A/N: I'll share this little tidbit with you. Originally I'd planned to wrap this up around 100 chapters. Hell, I never even thought it would go this long, but it did. The thing is...there's no way with the ideas I have in mind, that this will wrap up in 100. I'm not intentionally delaying the inevitable, I just don't want to rush it, it has to play out otherwise it won't feel right. Please hang in there. I know this has been quite a ride but I really appreciate you reading it!

Thank you Cherokee Jedi for taking a peek...well more than a peek. She was my lifeline this week while I was sick with the flu and trying to write this.

"There were good times, mom," he said, suddenly.

She smiled. "You remember?"

"Yeah, I've been talking about it in therapy."

"I'm proud of you. There were some good times. I want you to hold on to those." She put her hand over his. "Greg, I'm sorry for everything I put you through. For John...and the relationship with your father you should've had. And I'm sorry about Thomas...that you never really got the chance to know him."

"It wasn't meant to be," he replied. It was meant to sound casual but it contained a great deal of feeling on his part.

"Will you be okay?" She asked.

"I guess I don't have a choice do I?"

She stood in front of him and grabbed both his arms gently. "I suppose not. But I know my son and you will be okay." She put her arms around him and brought her close to him. Her son had never been the hugging type but it felt so good to her. For a moment it reminded her of when he was a little boy and hugged her all the time. "I love you Greg with all my heart and I wouldn't change a thing if it meant I would not have you."

House was rigid at first but hearing those words, feeling his mother's embrace, it was too much and so he let himself relax in her embrace. When he did, he could feel her do the same. They pulled apart mutually and House grabbed his cane which hung on the dresser. He turned to walk out but looked back at his mother.

"Mom?"

"Yes, Greg?" She looked up and saw his eyes were tired but he seemed much more at ease than before they'd talked.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome dear," she said as he turned and walked out the bedroom door, down the hallway and into the living room. She sat on the bed and opened the album again. She gasped when the first photo she saw was an old five-by-seven photo of John in fatigues and a four-year old Greg sitting on a table in front of the ice cream shop on base, eating cones and smiling, not at the camera but at each other, neither of them seemed to be remotely aware of the camera. Then she broke down in tears.

House and Cuddy sat in the den which at one time had been John's office. It was small but comfortable with a loveseat, wood stove, and a recliner by the large bay window overlooking the backyard. They sat on the floor, their backs against the couch, looking at the small trunk in front of them.

"Are you sure you want me here while you do this?"

"I'm sure. Haven't I hid enough shit from you over the years?" He asked. She placed her hand on his knee and squeezed gently.

As they unpacked the items they came across a number of old books, news clippings, some military items, letters, photos and small collectibles from his travels abroad.

"Damn how did he get his hands on this?"

"What?" She looked over and saw House flipping carefully through a book.

"A 1911 copy of Treasure Island. One of my favorites. I think this is the one mom used to read me when I was a kid."

Cuddy nudged him for the book. He handed it to her and she opened it and gently turned the pages.

"This is incredible House, it's over one hundred years old and still in beautiful condition."

"That's dad. Always took excellent care of everything." As an afterthought he said, "I bet Rachel would enjoy it."

"No, I couldn't give her something that old and valuable to read."

"No, I mean you could read it to her. She loves pirates, remember?"

"True. Hey...are you...giving me this book?"

"Why not? Seems a shame to leave it in a trunk when the kid could enjoy it."

"You're so sweet." She leaned over and kissed him.

He kissed her back and whispered, "Don't let anyone hear that, you'll ruin my reputation."

Cuddy kissed him again and he felt little Greg begin to rise to the occasion. He nuzzled her neck and said, "You know things are going to get a bit out of control if we don't watch it. Do you really want to be writhing in pleasure all over my dead dad's stuff?"

She chuckled. "Who says I'd be writhing in pleasure?"

"You doubt my abilities?"

"Never." She winked at him before she reached into the chest again.

She pulled out a giant scrapbook and began flipping through it.

"You're awfully quiet. Whatcha got there?" He asked.

