before speaking. He hoped this would go well. "Gregory House, this is Aileen Becker. My daughter."

House's jaw dropped. Daughter? "Oh, uh, it's . . . a pleasure to meet you, Eileen," he stammered as he took the hand she offered; it was small and delicate, a complete contrast to his large, calloused digits. "Dr. Becker's been telling me you're heading off to Harvard. You don't like Hopkins?"

"Oh, well, of course, I like Hopkins. It's been home for the last couple of years. But I've wanted to go to Harvard since I was a child. It is, after all, where both my parents went to medical school." She smiled as though he should understand her pride in that fact. "And you, Doctor House? What are your plans?"

Why was she so interested in what he would do? What did she want from him? "Um, I finish my final year of med school next year."

"And after that?" she prompted.

"I . . . Uh . . . haven't really thought that far ahead. Whatever happens, happens, I guess, Eileen."

She seemed satisfied with his answer and nodded, a curious look on her face.

Aileen was standing near her father, and a waiter came by with a wine flute for her. Noticing his concerned look, she told him, "It's just ginger ale, Dad."

"Why would it matter? You an alcoholic?" House asked with a certain level of snarkiness.

'He's not one for the trivialities of small talk, she made a mental note. 'Hmm, does not seem comfortable socialising . . . ' She gazed up at him with a funny little smirk. "No, more like I'm only seventeen. Or," she rectified as she gestured with her glass, "I will be next week."

'Only seventeen, huh? And I know what that means,' House thought grimly to himself. 'That song fits even better than I'd thought. Another year before dating her wouldn't be illegal. Like she'd date a guy like me anyway. She could have her pick of men, someone without my . . . . issues.'

But something in the way she looked at him made him wonder.

Becker had seen that expression before. About twenty years ago, when he was a student at Harvard. He smiled to himself, remembering when he and Sarah had met. 'Ohohoho, nohoho!' he thought to himself with horror. His only little girl was absolutely not going to get involved with someone like Gregory House. For one thing, he was several years older; for another, he was highly opinionated and self-centred. And for another, she . . . well, she just wasn't and that's all there was to it.

Then again, he had introduced them in the hope that Aileen could help House overcome that G-d-complex and almost insatiable need to find a puzzle everywhere he looked. But, just because she helped him with whatever psychological or emotional issues he had did not mean that they would get romantically involved! She'd likely have a few counselling sessions with him over the summer and be done with him. Yes, that was how it would go. Then Leenie would be at Harvard, safely away from House.

What Becker saw next nearly had him screaming. But, no, he had to maintain his composure and not make a scene.

House held a hand out to Aileen and asked "Shall we?" Granted, the song was a fairly old one, but, when he'd noticed she was swaying and humming along with the music, he wanted to know what it felt like to hold her in his arms. Even if the dreamy expression on her face was brought about by the song, he could pretend it was because she enjoyed dancing with him.

Now I don't hardly know her
But I think I could love her . . .
My mind's such a sweet thing
I wanna do ev-er-ything
What a beautiful feeling
Crimson and clover

The way they moved together was nothing short of amazing. Despite the disparity in their heights, they fit as though they had been made for each other.

"So, Eileen, did your dad tell you why he wanted us to meet?"

"Well, Gregory," she noticed the odd look in his eyes as she called him by his first name. "I guess I should be honest with you about that. He wanted us to meet because . . ." She gulped as she considered how to word this. "He said you have the makings of a great doctor."

"But?" He'd heard this before.

"But . . . You lack tact; he also said you don't have the best bedside manner," she began slowly. "And, since I"m a psychologist, he thought I might be able to help you with that. Would you be at all amenable to that?" She held her breath, fearing he would be upset and never want to see her again. If he had the intelligence her father had said he did, she didn't want to miss the opportunity to have many conversations with him.

House's brow furrowed. "So he asked his own daughter to try to . . . to fix me?"

"I never said you needed fixing, Gregory. But I do think you may have some issues that-"

"That what?" A few people near them turned their way to see what had him raising his voice, but House could not have cared less who heard. He was tired of shrinks being sent by people that had no idea what went on in his head. "That you could delve into my childhood and - and dig around in my psyche to find the scared, trembling little boy who just wants a hug? Is THAT WHAT YOU THOUGHT?" His voice had quickly risen and she was visibly shaken by his outburst. "Damn," he muttered. "I - I'm sorry. Come on, Eileen, let's go someplace else and talk about this."

She scoffed lightly at the mention of a song she could barely stand. "I hate that song," she whispered.

"Hmm?" he asked as he led to a hallway.

"Come On, Eileen. I mean, my name starts with an A, but it's pronounced the same way. You wouldn't believe how much I got teased when that song came out." She had quickly regained control of her emotions.

"Ah, so it's Aileen Becker, not Eileen Becker. Sounds the same."

She nodded with pursed lips. "So . . . What would you like to talk about, Gregory?"

"First, why do you keep calling me Gregory? No one calls me that. Well, my parents call me Greg, but everyone else just calls me House."

"Oh? I'm . . . I'm sorry, I - I didn't realise you didn't like being called by your first name. House," she added as an afterthought.

"Hmph. Does everyone call you Aileen?"

"Pretty much. Why?" she asked, genuinely curious as to why he would ask such a thing.

"Just curious. Do you . . . have . . . a middle name?" Maybe it was something embarrassing that she wouldn't want to be called.

"Layla, like the song."

House raised an eyebrow. He was shocked when she mirrored his expression. "Like the song, huh?"

"Yeah. Dad was playing that very album when my mother told him she was pregnant, and when that song - Layla - came on, it was the first time she felt me kick. So they named me Layla after the song."

"Layla," he murmured.

Something in the way he spoke her name made her knees weak. House was quick to catch her. "You all right?"

She gave him a shaky grin. "Yeah . . . just got a little dizzy's all," she fibbed. "I'm fine."

Becker chose that moment to go searching for them. Seeing House's arms around Aileen in what appeared to be an embrace had him seething. "Get. Your. Hands. Off. My. Daughter." Becker's voice was eerily level and calm. "Now."

"Dad, I got dizzy and he caught me. Don't wig out, huh?" Aileen remarked. "I think I'm OK now, House."

He leaned in close as he made sure she could stand on her own two feet. "Call me Gregory," he murmured, soft and low, into her ear.

Song credits:
When I Saw Her Standing There: written by John Lennon/Paul McCartney; recorded by The Beatles.
Take My Breath Away: written by Giorgio Moroder, Tom Whitlock; recorded by Berlin.
Crimson and Clover: written by Tommy James, Peter Lucia, Jr.; recorded by Tommy James and the Shondells.