Love is Blind

Based on the spoiler for House episode: Love is Blind. If you don't want to be spoiled, read no further. This is how I think it might go – probably won't so don't think I have any extra information on the episode. I've only seen the same spoilers y'all have.

"We're doing more," Blythe told her son. "We're getting married."

House stared at her Mother in shock. Not that it was any of his business who she married, she was a grown woman. She didn't need anyone's permission or blessing. But this was his biological father! Did she really think … No, he didn't know what he was supposed to think she should think. This really was none of his business. Except they were making it so.

"Fine, now I know," House said slowly. "I'll just toddle off then."

"Gregory," Blythe called his name with a mixture of pleading and admonishment.

"Yeah, sorry," House turned back. "Congratulations and all that. I'll have to go. Now that you're not dying I'm sure my team has a patient who is and who – therefore – needs me."

"Gregory!" Blythe's voice stopped him before he got the door open. "This is not a good time, but we do need to talk more. I don't just want to drop this on your lap and then leave it."

"I don't really see what there is to talk about," House sighed. "You don't need my permission. It's your life; you do what you think will make you happy. I'm not around often enough to be really affected."

"You are still my son," Blythe insisted.

"Fine, I suppose so," House rubbed his eyes. "Ok, we'll have dinner. Come to my place at seven o'clock. I'll tell the wife to cook up a feast."

"Thank you," Blythe smiled. "We'll be on time." Just as House walked into the corridor, the penny dropped and she ran to the door before House could close it: "Wife? What wife, Gregory!"

"My wife," House stated. "She's a great cook."

"How long have you been married?" Blythe cried after her son who was limping away – in her bathrobe she really couldn't follow.

"Coming two years now, I think," House threw at her over his shoulder. "Or could be over. You have to ask her tonight. She's the one who keeps track of that kind of things." And he was gone.

- House- House- House-

"Grreg?" Dominika asked. "Vat is going on vith you? You are more nervous now than vhen ve vere seeing the apparatchik."

"I can lie to my government and expect to be believed unless I screw it up myself," House sighed. "I can tell the most believable, perfect lie in the world to my Mom, and she will know it's a lie before I have got it halfway out of my mouth."

"She is yourr Mother," Dominika tried to comfort him. "She loves you. Vhy need you lie to her?"

"Too long a story," House shook his head. "Never mind. It will be fine, I'm sure. And even if not, they are here soon, so nothing I can do about it anyway. But, just in case it comes up: I didn't tell my Mom that I was in Prison. She thinks I was in Africa."

"But if you cannot lie to her…?" Dominika was puzzled.

"I sent her an email," House confessed. "It's a good thing she doesn't expect me to really be anything but rude."

"An email?" Dominika exclaimed, but before she could elaborate the door bell rang.

"Here goes nothing," House sighed as he walked to the door. He opened it wide to reveal his Mother and her soon-to-be-husband: "You rang, Sir?"

"Gregory," Blythe kissed her son. "I'm so glad you were able to have us here tonight. We need to talk."

"Come in Mom," House ushered her in. "And Mr Bell. Welcome. This is my wife Dominika."

"Enchanted," Bell replied kissing Dominika's hand suavely. "My soon to be step-son is one lucky man."

"How charrming," Dominka smiled. "Please come in. Velcome to ourr home. Let me offer you a drrink. Gregory got us some sparkling vine. The Mother of Gregory, too, I am most pleased to meet you."

"Blythe, please," Blythe replied smiling at the young, vivacious woman who apparently had captured her son's heart. "Call me Blythe, Dominika."

"Thank you," Dominika said as she gave Blythe a glass.

"And I'm Thomas," Bell stated as he took his glass. "I'm not having any of this 'Mr. Bell' when we're all soon to be family."

"I'm already feeling quite familiar with everyone," House muttered and gulped down his drink.

"Something is smelling wonderful," Blythe gushed. "Greg did say you were a wonderful cook."

"He flatterrs," Dominika replied. "It's just ordinary Ukrrainian food."

"I am sure there is nothing ordinary at all about your food," Thomas exclaimed.

"You got that right," House inserted. "She is making a fortune with her food in Atlantic City."

"So, how long have you been married then?" Thomas asked.

"About two years, right?" House turned to Dominika.

"The interview was after two years, so yes," Dominika nodded. "Two years and a couple of weeks."

"Interview?" Blythe queried.

"Her Green Card hearing," House clarified. "We failed, naturally."

"Failed?" Thomas wondered.

"The apparatchik found out ve vere frauding tem," Dominika shrugged regretfully.

"So now we have to be really married or she will be sent back to Ukraine," House added.

"I'm sorry," Blythe stared at them. "I don't quite understand."

"Two years ago she needed a Green Card and I didn't mind a wife," House stated. "So we got together and got married."

"Isn't that illegal?" Thomas remarked.

"Highly," House confirmed. "But she managed to convince them to give us another chance, so here we are now. Married."

"Oh," Blythe said – and couldn't find anything else to say.

"So, shall we sit down," House suggested brightly. "I think food is ready."

"Yes, please, sit, sit," Dominika invited. "I vill bring in the food."

"I'll help," House turned to follow. "Thomas, if you'd be so kind as to pour the wine."

"Of course, of course," Thomas effused holding out the chair for Blythe.

