Here's a nice, long chapter for y'all. Thanks for all the posts. I appreciate constructive criticism, but please be a little nicer. :o) I do like knowing if I'm off-base. And don't worry, you'll find out what was in the letter. I think he'll only be in Michigan another 2 chapters, but we'll know how Cameron is doing, so don't worry. :o) Steph

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

House greeted his mother and Aunt Sharon with an excellent performance of delight at seeing them, his mom more so than his aunt, but still. Since they had been at the hospital all day, his mom and aunt went to bed so House settled into the spare bedroom, the one he used whenever he visited, which had been only three times. Debra would be sleeping on the couch, but she had excused herself to run out and get cigarettes at the convenience store down the street.

After half an hour when he still couldn't sleep he went into the living room to watch t.v.. An hour later, Debra walked in with a bag and two slurpees, handing the red one to House. He looked up at her and hesitated taking it at first.

"You remembered," he said with a smile.

She sat down next to him and opened the popcorn, took a big handful and shoved it into her mouth. House simply watched her, staying silent.

"Yep – cherry slurpees, strawberry tootsie pops, cherry popsicles. Figured you still liked the red stuff," she said with her mouthful.

"And you…still have awful table manners," he said as he sucked deeply on the spoon straw.

"Some bad habits never die," she said with a laugh, then a giggle, although to House it was not funny at all, but he continued to stare at her, sizing her up.

"Hey, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, keep it there! I love the chocolate river and lemon tea cups... hmmm, wonder if Aunt Blythe has anything chocolate in the kitchen. I knew I should have gotten a Snickers," Debra said as she stood up and started to walk to the kitchen.

"How long have you been doing it?" he finally asked.

She stopped in her tracks, composed herself and turned around, asking sweetly and innocently, "Doing what?"

"Oh, please. I could always tell when you lied to your mom or snooped in my room and found the Playboys. You know what I mean: getting high."

"What? I'm not high," she giggled, tapping her right foot, making a thumping noise on the hardwood floor.

House gave her a half smile. "Thumper, you've had a toke or few."

"Ah, how sweet. You remembered my nickname. I feel so loved," she said sarcastically. "Look, Mr. pill popper, don't start with me," she said as she sat back down, sipping her slurpee.

"I have a real reason to take pills: I'm in pain. What about you? You got cancer? The chemotherapy side effects get a little easier with a joint."

"No, I don't have cancer. Look, don't worry about it. It's not a big deal," she said as she reached for the remote control.

"No…not until you answer my question."

"Oh, are you playing big, mean brother now?"

"No, but I'm curious as to why such a sweet, adorable you changed into me in two hours' time."

"You're nuts. Think maybe you should stop pop…"

"Oh, shut up!" House said as he sat up and stared her down even harder. "Your eyes are blood shot, dilated and you have the munchies, all the classic signs of a stoner."

"My eyes are not bloodshot. I used Visine...Greg, just drop it. You don't know what's going on."

"Maybe not, but I figured between the two of us you'd be less likely to be a druggie."

"It's only been a couple of months. Things are kinda tough right now. Shhhhhh, Veronica is about to sing."

House aimed the remote at the t.v. and switched it off.

"Hey! That's my favorite part!" she objected.

"Debra, look. You had everything any kid would love to have – loving parents, the best clothes, top schools. Why are you messing it up?"

"Oh, that's right. I'm the spoiled brat and you're jealous. You had it rough so you're turning it around on me. Your daddy was mean to you. Poor baby. Deal with your own issues and leave me out of it."

"This isn't about me."

"Oh, isn't it? Your mom had to practically beg you to come. You are completely different than when we were kids. I'm sorry you had a sucky childhood."

"Will you shut up!" House interjected. "Nothing could be so bad it justifies you frying your brain cells."

Debra threw her hands up in the air and stood up. "I'm tired. I'm going out for one more cigarette then I'm going to bed."

House was done talking, but only for the moment. He liked Debra, always had, even though see was a kid when he knew her. He hated seeing her like this, and sure didn't want her wasting his life like he had. Not that he had, but he was miserable. And that was enough. But it bugged him, and he wasn't going to let her get away with it so easily. He never had before, why start now?

