A/N: Sorry for that cliffhanger. Well, no, I'm not. :) I really AM sorry for leaving you mid cliff by the end of this chapter. I'd meant to tag the next scene on plus this one as one chapter, but this session turned out longer typed up than it was in my mind, and work is starting to pick up for the day as I ended this, so I'll go ahead and give you this much. I will update with the next scene ASAP, which at least progresses the cliff so that you can identify the specific cliff in question. This is a multicliff story. Probably will update again either late tonight or definitely tomorrow. I'm working tomorrow, but I expect work to be quite light on the holiday with plenty of personal computing/FreeCell/crafting/reading time mingled in. Stay tuned and thanks for all of the reviews.

(H/C)

"It's wonderful to have him around," Cuddy said. "He does pull something annoying once in a while like the sleeping bag plans Tuesday night, but then he reminds me of Greg, and I can't help but smile. Those two are going to have so much fun really getting to know each other.

"So you think he did that Tuesday night to be annoying?" Patterson asked.

"No, I guess not. Greg said later he wanted to have some kind of tribute to the past, and he's probably right. But I wish Thomas had just said so, instead of digging in his heels and saying that was how things were going to be, period. We could have talked about it, maybe donated a few extra pillows or an air mattress or something, but he wasn't going to discuss it at all. That's the first time he's really drawn a line like that with me. What?"

Patterson looked like she was fighting to keep from laughing. "I seem to remember you telling me just last week that you hoped he would realize he had to set some limits soon once he arrived so he wouldn't get run over."

"I meant with Greg, not with me!" Cuddy was exasperated, but Patterson's amusement was contagious - when those intense green eyes started laughing, you couldn't help but join in. Cuddy gave up the struggle and smiled.

"It sounds to me like Thomas is being wise," Patterson said. "There is a massive difference between visiting somebody for a few days and living two miles from them. There do need to be lines drawn and boundaries made when people are in near-constant contact with each other, and sometimes, you won't understand the reasons. Boundaries should still be respected, even then." She waited until she received a grudging nod and then changed the subject. "One other thing struck me while you were talking about everything that's happened this week."

Patterson was cut off by Cuddy's cell phone. Not an individualized ring tone, and she pulled it out to check caller ID with a mix of trepidation and irritation in equal measure. It was the evening babysitter. Cuddy glanced at her watch as she answered, and her stomach was already sinking as she prepared for a scheduling crisis. The sitter should have been on her way to the house by now, if not there, and she most likely wasn't calling to report that. "Hello?"

"Dr. Cuddy." Her voice was so worked up that Cuddy's irritation vanished instantly in concern.

"What's wrong?"

"I just got a call a few minutes ago. My brother was in a car wreck. A friend's driving me to the hospital right now. I'm sorry, but I can't . . . they said it was really bad. I need to be there."

"Of course you do. I understand. It's okay; we'll deal with it. I hope your brother turns out to be all right. Let me know sometime when things have settled down."

"I will." The sitter hung up, and Cuddy sat there thinking, worrying.

Another glance at her watch, but the answer hadn't changed much from 30 seconds ago. "Damn it."

"Who was that?" Patterson asked.

"Our evening sitter. She was supposed to arrive early tonight because Marina has a broken tooth and has a dentist appointment, only now she's got a family emergency. There's no way I can drive clear back home in time for Marina to get there even if I left now. And this is Friday; if that tooth doesn't get fixed tonight, it will be several days. Unless . . ." The idea formed. She pictured Thomas clearly in her mind's eye, fun-loving, responsible, only two miles away. He was the perfect answer, but she knew she needed to talk to her husband first. With one eye on that ticking watch, she hit speed dial #1.

It took him three rings to answer, and the instant she heard his voice, taut near to breaking point, she realized that he must be thinking of that last time she'd interrupted his session. "Lisa? What's wrong?"

"I'm okay. We're okay. Everybody's okay." She rushed to reassure him, feeling guilty now. "I didn't mean to remind you of everything."

"What's wrong?"

He didn't sound very reassured, and she took a deep breath and jumped into the deep end, trying to get it all out, both to convince him they really were all right, other than scheduling issues, and to get to her suggestion before he could interrupt. "The sitter just called. She's got a family emergency, and she's on her way to the hospital instead of to our place, and Marina's supposed to leave in 15 minutes for the dentist, and I'm clear in Trenton, and even if I left now, I'd never make it in time, so I thought maybe Thomas could help us out."

