A/N: This is it! First of all, I just want to say thank you to all of my readers and the people who have taken the time to actually review this story. The awesome feedback I've gotten has kept me going with the writing, and actually made me want to write more! I'm not a big fanfic writer, but really enjoyed writing out this whole saga. You know it came to me in a dream one night, after watching House and the movie "The Deep End of the Ocean?" Seriously though, THANK YOU - you guys know who you are.

I'm not sure when my next fanfic piece will come, but I'll definiately write more in this fandom should I get some more ideas. But now? It's time to make last minute preparations, then I'm off to vacation in Lake Tahoe. THANK YOU! 3 3

Ch 17 - Epilogue

I've realized that it's completely pointless to ask why she did it.

Uncle Jimmy once told me the real Allison had disappeared eight years ago, when I was brought to live with David and Marie. He said she'd gone from hopeful, to sad to downright depressed in a matter of months which led to her first attempt at suicide. Even after my return, she wasn't the same. Never seeking help for what she'd gone through, all the life in her had disappeared. She put on that fake happy routine and tried to act happy, but it was still there - the depression - lurking in the shadows...just waiting to reappear. When Vogler took me that day at school, it had been the breaking point. I assume she wasn't thinking very clearly the day she burst into the warehouse. All I know is - she saved my life...

I woke up in a drug induced haze the morning after "the incident."

Events from the previous afternoon were scattered through my head like an unfinished jigsaw puzzle - begging to be put together. The hideous cracking sound and immense pain as Vogler stepped down on my injured leg, waking up briefly to see faint visions of my Uncles Chase, Eric and Jimmy standing over me, the debilitating dizziness, my father sitting next to me, a brief vision of my mother, gunshots, the princeton-plainsboro emergency room, the feeling of morphine entering your veins - just unbroken pieces.

The most vivid dream though, was that of my mother.

I vaguely remember lying on an operating room table and then darkness. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in the same tunnel I had visited months ago during my first accident. At the end of the tunnel, a bright white light shone brightly - it's mere presence comforting. At the other end of the tunnel, darkness and the sound of beeping monitors. Around me, people were walking through the tunnel towards the white light - some turning around and walking towards the darkness. I began my walk towards the light and ran smack into somebody. This person grabbed my hand and looked up at me - it was my mother, smiling.

"Don't be afraid Allie," she said, "I'll be okay. I won't be around anymore, but I'll always be with you."

"Mom," I said, "No..."

"Take care of your father," she continued, "Don't let him blame himself. I know he's not the best at showing his feelings, but don't push him - let him come to you. Most of all, please tell him that I love him and have since the day he found me crying over that centrifuge."

I nodded.

"I know you'll be alright. You always were just like your father, I know you'll find a way to overcome what life will be throwing at you the next couple of weeks. You've got a lot of people on your side, and they'll be there for you. I did this so you could have a chance at a future Allie - you deserve it." she finished.

I just stood there staring at her, till she reached over and gave me a hug.

"I love you," she said one last time before running towards the light.

I screamed her name, but was sucked back towards the darkness.

I awoke in the intensive care unit moments later.

I hurt in about a million places, but it never registered to me what was missing.

My Uncle Chase entered the room at that moment, and walked towards the bed to take my vitals. It was seconds later that I realized my leg was missing.

Even worse than the feeling of horror that was slowly creeping in, was the feeling that my leg was STILL THERE.

If Vogler wasn't already dead...as soon as I got out of here I'd kill him myself, I remember thinking to myself.

"Uncle Chase," I started.

He was looking at me, waiting for me to finish the sentence.

"Where's my mom?" I asked him softly.

He sighed and dodged around the question by asking me how I was feeling.

A moment later my dad appeared at the doorway. The look on his face told me all I needed to know.

We never talked about the rest of that night.

He lied next to me on my hospital bed and we cried. It was strange, seeing that much emotion coming from my father that wasn't anger or sarcasm. I woke up hours later, and he was gone. Remembering what my mother had said, I wasn't upset that he had disappeared, I knew he needed his space.

The weeks that followed were to be some of the most memorable weeks in my entire life.

I slowly recovered from all the other minor injuries I had suffered and concentrated souly on one thing - learning to walk again.

The first time I laid eyes on my new fake leg, I was completely disgusted.

I sat in the physical therapy room, wearing it and completely unwilling to get up and walk with a walker...of all things. Uncle Eric called it the "House Pride" disease, telling me he was surprised it took so long to show up. I looked at him with a glare and told him to piss off, I wasn't going to walk with a walker - I was going to stay in my bedroom for the rest of my life, not be seen with this peg leg. He sighed and left for a few moments.

I don't know why I was being so stubborn. I didn't know what I was suppose to be feeling. My mother is dead, my father is never here because he's afraid to face me, Uncle Jimmy won't stop being so fucking supportive and NICE... I found it easier to shove away all of those thoughts with defensive tactics.

"Alexandra Anne House, get your ass out of that chair"

I turned and found myself face to face with my father. His eyes stared down into mine, challenging me to do otherwise.

"Like you care," I said.

He sighed loudly, the next movement shocking the hell out of me.

He pitched his cane as hard as he could, across the room (and into a very expensive looking piece of gym equipment, causing it to give a loud electronic groan - my Aunt Lisa was going to kill him...) and stood up. He held his hand out to me.

