One hour, forty-seven minutes, and nineteen seconds after he last spoke with Kendra Wright, House stepped inside his apartment and closed the door quietly behind himself.

""Greg, you're home early," Blythe commented in a surprised yet quiet voice as she stepped out of the kitchen, the same bowl and washcloth as that morning in her hand.

"Yeah, Cuddy let me skip out early," he explained, shrugging his jacket off. "How's Baby Bear doing?" He tossed his jacket to the couch. Blythe gave a momentary look of disapproval before her expression turned into that look of instinctive, motherly sympathy.

"Not well, I'm afraid. I gave him the medicine you prescribed, but it doesn't seem to be helping. His headache's worse, he can't stomach anything, he can hardly move for his sore muscles, and his temperature just keeps getting higher no matter what I do," she glanced down at the bowl in her hand absently before continuing. "Whatever he's managed to catch isn't going to go away quietly," she said, sounding regretful and compassionate. House nodded, looking at the floor. What was he supposed to say? Blythe seemed to sense his discomfort and offered him an easy out. "He's been asking for you," she held out the bowl and washcloth. House gave her what could possibly be passed off as a grin, nodded again, took the offered objects, and headed for the bedroom.

Wilson was lying in the middle of the bed now, lying silent and still with the blankets covering his head again. House walked as quietly as possible to the far side of the bed, then hung the cloth over the edge of the bowl before setting it on the nightstand and climbing softly into the bed. Wilson groaned a little and his head moved underneath the mountain of covers that Blythe must have fetched for him.

"Hey, Baby Bear. Poppa's home, and I brought bacon," House spoke softly, remembering the headache.

"Oh, please don't mention food. I might puke my guts out just thinking about it," moaned Wilson's muffled voice. House grimaced sympathetically. Oops.

"Sorry," he apologized, slowly pulling the covers away from the sick man's face. Wilson groaned in protest, but otherwise offered no resistance. House gave a single small laugh. Wilson squinted one eye open. "What's funny?"

"You look pathetic," House grinned. Wilson gave him a bewildered looked.

"Right. I almost forgot how hilarious you find the suffering of others," he responded, closing his eye again and turning his head back to face the ceiling.

"Oh, don't be do dramatic," House said, laying down flat beside him and turning his own head to face Wilson. The younger man's eyes were pressed tightly together, his brow furrowed in obvious pain. For a moment, House said nothing else. He really sucked at this job. Okay, did Wilson always do in these situations? "Need anything?" he asked softly. Wilson managed to strain both eyes open this time, their deep coloring made glassy by the high fever.

"Yeah, next time Mama Bear sees fit to pay me a visit, pretend I'm sleeping," Wilson responded with what the other man assumed was suppose to be a smirk. House let out a real, yet very quiet, laugh at this.

"Was she that bad?" he questioned.

"Wasn't her fault. I haven't been this lucid since you left this morning. You think I look pathetic now? You should have seen me around noon today." House made a move to reply, but hesitated when Wilson's eyes clamped shut again as he grabbed his abdomen and started to cough again. House replaced his hand on the man's chest, consciously this time, and used his elbow to prop himself up slightly. House waited, ready to grab the glass of water off the nightstand when the fit eased, but Wilson showed no signs off stopping. Even as out of practice as he was, House knew that this was not a good thing. Sitting straight up, he wasted no time in throwing the blankets away from the sick man's upper body, grabbing him under the arms, and pulling him somewhat awkwardly into a sitting position against him. Wilson cried out in protest as he did so, his right hand managing to find House's right pant leg and squeeze this fabric tight. House didn't have time to think about how good it felt not to be forced by pain to rip Wilson's hand away and wallow in his own misery. Instead, he placed his arm gently around Wilson's middle and held the younger man upright against his chest.

