A/N: I thought House deserved some quality time with his mother. House wants to have a more open relationship with his mom. It's not easy but he has to start somewhere. I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Thanks to Gr8fulInsomniac for taking a peek! :D

Saturday morning House woke to an array of smells wafting through his bedroom. He grunted in pain as he moved himself into a sitting position. He spent several minutes rubbing his right thigh before grabbing his cane and limping into the kitchen where his mother was preparing breakfast.

"Greg dear, good morning," said Blythe as she kissed her son on the cheek and handed him a mug of coffee.

"Morning," he replied.

Blythe noticed her son's limp was more pronounced than the previous evening.

"Dear how's your leg?" she asked.

"Fine mom. It's always bad in the morning; it'll ease up a bit in a few hours."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, it's not your fault."

"Yes I know. But still-"

"Mom I'm fine," he told her. The last thing he wanted was pity from his mother.

"I know dear, you're always fine," she said as she moved about the small kitchen preparing breakfast and setting it on the butcher block table. When everything was ready, she pulled up a stool for herself and sat down across from her son.

As they ate, both were unusually quiet. House did not want his mother to worry so much about his leg so he said, "The physical therapy is doing wonders for my leg."

His mother looked up, a huge smile on her face. "Physical therapy? Really?"

"Yeah. I have a standing physical therapy session every Tuesday afternoon; it takes up half my day. It includes swimming, strength training and intense massage therapy. The strength training won't give me back the missing muscle but it helps strengthen the other muscles in my leg and throughout my body." He held up his cane, "Walking with this thing so long doesn't help either so the upper body strength training has done wonders for my back and shoulders."

"I'm happy for you Greg. Good for you!"

House sensed the elief in his mother's voice and it felt good to tell her of his progress. The exercise helped a great deal and while the pain in his leg would always be there, it wasn't as intense for long periods of time as it used to be. House cut into his pancakes and began eating. He let out a moan of appreciation at his mother's fine cooking. She just watched him and laughed.

"You always did love my pancakes."

"Best in Virginia, or anywhere for that matter."

"It beats Lucky Charms doesn't it son?"

"Bite your tongue! Nothing beats Lucky Charms!" House exclaimed.

"I should have given you my special recipe so you could make them for Li—," Blythe stopped herself before she finished the sentence.

House looked at his mother and noticed her obvious discomfort. "It's okay mom, you can say her name."

"I'm sorry Greg."

"Nothing to be sorry about mom. You didn't screw it up."

They continued eating in silence. House took a sip of his coffee and looked over at his mother who was obviously wanting to talk but unsure what to say. House had promised himself he wanted a more open relationship with his mother and though it would take time, he needed to learn not to be afraid to discuss things with her.

"Mom?"

"Yes dear."

"I—" he wasn't sure how to begin the conversation. He looked down at his plate, moving the eggs around with his fork.

Blythe put her fork down. She sensed her son's difficulty in expressing what was on his mind. He'd been like that all his life, keeping his innermost thoughts deeply hidden, revealing himself to her only in bits and pieces over the years.

She put her hand on his arm. "You talk when you're ready."

House looked up at his mother and smirked. He loved how his mom could always read him. So many years had passed when they had very little if any contact and yet she still gets him. He really wanted to take the opportunity to talk with her during her visit, not just small talk either, he wanted to tell her what was going on in his life because she'd always been there for him and she deserved to know the truth.

"Mom, I really screwed up." When House looked at his mother she could see the pain very clearly in his eyes.

"Why don't you tell me what happened?"

"You're only here a few more days. Do you really have that much time?"

"I have all the time in the world when it comes to you." She smiled and patted his arm.

"Where do I begin?" he asked.

"Anywhere you want. Beginning, middle, end, it doesn't matter."

