House opened his eyes.
There was a small head resting on his shoulder, and a little hand curled in his hospital gown.
He sighed, and gently eased his sleeping daughter into his lap as he sat up.
Wilson was there, snoring light in a chair.
"Wilson," rasped House, his throat irritatingly raw.
Wilson woke, and sat up, then smiled as he saw that House was awake.
"You're fine. Rachel didn't see a thing, and Cameron explained what was going on as soon as Cuddy showed up at the emergency room."
House nodded.
"Two ulcers."
Rachel stirred, and looked up at House.
"Dad!"
She hugged him, "you not wake up!"
"It's okay, Rache. It's fine."
She cried.
He sighed, and hugged her.
"Cuddy had to meet with a donor, but she should be back soon."
House nodded.
*
Rachel was asleep when Cuddy came in, curled on the bed next to her father. Wilson had gone back to his office.
Cuddy climbed up next to House on the bed, opposite Rachel.
He put his arm around her shoulders, sighing, "sorry about the scare."
She shook her head and kissed him.
He smiled weakly, as she pulled away.
*
It was that same week, that House was sitting in the living room, dizzy from the upping of his meds to counteract the reducing of the NSAIDs, that Cuddy came in, and sat in his lap, being careful to not put any weight on the painful part of his thigh.
He blinked for a moment.
Then realized she had walked in on forearm crutches.
Which was not something she had done before.
He smiled, and wrapped his arms around her waist, "you kept going to PT."
She nodded.
He pulled her close, smiling.
"I can't handle anything except completely flat surfaces," she admitted, "but it's better than before."
*
House sat curled in the recliner, as Rachel played doctor with Kutner on the floor of the office, and the rest of the team worked a case.
He slept for a while, and woke when Foreman shook his shoulder.
"The patient went into respiratory arrest. Here's the chest x-rays."
House rubbed his face, and wobbled dizzily over to the light box.
"Dad sick now?"
"No, Rachel," said House, as he looked at the x-rays, "Dad's just dizzy."
"You said that before."
"It's okay, Rache. Dad's fine. This patient, on the other hand, has parasites. Check the stool."
Foreman nodded, but gripped House's arm on the way back over to the recliner.
House didn't object.
Rachel watched him for a while, but eventually succumbed to her two-year-old's attention span and went back to playing with Kutner.
Foreman ended up giving House a ride to Chang's office, and another one home.
She put him on a different muscle relaxant.
*
A week later, he was curled in the recliner again, but that time irritable and in pain, his leg spasming non-stop.
He went back to the first stuff and just tried to work through the dizziness.
It wasn't like he really had to walk anywhere, anyway. And he didn't have to carry Rachel around very much anymore, either.
She was either in her stroller or walking.
Cuddy wasn't exactly thrilled with the new plan, but his week of pain on the second drug hadn't been easy to watch.
And Rachel was just getting to the point where she understood what these things meant…that Dad was in pain, and Mom had trouble with her legs.
So now was probably not the best time for a major reworking of House's pain management system…
*
House, Cuddy and Rachel looked up, as the door opened without a knock.
It was just Wilson… but the man never came in without at least asking, not that they really minded.
He looked… very upset.
Rachel toddled over to him, and hugged his leg.
He picked her up, and set her on his hip, but didn't look happy to see her like he usually did.
He walked over, and handed her down to Cuddy.
Then looked at House, who nodded, and got to his feet, limping out into the kitchen with his friend.
Rachel looked at her mother, "what wrong with Wilson?"
"I don't know, Rachel," said Cuddy, "go get Dad's stethoscope. You can listen to my heart."
Rachel brightened and ran into the office to get it.
*
House tried to sit on one of the stools, but had to stop and brace himself on the counter, dizzy.
Wilson stopped pacing long enough to grip his friend's arm, helping House sit.
"What's up?" asked House, once he was seated.
"I'm in love with Cameron."
House looked at his friend for a long time.
"Great," he said.
