A/N: Thanks, as always, to the ever-lovely iyimgrace, and thank you, marvelous readers, for all your ego-boosting story alerts! I know, it was quite strange of me to update last time without an A/N, so...AllyCameron: yes, I know, I've been taking too long between updates, but that's about to change, for a bit, at least. Speaking of which, welcome to the first of my four parter: Chapters 13, 14, 15, and 16 will be the "Sink or Swim" series, which will cover a major shake-up in the lives of our characters. So, strap on your seatbelts, and enjoy!

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

"You two need to leave."

Her voice was hollow and emotionless, causing him to pause in the doorway.

Wilson didn't think she noticed his presence just inside the door, but the distracted glances sent his way told him House and Cameron did. He didn't fully realize the cause of Cameron's distress and House's wide eyes until Sairah turned to him. Her panic-filled eyes, pale features, and harsh breathing stood out in sharp contrast to her rigid posture and dull voice, and Wilson turned to House and raised his eyebrow.

She was looking at him, theoretically speaking, but the tiny hairs on the back of Wilson's neck stood on end as he realized that she still wasn't alerted to his presence.

It was almost as if she was looking through me.

The door creaked open as Foreman and Thirteen came in, and Wilson could pinpoint the exact moment that she realized she had more visitors, because her head whipped around to look at the door.

"Do you three need a special request?" The voice now had a familiar hard edge to it that sounded equally unfamiliar coming out of Sairah's mouth.

"Where have I heard that voice before?" mused House, and Wilson almost smiled before Sairah turned around to look at him.

Whirled, more like.

She pointed to the door, and stared at every one in turn.

"I won't ask again." Her voice was low and she slowly spoke each word, as if to make sure that they all understood.

Not surprisingly, Cameron was the first to get up, and make short work of silently ushering them out of the door.

Surprisingly, though, once they got out, Cameron opened the door to the adjoining conference room that was still in construction. House, grinning, waved a hand towards the door, grin becoming a smirk as Foreman looked affronted at the thought of eavesdropping. Foreman turned around to leave, but Thirteen shrugged and walked in, and after a moment's contemplation, so did Wilson. Cameron had hung back near the door, and House rewarded her with a grin as she closed the door. He whispered to her, and she whispered back, and they smiled at each other.

It was turning out to be an eventful day.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

"I corrupted you," House declared quietly, smiling at Cameron. She snorted, turning from the door.

"Don't flatter yourself," she replied, and graced him with a smile of her own, along with an eye roll. They walked over to the windows that were parallel to the bay window on the side of Sairah's office, although the cluster of armchairs and the sofa obscured the view. House hoped that the rooms weren't soundproofed, because if the person he thought was coming was coming, he wanted to listen in.

He turned around and got as close as possible to the window, much to Wilson's obvious chagrin, and stopped. She was fixing her hair by the reflection of the monitor, panic still painfully etched in her features. Taking deep breaths, she said something to herself. House was transfixed. He watched, slack-jawed, as she, for the second time in as many minutes, straightened to her full height, took a deep breath, and tipped her head up. A smile stole over his face as she sat back down, and moved her hands over her face and held them out in front of her, lips moving. She looked exactly like Alia did, minutes before an exam.

The smile faded as he saw the profile of her visitor in the open doorway. Sairah's expression was unreadable, and she remained seated.

The man stepped inside, looking around, and Sairah reclined in her chair, and smiled. Except that smile wasn't happy, at all. It was almost… predatory.

"Can I help you, sir? Are you lost?" House furrowed his brow. Is she fucking with him?

The man took two steps inside, and House marveled at how he had changed... and how much he hadn't. Brian Rost was a handsome man, aesthetically speaking, but his charm lacked sincerity and his personality lacked heart; that was still the same.

But, looking at the weary, lined face, House was suddenly reminded of the fact that he hadn't seen the man in fifteen years.

