Family first

A.N. This note has nothing serious in it, but it's comically tragic and you should be aware of my writing conundrum: I've recently learnt that, in a lot of situations, I've been using hyphens (-) where I should be using an em dash (—). Insane, I know. Turns out there are 1200 hyphens in this story, many of which are technically incorrect.

If anyone's interested, hyphens are fine when connecting words (mother-in-law) or signalling an interruption in speech. But when substituting in for commas or colons ("it was a Dan Brown thriller—can you believe it?!"), they should be em dashes.

Now, I have several options. I can 'search' my giant Word document containing the whole story, and manually change each wrong hyphen to an em dash, but leaving the correct ones in place. This isn't a massive job in theory, except that to upload chapters to this site I need to keep each chapter as its own file, which is saved onto my machine in a 'Chapters' folder, and then uploaded. Thus, even though I can search my giant Word document for hyphens, and fairly easily change them all, I would then need to go through each individual chapter file in the site database and repeat the process. As you can imagine, this is a pretty grim proposition. I mean, for God's sake, it's 700 Word pages.

The second option is I begin using em dashes from now on, leaving in place the wrong hyphens from earlier entries. This would result in inconsistent punctuation which, I have to say, sticks in my craw something fierce.

The third option is I continue using hyphens wrongly, I pretend em dashes don't exist, and accept that, y'know, it's not such a big deal and life is too short.

The fourth option is that I slowly work my way through the files, changing in correct punctuation as I complete my normal re-reads. There'll be inconsistency for a while, but it'll work out in the end. I'm leaning towards this last option, because I really hate—and I mean hate—wrong punctuation (see what I did there with the, with the…em dashes?).

That is all. Please forgive this long note. I need a lie down and a stiff drink.


The fresh Chicago air greeted Cameron as she stepped off the plane and took a deep breath of home. Although her parents were loving and kind, it was just simpler for her to keep visits sporadic. Vacation time was rare, and that she did take tended to be spent on specific trips, to see faraway friends and places—if the Florida Keys, this year's only weekend holiday, counted as 'faraway'. But today (tonight) was the first of a full week she'd booked off. Time enough, hopefully, to reset her batteries and her priorities.

Carried along with the stream of people, she hit the arrivals lounge and saw her father waiting. Although she had been more than prepared to take a cab, he had insisted on collecting her himself. As soon as he spotted her, his face lit up in a wide smile and the latent misgivings she had about taking the time off melted away. Family was important, and no matter what she was going through at the moment, her parents would always be in her corner. A comforting thought.

"Well, if it isn't my favourite daughter", he grinned, wrapping her in a bear hug.

"Not your favourite child?", she smiled.

"Well, sure, but don't tell your brothers. Here, let me take those".

"Speaking of, are they expected tomorrow?". Cameron handed over her bags, two of which were stuffed full of presents, and they walked across the concourse to the airport exit.

"Martin's lot are, yeah, for dinner. Your older brother, though, is down south for Christmas before heading up here for New Year".

"OK". Cameron got on pretty well with both her brothers and their kids, though she could take or leave the wives. Experience taught that they invariably ended up trying to play matchmaker with various eligible men in their circle. Being a habitually single woman in a family of families was not always massively pleasant, but she supposed it was a decidedly first-world problem. So here she was again, single and absolutely not ready to mingle. If any member of clan Cameron attempted to fish for information in that regard, they would be sorely disappointed.

"So, how's Princeton?". The pair climbed into the car and set off, joining the pre-Christmas crush as commuters headed home for the holidays.

"Not bad. It's been pretty full-on these last two weeks or so. House has kept us busy".

"Yeah? How is Greg?", asked Paul carefully. To his knowledge, she didn't know about the chat with House the last time they met in person.

"Fine", she swallowed, looking out of the window as an excuse not to face her father, who, she could sense, had glanced across. Instead, she traced with her eyes the familiar shopfronts and streets as they swept past her sightline. Even at ground level, she could pick out Sears Tower and its Christmas-themed lights. This was her city.

"Allison".

"Mmm?". Still she looked outside at the falling snow, not recognising her father's tone.

"I'm sorry".

"Huh?". This did cause her to meet his eyes, which everyone said they shared. "You haven't done anything".

"Your relationship has ended".

"What? How did you-?".

"-call it 'fatherly intuition'. I knew something was up as soon as I saw you. You have the same expression as, as...before".

She sighed at this reference to the death of her first husband. Sometimes her dad could be annoyingly perceptive. "I really don't want to talk about it".

"Fair enough", he murmured, keeping his eyes on the road. "Though your mother will want to know".

"I don't care. I'm not talking about it".

Cameron senior held up a placatory hand and the two lapsed into silence as the heater blew loudly. "We'll always be there for you, sweetheart", he said eventually. "Whoever he was...".

She looked keenly in his direction. "If you perceived my mood, you know perfectly well who it was".

"I've a fair idea". With this, Paul allowed the matter to rest. But he turned over various thoughts in his mind. Given his daughter's deflation, it seemed abundantly clear that House had been the one to end things. The question was whether this had been as a result of their man-to-man conversation or some other reason. Whatever the case, although he remained convinced that House made the right call by walking away before things got too entrenched, it nevertheless caused a surge of guilt, even if long-term gain outweighed short-term pain.


Just as Cameron was disembarking from the plane in Chicago O'Hare airport, some seven hundred miles to the east House was still in his office doing nothing in particular. Most of the paperwork he had assigned himself had been completed, leaving just the fellows' performance reviews. This was a task he preferred to put off for as long as possible, not really wishing to think too deeply about their work. For one thing, it took enough focus at the moment simply to concentrate on his own stuff. For another, Foreman's words from earlier in the week (charging House with blaming his staff for failings that were of his own making) kept coming back to bite.

