Here's chapter two. It's a little different than I thought...but I think it works. :) So, review and...what not. Have a good day!

As colors, images and sounds swirled and flashed around House, he tried to catch a glimpse of what was passing. However, he was unable to get a clue as to where Thomas the guardian angel was taking him. After a few seconds it all stopped, and House looked around his surroundings.

Thomas and House were still alone, but no longer on the hospital's rooftop.

Thomas raised his eyebrow at House. "Impressed?"

House looked sideways at the angel. "Maybe."

"Why can't you ever give anybody a definitive answer?"

"Doesn't your boss know the answer to that?" House snapped.

"Yes. But do you?" Thomas asked, catching House off guard. When House didn't have an immediate answer, Thomas asked, "So you believe me now? Did transporting you convince you that I am in fact an angel?"

"Second Class Angel, buddy." House sighed and looked up into the night sky. "Yeah. Either that, or I'm having one hell of a dream."

Thomas nodded. "Good." He swept an arm in the air, gesturing to the surroundings. "Do you know where we are?"

House glanced around the area that he and Thomas had landed. "My old home, from when I was like six."

Thomas nodded. "So the narcotics haven't made you totally lose your memory."

After House had identified where they were, the surrounds became more clear and distinct. They were standing on the front porch of an old, two story house that he had lived in for the period of time when House and his family had lived in Virginia. It was a quaint place; simple white paint on the outside with a well kept and modest lawn. A perfect example of the American life.

"Let's go in," Thomas said, striding to the front door and entering the house by going through the door in a ghost-like way without opening the door. House stared at the departed Thomas in amazement. Shrugging, House limped after him, shifting through the door just like Thomas had done.

The scene in front of Thomas and House was one that House was familiar with. House turned to Thomas, who had his arms crossed and brows furrowed.

"They can't see or hear us, right?" House asked.

Thomas shook his head.

House looked back to the past before him. It was a typical night at the House's home. Blythe House was in the kitchen cleaning up the day's worth of dishes. John House, now alive, was sitting in his armchair with his feet propped up, smoking a cigar and reading the newspaper. The younger version of Gregory House, probably five or six, was lying on his stomach on the floor, knees bent and legs sticking up in the air shaking to some unheard rhythm and scribbling something in a notebook.

House looked over to Thomas. "Is this really that important?"

Thomas was looking at a lamp on the table next to him and said without looking to House, "You'll see."

House rolled his eyes and turned his gaze back to his younger self. He remembered that awful haircut that his dad had forced on him. House's mother had let it get "too long" and John had taken matters into his own hands and had given Greg a short military cut like himself. Greg had hated it.

Finally, it seemed as though the past House's were doing something.

"Boy," John House said. "Stop that."

Younger Greg looked up at his father. "Stop what?"

"Movin' your leg! It's shaking the whole floor!"

"Sorry dad." Greg let his legs fall to the floor and he continued writing in his notebook.

House turned to Thomas. "So what? My dad was picky. What relevance does this have-?"

Thomas held up a hand to silence House, and then pointed to Blythe in the kitchen. House looked too.

Greg's mother had her hands against the kitchen counter with her head down and her shoulders shaking from her sobs. She looked up, seeing if anyone was witnessing her breakdown, unbeknownst to her that her older son and a strange angel were watching. She bit her knuckles to keep from making a sound, and House swallowed, feeling his mother's pain.

"What's wrong with her?" House asked Thomas.

Thomas shrugged.

"I know you know," House stated.

"Maybe. But it's more fun this way."

"You know I don't like you that much, right?" House turned back to look at his mom, who was now wiping her eyes and taking a few deep breaths, and then walking into the living room. As she passed House, he could get a whiff of the perfume that she used to wear, and it brought House even further back into nostalgia.

Blythe walked over to her young son and knelt down next to him. "Time to go to bed honey."

"Ten more minutes mom! Please?" Greg whined.

"You heard your mom! Get out of here!" John yelled, pointing to the stairs with his cigar between his fingers.

Greg sighed dramatically, and shuffled up the stairs to his room.

