A/N: Happy new year to all readers. Hope 2024 is filled with only good things. Well, okay, I can see House rolling his eyes there. Hope 2024 is filled with more good things than bad things and that everybody had an enjoyable Christmas or whatever December holiday you participate in.

This story WILL be completed, as I have said. Timetable is to a good bit out of my hands on that between two jobs, a few other pressing things, and some quite unstable medical situations in the family. In particular, my dad, with stage IV cancer, is now in another acceleration of same and declining. I did just get to travel to see him last week, which was good. But it was a bittersweet visit in ways, too, and things are unsettled. I'm trying to write a bit most evenings, but writing when you are dead tired doesn't turn out as well. But the story will be finished. If some of you want to stop reading it and just read it once done, I'd understand. I've always enjoyed the ride as much as the conclusion myself in reading, but yes, the conclusion will come.

As for the story, we now return to the House house. Well, actually, to the park. Enjoy! I made up the additional features on the swing, adding to ones I've seen, but I'm sure one could be constructed like that. I've always loved this scene in this story.

(HC)

Sunday dawned bright, sunny, and clear, if a bit chilly. It was a glorious day for February. The girls had been napping for part of House's absence on Saturday afternoon, but he couldn't deny that he had been distracted to some extent that evening, and he was determined on Sunday to make up for it, that this would be a day purely devoted to his family, in thoughts as well as presence. The good weather provided a great opportunity for one of their favorite weekend activities, going to the park.

The girls were enthusiastic at his suggestion. "Yay!" Rachel gave a little jump and squeezed the whinny ear on the stuffed Ember. "We can go to the park again! We haven't all been since Mama fell."

Cuddy looked down at that hated cast on her leg. The pain was negligible at this point, and her balance and skill on the crutches was steadily improving, but she remained annoyed at herself for the whole accident. The idea of going out to the park, particularly on a weekend when everybody would be there and would see her lame presence, didn't appeal to her at all, but she couldn't deny that they were overdue for a family outing. She hid her sigh.

As Thomas buckled the girls snugly into their coats, House came up beside her and spoke softly in her ear, a private comment inaudible a few feet away. "People won't be judging you for it, Lisa."

"I know," she replied, just as quietly. "But I just -"

He looked down at his cane. "I understand. Believe me."

She flinched. "I know you do."

"It's just harder to see from the inside yourself. But hey, we'll be a matched set. The lame parents. Most kids think their parents are lame at some point; we're just getting ahead of the curve. We're overachievers, after all."

She smiled, her mood fading at least partly against his quip. "Ready?" Thomas, having discreetly prolonged putting on the girls' coats as long as he could, came over. "All right, let's load up." House helped Cuddy into his coat and then grabbed his own, and they headed for the car.

Cuddy had had a few practice sessions by now getting used to driving using just one foot for both gas and brake, but today, House drove her SUV as usual when they went somewhere as a family. Thomas and Cuddy had a mild dispute in loading; normally, she went in back with the girls, and his long legs took up the passenger's side. Today, he firmly yielded the front to her, actually getting in back while she was still debating. Of course, he was really too tall to fit well back there, and once she hauled herself into the front, she slid the seat forward, giving him some space. House, for once the first to get in, sat there watching the disagreement with an amused expression that made her want to smack him.

Once at the park, they parked in their favorite spot with the disabled tag hung on the mirror. There was a bench nearby, one that House often frequented. Today, it got double occupancy, and he and Cuddy installed themselves there while Thomas took the girls to a nearby area with play structures. Sitting watching Thomas, the oldest of the five of them, frisking around like a puppy with his granddaughters, they gave a mutual sigh, then laughed at the coordination.

"We're a great set, sitting here feeling sorry for ourselves," Cuddy said. "But all those years I wanted a child, the idea of sitting watching even one of mine play in the park, much less two, would have seemed like a dream."

"Yeah." House watched his daughters. "I never dreamed of having kids for most of my life. Jensen thinks I was too afraid I'd screw it up to let myself want them. He mentioned that again last night at one point when I was updating him. Of course, he put it a little more professionally. He's probably right."

"He usually is." Cuddy reached over and took his hand. "But you are a wonderful father to them, Greg." They watched the girls for a few more minutes. "I can't help feeling sorry for Stacy, holding a hidden dream all these years."

"Lisa, probably 90% of America has held hidden dreams for years." He looked at his own unexpected, precious daughters, the gift he hadn't allowed himself to dream of. "But yeah, so do I. Feel sorry for her, I mean." He straightened up suddenly. "Ah, Abby's exploring new things. Hope the old man is in an explanatory mood."