So much had changed. The hair that was once jet black was now streaked with gray, but still thick and shiny. Large, blue eyes and finely arched eyebrows were still as elegant as they were when he first met him almost thirty years ago. The lines around his mouth had ruined his charismatic smile, and deep trenches in his pale forehead spoke of years worth of frowning. Unlike himself, however, Brian had accumulated somewhat of a beer gut, although, knowing the man it was a scotch gut… a love of Maker's Mark was one of the few things they had in common.

House watched, entranced, as Brian thought of something to say to his daughter.

"I'm…"

"Oh, I know who you are. It's actually why I'm asking." Her accent became more pronounced, and her speech haughty, and House had no problem believing that she had attended Oxford for the better part of her educational career.

"Sai…"

"If you'll look at the door you just came through, you'll find that it has my full name on it," she said, voice sending shivers down House's spine. "I don't think we're ready for first names yet, never mind nicknames."

A tiny tendril of sympathy began to unfurl in the pit of House's stomach for the poor bastard. Brian simply exhaled, and examined his shoes, face tired, and weary.

"I'm here…" his voiced faded.

"Yes, I was wondering if you'd answer that question," she quipped, tone deceptively light. She leaned back in her chair, fingers steepled under her chin. "Dr. Brian Rost. Superstar of the mental health world. Psychiatrist extraordinaire. Whisperer to the schizophrenics." The last part was said with emphasis. Beside him, Wilson inhaled sharply.

"You never told me Brian meant Brian Rost!" House shushed him.

"As if it makes a difference." He turned back to the window.

"… one wonders what business a physician of your… stature could possibly have with someone like me."

"I've come to make amends," he said. The smile on Sairah's face was feral.

"You should really deliver a lecture on time management, Dr. Rost," she started, and House could see Brian's flinch at her form of address. "It would inspire us to hear about how you find time to practice medicine, and stand-up." A hollow laugh escaped her clenched jaw. "Make amends… good grief. You know that's going to make the rounds at Thursday night cocktails."

"Ouch," Wilson remarked from his side. House agreed.

"You're not making this easy for me," the man replied, and House winced at the sound of cold, malicious laughter that thickened the air.

"That's rich. I'm not making this easy for you. Well, I have to say, Dr. Rost, once you've opened the dam, you have to suffer the consequences." She raised an eyebrow. "I can't stop it, now."

"I'm sorry for being the cause of your bitterness."

"It's at least a start, don't you think?" She asked, tone conversational, as she began to tick items off on her fingers. "That's bitterness accounted for. There's still grief, anger, frustration, depression, and a lifetime's worth of emotions and feelings that I'm going to have to use adjectives and verbs to describe." She leaned forward, and House got the feeling that she was just getting started. "Then again, maybe not… abandonment is a noun, isn't it?"

It was as if the air in the room was suddenly gone, and House had to struggle to breathe. He suspected his old friend suffered from the same problem.

"I tried my best…" Brian almost wheezed, "to be a good father, a good hus…"

"People," she started, and the low whistle from his side confirmed that the fury in her voice wasn't imaginary, "who try their best, do not abandon their family. They make an effort. They are there for the people who need them. They do not move a perfectly well-adjusted family to England…"

"But…"

"Oh, no, Dr. Rost. I don't blame you; you had to do what you had to do, right?" She braced her hands on her desk and leaned forward. "It would have only been a distraction, wouldn't it, if you had concerned yourself with the fact that your wife was exhibiting the same symptoms you dedicated your career to studying?" She tutted, and it was as if the wheels had stopped turning in House's head. He listened, numb, and let the voice filter through his brain unprocessed. "No, that wouldn't have done. Not at all. You had your patients, you had your hospital, you had your trials, and it took a lot of hard work to get to where you are, I'll give you that. You had more than enough important things to attend to."

"I asked you to come back with me…"

"You asked me to abandon my mother!" She almost spat the words. "You asked me to leave a frightened, vulnerable, sick woman alone! Tell me, Dr. Rost, were you that oblivious to your home life, or did you just decide that it wasn't worth your time? It wasn't even worth your time to get her committed, was it?"

