A/N Thank you to everyone who has read and hugs to all the reviewers. Your kind words have been wonderful. I haven't responded to all the wonderful reviews to chapter four. I decided to spend my limited time writing instead. I promise I will get to everyone eventually.
Disclaimer House belongs to someone else.
"My bed here!" At the sound of the doorbell ringing and Rachel's excited shout, House limped from the kitchen. He had taken the day off so that he could be present for the delivery and set up of the toddler's new bed.
Rachel was currently in the foyer hopping up and down like a deranged Energizer bunny. House scowled and carefully navigated around her. As he opened the door, he reflected that allowing the excited little girl to be here and giving Marina the day off were probably very bad ideas.
House looked from Rachel to the man standing on the porch and his eyes widened in surprise. This was possibly the burliest human the diagnostician had ever seen. Several inches taller than House, the delivery man had biceps that strained the fabric of his t-shirt. The diagnostician immediately thought 'steroids' as he took in the thick neck and the thighs that looked like tree trunks.
"Greg House?" a deep voice rumbled from the giant.
"Ah, yeah," House tried to overcome his initial shock. He vaguely registered the small arms that had wrapped around his left leg.
"Delivery." The imposing man thrust a clipboard at him. "Sign here."
House took the clipboard and hung his cane on the doorknob. He quickly scrawled his name at the bottom of the invoice and returned it to the younger man. He took note of the delivery truck backed into the drive. An equally large, younger man was opening the truck's back door.
The unsmiling hulk gave House a copy of the receipt as he gave the disabled doctor and Rachel a once over. "You and the little one might want to move out of the way."
House retrieved his cane from the door and pried Rachel from his leg. "Come on, kid. Why don't you go watch television in your mom's bedroom?"
Rachel hung onto his left hand and shook her head. Given the sheer bulk of the intimidating stranger, the toddler was obviously not about to stray too far from the person she trusted to protect her. House sighed and resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
"Let's go to the living room." House led her to the direction of an overstuffed chair in the corner. As soon as he sat, Rachel climbed into his lap. He sighed again wrapped an arm around her.
A few seconds later the two delivery men carried in the first flat box. They wordlessly laid it on the living room floor and returned to the truck. The process was repeated again and again until finally, eight boxes of various sizes and shapes were stacked around the space. The mattress was leaning against one wall.
The younger of the delivery duo exited the door as the other man turned to House. "You have a nice day."
"Wait!" House unceremoniously dumped Rachel on the chair as he lurched stiffly to his feet. "What do you mean 'Have a nice day?' You're supposed to put this thing together."
The hulk, whose name tag identified him as Frank, put his hands on his hips and scowled. "We just deliver. We don't install."
House looked from the mountain of boxes to the giant, "So, when will the installers get here?"
"Don't know." Frank had begun inching his way to the door. "When did you schedule the set-up?"
"Schedule? I didn't schedule a set-up. I thought that was part of the delivery." House was fairly growling as he limped without his cane after the rapidly escaping delivery man. "You can't just dump all this and then leave. You have to put it together."
Frank, the now obviously pissed body builder, stopped with his hand on the doorknob. "No, we don't. You'll have to call the store and schedule a day they can send the folks to assemble it."
House watched as the door closed with a thud. He turned and scowled as he surveyed the living room. Almost every inch of floor space was covered. Several of the boxes were as tall as he was.
"Shit." He hung his head and tried to think. A sniff drew his attention to the chair where Rachel still sat. She had one finger in her mouth and was looking at him with wide, tear filled eyes.
"Hey, don't cry. We'll figure something out." House's thoughts raced frantically. He had to salvage this situation. He pulled the receipt and his cell phone from his pocket.
Fifteen minutes and four phone calls later, House was almost ready to concede defeat. The store had assured him they would send someone to assemble the bed. The problem was there was would be a two week wait. No amounts of threatening or bribery had changed the answer. House stood slumped with his hand on his right thigh. Through his years as a military brat, he had often heard a well used phrase that started with the word 'cluster.' He figured this situation counted as one.
He rubbed the persistent ache that had begun to throb through his damaged thigh. Realizing it was psychological didn't stop the pain. He was startled to stillness by the feel of a small hand on top of his. House opened his eyes and looked down to find Rachel standing in front of him holding his cane. Her huge brown eyes were still filled with tears and now what looked suspiciously like concern.
