House is having a good day. One of those rare days where he has nothing to complain about. His pain is at a minimum and his team solved a case in less than four hours, giving him time to plan a spontaneous date night with Cuddy.

He's shocked by how fast Cuddy agrees to spontaneous date night, despite her busy schedule. His only prerequisite assignment is to find a babysitter for Rachel. It almost falls apart when he realizes it's Marina's day off, and Wilson claims to already have plans. House is about to blackmail Chase into the job when he thinks to call Julia. As much as he doesn't want to involve Cuddy's family, now or ever, House knows Julia will be easy to convince. Predictably, she agrees to the job only two sentences into his speech about how badly Cuddy deserves a night out.

So House picks Rachel up from school, drives her to Julia's, and makes his way back home with a bouquet of flowers that he actually bought, rather than stole from a coma patient. He walks in on Cuddy getting ready, sneaks up behind her, starts kissing her neck as she tries to put in an earring. He intends it only as a preview of things to come, but he can't be held responsible for what happens after Cuddy turns around and pushes him back onto the bed. He isn't going to object to them having sex before Cuddy even finishes drying her hair.

Eventually they make it to dinner, where there's hand-holding, teasing, laughing, and bantering. Always bantering. But there's also an air of domesticity to it. Cuddy looks at him with warmth as she tells him about her day. House doesn't even mind listening to the mundane details about scheduling conflicts and MRIs malfunctioning, because Cuddy somehow makes every story interesting. And sometimes House still can't believe he's the one she tells all her stories to.

The whole night is perfect. Or as close to perfect as House believes exists. Until they pick up Rachel on the way home, that is. Because the second she gets into the car, House and Cuddy can both tell that something is off. She's not crying or throwing a tantrum, but she's uncharacteristically subdued. Rachel is always annoyingly hyper after she spends time with her cousins and House is surprised by how much the change in behavior worries him.

"You okay back there, little Cuddy?" he asks, glancing at her through the rearview mirror as he drives. She doesn't answer, only shrugs— even the tiny movement of her shoulders seems like it takes all of her energy.

"Did something happen at Aunt Julia's?" Cuddy questions, equally as concerned.

"No," Rachel says quietly.

"That wasn't even a little bit convincing," House tells her. "You used to be a much better liar."

"Not a liar," she insists.

"In fairness to you, I'm always cranky after being forced to hang out with Julia and Arlene. And it was only a matter of time before you realized how much better you are than your bratty cousins."

"House," Cuddy warns, but she's also smirking, because they both know he isn't wrong. "Be nice."

"Come on, Cuddy. Admit it. You love that Rachel is the only well-behaved kid in your family. And you love that everyone knows it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she feigns ignorance, before turning around to look directly at her daughter. "Are you tired, honey?"

"Yes, mama."

"Just close your eyes then. We're almost home."

—\—

House takes Rachel out of her car seat and carries her inside, like he's done hundreds of times before. Rachel loves being carried by House, and often demands that he pick her up even in scenarios where she's clearly capable of walking herself. But now, as Cuddy trails behind them, she swears Rachel looks panicked and squirmy in House's arms. Cuddy cannot for the life of her figure out what's going on, but she's growing increasingly anxious.

"I'll put her to bed and meet you in a few minutes," Cuddy says, taking Rachel from House. She carries Rachel to her room and helps her change into pajamas before tucking her in.

"Are you ready to tell me what's bothering you?" She asks, sitting on the edge of the bed, and pushing some of Rachel's hair behind her ear.

"Dunno," Rachel answers, avoiding eye-contact, and looking sadder than Cuddy can ever remember seeing her.

"I don't want you to be upset. And I bet I can help with whatever it is."

Cuddy lets Rachel think about it, wanting her to come to the decision to share on her own. Finally, her daughter looks up at her. "Is House gonna die?" she asks, bottom-lip quivering.

"What?!" Of all the things Cuddy expected, she was in no way prepared for that question. "Of course not. Why would you think that?"

"Cause Grandma said."

"What...what did Grandma say?"

Instead of answering, Rachel bursts out crying. Full blown, red-faced, hyperventilating. Cuddy scoots closer, pulls her daughter into her arms, and gently rubs her back. "Rachel, you need to breathe. House isn't going anywhere. He certainly isn't dying."

"But Grandma said he was sick and that his leg had blood stuck in it and that he took too much medicine."

The explanation comes out quickly, almost sounding like one long word. Cuddy tries to process the information while also controlling her own emotions — she feels rage simmering right beneath the surface, but she can't let Rachel see or sense that.

"No, baby. No. He's okay. I promise you. Just breathe."

Ironically, that very night, Cuddy marveled at the color in House's cheeks as he sat across the table from her, bright life in his eyes. She still remembers the pale, dark circles that used to mark his face, the way he was always slightly shaky from Vicodin or lack of sleep. These days he looks strong and healthy— people just meeting him would never know that he's been to hell and back again and again.

"Do you think you can tell me exactly what happened?" Cuddy asks, once Rachel's breathing returns to a slightly more normal rhythm. "I want to understand why Grandma would say something like that."

Rachel sniffles a few more times before composing herself enough to tell the whole story. "I was sleepy in the car, so when we got to Aunt Julia's, House carried me inside. It made Grandma so mad. When he left she said I shouldn't let him carry me 'cause he had a clot of blood and he could drop me and hurt me."

"She said that to you?"

Rachel nods. "I asked Aunt Julia what's a clot and she said your blood gets stuck and makes you sick. I don't want House to have his blood stuck 'cause of carrying me."

Cuddy wishes she had more time to carefully phrase what she has to say, and she already knows she'll never forgive her family for taking away that opportunity. All she can do now is try her best to tell the truth without the horrific details. "I want you to listen to me carefully, okay? House did get sick, but that was a long, long time ago. It was before you were even born. He's not sick anymore. Grandma and Aunt Julia aren't doctors, so they don't know anything about this. I do."

"But it still hurts? Aunt Julia said that's how come he walks different."

"Sometimes his leg still hurts, yes. We had to... take out a part of the muscle in his thigh to make him better. That's why he limps, but his cane helps him."

"I feel dumb 'cause I never thought about him being hurt even though he has a cane."

"That's not dumb. You see House for who he is, not how he walks. That's a wonderful thing."

"Does it hurt his leg when he picks me up?"

It's not a simple question to answer. Cuddy knows it's not always easy or comfortable for House to carry Rachel. She also knows that it's not for her to decide his physical boundaries.

"House carries you because he wants to," she explains. "If he ever says no, you have to listen, because it means he needs to rest his leg. But if he says he'll pick you up, he can do it. You can trust him to decide. And he would never, ever hurt you."

"I like when he carries me."

"I know you do. He's pretty strong, right?"

A small smile returns to Rachel's lips. "Yes, and his arms are so big."

"They are," Cuddy laughs in agreement. "Grandma shouldn't have been talking about him. It wasn't very nice of her and it's a bad example. I'm sorry you had to hear that."

"I don't wanna go there anymore if they're mean to House. I'll stay with Marina or with you at work."

"I understand. I'll talk to them. I don't want anyone to be mean to House either."

"Cause you love him."

Cuddy isn't sure if it's a question or statement. Either way, she knows exactly what to say. "I do. Very much."

"Me too."

"You love House?"

"Very much," Rachel parrots back.

It's not necessarily a surprise. Cuddy has been aware of Rachel's attachment to House for quite some time. Even so, hearing it verbalized in the strongest possible terms hits her hard, almost moving her to the point of tears. "He loves you, too. I honestly think you're his favorite Cuddy."

"You're Cuddy," Rachel corrects, like it makes all the difference in the world. "I'm little Cuddy."

Cuddy gazes adoringly at her daughter and recognizes the signs of loving House unconditionally all too well. She hugs Rachel extra tight and whispers, "you sure are."

—\—

"Did you find out what's wrong?" House asks as soon as Cuddy walks into the bedroom. He's sprawled out on the bed, mind honed-in on the mystery of Rachel's strange behavior.

"I did."

"And?"

"How about I tell you tomorrow?"

House is suspicious right away. There's no good reason Cuddy would want to put off telling him and her reluctance only makes him more curious.

"How about you tell me now?"

"Don't you want to continue what we started earlier?" She asks seductively.

"Yeah, but the way you're blatantly trying to distract me with sex is only making me want to know more."

"I am not trying to distract you with sex." But as she says it, Cuddy pulls her dress over her head and stands before him in her underwear.

House almost falls for it, because half-naked Cuddy will never lose her impact on him. He manages to stay focused though, needing to solve the puzzle. "Are Patty and Selma going to tell me what happened?"

Cuddy sighs, knowing him well enough to accept defeat. "I wanted this night to end as amazing as it started."

"Why would you telling me why Rachel's in a bad mood ruin the night?"

Cuddy walks over to the dresser, grabs one of House's t-shirts out of the second drawer and puts it on. She takes a deep breath, hands resting on her hips. "Rachel was upset because she was worried about you. My mom made a comment to her about your leg. Julia was involved, too. They confused her and made her think you're sick now."

House is taken aback— he gets off the bed and walks over to her. "Why the hell were they talking about…"

"Apparently my mom didn't like that you carried Rachel inside."

"Because of my leg?! I've carried grocery bags heavier than Rachel. I think my bowling ball is heavier than Rachel."

"I know."

"She was half asleep when we got there. I didn't…"

"House, stop. You didn't do anything wrong. You of all people know my mother is an irrational nightmare."

Arlene is a nightmare, but House hates that she got the kid involved this time. "What did Rachel say?"

"She asked me if you were going to die."

"Nice work, Arlene. Really top-notch babysitting."

"And Julia tried to explain blood clots to her. So obviously Rachel had no idea what really happened to you."

"Never-worked-a-day-in-her-life-Julia-Cuddy tried to explain my infarction? Instead of telling Rachel to ask her own mother, who's a doctor and was there when it happened?"

"She did," Cuddy confirms, full on ranting. "And then she didn't even bother to give me a heads up that she had this conversation with my daughter. You'd think she'd mention it when I went inside to pick Rachel up. But no, because that might get her in trouble with mommy dearest."

"Is Rachel still upset?" House asks, refocusing on what matters.

