The final session convened that evening in the living room after the girls were in bed, and Jensen took a firm grip on it at the start. "This is the last talk we're going to be having," he stated, a fact and not a suggestion. "You've both had just about enough of this, and it would make things worse to push too far." Cuddy immediately looked relieved. House looked unconvinced but reluctantly cooperative, at least at the moment.

It was Blythe, as he'd expected, who protested immediately. "But we haven't talked about everything yet."

"Mrs. House, if we spent the next month doing this, we wouldn't get everything all settled and tied up with a bow. This is never going to be finished like you want. It will get better, but it isn't going to be all fixed and good as new. But pushing on past a certain point will make things worse, not better. It's time to quit for now. Think about how far you've come just yesterday and today, how much you've found out. There's lots of progress, and you've both got a lot of new information to process, too."

Blythe still looked reluctant. "I just wish . . ." She looked over at her son. "I'd do anything to fix things, Gregory."

Cuddy gritted her teeth but stayed silent. House sighed. "He's right, Mom; it isn't going to get fixed. But it is getting better."

Jensen stepped back in, his voice smooth and persuasive as always but his tone firm. "So we're down to final questions now. Just a little longer, and that's it for this visit, at least for the serious talks. You can finish up tomorrow with a pure family fun day before your flight out on Thursday morning. So for the last questions, is there anything else either of you really want to know now instead of months down the road next time we do this?"

Both of them jumped in simultaneously, resulting in a conversational collision. Blythe yielded after a moment, and House stubbornly repeated his question. "You really never noticed anything? Never wondered at all if more was going on?"

Blythe looked down for a minute, then back up at him, chin quivering slightly but her gaze steady. "No," she admitted. As mad as she was, Cuddy also felt a little grudging admiration. Yes, Blythe had been a lousy excuse for a mother, but to sit here on the couch and have these conversations, facing her son and her failure, took its own form of bravery. She was naive in many ways, but she couldn't have expected these sessions to be easy. She had been in therapy for almost three years herself, and her psychiatrist's notes made it clear that she realized how completely she had failed her son. A pure coward simply would have stayed in Kentucky this Christmas and manufactured an excuse. "I thought it was just you being a strong-willed child and John's military idea of discipline. But I swear, Greg, I never knew what was going on. I would have done something. I would have taken you and left."

House impatiently pushed the declaration aside. "No, I mean earlier. When he was acting happy, before he realized I wasn't his son. Before I was three. You never saw the front slip? Not even once?"

Blythe was puzzled now. "But that was the good part. Why would you wonder about that?"

"Just answer the damn question."

"No, Greg. It wasn't a front; he really was happy."

House looked at the far wall, his mind spinning around that. The love was still as difficult to accept after the fact as the abuse. Those reawakened memories had been hard for him to handle the last few months. He sat there in thought, one hand in Cuddy's, the other absentmindedly stroking Belle in his lap. Jensen picked up the questioning after a few seconds of silence.

"Mrs. House, you said you saw John get angry a few times, that you knew he had a temper. How often did you see that? I'm not limiting it to the first couple of years. Overall, how often did you see him truly mad?"

She took a moment to think about it. "Not often. Probably only five or six times."

"Over your marriage? My childhood?" House asked.

"Over the whole marriage, Greg. He didn't lose it often. And like I said, never once with a person that I saw. Always with a thing."

"It happened more often than that," House said. "Actually, I guess that wasn't him being out of control. I saw him too controlled. Even destroying things, even making me break things, it was always systematic. Did you ever wonder what happened with the gifts?"

Blythe looked blank. "The gifts? You mean the things you . . ." She skidded to a stop, horrified. "He made you break those things? It wasn't. . ."

House nodded. "I wasn't just a clumsy walking accident. That was what he made me tell you. He would have me break them. Anything I gave you. Anything I valued that you gave me. The first thing was that Marine teddy bear that I got at my second birthday. Very early then, he wasn't having me break things yet. But he took it one day when I was three and said he'd punish me if I cried. He took it off with him and said that I didn't deserve a Marine bear, that I'd have to earn it, and someday, if I ever toughened up enough to earn it, I could have it back." He shuddered. "Of course, I never got it back."

"He told me you lost it. And then that you'd decided you were too much of a big boy to sleep with a bear."

"He lied," House snapped. "Anything he told you was probably a lie. Anything you think was an accident probably wasn't."

"But that night with the lamp on my birthday - I know you knocked that off, Greg. It was fine when we left home to go out to dinner. John wasn't even there when it broke."

House tensed up even more. "You don't have to answer that one, Greg," Cuddy suggested.

"Oh, she has to hear about that. One of the rare occasions where I hit the daily double - both of my parents standing right there missing what was going on that moment under their noses while John was just laughing silently. I did knock the damned lamp off because I had gone to the bathroom, but that's when he called, and whenever he called to check when you left me home, I had to pick it up on the first ring. I was racing back, and my wrist was still stiff from being in the cast, and I knocked the lamp off, and it broke. If you had been five more minutes getting home, I would have had it fixed. Couldn't you have had dessert or something? And then you jumped right in before I even had to lie, and you told Thornton yourself what a clumsy idiot I was, always doing stuff like that, and he bought it, too, lock, stock, and barrel. It was all right there in front of you both, and you didn't see it."

