House was in his office reading a medical journal. Andie and her mother were on the balcony enjoying another sunny winter's day. It seemed that the gods that control weather had decided to co-operate with House on his balcony-project, as the forecast was for more sunny days to come, too. House looked up from his journal as he heard the balcony door open. Andie's mother came inside.
"I'm sorry to disturb you," she said. "But Andie said she wanted to be alone for a moment."
"And there is no other way out unless you jump the dividing wall and use Dr. Wilson's office," House acknowledged. "Believe or not, I did take into consideration the fact that when Andie is on the balcony I will have people coming and going through my office. No need to apologise." He set aside the journal. "Take a seat, you look like you could drop where you are," House nodded towards his recliner.
"Thank you," she sat down gingerly. "I feel exhausted, but Andie needs me."
"If you mean to go on like this, you need something stronger than coffee to help you," House stood up, got something from his drawer, poured some water into a cup and brought them to Andie's mother. "Here, take this," he gave her a little white pill and the cup. She looked at him a bit hesitantly but at his nod she took the pill and swallowed it. Once House was sure the pill had gone down he took the blanket that was thrown over the back of the chair. "Lean back and put your feet up, the pill will take effect soon."
"If it was supposed to perk me right up," she said, doing as instructed and yawning while doing it, "then I'm afraid I'm having an opposite reaction than what was intended."
"No, you are having exactly the reaction intended," House said spreading the blanket over her, "since that pill was a mild sedative. It should put you to sleep for couple of hours. The something stronger than coffee you need is sleep! Don't worry about Andie, Dr. Wilson is in his office, Dr. Cameron will be back soon, and I'm here. We have her covered for now. She will need you later on, and much more than she needs you right now, so we really cannot let you collapse on her!" Andie's mother gave him an indignant look but could not fight the effects of the drug and her own exhaustion any longer so she fell asleep.
House closed the shades to his office on the corridor side, but left the ones to the conference room open so that Cameron could see who was in the office once she got back from the clinic. Then he went out on the balcony. Andie looked forlorn and lonely now that she didn't have to try and be brave for her mother. House limped over to her.
"Move over kiddo," he said jovially. "Make some room for the crippled old man." He helped Andie to move in her blanket-cocoon so that he could make a similar cocoon for himself on the recliner. He squirmed a little and then drew Andie to lean against him while he held her in place with one arm. "Comfy?"
"Fine," Andie said. "But I thought I told my mother I wanted to be alone." It was not an accusation just a statement.
"You did. And she believed you," House confirmed. "However, I'm not your mother and if you want to con me, you have to do better than that."
"Why would I want to con my Mother?" Andie tried to be indignant.
"See, that is exactly the look your mother gave me just now when she realised I had slipped her a Mickey!" House marvelled.
"What is that?" Andie sounded a little worried.
"I conned her into taking a mild sedative. She should get couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep out of it," House explained. "Isn't that why you told her you wanted to be alone? That she would get some rest?"
"Yeah," Andie admitted in a small voice.
"Look, I know you worry about your mother and you try to take care of her even now, but don't you think you could recruit other people to that job now? You barely have the energy to think of yourself, you cannot, in all honesty, take care of her as well. I know, no matter how many people you ask to look after her, you will still worry. You love her. But you won't love her any less if you ask others to look after her."
"I suppose," Andie admitted. "It's just ... it has been just us for so long!"
"I understand," House sighed. "Its difficult for you both, but you have been brave for so long, you deserve to let go of that, too. And really, I don't think you need to worry too much about your mother. Your bravery has to have come from somewhere, and it definitely did not come from your father."
"I hate him," Andie whispered. She waited a moment for a reaction from House, but when he said nothing she went on: "Usually people try to tell me that I don't mean it when I say that."
"I hate people telling me what I feel," House said. "I see no reason to think you don't know what words to use to describe your feelings towards your father. Sure, I believe that hate is not all there is to it. He's your father. So the feelings must be many and very mixed, but if you choose the word hate to describe them, I'm sure you have excellent reason for it."
"I don't miss him, not for myself," Andie said. "But Mummy should have someone there to help her, someone to support her; someone to just be there for her."
"Yes, that would be nice," House agreed. "But he couldn't do it, and that's it. We can wish that it hadn't been so, that he had been stronger or more mature or whatever, but he wasn't. I don't say you are wrong in hating him, I just think you really shouldn't waste energy on him."
"He married someone else, you know," Andie whispered. "Last I heard they had a child. A healthy child."
"Well, for the kid's sake let's hope things stay that way," House huffed.
"You think that could change?" Andie asked.
"You were healthy first, too," House pointed out. "In life things change, sometimes the change is bad, and if he didn't stay the first time, it's unlikely that he will stay the second time, either."
"You would have stayed," Andie mused.
"I cannot be sure of that," House disagreed. "I'm not good with long term commitments at all. I hope that had you been my kid I would have stayed around to look after you, even if things hadn't worked out with your mother, but I don't know. I really don't know."
"You would have." Andie just stated with certainty.
"Blessed are the innocent," House sighed but decided against arguing.
"When he was still my daddy," Andie said after a moment, "he used to cuddle with me, a bit like this, and tell me stories."