House sighed before spinning round and retrieving the bottle of whiskey stashed behind the lupus textbook. If you couldn't get your drink on at Christmas, when could you? There were no glasses to hand, so instead he used an empty coffee cup. He could recall the last time he (nearly) had recourse to this bottle: the night of his return to the hospital having disappeared for a couple of days. Cameron sat in his chair waiting. A good memory but no longer suitable.

Christmas Eve awaited outside these four walls, which is why he intended to remain here until adequately fortified with liquid courage. An empty apartment made no demands. As House poured himself a second cup of liquor, his eyes drifted to the present gifted by his Secret Santa, which lay on the floor by the desk. Originally intended as a bit of fun, it had taken place yesterday in a pretty strained atmosphere. House had planned to cause some Christmas mischief, but in the event hadn't been in the mood. And now Cameron was in Chicago, Foreman in New York, and Chase who knew where.

House sat back and closed his eyes, hoping to quieten his mind, but was quickly brought to by his vibrating phone.


When Cameron entered the family home, familiar smells and sights met her senses. No sooner had she taken a step into the hallway, Sandra came through from the kitchen and gave her a big hug. "Hi, darling, happy Christmas. Good flight?".

"You too, mom. It was fine", Cameron replied, handing the bag she had brought in to her dad, who took the rest of her luggage upstairs.

"Let me look at you". Sandra stepped back and placed a hand on each of her daughter's shoulders. "I'm happy you stopped colouring your hair; always thought blonde suited you better".

Cameron chuckled before attempting to move off, but her mother held firm, eyes searching the face of the younger woman, who made a questioning noise. "Mom? I'm gagging for a drink here".

"Hmm. You've lost weight since we saw you a month ago. Are you eating enough?".

"I think I am, yeah, but work's been pretty busy, so...".

"This is exactly why we asked Greg to let you keep normal hours". Sandra shook her head a little.

"It's the same for everyone, mom", she sighed. "The hours we work are the hours we work. It's not a nine to five thing".

"I know, I know. Sorry. I just worry about you is all".

"Honestly, I'm fine. Now, if it's all the same to you, I need a drink!".

"Then you came to the right place", she smiled, leading her daughter into the kitchen. "Your father's attempted mulled wine, but the jury's still out".

"What?". Paul had made his way back to join the women. "You said you liked it yesterday".

"I also said I'd go with you and Martin to the Bears game on Boxing Day so, yeah, go figure".

"What about you, honey?", asked Paul of his daughter, handing her a glass of freshly-concocted mulled wine. "Pigskin tomorrow? I'll even pay for your ticket".

"Hmm". On the one hand, Cameron wasn't a big sports fan, and a few hours at the game with thousands of frenzied Chicagoans hardly screamed excitement. On the other, however, her father had already informed her that the sister-in-law was due in tomorrow, and the prospect of spending Boxing as well as Christmas day in her company seemed inordinately worse. Besides, maybe a dose of mindless escapism would help her forget House for more than five minutes. "Sure, I'll go to the game with you. Might be fun".

"Truly, you are my favourite child, Allison", he grinned back.

"Yeah, yeah". While they spoke, Cameron couldn't help but notice how satisfied her dad looked, how content. When her parents had turned up at her apartment, Paul exuded a somewhat stern air, as if the presence of another man annoyed him. It was a shame House hadn't got to see her father as she did. And vice versa.

"Did you bring your clarinet?".

"No, why?".

"I thought we could have a bit of a play. You can use my spare one. I even have a fresh reed".

She remembered regretfully that she had never got around to playing music with House. There had always been something else to do. "Yeah, fine. I'm a bit out of practice, though", she said, taking a sip of wine to hide her face.

"No worries. When's food, San?", asked Paul, turning to his wife who was bustling around the oven.

"The chicken needs ten more minutes. You two head through to the living room and stick the TV on. I'll plate up and bring it across".

"You aren't making us eat at the table, mom?".

"Don't get too giddy", she laughed. "I just don't want you staining the tablecloth for tomorrow".

Father and daughter did as ordered, taking their drinks and moving off. "I'm glad you came back, Allison. We miss you, y'know".

Cameron looked fondly at the other, noting the lines in his face and the sparkle of his eyes. If family could cure lovesickness, she stood a chance. "Me too, dad. Me too".


"OK", said House, bursting into Cuddy's office, "what was so urgent that you called me here after-, oh, for fuck's sake".

"Sit down, House". Cuddy folded her arms and gestured to the sofa against the wall.

"Why the hell is Judas here?". House pointed at Wilson, who was perched in the easy chair.

"We need to sort this, Greg", he replied.

"Yeah, no, you can cut that first name bullshit out right now. There's nothing to sort".

"There is".

"No. There isn't. You betrayed me, made me doubt myself, and screwed up my relationship, the best thing in my life. Does that cover it?".

"Sit down", stated Cuddy flintily.

"It's Christmas Eve-".

"-I'm well aware what day it is. Christmas is a time for family and, right now, our family is in trouble".

"Good one. Now, if you'll excuse me-". House made to turn away, but was stopped in his tracks by the voice of his boss.

"-sit down!". Her tone was like thunder and she had that look on her face that brooked no resistance.

House hung his head but, slowly, stalked over to sit next to Wilson. There was nothing to be done: couples therapy was now in session. "Before we begin, do you at least have alcohol? You know I can only share feelings if I'm three sheets to the wind".

"As it happens, there is some sherry-".

"-fuck me, how old are you again?", laughed House bitterly.

"Apparently not old enough to have moved on from playground politics. Now", said Cuddy, eyeing both of her star doctors balefully, "who wants to start?".