Wilson started pacing again, "I don't know what to do… she's still getting over Chase… I'm still getting over Amber…"
"Then get over it together," said House, and he actually sounded vaguely sincere.
Wilson looked at the older doctor.
"You're serious."
House shrugged.
"Yeah, I'm serious."
Wilson sighed, "I need to pee."
House snorted, and waved, "well don't let me hold you up…"
Wilson smiled weakly, and went to do his business.
He came back out very shortly, though, and looked at House, "um, the floor's covered in urine."
House blinked for a moment.
Then limped out into the living room, and sat down on the couch next to Cuddy and Rachel.
"Rache," said House, gently, "did you try to use the toilet like a big person?"
She nodded.
"Could you not get onto the seat?"
"I tried to pee but it just went down."
House blinked for a moment.
"Rachel," he said, badly forcing down a smirk, "were you trying to pee like Mom, or like Dad?"
"Mom has trouble."
"So you copied Dad?"
Rachel nodded brightly.
The room was silent for a moment.
Then House laughed, quietly, and, exchanging a smile with Cuddy, took Rachel onto his lap.
"Okay," he said, "here's the thing. Dad's got a tube he points to get the pee in the bowl. But you don't have that tube. So you gotta sit on the bowl, instead of standing over it."
She blinked at him, "oh. How-come I don't get a tube? I want a tube."
House closed his eyes briefly, then shook his head, meeting Wilson's amused eyes, before looking back at his daughter, "only boys have that tube."
"That's not fair!"
"But girls get to have babies, so that makes it even."
Rachel blinked, then replied, "okay."
House patted her head and handed her back to Cuddy, who looked relived that his talk had not included vivid descriptions or anatomical models.
Cuddy climbed into bed next to House, her head resting on his shoulder, and cried.
He put his book down, alarmed, and looked at her through his reading glasses.
"Cuddy?"
"It's been two months. I haven't been getting my period."
"Uh… why are you crying?"
"I'm never going to have a child out of my body. I'm never going to have a child with your and my bodies."
House tilted his head, "are you… sure?"
"What, you think I miscounted for two months? House, I'm hitting menopause."
"There… are other reasons for lack of bleeding," said House, slowly.
"I haven't lost weight. If anything, I've gained it."
"...that's kind of my point."
She looked at him. Then her eyes widened.
She grabbed his hand, "you're driving me to the grocery store. Now."
He smirked, and shook his head, "no need. There's three stick tests in the bathroom under the sink."
She stared at him.
He shrugged, "we've been having unprotected sex. I figured it was possible this would happen."
*
Cuddy made it into the bathroom before House did, and was sitting on the toilet peeing on the stick by the time he got there.
House perched himself on the tub, and they waited in silence.
Cuddy handed House the stick, unable to look at it herself.
House looked.
Then smiled a bit, "I'm guessing the plus sign is a good thing, right?"
Cuddy looked at him, eyes wide.
He showed her the stick.
She hugged him so tightly he could barely breathe.
House reflected, as he patted her back, that her pt had definitely paid off, at least in her arms.
*
House sat on the bench, tapping his fingers, as Rachel played with dolls on the floor in front of him.
Cuddy had wanted to find out if the fetus was healthy alone.
The doctor came out, and House raised his head.
The woman smiled, "you can come in now."
House nodded, taking Rachel's hand. She scooped up her dolls with the other one, and walked with him into the room.
Cuddy was lying on the table, holding the ultrasound probe over her own abdomen.
"Look," she said, turning the monitor so House could see it.
House gulped.
He looked at Cuddy, who smiled sadly, "the… the chance of me carrying… isn't very good. But…"
House nodded, sort of stumbling backwards into a chair, though out of dizziness rather than shock.
"Is Mom sick?" asked Rachel, worriedly.
Cuddy shook her head, "Mom might be going to have a sister or brother for you. But we don't know yet if it will work, okay?"
Rachel seemed uninterested in any news other than the fact that mom wasn't sick. Cuddy thought that it was probably good that she wasn't excited. This probably wouldn't work out, anyway.
*
Two weeks later, House locked himself in his office.