"Sorry kiddo," House said, "I'm not Chase, you cannot talk me into things the way you did him. Besides, I don't know any stories."
"None at all?" Andie wondered.
"None with a PG rating, I'm afraid not," House had to confirm.
"Didn't your mother tell you stories when you were little," Andie was intrigued.
"Yes, she did," House said. "Quite a lot in fact, but it was a very long time ago and I only remember bits and pieces. Though," suddenly he frowned in concentration, "there is one stupid Christmas poem I think I may remember. It wasn't one of my Mother's stories; I had to learn it by heart one year at school. I think I was thirteen or something. For some reason the teacher decided that I had to learn it and recite it in public. I think I made her regret her decision, but I'm fairly sure I learned the poem. Though I still cannot think why I was the one who had to do it."
"What poem was it," Andie was fascinated.
"It starts something like: 'Twas the Night before Christmas..."
"Oh, I like that one," Andie was delighted.
"You would!" House sighed with resignation. "Fine, I'll try: 'Twas the night before Christmas/ when all through the house - oh that was why I had to learn it, it has my name on it! - Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. / The stockings were hung by the chimney with care/ In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there. / The children were nestled all snug in their beds/ While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads. / And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap/ Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap. ...
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Nurse Brenda had not had time to go and see Andie the day before, so she decided to go and greet her on her break now. She admitted to herself that she was intrigued at what House had done for the girl. The rumour mill was, naturally, working overtime with this particular item, but nearly all who gossiped about it were sure that Dr. Wilson had been behind the whole thing and that House had agreed only after Dr. Cuddy had forced him to it. Brenda had been tempted to correct that misconception a couple of times, but had decided against it. She didn't think anyone would believe her, and she wasn't even sure Dr. House cared one way or the other what the hospital gossips said about him. She wasn't sure he cared about anything ANYBODY was saying about him – good, bad or indifferent. However, that did not satisfy her curiosity about Andie's balcony, so here she was, on her way to Dr. House's office.
As she walked in the office, she saw Andie's mother asleep on the chair, but no sign of House. She assumed that Dr. Cameron had persuaded Andie's mother to take a nap and was herself with Andie on the balcony, so she tiptoed past the chair and went to the door on the other side of the office. As she opened the door, she heard Dr. House's voice and was mesmerised by if for a moment: she hadn't realised how beautiful his voice could be. It took her a moment to realise that it really was House on the balcony with Andie and then she heard the words:
...He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work/ And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk. / And laying his finger aside of his nose/ And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose/ He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle/ And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. / But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight/ "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
Brenda considered a retreat for a moment, but Andie saw her before she could back into the office.
"Nurse Brenda!" Andie exclaimed, "did you hear the story Dr. House told me?"
"Just the end of it," Brenda said. "But I know the story."
"Well, don't just stand there, catching your death of cold, or Cuddy will find some way to blame me for it," House admonished her, "grab a blanket and sit down. There's some hot chocolate in the thermos as well, I think, at least Cameron tries to keep it filled."
"Thank you, I think I will do just that," Brenda smiled at the less than gracious invitation. She was sure House didn't appreciate having been caught reciting Christmas poems to a ten year old.
"Dr. Cameron told me you found the pink blanket for me," Andie said once Brenda had sat down. "Thank you, I love it. Pink is my favourite colour."
"So I was told! And I was happy to help." Brenda responded.
"Do you want some chocolate," House asked Andie feeling her give a very slight shiver, possibly not from the cold in the air, but from a cold inside.
"I need to get my arms free," Andie told him starting to squirm a little.
"Not unless you really want to," House said. "I can hold the cup since we have to share anyway."
"Ok, then. Yes please," Andie agreed. Brenda poured them a cup while serving herself as well and they sat in companionable atmosphere.
"I saw Andie's mother was sleeping in the office," Brenda said to House. "How did you persuade her to take a nap?"
"He slipped her a Mickey," Andie told with a mischievous glint in her eye.
"You were not supposed to repeat that, brat," House told her with mock anger.
"A Mickey?" Brenda repeated.
"I gave her a mild sedative," House confessed, "only I think I forgot to tell her I was doing that."
"She will not be very happy with you when she wakes up," Brenda predicted.
"Possible," House agreed, "but she needed it, and Andie wanted it, so I'll live with it."
They went talking about nothing much and sipping their chocolate for about another ten minutes. Then House felt Andie relax against him and looking down at her he saw she had fallen asleep.
"Out, like a light," he said.
"Like her mother," Brenda agreed.
"Hmmm. I think there is a gurney in the corridor," House then said. "Could you wheel it into my office and place it next to Andie's mother? Then if Chase is in the other room tell him to get his butt in here and do his Romeo detail."
"Romeo detail?" Brenda wondered.
"Chase has been assigned the duty of carrying Andie to and from the balcony," House explained.
"Ok. I'll get to it, then," Brenda agreed and set down her cup, shed her blanket and went to do as asked.
As she reached the balcony door she looked back at the man she found rather incomprehensible. The most irascible man she had ever met was cradling a little, terminally ill girl tenderly in his arms and doing his best to make her last moments on this earth bearable. Go figure. As she turned to go, she noticed that House was rubbing his bad leg. It seemed to be acting up again.