"I got her to calm down, but she doesn't want to go over there anymore. She's mad at them. And pretty defensive of you, by the way."

House would appreciate it, but Rachel shouldn't have to be defensive of him. It doesn't sit right with him. And then he starts to wonder how they've gotten this far without telling Rachel about his infarction themselves. "You've never talked to her about my leg before?"

"I haven't," Cuddy admits. "Maybe I should've, but I didn't want to push an explanation on her for something that she didn't seem concerned about. She's never asked or even mentioned it."

"What'd you tell her tonight?"

"A kid friendly version of the truth — that you got sick a long time ago, but that she doesn't have to worry. I said that sometimes your leg still hurts, but you can carry her anytime you want to."

"Good."

House is relieved he wasn't there for the conversation, even if that makes him a coward. He wouldn't have been able to do it, to watch Rachel's face as she learned about his past and the way it still impacts his present. He's grateful that he trusts Cuddy enough to tell the story. She's probably the only one he would trust to tell it right.

"I'd like to call my family," Cuddy says, pulling him out of his thoughts. "You're the one who always tells me that I need to stand up to them. I don't think this is something I can let go. Not even until tomorrow morning."

"I don't care what they say about me, Cuddy."

"But Icare how they treat you. And they don't get to parent Rachel. This was so far over the line."

House has to agree, even though he knows Arlene has been over the line several times before tonight. Cuddy just hasn't been able to see it until now, because she's far more protective of him, and of Rachel, than she is of herself. There's no point trying to stop a determined Cuddy, and he wouldn't even want to. So he picks up her cell phone from the nightstand and hands it over to her, knowing that Arlene is in for a world of hurt.

—\—

"Is mom still at your house?" Cuddy asks as soon as Julia picks up.

"She is. Why?"

"Can you get her and put me on speaker phone?"

"Sure. Is everything okay?"

"Just get mom."

Cuddy also has the call on speaker, so that House can listen to the conversation. He doesn't know if it's because she wants him to hear it, or because she needs his support.

"Okay, we're both here," Julia confirms a few seconds later. "What's going on?"

"Anything you forgot to mention about Rachel's visit today?"

"What do you mean?"

"You told her about House's leg. Or maybe I should say you attempted to, because you did a horrible job."

"She asked," Julia defends. "Seriously, Lise. How have you not told her?"

"How have I not explained what an infarction is to a five-year-old? Are you kidding me? And she only asked because mom said..."

"He shouldn't be carrying Rachel," Arlene cuts off unapologetically. "I did say that, and I stand by it."

"That's absurd and completely insulting, mom."

"How is it insulting to acknowledge that he has a disability?"

"He's the one who decides the limits of that disability. Not you. And for the record, he carries Rachel all the time."

"That's exactly my concern. Maybe he used to be able to, but she's getting bigger. Have you seen the way he carries her?"

"I have. There's nothing wrong with…"

"It has to make it a lot harder for him to walk, when it's already hard for him. Aren't you worried he'll lose his balance?"

"No. Rachel is safe with House. He knows what he's doing."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. He carries things a lot heavier than her. Including me, by the way."

"Oh, please," Arlene scoffs. "If he drops you off the bed he's not going to kill you. He could kill Rachel if he drops her headfirst on your sister's walkway."

Even though this fight is technically about him, House was planning on staying out of it. But the suggestion that he would ever hurt Rachel, combined with the wounded look on Cuddy's face, quickly changes his mind.

"Here's an idea," he says with barely contained fury. "If you have a problem with something I do, why don't you ask me about it, instead of unloading on an innocent kid?"

"Greg," Arlene acknowledges. "I didn't know you were here."

"Of course he is!" Cuddy snaps. "He's always here. That's how I know how good he is with my daughter."

"And he's, what exactly, to her?"

It's a heavy question posed to them on the spot. One they haven't talked about as much as they maybe should've.

"He's my partner," Cuddy decides. "I trust him. So does Rachel. And you can't be around her if you're going to try to make her doubt him."

"You're going to punish us by saying we can't do you a favor by babysitting? Because the two of you are always at work? Okay, Lisa. Go ahead. Let's see how long that lasts. You won't make it a week."

"Bad idea," House warns. "Never underestimate a stubborn Cuddy. Or the next time you'll see Rachel is at her high school graduation."

"If you don't kill her before then."

"Do not speak to us unless it's with an apology," Cuddy fumes. "I mean it."

House has seen her this angry before, but only on rare occasions. She hangs up, literally throws the phone across the room in frustration, turns to grab him by the waist. "I'm so, so sorry."

"What the hell are you sorry for?"

"She's my mother. Hearing her talk to you like that...it makes me feel physically sick."

He doesn't need Cuddy to feel guilty, in fact it's very the last thing he wants. "Luckily I only care about the Cuddys under this roof."

"You're sweet."

"Yes, that is my reputation," he quips. "You okay?"

"Yeah, except my head is throbbing now. Are you?"

"I'm fine."

House picks Cuddy up without warning, like he has something to prove. He hates himself for feeling that way, for letting Arlene impact his thought process for even one single second. Cuddy looks at him like she knows exactly what he's doing, but she doesn't call him out on it. She lets him carry her to the bed, and curls up to him as soon as he places her down and joins her under the covers.

"I can't believe you planned a whole night for me and this is how you get repaid," she says, guilt still apparent.

"I guess it's a good thing we had sex before dinner," he jokes.

"Let the record show I tired to let you have sex again before I told you what happened."

"It was a noble effort."

The light-heartedness is needed, because it gives House something else to focus on. He's grateful to Cuddy for playing along, for always knowing what he needs and when he needs it. He can focus on the jokes. He can focus on Cuddy's hands resting on his chest. Anything not to focus on the things Arlene said.

—\—

"House."

He's only half conscious when he vaguely registers a voice calling out to him. He assumes it's Cuddy, but when he forces his eyes open, he sees that she's still very much asleep. For a brief moment he wonders if maybe he dreamed her saying his name, but then he senses that they're not alone in the room. He looks to his right and finds Rachel standing next to his side of the bed anxiously staring at him.

"House," she repeats in a frantic whine. "I'm scared."

"What's wrong?" He whispers, as he leans over to help her up. The second she's in the bed, she forcefully wraps her arms around his neck and her tiny legs around his torso. "Why are you scared?"

"Bad dream," she mutters into his shoulder. "There was a big monster."

"Monsters don't exist."

He feels hopelessly awkward when it comes to comforting her, though she never seems to notice his shortcomings. Still, he's baffled as to why Rachel came to him for help and wishes more than anything that Cuddy would wake up and take over.

"I saw it," Rachel insists. "It was in my room."

After the night Rachel has had, House knows it's important not to screw this up. He reminds himself to be patient, though it goes against his instincts.

"Nope. You didn't see it. You think you did, but your sleepy brain made it up."

"But...the monster got you," Rachel tells him. "In my dream. Hurt you. Saw it."

The incomplete sentences explain so much, so quickly. House understands why Rachel came to his side of the bed, why she purposefully sought him out. As House realizes that Rachel is making sure he's safe, that she's scared because she doesn't want him to be hurt, he feels his stomach tighten in knots. Any deluded notion he had of avoiding the emotional toll of Arlene's actions instantly vanishes.

"It wasn't real," he manages to get out. "I'm fine."

"Felt real."

Her voice gets higher, and more panicked. He has to change strategies if he's ever going to calm her down. And while he'll never be one to coddle Rachel with fairytales, he figures it's okay to provide her with a strictly hypothetical scenario.

"Do you think your mom would let monsters come near either one of us? Do you have any idea how scary she is? If monsters did exist, they would see her and run for the hills."

"Mommy's not scary," Rachel protests. "She's nice."

It doesn't help his argument that Cuddy is sleeping so peacefully next to them, looking all angelic and perfect, but House persists.

"She's nice to us. To everyone else she's tough and scary. And she's only nice to me at home, at work she's mean to me too. That's why she's the boss. Monsters wouldn't want to go after the boss. If monsters were real, which they're not, they'd only go after wimps. Which means they'd probably be at Wilson's house. Absolutely no one is scared of Wilson."

Rachel laughs, which feels like a huge victory. She loosens her grip slightly. "Can I sleep in here?"

"Sure. You want to get in the middle?"

The few times Rachel has climbed into their bed before, she's always nestled her way in between them. "No," she shakes her head. "Wanna stay here."

"On my chest? You sure? Seems kind of uncomfortable."

"I'm comfy."

"Alright," House agrees, knowing he's not going to change her mind. "I guess you're sort of like a tiny, weighted blanket. Your mom is always harassing me to try one of those."

He readjusts so that he's fully lying back down. His heart is racing so fast, he has no idea how Rachel manages to fall asleep on top of him less than ten minutes later.

—\—

"Do you think Cuddy worries about my influence?" House asks from the couch in Wilson's office the next morning. He only managed to sleep for three hours, and hasn't stopped replaying the previous night's events in his mind.

"Yes."

"Do you think she worries about my influence on Rachel?"

"Wait," Wilson says, looking up from the blood work he's reading through. "I thought you were talking about your influence on getting Cuddy to agree to things that could burn down the whole hospital. I didn't know you were being serious. What happened with Rachel?"

"Arlene happened. She said a bunch of stuff about me being around Rachel."

"Seriously?"

"Why does that surprise you? You've met Arlene."

"Yeah, but you're great with Rachel. Was Cuddy a pushover?"

"Nope. She told Arlene off and now they're not speaking." Despite his distress, he still feels pride in Cuddy's reaction under pressure. "She also called me her partner."

Wilson looks at him like he's stupid. "And that's breaking news to you?"

"She usually says boyfriend. You think she meant it? Or was she just trying to make it sound fancy and official to Arlene?"

"She meant it. You two have been an old married couple since about a month after you started dating. Actually, you were an old married couple before you started dating."

House chuckles, because he knows it's true. "Fair point."

"If Cuddy stood up for you, why are you worried about this?"

"Because it doesn't mean she's not going to start considering what Arlene said. She had reservations about me being around Rachel in the beginning."

