This little extra chapter tells you the story of how Sarah entered the lives of House, Cuddy and Rachel.

Sarah

A casually dressed Lisa Cuddy located Greg House in his office at Johns Hopkins.

It was late, very late. He hadn't come home, but she hadn't expected him to. He had a case that'd he'd been working on for the last forty-eight hours. And judging by the fact he was staring at the symptom-laden whiteboard and tapping his cane on the floor, Cuddy knew it had yet to be solved.

Or so she'd thought.

"Hey," she said softly, drawing his attention as she stepped into the room.

He was sitting in a black Eames chair, his good leg propped up on the stool. She'd bought him the chair as a office-warming present when the Dean had appointed him head of the newly formed diagnostics unit — his unit — seven months earlier.

"Hey," he responded, an easy smile emerging, despite his apparent exhaustion.

"Your patient?"

"Babesiosis," he said and moved his foot so she could sit.

She propped her elbows on her knees and rested her chin on her clasped hands.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asked.

She cocked her head and smiled at him. "Couldn't sleep. The house was too empty."

He looked confused. "Rachel?"

"Sleepover at Hannah Draper's."

His confusion dissipated. "It's Friday," he said, as if just realizing what day it was, which he probably had.

"Technically, it's Saturday now," she said then studied his face and eyes, assessing him as he so often assessed her. He was better at it, but she was improving. "Your patient has been diagnosed for a while," she concluded.

"Yeah," he said. "I hadn't realized the time."

"So what's on your mind?"

He looked at her for a moment then reached for his cane.

"Take a walk with me."

Cuddy stood as he did and took his hand when he offered it. As they walked, she thought about how much their lives had changed.

In a little over a year, they'd gone from a clandestine meeting in a Scranton motel to both of them working at one the premier teaching hospitals in the country. He'd come back from the "dead," avoided prison, gotten his medical license back, and was drug-free. He had a job doing what he does best, and they were nurturing their family. They were weathering the bumps life threw at them together and growing closer as a result.

"Rachel won't be back until late Sunday afternoon," she told House as they strolled through the virtually vacant corridors. Hospitals always seemed to empty at night. They were definitely quieter.

This morning had been louder and crazier than usual, though. She'd been down in the ER on a consult when House had arrived to question an ER attending on his patient.

Not a minute into House's grilling of the other doctor, ambulances were arriving with victims of a multiple vehicle accident on the expressway. Nine in total.

House had moved out of the way as the other doctors abandoned all non-critical patients and began taking the several injured. Cuddy had watched him triage the new arrivals as they passed. She'd been able to tell by the look on his face which cases were futile.

He made his way over to where she stood then turned when another ambulance arrived and an attendant came in carrying a carseat with a squalling infant buckled in. With the other doctors busy, Cuddy took the carseat. She was surprised when House stepped in to help her without a word.

"No visible sign of injury," the EMT was saying as Cuddy set the carseat on the gurney. "She was in the back and the seat was secured properly, for a change. We put the neck brace on just in case"

"Parents?" House asked.

"They came in before us, but it didn't look good," the middle-aged woman said grimly.

Cuddy ordered a portable x-ray and with House's help, eased the child from the seat and laid her on the gurney. The EMT moved the carseat out of the way.

"She's about six months," House observed as he rested his hand gingerly on the infant's chest, just enough to keep the child from rolling around as her arms and legs flailed. She was crying loudly.

"Shhh," Cuddy shushed the baby, mothering instincts melding with her physician's instinct. She very lightly cradled the top of her head, fingers brushing the fine dark hair as she talked softly. "It's okay, sweetie. You're okay."

While she did that, House was asking for a name for the child. No one supplied it.

Then he did something that shocked her and the nurses. He leaned down over the baby's face and said sternly, "Stop."

The baby stopped, prompting Cuddy to looked at him in question.

"Picked that little trick up from a mob lawyer," he said.

Cuddy had completed the exam and they'd shipped her up to the nursery once they were satisfied the infant was unscathed.

When they entered the elevator, Cuddy looked up at him, waiting for him to respond to her the fact Rachel would be out of the house. Leaving them alone. But he didn't. That made her frown. House never missed a chance at sexual innuendo. Whatever was on his mind was clearly all-encompassing.

Cuddy knew what it was when they exited on the labor and delivery floor. Where the nursery was located. He drew Cuddy out of the elevator with him, still saying nothing. She held her own tongue and watched with fascination when he entered the nursery, sanitizing and slipping on a paper gown.

