Rachel leaned closer to her father. The beeping on the monitor filled her ears. She was silent as the grave. His steady breathing was the only thing that gave her comfort. But the bandage stuck to his collarbone did not. She hadn't washed in days; she had sat by his bed day in and day out wishing he would come in consciousness. Not knowing if he would. Her hair was scraped up into an untidy ponytail that sat ungracefully at the top of her head. She pushed a stray strand behind her ear, stroking her father's hair as he slept.

"Daddy," She whispered. "Please don't die. I need you. It's… It's not fair. The day I get you back is the day, well, it was supposed to be a happy day, not one of…" She paused biting her lip, "Simon was arrested and prosecuted. He's been tossed into jail. Six years for fraud and for firing using a guard's gun. He's still denying that the charges he made were false. Stacy's got people doing complete background checks on him. Dr. Stone is doing an entire psychological analysis while he's stuck in the jail cell. It'll probably end up that he had acute mental delusions due to trauma and something blah, blah, blah."

She touched his rough chin. "You won't remember the second bullet. It grazed your shoulder, missing your neck, but they had to give you surgery to get the bullet fragments outta your collarbone. You lost a lot of blood. Three transfusions. It's a good thing you had four doctors were there… You were in the operating room for a good two to three hours, I forget. I was too worried about you to be looking at the time..." She smiled softly, glancing up at the clock.

"People say that speaking to you helps. That it eases the pain of someone passing or something. The truth is, I'm doing this because I think that the sound of my voice will bring you back. Otherwise, Simon would have won. I want that as much as you do. I can't loose both my parents… I love you, and if you can't pull through this… I don't know what I'll do."

She felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up. It was Stacy. She sighed and kissed her father's forehead. His heartbeat quickened. Rachel frowned. Stacy looked at her. "That can't be good," She said. Stacy moved into the corridor calling for Wilson.

Rachel stared at her dad. Nurses began to rush about him, checking his sats etc. Wilson looked up. "Stacy will you get her outta here!" He barked.

Stacy obliged and pulled Rachel away. "No!" She shouted. "I wanna be with my dad!"

"Rachel, no," Stacy said firmly. "Let the doctors do the doctoring, we can do the visitor panic outside,"

"I have been dragged away from him for too long," Rachel snapped.

"No, you've got to come," Stacy said. Rachel looked at her father, knowing that he wouldn't want her to see him like this.

"I can't leave him," Rachel argued.

"Paddles," Wilson shouted. "Rachel get out!"

Stacy pulled the thirteen year old out by her elbows. She never once took her eyes off the fragile form of her dad.

Rachel was pacing. Her coffee was untouched on the table and was growing cold. In her fingers she twisted her tiny locket. Stacy was sitting sleepily on the red chair, her eyes half open and an empty cup of coffee still in her hand.

"Rachel please, sit down," Stacy murmured. "You're making my head spin."

Rachel turned to the lawyer. "How can you remain calm at a time like this? If dad dies, then I'll be left in the care of my only living relative and that's Simon or even worse, Simon's parents because he's locked up somewhere,"

"No," Stacy replied, still sleepy. "You won't,"

"How do you know?" She asked.

"Because," Stacy replied, rubbing her eyes, smudging her eyeliner a little. "House signed a legal paper before he went to court. Declaring that if he should die guardianship would be placed upon either Godfather James Wilson or Godmother Stacy Warner."

"Are you willing to take care of me?" Rachel asked.

Stacy shrugged. "Mark always wanted kids, and I'm too old to have any of my own,"

"And Wilson?"

"Would happily make you a member of his family," Stacy replied. "You have nothing to worry about."

Rachel fell silent. Her father had thought of everything. He went out of his way to make sure that if anything had happened to him, she would be safe, loved, cared for, taken care of… Whatever people might think about House, they were wrong. He would do anything for those he cared about, even if he only cared about a few. Rachel picked up her coffee and took the lid off. She took a tiny sip and shuddered. It was ice cold and now flavourless. She shoved it carelessly into a bin.

There was a familiar footfall that alerted Stacy and Rachel. They looked around to see Wilson and Foreman join them. They're faces looked… well…

…..