Silence for a moment. She could almost hear the tension crackling in him. "You want him to . . ." He couldn't quite say it.

"He's only two miles away, Greg. If he's home. I haven't called him yet, but if he can't, Marina's going to have to miss her appointment. Nobody else we know this well could cut loose fast enough."

"You trust him?" he asked finally. She saved the words, putting them aside on a mental shelf to savor later. Even if he was having trouble trusting Thomas to this extent yet, he did trust her opinion.

"Yes." She gave the answer all the certainty she felt.

"All right."

"Thank you, Greg. I'll call him now. Please, be careful driving once you leave later." She knew better than to push for more. "See you when you get home." She hit end. "Damn. I reminded him of when I called to tell him Dr. Hadley had committed suicide. I didn't even think of that. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Call Thomas first," Patterson reminded her. "Then we can talk more. Michael will make sure he's focused enough to drive before he leaves."

With another glance at her watch, which was still marching on inexorably, Cuddy hit speed dial #2, recently bumped up to that status now that Thomas was going to be around full time.

"Hello, Lisa." The warmth in his voice was something else to be carefully shelved for later. How few people in her life had answered her calls like that.

"Are you at home?" she asked quickly. She knew he was still unpacking; hopefully he wasn't out on a break from it.

"Yes. What's wrong?" He picked up quickly on the tension.

"Our evening babysitter just had an emergency come up, and she's not going to make it tonight. Marina has to leave in ten minutes for a dentist's appointment, and I'm in Trenton."

She heard the jingle of keys. "I'm on my way. You did ask Greg, didn't you?"

"Yes." He was moving while she was talking, going smoothly into action; a door closed. "He agreed that it's okay. But don't take it personally if you happen to get any blunt texts from him in the next hour or so."

"I won't. I can't blame him for being worried, but I'd never hurt the girls."

"You don't have to convince me, Thomas. You had me sold a long time ago." She heard the car door.

"Any special directions about tonight?" His car slid smoothly into life.

"No, nothing in particular. Just enjoy the moment. I'm sure you will. I should be home myself by 5:40 or 5:45, so it won't be too long. Usually the girls eat after I get home, so you won't have to feed them. But don't let Rachel talk you into ordering a pizza. She steps on her shoelaces sometimes when she gets to frisking around, so make sure they stay tied. It's okay if they want to go outside to play since it's a nice day, but be sure to put their sweaters on if it's starting to cool off already. And . . . oh, shut up. Not you, Thomas." That had been directed at Patterson, whose eyes were laughing again at Cuddy's growing list of postscripts tagged on after "just enjoy the moment." "Later on, once Greg gets back from Middletown around 7:00 and after the girls are asleep, we usually go out on our weekly date night. I'm not sure that will happen tonight, though. We'll see."

"I'll hang around until he gets back at least and enjoy the evening with the girls." She heard the pride in his voice at being asked. He was going to be such a good grandpa. "You'd better call Marina and let her know about the change of plans. I'll be there in just a couple of minutes."

"Good idea. She'd probably take your word for it, but I'll tell her. Thanks, Thomas. See you in a little bit." She hit end, then dialed Marina.

The nanny was wound up herself, obviously keeping one of her own eyes riveted on the merciless clock. "Dr. Cuddy! The sitter isn't here yet, and . . ."

"I know, I know. An emergency came up. Thomas is on his way over; he'll be there in a few minutes. I don't think you'll be late."

"Thomas?" Marina repeated. "I'm sure he'll enjoy that."

Rachel was heard running up in the background, picking up on the name. "Grandpa Thomas? I wanna talk to Grandpa Thomas."

"No, Rachel, I'm not talking to him. Dr. House knows?"

"Yes."

"All right. I'll get my things together and be ready to leave soon as he gets here."

"I'll see you Monday, Marina. Good bye." Cuddy hit end and put up her cell, then sighed. "Everything's all set." She was still worried about her husband, though.

Patterson discarded the phone-interrupted line of thought for the moment. She knew that Cuddy would have to work through the impact on House first. "What did Dr. House sound like when you talked to him?"

"Shocked. Like he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop when he answered." She shook her head, annoyed at herself all over again. "Why didn't I think of that last time?"