She followed suit, making her way with him through the rows of clear-plastic cribs holding blanket-bundled infants. He stopped at the one for the little girl from earlier. Cuddy noted the name on the side of the crib.

Sarah.

House stared at the infant, contemplative, for several minutes and she watched him, trying to divine his thoughts. Something about this baby had captured his attention.

"Is she okay?" she asked, fearing he'd caught symptoms they'd missed in the ER.

He nodded. "Perfectly healthy."

Cuddy looked back to the baby when he quickly jutted his chin in the child's direction.

"Her parents died," he said. "Social services is coming to get her tomorrow."

"No next of kin?"

"No. She was adopted," House said, his voice softer and quieter than before.

Her eyes seeking him out again, she saw he was still studying the little girl. His gaze wasn't remote or clinical, even curious. He was just looking at her, his expression thoughtful and…

"Is this your way of telling me you want us to adopt her?" she asked softly.

When he didn't answer right away, she knew she'd hit the nail on the head. She waited for him to find the words to tell her why he was entertaining the thought of adding to their family, something he'd never indicated an interest in.

They'd had a brief discussion one night in the doorway of Rachel's room, when she'd told him about the failed IVF and miscarriage, and then later asked her if she'd considered trying again. But the subject hadn't come up since. Until now.

"I was an only child. You weren't," he said after a few moments and she watched and listened intently. "When my mother dies, if I didn't have you and the kid, I would be alone. You have your sister."

"You're worried about Rachel being alone if something happens to us," she culled.

"Something will happen to us. Some day."

It wasn't a fatalistic observation but a logical one. They would die one day.

"She could live with your sister, have her cousins," he said, "but it wouldn't be the same."

"As Julia and I?"

"With your mother gone, you have each other."

That was true. Although things had been rocky at first, the drunken sleep-over had thawed the ice and they'd been talking again. And it was growing easier with each conversation. Julia had even invited them to visit for Hanukkah — House included. The invitation had been nothing short of a miracle.

"You want Rachel to have that. A shared lineage."

He looked at her, amused. "So to speak. You tend to take in strays."

She smiled back. Lineage wasn't exactly the right term. And she did take in strays, as it were.

"A bond then," she said then voiced a question that had to be asked. "Are you considering this only for Rachel?"

He shook his head. She saw his desire then and smiled. He wanted it for himself and for her.

"It's a lot of work," she advised him even as her heart skipped and fluttered wildly in her chest with the knowledge that House wanted a child, with her. To make a non-biologically driven choice, with her, to add to their family. To give Rachel a sister. To give this little girl named Sarah a home.

"I'll help," he said simply then began, "If you want this—"

He silenced when she laid her hand on his chest. The paper gown crinkled softly at the contact. It was audible only because of the hushed atmosphere of the nursery.

Cuddy started to speak but they were interrupted by a nurse who'd managed to move so quietly she hadn't heard her.

"Dr. House," she greeted.

This is not his first visit here.

"This is Dr. Cuddy," he introduced her to the nurse, who greeted Cuddy just as warmly as she had House.

"I was just about to hold her for a while. It's good for them when they're alone," the woman said, her voice unfailingly soft, motherly, and compassionate. "But if you'd like to…"

House answered for her, affirmatively, and the nurse drifted away.

Cuddy watched him in wonder as he stepped closer to the crib, hooked his cane over the side then gently lifted the sleeping infant with his broad hands. He turned to Cuddy and met her gaze.

"You know that if I do this, there'll be no turning back," she told him, her heartstrings tugging at the sight of the child nestled securely against his chest. Her arms were aching to hold the little girl that had captured some part of his heart, just as Rachel had. The strength of that desire took her breath away.

"It's your choice," he breathed in the space between them. "It's not a demand. I will understand if you don't—"

Cuddy held out her arms and he stopped talking. He carefully passed Sarah to her and nodded to the rocking chair in the nearby corner. Cuddy made her way over and sat. The nurse returned with a chair for House then disappeared into the shadows of the nursery again.

As she began rocking the little girl, Cuddy was swamped with memories of doing this very same thing with Rachel. Late in the night, after a change or feeding, in a darkened, quiet room.

Cuddy hummed softly to Sarah, just as she had Rachel, tears filling her eyes. She loved both the familiarity and newness of this moment in time. She hadn't forgotten how it'd felt but she hadn't exactly remembered either.

Looking up at House who was sitting directly in front of her, Cuddy said softly, "There's someone else we need to ask."

"Do you think she'll say no?" He didn't look concerned.

Cuddy smiled at him and shook her head.

"I'll call my attorney."