A/N: Thank you to everyone who is reading this story. Anyone, including non-members and those wishing to remain anonymous can leave reviews. Special thanks to Cherokee Jedi for giving me an idea and then giving me the feedback I needed to work it into this chapter!

It was early Sunday evening and House had returned home for the first time all weekend. He'd spent all his time at the hospital with the team and the forty-five year old wife and mother whose acute porphyria might have been diagnosed sooner if Adams and Park had taken a better history and the patient would told them she'd been suffering from certain pertinent ailments since her childhood. It annoyed House to no end when patients, for whatever reason, did not disclose a complete medical history. It pissed him off even more when his team didn't do their job. There were moments he really missed Chase, Thirteen, Foreman and Cameron. Alas, despite the obstacles involved in solving the case, it was solved and that was all that mattered.

Sitting on the sofa, in his pajamas with a glass of scotch in hand and feet up on the coffee table, House closed his eyes and leaned his head back thinking about the events of the past week. Between therapy, cases, clinic, and lectures, the previous week passed rather quickly and he hadn't had much time alone. Maybe that was a good thing, he thought. It kept his mind off his leg pain and kept him from thinking about Vicodin. He'd been clean since leaving prison and he was determined to stay that way. While House enjoyed time alone, it seemed that since returning home, he didn't want to be alone as much as he did before. He found himself spending more time with Wilson and at the hospital. He laughed to himself as he thought about the fact that he might have actually changed. People don't change, he thought. That belief had been the basis of many arguments over the years and he shuddered to think that if he actually were changing, it might make him a hypocrite and if it was one thing he despised, it was hypocrisy. Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by the phone. He was so relaxed he contemplated not answering it, but he thought it might be the team so he picked up.

"House."

"Greg?"

"Hi Mom."

"Honey, how are you?"

"I'm good mom. This is a surprise."

"What? A mother can't call her favorite son?"

"Mom, I'm your only son."

"Oh Greg, how are you doing? I mean really doing?"

"Mom…" House sighed. He hadn't talked to his mother since the day he was released and even then they hadn't discussed anything about what happened. He was almost glad that he hadn't been the one to break the news to his mother that he'd been incarcerated. He'd been grateful that Wilson called her a few months after and told her what happened, though avoiding specific details, leaving that for House.

"Greg? Are you there?"

"Sorry mom. I'm…I'm good, just taking one day at a time."

"Greg, I think it's time we talked but I don't want to do it over the phone. I'd like to see you if you have time."

"Mom, I'm really busy and I don't want you having to interrupt your life for me."

"Greg, please, it's fine. Since your father…well I do what I want when I want and I really want to see you. It's important. You're my son and I miss you. Please Greg."

She didn't sound pleading, but House could tell his mother really missed him. House never could resist his mother. She'd always been good to him, protective, and nurturing. She was the only reason he stayed sane throughout his fucked up childhood. He owed it to her. "Okay mom, when were you thinking of coming here?"

The next day House limped into the hospital earlier than usual. As he picked up his messages at the nurse's station he took a peek over to Foreman's office hoping he was in there because it meant he wasn't roaming the hospital and that meant House wouldn't have to deal with him. Unfortunately, Foreman looked up just as House looked into his office. That prompted House to move as quickly as he could towards the elevators. Too late, Foreman was already at his side.

"House! I haven't seen you much lately."

"Well you do pay me to do a job."

"Yeah but I haven't had as many complaints as usual, which is very suspicious."

"What can I say? I'm trying to be a model employee."

"A bit late for that don't you think?"

"Is there a point to this taskmaster, because I've got a hooker waiting in my office for a little morning delight."

"You need to keep up with your clinic hours. You skipped a few last week."

"I was busy."

The elevator doors opened and House stepped in. Unfortunately Foreman followed him. "You were asleep, in the morgue of all places."

"Well, it is the quietest place in the hospital."

"I just want you to do your job."

House sighed. Was Foreman this annoying when he worked for him? "I am doing my job. My job is to save lives, which makes the hospital look good, makes people want to donate, makes you look good, and then you get a nice big fat pat on the back by a bunch of stuffed shirt assholes in suits. Isn't that what you want boss?"

Foreman just glared at House. "Just please do your hours and don't make me have to come looking for you."

