Okay, this is a pivotal chapter!!! We finally get a grip of where House is coming from, or at least I think so. Thanks for the reviews again…and again…and again. :o)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

After Debra had fallen asleep, Cameron put Gregory down for the night. House and Wilson discussed whether Debra should go to the funeral or not. House thought it should be up to her, while Wilson and Cameron thought she should go. If anyone would know what Debra was going through, it would be House. But that didn't appease Cameron or Wilson. Of course, House didn't go into any further detail, and the two didn't push it, either.

Wilson was emphatic about her not going alone, but there was no one to watch Gregory. Allison offered, but Wilson told her no because of her own pregnancy. Wilson asked House if he would go with her, and House used Cameron's pregnancy as an excuse, too, not mentioning his offer of going with her.

They went back and forth for an hour or so before House decided he'd go with her, and that Cameron should stay with Wilson. They'd only be gone a few days, and it shouldn't be a problem with Cuddy at all.

'Besides, I've got Cuddy wrapped around my little finger, anyway,' is what House told his two friends.

Wilson kicked his two friends out so he could be with Debra; House and Cameron went home so he could pack, and call his Aunt to tell her they'd be driving up the next day.

Of course, they didn't know whether she'd actually go or not. On one hand, she wanted to go; on the other, she was scared and didn't want to go. She'd been hurt, a lot, and didn't want to have to deal with it at all.

As it turned out, Debra had woken up in the wee hours of the morning and she and Wilson did talk about whether she wanted to go. After she attacked Wilson with every possible reason why she shouldn't go, she finally conceded.

Debra was still numb from the sedative, but they made love that night, at her request. It was the only thing that made her feel alive lately. It seemed lately he and Gregory were the only two reasons she had to live for.

She went to sleep later that morning with a hundred different scenarios in her head of what would happen, but none of them would come to pass. She was on her own, and would have to take it as it came to her.

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On the drive northwest to Debra's parent's house, both House and Debra were quiet, with soft jazz filling the confinement of the car. Debra stared out the side window at the passing blur of trees while House stared absentmindedly out the window at the road. The two were in their own little worlds, going over their own little thoughts, rehashing their own little sucky childhoods.

"Debra, why didn't you ever come and talk to me?"

She hesitated a moment as she thought about it. "I don't know. I figured it would be more crap on your shoulders that you didn't need; you sure didn't need to worry about me." She wasn't sure if it was the truth but he bought it, or at least she hoped he did. "Besides, what would you have done? And would you have even believed me?"

House was quiet for several minutes. "Nothing, I suppose; I wouldn't have done anything. And yes, I would have believed you."

She sighed heavily before she continued. "I guess after a while I chalked it up to just a kid thinking something happened that didn't. But then it happened again and…" She was just rambling now, and she was instantly pissed at herself for letting that last part slip out. She avoided looking at him but just stared out the window. "No, the story I told you…wasn't the only time."

House rolled his eyes, shook his head and looked at her angrily. "What? Why did you lie?"

"I didn't lie, I just didn't tell the whole truth. Makes the conversation go by quicker."

"It's okay," House said; his voice soft and gentle. "He's gone now."

"Phht, that doesn't make it any easier."

"No, it doesn't."

"But Jeanne is helping me; I mean, I've seen her three times the past week – how could she not?" She hesitated again, debating whether she should ask the question. "You gonna talk to your dad?" House didn't answer; he just stared out the window. "Guess I was right."

He glanced at her confused. "About what?"

"When I was shot, remember? I told you to talk to your dad before it was too late. I knew you wouldn't, and it's definitely too late for me."

It was at least fifteen minutes before either of them spoke again, and it was House. "What good would it do?"

Debra had her head tilted back on the head rest with her eyes closed but she wasn't asleep. What good would what do?"

"To talk to my dad?"

"Bring closure?"

"Ah."

Debra laughed a little under her breath. "At least that's what Jeannie tells me." A few minutes went by then she asked, "You nervous?"

House didn't answer right away. "No."

"Liar."

"Yeah, I know."

"Let me know when you need a break from driving with your leg."

"No, your driving scares me."

"What? I've never driven with you."

"Oh, right." House cracked a smile then, but Debra didn't see it. She had other things on her mind.

"Greg, are you mad you didn't die?"

House was at first mad that she'd brought it up again, not that he knew why he was. He flashed her a look and she was looking at him now. He didn't want to answer, and he wasn't going to. "Are you?"

She glanced out of his side window and was silent for several minutes. "A little, I guess." Her voice trailed off as she thought about it.

House's voice was small and weak. "Yes, I was mad. I just felt…"

"…felt at peace with it all," she finished for him.

House nodded his head. "Yeah. It would have been easier."

"Easier to die? Yeah, it would have. But looking back on it now, I'm glad I was given a second chance."

"Is that what you think?"

She looked into his face again. "Yeah, of course. Ah, that's right. Wilson told me your great belief in religion, or lack thereof. Yeah, I was given a second chance. We all do stupid things and make stupid mistakes, but then one day it just dawns on you the blessings you do have."

House thought for a minute. "And you didn't intentionally try to kill yourself with the anti-depressants?"

She shook her head. "No, I really didn't. Everything was going so great for me that the only thing I had left to think about was Dad and just wanted it to go away…oh, wait." House looked at her confused, as if she had a complete brain derailment and was talking about something else. "I get it, now."

"What?"

"The reason why you are so obsessed with your patients diagnosis-es – is that a word?" she said with a laugh. "…your rudeness with people to keep them away, you hiding, not dealing with your emotions…"

"I get it! I get it! Get to the point."

"It's your way of keeping your mind preoccupied about Uncle John."

He felt his face flush, his palms grew sweaty, and he was almost to the point of a very bad fit of nervous shaking. He gripped the wheel tighter, his elbows in a locked position, just staring blankly out the window.

If there were suddenly a tree that appeared right in front of the car, House would have hit it. He would have run right over it because he was blindsided, completely.