House took the offered cane and then patted her awkwardly on the head. "Don't worry. I have an idea."
He dialed the phone as he hobbled to the sofa. "Wilson," he barked as soon as there was an answer. "I need you at Cuddy's place now."
"House, I have appointments. I know it's a foreign concept to you, but some of us do work," was the exasperated reply.
"Cancel them. Your patients aren't going to die any slower if you're there," House replied as he lowered himself onto the sofa.
"House, I really don't have time for your games. I'm sure whatever it is can wait." Wilson sounded on the verge of hanging up the phone. House looked to his left where Rachel was staring up at him with wide, hope-filled eyes.
House softened his voice to the most pathetic, suffering tone he could manage, "Wilson…I need you."
There was silence from the other end of the phone. House knew his best friend well. Wilson was undoubtedly conjuring up pictures of a relapsed House returning to Mayfield. He smiled at Rachel as he waited patiently.
"Fine," Wilson relented. "Let me cancel my appointments. I'll be there in twenty minutes."
"And, Wilson," House increased the whine factor in his voice, "don't tell Cuddy. I wouldn't want her to worry. Rachel and I will be okay until you get here."
He knew that last part would spur Wilson into action faster. House ended the call and smiled at Rachel. "Help's on the way, kid. Now, let's see if we can find instructions for this monstrosity."
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James Wilson rushed up the walk and burst through the front door without knocking. He was well on his way to a full blown panic attack. Thoughts of a strung out House alone with Rachel had propelled him out of the hospital and to Cuddy's house in record breaking time. He came to a dead stop in the living room and stared at the carnage in front of him in wide-eyed shock.
"House, what the Hell?" Wilson put his hands on his hips and scowled at his best friend. "What is all this?"
"It's a bed." House limped over and handed the oncologist a color brochure.
Wilson stared at the picture in his hand. "It's a castle."
"Nice grasp of the obvious." House limped back to the end table and picked up his coffee cup.
"This? This is your emergency?" Wilson impatiently slapped his leg with the brochure. "I thought…"
"I know what you thought, oh ye of little faith." House took a drink of his now cold coffee and grimaced. "We have to put this thing together."
"House, why don't you have it assembled by professionals? I'm sure they have people who do that sort of thing." Wilson looked at the brochure again and his eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. "Cuddy bought a four thousand dollar bed?"
"Nope." House returned the cup to the end table and picked up the instruction booklet he had found. "I ordered it."
Wilson finally found the presence of mind to close his mouth. He watched as House thumbed through the booklet.
"Wait. You ordered it?" Wilson still wasn't sure he had heard correctly.
"Yep." House tried to ignore the look of utter disbelief on Wilson's face.
"Then why didn't you make sure the company would send someone to put it together?" Wilson was still perplexed as to how this situation had developed.
"I thought assembly was part of the delivery." House finally looked at Wilson.
"House, you're an idiot. The first rule of parenting is to make sure stuff comes assembled." Wilson, hands on hips, surveyed the boxes. "Just call the company and have them send someone out."
"Tried that." House leaned on the end of the sofa and rolled his cane between his hands. "The earliest they can get someone here is two weeks."
"Then we move the boxes to the garage and Rachel sleeps in her crib for two more weeks," Wilson suggested.
"Can't." House looked at the floor. "Cuddy gave the crib to one of the nurses. The husband picked it up last night. If we can't put this thing together, Rachel has to sleep with us and Little Greg will be on bread and water for the next two weeks."
"If Cuddy doesn't kill you first, which is a very distinct possibility," Wilson smirked at his obviously uncomfortable friend. "House, you can't possibly think we can do this."
"We have to, Wilson." House looked up and in a very uncharacteristic display of honesty admitted, "I told Rachel she would have her new bed today."
Wilson narrowed his eyes as he considered House's words. He smirked as he had an epiphany of his own. "Admit it, House. You've bonded with her. That's what this is all about. You actually love Rachel."
House looked up and opened his mouth to disagree. He stopped when he saw the little face peeking from around the dining room door. He thought of all the cruel, heartless words that had been hurled at him as a child.
"You're right. I do." House admitted as he looked at Rachel. He looked back to Wilson. "Now are you going to help me or not?"
"Of course," Wilson hoped his grin wasn't too smug. He looked down at the suit and tie he was wearing. "Just let me run home and change clothes."