"It's...you...all about you."

"Let me see that." He took the book out of her hands and flipped through it. Sure enough, every page was dedicated to him. There were report cards, school progress reports, awards, news clippings and other information about him from elementary school to long past college. There were even a few articles about him receiving awards, having papers published and leading the world's foremost diagnostics department.

"Did you have any idea?" She asked.

"No, none." He turned the pages in awe, looking at all the things his father had collected over the years. When he got to the back of the book, he found an envelope, old and yellowed, postmarked May 1965 in San Francisco and Vietnam. He opened it and nearly gasped. Inside was a photo of him about six years old, dressed in his father's oversized Marine jacket and hat, standing with his back to a tall mirror. He was smiling and saluting the camera. On the back of the photo, it read, "Little man misses you. I do too. We love you. Blythe."

Cuddy leaned over and looked at the picture,. "Oh House, you were so adorable."

House barely acknowledged her as he spent the next several minutes looking at the photo, touching it as if trying to remember the moment it was taken. Cuddy tried to give him some space as she went through the rest of the odds and ends in the chest but she couldn't help but look over at him every now and then to see how he was doing.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he said. He dug into the chest again and brought out the last of the items which consisted of three small wooden boxes with an envelope taped to one of them. He immediately recognized his father's precise penmanship. Color drained from his face and his hands trembled a bit as he opened it, not sure what he expected to find.

Dear Greg,

If you're reading this it means I'm dead. Not exactly a great opening but I don't know how else to start this letter. By now you've gone through the trunk full of what your mother refers to as junk but it's stuff that means something to me. It's all yours now and you can do with it what you want.

You know I'm not one for writing about my feelings but your mother is right, as always. She told me that I needed to make things right with you. I wanted to for a long time, I just didn't know how to do it. Your mother is a piece of work isn't she? I don't know where I'd be without her. I wish I'd listened to her years ago.

When I was growing up my father taught me that I had to work for everything I wanted, that it would never come easy because if it did, I wouldn't appreciate it. So I worked hard and I sacrificed because that's what I thought I was supposed to do. Then you came along and everything came so naturally to you. I guess I didn't like it because I didn't think you appreciated it. I guess I was envious of you. I know how ridiculous it sounds that a father would be envious of his son, but it's true. I intentionally made life difficult for you because I thought it would make you appreciate what you had more. I was wrong.

When you were a little boy, you wanted to be like me but as you got older that changed and it hurt. I understand now why you didn't want to be like me and I am thankful you aren't. Over the years I've seen how my treatment of you has influenced your life and I wish I'd supported and encouraged you instead of pushing you away.

You deserved to hear this from me in person but I know now it will never happen, it's just not who we are. Greg, I'm sorry for the way I treated you. You deserved better. You were a good boy, the best son any father could've wanted. I tried to use the same discipline on you that I used on my men. I wanted to toughen you up, make you like me. I thought I was doing you a favor. I'd hoped to avoid all the mistakes my dad made with me but it looks like I just repeated them. I was awfully hard on you and I wish I could take it back. I wish I would've spent those years being the kind of father you deserved. You never had that and I am sorry.

I know it is ridiculous to ask for forgiveness since I'm already dead but I am hoping you will do it, not for me but for yourself. I know how much I hurt you and you deserve to move on with your life and find some happiness. Don't let my misery be yours. Go live the life you really want and find the happiness you deserve.

I am proud to be your dad and no matter what, you are my son and I love you.

John

House sat there for a moment, a stunned expression on his face. Cuddy, who had stepped out a few moments earlier to retrieve her laptop, returned to her place next to him. She noticed immediately something was wrong. He sat staring at the letter in his hand, his eyes were red-rimmed and wet with unshed tears.

"House?"

He didn't answer.

"Hey, what's wrong?" She asked, reaching for his hand.

He handed her the letter without saying a word. She read it and afterwards sat in stunned silence next to him.

"Wow."

"He didn't hate me." He leaned back against he couch and closed his eyes. His jaw was tight and he was tense.