Cuddy doesn't deserve his doubt, but sometimes he can't help it. A whole lifetime of loss and betrayal and pain has trained him to believe the worst case scenario is also the most likely. Besides, it would make complete sense for things to go wrong, for him to lose them, a day after allowing himself to indulge in something dangerously close to domestic bliss.

"Cuddy had reservations for about a minute and a half," Wilson reminds him. "Then she tossed you in head first with Rachel and hasn't looked back since. What did Arlene even say about you?"

"She was pissed off that a guy with only one functioning leg was carrying her grandkid from the car to the house."

Wilson's jaw drops. "No."

"Yup," House confirms. "True story."

"Wow. Arlene is horrible."

"I have no idea how Cuddy turned out to be…. Cuddy. It doesn't make any sense that she's so awesome."

"She is awesome," Wilson agrees. "Which is why you cannot possibly think she worries about your leg being an issue with Rachel?"

He's right, of course. Cuddy acknowledges his pain when he needs to be validated, but never lets it define how she sees or treats him. House is sure she's never thought twice about what his leg means in relation to Rachel's life.

"House," Wilson continues, sensing the insecurity behind his silence. "Cuddy trusts you for a reason."

"And what exactly is that reason?"

"Because you've earned it. I've seen it. Cuddy's seen it. Even Rachel has seen it, which is why she wants you carrying her in the first place. Please don't be a moron about this."

House groans, because he doesn't want to be a moron. In fact, he desperately wants to avoid it. He just wishes it wasn't so hard.

—\—

House sits at his desk, trying to focus on his patient's symptoms. He closes his eyes and tries to think of bronchospasms. Not Arlene's shrill voice judging him through the speaker phone. Not Rachel clinging to him in fear. Bronchospasms. Fever. Joint pain. Things he might be able to do something about, things he has a chance to control.

"House?"

He opens his eyes and Cuddy is standing in his office. It's a sign of how distracted he is that he didn't hear the telltale sound of her heels walking down the hallway.

"Hey," he greets her, expecting an update about his case. "We get the wife's permission for surgery?"

"Not yet. But Rachel's school called. She's at the nurse's office with a stomachache. Apparently she's been crying on and off all morning. They asked me to come get her."

"You've got that donor meeting, right?"

"I'm going to try to reschedule. If Rachel's upset or sick I don't want to send Marina. I should go myself."

"Don't reschedule," House says, before he thinks through what he's offering. "I can get Rachel and bring her here."

"Really? What about the case?"

"Going to pick her up might help the case. I need a change of scenery and Rachel could say something useful. My team of idiots haven't said anything useful all day. Taub brought up lupus ten minutes ago."

"If you're sure," Cuddy looks at him skeptically. "I'm sorry about all this."

"Can you stop being sorry?" It's been less than twenty-four hours and he's already sick of her apologies, as well-intentioned as they might be. "I don't mind doing Rachel related things."

"I know that," Cuddy grins at the confirmation. "But I also know last night was... a lot. You'll tell me if you…"

"Start to freak out?" He knowingly completes. "Feel the need to move to Canada and change my name?"

She leans across the desk and kisses him. "If you need anything— like a break, or to talk."

"I need you naked later."

"So, it's a day that ends in y?" She teases. "Bring Rachel to my office when you two get back, okay?"

"Yes, mom."

—\—

House has picked Rachel up from school plenty of times, but only at dismissal. He's used to waiting for her in a ridiculously well-organized line in the parking lot and seeing her half-run towards his car with her backpack falling off her shoulder. He's never had to go inside and sign her out like a responsible adult. Thankfully the process is easy enough and requires very little human interaction. He locates a still red-eyed Rachel sitting on a bench outside the front office.

"House!" She perks up the second she sees him. He can tell right away that although she's been crying, she doesn't appear sick.

"You ready to bust outta this joint?"

"Yes," she takes his hand as they walk outside together. "Can we get ice cream?"

"Aren't you supposed to have a stomachache?"

Her eyes widen and she stops short in her tracks, almost tripping over her own two feet. Her deer in the headlights look is so funny to him. "Relax," he reassures her. "I'm not going to make you go back to school and I'm not going to tell on you. But for future reference, commitment is the key to faking sick. You can't get distracted by the first prospect of ice cream."

"It's not fake," she says stubbornly. "I just got excited to see you."

"Sure you did," he replies, not believing her. "Way to make a guy feel special."

Rachel gets quiet then, lets go of his hand, and trails behind him the rest of the way to his car. She lets him help her into the car seat without a word. He doesn't know if she's embarrassed or still upset or if it's something else entirely.

House settles into the driver's seat and then decides to try a direct approach. "So why were you crying at school? Do I need to beat someone up?"

"No. I just feel...tired and sad."

"Oh."

He wasn't expecting so much honesty. Until now, their relationship has been solid, but never this deep. He physically feels it shift as Rachel opens up and trusts him with heavy emotions like fear and sadness. As a kid, House never had anyone to trust those feelings to, which makes it all the more significant to be that person for someone else. Rachel has Cuddy, and she always will, but he doesn't mind being a second option.

"I don't want to be at school," Rachel continues. "I don't want to listen to anyone because everyone is dumb and I want to take a nap."

"Everyone is dumb," House agrees. "I have to get back to the hospital since I've got a patient, but the cafeteria has ice cream sandwiches and there's plenty of places to nap. I would know, because I nap there all the time."

"You nap at work?"

"Yup."

"Are you supposed to?"

"Nope."

"Do you get in trouble?"

"Of course. Guess who yells at me for being lazy?"

"Mama."

"That's right. She won't yell at you, though. You deserve naps more than I do."

"Thank you, House."

He's not sure if she's thanking him for picking her up, agreeing to let her nap, just listening to her, or all of the above. But, for once, House feels like he got something right.

—\—

Cuddy is talking to Wilson in her office, but she barely registers what he's saying. Something about a clinical trial for a patient with bladder cancer. She blinks and tries to concentrate because Wilson sounds passionate about his argument and deserves her full attention. Truthfully, all Cuddy can think about is Rachel and House and how quickly the whole situation could unravel.

The doors to her office swing open and House walks into the room carrying Rachel, which is such a beautiful sight. Cuddy audibly sighs in relief because Rachel once again looks content in his arms.

"Delivery for Dr. Cuddy," House lightheartedly announces. "Someone ordered a rugrat?"

"Hi," Cuddy gets up from her desk and walks towards them searching for signs of illness in her daughter. "Is she sick?"

"It's exhaustion from not sleeping last night. She shouldn't be at school today."

"Poor baby," Cuddy caresses Rachel's cheek. "How does a nap on my couch sound?"

"Can I stay with House?" Rachel asks.

"House has a patient, honey."

"But I want House."

"I know you do, but he has to help someone who's sick and I have the perfect spot for napping."

"No!" The protest comes out as a scream and it startles all three adults into silence because Rachel has never been a yeller.

House, who looks the most startled out of any of them, is somehow the first to speak, offering a solution. "She can stay with me while my team is running tests."

He's trying to help, which Cuddy appreciates, but he's done enough already and she worries exactly what lesson they'll teach by caving. "Rachel, we do not yell to get what we want. We calmly explain how we feel."

"Sorry," she says straightaway. "I feel that I wanna stay with House 'cause…cause…"

Cuddy melts at how dejected she sounds, and how she gets stuck on the explanation for why she needs to be close to House. Cuddy already knows the answer. Rachel is worn out and scared and still working through everything she learned the night before. "How about we compromise? You can go with House now, but if his patient needs him, I'll come get you."

"Yes, please."

Cuddy turns to House. "Text me as soon as you get too busy."

"Will do."

When House and Rachel leave, Cuddy is desperate to talk with the only other person who could possibly understand how worried she is. "Did House tell you what happened last night?"

"I got an overview," Wilson admits.

"Do you think he's annoyed?"

"Not at all. He's more worried you're going to decide your mom is right."

Cuddy feels like she could cry right then and there. "That… that is so much worse."

"I don't think it is. Instead of being annoyed that he has to deal with something like this, he's afraid to lose Rachel."

It still sounds like a bad thing to her. "But I don't want him to be afraid. By some miracle, until now, he hasn't been overthinking his relationship with Rachel. My mother called attention to it in the worst possible way. I mean, bringing his leg into it?"

"I know, but it'll be okay."

"How can you say that?"

"Because... it's you two. Even if things get hard, it'll come together in the end."

Cuddy scoffs. "In case you've somehow forgotten the years before we got together, House and I are idiots."

"In case you somehow haven't noticed, you haven't been those idiots in a while. And besides, this is different."

"How?"

"You never seem to be idiots about Rachel."

Wilson's words are comforting, like they so often are. It allows her to be productive for a while after he leaves. She manages to approve his clinical trial and return a few phone calls. An hour or so later, Cuddy goes upstairs because House still hasn't texted her and she needs to make sure the two of them are doing okay on their own.

She finds House's team at work in the office. The blinds to the inner office are closed as if House isn't there, and Cuddy assumes he took Rachel to the cafeteria. "How's the patient?" She asks them, not wanting to waste the trip.

"Stable right now," Masters reports. "We're thinking it's a pulmonary manifestation of something autoimmune."

"And where's House?"

"Nap time," Foreman says, pointing to the closed office door. "But we kind of assumed you approved this one."

Cuddy isn't sure what he means until she walks into the inner office and finds Rachel asleep on top of House in his infamous chair. Cuddy has caught him slacking off in this same spot so many times before, but Foreman is right, this time is different.

"She really isn't letting go of you," Cuddy says, certain House is awake.

He opens his eyes and smiles. "Like mother, like daughter."

Cuddy sits down on the edge of the chair. "It's like she's having separation anxiety. I guess it makes sense, if you think about it."

"Yeah."

"It'll get better. She probably needs a few days. It's a lot to process."

"Yeah," House repeats.

Cuddy knows that he's doing a lot of processing, too.

—\—

It doesn't get better, though. Rachel cries every morning before school. And every night she follows House around like she's his shadow. She sleeps in their bed, sometimes in between them, sometimes hanging onto House for dear life.

Cuddy is lost. It's one of the rare times she wishes she had friends other than House and Wilson. She wishes she had mom friends she could talk to. She almost wishes she was speaking to her sister. But only almost. Because Julia would chastise House and then say it's Cuddy's fault for not dealing with the issue sooner. Maybe it is. Cuddy doesn't need that attitude, though. What she needs is advice.

