cuddys_house | Morning, October 26, Corfu

Morning, October 26, Corfu

Cuddy stirred, rolling to her other side and burying her head in her pillow. Although there was plenty of morning sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains on the balcony doors, she was abdicating her role as the early bird in the relationship. Actually, she'd been doing that a lot on their trip, and what was really surprising was that she didn't feel the least bit guilty about it. House was clearly having a bad influence over her. She shifted position just a touch, trying to fall asleep again. Unfortunately, her bladder had other ideas. She grimaced, her face half smushed in the pillow, but there was no denying a full bladder. Not without unpleasant results.

She slipped out of bed as stealthily as she could. House was sprawled on the other side of the bed and, as far as she could tell, still deeply asleep. She made her way to the bathroom, shivering when her bare ass made contact with the cold porcelain of the toilet. The cool morning air would be refreshing if she were actually interested in getting up. Cold porcelain when all she really wanted to do was go back to sleep was an unwelcome shock. Still, there was a definite sense of relief when her bladder was empty, and she quickly washed her hands, intent on going straight back to bed and curling up next to House.

As she exited the bathroom, her eye was caught by the view of the sea. She made her way over and opened the balcony door just enough to look out. She stood there a moment in nothing but a thin nightie, soaking in the view...which was damn near perfect. In fact, in the short time they'd been on the island, everything had been damn near perfect: the views, the food, the weather, even the hotel. She'd enjoyed everything they'd seen, everywhere they'd been so far, but there was something about this place that had made her fall in love with it immediately.

They'd arrived on Corfu the previous afternoon after an overnight ferry trip from Venice. They'd had a good couple of days in Venice (good being defined as no major arguments and no outbreaks of PTSD) and when House had, purely on a whim, chosen Greece as their next destination, she'd been willing to go along. Greece wasn't on her top list of places to see but if the opportunity was there, she wasn't going to turn it down. She'd worried a bit about the long ferry ride. After House's complaints about the train, she wasn't sure how he'd do being cooped up on a boat for almost a day. The trip hadn't been bad, though. Since they were both comfort whores, they'd splurged on getting an actual cabin so they'd have a bed to sleep in, and so House could have privacy if he needed it. Outside of their cabin, there were diversions on board to keep House reasonably entertained. As it turned out, she had the biggest problem with the journey and that had been sea-sickness. Or maybe it was another bad bout of morning sickness, or even a combination of both. Either way, it had made her miserable enough that she'd asked House for some of the anti-nausea medicine he'd brought. And yes, she'd felt guilty about taking it but it had done the trick.

She opened the balcony door a bit wider to feel the breeze. The sun was already warming the air for what promised to be another mild, sunny day. She glanced over her shoulder at the bed and her smile grew wider. House was still lying just as she'd left him. He looked so peaceful it seemed a shame to wake him. Not enough of a shame to stop her from doing it, though. She left the balcony door standing open and walked back to the bed. He only stirred a little when she slipped under the covers and moved close to him. Still smiling, she propped herself up on one arm and leaned over to press light kisses to his face, so light her lips barely touched his skin. He wrinkled up his face at that but still didn't wake. Curious as to how long he'd continue to sleep through the kisses, she moved down, placing more kisses across his chest. She made a trail of kisses along his collarbone, then nuzzled into his neck for a few more before flicking her tongue over his earlobe.

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All the while through Cuddy's exchange with the mother, House remained sitting on the ground, watching them. A couple of times he glanced at the girl and caught her eyeing the sandcastles he and Cuddy had made with impatient longing to get going on her own. Finally, the mother returned to her towel, and Cuddy and he were left with Molly.

He threw Cuddy a look at her telling Molly he needed lessons in sandcastle building - but then began giving her a gloating look when Molly said much the same about Cuddy's skills, or lack thereof. "You can always count on a kid to give you unmitigated constructive criticism," he taunted Cuddy as the girl settled on her knees in front of them.

He looked back to the girl. "So, what would you suggest I do to make my sandcastle really good?" he said to Molly.

"Well, first," Molly said, holding her bucket and one of her plastic shovels, "you need a bucket and a spade. You can't make a sandcastle without a bucket and a spade."

"And what do you do with the bucket and spade?" he asked, even though he of course knew.

"You make a sandcastle with it, silly!"

House played along, theatrically tutting at himself with an equally theatrical roll of his eyes. "Silly me. Should've guessed."

Molly picked up one of the other plastic shovels and held it out to him. "You can help me if you want to."

"You're supposed to be helping me," House countered. He took the spade, anyway.

"Yes, but..." Molly started, but quickly became distracted by shovelling up sand instead of finishing her sentence. She scooped sand up, dumped it in the bucket, repeated. House started to join in.

"So, like this?" he prompted, dumping a spade full of sand in the bucket.

"Yeah, like that!"

"Pretty hard work," he mock complained. He nodded towards Cuddy. "Gonna let the queen of the castle over there join in?"

Molly obediently picked up a plastic rake and held it out to Cuddy. "What's your name?" she asked Cuddy.

Cuddy had pretty much stopped working on her castle entirely. She was too amused by watching House and Molly begin their collaboration. Some children Molly's age were very shy around strangers. Others--like Molly--seemed completely at ease no matter where they were or who they were with.