"He loves every minute of it," Cuddy stated. They sat there, still holding hands, watching.

(HC)

"What's that?" Abby asked. She had noticed the difference on the swing sets for a while already but had wanted to play with some other things, and Rachel's energy was partially contagious. Still, she hadn't lost track of the thought, and now that some high spirits had been burned off already in their romp with their grandfather, she approached the swing set area.

Thomas hadn't stopped smiling for the last 15 minutes, but he smiled more broadly, enjoying her scientific bent. "That's a wheelchair swing, Abby."

"A what?" She studied the new structure that had been built next to the regular swing since their last visit. It had a platform floor and bumpers, and this one also, unlike some Thomas had seen, even had a taller back bumper with a fold-down bench seat and seat belts, so that a person could sit there, either a companion for the wheelchair rider or someone too disabled to use the regular swing with its motion of the legs but who could simply sit still with a stable floor. The whole thing looked custom made and was one of the most elaborate and well-designed ones Thomas had ever seen.

He led Abby over to it now. "See, Abby, if somebody is in a wheelchair, they can't use the regular swing. The chair won't fit there." She looked over at the standard one and nodded. Her grandfather had pushed the girls (gently given their young age, though they weren't aware of his restraint) many times on the swing. "So, they can roll the wheelchair in onto the platform. The bumpers and side rails hold it in. Then these chains will make it swing." He pulled a chain, letting her see the dynamics. "See, the floor stays stable. So, people in a wheelchair can appreciate swinging, too."

"Good!" she announced. Rachel, who liked to get hands-on in her exploring, had climbed into the thing, checking out first hand all the safety features and finally coming to that back, where the bench folded down out of the back drive-on ramp once it was upright and forming a rear wall.

"What's this, Grandpa Thomas?" She climbed up onto it, answering her own question.

"That is very neat. That's for people who are sort of medium disabled, who have problems with their legs that the regular swing would bother, but they aren't in the wheelchair yet. See, on the regular swing, it works the angle of your legs against the ground constantly." He sat down on the nearest regular swing seat, pushing himself through a few swings and demonstrating, then came to a stop and moved over. "Now watch." He sat on the bench, gathering Abby and Rachel to each side of him, and pulled the chain. "See? The floor angle never changes, and my legs are supported all the time. And since it's big enough for two people, a companion could be here with the disabled person to help support them." He stopped the chain-induced swinging and pointed to a plaque. "Can you read that, Abby?"

She scampered to it at once, proud of her reading prowess. Of course, her words were still slow, working it out, but for a three-year-old, she was remarkable. Haltingly, she read the inscription. "This ack - ack."

"Accessible," Thomas prompted.

"Accessible swing was placed in this park in memory of David Bowen by his parents." With effort, she reached the end of the lines.

"So, his parents donated this. It's very well constructed. Lots of kids will enjoy this swing."

Rachel, who had been going over all the swing's features hands on again while her sister read the plaque, turned to her grandfather. "Grandpa Thomas, could Daddy ride this one?"

"He -" Thomas skidded to a halt, unusually at a loss for words. Actually, Greg could. This would be less stressful than driving Ember in the buggy; this thing was very solidly built and nothing if not supportive. It was specifically made for people with leg disabilities. The bigger question, of course, wasn't whether his son could use this swing, but whether he would, especially on a Sunday with many people around in the park.

Abby had been making her own analysis. "Daddy could do this," she announced.

Rachel brightened up. "Then we could swing together." She turned and ran toward the bench, Abby shortly behind. Thomas followed. House had sat on the swings a few times while they were playing at the park, but really, the motion of doing anything other than sitting still was very hard on his leg. Now, the accessible swing had come, and to Rachel in her innocence, this was an opportunity, nothing more.

The two girls arrived in front of their parents nearly at the same time; Abby was gaining speed as she finally was gaining height. "Daddy!" Rachel announced. "They have a swing for hell leg now!"

Abby jumped in. "The parents gave it to the park. It will work. Won't hurt hell leg."

"So, you can swing with us now." Rachel tugged at his arm. "Come on!"

House, naturally, had worked out his daughters' mission before they were halfway to the bench and had been progressively cringing. "Rachel, Abby, I don't know if that's going to work."

"It will work," Rachel announced. "Grandpa Thomas said it wouldn't hurt hell legs. They made it that way." She pulled harder. "Let's go, Daddy!"

"Come on." Abby had his other arm now.

House glared at his father. "Thanks a lot, old man."

"I was just explaining it to them, Greg. In general, how it worked. This was their idea."

Cuddy was hiding her smile at his trapped expression. "Oh, go on, Greg. It will be fun."