"Yes Master, may I go now?" he asked, not waiting for a response as he exited the fourth floor elevator and headed to his office. God, he hated Foreman in this position. Not only was he no Cuddy, but his ego was more inflated than ever before. House laughed quietly to himself. No, Foreman was no Cuddy but what he wouldn't give to spike Foreman's drink sometime, dress him up in a tight suit with heels and get a picture of that. House mused, while the vision of Foreman dressed as a woman was very disturbing, it would make great blackmail material, and at least it'd keep the bastard off his ass for a few months anyway.

House decided to make a pit stop at Wilson's office before his own. Without knocking, he opened the door, and made himself at home on the couch across from Wilson's desk.

Without even looking up, Wilson said "Foreman is looking for you."

"Yeah I know, he cornered me in the elevator and preached to me all the benefits of clinic duty and how it would mean so much to him if I showed up for all my hours."

Wilson looked at House with a raised eyebrow then continued writing in his patient's chart.

"What the hell is it with him and Adams anyway? Why in hell do those two think if I do more hours I'm going to suddenly become Mother Teresa?"

"I don't know House. Maybe they have this weird idea that helping people makes one a better doctor or maybe a better person?"

House put a hand over his eyes and sighed "Oh God not you too."

Wilson put down his pen and looked at House. "Why are you here? Last I checked you had a very nice office of your own, complete with new furniture and a stocked bar. What could I have that you possibly want?"

"Can't a guy visit his bestie every once in awhile?"

"House, we see each other so much people are starting to talk."

"It's nothing I haven't heard before, besides whom do you think started the rumors?"

"Seriously. Why are you here?"

"Why am I ever here?"

"You want to talk."

"I hate talking."

"You're miserable and you want to wallow in it."

"They say misery loves company."

"I'm not miserable House." Wilson sighed and leaned back in his chair. House lay on the couch with his hands over his eyes.

"Something's up with you. You solved your case, you should be well…your version of happy, which means you should be slightly less miserable than usual. So what's wrong with you?"

"My mom called last night."

"And?"

"She wants to visit."

"What's wrong with that? You and your mom get along fine."

"Of course we do, we live in different states."

"House, you've always gotten along with your mom. Admit it, you just hate talking about personal things and your mom wants to talk about…well…personal things."

"Exactly."

"Again, what's wrong with that?"

"Uh hello? She's my mom."

"Oh shit House, grow up. You knew this was going to happen sooner or later. I intentionally didn't go into too much detail with her about what happened with you and Cuddy because I just felt it was something you needed to do. Knowing you'd gone to jail was hard on her. You never even replied to her letters. You didn't even talk to her until you were released. You need to talk to her now. She deserves to know what happened, don't you think?"

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not so good at this talking thing. It's what got me in trouble in the first place."

Wilson nodded that he understood. "I know House. Listen, she loves you and she wants you to let her in. Don't you think after all these years it's about time? She's not going to be around forever you know."

"Oh God I can't believe you just played the aging parent card. That whole Jewish guilt complex is a beautiful thing to behold, it's a work of art really, but I'm on to you" he said as he shook his finger at Wilson.

Wilson knew when House deflected it meant he was venturing into uncertain territory and didn't want to talk any more on the subject so he went back to his patient charts.

House just lay there on the couch contemplating. He knew Wilson was right and after all it was too late to do nothing because he'd already made arrangements with his mother to visit. He'd known this had to happen sooner or later. The truth was he loved his mother very much and it hurt him to disappoint her. His mother had always had high hopes for him, always been his biggest supporter and fan and House was embarrassed that his mother knew what he did to Cuddy and that he'd been in prison. It brought back all those feelings he had when his father used to tell him how useless he was and how he would never amount to anything. Suddenly he sat up, too soon though because his leg was hurting. He began to feel a little panicked from all the thoughts running through his head.

Wilson picked up on the tension. "House are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just need some air," and without saying another word he was gone.

Later that evening, Cuddy arrived home with Rachel asleep in the back of the car. It had been a long day for both of them as Cuddy had stayed late at work and Sharon picked up both girls from school and taken them back to her house. She woke Rachel, unbuckled her then led her into the house and straight to her bedroom. Rachel was barely awake as her mother changed her then tucked her into bed with a goodnight kiss. "I love you baby" Cuddy whispered as she walked out of the room and closed the door.

