House could feel his hands shaking as he took his place on the witness stand. He stared out at the large crowd, only a small number he knew, and his eyes rested on his friends. Rowan looked strong, his back straight, his lion yellow hair combed but still wavy like Robbie's. Wilson smiled at him, radiating good vibes, as though they would win by sheer force of will. Cuddy looked like she wanted to kiss him. House looked to the other side of the courtroom. Three men in military uniforms sat stiffly in the third row. He recognised them from his father's parties. He had never been allowed downstairs for them. He'd be locked in his bedroom, usually after a painful reminder to be quiet and not to bother them. And especially not to tell. House shivered. Judge Martin banged his gavel on the table and the court fell silent, the tension palpable in the air. Picks stood up and approached House. He fiddled with his tie, slightly nervous. He knew he had no ground to stand on. His hand was bandaged, mostly hidden under his sleeve, and as he got close to the stand, House saw the shadow of a bruise on his jaw, the slight swelling around his eye. The younger man gazed at the older, concern written over his face, questioning. Picks blinked, unused to being under scrutiny.

"Gregory, I have some questions about your relationship with your mother"

"Okay..."

"What is your first memory of Blythe?" House thought for a moment

"We were in church when I was about three. She was playing the organ. I remember standing next to her, holding on to her skirt, watching her hands dance on the keys. I remember the thrill that came over me when I heard the music. I'd never seen anyone play properly before. We didn't have a piano, he banned music, so it was the first time I'd heard live music. That is one of my favourite memories"

"And what is your first memory of your father?"

"Actually, my very first memory of him is a positive one. I remember him taking me to the base on his shoulders. We'd just moved to Egypt, so I must have been younger than two. He showed me off to the other soldiers. I said my alphabet, recited the states and their capitals and said my times tables up to ten. I remember him smiling at me as though he was proud. I think he was proud" House looked at his father, who was lost in the same memory. A small smile glittered on the corners of his mouth. House brought his eyes back to Picks.

"Two good memories then. I want you to describe to me the first time you remember your father hitting you in anger, or what you consider to be out of proportion"

"I was about seven, I guess. I got a B on my report card. I was so scared walking home that day. He'd been saying horrible things for a couple of years by that point. I was worried he'd tell Mom I'd failed, that she'd be disappointed in me. Mom was out. I showed him the card and he sorta snapped. He didn't look like my Daddy anymore. He grabbed me by the throat and pushed me up the stairs to my room. He sat on my bed and made me pull down my pants. I didn't want to, so I started crying. He... He took off his belt and dragged my clothes off, pulled me over his lap and smacked me with the belt. I hurt so, so bad" he sounded like a young child "I cried properly then. He hit me a few more times, then shoved me off his knee and left. I stayed lying on my bedroom floor for hours, crying. I couldn't understand what I'd done, not really. I'd tried hard in the class. It was art, even. He would have hated it if I'd got an A in art"

"Do you really, really expect the court to believe that you have been severely physically abused for years and years, yet no one has ever noticed. Not your teachers, your peers, your mother, no one at all?"

"I'm telling the truth"

"Even if we stretch that far, getting strapped is not uncommon. My father did it to me, I'm sure your grandfather did it your father. It's a huge leap from that to regular abuse, and a larger leap from that to beating you almost to death and abandoning you on the front step. No father would ever do that. It's just not conceivable"

"So it can't be true because it's just too bad?"

"Exactly. No child could endure that anyway, you'd be a wreak!" Picks looked as though he was getting splinters in his fingers digging the bottom of the barrel.

"I'm not exactly well adjusted!"

"You'd be in a mental institution, you'd be depressed, you'd have a doctor for your mental health. You don't seriously expect us to believe not only that you have been through this very real to others ordeal, but you have come out the other side with no lasting damage?" Picks spread his arms wide, questioning. His sleeve rode up and made his bandaged hand visible. He looked almost hysterical.

"No. Actually, I have seen a doctor about it. We talked for a long time. He really helped me" House looked directly at Rowan. The older man smiled slightly and nodded.

"You mentioned earlier being coerced into doing things you didn't want to do. What form did this coercion take?"

"Mainly threatening my Mom, or later Wilson and Cuddy. He'd demonstrate on me. A lesson learned with pain is better than one learned without, he'd say. That usually got me into doing what ever it was he wanted me to do. Like lying to a teacher or keeping my mouth shut about our relationship"

"I-I have no further questions your honour" Picks said, sweat beading on his forehead. House bit his lip. He had his suspicions. Hopefully the verdict would be in his favour, or more than one person would be in trouble.