The conversation was mostly about food. Dominika explained the dishes and Blythe did her best to compare Ukrainian food with other ethnic cuisine she had eaten over the years. Thomas, too, added a comment or two and even House, though he was the one who spoke least, held his own. But nothing of importance was really said. Not until after the dessert.

"So your marriage having been one of convenience explains how you found it possible to give a year of your time to the needy in Africa," Thomas elucidated as he sipped his after dinner whisky. "Though I can't say I approve of the fraudulent marriage, at least I admire your need to give back something to humanity."

"Humanity is overrated," House muttered as he sipped his drink and watched Dominika clear the table. She had refused help.

"Greg," Blythe admonished him. "No need to display your cynicism. And I'm glad you are helping Dominika to stay here. Maybe you will find out that you like being married."

"I'm not just helping her, Mom," House pointed out.

"Yes, I know," Blythe accepted. "You'd end up paying a fine or something, too."

"She has more to lose," Thomas supported his wife-to-be. "I'm sure you could wriggle out of it somehow if you really wanted."

"Not really," House said with false nonchalance. "We have six months to prove that we are truly married. If we fail, I will have violated my parole and will go back in prison."

"Prison?" Thomas was the first one to repeat the word.

"Sorry Mom," House confessed. "I told you I was in Africa because I didn't want you to worry. In truth I was in prison for a year."

"Why?" Blythe was in shock.

"Assault with a deadly weapon," House shrugged. "I drove my car into Cuddy's dining room when she was having a dinner party. Or actually, just after they had moved into the living room to have coffee. Nobody got hurt, but still, not the thing to do. Especially as I fled the scene."

"You know," Dominika had finished clearing the table and was now sitting next to House. She decided to try and find something that would turn the conversation back to harmless topics. Her attempt turned out to be less successful than she had anticipated: "I have been vatching you two, Thomas, Grregory; and it is uncanny how sometimes you look like each other. Not look alike, I don't mean, just that there is something familiar about each of you. Have you known each other long before this?"

"Thomas is an old family friend," Blythe told Dominika.

"Must be just a coincidence," Thomas said at the same time.

"Same kind of coincidence as the identical, hereditary birthmark we both have on the back of our necks," House explained 'innocently'. "There are a few other similar traits but as you haven't seen him naked you couldn't know about those."

House's words sunk into the atmosphere like a lead balloon. For the longest time, nobody said anything.

"I am a doctor, Mom," House finally broke the silence. "You didn't really think I wouldn't notice?"

"I didn't think you'd …," Blythe sighed. "I didn't think you'd notice something like that let alone make any connections without a good reason. John was your Dad as long as he lived. Why would you check if anyone else was?"

"Mom," House frowned. "I've known since I was twelve that John wasn't my Father. As I have also known that Thomas here was the likeliest candidate for it."

"Since you were twelve!" Blythe gasped.

"What did you think the Summer of Silence was all about then?" House asked. "Didn't Dad tell you?"

"No. No he didn't," Blythe tried to find her bearings. "He just said that you had been unusually disrespectful. I assumed that as you were reaching puberty you were ready to fight him harder. That you had had just a worse fight than ever before."

"Well, that was certainly true," House assured her as he poured more drinks all around. Dominika was looking at him with worry but he gave her a reassuring smile.

"So now that you know I'm your Father," Thomas ventured. "What do you think?"

"Exactly the same I have thought for the last 42 years," House shrugged. "Nothing."

"But…," Thomas didn't quite know what to say next.

"Nothing has changed for me," House pointed out. "Except that now that you two are getting married I'm no longer quite the bastard I used to be."

"So you're ok with me marrying your Mother," Thomas wanted to know.

"None of my business," House repeated his earlier stand. "She is a grown woman and she must do what she thinks will make her happy."

"I'd like you to attend the wedding," Blythe told her son.

"I don't do weddings, Mom," House refused. "You'll be happier without me there sneering at the hypocrisy. "

"He did that even at our vedding," Dominika confirmed. "But of course, we were both prretending then, so that is hardly surprising."

"It would mean a lot to me," Blythe pleaded.

"I'm still on parole," House reminded her. "No leaving the state."

"But if we marry here?" Thomas queried.

"I'd rather not," House said.

"Please?" Blythe tried one more time.

"Let me know what kind of plans you have and I'll think about it," House relented. "Not that I want to, but you'll just call Wilson again and who knows what kind of scheme he'd come up this time."

"Thank you," Blythe smiled.

"And on that note," Thomas said standing up. "I think it is time we leave. There have been quite enough shocks coming this day, so better save some for tomorrow. Thank you, Dominika, for a lovely meal. I will remember to stop at your establishment if I even find myself in Atlantic City."

"I am glad you enjoyed the food," Dominika accepted.

"Yes, thank you Dominika," Blythe echoed. "I am sure we will meet again. Especially if we manage to convince Greg here to come to the wedding."

"Oh, I wouldn't…" Dominika started.

"You'd better," House inserted. "The immigration will be less than thrilled if I leave you home when my Mother is getting married."

"Oh yes," Dominika remembered. "You are right."

House ushered his parents to the door where they exchanged final good nights and good wishes and then he closed the door and leaned his forehead on it for a moment. As he turned around he found Dominika standing there with a big glass of bourbon in her hand. She gave it to him in silence.

"You know," House said as he gratefully accepted the drink. "You just might be the ideal wife after all."