If I hadn't of been laced with so many drugs at the moment, I probably would have cried. He stood next to me and limped along as I took my first few steps on my new leg - I assume, realizing exactly how I was feeling at the current moment.

I sat down in my wheelchair, exhausted, a few minutes later. He just looked at me and grinned.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"I'm not the only one with a gimp anymore! It'll be cool - the cripple brigade of princeton-plainsboro! Killing happiness with sarcasm anywhere we go!"

I took one look at him and smiled.

He was going to say something, but my Aunt Lisa entered the room at that very moment.

I laughed quietly and wheeled myself out of the room, to the shouts of my Aunt Lisa and the exact prices it took to replace a gym treadmill.

We buried my mother's ashes two days after I was released from the hospital.

Aided by a cane, I stood next to my father as the minister spoke the last words of the graveside service.

It was heartbreaking to watch my father run his hand down my mother's coffin, speaking quiet words that only he could hear.

"Take care of your father Allie"

I would do just that.

I spent so much time after my first return to my parents, worrying about what I was going to do with my life...the past. I realize now though, that I needed to put the past aside and move forward. Concentrate on my future - the future that my mother had given me. A future I'd have the rest of my life to figure out.

I walked a few steps closer to my father and grabbed his hand. Hand in hand, we walked through the graveyard towards the future. What it held was uncertain, but whatever it was - at least we would get the chance to face it...together.

xxx

PRESENT DAY

I sighed and looked again at my watch.

For the past three hours, I'd been toiling away in my least favorite place in the world, waiting for him to save me. Instead of doing my job, I'd been working on my manuscript - it was only time before someone would catch on that I wasn't doing my job.

Deciding to clear up the remaining paperwork and hide, I suddenly felt a pair of hands close themselves around my eyes.

"Hey beautiful, it's time to go, they're almost done!"

I turned around to meet the eyes of my fiancé, Dr. Anthony Chase.

"Not in public, I've got a hard-ass reputation to uphold!" I said, though I allowed him to place a small kiss on my lips.

I smiled and let him hold my hand as we walked through the hallway to the elevator. He was after all, the "man of my dreams" - as my friends put it.

I couldn't believe that in three short weeks, I would be marrying Anthony. My Uncle Chase's eyes had bugged out the night I told him his oldest son and I would be getting married. We'd known each other almost all of our lives - Uncle Chase had adopted him from Australia shortly after my mother's funeral. One year on me, we became fast friends. "Inseparable" was the word my father used, slightly annoyed that I would become daughter in law to the "crazy wombat's offspring."

My father was now seventy three years old and going strong.

Though he spent most of his time in a wheelchair, he had been very insistent on walking me down the aisle. He said it was the last thing he wanted to do for his daughter, before she went off to start her own life. As if he'd need to give me any more. He has stood by my side through it all - the whole childhood ordeal, losing my leg, a year of dialysis, a kidney transplant - his mere presence was enough for me.

Getting off on the fourth floor, Anthony and I made our way down the corridor.

Waiting right in front of the conference room and office, was my dad in his wheelchair, my Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Lisa (they married the summer I turned 16), and my Uncle Chase. My Uncle Eric had wanted to be here, but couldn't fly in from New York due to work. A man had his back to the glass door, working away.

I let go of Anthony's hand, and gave him a kiss. I ignored the look of disgust on my dad's face, instead choosing to laugh.

The voice of the workman at the door broke our laughter. "All finished," he said, picking up a small workbag and walking off down the hallway.

Surrounded by the people I cared the most about for this exact moment, meant the world to me. I smiled at all of them, then looked in triumph at the newly finished office door:

Alexandra House, M.D.

department of diagnostic medicine

xxx

I'm at peace here - wherever here is.

Time passes quickly here...years go by in the blink of an eye. I spend my days in peace, knowing I'll see them again one day. Until then, I can simply watch - watch as they go on with their lives.

I've watched my daughter grow up from little girl. I watched on the day she graduated high school, the day she graduated college, the day she finished medical school and the day she finished her residency and became the youngest department head at Princeton-Plainsboro. The little girl I worried so much about - worry that she would never find her place - thrived. I watched House as he stood by her side during everything - becoming a completely different person as the years went on...much more willing to show his feelings. Though he visited my grave nearly every day, he didn't let what happened overpower him - he moved on. He became the father he always worried he couldn't be, and I was proud of him - proud of both of them. Proud to know I gave them the chance to actually move forward.

I never ask myself if I regret what I did.

I'm watching them right now. I smile to myself as I watch my daughter hug her family, then straighten her lab coat. House laughs at her and tells her she doesn't NEED to wear one. She just looks at him in the same amused way I used to. She kisses her fiancé goodbye and walks into the office - now her own. I watch as she takes off her lab coat, tossing it over the back of her desk chair. She walks to her cd player and grabs a pair of headphones, selecting a track by the Clash and putting them on her head. She gingerly eases herself onto the ground, lies flat on her back and props her legs up on the desk.

I laugh to myself - it must be genetic.

My little girl listens to the music, playing the imaginary drums in the air for a few moments before stopping. She looks around the office, looks at her newly inscribed office door, and sighs. She then looks out the window, up into the clouds and smiles.

No...I don't regret it at all.

-FIN