Chapter 3

They should have known, really. Anything that starts with blood isn't usually destined to go easily.

House and Cuddy were finally relaxing after helping Rachel through a five-day stomach flu that took them to the hospital to get her IV fluids for dehydration. (The one advantage was that it gave them time to hammer away at the discussion of names. House was extra helpful with suggestions of "Lisa junior" and "Leg," - "It's short for 'Legory,'" he'd explained defensively. – but they had finally settled on Robyn and were both pleased with it.) This was the first night that week when Rachel got to sleep at a normal time and their evening was progressing normally, despite being within a week of the due date. So since everything was calming down, naturally, Cuddy had to drop onto the couch next to House and feel a scary gush. Her mind reeled and at first she just thought her water had broken. But when she stood, there was bright red blood.

"House," she gasped. He looked over absent-mindedly, then his eyes widened.

"Sit back down," he ordered. He grabbed his phone to call the hospital and tell them they were heading in while he handed Cuddy hers and told her to call Julia. The fifteen minutes it took Julia to get there seemed to take forever, despite their fear dissipating as the bleeding had seemed to slow. House helped her to the car and they sped to PPTH, calming each other with rationalizations about what could have caused the blood and reassurances that Robyn was moving. Light contractions had started, and the timing was right, so things still seemed like they might go fine.

In the hospital room, Dr. Anderson examined Cuddy and said he couldn't determine exactly where the bleeding was coming from, but that the baby's heart rate seemed fine and the bleeding was slow. They laid large pads under her and advised her not to move more than was necessary.

So they waited. Contractions came and went and Cuddy was tough as nails in her elegant way. House would watch her close her eyes and breathe through pain that he could visibly see as her stomach tensed into a hard ball. He felt helpless even after the hippie classes and countless articles Cuddy had forced him to endure. He'd stroke her hair, hold her hand, rub her shoulders, but there was nothing he could really do.

After twenty hours, Dr. Anderson suggested an epidural. Cuddy didn't want to do it; she'd read they could slow down labor. "I know, but this is your first birth, Lisa. Often you're nervous even if you don't realize it. The epidural might help you relax. Move things along." She eventually agreed and House jokingly asked if they could bring two.

Once she was numb, the whole thing became much more of a Waiting for Godot kind of thing - lots of tired conversation while they sat around killing time between doctor checks. House watched both of their heart rates and monitored the blood loss each time someone came to check. They had hypothesized by then that the placenta was slowly separating from Cuddy. Anderson was right – There wasn't a lot of blood, but it was constant. House wasn't exactly calm.

Cuddy really didn't want a C-section, but she knew with her age, the odds were stacked against her. She'd read dozens of articles from different perspectives about the birthing process, and was trying to stay optimistic. Dr. Anderson was great and knew her preferences, so they took it one hour at a time. Her water had broken, though, and they were getting concerned about possible infection and didn't want to wait much longer. Eventually she was dilated to nine centimeters and felt like she could start pushing, despite the last centimeter. The nurses came in and Dr. Anderson tried to help the baby clear. House would watch the monitor and tell Cuddy when he saw a contraction appear on the screen. The he watched as Cuddy set her jaw, clenched her eyes shut, and filled her chest with air. He helped to hold back his assigned leg, the endless rotation of nurses across the bed in charge of the other. He watched her exert herself in a way he couldn't even imagine because he didn't have the parts to imagine exerting. They tried this for several rounds, but that Robyn was not budging. Talk of a C-section grew more serious and Dr. Anderson suggested moving labor into the OR, just so they could be efficient if it came to that. It was still calm, casual.