House is in her office and they're eating lunch together in silence. They're too irritated and tired to even go to the cafeteria and be around anyone else. Cuddy knows they can only go on like this for so long — they're going to need a plan, sooner rather than later.

House finishes his sandwich, playfully tosses the wrapping at her. "Hi," he smirks mischievously.

"Hey."

"This is probably a long shot, but is there any chance we can have sex right now?"

In the middle of all the stress she feels so much affection for him, which only makes not being with him even harder. "Oh my god," he studies her face. "You're considering it."

"It's been eight days, House. Eight."

"Like you have to remind me. Maybe this was Arlene's master plan all along — freak out Rachel so we never have a moment alone again."

"It wouldn't even surprise me."

"We've never gone eight days before. Do you remember how I used to solve cases before we were together? I can't focus. How did I ever focus on anything? You broke my brain and made it all dependent on you."

Any admission from House that he needs her still gives her butterflies. "I'm also admittedly not at my best."

"So let's have sex at work. It seems wrong to let my patient die because I'm thinking about you bent over every surface in the hospital instead of why he's covered in a rash."

"Okay," Cuddy agrees, pointing to her right. "Bathroom."

"Bathroom? Why? This is the perfect opportunity for desk sex."

"No way. Desk sex is only for after hours and you know that. It's the middle of the day and people come to my door all the time."

"I already locked the door. We can close the blinds."

"What do you think it'll look like if I lock the door and close the blinds with youin my office in the middle of the day? Also, the blinds aren't soundproof and my assistant is right outside."

House pouts. "You're no fun."

"Sorry. It's the bathroom, or not at all."

"Eight day beggars can't be choosers," House stands up, gestures towards the bathroom. "After you, milady."

"Such a gentleman."

"At least we're still finding new places to have sex."

"Look at you, coming up with silver linings."

As soon as they're in the bathroom she grabs him by the shirt, pulls him against her, feels the tension start to leave her body the second their lips meet.

"Remember when I smashed this very bathroom with a sledgehammer and now we get to smash in it?" House jokes in between kisses.

She laughs against him, even though it's such a stupid remark. He lifts her onto the sink as she undoes his shirt, because he's still trying to prove something and she's still not going to stop him.

"Cuddy?"

They pull apart, realizing someone is in her office. "House," Cuddy lowers her voice to an angry whisper. "You specifically said you locked the door."

"My brain cells all died after the third day of no sex. I can't legally be held accountable for any of my actions."

"Ihateyou."

He looks down at her hands on his zipper. "Yeah, I can tell."

"Cuddy?" They hear again, the familiar voice registering this time.

"Is that Wilson?"

"Of course it is," House rolls his eyes. "His timing is, as always, amazing. Just be quiet and he'll go away."

"Or he'll sit down and wait for me," she says, hoping down from the sink. "I've got this."

Cuddy opens the door without any attempt to fix her disheveled appearance. "What?"

"Oh," Wilson turns towards them, somewhere between awkward and confused. "Uh. Hey."

"Do you need something?"

"I was going to ask if you wanted to get lunch. Are you two…."

"About to have sex?" Cuddy finishes the sentence for him. "Yes, we are."

"In the middle of the work day?"

"Rachel has slept in our bed every night for the last eight nights."

"Which is your fault, by the way," House says from behind her.

"My fault? What? How?!"

"I asked you to babysit that night so I could take Cuddy out."

"I know this may come as a shock to you, but I'm not actually on your payroll."

"You couldn't do your very best friends a favor. You just had to go on a date with some bimbo. The worst part is you didn't even get laid and you're never going to see her again. Now no one is getting laid and it's all because you're selfish."

"Cuddy?" Wilson looks at her expectantly, like she'll be the voice of reason. "Are you going to comment on this insane narrative?"

"The only thing I'm going to do is have sex with House on my lunch break, which is getting shorter the longer I stand here talking to you."

Wilson laughs incredulously. "Have...fun?"

"Oh, we will," House calls after him. "Lock the door on your way out!"

—\—

The weirdest thing about mid-workday bathroom sex is not that it happened, but how it makes Cuddy feel. All her doubt dissipates because she's reminded how connected they are — not just physically, but emotionally. Her stress is replaced with confidence that they can do this. They can make it through and come out on the other side stronger and better for it. For the first time in days, Cuddy is in a good mood and her head is clear enough to come up with a strategy for moving forward.

In the afternoon she goes upstairs to see House, hoping to get him on board. She finds him in his office, glasses perched on his nose, staring at his white board.

"Hi."

He turns to her with a smile. "Back for round two already? I know I don't have a private bathroom, but I'm sure we can work something out."

"Tempting, but no. I think I have an idea about Rachel."

"Yeah?"

"We could ask Dr. Callum for help."

"Who?"

"Beth Callum."

"The hospital's pediatric therapist?"

"Yeah, she'd be a good resource. Maybe she could talk to Rachel and then give us advice about where to go from here."

She swears she sees House clench his jaw and tighten the muscles in his fist, but she tries to convince herself she's imagining it, that she's only being paranoid.

"You think Rachel needs a shrink to deal with me?"

"No, of course not. I just want to consult someone who knows what they're talking about. We need a better solution than letting Rachel sleep with us every night. It's not sustainable."

"She didn't need a shrink before me."

"I'm not saying she needs a therapist," Cuddy calmly assures him. "Not that it would be a problem if she did. Therapy isn't a bad thing, but Rachel doesn't need it long term. We need to get her through this. It has nothing to do with you. This is all my mother's fault."

"Rachel was living her life. Then she found out about my leg. Now she needs a therapist. That's what you're saying."

"No, it isn't. I'm trying to do the right thing because it matters. Your relationship with Rachel matters. We need help. There's not exactly a book on…"

"There definitely isn't a book on how to explain your crippled boyfriend to your daughter."

"You know that isn't what I mean," Cuddy feels it slipping away so fast. "I love you. All I want is.."

"She wouldn't need a therapist if you stayed with Lucas."

She can hardly believe her ears. It feels like stepping into the world's worst time machine and ending up back in the place where House is a million miles away from her. "I know this is hard and you're upset, but there's no reason to throw my biggest mistake in my face."

He looks terrified and defeated. "I think you're probably looking right at your biggest mistake."

"House. You're…"

Everything. One of the best things that ever happened to her. The only one she could ever imagine in Rachel's life. Definitely her soulmate, even though he doesn't believe in that term. She's too overwhelmed to narrow down the answer so she stands there speechless.

"We need you," Taub walks in, suddenly interrupting them. "Patient is coughing up blood."

"Please don't leave," Cuddy begs.

It's the wrong thing to say. She's the Dean of Medicine and he needs to do his job. Her mind knows that, but all her heart wants is for him to stay and tell her he loves her.

"You want the patient to die while we stand here and talk about this?" He asks instead. "Because I don't know how we're gonna pay for all that therapy if you get fired."

—\—

House knows it's shitty of him not to go to Cuddy's after work. So shitty. Especially when Rachel will inevitably freak out and Cuddy will be left to deal with it by herself. Which isn't fair at all. But he needs to think, he needs to breathe.

He drives the bike around aimlessly. He wants to go to a bar, but he knows that would be an even shittier decision and he has to draw the line somewhere. So he just rides and thinks and feels the wind against his face and wonders what the fuck he's supposed to do.

He's… scared. Almost paralyzed by fear. And he can't help but to think back to the night years ago when he rode to Cuddy's house, too afraid to knock on the door and ask her out. He watched her through the window, so sure he would always be watching her from afar. He wishes he could tell that version of himself that one day he'd be dealing with things ten times scarier than knocking on her goddamn door. That he'd come to that same house practically every night, that he'd sleep in Cuddy's bed, that he'd sort of be raising a kid with her. A kid who cries when he's not there and is destroyed by the thought of something bad happening to him. Which is a problem, since bad things tend to happen to him a lot.

He wonders if the past version of him would run away the moment he learned his future. Maybe he'd want to. But House can never seem to run from Cuddy. He can hide and sulk and question everything. But he can't ever leave. He doesn't want to. And he's not going to now.

He circles Cuddy's neighborhood a few more times before pulling up in front of the house. He lets himself inside and goes to the bedroom where Cuddy is sitting on the bed with Rachel asleep next to her.

"I'm sorry," he says in greeting.

"It's okay."

She doesn't look mad. She looks almost serene.

"It isn't."

"It is," she promises. "I get it, House. Really, I do."

"Did Rachel…" he gestures vaguely towards the bed.

"I told her you were helping a patient. She wasn't happy, but she fell asleep eventually."

"Good."

"You're not drunk," Cuddy realizes.

"I wanted to drink," House admits. "I honestly wanted…. to do more than that."

"I'm sure," she says, without a hint of judgement.

"I'm not going to show up drunk knowing the kid is going to crawl into bed with us. I'm not going to be that guy. I didn't even.. I didn't go anywhere. I drove the bike around."

"I'm glad you're here now."

He can tell she's choosing her words carefully, scared to cause a fight or make him run again. He has to lay his cards on the table and make her understand what's going on in his mind.

"Sometimes I still think about how Rachel was one of the big reasons for us not to be together."

"You do?"

"Yeah."

"House, it wasn't personal."

"You were adopting a baby and I was high almost every second of every day. I'm pretty sure it had a little to do with me personally."

"It also had to do with the fact that we played a lot of games. Both of us. I didn't know if we could be stable for her. I was scared, but I was wrong. So wrong. You're the most stable thing in my life."

"Wow," he says sarcastically. "That is highly concerning for you."

"Enough with the self-deprecating bullshit," Cuddy warns. "I hate it. You can't tell me you came home sober because you thought about Rachel and then act like you're not reliable."

House sits on the bed, looks down at Rachel sleeping in between them, and can't come up with a response.

"I was thinking about what you said earlier," Cuddy continues. "And what you said just now confirms it. There's been a pattern in front of my face this whole time. But my brain doesn't work like yours, so it took me a while to put it together."

"What pattern?"