Cuddy stared at the door, and asked through it if she needed to call his Mom.
The response was him asking if Rachel was there.
Cuddy told him Rachel was at the hospital day care.
House opened the door.
He looked horrible.
She sighed, "what is it this time?"
"Switching to a new medication," he mumbled, "withdrawal from the old stuff."
"House, that's not a reason to lock yourself in your office."
"How do you know!?"
Cuddy stared at him.
He rubbed his face, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, "I'm having mood swings and I'm yelling at anyone who speaks to me."
Her expression cleared slightly, and she reached out, gently taking his hand, "it's okay, House. I can handle seeing you through this."
He nodded, "it wasn't you, it was Rachel. I didn't want to yell at her."
"This isn't going to start the thing about your Dad again, is it?"
He scowled, "look… I'm sorry I scared you that time, okay? But it wasn't exactly something *I* want to repeat, either!"
"House, calm down."
He turned away, stumbling back into his darkened office.
"I'm sorry," he muttered.
She came in after him, as he sat at the desk chair, "it isn't your fault, House."
"Swearing at a baby for dropping something? Oh, yeah, that was totally out of my control. I'm so perfect a person. I can't imagine why nobody can stay around me for more than an hour."
Cuddy blinked at him, "House…"
"I should never have done this. I'm not the kind of person who *can* do this. I'm married. I should not *be* married."
"You're not married, House. Legally, yeah. But I don't consider you my husband."
Something flashed, in his blue eyes.
He didn't say anything else, but the room, which had seemed filled with tension and anger before, was suddenly cold.
He got up, and limped out past her.
She turned around, confused.
She heard the front door slam closed.
What… had just happened?
She crutched to the front of the apartment.
It was pouring out. House hadn't taken his coat.
She sighed, and just hoped he didn't hurt himself.
*
House hasn't been to the jogging park in months.
Well, he'd taken Rachel here once, but she'd gotten bored, and that wasn't what he was talking about.
He hasn't been here to avoid Cuddy in months.
He hasn't been here to think in months.
He hasn't been here to let emotion out in months.
It's raining.
And he's crying.
He sits on the table, as rain pounds down on his head, and his body begins to be chilled.
He sits there, cold rain and hot tears mixing on his face.
He doesn't know how long it's been, since he cried.
No, that's not true.
He knows.
It was when Wilson walked out and told him they weren't friends.
The time before that was when Wilson asked him to kill himself for Amber—as good as told him he didn't matter.
He scrubbed at his face, but it did nothing but get snot on his hands.
He wiped them on his pants.
The time before that was when Stacy had told him he wasn't worth what a bastard he'd become.
The time before that was when Dylan had left for his career.
The time before that was when he'd graduated med school top of his class.
When that hadn't mattered to John.
When John had told him he'd done it because he couldn't have handled the Marines.
When he'd climbed in bed with an undergrad, and never wanted to come out.
When she'd stared at him when he stared to cry in the middle of something that didn't tend to make people cry.
He laughs to himself, shivering now, on the table in the rain.
He hadn't cried before that.
The first time he cried since he was five years old was in her bed.
She'd broken the damn, she'd made him…
She'd made him human in a way he hadn't let himself be since the first time he'd sat in the bone chilling water.
Since the first time he'd cried in front of his father, when he was five and John had gotten back from his posting.
He closed his eyes, still crying.
He wished the rain would chill him.
He wished the rain would do what that first bath in ice had done.
He wished the rain would freeze his heart.
He wished he wouldn't have to feel.
He wished he wouldn't care what anyone said.
He wished he wouldn't have to hurt.
He wished he wouldn't have to wish.
*
He eventually slipped out of consciousness, as his body cooled below a temperature it could handle.
A hand shaking him made him open his eyes.
"Can you hear me? You're very cold. I'm going to call an ambulance."
He vaguely registered a police uniform, and shook his head, mumbling something that didn't make any sense.
"Just try to stay awake, alright?"
He tried to answer in the affirmative, but he was already unconscious again.