Dear Readers, This is an older story that I didn't post here because it is very dark and full of angst. I hope you still enjoy it. Thanks, Kim

In Dreams

Chapter 1

Blast from the Past

In dreams, House often saw her as she was when she first came into his life, a tiny thing, all smiles, golden curls, bright blue eyes and little turned up nose. She giggled and squirmed, climbing into his lap, smearing jam and honey on his face from her messy kisses. She could be a royal pain, always asking questions, always wanting to tag along. He frequently complained, begging his Mom to keep her out of his room, stop her from following him, but he soon discovered that when she visited it was impossible to keep her away from him. They were, in some inexplicable way, forever connected.

On Thanksgiving and Christmas, he'd have to sit at the kid's table and cut up her turkey for her. She would talk non-stop, speaking girlish gibberish. He'd stuff his food into his mouth as fast as possible and then jump up, run into his room and hope that she didn't follow. It wasn't that he hated her; she was just a nuisance. He was eleven, almost twelve years old and hated toddlers; they weren't good for anything except non-stop chatter.

His first glimpse of her was on a sunny California Saturday, the kind you see in post cards. His Mom told him he couldn't go to the Teen Center because his Aunt Sarah and Uncle Nathan were coming from Huntington Beach for a visit. Despite his moaning, both his Dad and Mom insisted he stay to greet them.

Blythe House, patted his back, "You haven't seen them since they were married. You need to meet your cousin, Flynn."

"My cousin Flynn? I thought it was a girl?"

His mother nodded, "She is. Her father named her after his mother's side of the family, Flynn O' Flannery."

"Ah Mom, she's just a baby. Why do I have to stay and meet her? She won't even remember me."

His mother put her hand up on his head petting his reddish brown hair, "Your Aunt asked if you were going to be here. Obviously, she wants to see you and for you to meet her new husband. Please, Greg, don't disappoint her."

House moped around his room all afternoon with his headphones on listening to Frampton and looking out his window, through the fronds of the queen palm in from of his house, praying that his Aunt would show up soon so that he could say his hellos and get down to the Teen Center to listen to Doug's new Jethro Tull's Life's a Long Song cassette with his friends. He finally saw the 1969 Ford Maverick pull up at the curb in front of his house. Pounding down the stairs he yelled, "They're here! They're here." He pushed through the screened front door, followed by his Mom and Dad.

His Aunt Sarah, with her dark auburn hair and sparkling smile, was waving wildly from her perch in the passenger seat. House waved back at her just as he caught sight of the little imp in the back seat. Half of her head, from her nose up, was staring at him through the window. He had never seen anything before that looked so much like a fairytale creature.

As soon as Aunt Sarah opened her door, she flipped the seat forward for the elf to get out. The tiny creature quickly jumped to the curb, looking curiously at him. Bending down, his Aunt pulled the elf's dress down and straightened the pink bow in her curls. Aunt Sarah stood and turned, letting her forever present smile crawl across her lips, and, with the creature's tiny hand in hers, made a beeline for his Mom. They hugged and cooed, while the tiny nymph stared intensely at him with blue saucer eyes that both questioned and trusted simultaneously.

Aunt Sarah swung round, focusing on him, laughing and walking towards him, her free arm held out. She grabbed him and kissed his cheek, "Oh Greg, you got so big!" She shook her head at her sister, "Blythe, he's so tall! When did he get so big?"

His Mom nodded, "He shot up like a weed in Japan."

House rolled his eyes, "Great, if you two are done humiliating me, can I go to the center?"

Blythe stepped forward, "Greg! You haven't even said hello to your new cousin!"

Sarah looked down, "Greg, this is Flynn."

He knitted his brow, "Flynn sounds weird for a girl." He looked down, gave the child a small wave and staged smile.

Blythe swatted House's shoulder, barking, "Greg!"

Aunt Sarah leaned in, "I think it's a little weird too."

"Then why…?"

His mother growled, "Greg, don't be rude. Go ahead and go to the Center, just be home for dinner."

House looked down and was taken aback by the pathetically sweet smile the little girl was giving him. She seemed naïve, even for a two year old. Grabbing his bike, he hauled butt down the road, excited because he was still in time to meet up with Doug and the others at the Center to listen to the new album.

The Teen Center on base was a linoleum-lined room with large windows, three couches, a foosball table, a television and, best of all, an Akai stereo with turntable, eight track and cassette deck. There was another table for playing cards and board games. House loved the Center, he enjoyed being around older kids. He liked the fact that they listened to cool music, like Hendrix, Jethro Tull, the Stones, the Beatles, Led Zepplin and Cream. Doug, an older, taller, more blemished teen, frequently let House play his guitar, teaching him the famous rifts of the Clash, Pink Floyd and Clapton. The Center was House's escape from the constant arguing with his Dad and Mom and their feeble threats to send him to a private military school. He knew his Dad would never send him. Being a Marine Corps pilot meant his Dad was gone a lot, leaving House as the only family his mother had to keep her sane in his Dad's absence-not that he didn't drive his Mom nuts, but at least he was company for her.