"The first real gesture you ever made to show you were serious about me was offering to babysit. When we got together, you told me I was going to wake up and realize you were an insane choice for someone with a kid. You came to me a few weeks into our relationship and asked why I wouldn't let you sleepover. You said you wanted to spend more time with Rachel so we could have a real relationship."

He listens to her list, following along, remembering all of it, each moment scarier than the last.

"You've always worried that Rachel— or you not living up to some expectation you think I have about her — would be our downfall. And then… I think you started to forget. Because you and Rachel have a great relationship that developed naturally. You started to feel safe with both of us. But then my mom reminded you. She reminded you of your fear that you're not worthy."

She's right. He doesn't feel worthy. And he certainly doesn't feel capable. "I don't ever want to be the reason Rachel's life is harder than it needs to be."

Cuddy shakes her head in frustrated disbelief. "You make her life so much better. Don't you get that?"

"Honestly? No. It doesn't make any sense to me."

"I wish I could make you see it."

House sighs, rests his head back against the headboard. "I don't want to talk to a shrink that we work with about Rachel."

"Is that what you were worried about? That she'll tell people? You know she can't."

"She won't have to. People will see us bringing Rachel to the hospital's pediatric therapist."

House figures the hospital can talk all they want about him and Cuddy, but he's not bringing Rachel into it.

"I only wanted Callum because I trust her," Cuddy explains. "She already knows me, Rachel has met her before, and she knows about your leg. I thought it would be less of an ordeal than finding someone else who we'd have to explain everything to."

His pride shouldn't prevent Cuddy from getting the support she needs as a mother, and it shouldn't prevent them from helping Rachel. "Could she come to the house, maybe?"

"That could work. We could have her stop by and play with Rachel and then talk to us?"

"Okay," he agrees, satisfied with the arrangement. "You mad at me?"

"You processed your emotions by taking the time you needed. You didn't do anything destructive. You showed up and told me how you felt. You did everything right. I'm not mad at all."

He doesn't want to talk anymore; he only wants to get ready for bed. "Then I'm going to take a shower."

"House?" she grabs his wrist as he starts to get up. "There's just one other thing."

"What is it?"

She looks at him pointedly. "Don't ever call the love of my life a mistake again."

—\—

On Thursday, Cuddy works from home. House shows up in the afternoon, only a few minutes later than he was supposed to. He meets Cuddy in the kitchen, all too aware that Callum is already in Rachel's room. He's dreading the conversation that's coming. He's dreading getting professional confirmation that Rachel is traumatized because she learned about his trauma.

Since Mayfield, cooking has been a good distraction for House — it gives him something to do with his hands and mind. Cuddy knows that, which is why she asks him to help her with dinner while they wait. The two of them cook in silence because they don't need to say anything. Cuddy wanting him there speaks volumes. House showing up speaks even louder.

"Are you ready for me?" Callum interrupts them about a half an hour later.

"Of course!" Cuddy turns off the stove, and the three of them move to the living room. "Thanks again for doing this here."

"It's not a problem."

House hasn't had much interaction with Callum at work. He knows that Cuddy likes her. He knows she has a reputation for being excellent in her field. He also knows she dresses exclusively in pastels and is far too cheery for his liking. He gets that it's probably a facade to help her earn the trust of kids who come into the hospital. But now her overly cheery face is sitting on the couch across from them, ready to discuss the most private aspects of their lives.

"You can relax," Callum says, sensing their nerves. "Rachel is absolutely fine. She's adjusting to the reality that the people she loves can get hurt. It's always difficult when that bubble bursts for kids her age, but her reaction is very normal."

"Did I screw this up?" Cuddy asks, because of course she's still trying to find ways to blame herself. "By not telling her earlier? I thought…"

"You did nothing wrong. It's not your fault your mom took the opportunity away from you."

"My mother is not the kindest person. I wasn't there to hear what she said, but I know it wasn't put gently."

"The way Rachel found out is likely part of why it's taking longer for her to process. It made the bubble burst a tad more dramatically."

"Is there anything we can do to help her process?"

Callum looks directly at House. "I think you should show Rachel your scar."

"What?!" He questions, because he cannot possibly have heard correctly.

"Children have big, wild imaginations. From what I can tell, Rachel is imagining it to be a lot worse than it is. Part of her fear is about the unknown, because she hasn't seen it for herself. Lisa did an excellent job explaining everything, but Rachel's still struggling to understand things like blood clots. And who could blame her? I think once she sees the reality, she'll know you're okay and stop being so anxious."

"And instead she'll be repulsed."

"She will not," Cuddy rebuts.

"Yes, she will. She's a little kid and my leg is disgusting."

"It isn't," Cuddy maintains her delusion, and much to his horror, appears to be open to the plan. "How should we go about it?"

"I wouldn't make it into a big thing," Callum instructs. "When there's an opportunity to show her naturally, take it."

"When the hell is a natural time for me to flash my mutilated limb at a five year old?"

"Lisa will know."

"I will?" Cuddy questions, lacking confidence.

"You're her mother. When the time is right, you'll know what to do."

—\—

House is hoping the time won't be right for several years (or ever), but unfortunately he's not so lucky. On Sunday the three of them are having a lazy morning— it's almost nine and they haven't even made it to the kitchen for a real breakfast yet. Rachel is jumping on the bed with a box of cheerios while a cartoon plays on the television. When House comes back from the bathroom Rachel points to his cane, which is resting against the nightstand. "How come you use that most of the time, but sometimes you don't?" She asks.

"I don't always need it around the house because I'm not walking that far. I can walk on my own if it's a short distance."

"What's it do?"

"It helps me walk."

"I know, mama told me. But how?"

House grabs his cane so he can demonstrate. "Watch," he instructs, before taking a few steps. "When I press down on it, I don't have to put as much pressure on the leg that's hurt."

"Oh. I get it."

Cuddy sits up in bed and looks at him for approval. He doesn't tell her no, as much as he wants to avoid this forever, so she forges ahead. "Rachel, honey, do you want to see where House got hurt?"

Rachel stops her jumping, goes entirely still, puts down her cereal, and nods. It's almost as if she's been waiting for this.

House is still wearing pajama pants. Pants that won't roll up high enough to show his scar and which he's certainly not about to pull down. He points to them. "How am I supposed to…"

"Can you put on shorts? Or boxers?"

He grabs a pair of boxers out of the drawer that's slowly become his and then heads into the bathroom to change. House isn't someone who often gets nervous. He can be elbow deep in human organs and feel calm and steady. Now he's so shaky that he has to sit down on the edge of the tub just to catch his breath. He's all too aware that the next ten minutes could change and define his relationship with the two people he considers…. family. He doesn't want anything to change and he doesn't want Rachel to look at him differently.

After a few minutes, House opens the bathroom door and sees Rachel sitting on Cuddy's lap on the bed. He walks closer until he's standing before them, his scar exposed to both of them.

"See, baby? House is okay. The doctors just took out the part that got sick."

"Doctors?" Rachel repeats back. "Were you there?"

"I was. I've known House forever and ever."

"So you helped?"

Cuddy hesitates, which House can't let slide. "She did."

"Can I touch?"

"If you give me your hand," Cuddy directs, before taking Rachel's hand in her own and guiding it to House's thigh. "Don't press down, okay? You have to be gentle."

Rachel's fingertips rest on the crevasses of his scar. "Hurts?" She asks him.

"Nah, your tiny hands don't hurt."

This is a different kind of intimacy, so deep he never imagined he would achieve it. Both of them touching the most vulnerable part of him, the part he always assumed made him unlovable. The two of them loving him anyway.

"Does it bleed?"

"No," House assures her. "It looks ugly, but it's fine now. Well, it aches. But it doesn't bleed."

Rachel scrunches her nose in disapproval. "Not ugly."

And then. Then. Rachel Cuddy, far too alike her mother in every conceivable way, leans forward and kisses his scar. "That's what you do with booboos."

Cuddy's eyes are watery, but she refuses to let tears fall, no doubt trying to be strong for the kid. "Mommy does that too," she says. "Because when I see House's leg it reminds me that he's so strong and brave and it makes me love him even more."

House is going to lose his shit any second. The last thing he wants to do is breakdown, but the intensity of the moment is going to push him over the edge. He's so grateful when Rachel perks up and looks at him like she's had an epiphany. "House," she says excitedly. "You got sick but then you got better and now you save other people from being hurt."

"True," he confirms, trying to follow.

"That's what happens with superheroes. Like Iron Man!"

Her naivety is endearing and a welcome change in tone. "Cane is made out of wood, Rach. Not iron."

"It's the same."

"It's definitely not the same."

"It's the same!" Rachel jumps off the bed. "Hold on. I got something for you!"

She runs out of the room and House stares at Cuddy dumbfounded. "What the hell just happened?"

"Don't question it."

"But…"

"You thought she would be repulsed. Instead you're a superhero. Let's just take the win for once." Cuddy stands up and pulls him in for a hug.

He doesn't say anything, but lets her hold him. They stand there like that for a few minutes, until Cuddy pulls away slightly. "House. When did my five year old see Iron Man? What is that even rated?"

He laughs, he can't help it. "Just take the win, Cuddy."

Rachel runs back into the room. "Here!" she says, putting a tiny iron man sticker on the front of his cane. "Now it's official."

It's one of his more expensive canes, but it doesn't matter— the moment is worth so much more.

—\—

Much to Cuddy's relief, Dr. Callum is right. Rachel's anxiety dissipates slowly but surely. She stops crying in the mornings. She sleeps in her own bed more nights than not. Life goes back to normal. Cuddy might even venture to say it's better than before. There's an increased sense of trust and closeness between the three of them — like they're their own little unit where each of them feels safe and home.

A few weeks later Cuddy is putting the breakfast dishes in the sink when Rachel tugs on her pant leg, demanding her attention. "Mama. Can House dance?"

Cuddy thinks it makes perfect sense for her to still have lingering questions about what House can and can't do, so she doesn't find the question strange.

"He sure can."

"Really?

"Yup. I've danced with him many times."

House walks into the kitchen just then, overhearing the tail end of the conversation. "Who have you danced with?"

"You."

"True that. Dancing was an important part of our early courtship."

"Somehow I don't think us mutually stalking each other at a hoedown counts as a courtship."

House sits down at the kitchen table. "I walked all the way across campus. It totally counts."