House's brows furrowed in confusion. The wheels had definitely resumed turning, although he couldn't even consider the myriad of implications made in that monologue; he was more preoccupied with the fact that the giant, gaping, hole in his knowledge of his goddaughter's life was about to be filled.

"You don't understand…" he began, and he looked like he regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.

"Oh, but I do. I did, much before the first time. But I notice everything, it comes with being a child prodigy…"

She was interrupted by a soft, "So you did go to medical school." Sairah looked like she wanted to laugh and cry at the same time and viscous confusion swirled thick in House's gut. He wasn't…?

"The fact that the name on the door precedes the letters M and D, and the fact that you are standing in a hospital should have clued you in."

"I'm…"

"What you are, Dr. Rost, is a spectacular coward. A spineless, self-centered, coward. You lost any and all… forget love… respect, admiration, or affection that I had for you the morning after the first time, when you patted my head, and told me to be good for Mommy before leaving me alone."

She seemed to gain momentum.

"Never mind her, for a second. What about me? What about the fact that you knowingly, willingly, put my life in danger? What about the negligence? What about the fact that I spent the last fifteen years alone?" The last word was almost whispered.

Brian's face twisted.

"I'm so sorry." House watched, absorbed, as she stood up, straightened to her full height, took a deep breath, and tipped her head up.

"If you're coming here seeking forgiveness, absolution, then you're going to be disappointed. I owe you nothing."

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

It was not as if a huge weight had been lifted; on the contrary… her ears were buzzing, and her furiously palpitating heart was threatening to jump out of her chest and ruin her façade of composure. Just as she uttered those words, she watched his face twist with what she'd like to think was remorse. She wasn't happy. She had dreams and nightmares about coming face to face with him, but it didn't give her any pleasure to say all that she said. All that she felt at that moment was an all-consuming, black, sadness at the sight of him. At the state of their relationship.

Sairah exhaled slowly, face carefully blank, as she heard the approaching clack, clack, clack of what was undoubtedly the sound her boss's shoes made against the linoleum floor.

Dr. Cuddy swooped in, and slightly taken aback, smiled at her visitor.

"There you are, Brian, I thought I lost you. Dr. Khan, I didn't know you knew Dr. Rost;" she told her, "he's here to tour the university and discuss an adjunct position in the medical school."

Sairah took a deep breath.

"No, we don't know each other terribly well." Her stomach contracted with a twinge of regret at the expression on his face, but was soon replaced with a renewed anger.

"Not as well as one should know the man whose name adorns one's birth certificate." Her voice was flat, and she took twisted pleasure in timing how long her boss took to figure it out.

"Oh," she breathed. "I'll just wait outside, then." Sairah looked at her father, and smiled. It was her professional smile, one that pregnant women and small infants were routinely graced with.

"That's not necessary, Dr. Cuddy," she intoned. "I think we're done here." Cuddy looked shocked, but went to wait outside anyway.

"I deserved that," Brian suddenly spoke. "I deserved all of it, and I deserve even more. I know that." His gaze suddenly shifted from his shoes to his only child's face. "You think I'm a cold-hearted bastard, and I probably am. But no matter what happened, what you think, what I did, what your last name is, I will always be your father, and I will always love you."

He started walking out, but he stopped and turned around.

"You're wrong, you know. I didn't come here for forgiveness. I came here to tour the university. I heard your name in the hallway, and all I could think about was how long it had been, and how much I missed my daughter…" She cut him off again.

"Those are just words, do you realize? Just, meaningless words. You didn't care enough to come to the hospital to see your daughter born. You weren't there for most of my life, anyway. You love me." She scoffed quietly. "That doesn't accomplish anything. It didn't do me any good when I was a scared twelve-year-old with an unpredictable mother. That year and a half you stayed with us in London didn't do me any good… and stayed is a nice way of putting it… fifteen minutes of face time a day didn't do me any good. It didn't do me any good when I was alone in a hostel for the better part of my life." She walked around the desk. "It still doesn't do me any good," she said, words barely a whisper.