"What difference would it have made? You had a situation come up where you needed to call him urgently. Would you not have called if you'd remembered the last time? Do you think springing his father as a last-minute babysitter on him without calling him to ask first would be an improvement?"

Cuddy sighed again. "No. He absolutely hates having things sprung on him, let alone something as big as this. I had to call. But I could have reassured him a little faster."

"From what I heard, it sounded to me like you reassured him immediately. You didn't even waste time saying hello. How is this situation your fault?"

"It's not my fault," Cuddy snapped.

"But you still feel guilty about it. You had to call him, and you reassured him immediately. There's nowhere you could have done better in that. I'm filling in from half a conversation here, but it also struck me as a remarkably short conversation, not like you were having to drag him out of the past. I'm sure you did remind him of that other call, but he accepted your reassurance, didn't he?"

"No, he still asked me again what's wrong. That's how he answered and what he said again even after I told him we were all right."

Patterson leaned forward a little. "Hypothetical situation here. Say you did totally knock him into a flashback and he was trapped back on that other phone call, reliving it. You know what he's like when he's locked into the past. Is that what he sounded like?"

Cuddy stopped blaming herself for a moment to remember. "No. But he knew something was wrong."

"Of course he did. You bend over backwards to try to avoid disrupting his sessions, and he knew you should have been here yourself, too. But did he accept your assurances of safety, or did he keep asking who was hurt and what were the details you were hiding?"

"He listened, but he got all worried on Thomas as soon as I mentioned that. I had to throw him on the spot there and demand a decision right away. He hates being backed into a corner emotionally."

"Two points, Dr. Cuddy. First, again, you didn't back him into a corner emotionally. Circumstances did. And second, even though I'm sure he was tense, he had a logical conversation with you and made that required decision, didn't he?"

A small point of warmth spread, like a candle lit within her, a spark of light in the worry. "He asked me if I trusted Thomas."

Patterson smiled at her. "He definitely trusts you. But it sounds like he was thinking. He was processing, doing his best to deal with this. I doubt he went charging straight out of there to try to drive a two-hour trip home in ten minutes flat. Michael wouldn't let him if he did try, but it doesn't sound like he tried. You don't have to worry about him driving back like crazy."

Cuddy shuddered. "I thought he was going to kill himself on the roads that last time. I was afraid to call, because I thought I'd distract him more, but I was just waiting for the phone call from an ER somewhere. I didn't know Jensen was driving him back; he had his hands full dealing with Greg and didn't call me. Which is what he should have been doing, but I remember just waiting for news after Greg dropped that call and took off."

"I realize how hard that night must have been for you. But think about what you just said. He dropped that call and took off. Think back to that call then; did he sound anything at all like he did just now?"

Cuddy's head came up as the point registered loud and clear. "No. He was barely responding to me that time, and even his answers didn't make sense and didn't go with my statements. I could tell he wasn't functional. And he literally cut me off and bolted out. I was trying to talk him into staying through the session, and he told me he was coming home ASAP." She smiled. "He didn't sound like that at all just now."

"Exactly. Like I said, it struck me from your side as a short and functional conversation. I'm sure he was reminded of the last time, and no doubt he is all tense over Thomas keeping the girls, but he wasn't overpowered by that or by the past. He was thinking, talking to you, making the decision that needed to be made."

"He's making progress," Cuddy confirmed. "He's really making progress."

"You both are. He's all right, Dr. Cuddy. If he's not safe to drive, Michael will handle it, but it sounds like he's doing a very good job of handling it himself so far."

Cuddy let out a deep breath. "Thomas sounded so thrilled to be asked. He's trying to be patient and not push, but I know he'll love the opportunity."

"I'm sure he will, and the girls will have fun with him. Rachel will probably wear the batteries out on her stuffed horse." Cuddy's expression changed almost imperceptibly at the word, and Patterson pounced on it, returning to her interrupted point. "Why does the horse coming bother you?"

"It doesn't bother me," Cuddy insisted. Patterson looked dubious. "They aren't the cleanest things around. I'll admit I was thinking of that when Thomas pulled out his bridle from the trunk and was letting the kids play with it. But I know Rachel is hooked on the idea. I don't even think he started that. She was fascinated with the horses last November, when we were watching a parade. Even liked them better than the floats. In fact, Greg mentioned that to Thomas, and that's why Thomas got her that stuffed horse in the first place for Christmas." She smiled, remembering the revelation about a month and a half ago that Thomas had actually been the source of that gift. Abby's handheld music computer, too. Both girls had thanked him, Abby more quietly but with her soft smile that added so much to it, and Rachel much more effusive, of course. "So you're Santa Claus?" she had asked.

