House was up early – well he hadn't really slept more than an hour or two at all. That was nothing new, as his leg had kept him awake many a night. He was dressed and sat in a chair next to his bed rubbing his leg and watching the red-haired woman sleep. She had needed human contact last night, almost desperately. He had been only too glad to provide it, as he himself hadn't been too keen on being alone with his thoughts. Afterwards she had buried her face in the pillows and cried herself to sleep. He had held her lightly, silently, unmoving, just keeping the presence of another human being alive between them.

He had slept too, for a while, after that, but then his leg had woken him. Not as viciously as it sometimes did, but he knew he was not going to get more rest that night. He had alternately paced and sat rubbing his leg – as he was now. He would have to start pacing again soon. He didn't want to take a Vicodin yet, because he wanted it to kick in fresh when it came time to get to work. Once there he would need to get the promised injection from Cuddy, otherwise he wasn't sure he would be up to making the necessary decisions about Mr. Park. He closed his eyes and gripped his leg harder.

"Does it always hurt like that in the morning," a quiet voice intruded into his world. He opened his eyes and saw that she was awake and looking at him.

"It always hurts. Sometimes more, sometimes less. It has been worse." House was not sure why he was answering her, and civilly too. Usually he just snarled something to make people back off. Maybe it was the pain in her eyes – she was a fellow sufferer, even if her pain wasn't physical. She looked down, at herself, at the bed, at her clothes that House had piled on the foot of the bed.

"I cannot even begin to imagine what you must be thinking of me," she said biting her lip.

"Must I?" House stood up and started pacing. "Sorry but my leg is cramping, need to move it."

"What do you mean must you?" she was puzzled.

"I mean must I think something of you? Based just on last night," House shrugged as best he could while limping back and forth in the room. "If I start thinking something about you, then obviously I have to start thinking about me, too. And frankly, what kind of a man finds a grief-stricken mother at his doorstep and hustles her straight into bed with him?"

"It wasn't like that," she said. "You knew why I came here."

"Yes." House didn't try to wrap it up pretty. "But why would that make me think ill of you? We all do what we must to get trough the darkness of the night. And last night was the darkest you've ever had. I'm in no position to judge. We know what happened. You did not take advantage of me – I needed distraction as much as you did last night, even if not exactly for the same reason. I didn't take advantage or you, because for whatever reason, you needed this to help you through the night. Sure it's just a band-aid. Nothing has changed, nothing is solved, but the night is over. We survived it."

"And that's it? A simple need taken care of?" she didn't sound convinced.

"I don't think I would call it a simple need," House denied. "There are too many mixed emotions involved to make it simple. However, the deed, the night itself is simple enough. What happened is nobody's business but ours; we know what happened, and we have something of an idea why."

"You may have, I don't" she told him.

"Look, there are five stages to death – or actually to dealing with a traumatic event, like being told that you are about to die: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance," House tried to make sense of this all to her, "You have been trough those a few times already; first when Andie's cancer was found, then when you heard it was terminal and again, when she refused any more treatments. You have really been through the mill. Some believe that those are also the stages of grieving, but they are not. Grief starts with acceptance, though even there people are different. However, there is one thing that often happens with grief, too. That is denial. That is what this was all about for you. You could not deny that Andie is dead, so you tried to deny Death itself. It happens. At least you didn't go to a nearest bar, get yourself drunk and sleep with the first stranger you could find. Sure I'm not much better, but at least you know something about me."

"You're being very kind about this," she said.

"Now that right there proves I'm a stranger to you," House pointed out. "People who know me tend to accuse me of lots of things; kind doesn't even make the top hundred."

"So what do we do now? Where do we go from here," she wondered.

"We don't go anywhere from here. This was an anomaly, if you like. Once we part, this never happened. As for what we do now, you take a shower, get dressed and I get you back to the hospital. I assume that is where your purse is as you didn't have it with you?" House questioned.

"Yes, I forgot my purse – with my keys and all my money – to the hospital. I'm not sure it wasn't intentional, because then I had to come and ask for your help," she smiled ruefully.

"Human mind is a tricky thing, the deceptions it is capable of are astounding. Like you convincing yourself that you need to walk eight miles to ask for my help when the hospital is open all night," House agreed. He pushed a cardboard box at her: "That box has things my girlfriend left behind seven years ago. If you find anything you can use in there, help yourself. I can also give you one of my shirts; if you iron it nobody will recognise it as mine."

"Thank you," she said. "You are very gracious about this all."

"There you go again proving you don't know the first thing about me," House shook his head. "You know it is possible you would have done much better with that stranger, after all. I'm going into the living room to pace and I'll put the coffee on in half an hour. No breakfast, I'm afraid. I'm not very domesticated."

--------

About an hour later, nearing nine o'clock, she had ironed one of his shirts and was wearing it – with some of the things she had found in the box and some of her own clothes - while they drank coffee in the kitchen.

"I never would have thought I'd do something like this," she mused.

"In a sense you have been alone for a very long time, you just needed a human contact," House said. "And for what it is worth, I don't usually accept invitations like yours – regardless of the reputation I may have in the hospital."

"I don't think you have the faintest idea of the kind of reputation you have in the hospital," she said with a slight smile.

"I don't really care," House stated. "As long as they leave me alone for most of the time, I don't care what they say behind my back."

"Good for you, because the stories are many and varied," she revealed.

"Huh," House grunted dismissively. "Who cares." He took a sip from his mug to chase down the Vicodin he had just taken. "How are you holding up? Really?"

"I don't know. I feel lost. Like I don't know what I'm supposed to do. How I'm supposed to go on. Everything is different, darker, murkier and more unclear. Grey. Foggy." She looked like a lost child.