"That's enough," Jensen said. "All right, we're stopping."

"Not yet," House protested. "Just one more question. There's something I have always been dying to ask you, and no time like the present. How could you possibly ask me to give his eulogy? Even if you didn't know what was going on, you knew there was tension there."

Blythe looked guilty. "I really thought it would help close things, dear, but actually, that was John's idea."

House stared. "That was John's idea?"

"When he got sick, he bought one of those prepaid funeral things. He even got us a double deal at the same time, and he was planning everything just like he wanted, from the service to the big tombstone. He wanted you to give his eulogy."

House was quivering in suppressed rage now. The final insult, worse for being delivered by proxy, John laughing from beyond the grave. He wanted to dig the bastard up and kill him again, bare handed, like his non-grandfather had tried with the commander of the Japanese prison camp. "We need to stop," Jensen repeated firmly. He stood up. "We'll do this again maybe in six months, but that's as far as we need to go now."

Blythe didn't even look at him. "I'm so . . . I apologize, Greg. I didn't know what he meant by it. I thought he really did want peace finally, and that's why I asked you to come give it. I didn't realize . . ." She started crying.

"No, you asked Wilson to bring me, and he and Lisa drugged and kidnapped me and hauled me down there,"

Cuddy, who had been trying to divert her husband's attention, lost control totally herself in her own surge of guilt. She rocketed off the couch to her feet and nearly collided with Jensen, who was just about to physically insert himself between the two. They did make an effective double barrier, and House stared at both of them as if just now remembering they were in the room. Blythe was still crying but also glaring at Cuddy. "You drugged and kidnapped him? How could you do a thing like that?"

"How could I do a thing like that? Because I didn't know yet, and it's not like I had 18 years of constant first-hand observation while it was happening, either, unlike some of the rest of us here."

"STOP IT!" None of them had ever heard Jensen's voice truly raised before. Action froze as if a referee's whistle had blown, and the other three stared at him. "This session and all other sessions for this visit are over. That is enough. We're tearing things up now instead of helping." The psychiatrist looked from one to the other of them, including Cuddy in his gaze. "All of you agreed to the rules up front. We aren't going to talk anymore about the past. Period." He waited for a moment, almost daring them to protest. Nobody spoke. "Sit down," he said. Cuddy sat back down. The other two had never gotten up, but they were watching Jensen now, not each other. Blythe was still crying softly. Jensen stood there for a moment, then went back to the recliner and sat down himself. "We're just going to have a nice, pleasant evening together - or separately, if required - for the rest of it. Okay?"

"I'm sorry," Cuddy said after a moment, throwing it into the room in general, though she meant it for the psychiatrist and her husband. House, the tension thawing just a little bit, leaned over to kiss her. She could still feel him trembling slightly beneath her hands. She snuggled up closer to him, and the living room was silent for a few minutes other than Blythe's decreasing tears. She finally stopped crying. The whole group collectively seemed to be starting to breathe again.

"What are you going to do tomorrow?" Jensen asked finally. A perfectly polite, casual comment. The previous scene might never have happened.

"Something with the girls," Blythe suggested tentatively. "Why don't we all go to the mall? Good after Christmas sales, interesting people for you to watch, Greg."

"That sounds good, although the girls can't take it too long," Cuddy said. House couldn't take it too long, the walking, but he would enjoy the people watching, and the girls would enjoy the activity and excitement. Rachel loved Build-a-Bear.

"Breakfast at IHOP first?" House suggested.

Blythe smiled. "I know the girls will enjoy that."

"Not just the girls," Cuddy said, trying hard. One nice family day, and the visit was over. "But first," she said, "we'll all sleep late."

House snorted. "You are incapable of sleeping late. The world would end without yoga at 5:00."

"Well tomorrow, we'll find out. I won't even set the clock. We'll all sleep in, at least as long as the girls will allow, and then once they wake up, we'll go to IHOP and then to the mall."

Slowly, the conversation became less stiff. Cuddy got them all some herbal tea after a while, and House at her request played the piano. No serenade tonight, mostly quiet blues. The music relaxed him as usual, but he was also looking more and more tired to her eyes. Jensen got up eventually to go into the room where he was staying and call Melissa and Cathy - also giving the atmosphere a trial without him there, not that he came out and said so, but House thought it was obvious.

The psychiatrist was looking a bit worried as he came back out some time later. House looked up from the piano, tilting his head and studying the other man closely. "What's wrong?" he asked. The music never faltered, but there was definite veiled concern, not just interest, behind his tone.

Jensen sat back down in the recliner. "Probably not much. Melissa just sounds a little off tonight."

"Maybe she's missing you," Blythe suggested.