But suddenly Cuddy felt an intense pain, even through the epidural. The nurse suggested she roll to one side and Cuddy tried, but even rolling that bit was excruciating. Dr. Anderson was paged and came in to look at the monitors. Before House or Cuddy could even get a look at anything, they were wheeling Cuddy out of the room and gathering a string of people behind them. The doctor was shouting for people to get out of the hallway as they made their way to an OR. It all happened so fast, Cuddy didn't even have time to get worked up as she talked to the doctor, asking questions rather casually. House, however, limped behind them as fast as he could and heard enough to know she was getting surgery as fast as possible. He grabbed his phone and even though he had no idea what time it even was he called Chase. "Get your ass into the OR suite and scrub in," he barked.

Chase showed up with the whole team, who had insisted on coming too. "House, this isn't your show!" Anderson had barked up at the observation window when he saw them scrubbing in.

"The hell it isn't," House answered. "They're just here to watch, unless you guys screw something up." He looked over at Cuddy and she was already out, the anesthesia mask over her mouth. "What the hell? Why is she under general?"

"There's no time, House." And suddenly he realized it wasn't Cuddy they were most worried about. And suddenly he felt sick.

He watched them, in the blink of an eye, slicing into Cuddy's belly. And his brain fried as he watched a tiny, listless body ushered over to another table and being surrounded by a whole pediatric team, while he simultaneously watch blood coming out of Cuddy as they removed tissue from the hole in her body. House was physically motionless, but internally whirling. He watched them suctioning Cuddy and doing a zillion things to Robyn. He met Chase's eyes through the glass and motioned for him to get in there. Chase got closer to Cuddy and nodded up at House that they weren't doing anything he wouldn't be doing. Thirteen was already trying to squeeze into the peds unit of thirty crammed into a sixteen square foot area. There was yelling and handing off of instruments and cries for more space. And there was a ridiculous amount of blood. And all House could do was whisper "Cry, dammit," at the window.

Then Cuddy flatlined.

House would never remember catapulting down the stairs and into the OR, just as Chase would never remember somehow elbowing his way in with paddles. The whole thing would be a fifteen-second lapse in memory, but seem like a key piece of life that was inaccessible to them. But there House was yelling at colleagues to suction, and hang blood, taking paddles from Chase so he could move to cleaning and suturing as if they had rehearsed this crazy dance.

"Don't you dare do this, Cuddy," he hissed at her as he shocked her for the second time. "Thirteen, why is she not crying?" he yelled.

"The placenta came off," Anderson was explaining to no one in particular. "She was without oxygen…"

"We're clearing her throat and lungs, House. It's not over!" Thirteen yelled back, focusing on the practicalities.

Third shock and he had a rhythm. And then the most perfect round scream emerged from the other corner of the room. And House almost passed out. He reeled back, bent at the waist and had his head between his knees. Taub shoved a stool over to him and he sat, peppering the anesthesiologist and Chase with questions, then spinning on the stool to shout at the pediatricians.

"She's fine, House," Anderson assured him from Cuddy's bed. "We got it. She's getting blood. She's stable."

His breath was heaving and he watched Cuddy's chest rising and falling and tried to grab hold of reality again. And then a beaming Thirteen walked over to him with reality wrapped in a pink and blue blanket, placing her in his arms. She looked up at him with crossed eyes and a tiny bow of a pink mouth. Taub clapped him on the back. She made an instinctive sucking motion with her mouth. "You," House said to her.

"Dumbass," Foreman teased him. "You're trying to wing it. You should have had a deflecting joke already prepared for this moment." House said nothing.

"I've got one," Chase called over. "I want a raise, House," he teased still sewing Cuddy shut.

But he wasn't listening. He wasn't even there. He was falling in love.

[H] [H] [H]

House saw Cuddy's lids begin to flutter open. He was standing bedside in recovery, alternating between watching her and watching Robyn as the nurses measured, cleaned, and generally poked around on her. He'd have to get used to this split-attention feeling, he supposed.

"Hey," he said quietly. Cuddy was confused, weak, groggy. When he saw her eyes finally hold his gaze and focus, he knew she was coming out of it.

