Chapter 3

Despite three months in prison, House felt almost in charge of his life as he climbed into Wilson's Outback. They had embraced quickly but fervently when he walked through the gate. The two had become more demonstrative since House tended Wilson during his chemotherapy. Odd extended family, House reflected. Only Cuddy meeting him there would have given him more joy. She was stuck in her suite at Princeton General with her feet up, trying to delay giving birth to their son.

"Are you ready?" Wilson asked him, as he pulled into traffic.

"As long as you don't forget the wine glass or the rings."

"All set. We have the flower basket for Rachel. Those giant chrysanthemums Cuddy ordered are as big as she is, so Cuddy is having her sprinkle petals. Arlene is running around driving everyone crazy. Your mother, at least, has been wonderful and Rachel adores her. I think your stepfather, or whatever, is disappointed that he won't be performing the ceremony."

"Cuddy really wants a rabbi. At least Step-Daddy will be up at the front of the room looking semi-official." House barked a laugh. "I think he wanted to give me away." He turned his cane around in his hands. "How is she?" House asked. He didn't have to say who he meant.

"Cuddy has created an office and a conference room in her hospital room. She has her computer, her files, her phone, probably a hot line to the White House. There have been a couple near misses on labor this week but Jenna Hoffman managed to stop it. But if your wedding takes place tomorrow, it can't take place too soon. That baby wants out. And despite looking like she's in charge of everything, Lisa is climbing the walls. I half expect to walk in there and see her levitating above the bed."

House shook his head. "Two months early, but at least we're ready for him."

"Do you have a name picked out?"

"Robert Booker Cuddy-House."

"Robert?"

"Cuddy's father. She really misses him, and she planned to name a child after him." House worried the head of his cane. "Wilson, Cuddy tells me that Jews don't really have godparents, and I don't believe in that, anyway…"

"What, House?"

"Would you be his godfather?" House asked.

Wilson took his hand from the wheel and wrapped his hand around House's forearm. "I'm honored, truly honored. Thank you for asking. I'll always be there for him."

House nodded his head once, and Wilson, seeing that characteristic gesture, smiled. "House, isn't James Booker one of your favorite musicians?"

House smirked. "Arlene says Jews don't name children after the living because, and I quote, 'The Angel of Death,' blessed be he, might mistake the child for the older relative and take the child, prematurely."

Wilson grinned, then realized what House was saying. "You're naming him after me."

"Don't tell Arlene."

"My lips are sealed." The car sped on through the cold New Jersey morning. "House?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

-tbc-