"Hey, hey! Slow down. Try to take slow deep breaths," he said softly in his friend's ear. Nothing could be done unless he could get him to relax. Wilson's grip tightened slightly, and he nodded his head as if to say he was already trying that without much success. "All right, just take it easy. It'll pass." Wilson nodded once again, this time saying, 'Thanks Captain Obvious! I never could have figured that out on my own! Doesn't stop it from hurting like a bitch!' House wondered if it was weird that he got all of that out of a nod. After quite a few painful seconds, the coughing did eventually begin to die down, but, unfortunately, didn't make House feel as relieved as he initially believed it would. Through the coughing, he could practically feel Wilson's temperature rising against him. If he kept this up, he was heading for the coldest shower of his life. But, being Wilson, House was sure he'd had more than his share of cold showers.

"Here. Take a sip," House said as he brought the water glass up to his friend's mouth. Wilson did as he was told, panting heavily from the subsequent breathlessness. Each breath was wheezy and difficult and House could hear an obvious fluid build up in his lungs. No this was definitely not good.

"Thanks," Wilson managed to wheeze as House took the water away.

"No problem," House replied, setting the glass back on the nightstand. "I'm gonna go get some more pillows so you can stay sitting up, but I need to go and get something, okay?" Wilson nodded his assent, 'I hope that something is a shotgun so you can put me out of my misery like in that movie with the dog that got rabies.' 'What was that movie called again?' House thought to himself as he pulled the extra pillows from the closet and arranged them behind Wilson with as much care as you could ask of him. He chose not to consider the irony of comparing Wilson to a dog yet again as he opened the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and grabbed the overdone first-aid kit Cameron had bought him for Christmas last year.

"Is everything all right?" Blythe asked as he was making his way back to the bedroom.

"Yeah, mom. I just need to check a few things. I don't think it's anything to worry about," he reassured her, hoping it was a satisfying enough answer to keep her busy with supper and not bugging them. What? He could only take so much kindness in one day before his brain exploded.

"First thing's first," House dug out the thermometer and showed it to Wilson. The younger man nodded his head. 'Do your worst.' House placed the thermometer in his ear gently, and shook his head at the reading, glad that Wilson had his eyes closed again. 103.7. Not good, but not an immediate threat just yet.

"Okay, Wilson, you're going to have to sit all the way up for a second if you can," House said as he sat the kit on the bed and began rearranging the pillows once more. Once he had Wilson up, moaning and whimpering all the way, he took out his stethoscope and placed it on Wilson's chest under his shirt. He could have still gotten a nice enough sound through the fabric, but Wilson was squirming some as the sickness hurt him and such actions tend to generate an unpleasant sound in such a device when it is placed over such material. Wilson winced from the cold, which caused a whole host of new pains to assault him, and House instantly regretted not trying through the shirt first.

"Deep breath, buddy," he said softly. Wilson bit his lip but did as he was told. After a few repetitions of this as House moved the stethoscope to various locations on the younger man's chest and back, House declared his work finished.

"Congratulations, Dr. Wilson. Looks like you've won a brand new case on pneumonia," he said as he took the ear buds out and placed the device back in his bag. Wilson groaned dramatically in response.

"Can I go back to sleep now?" he moaned. House smiled despite himself.

"Sure," he answered, helping the sick man to lie back down, still propped up on his gradient of pillows. House pulled the blankets up, sat the first-aid kit on the floor near the head of the bed, and stood to leave. A hand on his wrist stopped him.

"Wait," Wilson said, eyes flying open. House turned back, mildly surprised and very curious. Wilson immediately looked embarrassed and released the older man's wrist. "Um, do you think maybe you could…stay, for a while?" Wilson looked suddenly self-conscious, and for a moment House just stood there and stared at the younger man's face. No one had ever asked that of him before. Even Stacey would kick him out after the first ten minutes. He didn't even feel the grin that formed on his lips.