House took a deep breath and just started talking. It was not his strong point but he had to begin somewhere. He began telling her about the events leading to Mayfield. It was as good a place to start as any besides he felt his mother deserved to know what led him there. She'd already known about Mayfield thanks to Wilson keeping in touch with her but she never knew the specific details. Wilson had simply told her that the pain medication had affected him in such a way that he needed to detox and find alternative therapies. Blythe had never pressed her son for information, hoping someday he would want to talk to her about it.

House filled his mother in about Amber's death and temporary loss of Wilson's friendship. He left out the details of how they became friends again, knowing that would require him telling her about Cuddy drugging him to get him to go to his father's funeral. House didn't want his mother to know how much he had not wanted to attend the funeral.

Though it was very difficult for him, he recalled to her the events of Kutner's suicide and the days and weeks that followed when he battled insomnia and dramatically increased his intake of Vicodin which, at some point, no longer helped his leg pain, instead inducing hallucinations. During all this, Blythe never said a word, she just sat there and listened, nodding her head occasionally and patting his hand, urging him to continue as long as he felt comfortable doing so.

"One night, the hallucinations were so bad, I actually thought Cuddy had helped me detox. I hallucinated hav—"he stopped himself, embarrassed at what he was about to reveal. He had already told his mother so much; he worried what she would think if she knew the extent of his hallucinations.

"Greg?"

"It's nothing. I hallucinated."

"What did you hallucinate dear?"

"Mom, really I don't want to go into it."

"Alright."

Both of them were silently sipping their coffee. It seemed to Blythe that House wanted to talk but couldn't find the right words. She did not push him; rather she waited it out, hoping he would feel comfortable enough to continue.

Suddenly House wasn't hungry anymore. He got up from his stool, limped into the living room and sat at his piano. It was the one place he felt shielded from the world, where the painful forces of reality could not reach him. Blythe picked up her mug of coffee, and not saying a word; moved to the couch and watched him play.

After playing for a few minutes, House stopped, placed his hands in his lap and looked down at them. Softly, he said, "I hallucinated that Cuddy helped me detox and that we had sex afterwards."

The apartment was silent; neither of them said a word. Blythe knew her son was uncomfortable talking about this but it had been his call. For whatever reason he felt the need to tell her. Before she could say anything to him, he continued.

"That wasn't the worst of it. At the time I didn't know it was a hallucination and when Cuddy refused to acknowledge our night together I took it upon myself to yell it from the balcony inside the hospital."

Blythe was stunned at her son's revelation but said nothing.

"Mom aren't you going to say anything?"

"What do you want me to say? I told you that you talk, I listen."

"Yeah but after what I did? You're not going to give me the third degree?"

Blythe laughed and then replied, "Gregory, you've probably beat yourself up for it a dozen times already. Besides, you were not in your right mind, it wasn't your fault."

House replied softly, "Yeah not in my right mind."

"I'm sorry dear, that's not how I meant it."

"I know mom, relax."

"Do you want to tell me what happened next?"

He hesitated for a moment, plucked a few notes and stopped. "Cuddy fired me and then when I confronted her about our night together, she said it never happened. It was then that I recalled what really happened."

"Which was?"

"I insulted her in her office, she responded by leaving me there all alone. The tube of lipstick I thought I'd been toying with all day long-" he hesitated and then continued, "was really a bottle of Vicodin. I nearly lost it, no I did lose it. Cuddy took me to Wilson and immediately he drove me to Mayfield. I had no choice, I hit rock bottom."

"My God Greg. I never knew."

"Of course not, I told Wilson to come up with something believable and since I was detoxing in Mayfield, it seemed a good enough excuse for you. I just couldn't tell you the truth."

"Why now?"

"Nolan's trying to get me to be more open", he replied. "You deserve to know. You're the only one who has never let me down. No matter what I did, you were always there for me."

"Greg?"

"Yeah?"

"How did you two finally get together?"

"Well, after years of circling one another, I think she had just given up on me. There were moments that seemed like we might get it together but we were never on the same page. When I left Mayfield though I was determined to show her I had changed but by that time…" he drifted off not finishing the sentence. He didn't want to relive the moment he found out she had been with Lucas.