"Rachel probably does have the horse bug. I think some people are just born that way. My best friend in school had it, and I used to tease her that she had a one-track mind."

"That's how you knew how many Breyer model horses there are," Cuddy realized, remembering Patterson's comment in the hospital about starting Rachel on a collection.

Patterson nodded. "It was hard being friends with Jeannie at times, because actually, I was afraid of horses myself." Cuddy raised an eyebrow, having a hard time seeing Patterson afraid of anything. "Yes, I was. Partly for practical reasons. You might have noticed how small I am and how big they are, and it worried me a little. The Breyer models were one thing, and those never bothered me, but seeing a live horse was something else entirely. But I finally realized that even more than legitimate worries about being stepped on or knocked over, it was just an irrational fear. I had to work to get over it."

Cuddy abruptly realized the point being suggested here. "I am not afraid of horses," she declared.

"Are you sure? Because your expressions and body language are reminding me an awful lot of myself."

"They call that projection," Cuddy countered, and Patterson gave her a nod, acknowledging the point good naturedly.

"It might be, but I think there's something more. How much exposure have you had to an actual live horse in the flesh?"

"Just once in childhood. There was a ride at some event, and Lyla insisted on doing it, even though the line was long. But then the horse jumped a little at a loud noise when she was about to get on, and she got her foot stomped."

"Did you ride yourself?"

"No, after Lyla got hurt, we ducked out of the line." The relief was written all over Cuddy's face and voice.

"Did you want to ride yourself?" Cuddy was silent. "In fact, was it Lyla's suggestion that you both go through the line and ride? With your parents watching? She might well have picked up on your tension and have been trying to score on it. Of course, if she suggested it, you wouldn't have wanted to back down in front of your parents. Dr. Cuddy, almost everybody has a couple of irrational fears. It's nothing to be ashamed of. My husband wouldn't hesitate to go into a burning building, but he was bothered by snakes. He said just looking at them made his skin crawl. He'd rather have faced a hundred fires than one snake, even a little garter snake."

"I am not afraid of horses," Cuddy repeated.

Patterson wasn't convinced. She gently, patiently kept chipping away at that subject a little, then finally backed off, leaving Cuddy to think about it, and they went back to talking about Thomas' arrival and the impact on her, not just the rest of the family.

Cuddy was thinking about horses in spite of herself as she left at the end of the session, thinking especially of one picture Thomas had shown them of him with his horse. He was standing at her head, holding the reins, not on her back in that shot, and knowing how tall Thomas was, it was easy to see the height of the mare with them side by side. Not a draft horse like the Clydesdales in the parade Rachel had admired, but quite tall even if lighter. Alive. Powerful. Coming tomorrow.

To distract herself and to settle her last remnant worry about her husband's physical safety, Cuddy called Jensen once she got to the car. He answered promptly. "Hello, Dr. Cuddy."

"Did Greg talk through things with you? Was he okay when he left?"

She heard the sympathetic understanding in his voice. "I can't tell you what happened in sessions. You know that. But I will tell you that I think he'll be home on time tonight."

She relaxed a little, knowing that he meant not early rather than not late. "Thank you. And you're driving home yourself?"

"Yes."

In separate cars. He didn't think he had to stay with House, and Patterson was right, he would have stepped up if he thought it was a question of safety. House did hate being backed into a corner emotionally, but at least he was dealing with it as well as anybody could hope for. "He's come so far," she said. "Thanks to you."

"No, thanks to him. He's done the hard work. I'm just a . . ." He paused, looking for a description.

"Sheepdog?" Cuddy offered. "He's described you as that before. He says you won't let him evade things."

Jensen chuckled. "I like it. Okay, I'm a sheepdog, trying to keep things going the desired direction. That works as long as we don't ever describe him as a sheep."

She laughed. "He's definitely not a sheep. But you're a wonderful sheepdog. Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome. Have a good night, Dr. Cuddy."

"You, too." She ended the call and started the car, heading home, thinking of her newly expanded family.