Rachel approaches him as he drinks what's left of Cuddy's coffee. She grabs something out of her backpack and hands it to him. "Since you can dance, can you come to this?"

Cuddy watches House's facial expression change as he reads whatever's on the flyer. She puts down the dishes and walks over to the table herself. "I'd invite you too," Rachel tells her. "But moms aren't going."

The flyer is for the father-daughter dance. Cuddy freezes, has no idea how she missed the memo that the event was even happening.

"You want me to go with you to this?" House questions. Cuddy doesn't know if he's in shock, looking for a way to get out of it, or maybe both.

"Yes. Only if you wanna come."

Cuddy waits for him to make a joke about school dances being stupid, or to clarify that he's not technically Rachel's father, but he doesn't. "Sure. I'll go."

She decides to throw him a lifeline in case he feels pressured or doesn't know how to say no to Rachel. As much as she wants this, she tries to be realistic. They've only just made it through the last intense experience, she's not sure if they're ready for the next one. "The only problem would be if House gets a patient that's really sick that night."

"If he has to save someone it's okay. That's more important than dancing."

"I probably won't though," House adds.

Cuddy is in awe of him. That's not necessarily a new sensation. She's been in awe of him since the moment they met at a bookstore in Michigan. But instead of being in awe of his mind, of the way he sees the puzzle before him, she's now in awe of his heart, and of all the ways it continues to surprise her.

"Why don't you go get dressed, honey? Marina will be here in ten minutes."

—\—

"Did you say that because you don't want me to take her?" House asks, as soon as Rachel's in the hallway. His thoughts are racing as he tries to process both the unexpected invitation and Cuddy's reaction to it. He can tell Cuddy had no idea Rachel was planning to ask him, but he has to figure out if she considers it a good or bad surprise.

"Not at all. I wanted to give you an out in case you felt put on the spot by her asking like that."

"I can take her."

"Yeah?"

"If you want me to."

"She'd have a lot of fun with you there."

"Then I'll take her."

Cuddy sits down across from him. "As long as you know there's no coming back from this."

"From a dance?"

"From this type of dance."

House knows that it's a big deal, but he's already shared the most profound vulnerability with Rachel. A stupid dance feels like nothing in comparison. "Do you think there's any coming back from the thing we did with my leg? Because to me that was a way bigger deal."

"I know," Cuddy admits. "And for the record, I don't want to come back from any of it. Nothing would make me happier than you... filling this role more blatantly. But we can't jerk her around about it. You understand that, right?"

He hears what Cuddy is saying between the lines. House shouldn't take Rachel to the dance if he has any doubts whatsoever that he's going to be an enduring presence in her life. House already knows he'll never break up with Cuddy, which means he'll never be apart from Rachel. And frankly, even if Cuddy dumped his ass, he'd still want to be around Rachel for as long as he was allowed.

"The only way I'm not in Rachel's life anymore is if you don't want me there."

"I'll always want you in Rachel's life," Cuddy says. "No matter what."

"So then you want me to take her to the dance?" He asks again, needing to be certain.

"I do."

House will probably marry Cuddy one day, if he's lucky enough to get her to agree. Still, somehow, this "I do" feels more official and permanent than any ceremony ever will.

—\—

House gets more and more panicked as the dance gets closer. He begins obsessing over everything: what he should wear, how he should act, what he's going to say if Rachel starts asking questions about his role in her life. He wants to talk about it, but he really doesn't want Cuddy to think he's having second thoughts. And he already knows what Wilson will say. Blah blah blah you deserve this blah blah blah trust yourself with Rachel blah blah blah.

House needs someone objective. So he does the most logical thing he can think of — he follows Dr. Callum to the coffee shop next to the hospital. He tries to go unnoticed as she places her order and gets her drink. He lets her settle into a table by the window. And then, just as she starts sending a text message, he sits down in the seat across from her.

"Rachel asked me to go to the father daughter dance with her."

"Oh," Callum looks up from her phone, surprised to see him. "Dr. House. Hi."

"Does that mean she thinks I'm her dad?"

"Are you... asking for my professional advice?"

"You were right about the other thing."

"You showed her…"

"Yeah."

"It went well?

"Yeah."

"That's wonderful. I'm so glad."

"So, about the dance."

"What exactly are you worried about?"

"What am I not worried about?"

"Okay," Callum reframes. "What are you most worried about?"

House thinks that even if Callum stayed in that coffeeshop for the next week, they still wouldn't have enough time to talk about all his concerns.

"With Cuddy I can dance by sort of just standing there and moving a little. Rachel is so short, she barely comes up to my knee. And with my leg I can't bend down to dance at her level."

"You can pick her up though, right? Isn't that how all this started?"

House admits he sees the irony. "Yeah, I guess."

"I have a feeling you're probably more worried about what it means that she asked you. That's what you first implied when you sat down."

"Yeah."

"Can I ask...do you tell Rachel how you feel?"

"About what?"

"About her."

He's never even thought about it, but he doesn't. He's never once expressed any feelings towards Rachel out loud. He wonders if the kid's picked up on it, or if she's confused about it. "No."

"Do you tell Dr. Cuddy how you feel about Rachel?"

He almost answers yes, but telling Cuddy he's not going anywhere is not the same as telling her how he feels about Rachel. "Not really— I think she knows."

"You think?"

"She wouldn't want me to take Rachel to the dance if she thought I didn't... like her."

Callum smiles at him like he's a little kid. "Well, yes. I assume it's been established that you like Rachel. Do you love her?"

The answer has been creeping up on him, day by day. It's not so different from the way he fell in love with Cuddy: a constant presence in his life he eventually realized he never wanted to live without. "Yeah."

"I wouldn't overthink the dance, but you do need to tell them how you feel about the situation. The rest — about exactly who you are to Rachel — is sort of up to them. The thing is, they can't make decisions without knowing where your head's at. Right now they're both at a disadvantage because they don't have all the information they need."

It sounds like a daunting task, as if he hasn't had enough of those lately. "I'm not so good... with the words."

"You could write it down. Like a letter."

"What is this, middle school?"

Callum shrugs. "That's my advice."

"Sounds more like an assignment."

Callum stands up and grabs her coffee. "Here's another one," she says, before heading towards the door. "Learn how to book a real appointment."

—\—

The night of the dance Cuddy helps Rachel get ready. She realizes she's living one of the moments she used to dream of when she longed for a child of her own. There were days she forced herself to accept that she'd never get here. As she braids Rachel's hair she thinks about how grateful she is to have all of this.

When Rachel is zipped into her baby blue floral dress, the two of them meet House in the living room. He's dressed in khakis that are actually ironed, a light blue button up, and a navy-blue tie. Cuddy told him to ditch the jacket and keep the sneakers since he's only going to a school gymnasium. She wants him to be comfortable, to feel like himself.

"Mom, look," Rachel exclaims, pointing to House's tie, which is the same color as the flowers on her dress. "We match!"

"You do— and you both look great."

"Here," House says, pulling out something from behind his back for Rachel. "I got you this."

"What is it?"

Cuddy is impressed by the gesture the moment she realizes what he's done. "It's called a corsage. And it was very nice of House to pick one out for you."

"It's no big deal," he downplays, as Cuddy puts the white roses on Rachel's wrist. "I got something for you too, by the way. It's in your room, but don't open it until after we leave."

The warning makes Cuddy think he's maybe gotten her something she's supposed to wear later when he gets home to reward him. She doesn't mind because he's being such a good sport. So much so that she feels like she can push her luck. "Can I take a picture before you go?"

"Sure."

House picks Rachel up and she wraps her arms around his neck. Cuddy snaps a few pictures on her phone. When she's done, she hugs them both goodbye, tells them to have a good time, and watches them head out the door.

As soon as she's alone in the house, she stares at the pictures over and over, zooming in and out. Cheek to cheek, House and Rachel really do look like father and daughter, which is a lot for her to take in. She's pacing her hallway, scrolling through photographs, when she notices an envelope sitting on her bed. That's when she remembers that House said he left something for her, though it doesn't appear to be lingerie. Intrigued, she walks into her room, opens the envelope, and reads what's written on the notebook paper she finds inside:

Cuddy,

Happy Rachel's first ever dance. Bet you never thought I'd be her date. If I was someone who thought about sappy things I would probably be thinking about how I danced with you in med school and now I get to dance with your kid twenty years later. I might even be thinking about all the stuff in between that got us here. Good thing I'm not sappy.

I don't say as often as I should that you are a kick ass mom. I say it to other people behind your back but I should probably say it more to your face. You kick so much mom ass. Rachel is smart and good and fun to be around. Thank you for not listening to me when I tried to talk you out of adopting a kid because I thought it meant you'd leave me behind. Thank you for getting overly involved in my case and figuring out it was eclampsia. Whenever I think about you showing up to that building alone with nothing but a flashlight to save Rachel's life I feel proud. I'm proud of who you are and how you make everyone around you better.

Speaking of which, you're the best thing that ever happened to me. But Rachel is a very close second. Although, since the kid is an extension of you, she still falls under the category of Cuddy related reasons why my life doesn't suck anymore. You should know that I love her. It scares the shit out of me, but I do. I used to only walk around carrying the dread of how much it would hurt if I ever lost you, and now it's double the fun. I have two people I love and two people I'm scared to lose. You had to make me fall in love with this tiny version of you. I'm both grateful and a little annoyed at the whole thing.

By the way, you're also a kick ass girlfriend. Not sure I tell you that enough either. Boss, doctor, mom, girlfriend. I have no idea how you can be so good at everything. You're just showing off at this point. It would be annoying, but I happen to benefit directly from you being so good at all these things. I also benefit from you being good at yoga, but that's a story for another, very different kind of letter.

If you think it's stupid that I wrote you a letter, this was Dr. Callum's idea. If you like it, then this was all my idea because I'm brilliant and I love you.

This sappiness will self-destruct in 3...2….

Only kidding. I didn't have time to make this a self-exploding letter. Maybe next time.

House.

P. S. Sorry I said ass three times in a romantic letter.

Cuddy exhales a breath she didn't even realize she was holding. She marvels at how the letter is perfectly House in every way —telling her what she needs to hear without losing an ounce of himself in the process. Rachel isn't the only one she's overwhelmingly grateful for. She doesn't know how she could possibly love House any more than she does in that very moment.