Cuddy held his hand tightly. "House, I think this letter is one of the best things that could've happened to you. You needed this."

"I can't believe he wrote that. That's so not him."

"Your mom said he had regrets. It had to take great courage for him to write that letter and admit he was wrong and ask for your forgiveness. It seemed like everything your father did to you was always about him but this time he did something that was about you. I think he wanted you to be able to let go."

"He acted like he hated me but he didn't, did he?"

She leaned on his shoulder and he leaned back on her, each of them holding the other up. "No, he didn't. I can't make sense of this but maybe we don't have to. Maybe we don't have to analyze or wonder anymore. All of this just proves he was just human. He made mistakes and fucked up, but then we all do."

He put his arm around her and pulled her close, dipping his nose into her hair and kissing the top of her head. God how he loved her. She never sugarcoated things but she always knew how to help him see the other side.

"What was that for?" She asked, as she smiled and looked up at him.

"You said we."

She chuckled. "We are in this together, right?"

"You're fucking amazing, you know that?" He said softly.

She could feel his body relax into hers. "You going to be okay?" She asked.

"I think so, his is just...a lot."

"I know it is, House."

They stayed like that for a few minutes, until she sensed it was a good time to change the subject and lighten the mood. She reached for one of the wooden boxes. "Come on, help me with this, will ya?"

"What are you doing?"

"Going through these coins. Most of them are pretty old, I'm just curious about their history, what they might be worth." Cuddy took a sheet from the first wooden box, perused it, then typed something into the search engine on her laptop.

"I can't believe dad kept these," House said as he picked up the box she was working with and began rifling through the coins. "He's been collecting since he was a kid. His father did too. I wonder if any of these belonged to my grandfather."

He looked over at Cuddy, she was biting her bottom lip and staring intently at the screen. "So...how's it going so far?"

"He's definitely got a lot of old stuff there, a lot of it rare and I-"

House looked up from the box to see why she didn't finish.

"What?"

"Hand me that first box there," she said, as she pointed to a box near his right leg. he picked it up and handed it to her. She put her laptop aside and went through the coins till she found the one she was looking for. Then she grabbed her laptop and scrutinized the coin she held and whatever was on the screen.

"What's going on?" He asked, impatiently.

"Holy shit!" She exclaimed.

"What?"

"This." She turned the laptop so he could see it. He read what was on the screen and his eyes got wide.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

"You gotta be kidding."

"I'm not kidding. Check for yourself."

House looked at the screen and then the sheet in her hand and then picked up the coin in question.

"I can't fucking believe it. Dad, you son of a bitch," he said, shaking his head.

It was late and House and Cuddy were still sitting on the floor in the den. They were joined by Blythe and Rachel. Coffee cups, milk glasses and dessert dishes littered the coffee tables. The coin boxes were spread around and Cuddy was making notations on the sheets that were found in the boxes.

"Well, that's it," Cuddy said, triumphantly.

"I can't believe your dad has a penny worth one hundred thousand dollars," Blythe said, still stunned.

"Ahh but it's not just any penny Blythe, it's a 1943 Copper Wheat penny," Cuddy said. "And then there's the buffalo head and the Morgan silver dollar."

"I can't believe it," House said, shaking his head. "If this is right, there's over four hundred thousand dollars here. Mom, you had no idea?" House asked, still in shock over their discovery.

Blythe shrugged. "Coins were your father's thing. He never really cared what they were worth, he just enjoyed collecting. I never bothered asking him what was in there because it just wasn't my thing. Now they're yours. You can do with them whatever you want."

"What are you going to do?" Cuddy asked.

"Well if you tell Wilson, I'll be paying him back all the money I owe him with interest," he said, making Cuddy laugh. Then he got serious. "I don't know. I don't have any debt. I own the apartment, the bike, the car..I've got a retirement plan, insurance, and plenty of savings." He saw Cuddy eye him curiously and he looked down. "I socked away quite a bit just in case something happened...with my health and all." He looked at her hoping she understood. She did. He'd worried he might need long-term care eventually and wanted to have enough money set aside for it.

