The tiny pang of the rubber ball bouncing off the floor shook House from his reverie. He sighed as he bent to pick it up before it rolled under his desk before it took its new residence as most things did when they rolled under his desk. His long fingers gripped the ball tightly as he tried to digest the new information that had been presented to him last night by his ex-girlfriend Stacy. After their break up, after all those years he had a daughter he didn't know about. Some one who shared his DNA. Gregory House had done it; he procreated. There were some bets he had to collect on from all those naysayers who adamantly believed that he could never find a woman to carry his child. Even when he was with Stacy, he figured she would be the one and that they would create the perfect child, with his dry sense of humor, her charm and silky dark hair, and his stunning blue eyes. And they had done it, no doubt she looked like Stacy, but there was a glimmer of House in her. Stacy had confronted him asked him if he had told her during lunch. He told her he hadn't. No point in introducing himself to a girl he had nothing to do with and wouldn't in the future. The girl had Stacy and Mark, a surrogate father acting in his place. Besides he wasn't fit to be anyone's father, he cared only about himself. Only recently had he been able to finally let down his barrier and let Cameron in. After many protests of their age difference, and his incapability to think of others and be happy he gave in. She was bright and bubbly. They balanced each other out. When they went to restaurants he behaved rudely, she would apologize and tip profusely. She picked up his dry cleaning (when he did it, once in a blue moon) and she made sure he brought his bike to the shop to have it listened to. Things were going surprisingly well, until last night. When Stacy showed up at their front door, it startled Cameron. She went to bed early that night, completely forgetting the garlicky sauce, leaving it to develop a dark crust on the stove. The pasta went hard and stiff left to sit in the colander in the sink. When he finally slipped into bed that night Cameron was still awake. She turned her body towards him and placed a small hand on his stiff shoulder. She asked him what Stacy wanted and he muttered nothing and turned away from her completely. That morning when he woke up she was gone along with the mess she had left.

"Hey," Georgia said softly as he fingers drummed against the doors frame. House looked up as she stood in the doorway. Her dark hair was wet and twisted over her shoulder. Little droplets of water fell down her t-shirt leaving a wet trail.

"Hey." He said. Georgia hesitantly entered his office; she looked around at the clutter surrounding the space. Her jean sat low on her hips showing off a smooth expanse of skin that she could afford to cover up he thought. House scoffed to himself, he wasn't her father so he wasn't gonna bother to point it out. At least they weren't those tight painted on ones that the say girls her age wore. They were lose and kind of shapeless like boy jeans, more for fashion then grabbing attention from boys.

"Your wet." He said while he scrutinized her with his eyes.

"Yeah I went swimming. Mark took me." She nodded.

"Didn't know physio was going that well. What's next, a hike up Mt. Kilimanjaro?"

"My mom dropped us off at the college pool but it was a 'Georgia and Mark' activity."

House frowned slightly unsure of what emotion that was currently running through him. "You do that a lot with him?"

She nodded. "He's not my father but he sort of feels this obligation towards me. Since he and my mom don't have any children he sees me like his. But…" she paused and looked at her hands. "It's kind of like when you borrow a toy from your best friend when you're a kid. You keep it for like a week and you love it but you don't really appreciate it the way you should and try not to get to use to it. Because it's not yours and you don't want to miss it too much when it's gone. That's what its like with Mark." House looked down at his desk and sighed while reaching for his cane. He stood on his feet and looked over at her.

"That's the pits." He said and limped past her into the hall.

When he came home that night he found Cameron sitting on the couch in a big sweatshirt. Her cheeks were flush from the wine she had been drinking, and her legs were bare, resting temptingly on the coffee table. She turned as he came through the door and blinked rapidly offering him a tentative hello.

"Hi." He nodded hello as he walked over to the closet to throw his coat in. "There's some pizza in the kitchen. I didn't feel like cooking." Again he nodded and took a seat next to her on the couch. He draped his arm behind her head as he snagged a piece of pizza crust with his free hand. Cameron swallowed hard and reached for her glass, she took a swig and let it rest in her mouth for a bit, as he munched noisily on her pizza crust. They hadn't talked to each other all day, other than professionally. Usually she joined him and Wilson for lunch; instead he dined alone while Wilson took a consult. She then beat him home and had dinner without him. Things felt strained and hopeless as they sat on the couch ignoring the growing problem before them. They had fights before, but never over something like this. Stacy was Stacy. The love of his life, the one woman who had managed to tame him for five years and dump after his infarction. Now she was back and showing up at their door requesting private chats with him. Cameron didn't expect him to tell her what they talked about, he never shared details of his conversation with her about anyone unless they were amusing or of consequence. But this bothered her. This was big, bigger than they had ever tackled.

"Greg," she began.

"Don't worry about it." He cut her off, in an uncharacteristically soft voice.

"I don't know what you want me to do." He said as he stalked into Stacy's office. "She comes into my office unannounced and shares the menial moments of her life. Then she never leaves, she just sits there waiting for me to initiate some kind of conversation. And those eyes, their so…" he trailed off sighing heavily. Stacy smiled at him folding her hands on her lap. They had been there for a week and things between him and Cameron weren't improving. It was her, Georgia, it had to be her. He couldn't think without her invading all of his thoughts. Her voice rang clear in his ears hours after they finished talking. His need to be around her and steer clear from her was conflicting. The burden of keeping this secret from Georgia and Cameron was beginning to weigh on his conscience, the one that he thought he had managed to suppress.

"Greg, I'm not asking you for anything." She said simply. "I want to thank you actually for not telling her the truth. She knows about you, not you, but her father. I think she's starting to suspect something." House sighed and reached into his pocket for his pills. He unscrewed the cap and swallowed one dry.

"Still haven't kicked that habit."

"I'm in pain." He said rolling his eyes.

"I need to know what you're going to do. If I tell her, where do we go from there?" Stacy asked as she stood from her desk. "You're dating Cameron, what's this going to do to her?"

"I'll worry about Cameron, thank you very much." Stacy took her seat again and picked up a pen, focusing on the work before her.

"When you figure out what you want to do, you'll know where I'll be."