Mixed in with her happiness, she feels a small sliver of sadness. Because she wants to pick up the phone and call her mother or sister. She wants to tell them that her boyfriend did something wonderful. She misses them and she knows they both love her, even when they're showing it in all the worst ways. Still, the harsh reality is that Cuddy has always been excluded from the Arlene and Julia team. It's partially her own fault for being so focused on her career and for not visiting as often as she should, but it still hurts.

Until Cuddy remembers that she has a team of her own. Two of them are together right now, on their way to a school dance. She has a daughter and a boyfriend who have her back. She also has a brother, not by blood, but by choice. She's hoping he'll be home to answer her call.

"You promised you'd send a picture of them," Wilson picks up, coming through for her as usual. "I'm still waiting."

Cuddy sobs into the phone as soon as she hears his voice. All the emotions of the last few months bubbling to the surface. She was so scared it would unravel, but instead everything is fitting together. Just like Wilson promised it would.

"Cuddy?! What's wrong?!"

"Happy tears," she clarifies. "Very happy ones."

The tears of getting everything she ever wanted and staring at the written proof in her hands.

—\—

In a lot of ways, the dance is underwhelming. There's less than ten streamers and a dozen balloons for decorations, a bunch of baked goods sprawled across tables covered in plastic covers, and a sorry excuse for a DJ. It's a pathetic set up considering House knows how much Cuddy pays in tuition, but Rachel doesn't seem to mind. He stands with her in the corner eating homemade brownies and cookies as she gives him the lowdown on her classmates. He knows some of them already from times they've been over Cuddy's house, but he gets introduced to the unfamiliar faces. He tries not to care too much that most of their fathers are a decade or two younger than him.

"Hi, Rachel," a young woman, who House figures must be a faculty member, approaches them. "Who do you have with you tonight?"

"House," she answers, with a determined look on her face. "I told you he's real, Ms. Evans."

House raises his brow. "Uh. Why wouldn't I be real?"

"I'm Rachel's writing teacher," Ms. Evans explains. "There was initially some confusion because she kept writing about 'house' and I thought she meant an actual...house. I couldn't figure out why she was capitalizing the H. Then I honestly thought she might have an imaginary friend named House. There were a lot of entries about running around her mother's workplace causing chaos."

"Yeah, I'm not imaginary, just really immature."

"You should've told me House is your dad," Ms. Evans says to Rachel. "Why do you call him that?"

Rachel looks puzzled, which is a big part of what House was afraid of.

"I met her mom in med school," he intervenes. "We work together at a hospital. All the adults in Rachel's life call me House. It kind of stuck with her, too."

"Oh, that makes sense. I'm glad to meet you, Dr. House. Hope you two have fun."

"Hey rugrat," he says, once the teacher's out of earshot. "Did you want me to come with you tonight just to prove I'm real?"

"No," she insists, and he can tell she's being honest. "I wanted to bring you because we have fun and because I want to dance with you."

Just then, the DJ puts on a slow song. "I guess we better get the dancing over with."

House picks her up and limps to the middle of the gym, which is being used as the dance floor. It's weird how he doesn't feel out of place. He's not really her father, which means he should probably feel like he doesn't belong. He's never felt that way about Rachel though, has always been tied to her fate in ways he couldn't understand. She holds onto his arm as they sort of sway to the music and a strange thought pops into his head — Rachel's fingers are resting on the very spot he used to shoot up morphine. She touched his scar, and now his worn out veins. Amazingly, dancing with her is a better high than the drugs ever were.

—\—

"You're gonna have to walk." House tells Rachel as they get out of his parked car. They've decided to get ice cream before they go home, but he doesn't have the strength to carry her after dancing through three songs in a row. She nods acceptingly and stays close to him on the sidewalk.

"Are you 'kay?" She questions, sounding concerned.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"We don't have to get ice cream if your leg hurts."

"Oh, we're getting ice cream. Ice cream is a little-known cure for leg pain."

She appears satisfied with his assurance and a few minutes later they arrive at the shop. House orders himself a giant sundae that Cuddy would probably disapprove of and Rachel gets mint-chocolate-chip with chocolate sprinkles, which is her new favorite. It's a beautiful night, with clear skies and temperatures still in the low sixties, so they sit down at a table outside.

"I have something for you, kid. Besides the ice cream."

"What is it?"

"A letter," he answers, pulling it out of his pocket. "But since you can't read, I'll read it to you."

"I can read," Rachel objects.

"You can read a little."

"I'm a good reader. I got a 95 in reading on my report card. I thought mom showed you."

"Okay, you're right. You're a good reader. But you're a slow reader, because you're five years old. It'd take a hundred years for you to read this and then all our ice cream would melt."

"Fine," she accepts. "You can read it."

"Can I start, mini-bossy-pants?"

"Yes."

Writing Cuddy's letter was a little hard, but not really. House knew what he wanted to say to her, and he knew exactly how to say it. He knows by now that he can talk to Cuddy, and can be honest about his feelings. Writing Rachel's letter was next to impossible. He started so many times, only to end up tossing each draft in the trash. He's still not entirely happy with his final version, but he reads it aloud anyway.

Rachel,

Thanks for inviting me to your dance. I was thinking about how when you asked me, you said I should only come if I wanted to. You should know I'll always want to go places that are important to you. Even when those places are lame. Even if you decide to become an annoying ballerina and I have to miss my favorite soap operas to see your recitals. I still hope you pick piano over tutus, but I'm there either way. I'm sorry that, until now, I haven't told you I love you. When I was growing up my parents didn't ever say I love you — to each other, or to me. Your mom says it to me a lot, but I'm still getting used to hearing it and saying it back as often as I want to. I'm going to try to get better because you deserve to hear it.

House.

He feels stupid when Rachel doesn't say anything. She takes another spoon full of ice cream and swallows. Then she tilts her head a little and asks, "your mommy and daddy didn't tell you they loved you?"

"No."

"How come?"

"I don't know."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry for things that aren't your fault."

"My mom loves you."

"I know."

"And I love you."

"I... love you, too."

It's so much easier than he imagined it would be, to exchange these words with her. It doesn't feel heavy at all.

"House, you know how I'm adopted?"

"I'm familiar."

"Mama said you were the first person she told about wanting to get a baby."

"I guess that's true."

"And she said you helped her get ready to have me. And that you always made her feel better when she got sad about having to wait a long time for me."

He thinks he gets the translation. He helped Cuddy with IVF and comforted her after Joy. Perhaps she's romanticizing it a bit, since he's not sure how much throwing baby vomit on her sweater got her ready to have a kid. He's still happy she sees it that way — that she considers him part of her journey to get to Rachel.

"And she said you changed my diapers when I was little and one time you let me eat a dime."

House rolls his eyes. "Wilson and I left you alone for two seconds and you swallowed a dime instead of eating my Chinese food like a big dummy."

Normally Rachel would respond by claiming he's the real dummy, but not this time. "Ms. Evans called you my dad."

There it is. He knew it was coming eventually. "Well, we were at the father-daughter dance."

"So are you?" She questions, in a very Cuddy way.

"I can be," House offers. "If you want."

"You can just say you are, and then you are?"

"Pretty much. If you want me to, I will be. Or I can just be House."

"If you're my dad, can I still call you House?"

"Sure."

"If you're my dad, can I sometimes call you House you and sometimes call you dad?"

"You can do whatever you want. We make the rules."

"We do?"

"Yup. It's our family. Doesn't really matter what we call each other."

"If we make the rules, can we have ice cream for breakfast?"

"Let me rephrase," House amends. "We make the rules, but your mom has to approve them."

"She approves of you being my dad, but not of ice cream for breakfast?"

"I never claimed to understand her logic."

"I'd rather you be my dad than have ice cream for breakfast anyway."

"Cool," House says.

"Yeah," Rachel agrees.

The list of people House loves may not be long, but once someone is on it, they're on it. He'll scheme and obsess and do anything to protect them. Cuddy. Wilson. And now a tiny addition.

She picks up the letter from the table. "Can I have this?"

"It's all yours."

As far as House is concerned, from that point forward, Rachel is all his.

—\—

When they get home, the house is dead quiet. House carries Rachel to her room, changes her into pajamas, and tucks her in under the covers. Like a real parent. Which maybe he is now.

He gets to the bedroom where Cuddy is half asleep on the bed. She stirs a few seconds after he enters, sensing his presence or hearing his footsteps. She has a content look on her face as she sits up, which he's hoping means his letter went over well.

"Hi. How was it?"

"It was fun. She passed out on the way home, so I put her to bed."

"Thank you for taking her. And thank you for my letter. It meant... a lot. I didn't even realize how much I needed to hear those things."

"I wrote Rachel one, too."

"You did?"

"Yeah. She has it with her, but you can read it tomorrow if you want."

"That's okay. It can be between you two. I want your relationship to be yours. I don't want to control every aspect of it."

"Really?" He teases, unable to resist the obvious remark. "That sounds very unlike you."

"Shut up."

"You walked right into that one, Cuddy."

"I guess I did."

House gets into bed, but he can feel Cuddy studying him, and he knows she has something to say. "What is it?"

"I was wondering if there's anything I can do to help with you feeling so scared to lose us."

"I doubt it. That's on me."

"What if you didn't have to depend solely on me for access to Rachel?"

"What do you mean?"

"We could make you her guardian."

House is floored by the suggestion. "You'd do that?"

"Of course I would. You really don't want to know half the things I let myself daydream about."

"Not true," he objects, because he wants to understand every last part of Cuddy. "I want to know all the things you daydream about."

"I hope that one day, maybe, you'll adopt her," she confesses. "But I know that's huge, so I was thinking this could be a good first step."

It sounds practical to him. It will validate that he's someone to Rachel, which doesn't scare him anymore. She's someone to him, too. "It does sound like a good first step."

"I'll call the lawyer in the morning."

House is emboldened by the events of the last few months and, even more so, by that very night. He works up the courage to ask something that's been on his mind for a while. "Would you want to buy a house together?"

"You want us to move?"

