On Sunday morning, after a restful night's sleep, House felt better than he had the day before. He still had his usual morning soreness and stiffness, which happened pretty much every morning, but a hot shower helped and then his leg was back to its typical status, which was the best he could expect. He dressed and went downstairs to find Andy and Blythe already up and making breakfast together. She was just finishing mixing batter in a large bowl, and a waffle iron sat on the counter, heated up and ready for use. Her homemade waffles had always been one of Greg's favorites, and he smiled at the sight of her doing this. Andy was busy at the stove tending to some sausage links, which filled the kitchen with a wonderful aroma. They seemed very much at ease with each other, and House's first thought on seeing them was that they were acting like an old married couple. He wondered again what might have happened between them the night before.

"Morning, honey," Blythe said, stopping her food prep for a moment to approach him for a kiss. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes. That's a very comfortable bed, Andy."

"We wanted to make it a relaxing guestroom for when relatives came to visit, and Colleen's old bed had seen better days, so the new one's only a few years old."

House stuck his right index finger into the batter and licked it off with a loud smack, as his mother gave him a look of mock exasperation. "What possessed you to make these?" he asked her.

"I know you've always loved them," she said, "and I wanted to do something special for breakfast."

"It's an unexpected treat. Thanks, Mom."

"How long do you think you'll be staying, Greg?" she asked. "I mean, even though my flight is this evening, you could stay an extra day if you think you need to."

"I don't think that's necessary," he said. "I'm feeling much better today and should be okay to drive home. I'll probably leave in the early afternoon."

"I just don't want you to have the same problem again," she said.

"Well, that's always a risk, but I'll stop more often this time. And, if I have to, I can switch to driving with my left leg for part of the trip. That'll help."

"You did that for quite a while in the beginning, after your surgery, didn't you? It always looked very awkward and uncomfortable to me," Blythe said.

He shrugged. "I got used to it. It's not that hard, really."

Andy came over to Blythe and put an arm around her waist. "I wish both of you could stay longer," he said, looking at her affectionately.

"So do I," she said. "But we'll make it a priority to come back soon. Right, Greg?"

"Sure. Or maybe when you're feeling up to it, you can fly down and visit me in Princeton," House said to Andy.

"I'd like that," Andy said. "Haven't been back to Jersey in quite a while, and I don't think I've been to Princeton since we played them in football when I was at Rutgers, which of course was ages ago."

"It's a beautiful campus, and a charming old town," Blythe said.

"Yeah, it is. I'm so used to it, I don't always appreciate it, but some of those old stone buildings are really amazing works of art," House said. "I don't have a place for either of you to stay, though. It's just a one-bedroom condo," House said.

"Oh, that's no problem," Andy said. "We could get a hotel room."

"We?" House asked.

"Yes, your mother and I – I mean, if we both visit at the same time," Andy said, somewhat sheepishly.

"One hotel room?" House asked, with a teasing glint in his eye.

"That's for us to know and you to wonder about," Blythe said.

"I don't think there's much to wonder about," House said. "You two are getting along very well, aren't you?"

Andy visibly blushed, and Blythe asked, "Is there some reason you don't want us to?"

"Oh no," House answered. "More power to you. Just be sure you're careful, you know? Wouldn't want to see either of you wind up in the emergency room."

Blythe laughed at him as she started putting food on the table and then added more batter to the waffle iron. "Let's eat," she said, "and change the subject."

When they were finished with breakfast and its cleanup, Andy mentioned that he had some "family artifacts" he wanted Greg to see. He opened a closet in the hallway and pulled out a long, large canvas bag, taking it into the living room and placing it on the floor next to the couch.

"Come here, both of you," he said.

"That looks heavy," House said. "What's in there?"

"Some family relics I thought you'd be interested in seeing. These were my father's, passed down from his father, who brought them from Scotland when his family emigrated."

The first thing he pulled out was a small tartan wrap, followed by a child-sized kilt, both in the same plaid. It was a pattern with deep blue and green blocks, intersected with black, yellow and red stripes.

"This is the tartan of clan MacLaren, and these go back to my grandfather's childhood."

House fingered the old wool and asked, "When was he born?"

"1881. They came to New York when he was fifteen, in 1896."

"What was his name?"

"Calum Andrew MacLaren. My brother and I called him Grandpa Cal. He was a funny fellow."

"Funny how – you mean humorous, or strange?" House asked.

"Humorous. He loved to tell amusing stories about people in the old country and to sing Scottish songs. He had a wonderful singing voice."

"Did your father ever wear these as a child?" Blythe asked.

"He said they sometimes used to put them on him to take pictures, and I've seen a few of those. He looked a little uncomfortable in the kilt, but he was an American-born kid, after all."

"I don't think you've ever told me his full name, either," House said.