School was a joke. They didn't know whether to hold him back because of his unexcused absences or to place him two grades ahead where his placement tests indicated he should be. The teachers hated him because, even at twelve, he was sarcastic and cynical, which is why the little elfin creature annoyed him. She was trusting; too young for cynicism to have seeped into her consciousness.

When he got home from the center, he found her curled up in his bed, her innocent golden head on his pillow, her white little legs wrapped softly in his blanket, the hushed sound of her breathing in his air. It was this image that haunted him more than the nightmare that replaced it. It was the image of her innocence, her lack of perception of the evil in this world. To House, she would forever be the elfin creature who breathed, captured, sucked in – his air.

x`x`x`x`x`x`x`x`x`x`x`

The dream, both good and bad, rarely invaded his life these days. But whenever the smell of Snickerdoodles entered his olfactory senses, or he heard the sound of someone laughing, giggling in that rolling high pitch of hers or felt the feathered touch of fingers on the back of his neck, the dreams would come back to torture him. It never failed.

He woke up in a sweat, his hand sweeping the vestige of the lone tear he had shed. He looked around, 3:49 in the morning. Going back to sleep was out of the question, the dream would just come back and make it worse.

Turning on the light, he pulled the burgundy leather address book from his night stand. Turning the pages he found nestled between Faulkner and Foreman, written in pencil, 'Flynn.' There were numerous signs of erasure, from years of her moving around. It was probably time to move her to another page; it was hard reading the numbers through the erasure marks. He picked up the phone and stared at it, knowing that this might not be a good idea. Taking a deep breath, he started to dial.

The phone rang; she turned on the light and looked at the red LED clock. Despite being incredibly groggy, she was also excited, it had to be him. Picking up the receiver, she growled, "Are you having the good dream or the nightmare?"

He snickered, "The semi-good one."

Sitting up in her bed, she looked over at the body next to her, trying to remember his name. She picked up the sheet and looked at his equipment, seeing if that would jog her memory; it didn't. Pulling the snow-white throw from the bottom of the bed, she walked over to the chaise lounge.

"Hello? Where'd you go?" he asked.

She spoke in a hushed tone, "I was just trying to get away from the bed so that I wouldn't wake—" She tried to think, retracing her steps, "—whatshisname."

House sighed, "Christ, not another one."

"Leave me alone. I'm entitled to a little fun." She wrapped the throw around her legs, "How are you Greg?"

"I'd be better if you'd stay out of my dreams."

She chuckled, "Then you may not like what I have to tell you, dufus."

He chuckled, "What? What could be worse than having a two year old haunting your life?"

"How about the 39 year old in real life?"

"You're coming to see me?"

"Worse. I'm coming back next semester to teach for a year."

He sat up, "Teach?"

"Don't faint." She laughed, "Princeton actually wanted me, so they're exchanging some poor sap professor with USC."

"Why would they want you?" He sounded unconvinced.

"Uh…you do recall the Pulitzer?"

"For that crappy novel you wrote?"

She chuckled; he'd berated her over and over about the novel, calling her a hack. "Yes, the crappy novel got me the gig at Princeton."

"Damn, I'm surprised they wanted you. Didn't you get suspended at USC?"

"Yeah, two weeks suspension for skinny dipping in the University fountain at 3:00 in the morning. Me and another faculty member were caught by security, I think they only hauled us in because of my male companion's shortcomings."

He smiled to himself, "So, when are you coming back?"

"Well, they've rented me a room for two weeks at Embassy Suites next month. I have to look for an apartment or house after that. Are you still in that one bedroom apartment?"

"Yes, thank God. It means I can't put you up."

"As if…" She watched the thirty-ish male in her bed roll over, lift his head and look over at her. The full moon was filling the room with a soft light. Disinterested, he lay down and rolled back over.

"There you go again, trailing off. Still trying to figure out who's in your bed?"

She was annoyed, "Shut up. Look, I'll be back in a few weeks. In the meantime, why don't you dream about me having hot sex with Mark Wahlberg or George Clooney?"

"Because I haven't seen you naked in years, I'm afraid of what your 39 year old body looks like."

"Let me give you a clue, it looks a helluva lot better than your 51 year old one. Now get lost, I think I want some of what this guy has to offer."

The line went dead.