"No time. We've only got about eight hours before Cuddy gets home." House stood and waved a hand towards the hallway. "Last bedroom on the left. Jeans are hanging in the closet and t-shirts are in the top drawer of the chest."
Wilson headed towards Cuddy's bedroom. He stopped and turned to look back at his friend who was opening the first of the boxes. "Does Cuddy have any power tools?"
"Yeah, in her nightstand," House grinned at Wilson's shocked expression. "Oh, you mean the other kind? She has some stuff in the garage."
"You really are insane, House. I predict our deaths will be extremely gruesome and very painful." Wilson yelled as he went in search of appropriate work clothes.
House was digging in the first box when he heard a little voice ask, "I help?"
"Sure. You can hold the box open for me while I get all this stuff out." House showed Rachel how to hold the flap back out of his way. With his head bent to the contents of the cardboard box, House missed the look of pure adoration on the toddler's face.
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Lisa Cuddy pulled into her drive and shut off the engine. She spared a glance at Wilson's car and wondered why he was at her home. She was sure it had something to do with the family emergency that had taken him away from the hospital. She had just shut her car door when she noticed her head of oncology carrying a stack of flattened boxes from her front door. Cuddy stopped and watched as he deposited the boxes next to her trash bin.
"Nice outfit. Who let you dress yourself?" she called as she circled the front of her car.
"Your idiot boyfriend," Wilson replied. He looked down at himself and grimaced. The faded jeans were several inches too long and the waist was extremely snug. The light blue t-shirt hung off of his shoulders and bagged around his chest. The ensemble was completed by his own, black dress shoes. Wilson knew he looked utterly ridiculous.
"Why are you here?" Cuddy tried not to laugh at her usually impeccably dressed friend's embarrassment.
"Again, your idiot boyfriend," Wilson took her briefcase and followed her up the front walk.
Cuddy stopped at the front door. "Why? What has he done this time?"
"Oh, no. I'm not doing his dirty work for him." Wilson impatiently ushered his boss into her own home. "He gets to explain this one. He's in Rachel's room."
Cuddy dropped her purse on the sofa and strode down the hall. She stopped short at the door and stared. The love seat had been moved to sit in front of the French doors. Rachel was busy climbing the staircase to her new, ostentatious castle. The imposing structure took up the entire wall where her crib had previously sat. House was lying flat on his back, spread eagle in the middle of the floor.
"House? Are you okay?" Cuddy moved to stand and look down at him.
At the sight of her mother, Rachel squealed and hurtled down the slide. As soon as her tiny feet hit the carpeted floor, the little girl ran to her mother.
"Mommy! Look it!" She took her mother's hand and attempted to drag her for a closer look.
"Just a minute, baby." Cuddy nudged House's ribs with the toe of her shoe. "House? Are you alive?"
He opened one blue eye and squinted up at her. "Barely."
Cuddy saw Wilson slink into the room and collapse in an exhausted heap on the love seat. Rachel was tugging on her hand and hoping around like a terrier on crack. Her tool box was resting against the wall. A terrifying suspicion began to niggle its way into her mind.
"House?" Cuddy planted her free hand on her hip. "Who put the bed together?"
"We did," House replied as Wilson just snorted.
"We as in you and Wilson?" Cuddy looked from one to the other.
"I help, Mommy," Rachel almost yelled as she continued her efforts to pull her mother to the bed in question.
"For God's sake, Cuddy. Look at the thing so she'll hush," House ordered as he shut his eye and heaved a weary sigh. Wilson slumped over sideways to lie on the small sofa.
Cuddy really looked at the castle for the first time. Thankfully, it wasn't as large as it had appeared in the picture. The spires did almost reach the ceiling but there was room for Rachel to stand on the top. The bed was made with the new linens she had purchased. Stuffed animals and books were already haphazardly arranged on the turret bookcases. She watched as her tiny daughter climbed the stairs to the top level.
"Are you sure it's sturdy?" Cuddy questioned no one in particular.
"Wilson tried it out first," House mumbled from his prone position on the floor.
Cuddy looked from Rachel to House to Wilson. "Why did you put it together? Why didn't the store send someone?"
"Your idiot boyfriend," was the muffled reply from the sofa.
Cuddy tried to hold back her snort of laughter. "You didn't make sure they were going to assemble it?"
