Much of your pain is self-chosen.

It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.

Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility:

For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,

And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears.

Kahlil Gibran

Chapter 61

Cuddy went to sit on the edge of the bed. Her hand gently soothing him, she brushed the hair away from his face and he closed his eyes with a sigh.

"What a damn ear load…" he rasped, turning his face toward her hand he kissed it, but when he opened his eyes, they were still emotionless.

"Do you want to talk to Dr. Joseph? I'm sure he would come back."

"Hell no, not even Joseph can talk this away. I kept trying to convince myself that maybe what my father did wasn't so bad, perhaps I was too sensitive, perhaps I was just looking at the bad parts… then hearing mother go through those same rationalizations just made me nauseous. You know what's really fucked up? She probably feels like she bared her soul. She gave me a lot of information I never knew. But in the end she'd rather take the blame herself than say what he did was wrong."

"Yes, you're right. She tried though, House. She made an effort. For her it was huge. Denial is very strong. It's part of the whole…"

"Cycle of abuse. I know. I know. I do give her points for effort, by admitting he was tough on me and went too far. That is probably about as much as I'm ever going to get from her. Far more than I ever expected."

"Well, at least you realize…"

"Yeah, I realize, but why do I still feel so screwed up?"

"You need acknowledgment and validation. You got a hint of it but not enough; she didn't deny the things your father did. I hate to say it, but that was huge for her. Your father did have some issues of his own, House," she said gently, stroking his shoulder and running her finger tips comfortingly down his arm following the tracery of veins.

"Doesn't everyone?" he said sarcastically. "Okay, okay granted, he was tortured, he tortured others, but that doesn't give him a pass. I wouldn't expect that you would give me one. No matter how messed up my childhood was or wasn't. I myself have reacted and made choices as screwed up as my Dad's. If I ever did anything to threaten Rachel or the baby, I fully expect you'd have my ass out the door so quickly my head would spin. Am I wrong?"

"No you are not wrong, but I hope I'd try to get help for you even while I am protecting our kids."

"I hope that will never be necessary. I would take myself out if I ever thought I had harmed them, Cuddy. I don't want to perpetuate this."

"House," Cuddy said, trying to hide her alarm at his even mentioning suicide. "I don't think you could ever hurt the kids, I wouldn't be here if I did," she insisted.

"I know," he said gently touching her stomach, "carrying my child is a testament of your belief in me. No matter what happens in the future, I will never forget your love and your trust in me," he said, cupping her face as she curled into him. In his eyes she saw for a moment a leap of flame as true and blue as a gas flame.

"You asked me House. To have your baby, to be your wife, to be Rachel's father. That is a testament to your belief in yourself," she replied, trying to sound sure instead of anxious.

"Yes," he said, "but belief fluctuates," he admitted, his eyes sliding away from direct connection with hers.

"I have something for you," she said stepping away to reach into her bag. She handed him a huge poster board, which had been folded to make a handmade card. The front was a collage of pictures and drawings. "It's from Rachel. She misses you a lot."

House looked at the pictures that had been cut from magazines. "Penguins, and Pirates," he said with a laugh. Loads of Penguins. Real Penguins, Happy Feet Penguins, Penguins Skiing, and playing instruments and singing. He saw a box of Cheerios, a feed the monkey game, a monster truck. He was amazed that she had pictures of all the things they had done together. She remembered everything. When he opened the card, it said "My family" with an arrow pointing down to drawing of Cuddy and Rachel and him, and laughed out loud at Cuddy's exaggerated baby bump. "Get well soon so we can have some fun!"

"I can't decide if she will be an artist or musician."

Cuddy felt a bit better because she was able to leave him with a smile on his face.

She had barely cleared the door when she immediately called Dr. Joseph, House's psychiatrist and felt better after she got off the phone. Joseph seemed to think House had handled it well and since he had a regular session in two days, it could wait unless she noticed something like he was showing signs of anger, depression or isolation. Then she talked to Foreman and Tennant who told her House was well enough to go home.

When Cuddy got back to House's room, she found him still in a great mood and Rachel's card had been put in a place of pride on his bulletin board.

"Guess what?" she said. "You are being released tomorrow! That should cheer you up!"

"About that. I think I'd like to stay at my place for a couple of days. I've made arrangements for a private nurse."

"You want to go home to your apartment? Why? We're ready for you at home. We've been planning and I can work from home the rest of the week."