Cuddy tried to say "hey" back, but her throat was dry and it came out as a croak. House reached for water for her, and when he turned back she looked panic-stricken. She was combing the room with her eyes, still so confused. Her mind was moving so slowly.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Everything's okay," he told her, handing her a cup of water. "She's right here, with the nurses." He saw her eyes well up and he wanted to protect her from the million horrible thoughts that tumbled through her mind before she let them go. But he knew she had to feel them, even briefly, to appreciate the greatness of right now.

House ran a hand over her forehead, smoothing a curl out of her face, and the nurse brought Robyn to Cuddy, who took her both greedily and clumsily due to her half-sedated state. The infant nestled in, knowing her mother immediately, and began rooting for Cuddy's breast. House watched Cuddy just know what to do. She always just knew what to do. And soon Robyn was nursing and Cuddy was sitting up straighter and it was like she had always been the mother of a 40-minute old baby.

She looked up at House and beamed.

"I have a new scariest moment of my life," he teased. Cuddy's hand went to the burns on her chest left by the paddles. Her wide smile faded a little and she gave him a sympathetic, pouty grin.

"Thank you," she told him.

House made a face like that was a ridiculous thing to say. "For what?"

"I'm guessing you made a spectacle of yourself and saved my life."

"Oh, yeah, that. You're welcome. Chase and the twenty other doctors were pretty impressed too." He winked at her. Then he clenched his teeth a little, fighting any loss of composure. "You were right. I felt something." He reached out and gently grasped Robyn's bare foot, which had wormed out of her swaddle. Cuddy found his hand there and closed around it. "It's crazy. She's one of a billion, but she's amazing."

"Like you," Cuddy told him.

They stared at each other for a few minutes, until Dr. Anderson came in to check on her. Cuddy thanked him and updated him on how she was feeling. He updated her on what had happened. It was typical hospital small talk. House watched Cuddy speak, scratch her eyebrow, smile, furrow her brow… He watched it all like it was the first time he was seeing her.

When the doctor left, Cuddy turned to House. "I should call my mom, Julia…" she told him. He found her phone for her and told her that they already knew she was okay, but would want to talk to her.

Cuddy dialed and was waiting for the connection when House laid his hand on her thigh. "Thank you," he told her.

"For what?" she asked, smiling.

"For doing this with me."

A tear rolled down Cuddy's cheek. "Oh, yeah, that." She beamed at him again. "You're welcome."

[H] [H] [H]

House and Cuddy enjoyed several weeks of being home and revolving their lives around the kids. They were tired and crabby and a little bored, of course, but for the most part it was a pleasant tedium of naps, meals, and hanging out. But work was calling and as they interviewed nanny after nanny with disapproval, Cuddy started getting worried about the approaching return to work. She'd already been doing more and more from home, but she had to physically go in soon, as did House, and they weren't happy with the childcare options. Well, actually, House wasn't happy. He was being picky as hell, finding something wrong with each applicant. She sounded too bossy, too confident, too wimpy, too insecure. She smelled funny or wore impractical shoes.

This resulted in Robyn being toted to PPTH for a few days. Cuddy was adamant that since House was being the roadblock, this was his problem. She was not going to risk her professional image by turning the Dean of Medicine's office into a nursery. So when the team walked in one day they found a Pack 'n' Play set up, along with several bins of random squishy rattle toys, and a bottle-making/cleaning station at the coffee counter. They exchanged glances and discussed in hushed voices what was going on, when House walked in with a sleeping infant strapped to his chest. He tossed files at them and characteristically ignored the elephant in the room, though this was the first they'd seen of Robyn, save Chase who'd had the balls to actually stop by and visit.

"Four fainting spells in as many days, skin discoloration around the joints, hair loss, and migraine headaches. Go." He was scrawling on the white board as he spoke. The team stared at him in silence, so House gave an exasperated groan. "Yes, I know it can be threatening to be in the presence of a human being who has infinitely more potential than any of you, what with the joining of Cuddy's and my unbelievably brilliant and attractive genes, but just try." He gestured down at Robyn with a nod of his head. "She can't talk yet so she's useless to me."

