Sorry for the long update. Real life stuff. Icky. But anyhoo, here is the next chapter and I hope I don't offend anyone but I'm trying to show Jaid's conflict with life and confusion. Also, I'll admit I haven't really planned a lot of this story out . . .

I happen to wake up moments before the door opens. Or maybe I woke up after. Or maybe I'd been awake for awhile but just really aware of it. You know how sleep is strange sometimes. Anyway my recollection of it is that I woke up moments before the doorknob turned with a squeak and some woman walked in. She is pretty, I guess. She has really blue eyes, like my . . . father, and like me. She is wearing a low-cut shirt but I wouldn't say it's slutty or anything.

I sit up and James' coat drops to my lap. I'm sure I look all tired with my hair all up in tufts and my eyes are half closed.

"Oh," the woman says, blinking at me. She purses her lips. "I see."

"Huh?" I say.

"Where's Wilson?" she demands.

"You mean James? I dunno, he said he was gonna do rounds."

She puts her hand on her forehead. "He should be done by now," she groans. "How long has this been going on?"

I look at the clock. "Um, about two hours, I guess."

She sighs. "You know what I meant. And how old are you? Sixteen?"

"I'm eighteen, thank you," I snap, glaring at her.

"He knows better than this," she mutters.

This is when James walks in the office. "Hey, Cuddy," he greets cutely and he smiles at me. "And how did you rest? Well, I hope?"

"Yes, thank you," I say politely, then hand him his coat. He takes it.

"Wilson, you can't be having sex with barely-legal girls on hospital grounds!"

"What? Why would you assume I had sex with her? She was just resting here."

Cuddy blinks and then she blushes. "I'm sorry. I just . . . Well, she has sex hair and she's in your office with your coat . . . I apologize for making such a hasty, er . . . for jumping to conclusions." She rubs her forehead. "I've just been . . Lucas has been strange lately and he wouldn't take no for an answer--I got to work late and Rachel was crying all night . . ." She sighs then smiles at him, and it looks fake. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken all that out on you."

James reaches forward and puts his hand on her shoulder and I feel a weird pang in my chest that I can't explain. "It's okay, Lisa. Jaid here was . . . Well, she needed to rest a bit. She's been having a hard time lately--her mother died and she's . . . unsure of how she gets along with her biological father."

Cuddy, or Lisa, looks between us. "Oh, is she--? I mean, is she your daughter?"

"No," we both say at the same time and Lisa Cuddy looks at me in confusion. "Um, House is my dad," I explain with a little shrug.

Her eyes widen and it looks like they sparkle. "House has a kid?" she whispers in awe, and that's when House--speak of the devil--bursts into James' office.

"Wilson, you'll never guess what--" He sees me on James' couch. His gleeful face changes into disgust and then anger in the matter of seconds. "Wilson!" he spits, then grabs his arm. "You slept with my kid?"

"No!" Wilson exclaims. God, why is everyone assuming I slept with James? I mean, hello, I'm a Christian! Well maybe they don't know that and my hair is kinda messy and I was in his office with his coat draped over me and he is kinda cute, so . . . I mean, not that I would ever had pre-marital sex or anything outrageous like that. "She was just resting! House, she's had a hard time lately and--well ,she was upset this morning, so I let her rest on my couch. I let you sleep on it all the time!"

House glared at him disbelievingly, then finally stepped away and looked at me. "Jaid? Did you two have sex?" he asks, staring at me studiously.

"What? No!" I exclaim, almost in disgust. When I realize how disgusted I'd sounded, I blinked. "I mean . . . no offence to you, James, of course I'm just . . . You know. A virgin."

"Saving yourself for marriage, then?" House mocks with a lip curl but instead of mocking me he's looking at James. When I nod, House scoffs. "Well, it won't be too long then."

"House!" Lisa (Cuddy? What should I call her?) reprimands with a glare in his direction.

House grabs James by the arm and leads him to this glass door that leads into a balcony. Lisa leaves, rubbing her temples. I sit on the couch awkwardly for a few seconds but then I get curious, so I move as close to the balcony door as I can and listen carefully.