"And after everything, she was still the better parent. There were still some good times," she finished, expression haunted.

"I should go," Brain announced with wide eyes, looking as if somebody had startled him. She found herself nodding.

He turned around to leave, and stopped when she started to speak again.

"I didn't do it out of spite."

He faced her, and she continued.

"I didn't do it out of spite. I gave up ever finding Greg again, and Lucknow was the first place that offered me any real comfort. Dadajan offered to pay for Oxford, to pay the…" she faltered. "To pay the other bills, and he was extraordinarily kind, considering that I was the offspring of the daughter he disowned." She swallowed heavily. "The summer after you left, I found his number in Mum's old notebook and called him. We were on a plane within a week. I insisted that I stay in London… that we stay in London. I still missed the States, but I don't think I could have withstood going back like that. I saw myself in them. I saw myself as a Khan. I didn't see myself as your daughter. And I wanted to separate myself from you, both professionally and personally." She laughed mirthlessly. "Okay, maybe it was out of spite, a bit. But I felt like a Khan. After two years in England, it was the first time I felt I belonged to something. To someone. Dr. Sairah Rost." She looked down. "It sounded strange."

"Good bye, Sairah." And with those words, her father slowly walked out of her office.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Cameron's mind was spinning. She barely noticed her young friend turning around and catching a glimpse of them through her window, but she did, and she elbowed House's side. Sairah looked like she could have been knocked over with a feather, and Cameron winced in sympathy, as she gripped the walls and made her way into the now occupied conference room.

Despite the obvious tension, Cameron cracked a smile when Wilson cautiously approached Sai, as if half-expecting her to collapse, but afraid to get too close if she wasn't. Cameron privately thought it wise, and almost automatically, turned her head to look towards her right.

House said nothing.

Sairah didn't look angry anymore. She just looked… tired. Sai opened her eyes and looked straight at House.

House stared back, and Cameron was suddenly reminded of the day Sairah Khan announced her presence in their lives.

Suddenly, something shifted in Sairah's eyes, and the blood drained from her previously flushed face. Her jaw dropped.

"You knew," she breathed.

House stiffened behind Cameron, still silent.

"You must have at least suspected." Gaining momentum, she let go of the wall and took two steps forward, swaying unsteadily.

"You suspected that something was wrong, didn't you. That's why you started sleeping on the sofa that summer. You knew!" Her voice rose.

"You knew, and you didn't think it was necessary to stop it? You could have taken me in, you could have saved me…" She faltered. "Why?"

House's words were equally quiet.

"It wasn't my place."

It was as if Sairah was punched in the gut. Her face crumpled, and the blood rushed back into her face.

"It wasn't your place," she dully repeated. Her lifeless voice made Cameron want to cringe. Nobody said anything for a long, uncomfortable moment.

The younger woman snapped out of her trance.

"No. No, no. Of course. You're right." Wilson gaped, Thirteen's jaw dropped, and House stared on, impassive. Cameron wasn't that surprised. "You're right," she repeated, tears glimmering in her rich brown eyes, and Cameron held her breath. "I was, am just your friend's daughter. We're not even related…why would you even…?"

She took a deep breath, and straightened to her full height, which Cameron suspected, was something of a defense mechanism.

"I'll just get out of your hair, then." The resigned finality in her voice made Cameron's heart ache for the pair of them, and she watched, unable to move, as her friend, still unsteady, disappeared down the hall.

House stood stock still behind her. Wilson was trying to get him to go back to his office, or better yet, go home, and the soft pleas were falling on deaf ears, as House suddenly grabbed his cane from where it hung from the molding and proceeded, in a worryingly slow pace, in the opposite direction. Wilson, glancing at Cameron, hurried after him. Thirteen just shook her head and took off in the same direction that Sairah did.

Cameron stayed in the dark conference room, and it was a good five minutes before she did anything. Seating herself on one of the dark green chairs, she pulled out her cell phone.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000