I just couldn't resist writing this story after it came to my head. (I know, I'm stocking up in piles here!)

Summary: Shelby Trista House is Allison and Greg's first-born daughter. She's as hardheaded as House, yet can be as sweet as Allison. So what happens when their strong-willed and strong-headed daughter falls into the trap of seizures and more and her own two parents can't even figure out what's going on?

Please enjoy! No flames are allowed!

Gregory House was normally not up at the early morning hour of two in the morning. He usually slept in until noon at the most when he didn't have to work at Princeton Plainsboro. He couldn't remember the last time (since his wife, Allison had been pregnant with their two kids, Shelby Trista and Greg Jr.); he'd gotten up so very early in the morning.

But the call of his six-year-old daughter, Shelby had woken him from the start. Shelby had red-brown hair and his electric blue eyes. She was as strong-willed and hardheaded as her dad, but she had the sweetness and patience of her mother. She was Allison and Greg's first born from their four-year-old son, Gregory Alexander Jr., and she was their baby girl.

House knelt beside his daughter's bedside and looked at her tired, pale expression on her face. "What's the matter, kiddo?" he asked her gently.

Shelby only held out her arms and let out a weak, "Daddy…"

Greg lifted her carefully out of bed and just sat on the floor in front of her bed, sitting her comfortably on his good leg and holding her close to him. Shelby's head immediately dropped onto his chest, as if heavy. House made a worried expression. "Gonna tell Daddy what's wrong?"

Shelby only shook her head. She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to move. She pretty much didn't want to do anything.

House felt her forehead. "You feel warm, there, Shel. Is that's what's bothering you?"

Shelby nodded. "Daddy…"

"Hmm?" Greg felt her back next, which felt like the beginning of a burning furnace.

"Sick?"

This question knocked bricks down on Greg. Never in all the times had Shelby been born had she been sick. It was just one of those things that had never happened to her before.

"I don't know, kiddo," he answered, lifting himself up with Shelby's head on his shoulder and her legs wrapped around his waist. "Let's just go check, though to be safe, okay?" he asked, heading down the stairs.

Shelby nodded and stuck her thumb in her mouth. Greg rolled his eyes. "How many times have I tried to break you of that habit?"

Shelby shrugged.

"I'll let you do it today, seeing as you're not feeling too bright," he told her, planting a small kiss on her hot forehead. "Okay?"

"'Kay…" Shelby mumbled.

House stepped into his bedroom, Allison still sleeping as soundly as ever, and stepped into the bathroom. "Let's see…. where did Mommy put the…gotcha," Greg mumbled to himself, shifting through the medicine cabinet for a thermometer. He took it out of the cabinet and presented it in front of Shelby. "Open up, Girly," he pleaded gently. Shelby opened her mouth slowly and Greg placed it under her tongue. "Good job. I'll make a doctor outta you yet," he smiled jokingly.

Within moments, the thermometer beeped and House took it out of Shelby's mouth and read it. "Oh, boy. No wonder you're mopey today. 101.2's not comfortable, huh?"

Shelby shook her head and slung her free arm over Greg's neck.

"Want a drink, Girly?" was House's next move. If she wasn't thirsty, she wasn't feeling good at all.

"No…hot, Daddy," Shelby mumbled.

"Okay, I gotcha covered, Shel. Don't worry."

Greg tied Shelby's long hair into a messy ponytail to keep it out of the way and keep her cooler. He then grabbed a washcloth from the drawer and drenched it in ice-cold water. After that, he made his way downstairs into the living room, sat on the couch, and settled Shelby's head on his good leg. He laid the cold cloth on Shelby's forehead. "That feel better, Chick?"

"Yes," Shelby closed her eyes.

"You sure you don't want something to drink?"

Shelby nodded and opened her eyes. "Daddy…."

Greg instantly became alarmed at the tone in Shelby's voice. "Yes, baby? What's wrong?"

"Daddy…" Shelby gasped, her hands suddenly thrown to her throat. "Can't breath…..Daddy!"

House jumped off the couch and knelt next to his gasping six-year-old. "Shelby…baby, listen to Daddy. ALLISON!"

"D—daddy…"

"Shhh…. it's okay," Greg tried to calm Shelby before things got anyworse and screamed desperatelyfor the second time (although, it seemed like the hundredth)ALLISON!"

Cya!

JayJay!