House stepped through the sliding glass door and saw her sitting on the rocking bench in the corner of the back yard, in the garden. He walked toward her and sat down next to her, helping her rock the bench with his left foot. They sat in silence for several minutes in silence.

"Gonna share?" House finally asked as he watched her take a drag from a cigarette.

"You don't smoke," she answered.

"I'm a casual smoker."

She handed him the pack and lighter and he took one, lit it and took a deep drag. "Not as good as a joint but it'll do."

"Remember when you were in Heidelberg.on the base and we drove to the Black Florest that one weekend?" she asked, totally ignoring his joint comment. "We snuck away from your parents and I pretended to be lost. Instead of playing Marco Polo you were Robin of Loxely and I was Guinevere. We spoke with an English accent, well, I did, and rather well I might add, while you did an awful German accent. Man that was fun."

"You were 8 and easily entertained. I was bored."

"No, you weren't, liar," she said with a small laugh. "You got pissed when you couldn't find me after five minutes. Whenever you'd get close I'd get quiet. But you always found me. How?"

"Sweet Honesty. I could always smell it."

This time Debra burst out laughing. "Guess I wasn't as smart of an 8 year old than I thought."

"Yes, you were. You saw everything. The simplest things you did you found awe in it. And your imagination was wild. A dreamer. I saw everything in black and white. I still do. But I envied that a little."

She turned to look at him with admiration. "I never told you how much I appreciated you hanging out with me. You were 16 the last time I came to stay with you guys. You should have been out partying with girlfriends or with friends. But you took time to play Monopoly or Connect Four with me. You were always like a big brother to me."

"You have an older brother."

"No, I have an older sibling. We were never close. He was just there, kinda like your dad to you."

House's eyes got big and his eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Yeah, I'd hear you and your dad fighting. It got especially harder for you at 16. I always wanted to come to you afterwards but you seemed to pull away from me a little. When you were 13 I remember hearing you crying in your room. I was young but I remember it, and my heart broke for you."

House simply nodded his head, reached into his pocket and popped two pills.

"Mom told me about your infarction. I wanted to call but mom said you were having a hard time dealing. Does it hurt that much?"

"Yeah, it does."

"Does it help you to forget?"

"Forget what?" House asked, feigning stupidity.

"Your dad hitting you," Debra asked softly.

He didn't answer her but she continued talking.

"I noticed the bruises, especially the one on your nose. You had a black eye the whole time I was there. That's where the scar on your nose came from. I always wished you'd come to live with us sometimes."

She looked at him the whole time, but he avoided eye contact until she made that comment.

"Is it bad?" he asked.

"Yeah. My ex, he beat me. So I didn't really know how you felt or what you were going through as a kid until then."

"When did it start?"

"Last year, after he moved in with me. The first time, well, I thought it was my fault. "The second time, I knew it was my fault. The third time I…I…" Tears filled her eyes and she couldn't speak. She swallowed hard and tried to get her voice back. "I lost my baby."

"I'm sorry," he said gently and with compassion.

"I never even knew I was pregnant until the day after and I started bleeding heavily. Thank god I never told mom and dad."

"I was jealous of you," he said softly, so much so she had to ask him to repeat it. It was harder for him to say it the second time than it did the first time.

"I knew you were, that's why I wanted you to come to stay with us."

"Debra, it's late. We have a busy day tomorrow," House said as he stood up.

"No, you have a busy day tomorrow. Don't you think it's time you talk to your dad?"

"I do talk to him."

"Oh, please. I'm not an eight year old anymore," she replied as she, too, stood up and they walked toward the house. "I mean talk to him, tell him he hurt you."

"Have you dealt with your ex?" he asked as he slid the door open for her.

"No, but I'm seeing a counselor," she answered as she walked through.

"Then tell you what: I'll deal with my dad when you deal with your ex," he said.

"Yeah, I'll think about it," House answered as he closed the door behind him.

He and Debra were more alike than he thought they were. They were both 'damaged', even though he had dealt with it longer than she had.

And House had no intention of 'patching' things up with his dad. Not now. Not tomorrow. Not ever.