"Scootch over," he said. Wilson did so as much as he could, giving House only a sliver of mattress, but he could deal. Lifting the covers from the edge of the bed, House slipped underneath them with as much ease as a man in a brace could. Wilson immediately reached for him, but he stopped the younger man's movements by placing one arm around him and holding him gently in place. The sick man's eyes had closed again as he leaned his forehead in to rest against House's. House stroked his sweaty back softly in response, closing his own eyes. He didn't care if he got sick, and apparently Wilson didn't anymore either. Of course it could just be the confusion from the fever. The fact that the man was this lucid was a miracle. But as masculofeminine as Wilson was, he was never one to back down with out one hell of a fight. House guessed this applied to microscopic organisms as well.

The next time House opened his eyes, it was dark. Not only was it nighttime, but someone had pulled the curtain as well, shutting out the glow of that idiotically placed security light that his apartment's previous tenants had left him as a housewarming gift. Wilson was no longer wrapped around him in a suffocating cocoon of heat. Instead, the sick man was lying on his back, twisting and turning as the disease hurt him. The small whimpering noises he was making might have been funny if House's heart hadn't recently grown five sizes. House did snort at that one. What was with him comparing Wilson to dogs all the time? He really did look like a puppy though. No one could deny that.

Wilson's body continued to twitch with the pain, but his muscles were so rigid and weak that they barely moved. His fever hadn't gone up though. That was a good sign. Propping himself up on one elbow, house spared a glance at the clock. 9:37 it read. Five hours he'd been there. Great. Now he'd never get back to sleep. Wilson gave another loud whimper, and House was forced to feel sorry for him. Someone had also placed the bowl of cold water on the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed as House had a few hours before. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed the washcloth, soaked it, rang it out over the bowl, and placed it softly on Wilson's forehead. The fevered man leaned into it automatically. House moved slowly, patting down his face and neck with the cloth in one hand and using his other to brush the damp hair away from his scorching skin. Gradually, the whimpers turned into contented sighs as the young man began to settle into a more relaxed sleep. Once House was satisfied that Wilson was as comfortable as possible, he eased out from under the covers and quietly made his way out into the living room, keeping the door open a bit just in case.

"Good evening, Sleeping Beauty. Have a nice nap?" Blythe House asked from her seat at the edge of the sofa.

"Superb," House replied half-sarcastically. "Nice call with the blinds, by the way."

"I remember how much you complained about that light when you first moved in," his mother smiled. House grinned back and took a seat next to her.

"I don't suppose waking me crossed your mind?"

"Oh, you two just looked so adorable, I couldn't bring myself to do it. And James looked like he needed you," she replied, her smile unwavering. House rolled his eyes but noticed his own grin had not left his face. He was doing entirely too much smiling today, and it was about time to put an end to it. Besides, adorable was not an adjective he was comfortable with being used to describe him. "How is James?" Blythe asked, smile now faded into something more empathetic.

"Getting worse. Looks like the beginning of pneumonia," House answered, blunt as always.

"Oh, my. Should he be taken to the hospital?" asked the always overly concerned mother. She hadn't always been that way. Like her husband, Blythe House had never been that worried when one of them got sick. Serious illness was not something commonly seen in the House family. Sure with all the moving around they did they'd seen some tough things, but all of that happened to other people in other families. It wasn't until the death of Greg's sister that his mother developed this paranoia. It had been so sudden and unexpected and a lot like what was happening to Wilson right then.

"No, not yet. We may never have to. Especially with your very own doctor in residency," House tried to reassure her, looking around the room restlessly as he spoke. Blythe knew what that meant.

"If it's nothing serious, then what's on your mind?" she asked carefully, hoping her son would open up to her for once. She should have known better.

"Right now, Kate Beckinsale's breasts," he responded, staring at the television where is mother was ironically watching 'Much Ado About Nothing' on his TIVO. Blythe paid no attention to his attempted avoidance.