"Well it's yours to do whatever you want dear," Blythe said. "I'm sure you'll do the right thing. In the meantime, I'm going to clean up the dishes here. Rachel, would you like to help me?"

"What about you?" House asked, when they were gone.

"What about me?"

"You doing okay financially? I mean, you always did but what about now?"

"I'm doing great. The house we live in is a rental, the insurance settlement paid for the new car and I put the rest in the bank. I've got my investments, Rachel's college plan, and savings. The only debt I have is the credit card and I pay that off every month. You know how I am with money. If it's one thing my parents taught me that didn't screw me up it's how to manage money."

"So what do we do with it?"

"We?"

He nodded. "Yep."

"House, it's all yours."

He took her hand and drew circles in her palm. "What if I wanted to share it with you?"

Her eyes got wide. "What are you saying?"

Before he could reply, Rachel and Blythe entered the room. Rachel bounded over to them and practically threw herself in her mother's lap.

"Mommy, I'm tired."

"You ready for bed?"

"Uh huh. Can you read me a story?"

Cuddy remembered the Treasure Island book. "Yep and I've got just the book." She picked it up and looked at House, who nodded. She got up from the floor and stretched, then led Rachel by the hand down the hall. Before they made it all the way, Rachel separated herself from her mother and ran back and wrapped her arms around House.

"G'night Howse," she mumbled into his neck.

He patted her on the head and ruffled her hair. "Night, kid."

Rachel ran over and hugged Blythe too, then took her mother's hand and led her down the hall to the bedroom.

Blythe's heart was warmed by the sight as she watched her son interact with Cuddy and Rachel. She walked over to her son and ruffled his hair, something she hadn't done since he was a boy.

House glanced up and saw his mother smiling at him.

"What?" He asked.

"You love those girls."

"I do," he said quietly.

"Go. I'll clean this up. I'm not that tired right now," she said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, go." She watched as he got up from the floor and knowing how awkward it was for him she offered him a hand, which to her surprise, he accepted. She hugged him and whispered in his ear. "I'm so proud of you."

They parted and he grabbed his cane and limped down the hall with a purpose. She frowned that his limp was more pronounced, knowing it was because he'd been sitting on the floor for hours. She thought to herself what she would give, even if it meant her own life, to take away his pain. She sighed and looked around at all of the things that John had packed so carefully in his trunk, that lay on couch, coffee table and floor. She chuckled to herself at the thought that all that "junk" as she once called it, had turned out to contain a small fortune. She walked over to John's chair by the window and sat down a moment and picked up the framed photo of the two of them taken at a friend's retirement party the year before he died. She ran her finger over the glass surface remembering how he still looked healthy then and how much fun they'd had that night. She held the picture to her breast and closed her eyes, smiled and said, "Thank you, John."

Back in Rachel's room, the little girl was freshly bathed and in her pajamas and snuggled under the covers. Cuddy lay on the bed reading to Rachel.

Chapter One. The Old Sea-dog at the Admiral Benbow

Squire Trelawney, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I take up my pen in the year of grace 17_ and go back to the time when my father kept the Admiral Benbow inn and the brown old seaman with the sabre cut first took up his lodging under our roof...

House watched from the doorway as Cuddy read the first few pages of Treasure Island to Rachel. At first the little girl was caught up in the moment but eventually her eyes drifted shut. Cuddy read a little longer until she was sure Rach was asleep, then she bent over to kiss her and turned out the light. She met House in the hallway.

"Why didn't you come in?"

"Didn't want to interrupt."

"You could've read those pirate voices so much better."

"But you did such a bang up job," he mused with a grin.

She rolled her eyes as they walked into their bedroom and closed the door behind them. House hung his cane on the foot of the bed and sat down and dug the palm of his hand into his thigh to relieve the pain. Cuddy immediately stripped down to her panties as House watched; she knew it would momentarily distract him from the pain. She grabbed his tee shirt that hung on the bedpost and slid it over her body and then she stood in front of him.

