Patent disclaimer - only Shelly and Diedre are mine

.::8

Two weeks later

House checked his watch again and shifted in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. Beside him his mother rested comfortably, the tiny airline pillow nestled between the window and the seat to prop her head up correctly. He scrutinized her face critically, his doctor's eye searching for signs of strain or exhaustion after the harrowing few weeks she had endured, but he was satisfied that he saw nothing amiss. He rested his large hand atop one of her slim capable ones and leaned back in his seat to try and relax for the remainder of his trip. Unfortunately, House found himself wound up tighter than a spring at the anticipation of what he would find when he got back to New Jersey.

The call to Diedre had gone better than he had ever imagined. (If he did, in fact, ever imagine reuniting with a long lost child.) His daughter was smart, bright, and a combination of her mother's wit and her father's sense of humor. He had been nervous before their first official meeting the next day, knowing what a let down it must have been for Diedre to see him for the first time in such a wasted state. Shelly had brought her to the little lunch cafe, but only stayed until Diedre had felt at ease, and so House thought that the date had gone successfully with both he and his daughter talking over an hour about a myriad of things without needing a chaperone to get them through and help the conversation along. When Shelly had shown up later to collect Diedre he had felt the coolness of his anger return at the memory of her betrayal, but was actually a little impressed that she managed to appraise the successfullness of the meeting, comfort and praise her daughter, and telegraph her thankfulness to House with only a few simple words. Diedre surprised him by flinging her arms around him before they parted, but no more than he surprised himself by returning it just as enthusiastically.

Glancing over at the slumbering form beside him, House thought about the call he had made to his mother with the news of Diedre and he sobered again. His mother's tears and speechlessness he had expected, but the contented and relieved sigh afterwards was one that puzzled him, and so he had questioned it.

"You knew about this?"

"Oh, Greg. Your friend James had mentioned his suspicions of something like this being the case years ago. You know its always been a dream of mine that you would someday have children. I just can't believe that it's actually true."

And so again, he bristled at the thought of anyone feeling the need of shielding him from the truths of his own life.

The days afterwards were a blur. Blood tests, scans, stress tests, psych consultations, pain management consultations, and phone call after phone call that accumulated to a subdued but more peaceful-looking Wilson showing up on his doorstep with an entrance packet and a small clasp of the hand.

"You're in, House."

Then House was on a plane to California, headed for the rapid detox facility, and hopefully on his way to sticking around until Diedre graduated high school. At least. What had surprised him was meeting his mother at the airport, and having her explain to him that he couldn't dissuade her, she was already booked in a room at the hotel next door to the hospital he would be staying in for the duration. And so she did. Although more than a little embarrassed at having his mother accompanying him in his most unglorified hour, feeling her cool hand on his brow or the wet cloth she pressed against his chapped lips while he hung suspended in the shadowy regions of consciousness during his detox was a comfort to him. And her quiet but rock-steady presence through the harrowing days afterwards kept him going when he would have quit if he was doing it alone. Besides the requisite counseling and physical therapy mandated by the program, House had undergone a first attempt try to save his liver with stem cells. Shelly had shipped Diedre's cord blood out to meet him in California, and so two days after awakening from one medically induced slumber, he was back under anesthesia again receiving another gift afforded by his daughter. All the while Blythe nursed and cared for her grown son, her calming presence working his magic not only on his own abrasive personality but on the staff as well. So bringing Blythe back with him to meet her only grandchild seemed like the least House could do for his mother, and Shelly had been all for it when he had called and explained the plan.

Shelly. Just the thought of her name stirred up a ferret's den of emotion inside him. Anger, resentment, disbelief, longing. He still couldn't find it in his heart to completely forgive her for how she had hidden Diedre from him, even after the therapist at the Waismann clinic had pointed out that House really just used Shelly in a sense. House had been the one to dictate the terms of both of their relationships, both at Michigan and later in Princeton, during neither of which he was awarded any points for consistency or giving her a sense of security. The therapist wasn't surprised that Shelly kept their child under wraps all these years, finally finding the one point of their relationship where she could take control. Inwardly, House grudgingly conceded his point but resolved to keep Shelly at a distance as much as possible. There was just something about her that still haunted him at night, when all of his body parts should be at rest.

House traced the outline of the pain patch covering his thigh when the plane shifted in the air. He glanced at his watch again, this time being interrupted by the voice on the loudspeaker announcing that they were about to begin their descent into Philadelphia International Airport. There was a general rousing of the other passengers at the news, and House squeezed his mother's hand to awaken her so that she could prepare for the landing. Blythe roused as her son texted the news of their approach to his daughter's cell phone, and after fixing her hair, fastening her seatbelt, and trying to banish both the wrinkles as well as the imaginary crumbs off of her blouse, House had to grab her hands again to keep her from fussing.

"Stop being so nervous. You're the only grandmother she'll ever know, so relax. She'll like you. If she can like an old dying man as her father, I think you've definitely got it made." Blythe's face hardened at her son's failed attempt at humor and she pulled out of his grasp.

"I don't find the dying bit very amusing, Gregory. I didn't just sit on my rear for two weeks in that God-awful hospital chair to let you slip away. You have your daughter to live for now, so I expect to see a concerted effort on your part."
House hung his head a bit with the admonishment, and just gave her a small nod. Satisfied her 'boy' had gotten the message she brightened and took his hand again. "Now, tell me again what she looks like. Do you really think she takes after me?"

House looked at the unconcealed excitement on his mother's face and smiled before trying to re-describe Deidre as their plane glided down through the clouds.

Ten minutes later he was weaving through the throng of rushing travelers with his mother at his side as they made their way to the exit point. As they neared the opening, he spotted the tall head of his daughter as she scanned the crowd.

"Mom, look," he said, indicating the nervous teenager with a nod of his head. "Do you see her? That's your granddaughter."

Blythe gave a little gasp and clutched onto his arm for a moment.

"Oh, Greg. She's beautiful! And I can see it. The resemblance. Oh! I just can't believe you have a daughter! I have a granddaughter!"

At that moment, Diedre spotted them, and threw her arm over her head as she waved, her whole body swaying with the motion. House picked up his pace to match Blythe's fast clip and soon they were stepping through the checkpoint, and Diedre was launching into his arms again.

"Hello sweetheart," he whispered into her hair. House squeezed her close for a moment to relish the feeling that came over him, and then turned her towards his mother. "Diedre, I want you to meet your grandmother, Blythe House." Young and old came together eagerly, and House turned away from the sight of all the happy tears to look for Shelly. He spotted her tucked out of the way of the pedestrian traffic, unobtrusively surveying the scene. As his eyes met the fear in her cool brown stare, he answered the silently telegraphed question with a shake of his head. Shelly didn't need to be told the results of the cord blood transplant, she could tell just by looking at him. House watched as the mother of his child hid her fear and slipped on a mask of polite excitement before coming over to join the group. This time, he let his admiration for Shelly's strength and resolve linger in his consciousness. They were going to need all the strength they could muster if the next few weeks were anything like he thought they would be. House was running out of time.

-tbc