"Gregory, I know something is bothering you. So you can either tell me now or I will just keep bugging you until I figure it out. House gave his mother a calculating look, and he knew she was serious.

"You remember Lisa Cuddy?" he began slowly.

"Of course. Nice girl, bad sense of fashion," Blythe replied, happy her son had relented so easily. House cracked a small grin at that which quickly faded. Too much smiling. "She asked me to do something for her. Something big. And today I agreed."

"Think you could be any more vague about that?" Blythe responded with gentle sarcasm. House smirked again. Damn it!

"She, uh, she asked me to help her have…a…baby," House prepared himself for all possible reactions.

"Oh," his mother said, her expression unreadable. "Does James…know about this?"

"He knows she asked. He doesn't know I said yes. It's just one more thing for him to worry about. He doesn't need that right now," House explained. Blythe nodded absently, trying to figure out what to say. This had certainly not been what she had expected.

"And you're…sure about this? This is what you want?"

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Greg avoided.

"No, it's just…being a father is a serious commitment. Have you really thought this over?" his mother was using what he had recently designated her "Cameron" voice.

"Trust me, I live with a man who over thinks how much conditioner to use. Too much and his hair looks oily; too little and his hair's too frizzy. Just right and his hair looks and feels like it was ordered out of "Every Woman's Fantasy" magazine," House reverted to using sarcasm.

"Then why is it bothering you so much?" Blythe questioned. House looked up at her for a moment then turned to stare at something interesting on the wall to her left.

"I don't wanna screw this up," he replied quietly. Whether he was referring to the baby or his relationship with James, Blythe wasn't sure. Nor did she figure that it mattered. What did matter was that her son needed her. Although, under the circumstances, she wasn't quite sure what to say. Taking a deep breath, she carefully placed a gentle hand on his left knee and squeezed.

"Honey, nothing is certain in life. No matter what choices we make, there's always the chance that we might 'screw it up'. All we can do is try our best and hope that it's enough."

"And what if it isn't?" House asked, apparently finding the hand on his knee very interesting.

"Then we do what we can with whatever outcome there may be," Blythe continued reassuringly.

"Not everyone may be capable of keeping such a bright and cheerful outlook," the doctor pointed out, still staring downward.

"Then I'll do it for you," his mother told him firmly, giving his leg another strong and gentle squeeze. House looked up at her this time, an expression of mild, inadvertent surprise on his face. Blythe gave him a small smile. Much to her surprise, Greg smiled back. More of a grin really, but it was there.

"So, what have you been doing while the Boy Wonder and I are off saving the world?" House changed the subject. Blythe shook her head just barely. That was more like her son.

"I've been looking for an apartment, of course," she replied, going with it. Greg never was comfortable with emotions. "Nothing yet, but don't worry, I'll keep looking. I'll be out of your hair before you know it."

"Take your time," House told her.

"Thank you, dear. But I know how uncomfortable you must be with your old mother hanging around all the time. I certainly wouldn't have enjoyed my mother living in my house," she smiled brightly. House gave another grin.

"It's fine. At least until Wilson's feeling better. Somebody has to be around to do everything for me." Blythe took the hand from his knee and smacked his arm playfully.

"Gregory House, that better not be the truth. Relationships are all about give and take," she reprimanded.

"Yeah, you mean like Wilson gives me food and I take it." House played dumb.

"You know very well that isn't what I mean!" Blythe continued, her smile still in place.

"Yes, mom, I know what you mean," House finally relented, finding himself too weary to keep arguing. Blythe raised her chin in triumph.

"Good. Now be quite. I'm missing my show." she scolded, turning back to face the television. House sat back as well. For a moment there was only silence as Benedict swore his undying love for Beatrice. But House could only take so much quite.

"So, who do you think's hotter, Keanu Reeves or Denzel Washington?"

Yay! Chapter 11 is here! Sorry it took so long! My internet sucks! Hope you enjoyed! Drop a hint if you did! Thanks!