Disclaimer: I don't own House M.D. nor the characters. I don't make any money from this.
Author's Note:
Here we are. Finally. The third part. I'm surprised how far this has gone. It's been fun and thank you, everyone, for all the interest. I hope you enjoy this sequel sequel because I've been having such a great time writing it.

"Greg?" Cuddy closed the front door behind her.

"In here," his deep voice called out from the living room.

Cuddy headed down the hallway. She turned into the living room and looked to the couch where House sat, eyes on the television across the room. He glanced at Cuddy and then turned off the television.

"Hey," Cuddy greeted.

"You're talking to me now?" House asked and set the remote control on the coffee table.

Cuddy gave a pathetic shrug. "Couldn't stay mad at you forever."

House gave her a knowing look. "You heard I went to see Dr. Lyons."

She moved further into the room and nodded. "Yes."

"So, you've forgiven me?" he asked.

"For stealing your patient from the hospital and nearly shoving him off a bridge?" Cuddy raised her eyebrows. "No. That was unprofessional and stupid of you. What did Dr. Lyons say?"

"Oh, I see." House looked back at the television, wishing he had left it on, but he didn't have the energy to reach for the remote and actually do so. "You just want the information so after I give in, you'll stop talking to me again."

"That depends on what you have to say," Cuddy told him.

"Cuddy." He brought his eyes back to her. "Stop this."

She stood for a moment, staring at him, and then softened. "The lawsuit is huge. Not only for taking him out of the hospital, but for emotional distress-"

"I saved his life," House cut her off, sighing.

"That's arguable." Cuddy placed her hands on her hips.

"I cured him because I exposed him to that fear," House emphasized. "It got his heart going, adrenaline-"

"Okay." Cuddy gave a wave of her hand and sat down next to him. "We're not debating this here. Work stays at work."

"Then, you should talk to me at home," House said.

Cuddy's eyebrows drew together. "I do-"

"Yeah, you do," House quickly agreed. "Coldly. Be Lisa here, not Cuddy."

She took that in. "I'm sorry. Sometimes, I get so... I just... sometimes it's hard."

"You can't control me everywhere," he reminded her, completely serious.

"I know." She paused. "What did Dr. Lyons say?"

House directed his gaze elsewhere. The sound of the front door opening kept him from looking back at Cuddy and answering her question. Cuddy turned toward the doorway.

"Come in here, please," she called out.

Sarah, backpack on and guitar case strap hung over her, stood in the doorway. "Yeah, Mom?"

"Did you tell Mrs. Harding thank you for me?" Cuddy asked her and Sarah nodded. Cuddy went on, "Thank you. And Bubba called. Please call her back tomorrow."

"'Kay," Sarah replied. She stepped into the room and looked to House. "Speaking of grandmother's, Dad, when are we going to visit Grandma again?"

"I don't know, Mick," House said.

"I have a final project for my English class," Sarah told him. "To interview someone. I'd like to do an interview with Grandma. Sometimes she thinks she's in 1968."

Cuddy frowned. "Sarah, I don't think it's very appropriate to-"

"No, Mom, the assignment is really cool," Sarah interrupted excitedly. "We're suppose to interview someone, or a couple people, and then write a paper discussing some sort of topic or issue that includes the interview. I thought it would be great to do it on Alzheimer's. And Grandma would let me, wouldn't she, Dad?" Sarah directed her eyes back to her father. "What you've said about her... before she was sick... that she would."

"Yes." House nodded. "She would. Your grandma always cared about others. Put their interests before her own. She would have done anything for you."

"Yeah," Sarah agreed, almost sadly.

"When is the project due?" Cuddy asked.

"End of the semester." Sarah shrugged. "So, like, a month."

"Sounds doable to me," House replied.

Cuddy looked to him, eyeing him up. "Are you sure?"

House's eyebrows drew together. "Why not?"

Cuddy gave him a look. "Greg..."

"What?" Sarah asked, knowing she was being excluded and not liking it.

Cuddy turned back to her daughter. "It's a long drive."

"We can take a weekend trip," Sarah suggested.

"We really should move your mother closer to us," Cuddy said to House.

House shook his head just enough that Cuddy caught it, indicating that he didn't want to talk about it now, especially in front of his daughter.

"So, can we go?" Sarah raised hopeful eyebrows. "Soon?"

Cuddy shook her head. "I don't think-"

"Of course we can go," House cut her off. "We'll just have to pick a good day or weekend to go."

Sarah shrugged. "Okay."

"How was band practice?" Cuddy asked.

"Fine," Sarah answered and headed for the door.

"We're going to eat dinner soon," Cuddy told her.

"'Kay," Sarah called over her shoulder and went to her bedroom.