He turned to her with a sudden resolve in his eyes. "Only if you do."

Her cast promptly tripled in weight, and the crutches were hard against her side. "Greg, I don't think I can -"

He shook his head. "As awkward as that cast is, Lisa, speaking strictly in terms of pain and touchiness, I've reclaimed the clear lead by this point. If it would work for me, it will work for you."

"But -" She looked around the park, all the people. She recognized his own sensitivity in herself at the moment, and she didn't like it. Truly, did it matter what all the people here thought? But if she should fail -

Looking up at Thomas, she said, "Do you really think this would work?"

"Yes, I do." The answer was definite. "That's very well made. I can't see any mechanical reason why it would bother either of you."

Rachel was nearly dancing at this point, one hand on her mother's arm, one on her father's. "Let's go now!"

"I wanna swing with you," Abby insisted.

House sighed and slowly hauled himself up from the bench. His look at Thomas held daggers, and Thomas read the thought. If this in fact wasn't possible, he knew that his son would blame him for causing this scene. Their relationship was improving steadily, but still, once in a while, the old uncertainty could rear its head. On his feet, House turned to Cuddy and extended his non cane hand, pulling her up. She got her crutches set, and slowly, they mutually limped the distance to the swing set.

Once there, of course, House had to inspect the structure himself, with Abby providing comments on this or that feature. He had to admit, this was extremely well made. He entered and sat down on the rear fold-down bench. It felt solid, and the platform was firm beneath his feet. He turned to Cuddy, and he from one side and Thomas from the other assisted her in. Thomas kept the crutches out with him. Abby and Rachel, once their parents were seated, climbed in and piled onto the bench, all four of them a tight fit now, but everything was stable.

"All set?" Thomas verified that himself, all the support braces firm, the sides up. "Pull the chain, Greg." He left it to his son to start the motion.

Slowly at first, tentatively, House started the swing. The bench was stable, the floor was solid, supporting his leg and Cuddy's. The angle for their legs never changed. The platform swooped through the air, gaining freedom as he did, now going a little higher, though not too high. Abby and Rachel laughed, and to her own surprise, so did Cuddy. Then House joined them. He couldn't help it. Back and forth, the family swung through the air together. Thomas, having backed off a few feet, pulled out his cell phone and took a picture.

(HC)

Stacy hadn't planned it. Really. But today, waking up to such glorious weather, she suddenly wanted to see House's children if possible. She knew he had meant his refusal yesterday, and trying to shake him off a decision he had firmly made was an exercise in futility. No, it would not happen; she grudgingly accepted that, but she still wasn't sure what she was going to do from here.

She made an excuse to Mark, noting the lie herself, fresh off House's criticism yesterday of lying to her husband, and she wondered exactly how often she did that. She hadn't thought it was a regular habit, just for times when needed, no more than most couples lied to each other, but this morning, she was a little surprised at how easy it was, how practiced she seemed to be. Once free of the house, she drove to the nearest park to Cuddy's old house, and she staked it out, parked in the middle of several other cars in the busy lot. She had changed vehicles since the last one of hers that he had seen, and she hoped that he wouldn't notice her just sitting among several other cars, a good distance away from the disabled slots on this fairly crowded morning. She stayed in the vehicle, pulled a scarf around her hair, and propped a book on the steering wheel, the picture of someone simply waiting in the car while the rest of her family was enjoying the facilities.

Of course, she didn't know that they would come to the park, but it was at least a reasonable guess on a beautiful weekend day. With Cuddy's fresh but not-too-fresh injury, they weren't likely to be making an expedition to some more involved attraction, but a quick trip to the nearby park to enjoy this weather, yes, that made sense.

She noted the SUV - he also had changed; that was a car she wasn't familiar with - pull into the edge-most disabled spot, and then the whole family got out.

And she watched. Rachel, all dark fire and energy. Abby with her obvious analysis and questions. Thomas Thornton, House's father, who almost seemed to have as much energy as the girls, obviously loving every minute of playing with them. Stacy watched him in naked envy. He was there, enjoying family life. Why couldn't she have a family life that she enjoyed? Why had it gone wrong?

Then, unbelievably, the girls talked House and Cuddy both into trying out the disabled swing. Stacy would have bet money before this day that he would never use a handicapped swing in his life, and she would have lost. He not only used it; he was, after initial stiffness, enjoying it. So was Cuddy. The father, the mother, the girls, having the time of their lives out there, laughing as the proud grandpa, apart but together with them, took a picture.

Stacy couldn't stand it anymore. She closed her neglected book, started the car, and fled.