"It was Gordon Neill MacLaren. He was born in 1911 and died in '96, at the age of 85."

"So, he lived a long life. What did he finally die of?" House asked.

"Heart attack. He was lucky, really. I don't remember him having any major health problems throughout his life, and the heart problems only started a few months before his death."

"Did your mother outlive him?" House asked.

"Yes, but only by a couple of years. She kind of gave up, I think. Colleen always says she thinks her Grandma Jane died of a broken heart."

"Well, that might've had something to do with it, but I'd be interested in knowing what her medical condition actually was," House said.

"It was blood clots in the legs. What is that called?"

"Deep vein thrombosis," House said.

"Right. DVT. That's what her doctor called it."

"One of the clots probably broke off and went to her lungs," House said.

"Yes, that's what happened."

"Is that hereditary, Greg?" Blythe asked.

"It can be, but I doubt my problem had any genetic component. DVTs aren't uncommon in older people, and my clot wasn't caused by a systemic syndrome – it was the result of an aneurysm and was an isolated event. What else is in the bag?" House asked.

"This is the real treasure," Andy said, pulling out a long black leather scabbard, and then slowly revealing an ancient sword inside, with a richly engraved handle.

"Is that a Claymore sword?" House asked. "I mean, a real Claymore sword?"

"Yes. Beautiful, isn't it? It's dated 1761."

"It's fabulous," House said. He ran his fingers over the handle, and peered intently at the engravings. "It must be worth a fortune. Ever seen Antiques Roadshow?"

"I'm not sure what it's worth, actually, but its monetary value never really interested me. I wouldn't sell it under any circumstances. It's always been in our family, and now, well, I'd like you to have it, Greg."

"Me? Are you kidding? No – it should go to Colleen or her kids eventually."

"I asked her about it. She wants you to have it too."

"Why?"

"When my grandfather gave it to my father, he said it was a symbol of bravery, and should be passed down to a family member in each generation who exhibited courage. My father got it because he was Cal's only son, and he served in World War II. My father gave it to me because my older brother had done some things that my parents didn't approve of, and they tended to see me as the model son who could do no wrong. They were also proud that I became a Marine and served in Vietnam. It caused a rift between me and my brother for a while, but he finally got over it and we reconciled."

"So why me? I've never gone to war or done anything especially brave."

"Yes, you have. You've had to deal with a lot of difficult things in your life. You've bravely handled living with a disability for a long time, and have used your amazing intellect to save lives as a doctor. I want you to have this, Greg, because you're one of the bravest people I've ever met."

House didn't know what to say, and just stared at Andy with an expression of shocked incredulity. Finally, Blythe spoke up.

"Andy, that's very generous of you. I'm … I'm speechless, really. It's wonderful that you want Greg to have this."

Suddenly House remembered the other sword - John's sword. He remembered pulling it down from the closet shelf all those months ago, and how the sight of it had triggered such different emotions from those he was feeling now. That sword reminded him of the anger, resentment, and fear John instilled in him, and those memories had spurred him to contact his mother and to find Andy. And now, here was another relic of the past, a treasure his blood father felt he deserved, just for being who he was, who he couldn't help being. He was overcome with emotion for a moment, and lowered his face, putting his hands over his eyes.

"What's wrong, Greg?" Blythe asked. "What are you thinking?"

He slowly regained his composure and looked at his mother. "I was just remembering – you know the sword I took after Dad died?"

"Yes. What about it?"

"He never would've willingly given that to me. He never even let me touch it. I only have it because he died and you asked me what I wanted. I never told you this, Mom, but that sword is the reason we're here today."

"What do you mean, honey?" she asked.

"Back before Christmas, I came across it in my closet, and that's the reason I called you and started asking all these questions. I wanted to know who my real father was, so I could move past the bad memories of Dad."

"Oh, Greg," Blythe said, starting to tear up.

Andy ran his hand back and forth across Blythe's back for several moments, and then said, "Greg, whatever it took to get you here, I'm glad it happened. I'd glad it brought you to me, and that it brought your mother to me. And I want you to have this. It belongs to you now."

"Thank you," House said, taking the sword from Andy's outstretched hands. "But there's something I want you to know. No matter what, I'll be sure to keep it in the family. I'll leave it to Colleen or to one of her children in my will."

"That's up to you, Greg."

"I'll do it. You can count on it."

"I'm sure she'd appreciate that, but the decision is yours."

House slid the sword back into its sheath and ran his hand over the old leather.

"When you look at this, and I hope you do often, remember why I gave it to you, Greg," Andy said. "Despite your mistakes, which I know you tend to dwell on, you're still a good person, a courageous person. That's how I want you to think of yourself."

"I wish I'd known you when I was growing up, Andy."

"So do I. But we know each other now, and that's a gift."

House nodded, and then simply said, "That it is."