They began tossing out ideas and tearing them down for different reasons before coming to consensus on the most logical thread to pursue. They rose to go start their poking and prodding. "So what's with the Mr. Mom thing?" Foreman asked, gesturing at the baby paraphernalia.

"It's temporary," House said, getting a cup of coffee. "Having trouble settling on a nanny," he told them. "I mean I want her hot enough that Cuddy might actually be into her, but not so hot that she's clearly a stripper by night."

"Cuddy's down with the threesome thing this soon after childbirth, eh? Cool." Thirteen teased, raising an eyebrow flirtatiously.

House furrowed his brow at her, suspicious. "Don't get your hopes up, my little equal-opportunity ho. I just get to watch while folding tiny clothes."

Thirteen couldn't resist and came over to peek into the carrier at the sleeping baby. "Surprisingly, it suits you, House. You look good, Daddy-o."

House gave her a smirk."Cute, but we're going with 'Godfather.' Feel free to use it too."

They left the room, but each snuck a peek as they shuffled by the glass walls to the elevator. None of them spoke of the way House kissed the top of her head briefly as he walked back into his office, rereading the file.

[H] [H] [H]

House came home late due to a complicated case and Cuddy practically thrust Robyn into his arms, whipped after an evening alone with the kids. He held her and Cuddy started picking up the disaster of the living room, but eventually surrendered to squalor and flopped onto the couch. House had gone into the kitchen to get a bottle and now sat on the chair giving it to Robyn.

"I have a couple questions for you," he said.

"Do they require using my brain?" Cuddy groaned.

"I could mix in a couple softballs if that helps," he said.

"Let 'er rip," she said, throwing an arm across her eyes.

House swallowed and looked down at Robyn for a second. "I think I should adopt Rachel," he told her. Cuddy lay motionless for a moment, digesting this bombshell. Then she lifted her arm and turned to look at him.

"You do?"

House tried to look nonchalant about the whole thing. "Nothing will change," he explained. "It will just officialize it all. But when she's older… You know she's already gonna work through the shit that comes with being adopted and having a sibling that isn't. I thought, you know, I should provide some counter-evidence to her inevitable teenage angst." Cuddy nodded, still thinking. "That, and I love her," he added. Cuddy sat up, leaning forward on her knees.

"Okay," she said, matter-of-factly. House nodded. They sat in silence for a few minutes, both deep in thought. He moved Robyn to his shoulder to burp her, then inhaled to ask his next question, but Cuddy interrupted him abruptly with a rushed "Doyouwannagetmarried?"

House smirked at her outburst. He reached in his pocket and tossed something at her. She caught the black velvet box in her lap. "Why you gotta steal my thunder, Cuddy?" he asked.

Cuddy looked at him, shocked. Then she opened the box to find a beautiful-bordering-on-ostentatious engagement ring inside. "Seriously?" she asked him.

"Nah. I figured after a late night with two small children you'd love good prank." He winked at her.

"I can't decide if this proposal is lame or awesome," she said, slipping the ring on her finger.

"Story of our story," he replied.

She held her hand out flamboyantly. "Looks good with a spit-up covered bathrobe and unwashed hair, eh?"

"You're beautiful."

She beamed at him. "What's with all the officializing?" she teased.

"Just wanna make an honest woman of you," he joked. Then he shrugged. "I dunno. It's not just about us anymore. I don't want the kids confused, or teased, or… You know, nothing will change, but it will all be more legit in the eyes of others." Cuddy nodded, smiling at his uncharacteristic nod to conformity. He met her eyes. "That, and I love you." They looked at each other happily for a few minutes, then Robyn released an audible dump.