"By that time what Greg?"

"By that time it was too late. She was dating Lucas, a guy I'd hired to do some private eye work for me. He knew I liked her but I guess he figured with me out of the picture he had a shot with her. He was a decent guy, or so I thought. She needed someone who could be there for her and Rachel and that was him."

"Oh Greg."

"It's okay mom, wasn't meant to be I guess. Not then anyway. I tried to show her I'd changed but all she saw was the screwed up jerk I used to be, not how I had changed. Eventually I figured I had to move on, I just didn't know how."

House could see his mother's lips pursed together tightly when he told of how he'd gotten clean and tried to pursue a relationship with Cuddy only to find she'd moved on to someone else. He sensed his mother was angry but she didn't say a word. He continued filling in the blanks with all the things that happened between him and Cuddy after Mayfield. Finally, knowing his mother would want to know how Cuddy moved on from Lucas to her son, he finally told her about night of the crane collapse, giving Cuddy the book written by her great grandfather, the news of Cuddy's engagement to Lucas, and finally Hannah.

"I didn't want her to lose her leg and be in pain the rest of her life like me. I did everything I could to avoid it but in the end, we had no choice. I did everything I could to save her mom, everything. The only way I could get her to let me take her leg off was telling her how miserable and messed up my own life was because I hadn't let them take mine."

Blythe just looked at her son, knowing he was in pain recalling the events of that night. She wanted to reach out to him and hold him and tell him it would be alright but she knew her son all too well, that was not his style. She had to be strong for him so he would have the courage to keep talking, and that is just what he did.

"One time I finally do he right thing, I open myself up and tell the truth, I let someone else in. That's what everyone's wanted me to do for years. When I finally do that everything backfires... " he drifted off for a moment.

Plucking a few notes of the piano he continued, "I tried to save Hannah by doing the right thing and she died anyway. I committed myself to a mental institution to get my life back and prove to Cuddy I could be different and she winds up with someone else. It seemed everything I did after Mayfield just backfired on me. I just thought if I finally did what everyone had told me to do for years, just open up and let others in, that things would go my way. One day I'm clean and sober and the next I'm sitting on the floor of my bathroom with two bottles of Vicodin ready to end it all…or at least just numb the pain." House recalled that moment with extreme pain in his voice.

Blythe listened with tears forming in her eyes. As she watched her son talk for the last few hours about what he'd been through she thought about the little boy she once knew, light haired, blue—eyed, full of curiosity and spunk, never letting anyone get the best of him. She could not understand how that wild and carefree little boy came to be a man in so much pain. It broke her heart to see him like this.

"Anyway, Cuddy just walked in, I mean just like that, she was there. She gave me a choice. Take the pills or not. Either way, she'd broken off her engagement with Lucas and told me she loved me. Me. Can you imagine that? A woman who has it all together breaks off her engagement with a guy who would make a perfect husband and father, to be with me." House just shook his head and laughed, mocking himself.

A tear escaped from his mother's left eye but House did not yet notice because he was once again focused on playing the piano.

"And that's how it began." He continued in between playing notes, "The thing is it could have begun so many years ago. Cuddy and I had known each other nearly twenty-two years. You know we met in college but you don't know that if I hadn't been so goddamned stupid and just called her the morning I found out I was getting kicked out of med school, our lives could have been so different."

Suddenly House realized his cursing and said, "Sorry mom."

"Don't apologize for cursing; I do it all the time."

He laughed. "You?"

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me Greg."

"Care to share?"

"Maybe later. This is about you. Did you love Lisa when you were in college?"

House continued playing softly. "I don't know. I guess I did in a way. I know she was different from any other girl I'd ever met. She seemed older, more mature and she was so smart. She was amazing. She challenged authority every chance she got and she questioned everything."

"Sounds like someone else I know."

House looked at her and smirked.