". . . your type! Her mother died and she's living with people she doesn't know! She's been kicked out of college and dependent--"

"Here we go again, House--I'm not going to date her. I'm really not as addicted to needy women as you think."

"I swear, Wilson, if you date her--"

"House! She's eighteen!"

"She's needy!"

That's where I stopped listening. I stood away from the door and charged out of his office, lips pursed together. How dare he? How dare he sit around and discuss my 'love life' behind my back wit ha man I barely met and don't even know? And what's all this crap about me being needy? House doesn't even know me! He's sitting around making assumptions about me needing people, about being some needy, clingy, dependent person . . . Well, I'm having enough of this.

I've only known him for a day and he's already saying shit behind my back--making assumptions about someone he doesn't know--pulling his friend aside and telling him how to run his life . . . I mean, not that I would date James or anything but even if we do one day (highly unlikely) what concern is it of House's? he didn't raise me and the guy said he had no intention! And I'm not needy!

I leave Wilson's office and I see the woman on House's team--if House said her name I don't remember--and I walk past her, my shoulder knocking hers accidentally, and I start towards the elevator. I pound the call button and then she's next to me.

"Not having a good day?" she asks and she has an almost-smile on her face.

"Like you would know," I mutter and punch the button repeatedly.

"I work with House daily. I think I know how much of an ass he can be."

"Yeah well I just heard him telling James not to date me and then called his own daughter, which he's never attempted to get to know, by the way, a dependent, needy . . . I don't know, slut! They all just assumed I was going to have sex with some old guy I don't even know!"

"It wasn't you they were assuming was a slut," she tells me and sorta grimaces. "Wilson--well, James--he . . . Does have a reputation for being a ladies man and he does tend to . . . end up dating women he tries to help out of bad situations. Your mother dying and you being shipped off to live with a man you don't know after being kicked out of college? That's a bad situation."

I purse my lips. "Still, I just . . . I don't think this is going to work. Me and House."

"Jaid," she says, putting her hand on my shoulder. "Look, you're young an--"

"Oh, so what, that means I'm juvenile?" I snap, jerking my shoulder out of her grasp.

"No, I didn't say that," she says a bit tersely and pulls her hands back, palms outwards like in a surrender. "I'm just saying that . . . The House I know wouldn't have ever brought in a young girl he didn't know. And he's taking care of you."

The elevator door dings open and I step inside. She follows and I clench my jaw. "I'm not running away," I whisper harshly as I press the ground floor. "I haven't talked to my best friend since before my mom died. I think she deserves to know what's going on in my life."

I felt her hand on my shoulder and she smiled at me. "I can drive you there. But you know I'm going to tell House where I took you, right?" I purse my lips. That means that if I do decide to screw this whole living with my biological father thing, then I can't just disappear. He'll know where I am. "Look . . . I understand that this must be difficult for you, but . . . Things look tough now. Where do you have to go if you just leave without giving this a chance?"

"Eve and Mike's," I answer habitually.

"People your age. Jaid, did you once consider that they may not be able to afford a third person who doesn't have a job and isn't going to college? They're probably no more financially sound than you are. It would be selfish of you to force that on them when someone is willingly offering you a place to--"

"He's not willingly doing anything! He has to! My mom put him as the emergency contact when my grandparents died and--"

"I know House a lot more than you do," she interrupts a hit harshly. "Trust me, he doesn't do anything against his will. You're an adult, Jaid. He very easily could've left you to your own devices. He didn't."

I don't' understand why they think that's some sort of big deal--House taking me in. I'm his daughter--of course he'd feel obligated. Btu the way they talk about it, it's like human beings actually helping another out is unheard of. I nod as the elevator car comes to a halt.

"Okay," I whisper. "But . . . I think I just need to take a break for minute."

She smiles. "Okay. I'll drive you there."

"What's your name, by the way?" I asked as she brushes her brunette hair out of her luminescent eyes. She's really pretty.

"Remy, but just call me Thirteen. It's . . . simpler."

I don't understand how a number is simpler but then again, my own dad wants me to call him by his last name, so . . .

Eve is eighteen, like me, but almost my exact opposite. Whereas I mouth off and often speak without thinking, she's generally quiet and reserved and never does anything wrong. She has long black hair and dark eyes and pale skin. She's a bit curvier than I am, too, which isn't hard since I'm very thin and petite.