"I'll be in there in a minute Gregory," Blythe called after her son. Then turning to her husband, she rang her hands together.

"John?"

"What?" John House spat.

"Are you okay? You've been kind of…tense lately," Blythe said.

"Tense? Really?" John threw his newspaper onto the floor and glared at his wife. "I've got to deal with you, and the kid-,"

"John, don't start about that-,"

"…And the stress of work, and you think I'm a little tense?" He stood up and towered over his wife. "Do you?"

"I…John, stop it."

"Don't tell me what to stop." John grabbed Blythe forcefully by the arm and shook her.

House looked frantically over to Thomas, who was viewing the fight with a grim face. House remembered this night perfectly now. Any minute, he would…

Both John and Blythe turned around fast to see Greg sitting on the top stair against the wall, crying and shaking like him mom had been earlier in the kitchen. Blythe quickly freed herself from her husband's grasp and ran up the stairs to her son and enclosed him in a hug.

"Why are you and daddy fighting?" Greg asked his mom through his sobs.

"Nothing. Don't worry about it, he didn't hurt me." Looking over her son's shoulder, Blythe shot her husband a harsh look. John stood in the middle of the living room where he had been, staring up at his wife and son.

"He won't do it again?" Greg asked.

For a second, Blythe paused, but then said, "No. He won't." She said this while her eyes were unmoving from John's.

The rest happened as House remembered it; his mom took him up to his room and read his stories until he fell asleep. But House knew that from before. This time, he was watching his father who stared at the place on the stairs where Greg and Blythe had been long after they were gone. This time, House got to hear his father mutter two words that seemed so unlike him.

"I won't."

After that, the scene faded and the surroundings become unrecognizable.

"So, did that surprise you?" Thomas asked.

House bit his bottom lip. "That was the beginning of me learning to hate my dad."

"But," Thomas said, holding a finger up at House. "You did something good there. Because of you, your father never laid a harmful hand on your mother again."

"So what? I'm no big hero. He wouldn't have hurt her anyway if they hadn't caught me watching their fight."

Thomas tilted his head. "Are you so sure about that? John looked pretty dangerous to me."

House shrugged, and Thomas took a step closer to him.

"That night, by saying those words, 'I won't', he promised to never hurt your mom again. And he didn't," Thomas explained.

"Physically," House muttered.

"There's just no pleasing you, is there?" Thomas sighed and snapped his fingers.

A bright scene appeared around them. It was a bright summer's day and they were standing in a driveway with several people standing around a jam packed car. House recognized this as the day he left for college.

This time, it was a nineteen year old Greg House that was the focus of the past. His hair was long, thick and curly and the present House ran a hand through his hair, forgetting is younger hair style. Nineteen year old House was much different than how he was now. The two both shared the same bright blue eyes, but House's younger self seemed much taller because his athletic frame was not used to slouching over because of his chronic use of a cane and he was free of the lines and wrinkles that now lined House's face.

"Look at you, you're a young wipper-snapper," Thomas remarked. House rolled his eyes and looked back to the scene with him and his family preparing for Greg's departure to college.

"I'm so happy for you Gregory." Blythe kissed her son on his cheek. Nineteen year old Greg scoffed.

"Mom. I'm still going to be alive. I'm not leaving forever."

"Oh, but I know how it is. You'll get up there and you'll never want to leave." Blythe looked sadly up at her son and ran her hands down his arms. Then he pulled him into a hug and whispered into his ear, "I'm so proud of you."

House looked away from the scene with his mom and younger self and to Thomas. "I've learned my lesson. I'm a great person, blah, blah, blah."

Thomas ignored House's comment and continued to look intently at the scene in front of them.

Blythe took one last look at her son, and then stepped away. John House, who had also been watching Blythe's and Greg's encounter, took a step towards Greg and extended his hand. Greg took his father's hand in his, and shook it, the closest affection he had gotten from his father in a long time.

"Don't try to screw up too badly, okay?" John asked. Greg glared at his father and let his hand drop to his side.