House groaned and flung an arm over his eyes. "I'm never going to live this down am I?"
"No," his girlfriend and his best friend answered in unison.
Cuddy glanced at Rachel as she played on the top of the castle before she moved to stand next to House. "Have you eaten?"
She smiled as House just shook his head. "Can you get up?" she asked.
"I doubt it," he replied. "I think I'll just sleep here."
"Wilson, help me get him up," Cuddy demanded.
The oncologist groaned as he rolled from the small sofa. Together, they managed to haul House from the floor. As soon as he was upright, House swayed and clutched his thigh. The damaged muscles were unaccustomed to such strenuous activity as they had endured for the past eight hours. They immediately began to cramp as soon as he put weight on his foot.
"Mommy?" Rachel called from her perch.
Cuddy was surprised to find her little girl holding House's cane over the banister that fronted the balcony. Wilson leaned forward and took the cane from Rachel. He handed it to House but still kept his grip on his friend's arm.
"Can you make it to the living room?" Wilson questioned.
"Maybe," House replied softly. He was past worrying about his wounded male pride or his offended dignity. His hesitation was brought on by excruciating pain.
Cuddy turned back to her daughter. Rachel frowned as she watched Wilson help House limp through the door. Her favorite purple rabbit was clutched in her arms.
"Mommy, Hows hurt?" Rachel asked.
Cuddy reached up and pushed the toddler's bangs from her eyes. "Yes, baby. House's leg hurts. He did too much today."
She stood back and surveyed the castle bed. It was quite extraordinary. Everything from the hand turned spindles to the recessed lighting was perfect. It had obviously taken hours to assemble.
"I'm going to go order dinner." Cuddy smiled up at her daughter. "Do you want to stay in here and play?"
Cuddy smiled at Rachel's eager nod. "Okay. But, you be careful," she told the hyper little girl.
Cuddy carried the tool box to the living room and sat it out of the way. She saw that House had made it to the sofa. His damaged leg was propped on pillows and an ice pack was lying on his thigh. Wilson was nowhere to be seen. She crossed the room and sat on the edge of the cushion.
She ran her hand through his hair much like she had done with Rachel. "Do you need me to get your ibuprofen?"
"No." House shook his head. "I need to eat something first. Wilson's ordering Chinese."
"House?" She waited until he looked at her with pain-filled, blue eyes. "Thank you. You've made her very happy."
"I noticed." His smile was more of a grimace.
"It could have waited." She laid her hand on his chest. Cuddy hoped he wouldn't be offended. She knew how touchy her stubborn diagnostician was about his physical limitations.
House laced his fingers through hers. "No, it couldn't. I promised Rachel she would have her new bed today. I couldn't disappoint her."
Cuddy leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss to his lips. "You could have called in reinforcements. Your team didn't have a case. They could have helped."
"No," House stated flatly as he shook his head. "It's one thing to ask you or Wilson for help. I don't want them to see me like this."
"Stubborn ass," Cuddy chastised him quietly. "They wouldn't think any less of you."
"Things are finally getting back to normal." House searched her face. "I don't need them watching my every move, waiting for me to crack up again. Foreman and Chase have finally quit searching my office for drugs. I don't want to go back there."
"I understand." Cuddy squeezed his hand and then sat back as Wilson came in and flopped down on the floor.
"Wilson, thank you for helping House today," she told her friend.
He gave her a small smile. "I couldn't refuse," he told her quietly.
"Wilson!" House warned him with a growl.
"What?" Wilson questioned with mock outrage. "I just meant I couldn't refuse to help a friend in need."
Cuddy looked from her exhausted boyfriend to their equally fatigued friend. She knew she was missing something. Their bond, tested by time and tragedy, was stronger than friendship. She was just glad they had one another.
The quiet was broken when Rachel ran into the room. She headed straight to House's side and plopped her purple rabbit on his chest. He took it reflexively and looked at the toddler.
"Thank you, Hows. I love you." Rachel placed a kiss on his whiskered cheek and then ran back to her room and her fairytale castle.
House clutched the ridiculous stuffed animal tighter and closed his eyes. Cuddy noticed Wilson wiped his eyes as he lay back on the floor. Cuddy blinked back her own tears as she softly rubbed House's broad chest. It looked like there were now three people who would keep Gregory House's fragile heart safe.