"Don't get me wrong, I love it here. It has a lot of good memories. Even from before we were together. Me grabbing your ass. Me showing up at your window in the middle of the night. Me interrupting your doomed dates. Us making out in the hallway. But…"

"It's my place," Cuddy realizes, having a House-esque epiphany of her own. "Like she's my kid."

House nods, not in the least bit surprised she figured out on his reasoning.

"Let's do it."

"Yeah?"

"Yes," she grabs his hands in hers. "Let's make everything both of ours."

—\—

Three weeks later, House walks into an examination room in the clinic, already sick of moronic patients, and finds Arlene Cuddy standing before him. Half of him is surprised she had the balls to show up, the other half has been waiting for her to pull something like this.

"Bombarding me during clinic hours doesn't work now that I know who you are and can just leave."

"Don't leave," she demands. "We have to talk."

"Wow, is it Rachel's high school graduation already? They grow up so fast."

"We need to make peace."

"You need to make peace because you know you're losing," House corrects. "And because you know she's not going to cave this time."

"She's my oldest child. This is the longest we've ever gone without speaking. It's been months. Do you think that's healthy?"

"I definitely don't think it's healthy that you'd rather go months without talking to your daughter than apologize to her."

"This isn't a matter of a simple apology."

House sighs, puts down the obviously fake and useless file he's holding. "I really don't understand you," he tells her.

"What's so hard to understand?"

"You've told me before that you're glad that she has me."

"I am."

"You've got a funny way of showing it."

"This whole argument wasn't ever about you. It was about my granddaughter's safety."

"Bullshit," House calls her out. "It was about your obsessive-compulsive need to control Cuddy's life. Except this time you made two huge mistakes."

"Did I?"

"First, you brought up my leg. For the record, I've lived with it for a long time now, so I know what I can and can't do. I don't really care how you treat me because of it, but Cuddy does. The second you stooped that low, you guaranteed an all-out war with her."

"I do realize I should've asked you directly about carrying Rachel," Arlene concedes. "I was caught off guard and venting to Julia and I'm sorry that Rachel overheard us."

It's barely an admission of guilt, and a complete distortion of what happened. House believes Rachel over Arlene any day, but it's not worth getting into the technicalities. "Well, that's great. But your hissy fit also made it obvious you don't trust Cuddy to protect Rachel. You act like she's incompetent and can't make decisions about who she lets into Rachel's life. That was your second mistake. Because Cuddy doesn't seem to care how much you degrade her as a mother, but I do."

"I do not degrade her."

"It's too bad you never met my dad. He used to beat the shit out of me, by the way. And he would spew all kinds of verbal abuse. Cuddy and I have that last part in common. The difference is my dad's dead, but you're still kicking."

He doesn't know why it comes out of his mouth, and can hardly believe he's said it. It's a secret he keeps close to his chest. In fact, House can count the number of people who know about his father on one hand. But he needed a way to get Arlene's attention, and from the horrified, startled look on her face, he knows it worked.

For a few seconds, she says nothing. Then she recovers and musters up her outrage. "You cannot seriously be implying that I abuse Lisa."

"I'm not implying it, I'm saying it. Not physically. But verbally? I've witnessed it. You called her a slut at her birthday dinner in front of her daughter, her boyfriend, and her closest friend."

"She doesn't need to be coddled. I was making a point."

"I'm the president of the Cuddy-doesn't-need-to-be-coddled-club. But you don't tell her when she's wrong, you assume everything she does is wrong just because she's the one doing it. You visit to chastise her for what Rachel eats, for having a job she cares about, for being good at it. And let's not forget that while she was busy risking that job to save your life, you somehow found the time to tell her you like Julia better. And that her family isn't as important as Julia's."

"Then we talked," Arlene reminds him. "Things were getting better."

"Until your latest stunt. You have no idea the shit storm you caused this time. Rachel had nightmares, couldn't sleep in her own bed, didn't want to go to school. It's too late for Cuddy in a lot of ways, but you're not going to emotionally torture the next generation."

Arlene pauses, looks like she has an ace up her sleeve. "I heard a rumor that you took Rachel to the father-daughter dance."

"How could you have possibly heard that?"

"Julia sent me a picture Lisa posted on Facebook. The caption didn't mention where you two were going, but it wasn't that hard to put it together. Your reaction is my confirmation."

"What's your point?"

"I didn't realize you were so...committed."

"You miss a lot when you're making up your own narrative. Like the fact that I'm now her guardian. Or that your daughter and I just bought a house together. So the next time you ask who I am to Rachel, you should probably know, I have a legal say in whether or not you see her."

House thinks he may have finally rattled the fight out of Arlene Cuddy, which is going to the top of his list of achievements. She sits down on the examination chair with her purse in her lap. "Well then," she says. "Tell me what I have to do to fix it."

—\—

House orders Arlene not to approach Cuddy in her office, because he needs to be the one to talk to her first. When he lets Cuddy know what happened, she looks relieved that there could be a light at the end of the tunnel. They agree to meet Arlene and Julia after work at the park with Rachel, figuring a neutral location is best.

When they arrive, Arlene and Cuddy sit at a picnic table in order to talk things through, while Julia and House watch Rachel run around the playground. House wants to let Cuddy handle this herself, but still be close enough in case she needs him.

"I owe you an apology," Julia says, breaking the awkward silence between them. "I'm sorry for my part in this whole mess."

Julia is just a pawn in Arlene's games, House isn't really bothered by her. He's also never had many conversations with her, and isn't all that interested in starting now. He still feels compelled to tell her the truth. "You let your mom control you way too much for a grown ass woman."

"I need her. Lisa doesn't. She doesn't need me, either."

"She doesn't," House agrees. "She's still allowed to want her sister on her side."

"I am on her side," Julia insists. "It's just...sometimes I don't understand her. You understand her in a way I never will. Even Wilson understands her more than I do. I don't know what exactly bonds the three of you together, but it's stronger than blood. I only have mom. I can't stand up to her like Lisa can, because I don't have people to fall back on."

"You have a husband."

"And I love him. But we don't have what you and my sister have."

The statement intrigues him, not because he cares about Julia's marriage, but because he doesn't know what she means. "What do we have?"

"I don't even know — but it's rare. The intensity. The trust. The history. The way you're in sync. I've never seen anything like it."

House tries to process her assessment, but he hears Cuddy's voice behind him and can tell that something is wrong. Maybe the fact that he can sense her distress without even seeing her is exactly what Julia is referring to. "I'll be right back, gotta check on the warring Cuddys."

He walks the few feet over the picnic table where it's obvious the conversation has taken an intense turn. "Everything okay?"

"It's not going to be okay overnight," Cuddy answers him, though it's obviously directed towards Arlene. "She needs to accept that and stop pushing me."

"You do need to accept that," House backs her up.

"I want you in Rachel's life, mom. But I need to be sure that things are going to change this time."

"You're punishing me," Arlene complains. "You're using this one incident as an excuse to finally push me away for good."

"No, that's not true. I'm scared my daughter is going to get hurt again."

"Rachel!" They suddenly hear Julia call out, causing all three of them to turn. "Get back here!"

House sees Rachel chasing after a bunny, getting dangerously close to the road. Without thinking about it, it takes off after her. He doesn't know how he does it. He just drops the cane and goes. It's not exactly a run, more like a very fast limp that makes him look ridiculous, but that's not what he's concerned about. Rachel stops before the road because she sees him coming for her and realizes she must be doing something very wrong for House, who can't run, to be barreling towards her. Rachel's eyes go wide as he scoops her up and collapses on the ground, barely able to catch his breath. His leg is already throbbing so bad he thinks he might pass out, but Rachel is safe in his lap. She hugs him and tells him she's sorry.

The three Cuddy women stand above him a few seconds later, shocked at how fast he got to Rachel. Arlene smirks, looking amused, despite the potential disaster they just avoided. "I get it," she says emphatically. "Rachel is safe with you. You already won the argument. You don't need to show off."

House laughs through the pain. This was about my granddaughter's safety, he remembers Arlene saying. He probably won't be able to walk for the next week, but it was totally worth it. For them to witness just how far he'd go for the kid. For the shit eating grin Cuddy has on her face.

Rachel climbs off his lap.

Arlene offers him her hand and helps him up.

It's not quite a truce, but maybe...maybe it's a start.

—\—

That night, House lays with an ice pack on his thigh and Rachel asleep on his chest. She didn't ask to sleep in their bed, but House wanted her there, for reasons he's not sure he even understands.

"She asked to sleep with us?" Cuddy questions, as she walks towards them in her pajamas. "I thought she was already in bed. Is she okay?"

"She's fine."

"Oh my god. You avoided that first question. You brought her in here, didn't you? Do you miss her sleeping on you?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Her sleeping in here is the worst."

Cuddy sees right through him, like she always does. "You're so cute when you're lying about Rachel."

He's embarrassed all of a sudden. "This is stupid. I can put her back."

"Don't you dare move."

Cuddy climbs into bed and he feels relieved that the three of them are together in their safe space, especially because their nights in this room are quickly coming to an end. In a week they'll move into their new home as a family, make a whole new safe space for themselves. As he thinks about their impending future, realization washes over him. House understands exactly why he wanted Rachel with them tonight.

"When Rachel sleeps in here, everyone I love is in one place. And safe. I can turn off my brain because I know nothing bad will happen, at least until the morning."

Cuddy starts dramatically looking around for something.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Everyone you love? I'm looking for Wilson."

"Very funny. Wilson can fend for himself if the zombie apocalypse strikes."

"That's what we're preparing for?"

"Yup."

But Cuddy knows what's on his mind is much deeper than that. "What are you thinking about? Besides zombies."

"About the next time Rachel learns something about me that will turn her world upside down. This time it was your mom and my leg. Wait until Uncle Wilson accidentally tells her that I'm a drug addict that once ended up in a mental institution."

"House."

"I just wish there wasn't so much about me that we have to explain to her."

"When Rachel is old enough to understand, and if you decide you want to tell her everything you've been through, she's going to be so proud."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know."

"How?" House pushes, unsatisfied by her vague platitude.

Cuddy reaches out to him, puts her hand on his stubbled cheek. "Like mother, like daughter," she says.

And House knows he can't argue with that.