"See, that's exactly what I am trying to avoid. I don't want to cause any trouble. You have been practically living here at the hospital. You have to take care of yourself too, Cuddy," he said gently touching the dark circles under her eyes. "I don't want you waiting on me. If I go to my place, I can have a nurse and it's all on one floor," he said being all too reasonable.

"House, we're married now. I know you still occasionally need alone time, but this is not about that. You have been in the hospital for almost two weeks. I want you to come home. You think I will rest better with you somewhere else at night? Do you really?"

"It's just a couple of days Cuddy. When I come home I want to be ready to be the husband and father I want to be…"

"Sad," she said quietly, realizing he was still suffering the effects of the conversation with his mother.

House you don't need to be perfect or happy to be with us. You just need to be you. You think you need to be alone, but you don't."

"Cuddy, please let me be the judge of it," he said quietly but determinedly.

"Okay, House" Cuddy capitulated with raised hands, remembering what Joseph had said about isolation. They would just have to go to him.

The next day, Cuddy was wheeling House down the hall when there was a sudden commotion at the opposite end of the corridor and a pint sized pinball bounded from one side of the corridor to the other dexterously avoiding gurneys, wheelchairs and lunch and linen delivery carts on the way. It was not until they heard the distinct but joyous word "House" that that both, simultaneously said "Rachel" and focused on the speeding figure, her arms spread wide and her small, determined chin leading the way. Rachel raced towards them arms spread in airplane mode, as medical personal melted to the sides of the corridor to avoid being mowed down. The last 10 yards was a mad dash, her dark hair streaming out behind her; she looked like some flying creature, buoyed up by a combination of joy and pain, a product of heaven and hell. Angel's grace with a devil smile, she seemed to be on wing toward him even the though the pounding sound of her Keds encased feet belied the image. To House she looked as eager and aching in her mad dash as she had looked running on the beach towards the ocean. Was he her ocean? Was he her freedom?

He felt a tight ball in his chest, remembering how he had initially resented her presence. But somehow, for some reason, she had chosen him, and wound a tendril around his heart as strong, true and difficult to kill as the kudzu vine. Strangely enough she stopped dead five inches from him as if she was uncertain what to do with all her pent up emotion. Her eyes were huge and they ate his face.

"Rachel, you were supposed to stay in the car with Marina."

"I had to go to the bathroom," she said insistently but never removing her eyes from House. "Mommy says you are not coming home right away," she said her lip pouting, while big blue eyes guilted him shamelessly. "I promise not to bother you."

"It's not you," he said gently, reaching out to affectionately tug her hair, while she leaned into him like a confiding kitten.

"Mommy said ant biotics killed your bugs so I can see you now."

"Bugs," he exclaimed on a laugh.

"I was going to be your nurse, but Marina took me by the gift shop and they had doctor's uniforms too. See," she said pulling out a plastic pack containing what looked like a small white coat and stethoscope."

"That's great! So you wanted to be my doctor not my nurse?" he said, slanting an amused glance towards Cuddy.

"I can still nurse you too, or at least bring meals. Mommy does even though she's a doctor. I know you need vitamins and juice. I have plenty of Flintstones chewables. You can have some Freds even though he is my favorite. I think you might need at least six, so you might have to take a few Barneys and Dinos too" she said looking at his height with studious consideration.

"Juice and vitamins. I need some real food," he teased.

"Oh, I have Beefaroni. That'll be good."

"Why Beefaroni?" Cuddy asked.

"Because you said his 'mune system needed beefing up," she said giving her mother a matter of fact glance.

"You don't have to worry about me at all. I will have a nurse to come home with me."

"Yes! So you are coming home?" she squealed, jumping up and down as she held one of his hands.

"I guess I have to since you've made so many plans," he said sheepishly.

"Goody. Since I'm the doctor, I can give the nurse instructions. Like a boss," she said with a cheeky smile.

"My girl," he teased. "Sounds familiar but distinctly like trouble," he said meeting Cuddy's glance with eyes of devilment and a smile of capitulation.

"No trouble," Rachel insisted, prancing beside the wheel chair as they rolled toward the elevator. "I promise not to be as bossy as Mommy."

House's laugh rang down the corridors, causing the medical personnel to clear the corridor once again. They gathered in whispering groups their eyes following the family's progress. "Then it's true," they whispered. House really had, had a personality change.

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