Rachel straightened her skirt. On her lap sat white roses. Wilson led her out of the car. He took her hand and led her through the graves. The grass was coated with a thick layer of frost that crunched under their treading. Rachel's sneakers barely made a noise though. Wilson's patent leather though… Well it was enough to waken the dead. They stopped at a grave.

"Do you really want to do this on your birthday?" He asked.

"You've already asked me this," She replied. "I'm as sure about this as I'll ever be,"

Wilson shrugged. "Alright then,"

She sighed, her frame shaking, not because of the cold, though she pulled her jacket closer. She pulled out a tiny envelope from her jacket pocket. She opened it slowly, hands nervous.

"I know that you're long gone, that you'll never come back." She read. "I know that I should move on, but… Knowing you were beside me through the tears, the tantrums. You never left my side; through the good times and the bad. You will miss so much. My first kiss. My first break-up. The first time I stayed up to three in the morning eating cookie-dough ice-cream watching stupid movies. I can only say that I love you. And I will never stop loving you. And I hope… I pray, perhaps that's a better word in this concept although you never really did believe in that sorta stuff, that you will keep looking out for me, no matter how many times I screw up. I love you,"

Rachel slipped the letter back into the envelope and kissed it. "And I hope you realize just how much," She placed the envelope onto the gravestone. Behind her she could hear the squeaking of wheels.

She looked around and saw her father being pushed by Stacy on his wheelchair. His cane hung on the back, in case he wanted to walk. Rachel took his hand as she placed the white roses along with the letter.

"She'll like them," House said. "White roses were your mother's favourite."

"Are you sure?" Rachel asked.

"Positive," House grinned. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, hating the fact that he was going to be stuck in it for a few weeks. As he shifted, he winced.

"Believing in the afterlife House?" Wilson asked.

House turned his head, looking at his friend. "God no," He pulled out a bottle of vicodin and tipped a tiny white pill into his mouth, swallowing it dry. He looked at the bottle. "It feels so good to hold you again, my dear, dear compadre!"

Rachel laughed. She kissed her dad's cheek. "I bloody missed you," She said, her green eyes twinkling as she smiled.

House grinned. "Of course you did! Who wouldn't?" He sighed. "Can I have a moment."

Rachel nodded. She, Stacy and Wilson stood aside. House rolled up to Lisa's grave and stroked the stone thoughtfully.

"I miss you, Lisa," He said. "I wish you could see how much we've both grown, and both changed. I wish you were here with me. I wish we had more time. But, wishing does little to help and this feels really stupid talking to a grave stone as if you were actually here. Because you're not. Not any more. And it's stupid for an atheist to be doing this. But I guess, it'll relive a lot of built up tension. I miss you, Lisa. And… I love you," He looked up. "Rache?" He called.

Rachel smiled and walked over to him. She kissed him on the cheek. "Talking to mom?" She asked. House nodded. "Mm… That's something I would never have expected," She smiled sweetly and took control of the wheelchair.

"Why don't we go home?" House asked. "You can make me a nice meal." Rachel laughed. "So," House said. "How's Matt?"

"How'd you find out about Matt?" She asked.

~ Fin

And "DAD" is finished. Its spin off "MOM" has already been started. I will be refining "DAD" so I want lots of comments about what I could improve, (don't bash my grammar; that's always been crap and it's not gonna improve soon)Tell me what you liked, what you hated, what kept you on the edge of your seat/bed/cage, whatever you tend to sit on – personally I like sitting on my bottom but maybe I'm just weird – what made you laugh, cry and shout mentally at me cursing me for my existence.

I wanna thank all you guys for sticking with me, even through the terrible chapters where I honestly thought I was going to hang myself – I honestly though they were rubbish. You guys were so loyal and I should have taken more time to thank you for your supportive and encouraging comments (Apart from "I Heart U all", seriously, do you think death threats are a way to get my attention? I don't care if you really love me! You are so not getting a Christmas present this year).

So you know, apart from "MOM" I will be creating other spin offs, including one about Cameron/Stephen the schizophrenic, one about Thirteen/Foreman, her dying and Foreman's grief. I will also be writing one about Lucas. Yay! (That is if I ever get the bloody time!)

Please, please, please comment and what not. ;) love you guys so much! Xxxxxx