"I timed it that way. Breaks all the romantic tension," he told Cuddy. He stood and leaned down to kiss her before taking Robyn to her room to change the sleepy newborn's diaper and put her to bed. Cuddy lay back on the couch and admired her left hand in the dim light, moving it this way and that. She heard House on the baby monitor, talking to Robyn about how bad she smelled and how he was gonna clean her up. Then she heard him singing softly. She grabbed the monitor and turned on the screen to spy. She saw House standing there, swaying awkwardly with no cane. Robyn's head lay on his shoulder and his large hand covered her entire back. His lips were against the back of her head, his eyes were wide, thoughtful, staring into space. Robyn yawned and squeaked a little and Cuddy saw House smile. And that's when she knew… He loved her just as crazily.

[H] [H] [H]

Eighteen years passed in a stream of mundane, happy daily life dotted with dramas big and small. House sat in a cushioned folding auditorium seat between Cuddy and Rachel. He watched a beautiful and poised young woman, one of the women he'd die for, walk to a podium to give a valedictorian speech to her high school graduating class. He hated these kinds of events. He hated the ceremony. He hated the speeches. But he adored her, so it was tolerable.

"These speeches are supposed to offer some kind of words of wisdom," Robyn began, a sarcastic edge to her delivery. "Some set of pithy statements we can write in yearbooks or inspirational post-its we stick to our mirrors. At least for girls. I don't know what guys do with these kinds of things." The audience laughed a little and House smiled. "When I sat to write this though, I thought, 'I'm eighteen years old and am graduating high school. Big deal,'" she said, carrying on with her jaded tenor. "But I thought about it more and I realized that what I know now, believe now, do now… It is significant in the sense that I'm not really going to change all that much. No one does." Cuddy stole a glance at House who was listening with rapt attention. "Our contexts change. High school becomes college becomes the career world. Being the child in a family becomes being a member of a family of friends becomes starting your own family. Birth becomes growth becomes aging becomes death. And through it all we are who we are." This was a pretty existential valedictorian speech and House looked around a little. People were not fidgeting or flipping through the program. They were listening to her… to an eighteen-year-old girl who was making them think. "And what matters, really, is going through with it all."

I know that, like every graduate here, I am who I am because of my parents. I have my father's rationality and my mother's intuition. My dad's skepticism and my mom's openness. His rebellious side and her social graces. But what they taught me most, together, through how they've lived their lives, is that this is what we've got. This is the life we have, made up of each day and the too few days after that. And that doesn't mean we can cherish every moment or live like we're dying or any of that crap. Can I say crap in this speech?" she asked, prompting more laughter.

"It means we need to persevere. Good or bad, we have to keep going. What we do - right or wrong, wise or foolish - becomes who we are, what our life is. It's all important because none of it is really all that important. It's just each of us, being eternally us in an ever-changing context. Everyone feels this pressure to change and be better than who we are. But I'd like to suggest that if we just accept who we are and persevere… Well, we get credit for that."

So I know I won't change and I'm not going to waste my time trying not to think like my dad or feel like my mom. And I know life will change and I'm not going to waste my time trying to hold onto things that are leaving or rushing to things that lay in the distance. I'm just going to try to persevere, loving and hating my life in different moments. And as condescending as it might be for a teenager to offer an auditorium of parents and grandparents advice, that's what they want me to do, so here it is. I suggest you all do the same. Let go, and just hold on."

There was a pause when she returned to her seat, as her message washed over the crowd. People came in expecting bullshit about chasing dreams and never forgetting friends, and instead got a considered philosophy on life. House noted that Robyn looked unconcerned with the result of her speech, sitting down on stage, proud and committed to all she'd said. Rachel's was the first clap to ring out, followed by a wave of applause. The people who rose first, to offer her a standing ovation, were not the teenagers. They probably had understood very little of the reality Robyn had described. The adults rose, some of them brushing tears from their eyes. The rough, tired, beaten-down masses rose and smiled at spouses and marveled at the unexpected acknowledgement of their daily effort to believe the good they had wouldn't escape them or that the good they wanted might be around the bend, if they just kept going.