"For years we danced around the obvious, missing every damn opportunity that presented itself and the moment we get our second chance, I'm nearly relapsing on my bathroom floor. How screwed up is that?"

Blythe wiped another tear from her eye. "I don't know son, I suppose it is pretty screwed up but you can't fight fate. It was meant to be."

"Yeah, I guess it was, for a while anyway," He replied softly.

Blythe's heart broke for her son. She sighed. "Greg, love is complicated, life is complicated. I wish there was a manual to tell us how to act and react in certain situations but it doesn't exist. We just have to do the best we can with what we have. Sometimes we get it right, other times we screw up."

"Some of us more than others."

"Don't say that."

"It's true mom," House raised his voice a bit. "I pushed Stacy away and I pushed Cuddy away too. I don't deserve to be happy."

Blythe got up and walked over to the piano, motioning for her son to move over and make room for her on the bench next to him.

"You're a good person Greg, even if you are a pain in the ass." She smiled and continued, "You've been through a lot in your life and it has shaped who you are. I know you don't believe people can change but if you want something bad enough you do what you have to do to get it. You deserve love and happiness as much as the next person."

"I've done so many...terrible things."

"Really? Stand in line. We all have problems, shortcomings, weaknesses. Do you think that makes us any less deserving of happiness? Screwing up is a part of life. We make mistakes, hopefully we learn and we move on and try not to make them again. But sometimes we do make the same mistakes over and over again. Yes it's crazy but it's life but Greg dear, you don't give up; you just keep trying till you get it right. "

House said nothing.

"Oh Gregory, I know you better than you think I do. I've always known you were different and that you could not be constrained by conventional rules of society. You had to be your own person, making your own way in a manner that was different from everyone else. I know you have been in love with Lisa Cuddy for years. I know you fight your addiction to Vicodin every single day of your life. I knew long ago that you pushed Stacy out of your life and I knew there was a chance you might never find love again because you fear it. You challenge authority, you break the rules, you wreak havoc wherever you go. You're obsessed with finding the answers and you drive everyone around you crazy while you're doing it. You're cranky, depressed, angry, hurt, and lonely. You've made mistakes that cost you your sanity, your freedom, and the woman you love. Some of the mistakes you've made at times nearly cost you your life! But guess what? You aren't a bad person, you just made mistakes. You have been in pain for so long and I'm not just talking about your leg either. You've told me on more than one occasion that you can't change but I know better. I didn't raise a quitter, I didn't raise a boy who gives up and takes the easy way out. You can change but you have to want to and you have to do it for the right reasons. You can't change for anyone else son, you have to change for yourself."

House just stared at his mother; he was speechless, which did not happen very often.

She sensed what he was thinking. "Yes Gregory, I'm that good. I'm your mother, where do you think you get it from?"

House looked down, shook his head and smirked. She had a point.

Blythe tapped a few keys on the piano and asked her son, "Do you remember when you first learned to play?"

"Hell yeah. Aunt Sarah's old 1925 Bechstein. It was my first. God I loved that thing." House smiled recalling the memory.

"We spent many hours learning to play didn't we?"

"Yeah, it drove dad crazy too."

"Yes it did, which is why I suppose you kept doing it."

"How did you know?"

"You still dare to ask that question."

"Sorry, I forgot." he replied with a light chuckle.

House placed both hands on the keys and began to play, closing his eyes and tilting his head back and enjoying the sounds that filled his apartment. For a moment it was as if he were alone. Blythe just watched him and smiled. She recalled the moments of his youth when he looked most content and it was usually when he played the piano or lacrosse or when he was immersed in a book. She had loved those moments.

"Hey mom?" he asked, never opening his eyes or missing a key.

"Yes?"

"Why don't you stay here with me instead of going to Wilson's?"

Placing her hands on the keys in front of her and duplicating the notes her son was playing, she smiled, looked at him and replied, "That'd be really nice Greg. I'd love it."

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