"You will figure it out. In time," House stated. "Andie's bravery obviously didn't come from her father, so it had to come from you. You will make Andie proud, never fear. And for what it's worth I think Andie would have approved of last night."

"She was too young to understand something like that, let alone approve of it!" she exclaimed.

"Maybe, but she was the one who stole a kiss from Dr. Chase. She was all about living regardless of the circumstances. Don't forget that, ever." House insisted.

They had just finished their coffee and started to think of leaving for the hospital when there was an insistent knock on the door.

"You are expecting company?" she asked.

"No; absolutely not," House replied. "But it's probably James. You better go into the bedroom. And lock the door, we don't always respect each other's privacy, Wilson and I. If I cannot get rid of him any other way than leaving with him, there is some money in the drawer of the bed stand. Take a cab to the hospital. You can send the money to me later. If he realises I have company, he may get a little annoyed and so whatever you hear don't take it personally. It will all be aimed at me."

House waited a moment to make sure that she had locked the bedroom door; he took a look around to see if there was anything that betrayed her presence – apart from the coffee mugs, but it was too late to do anything about them, and then he went to open the door.

It was Wilson, with Blythe and John. House stared at them speechless.

"Are you ready, Greg," Blythe asked.

"Ready for what," House asked puzzled.

"Breakfast," Blythe looked at him questioningly turning then to her husband. "John, you did call Greg to tell him we were coming, didn't you?"

"Now why would I need to call our son that his mother wants to take him out to breakfast?" John asked. "That is just silly."

"Considering that our son is a grown man with a life of his own, I don't see anything silly about it," Blythe sighed. "I'm sorry Greg; I didn't mean to surprise you. We just wanted to take you and James to breakfast, you know... because ..."

"I know," House echoed her sigh. "I understand."

"I'm glad we got that sorted out," Wilson said. "Now can we come in or are you going to leave us standing here while you get your coat and whatever else you need?"

"Sorry," House grimaced, he really had no choice. "I was just surprised. Come in." He stepped aside letting his quest enter. He then turned to Wilson: "How are you?"

"Been better," Wilson sighed. "Andie's mother left the hospital last night, and nobody has seen her. She left her purse behind, with her keys. I'm a little worried."

"I'm sure she is with a friend or something, after all it's not like she couldn't have come back for them any time," House tried to reassure his friend.

"Yes, I suppose," Wilson agreed half-heartedly. "Surely she is ok."

"But are you?" House asked again.

"I'll be fine," Wilson smiled slightly. "Andie is not the first patient I have lost. I have to get over it."

"You know you are not alone," House told him.

"I know. You helped a lot yesterday, and now your mother..." Wilson shrugged. "I will be ok. I just hope nothing has happened to Andie's mother."

"I'm sure she is ok," House repeated. He then turned to his mother, who had been silently watching the exchange between the two friends. "So what is this plan about breakfast?"

"Well, I know you never have anything to eat," Blythe explained. "And I'm afraid I don't trust James to take care of himself right now, so I thought I see to it that you two at least have a proper breakfast. Therefore I intend to take you to that little place near the hospital and make sure you eat at least something before we all go in."

"You have a meeting with the therapist?" House asked.

"Yes, eleven o'clock. And I know you don't mind being late to work, so don't try to get out of this," she admonished.

"Why would he try to get out of a free meal," John laughed.

"Good point, for once," House agreed. "Why don't you go on ahead and I'll meet you there in half an hour? I still have a couple of things I need to do before I leave for work. And since I'm taking my bike anyway, I don't need a lift from anyone."

Blythe gave him a searching look obviously reading something from his face. "That might be a good idea. I don't think there is much point in us waiting for you here. We can order for you and you can get to work that much sooner."

"Nonsense, we can wait here just as well," John said, showing that he was not exactly on the same wavelength as his wife, let alone his son.

Wilson had wandered into the kitchen in search of a drink of water and when he came back he looked at House with anger in his eyes. He stood by the bedroom door and House thought it best to go and check what the matter was.

"You are not alone," Wilson whispered furiously. "Or at least you weren't. Is she still here?"

"Wilson, that has nothing to do with you," House said mildly. "Just go with my parents and I'll follow you as soon as I can."

"I cannot believe you! Andie died yesterday and you call a hooker to entertain you the same night! You disgust me," Wilson would have yelled at House had they been alone. "Where is she? In the bedroom? Were you planning for something extra when we interrupted? Is that why you need the extra half an hour?"

"Wilson, you can say anything you want to me when we are alone," House whispered urgently. "Right now I need you and my parents – especially my Mother – out of here before anything embarrassing takes place."

"I don't give a damn about your embarrassment!" Wilson hissed.

"I'm not worried about my own embarrassment," House hissed back.

"Really," Wilson's eyes were practically shooting flames. "Why don't you then just open this door and introduce us to your friend?"

"James, I know you are angry," House tried to reason with him. "But I'm sure you do not want to put my Mother through any kind of a scene, do you?"

Before Wilson could answer Blythe spoke from the other side of the room where she had been having a word with her husband.

"Come on, James," she said. "John agrees that we will get the breakfast much faster if we go now and order for Greg, too, while we wait for him. I'm sure he won't be long."

"Why don't you two go and I'll wait here for Greg," Wilson suggested. "That way I can hurry him along."

"And you would ride on his bike with him?" Blythe laughed. "Come along James, I'm sure Greg would not dream of dawdling when he knows his mother is waiting – and with a free meal, too."

"I promise to get there as soon as humanly possible," House agreed as he escorted them out of his door. Though both John and Wilson were somewhat reluctant – for different reasons – Blythe and House got them outside and House was able to shut his door.

"That was too damn close for comfort!" House sighed to himself as he leaned his head briefly against the door before bolting it again – just in case.