He laughed as he slid back under the covers, turning the light out as he did. But, his laughter quickly turned to feelings of guilt. He knew that her reckless attitude towards her job, sex and life had cost her dearly. He could feel the guilt well up, knowing this reckless attitude had been the result of his own stupidity years ago.

x`x`x`x`x`x`x`x`x`x`x`x

In the back of his mind, he had expected her to call him back, let him know when she was coming. But, then again, it was Flynn and you couldn't expect anything from her. You just had to accept that she would do what she pleased and you'd find out about it later. Not that she intended to harm anyone. She just never fully understood the ramifications of everything she did.

House was sucking on a coke and reading the chart at the nurses' desk when the nervous cop approached him.

"Dr. House?"

He put the coke down, suspiciously eyeing the cop. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see both Cuddy and Wilson approaching, obviously concerned over the appearance of a cop within five feet of House.

Cuddy's shoes made a clip, clip sound across the floor as she hurried to his side, "Officer, can I help you, I'm Dr. Cuddy, Dean of Medicine. Do you have a problem with Dr. House?"

The cop shook his head, "No, Ma'am. We have a problem with a woman who claims to know Dr. House." The cop pushed the button on his lapel radio, "I found him; bring her in." He looked back at Cuddy, "We have a woman who claims that Dr. House will vouch for her and be responsible for her actions." The cop was surprised to see confusion pass over the three faces in front of him.

It was Wilson who couldn't help ask, "Is this a prank? You want Dr. House to be responsible for someone else's behavior? Is she a prostitute?"

The cop shrugged his shoulders, "The chief just said-"

There was a commotion as a cop and a woman came through the outside doors. The short haired blonde had her hands handcuffed behind her back as the cop occasionally pushed her along. Looking up the blonde connected with House, a spontaneous grin breaking out.

"Greg!" She ran straight into his chest, unable to hug him, she squirmed, "Come on idiot, hug me!"

He looked down at her, shaking his head, looking surprised, "I don't know this woman. Did she say she knew me?"

"She said you were her guardian ad litem."

House cocked his head and looked down at the blonde, then at the cop, "Guardian? This…" He pushed her away from him and deliberately looked at her breasts, "Appears to be a female of the human species, despite the ugly features and lack of grace. All my wards are male."

The cop was dumbfounded, not because House didn't recognize the woman, but because he insulted her so readily.

The blonde clenched her mouth shut and jumped deliberately on House's foot.

"Jesus Christ!" House shook his foot out in pain.

"Sorry Dr. House." The cop grabbed the woman and started to push her out the door.

Lisa Cuddy was confused; the woman looked familiar to her, very familiar. "House, she looks like …" Cuddy stopped, trying to think of whom she looked like.

Wilson, also confused and amused, watched as the woman tried to squirm out of the hold of the cops, looking over her shoulder in confusion at House. Wilson was about to say something when House finally yelled out.

"Officer! Wait! I do think I know this woman. Bring her back here." House waved the officer and woman over.

The officer sighed and pulled the blonde towards House.

Pretending to take a good look at her, he nodded, "Yeah, it's her. I know her officer. She's certainly aged a lot since I last saw her."

Flynn head-butted House in the chest, "Bite me! I'd rather go back to jail than be with you!"

House started laughing, "Yep, that's her. You can let her go. What did she do?"

"She assaulted a man who tried to jump in front of her in line for the taxis at the airport. She's a little inebriated."

House nodded, "Oh, that's definitely her. We've tried rehab; it just doesn't work for her. She just turns tricks with the guards for booze."

The policeman looked relieved that House was going to assume responsibility for the woman. He turned her around, uncuffing her wrists and handing her a piece of paper. "You can pick up your luggage anytime before 9 pm from the station. Well, Dr. House, she's all yours. Good luck."

The cops turned and took off, walking as fast as they could out the front doors, without appearing to run. Wilson and Cuddy looked at the blonde who had narrowed her eyes and clenched her teeth. Her fists were resting on her hips. House picked up his coke and started sucking as his blue eyes playfully watched Flynn's anger seethe up and bubble over.

He could tell that Flynn was just about to burst. Putting the coke down, he reached around her, picking her up in his arms and burying his face in her neck, blowing bubbles on it, making squeaking noises.

Cuddy shot a look of horror over at Wilson. Wilson shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

She squirmed, but he had her in a vice grip, knowing that if he didn't calm her down, she'd start flailing and beating on him. He held on and when the squirming and yelling slowed down, he whispered into her neck, "You sure look a lot older."

"Fuck you, Gregory House!"

Wilson nodded his head, "Yep, she knows him."