Her brother Mike is four years older than she is and although he's kind of reclusive and doesn't talk much, he's blunt and a lot of people don't' like him ,but I guess he's all right. He kinda looks like Eve, but a boy, obviously.

Eve and Mike live together in a very small apartment. The bathroom is small, like a closet, and it only has a shower, and it only has one room. The sleep on opposite sides with a little divider down the middle and they just have mattresses on the floor and share a closet.. The living room and kitchen are separated only by a counter, and I can hear the dull tones of other people's conversation. They live on the very bottom, so I can hear every body walking above us, too.

The trailer I lived in with my mom is bigger and better than this place. And leaving House's loft and going into this? Yeesh. I see Remy's--uh, well, Thirteen's point.

She sitting on their one couch and I'm sitting in between her knees. She combs my hair. "You have such beautiful hair," she says and I sigh.

"Guess I got that from mom."

"Your dad has bad hair?" she genuinely asks, pulling a comb through my strands.

"Well he's kinda bald. Like he shaved it awhile ago. It's like brown, but it has a lot of grey in it. But not like . . . Steve Martin grey or anything." She hums and slowly slides the com through my hair and it tugs gently on my scalp. Not in a bad way. "I have his eyes, though. And his figure."

She hums and then all is quiet as she brushes my hair. Mike walks in and sees us, then sits on the opposite end of the couch and plugs in his laptop. He's watching us intently, black eyes unmoving, and he slowly types although he never looks at the screen. Just at us.

"What are you up to, Mike?" I ask.

"You mother died and this I the first we've heard about it?" He doesn't sound happy. My cheeks burn and I clench my teeth. I do not have the patience to deal with this today.

"Mike, she's going through a hard time right now. We can't be selfish."

"No, but I would've liked to have paid my respects to the funeral. I might be an Atheist but I'm not a soulless creep."

Mike and I get along pretty well, but we clash on a few things. Like religion. But that's beside the point. "I'm sorry but I was a little freaked out, okay? My mom died and I've been shipped off to my dad who've I've never met. Excuse me if I wasn't thinking straight for a moment. God."

He blinks and he opens his mouth, the nods, and turns back to his laptop and starts typing.

"Don't mind him. He's just on his period," Even whispers and I snort back a chuckle. "I'd like to meet your father, though."

I grimace. "Probably not best, Eve. He's . . . weird. And he's living with this guy and they're just kinda-well. Everything's kinda weird right now. Maybe some other time."

She hums again and continues brushing my hair, and Mike snickers at something he read and I peer over at him. He glances at me and sighs. "Some girl I talk to online," he explains, then turns back to the screen and types furiously.

We sit in silence, the TV on a low volume, while Eve continues to come my hair. After awhile she put the brush on the floor beside me and I stare at the television and think of how often I've spent my time here, listening to Mike clack away on his laptop and talking with Eve.

"So he lives with another guy?" Mike asks. "How old are they?"

"Well House is fifty and James I . . . I dunno. Younger than that. Over thirty-five, I imagine."

"They're both doctors?" He asks, then smiles at the screen.

"Yeah. I thought they were gay but thank God that they weren't. I dunno if I could live with two gay guys," I say.

Have you ever had that moment where you realize the second after you say something you shouldn't have said it? Yeah. This is what I'm going through now.

Eve gets off the couch and heads towards her room, slamming it shut. Mike glares at me. "Why's that? Because your precious Bible--"

"Don't start on me, Mike."

"Give me one good reason, without using the Bible, why you have any excuse to disallow homosexuals happiness? Or judge two men who willingly take you into their home because they might like the same gender?"

"The Bible trumps everything, Mike."

"You know, I think it's time you go home to your two daddies."

"They're not gay, Mike. And . . . I have no way of getting there. I don't even know where 'there' is."

He purses his lisp and closes his eyes, types something quickly, then looks at me. "You were seriously going to leave them, despite everything they just did for a total stranger, because you thought they might be gay?"

I shift uncomfortably. Well, when he puts it like that . . .

"I don't know, Mike," I mutter. "I don't know."