A/N: The next week, this weekend through next, is going to be quite busy. For one thing, work has to pick up at some point after Thanksgiving. I hope. I do, in theory, have a full-time job, even if it's been hit and miss the last two weeks. For another, this next week is the Christmas music season rush hour, and between now and the 9th, I have three group concerts (two of those on the same day) and am singing once alone. Plus rehearsals, dress rehearsals, etc. I will do my best to get at least the next chapter up during the next week, because that's the one where Thornton re-enters things, but if you don't get anything else, or don't even get that one, just remember patience is a virtue. :) This story isn't going anywhere; it's all worked out mentally and is one of my top favorites in the series. But for the next week, it's going to take a back seat to music.

Thanks for the reviews. They are virtual pay to the author.

Enjoy chapter 11.

(H/C)

Cuddy woke up at 5:03 with a guilty surge of being late. She looked at the clock, then remembered that they were all sleeping in today. Settling back against the pillow, she tried to switch off her body's alarm clock, but it didn't seem to have a snooze function. Falling back on her non-yoga plans, she rolled onto her side and looked at her husband. Moonlight reflecting off the snow spilled through the window; a fine, clear, cold night. The whole city, like the house, seemed quiet right now, asleep itself.

It had been a fairly peaceful night. She had been up once with the girls, but aside from that, the only thing requiring her attention in the night was that Blythe had left the main bathroom light on when she left after her soak. Grumbling appropriate things under her breath - couldn't the woman do anything correctly? - Cuddy had switched it off after dealing with the girls, then headed back to bed, promising herself that one more day would fulfill their dose of Blythe in person until the summer, hopefully. She could last one more day.

Now, she lay there watching House and replaying the conversations over the last few days. She was still angry at Blythe, but she reminded herself firmly that they had to have peace today. Jensen was trusting their word, for one thing, and the psychiatrist had done so much for them that she didn't want to let him down. House's face, now unguarded in sleep, was an even greater motivation. She could see the stresses of this visit, could almost trace each new revelation. His sleep, too, wasn't quite sound, even if it also wasn't quite nightmares. He had had enough of this, probably even more than enough, and it was indeed time to stop. Cuddy vowed to have a nice family day today with Blythe even if the self-control required promised to more than replace yoga as her exercise for today.

So John had thought up the eulogy idea. So typical of the bastard; she couldn't believe she had never considered that option. Many people prearranged their funerals, after all, and John, dying of cancer, had known for several months that he was on the way out. She pictured his sadistic smile as he wrote up his funeral service, and she wished again that he weren't dead just so she could have the pleasure herself. As always when thinking about the funeral, her own guilt was also still there. She had apologized profusely, and House had forgiven her long since, but it still had been wrong. With or without knowledge of his past, she and Wilson had had no right to force him to attend.

House shifted, falling into another dream, and she took his hand in hers, holding it tightly and stroking his face with the other until he settled down under her touch. She traced each stress and pain line lovingly, longing to remove them even while appreciating in a way the hard-fought victories they represented. He had survived it, had overcome incredible obstacles, and life was good now. Eventually, she moved beyond them, just admiring him. The incomparable eyes, now closed, which left her free to remember all of their moods in turn. The strength of character in every line of his chiseled face. His musician's hands. His grandfather's hands.

That made her think of Thornton again. Maybe next Christmas, she promised. She would love to get him here and let House see the girls reacting to him. She was sure the girls would love Thornton. The last few days had confirmed beyond any doubt, not that she'd had one, where House got his intelligence and insight.

Yet Blythe was his mother, and he would always love her. There was John's threat, of course, flipping the responsibility of protection onto him, but he loved Blythe for herself, too. Love never had completely made sense, after all. Besides, she understood parts of it. He had told Cuddy a few times that Blythe had been there, the only even occasionally positive aspect of his childhood. With her, he could sometimes pretend things were different. Cuddy could see how even an occasional, imperfect oasis would be a priceless treasure if it was the only respite you had.

House shifted again, less dreams and more his leg starting to wake up and press on his mind, and Cuddy looked at the clock, surprised that she had been watching him and thinking for nearly two hours. The sun was coming to life, but the house remained still, even the girls late this morning. Cuddy considered the possibilities of a true morning leg warm-up, then decided they didn't have time. Doing anything spontaneously in the morning was impossible. He always had to carefully coax his leg into compliance first after the night of immobility, and even with her help, it took a while. Better to postpone making love until tonight when there was less risk of the girls interrupting. They could make it a celebration, Christmas and the tough conversations afterwards over, life once again getting down to their happy family, or would at least as soon as Blythe was delivered to the airport tomorrow. She would go along herself, Cuddy decided, and simply be late to work. She wanted to make sure no further serious conversation occurred. House had had enough for now.

His face tightened up, and Belle shifted her hold atop him, getting a little more securely on his leg. Cuddy met the cat's golden eyes and smiled. Belle was such a part of the family unit herself, even if she did chase paper and sometimes scratch closed doors, and House loved her. Technically, she was Rachel's cat, but she was closest to House, and Cuddy almost got a feeling at times that there was feline understanding present in a way, that Belle appreciated some of the same qualities in him that she herself did.

Rachel. She was such an animal lover. Maybe she would be a veterinarian eventually, something along those lines. Jensen's stuffed purring kitten had been a big hit, and Thornton's horse had been an even bigger one. Cuddy was glad that Rachel seemed to be finding other interests besides the music that she simply wasn't gifted at.

Thornton.