House waited until all the steam drained out of the wiry body he was holding next to his chest. He put her down and braced for what he knew would be her last Hallelujah punch. She didn't disappoint him, throwing a solid right that, if he hadn't blocked it with his arm, would have given him a good blow to the jaw.

She screamed and pulled her fist back, shaking out the pain, "Damn! That hurt. You S.O.B.!"

"You're drunk as usual." House said. He turned towards Wilson and Cuddy and saw that Cuddy had finally recognized Flynn.

"Oh my God! You're Flynn O'Flannery!"

Flynn patted herself down as if searching for something, "Yeah, I guess, apparently the sex reassignment surgery didn't work."

Cuddy stuck out her hand, "Dr. Lisa Cuddy, Dean of Medicine."

Cocking her head and narrowing her eyes, Flynn tried to take Cuddy's hand, but was weaving. Finally latching onto it, Flynn nodded, "Are you Greg's boss?"

Cuddy frowned, "Yes, did you come here to complain about him?"

Flynn nodded, "I have a lot of complaints about him. First, he refused to take me to my prom…" She started laughing uncontrollably.

House shrugged his shoulders, looking at his watch which read 4:10 pm. "I need to get her luggage and get her to the Embassy Suites." House took Flynn by the shoulders and turned her around to march her out the doors.

Cuddy put up a hand, "Wait!"

House and Flynn turned around. House watched as an almost giddy Cuddy approached him, pulling him over to the side.

Cuddy said under her breath, "You didn't tell me you knew Flynn O'Flannery. Can you arrange for us to all have dinner or something? I'd really like to talk to her, she's my favorite author."

House looked at the inebriated Flynn, barely staying upright on her feet. He sighed and nodded, "What will you give me if I do?"

Lisa shook her head and sighed, "Two hours off of clinic."

House knew he could milk some more out of her, "You pay for my dinner, Wilson's and hers?"

Lisa nodded.

"Okay then, four hours off from clinic and you pay for our dinner. Would you be available for dinner tomorrow night?"

Cuddy acquiesced immediately, nodding her head enthusiastically, "I'll make myself available."

"I'll let you know tomorrow morning for sure."

House drove Flynn to the police station, but she fell asleep on the way. He retrieved the luggage and drove her to the Embassy Suites where he woke her up to check her into the hotel.

"Come on Flynn, get your ass out of the car, you're home."

She moaned and turned away from him, curling up in the passenger seat.

"Flynn, you're annoying me, now get out." He grabbed her upper arm and pulled.

Flynn looked up, giving him a look of frustration, "Alright, alright!" She got out and stood, her weaving still noticeable, "Where's my luggage?"

"Back seat. Get it and let's get you checked in, I want to go home."

"Great. You don't see me for years and all you want to do is to get home?"

He pulled the luggage from the back, "I didn't want to see you now. A whole year of you is going to wear thin real quick."

She smiled up at him and closed one eye so she could focus, "Oh, Greg. You know you love your little cousin. Stop pouting, we're going to have some fun."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of!"

"Fun?"

"Your brand of fun. Now get your suitcases, I'm not your slave."

He walked ahead as she grabbed all of her luggage from the back. A porter quickly came out and helped. Within minutes she was checked in and was ensconced in her suite complete with little kitchenette that smelled like lemon cleaner. It had a small microwave, a coffee maker, counter, sink and refrigerator. Hanging over the couch was someone's pathetic attempt to convey a Monet-like afternoon in some tranquil park

Opening the microwave oven she put a finger to her cheek and batted her lashes, "Look Greg, I can cook us Thanksgiving dinner! Two Swansons and a six pack!"

"Are you done playing around? I want to get home, I'm hungry. I'll pick you up tomorrow night for dinner at six. Be ready." House yawned.

Her face fell, "But…aren't you going to stay and talk?"

"I've been at the hospital for the last 32 hours. I'm hungry and tired and I'm going to have a whole year to hear your gibberish, so I think I better rest up."

Even though she was disappointed, she had to laugh. Flynn knew that House was both kidding and telling the truth. She sometimes had a way of wearing out her welcome fast, burning a lot of bridges as she did. There was no doubt in her mind that he would tire of her gibberish.

"Okay, abandon me. I'll see you tomorrow at six. Jerk."

He turned and took off out the door, praying that she wasn't following, she wasn't. House allowed himself to relax until reality set in. His past had come back in the shape of a gorgeous blonde to torment him. Did she remember? Did she ever get back all her memories? In a way, he wish she would so he could come clean, take his punishment. On the other hand, he couldn't stand the thought that when she discovered what had happened, there would be a look on her face, the affirmation of his betrayal. As much as he loved her, in his own way, he wished she'd just go away.