"Hurting pretty bad isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Do you need to change the patch?"

"No, it's okay."

"Lay back," she instructed. He laid back on the bed and she kneeled down and took off his shoes and socks and then unbuttoned his jeans and gently pulled them off. She reached into her overnight bag and pulled out a bottle of hand lotion. She looked up momentarily and watched as his eyes got wide.

"Not even close," she said with a smirk. She knew his mind was conjuring up dirty thoughts. She warmed her hands with the lotion and then got back on the bed next to him and began to massage his thigh. He flinched at her initial touch but soon relaxed enough for her to continue.

"Thank...you..." he managed to groan.

"You're welcome. This okay? The pressure?"

"It's perfect...hurts so much."

"I know. And I'm going to help make you feel better."

"I don't have to, I want to. Now shut up and relax," she said.

"Yes, mistress," he replied sarcastically.

Neither spoke for a few minutes as she massaged his leg. She could feel the tension leaving his body and she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw his fists unclench and his facial muscles relax.

"You're really not upset about Rachel?" He asked, breaking the silence. He peered at her with one eye open to gauge her reaction.

Without missing a beat she replied, "Nope."

"I was really worried about her."

"I know you were. But I know she's in good hands with you."

House smiled and laid his head back on the bed. He felt a tear begin to fall from the corner of his right eye but he wasn't sure if it was the pain or what she had said. Knowing how much Cuddy trusted him with Rachel filled him with depth of motion he couldn't express.

"I don't want to go back to Princeton without you," he said, out of the blue.

She smiled. "Funny, because I don't want to go back to Boston without you."

At the same time, they looked at each other, gray on blue, searching for the words that would come next. House spoke first.

"Come back with me. We'll go to Philly tomorrow and see Nolan then drive back to Princeton to spend the night. Maybe have dinner with Wilson. You can fly back on Monday."

"We could do that," she said. "You think Nolan will see you on a Sunday?"

"I'll call him tonight and ask nicely."

"It would be nice to talk to him again, given everything that we've been through."

"There's something else," he said.

"What?" She stopped and looked up at him. She noticed the hesitation. "What is it, House?"

"Thanksgiving is next week."

"Don't remind me," she groaned.

House chuckled knowing she was referring to her mother and sister visiting.

"Since I'm going to see you Wednesday night, I'd like to have Rachel stay with me for a few days. You know she'll be fine."

"Really?" She was completely shocked at his request.

"If you don't want to, that's okay. I mean-"

"No, that's not it. House...I don't know."

He frowned. He was worried this would happen. He sat up on the bed. "I thought you trusted me with her."

"I do trust you...it's just that you've never had her for more than a few hours."

"I can handle it besides we have Aunt Wilson there to help. It'll be fine." He smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

"She's a big responsibility. I mean...why would you want to do this?"

He hung his head and looked at the floor. "Today in the mall when she was missing, it felt like a piece of me was missing too, I mean, it just hurt. I knew then...how attached I am to her. I really care about her, Cuddy. When we first got together a few years ago I was apprehensive but I did it mostly for you. But she grew on me and I missed her after we broke up and...everything that happened. Now..." He looked up at her trying to convey his thoughts without saying them.

Cuddy stopped her massage and stepped off the bed and between his legs. With one hand she lifted his chin up so he would look at her. "I know," she said. She knew he loved her little girl. It was still hard for him sometimes to express his emotions and she knew that. She was just happy she could read him and understand him so well.

They held each other a moment when she looked down and cupped his face and said, "Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I bet Rachel would love to spend a few days with you."

He pulled her close and buried his face in her stomach and slid his hands underneath her shirt so he could feel her smooth warm skin. She wrapped her arms around around him and felt him relax into her.

"You're going to be okay House," she said. She wasn't prepared for what she heard next.

"It feels good to be loved."

She swallowed hard and tried not to cry as she ran her fingers through his hair, She loved him so much at that moment that she felt her heart would burst. She held him tighter.

"You will always be loved."