"I mean physically. Not that she said so, but she didn't quite seem like herself to me. She's probably coming down with a sinus infection - she gets them a couple of times each winter, usually after a big weather shift. It's been a lot colder since last Friday. If she seems worse tomorrow, I'll suggest she call for antibiotics if she doesn't decide that herself."

"Honey," Cuddy stated firmly. "Herbal tea and honey. Great combination."

"And an even better one with antibiotics," House noted, still playing. "Why don't you drive on home tonight? Not like we're going to be doing anything else shrinkish here anyway."

Jensen hesitated, clearly tempted but also not 100% convinced of the status here. He looked from House to Blythe and back to Cuddy.

House rolled his eyes. "You want to come to IHOP with us tomorrow? Seriously, go on home. You can have three days of your week off with your family instead of two."

"Go ahead," Blythe encouraged him.

The psychiatrist sighed. "Promise me that you won't discuss the past anymore. The rest of this visit is pure family time."

"I promise," Blythe said immediately, with Cuddy as a delayed echo. Jensen looked at House.

"Go on already," House said. "We've already done Christmas weekend all together without you, and it went fine." He didn't look rebellious. In fact, he looked exhausted, drooping a little at the keyboard now that the adrenaline was wearing off.

"Okay." Jensen yielded. "I would like to check on her in person, not just by phone." He retreated to the guest room, returning in a few minutes with his suitcase in one hand and the CD of Timothy Thornton in the other. He planned to listen to it on the drive home. "Good night, everyone, and don't do anything serious tomorrow."

"We won't," Blythe promised. "And thank you for this, Dr. Jensen. I do think it helped. Maybe we can have another round in six months."

"Thanks," House said awkwardly. He was still playing.

Jensen looked back at Cuddy. She was watching her husband, and then she turned to face him and gave him a reassuring smile. "Thank you. Tell your family thanks for us, too."

"I will." Jensen left, and she locked the door after him. House yawned at the piano, and Blythe looked over at him affectionately.

"Sleeping in sounds good to me, too," she said. "I'm kind of tired." House looked beyond kind of tired. "Lisa, were you two going to use your hot tub tonight? I've been meaning to try it. Nice relaxing soak, and then I'm going to bed."

Cuddy looked at House. "No, not tonight. You can have it, Blythe. I think we'll just go to bed early. I'm worn out myself."

House finished his current meandering melody and stiffly stood up. "Go ahead, Mom."

She hugged him as he limped slowly past her, and he rolled his eyes but stood for it with a martyred expression. "Good night, Greg."

"Night, Mom." He limped on to the bedroom, trailed by his white shadow, and Cuddy began collecting teacups as Blythe went into the main bathroom to start her soak.

(H/C)

The hall seemed to lengthen as House walked down it, but he finally made the bedroom door. He entered, carefully checking for Belle, but she scooted through promptly, right on his heels. He shut the door. No doubt Cuddy would have to obsessively tidy up a little first. By the time House got changed into sleep clothes, he felt like he had just run a marathon, a feeling he did remember from many years ago. He lay down on the bed, and the mattress seemed to pull him down into it. Maybe Jensen had a point. At the moment, he didn't feel capable of going on, whether they were finished with the past or not. He closed his eyes, then opened them again as whiskers tickled his chin. Belle had walked up his stomach and chest and was now sniffing his face with concern, nearly eye to eye with him. "I'm fine," he informed her. He let his eyes drift back shut.

He was almost asleep by the time Cuddy entered the bedroom. "Greg?" She touched his cheek softly. She had talented hands herself, he thought.

"Mmm?"

"Were you planning to sleep on top of the covers all night?"

"I wasn't sleeping. Waiting for you."

"Well, I'm here now. Hadn't you better move?"

He didn't want to move. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and shifted off the bed long enough for her to turn it down. He climbed back in, and she helped lift his leg up carefully and get it in a comfortable position. Her hands were searching it, seeking cramps. There weren't any at the moment. It just hurt. "Have you had your meds yet?" she asked.

"No." That meant moving again.

She gave his shoulder a pat. "I'll get you a glass of water. Just a minute." She returned and sorted the doses out herself, and he finally opened his eyes again long enough to take the pills - and to see the worry in hers.

"I'm okay," he reassured her. "Just tired."

"Gee, I wonder why." She took the glass back from him, set it down on the nightstand, and then a few minutes later climbed in under the covers next to him and turned off the light. They slid together like magnets. "I didn't set the alarm clock."

"You'll wake up anyway," he mumbled drowsily.

"If I do, I won't do yoga," she promised. "I'll just lie here and watch you."

Part of him was amazed that she still wanted to, that she wasn't tired of him yet. Another part was too tired to dissect the thought tonight. She was warm and reassuring right next to him, and Belle was on his leg, kneading softly, her purr audible in the room. The last thing he heard was Cuddy's voice. "I'm proud of you." His fingers flexed, tightening on hers, and he let himself drop down the tunnel of sleep.