Another sad chapter - sorry!

Chapter 48: Passages – Part 2

Something about the sound of the telephone's ring made House believe that it wasn't going to be good news. He was right.

"Hello?" he said cautiously.

"Greg." His mother's voice was tearful.

"What's wrong, Mom?"

"Your father. He's had a heart attack. He's in intensive care."

"What do the doctors say?"

"I don't know! I can't understand what they're telling me. Greg, do you think, could you come?"

He took a deep breath. "Sure, Mom. I'll get the next plane. I'll be there as soon as I can."

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There is almost always room in first class. House was able to get a plane ticket and walked into the hospital less than eight hours after his mother's phone call.

As soon as she saw her son, Blythe House ran to him and buried her face in his chest. Assuming the worst, House said, "Mom, is he…"

"No, no, I'm just so glad you're here. I just didn't know what to do! I never understood any medical stuff. His doctor is coming out any minute."

Moments later, a doctor in he early thirties emerged and approached Blythe. She immediately introduced House.

"This is my son, Greg. He's a doctor. Could you please explain the situation to him?"

"Nice to meet you, Dr. House. Your father's condition is very serious."

Blythe stood aside as the doctor went into details about her husband. She watched her son nod, ask questions and offer suggestions. The other doctor answered. Finally, they ended the conversation and the doctor left.

House looked at his mother. He was used to telling patients' families bad news. He usually just said it right out, unconcerned for their feelings. But this was his mother. Besides his wife, this was the only other person in the world that he couldn't hurt. He tried to find an easy way to tell her.

"Mom, it doesn't look good. There's been massive damage to his heart."

"But there are those bypass operations. I have lots of friends who have had them and they're just fine."

House shook his head. "There's too much damage. There is nothing to bypass to."

"What about a transplant? My cousin had a transplant twenty years ago."

"He's too old. No transplant committee will approve a transplant for a man his age."

"What do you mean? He's only seventy-six! Are you saying that his life has no more meaning? That's he's not as valuable a human being as a younger man?"

"There are a limited number of organs available for transplant. They can only go to people who have a good chance for survival. Would you rather see Dad get a heart than some forty-year-old woman with some young children to raise?"

He thought of his own decision to lie about the CEO, Carly Forlano's condition to get her a heart when she really didn't deserve it by the hospital's standards. Who died because they didn't get that heart?

"Yes, I would! I know that's awful, but I don't know that woman and this is my husband."

House smiled to himself. Maybe more of his personality came from his mom than he thought.

"It's not our decision. And it's not going to happen the way you want."

"Are you saying he's going to die?"

House didn't answer, just looked at the floor.

"No!" Blythe cried. "I can't accept that! I won't!"

'The doctor said he's awake. You can go in to see him."

There were tears in her eyes, but she quickly wiped them and headed to the Intensive Care room where her husband lay. When she realized that her son was not following her, she turned and looked at him.

"Greg, aren't you coming?"

House hesitated. Was he ready to face his father as he lay on what was probably his deathbed? He wasn't sure, but the look on his mother's face decided it.

"Sure. Mom."

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The man in the bed barely looked like his father. John House's face still was the same, but he was pale and seemed to have shrunk under the weight of the hospital equipment that was monitoring him.

Blythe immediately went to her husband, took his hand and kissed his cheek.

Not knowing what to do, House went over to the monitors and checked the readouts. This he knew. This he could handle.

Talking to his father was something else altogether.

"John," Blythe said. "Greg is here."

John's eyes moved, searching for his son. House finally approached the bed.

"Hi, Dad."

John looked at House. "Took me almost dying for you to visit your mother."

"John, please…" Blythe began.

"It's okay. Mom."

"No, it's not! The two of you need to work this out …before it's too late."

With those words, Blythe went out the door and down the hallway, leaving House alone with this father.

'"So," John began, "I guess I'm dying."

House looked at him. "What makes you say that?'

"You're here in this room. Your mother wants you to talk to me. She assumes it's our last chance. So, what do you want to say?"

House thought of the many things he wanted to say, the things he'd never been able to say, the things that ate at his gut late at night. But looking at the old and wasted man lying in the bed, the words died. There was nothing he could do to change the past, nothing that would make the present any better. It just was.

"I'll make sure Mom's okay. She can come to live with us if she wants. Kate won't mind."

John had been staring at his son, expecting the worst. When it didn't come, he just nodded. "That's good. She's never lived on her own before."

They were silent.

"Greg."

House tapped his cane on the floor, avoiding his father's eyes. "Yeah Dad?"

"I know you think that I was a bad father. I did the best I knew how. The best I learned from my own father. Now that you have kids, you probably understand how hard it is."