House's eyelids flickered and opened, and he looked at her, adorably drowsy and rumpled at the moment. "You didn't get up."

"No. Haven't gone anywhere. I did wake up, but I've just been watching you." She leaned over to him.

Belle shifted off during the kiss and jumped down, heading into their bathroom where she had her own comfort station. Cuddy was careful not to put too much movement or pressure on his leg, but that took only a small part of her attention, and she was smiling as they finally broke apart. "Good morning," she said.

"Getting better all the time," he agreed. "Any sound from the others?"

"Not a peep. Everybody's taking that sleeping late thing seriously."

"Good." He craned his neck to see past her to the clock and did some mental math himself, coming reluctantly to the same conclusion she had.

"Probably not. The girls won't stay down much longer. I'm surprised they're not awake already. Not so surprised at your mother; she seems to like late mornings."

"Partly reaction, I think. John ran the house like the Marines. Nobody ever got to sleep in. She didn't really like mornings, but she was up with the rest of us. She probably enjoys it now as a change, a new luxury."

She hadn't considered that. Yes, even if John hadn't been abusive to her, he had been controlling and regimented to a fault, and Blythe was gradually coming out of the box she'd been stuffed in, enjoying new hobbies and pleasures during her retirement. House had mentioned once to Cuddy that Jensen thought that was why Blythe loved travel clubs, even though she had been all over the world during her marriage. Doing it without John was a vacation itself. House tightened up his grip on Cuddy's arm. "Hey. We're not supposed to do anything serious today. No bad thoughts."

"They weren't bad thoughts, just different thoughts. And you're the one who brought it up."

His blue eyes sparkled. "Sorry." The next few moments were interrupted by his leg, though, as he rolled a bit too far. Cuddy felt him flinch and immediately let go, sliding out of bed and going around to his side, reaching for the offended muscle. He sighed and lay back, letting her deal with it, enjoying her hands but annoyed at the specific need for them right now.

"Lisa?"

"What?"

"What were you thinking about right before I woke up?"

"I was just lying there admiring you," she told him, but he shook his head.

"No, not just then. You were running a differential on something. Let me guess: Thornton?"

Her hands never stopped working, tenderly waking up the muscle and working out the threatened cramps. "I was thinking about Rachel and how well he picked a gift for her."

"And wishing I'd invite him up here. Weren't you?"

She sighed. "It's up to you, Greg. I've told you that. I'll support you whatever you decide."

"But you wish I'd decide to let him be their grandfather," he persisted.

She finished her massage and sat down on the bed beside him, and he carefully started gentle range of motion exercises on his leg. She picked up his hand, playing with the fingers. "I understand being cautious," she said, going slowly, trying to pick the right words. "And I cannot imagine what your past was like. I don't blame you at all for being mad at him and wanting to be extra sure. But sometimes, I get the feeling that you almost think he's running for election, that you can vote him in or out of the position. He is their grandfather, Greg. No matter what you decide, whether he ever sees them or not. And yes, I'll support you in it, but you're not going to be able to keep him from being their grandfather. That was decided biologically already."

He looked away, the lines of his face harder suddenly. Belle jumped back onto the bed and walked up to brush against his free hand, positioning herself, and he absentmindedly scratched her ears. "We're not supposed to talk about serious things today," he reminded her.

She yielded for the moment. The seed was planted; time to leave it alone. "I'm sorry." She leaned over for a kiss, a less physically restricted one that time, and of course, that was when Rachel woke up. They parted laughing.

"I'll get them." She started for the door, leaving him the privacy he wanted to get out of bed and test his leg. His voice stopped her with her hand on the knob.

"We have a good family now," he said, very softly.

"Yes, we do." She was puzzled for a moment, then connected the dots. "You're afraid to do anything that might rock the boat, aren't you? Greg, it's not going to be taken away, no matter what happens with Thornton. We're not going anywhere."

"Mama?" Rachel was just outside the door now.

"Go on," House grumbled, dismissing the moment he himself had started.

Cuddy unlocked the door and opened it, going through quickly and closing it again, keeping Rachel's attention. House slowly, thoughtfully, got out of bed, testing his leg. "What are you looking at? Go get in your new box or something," he snarled at Belle, who was supervising the process closely, and she had the audacity to purr at him, ignoring his annoyed tone. Reassured that his leg wasn't about to collapse, he limped to their little bathroom. A few minutes later, when he was dressed, he exited the bedroom. Cuddy was just leaving the main bathroom with both girls in tow.

"Daddy!" Rachel charged at him, though she was careful to pick the good leg to attach herself to.

"Good morning!" He gave her a hug and then gave Abby one. "We're all going to IHOP for breakfast. Pancakes. How does that sound?"

"Yay!" Rachel galloped toward the front door, and Cuddy called her back.

"Rachel, we have to get dressed first. I'll get them dressed, Greg, and you can wake up your mother. I don't think we can postpone breakfast too much longer now that they're up."

"Okay." He picked up Abby for a squeeze and whispered, "Pancakes," in her ear as a promise. She giggled, and he set her back down on her feet. "Go on with Mama, Abby." The girls and Cuddy went back into the nursery, and House moved on down the hall to the first guest bedroom, tapping quietly on the door, then opening it. "Mom? Time to get up and go out for breakfast."

Blythe was still in bed with the covers pulled up tightly, her head turned away from him, and he walked across to give her shoulder a gentle shake. She didn't respond, lying absolutely, coldly still, and in the brief, eternal moment before he shouted for Cuddy, the only sound in the deathly quiet room was his own breathing.