Cuddy turned to House, going back to their previous conversation. "So, what'd he say?"

"Later." House picked up his cane and stood from the couch.

"Greg, please," Cuddy asked of him.


House leaned down toward her and pressed his lips against her forehead. She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of him, a mixture of cologne and Irish Spring soap. He pulled away from her as quickly as he had come close and left the room.

Cuddy drew in a breath and opened her eyes. She caught sight of his backside in the doorway and stood to her feet. The news wasn't good and she knew it. But, she would let it wait until later, until he wanted to talk. She pursed her lips together and made her way to the kitchen.

"Easy, Mick." House stared across the table at his teenage daughter. "We're not going to yank your plate away."

"Greg." Cuddy gave him a look.

"Sorry." Sarah swallowed hard. "I have a lot of homework and I want to practice."

"What song are you working on?" House asked, interested.

"Oh, a bunch." Sarah took a long drink from her glass of water. "I volunteered to play in the Pediatrics wing. Gotta play kid stuff."

"Nah." House shook his head. "Play some hardcore rock."

"Yeah, Mom would like that," Sarah smiled and glanced at her mother.

"I'd love anything you'd play," Cuddy told her.

"Oh, Jeez, Mom." Sarah rolled her eyes and dug her fork into her carrots.

"However, I don't think hard rock is suitable for children," Cuddy added in.

"Why not?" House asked, setting his fork down next to his half eaten plate. "Play something from that heavy metal group out these days. What is it called? Roger something."

"Roger Roger," Sarah corrected and shoveled more food into her mouth.

"Right," House agreed.

"No." Cuddy shook her head. "I don't even want any of that in this house."

Sarah swallowed. "Don't worry. I have better taste than Roger Roger."

"Like the Whoever Boys?" House raised his eyebrows at his daughter. "Although, they're not really boys."

"No." Sarah smirked. "Not really."

House frowned. "No sex."

"Dad!" Sarah exclaimed.

"I don't want any Whoever babies running around," House said.

Sarah made a face. "Like I would ever get to meet the Whoever Boys."

"You never know," House replied. "And if you do, no sex."

"Dad, seriously!" Sarah looked to her mother. "Mom, tell him to stop."

"Greg," Cuddy gave him a warning.

"What?" House frowned at Cuddy. "You want her to pop out kids?"

"I have trust in our daughter and her decisions," Cuddy told him.

"So do I," House agreed. "It's her raging hormones I don't trust."

"Oh, please." Sarah rolled her eyes as she stood from the table, taking her plate with her.

"Those hormones can mess you up," House called after her. "Get you pregnant."

Sarah smiled as she set her plate in the sink. She walked back into the living room and wrapped her arms around House.

"Don't worry, Dad." She gave him a tight squeeze. "I won't have sex until I'm married."

With that, Sarah pulled away from her father and left the room. House watched her go, eyebrows drawn and frowning.

"Yeah right!" he said before hearing her bedroom door close. House looked to Cuddy. "She's your daughter. Better get her on a tighter leash."

"Tighter leash." Cuddy rolled her eyes and picked up her glass. "Right."

"When did you lose your virginity?" House asked and Cuddy nearly choked on her water.

"What?" Cuddy got out before succumbing to a coughing fit.

"You heard me," House told her. "I'm curious. Maybe's it's hereditary. And since you flaunted everything you had-"

"Shut up," Cuddy cut him off, a frown on her face. "Not that it's any of your business, but I was..." Cuddy stopped. She wasn't sure why confiding this felt so unusual and made her uneasy.

"Come on." House smirked. "How old were you?"

Cuddy took in a breath. "Seventeen."

"Wow." House's eyes widened in exaggerated surprise.

"In my defense, I didn't have sex again for a long time after that," Cuddy attempted to defend herself.

"Like, what?" House raised an eyebrow. "Three days?"

Cuddy made eye contact. "Try three years."

House held her gaze for a moment and then lowered his eyes. He brightened slightly and looked back up at her. "Let's just hope it's not hereditary then."

Cuddy shot him a harsh look. "When I was seventeen, I was..."

"In love?" House asked cynically.

"No," Cuddy shook her head slightly. "Curious. I wasn't a wild child. I just... liked to know things, I guess. Like you, in a way. I want answers. I like answers."

"And did you get any?" House asked.

"No." Cuddy paused a moment. "When did you lose yours?"

House shook his head as he stood from the table. "Oh, I don't kiss and tell. It's unladylike."

Cuddy glared and House carried his unfinished plate to the kitchen with one hand, his cane in the other. Cuddy watched him, angry with him, but that faded as she realized he was wincing as he walked, his shoulders tight. She realized he was in pain. A pain he wasn't sharing with her.