"Yeah, I know how hard it is. But I still never have and will never, ever do to my kids what you did to me."

His father stared at him, getting ready to say more, when a nurse interrupted them.

"I'm sorry, we have to run some tests. You can come back in a few minutes. I'll call you."

House nodded and left the room. In the hallway, he encountered his mother walking towards him.

"Did you make up with your father?'

"We weren't fighting. There was nothing to make up."

"Oh, Greg. You told me there's no hope, that he's dying. Don't you want to clear the air before that happens?"

"What's the point? What good would it do? Neither one of us is ever going to change."

House walked away from her.

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Later that evening, John House suffered another heart attack. The medical team tried, but they were unable to get his heart started again. He was pronounced dead.

Blythe wept quietly. House put his arm around her and tried to comfort her, although he knew it was useless.

He called Kate to tell her what happened.

"Oh, " she said, "Your poor mother, how is she?"

"She's okay. Upset, but she'll be okay."

"And how are you?"

"Fine."

"Just fine?"

"Yep."

Kate knew there was more to it, but late at night over the telephone was not the time to discuss it. Unfortunately, knowing Greg House, never would be a good time for him to discuss it.

Since Kate and the girls would have to come to the funeral, Kate promised to make immediate airline arrangements.

"I'll call James, if you want."

"Why?"

"He's your best friend. I think he'll want to go to your father's funeral. Anyway, he'll never forgive you if you don't tell him."

"Okay, okay, I'll call him. You just worry about getting yourself and the kids here. I miss you.''

Kate smiled. "I miss you too."

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Three days later, House sat between his mother and his wife in front of his father's coffin, listening to his fellow marines talk about John House. The words that they used were: "Strong" "brave" "fair" "decent" "friend". Those words didn't come to mind when he thought of his father. But these men seemed to know him and to like him.

It had been a hectic three days. Kate and the girls had managed to fly in the next afternoon with Wilson. There had been a lot of running around to plan the military funeral. His mother was holding on by a thin string and needed to lean on him quite a bit. He hadn't really had any time to reflect on his father's death. He doubted he'd be able to do it here at the funeral.

He was right. Before long the guns were shot and the flag draping the coffin was presented to his mother and they were leaving the cemetery. Then there was the funeral luncheon, where his mother needed him to stay beside her. He had to endure the words of condolence from his father's friends and colleagues. His mother also took the opportunity to show off her grandchildren to her friends.

Eventually, it was all over and House prepared to take his family home. Kate tried to convince Blythe to come with them, but at present she had lots of friends taking care of her. She promised to come and stay in a few weeks. But she really felt she needed to get used to being alone without her husband.

House, Kate, Wilson, Monica and Emily returned to Princeton.

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Several weeks later…

Kate was worried that House was holding in his feelings about his father's death. They had returned home and he had gone back to work. He made sure to call his mother regularly to check up on her and to encourage her to come and stay with them. But he never talked about his father.

When House came home form work, he went to the kitchen in search of Kate and the kids. They were there, preparing food.

"Dinner is almost ready." Kate said as she kissed him. "Oh, and your mother called."

"She okay?" he asked.

"Yes, she was just clearing out your father's stuff and wanted to know if there was anything you wanted. You need to call and tell her."

He turned and limped into he dining room to pour himself a drink. "No, I don't, because I don't want anything."

She followed him. "Come on, Greg, there must be something of your father's that you want as a memento."

"People need mementos because they want to remember someone. I don't want to remember the son of a bitch."

"Greg. He's dead. Can't you let it go?"

"Why should I? Why should dying absolve someone of everything they've done? He was a jerk. I hated him. Ask me if I'm glad he's dead."

"Greg, I would never ask you that."

"Because you know the answer is yes. Yes, I'm glad he's dead. I'm glad I can see my mother without having to see him. I can call her on the phone without worrying that he'll answer and I'll have to talk to him."

"Oh, honey."

"My life is better now that he's gone. The bullshit, the pretending we all care about each other is gone. It's the most liberated I've ever been."

Kate could tell that he was serious. "You really aren't grieving for him at all?"

"No. You only grieve for people you miss. I don't miss him. I'm happy he's gone."

He returned to the kitchen and with a smile on his face, began talking to Monica and Emily. Kate watched him, amazed. He really meant it.

Later when he was sitting at the piano, she sat down beside him and put her arms around him.

He looked at her. "What's up?"

"I'm sorry that you feel the way you do about your father. I understand why you do and I even think you're right. But it kills me that you have to feel that way."

"It's okay, Kate. I don't need him. I never needed him. But now that I have you and the girls, I understand what family means. He was never it. You always will be."