"Thank you Mr Picks" Martin said. The lawyer say down, and House followed him, Turing to the left to sit by Wilson. "The jury will now make their verdict. You will be called back when a decision has been made" the room stood up, and Cuddy turned to House.

"He hardly asked you anything" she said, confused.

"Let's go outside. We'll talk about it in private" they, Wilson and Rowan exited the room and found a quiet corner of the courthouse. "I think my dad hurt his lawyer"

"What?" Cuddy squealed

"Shhh. Look, Pick's has a bandage on his hand, a bruise on his jaw. I think Dad threatened him, you know, for if he lost"

"He's not allowed. He could go to jail" Wilson said

"I know"

"What do you want to do about it?" Rowan asked his student kindly, handing him control of the situation on a silver platter.

"I think... For the moment, lets leave it. I'm starving" he hesitated, unwilling to leave anther in a potentially dangerous situation, but needing desperately to get away from the pressure of the court room.

"Then lets go get food" Rowan put his arm around House and led him away from the big doors. They went into the cafeteria and wasted an hour chatting, no one saying anything of importance or depth. Cuddy would occasionally squeeze his hand, giving him much needed reassurance. Time seemed to drag on, the conversation running dry. After almost two hours, House got a text. The jury was back. He stood up quickly, looking pale. He hadn't expected them back so soon.

"Jury's made a decision" he said. The group stood up, and they walked in total silence to the court room. Picks was seated next to John, his chair pushed as far away from his as he could manage. John sat ramrod straight, just as he had sat at so many 'family' meals, forcing his son to eat spoiled food. House sat down in his row, surrounded by his friends. He looked around. To his surprise, Blythe had come to sit quietly behind him. They smiled a tiny smile of mutual understanding, forgiveness and love before she looked away. House clocked Cuddy, still gripping his hand firmly, Wilson biting his left finger nails, and Rowan, smiling casually as though nothing would faze him. They were strong, and they were there for him. He thought about the people who weren't there like Robbie at home in Australia. He smiled a little at the thought of the rambunctious blonde boy. Judge Martin sat down in his large chair, and the rest of the court followed suit. Cuddy clutched his hand tighter as the chief juror stood and opened a small white envelope.

"We find the defendant..."

"No way they actually stop like on T.V.!" Wilson whispered into the dramatic silence.

"Guilty of the battery and assault of Gregory House and the extended child abuse and neglect of Gregory House" the room seemed to jump to their feet in one movement. A cheer spread around the court. House remained sitting, stunned, whilst Cuddy wrenched his arm up as she leapt into the air.

"Holy shit we won!" Wilson cried uncharacteristically, grabbing a stunned House's shoulders and shaking him slightly. House heard Blythe let out a sob from behind him, and decided to ignore her, a smile spreading over his face. He was free. His father would never hurt him again, could never touch him again. They all believed him. There was a sudden crash from the other side of the room, and they all swung round to see John House sitting on top of Picks and punching him in the face with alternating fists. Picks was crying, his lip bleeding and his hands trying to block his face. Within seconds, House had vaulted over the dividing half wall and had launched himself onto his father's back.

"Get off him you bastard!" He yelled. John was so surprised he stopped immediately, rolling over so he was on top again, pinning his son to the ground, spit flying from his mouth, his hair out of its sleekly gelled parting, his shirt as rumbled as House's own. They were separated quickly by the bailiffs and guards, John trying in his frenzy to hit his son. Not a single blow landed on House before the older man was dragged away from the not silent room. House extended his hand down to Picks, who was snivelling in a ball on the floor. He flinched away, but looked up to see the much kinder face of the younger House. House pulled him up.

"Thank you, for not doing anything underhanded. I'm sure he was very convincing"

"Sorry. You know. For fighting his side. I didn't like him. I believed you from the start"

"Thanks" they shook hands and House went back to his friends. "You're looking at me like I've got two heads or something" he accused, reaching for Cuddy's hand, his smile reaching his bright blue eyes. Together, with the three best friends taking the lead, they left the courtroom, leaving John and House's pain behind them.

-The End-

Thank you so much for sticking with this story, especially those who have been with me from the very begining. There will be a sequel, and probably a prequel, and maybe some more about his time in Australia. In the sequel there will be Robbie as a teenager, developing Huddy and House escaping from his memories of John. Hope you had as much fun on this as I did!