After she changed into yoga pants and a cardigan she set the heat a little higher and headed to the kitchen to make tea. She suddenly realized she hadn't gotten her mail yet so she ran out to the mailbox in bare feet and grabbed the mail, running back into the house shivering. The temperature had dropped very quickly in the last few hours. She glanced through her mail and noted it was nothing interesting, just the cable bill, a couple of pieces of junk mail and…a letter in handwriting she immediately recognized, with Wilson's return address in Princeton. She smiled as she thought it was nice Wilson had mailed her a letter rather than emailing or calling like he usually did. Just as she was getting ready to open it, the kettle whistled and she poured herself a cup of tea. Grabbing the letter she went into the living room and made herself comfortable on the couch. As she opened the envelope, the phone rang. She really didn't want to talk to anyone and that thought was reaffirmed as she saw the number on the caller ID. It was her mother's cell phone number. She closed her eyes and sighed. During their last conversation which was about a week ago, her mother had gone ad nauseam about how Julia's husband Michael, a partner in a prestigious law firm in New Haven, had been elected president of the Connecticut Bar Association. Cuddy closed her eyes and decided to answer the phone, she could always tell her mother she was tired and would call her in a few days. She set the letter back on the table and picked up the phone.

"Hi mom" her voice had a monotonous tone.

"Oh Lisa, thank God you're home."

Cuddy was immediately concerned. It sounded like her mother was….crying.

"Mom, what's going on? What's wrong?

"It's Michael. He had a heart attack."

"Oh my God. What happened?"

"I don't know, he was at work, a board meeting or something. He just collapsed. The ambulance took him to the hospital but he had another one on the way. There was nothing they could do."

Cuddy's thoughts immediately went to her sister and three children. "Mom how's Julia? Is she okay? What about the kids?"

"When we got the call from the office, I was having dinner with Julia and the kids and I told her I'd stay here with them while she went to the hospital. We weren't sure if the kids should be there. It's a good thing they weren't because your sister went into hysterics. One of Michael's partners rode in the ambulance to the hospital and he brought her home. She was in hysterics, the kids were scared. She had some valium in the medicine cabinet; I gave her a couple so she could calm down. Don't worry it's a low dosage but enough that it knocked her out."

"Where are the kids?"

"The kids are in the bedroom with Julia, they didn't want to leave her alone."

Cuddy sighed trying to control her tears. She couldn't even imagine what her sister and the kids were going through right now. "God mom this is awful. I am so sorry. Listen I got home just a bit ago but I can get Rachel up and we can bet there by midnight."

"That'd be great if you could be here for your sister but it's late dear and honestly there's nothing you can do, nothing any of us can do right now. Why don't you two leave in the morning instead? I think Julia's going to be out for awhile anyway. When you get here tomorrow we can start making arrangements. "

"Okay mom."

"I love you and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Love you too mom." Cuddy hung up the phone still stunned over this recent turn of events. Michael was dead. That was just hard to believe. He was only 45 and had always been healthy and robust and athletic. Never one to sit idle he always had to be doing something, it was one of the things that attracted Julia to him so many years ago. He loved to work and he was good at it. That dedication and hard work that fueled his rise at the law firm and likely would have propelled him to a judgeship eventually, at least that's what he'd hoped for someday. Now, there was no someday, nothing but a long, cold eternity. Her thoughts immediately went to Julia and the kids. How on earth would they get through this? Cuddy recalled how badly it affected she and Julia when their father died. But they were older then. Still, losing a parent is hard at any age.

Cuddy tried to control her emotions as she got up from the sofa and went into Rachel's room where her little one lay sound asleep. She pulled the covers back over Rachel, who had a habit of kicking them off in her sleep. She kissed her on the temple and left the bedroom, closing the door behind her. She went back in the living room and paced, not sure what to do. Cuddy felt sure she should be doing something constructive, after all how could she relax when her sister just lost her husband, the love of her life? It didn't seem fair, they were so happy, had a wonderful family. It just didn't seem fair at all.

Cuddy contemplated cleaning to relieve her anxiety but she felt drained and decided to spend the night on the couch snuggled up with her grandmother's afghan. She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath, listening to the comforting tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the hallway. As she relaxed, her mind recalled the memory of a night when a certain handsome, snarky diagnostician crawled into bed next to her and held her close under the covers as she cried, just hours after he'd saved her mother's life. As a tear slipped from the corner of one eye, she drifted off to sleep. The letter she was about to read when she received the phone call, remained on the coffee table, half opened. It would have to wait until later.

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