"I've got to go," Greg said, opening his car door and ducking inside. As nineteen year old Greg drove away, House watched his mother and father. Blythe smiled and waved, but when she thought that her son could no longer see her, she burst into tears and turned to her husband. John retained his stony face expression, but let Blythe sob on his shoulder and he rubbed small circles on her back.

"Your dad did care about you."

House looked over at Thomas. "No, he didn't," House argued.

"He may not have seemed like it, but he did."

"Yeah, right." House scoffed. "My dad didn't love me."

Thomas shrugged. "Whatever. You do know everything."

"Is that sarcasm?"

With a glint in his eye, Thomas snapped his fingers again, and House was brought to a fatherless memory this time. It was a few years after the scene previously, Greg had not aged much. But what shocked House most about this particular memory was the other person in it.

Lying in the bed next to the younger version of him tangled in the sheets was a young Lisa Cuddy.

"Hey! You can't be here," House said to Thomas, trying to push him away. Thomas only shrugged away from him.

"This is an important moment," Thomas said. "Don't you agree?"

House shook his head. "I don't want to…" He looked over to where Cuddy was snuggled next to his younger self.

"What happened?" Thomas asked.

"I was her tutor," House said slowly. "One night, she was over late and…" House looked at Thomas intently. "Then…you know." House raised his eyebrows. "I banged my future boss."

"Yes, in derogatory words, more or less." Thomas cleared his throat. "What made you decide to, uh…bang her?"

House watched Lisa's steady rise and fall of her chest, and her small smile that she wore on her face while she slept peacefully. "I don't know…she was smart, pretty…"

"You know what your problem is Greg?" Thomas asked.

"I have a feeling that you're going to tell me anyway," House muttered.

"It's that you can never express your feelings."

"I haven't heard that one before," House said sarcastically.

"Then why don't you do anything about it if you already know? You have done it with everybody. Your friends, your parents, people that matter to you. You were faced with it not too long ago when Cuddy asked you about why you negate everything, but what did you do?"

"I…kissed her."

Thomas nodded. "You may have not been able to express your emotions with words, but you did with actions. But…you didn't tell her how you feel."

"I don't feel anything."

"Oh, really?" Thomas asked. He motioned to the two young adults that were lying next to each other. Greg now had wrapped an arm around Lisa, and brought her closer to him and then gently kissed her on the cheek. Lisa, who now was awake too, met his lips to receive a passionate kiss, with Greg's hand sliding down her back.

Thomas nudged House was gaping at himself with Cuddy. "Looks like you feel something to me."

"That was a long time ago-,"

"You mean to tell me that you didn't feel anything that night when you kissed Lisa Cuddy at her home?"

House paused.

"Ah, I see." Thomas placed a hand on House's shoulder. "You may be able to lie to others, and you may be able to convince yourself that things are not true, but can do neither to me."

House shrugged Thomas's hand off.

"You know you broke her heart? After this night," Thomas said, nodding towards to the two lovers, "You will begin to avoid Lisa, and she will wonder what happened to the Greg that she spent this night with. She will cry, because she won't understand. But, she will get over you, and continue with her life, remembering this night as the one night that she was with the Gregory House without inhibitions."

"People have inhibitions for a reason," House muttered.

"And," Thomas continuing, "When she meets you years later, only this time you are looking for employment, emotions are rekindled but neither of you act on them. Now, she wonders if you're even worth it, or if that Greg House that she knew in college is even still there."

"So…she wants to be with me?" House whispered.

"I can't tell you. You have to find out for yourself."

"What? Come on Thomas buddy!"

Thomas crossed his arms and shook his head. "Nope. You have to face your people problem."

"But…she has a baby now, she won't want me…"

"What makes you think that? Maybe she needs you."

"I…I don't know…"

"Greg. You can do whatever you want, but this is something that you can take control of, and whatever happens will happen." Thomas leaned in closer to House and whispered in his ear, "But it can't get much worse than it is, can it?"

House stared blankly at Thomas. "What…?"

"You have nothing to lose."

Leaving House to think about that, Thomas snapped his fingers, circling him and House once more in a blur of color, leaving the one night that Greg gave everything to Lisa. Himself, without holding back.