"It's Lisa," she said in response to Molly's question. She pointed the rake at House. "And he's Greg."

"Is he your husband?" Molly asked, still busily filling her pail.

"No, he's my...boyfriend." Cuddy didn't really like that word but it was the simplest. She doubted Molly, at all of maybe five years old, would really understand the nuances of terms like 'significant other' or 'partner' or 'lover' anyway. And she was certain Molly's mother wouldn't appreciate it if Cuddy attempted to explain.

"You're American. I can tell 'cause you talk funny."

Cuddy let out a laugh. Molly was rattling off these statements, utterly serious and straightforward. At the same time she barely paid attention to the responses. She was almost preoccupied by building the sandcastle, patting the sand firmly into the pail.

As Molly tried to show House where and how to add the sand to his castle, Cuddy glanced over at House with a grin. "I think you may have met your match, Dr. House."

House felt undeniably somewhat awkward with Molly around. For a start, she was a kid, and while he generally didn't actually mind kids, he wasn't used to having kids around him on such an informal level. Sure, he treated kids in clinic all the time, and there'd been a time when he was with Stacy where he'd had to go to family gatherings and somehow always ended up being the huge toy all the kids played with. But that was years ago and this wasn't clinic, so it was definitely foreign.

He glanced at Cuddy, amused, when Molly asked what their marital status was. "Don't worry," he informed Molly when she mentioned that they both spoke funny because they were American. He pointed his spade at Cuddy. "She always talks funny."

At Cuddy's remark, he just threw her a scoffing 'yeah, right' look. He had to agree, though - he liked Molly's straightforwardness. He liked that about any kid. Innocent and ignorant of so many things, yet always observant about the world around them.

"So..." he said, helping Molly pat the sand down in the bucket. "What now?" He picked the pail up and held it above his head, joking around with Molly. "Do I put it on my head?"

"No!" she exclaimed.

"Oh." He lowered the pail, pretending to look confused. "Okay..." He then stretched the bucket across to Cuddy. "Do I put it on her head?"

"No!"

"Oh, I get it," he said with sudden pretend realisation. "I put it on your head."

"No, silly!" Molly laughed. She patted the sand with her hand, giggling almost uncontrollably. "You put it here."

"Oh, okay," House said. He set the bucket down on the sand, right way up, knowing she meant upside down.

"Not like that!" she laughed. "Upside down, you silly."

"But then all the sand will come out!" House exclaimed.

Molly sat on her haunches, spade in hand, laughing hysterically with her other hand over her mouth as though he'd just told her the funniest joke in the world. House couldn't help cracking a smile - her laughter was contagious. "That's what it's supposed to do," she giggled.

"Is it?" he asked with pretend fascination. He picked the bucket up and quickly turned it upside down, then lifted the bucket slowly to reveal a bucket-shaped mound of damp sand. He theatrically widened his eyes with awe. "Now, why didn't I think of that?"

Molly giggled again. "Because you're silly!"

"No, you're silly," he countered.

"No, you're silly," she laughed, pointing.

He pointed back at her. "You're sillier."

"No, you're sillier."

"You're silliest."

"No, you're silliest."

"You're the one giggling," he said, which made Molly giggle even more. "You're giggling like a silly person. Only silly people giggle."

Molly giggled even harder. "I'm not silly," she tried to say around all her laughter.

"See, you're giggling. Means you're silly!"

"I'm not silly," she giggled again. She pointed to herself. "I'm Molly."

"Oh, right," he relented, then playfully taunted, "You're Silly Molly."

"I'm not Silly Molly, I'm Molly." She pointed at him again. "You're Silly Greg."

"I'm not silly!" he replied, pretending to sound offended. "I'm never silly!"

"Yes, you are," Molly giggled. "You silly."

House pointed at Cuddy. "She's the silly one. She's always silly. In fact, she's sillier than both of us. We should call her Silly Lisa. With her silly sandcastle. She can be Queen Silly Lisa, the queen of silliness."

Molly just laughed, so much her face was a little red from all the giggling.

Cuddy tried to work at her sandcastle but she found herself too distracted by House and Molly's interactions. Molly's giggling was infectious and Cuddy found herself grinning simply at the sound of the little girl's laughter. And watching House be so relaxed and having fun was always...well, it was rare and she really treasured the times when all his issues, all his fears and pains and bitterness subsided into the background. Watching him play with Molly was like seeing the House that could've been. And, she hoped, the House he could be, at least with their own child.

"Oh, hey," she protested when he started pointing at her. She glanced at Molly and said in a conspiratorial tone, "He's the queen of silly."

Molly gave Cuddy an shocked look, then burst into fresh giggles. "He's a boy. He can't be a queen."

"Okay," Cuddy said, conceding the point to Molly's simple logic. "But he is silly. He even keeps toys in his office at work."

"Grown-ups aren't supposed to have toys," Molly protested.

"He does, though. He's got a Gameboy and a Magic 8 Ball and another ball he bounces on the walls. And probably some toys I don't know about it," Cuddy said, giving House a knowing look. She was sure House had lots of things she didn't know about, toys included. She probably didn't want to know about some of them.

She leaned down close to Molly and whispered--loudly enough for House to hear, "To tell the truth, I don't really think Greg is a grown-up. I think he might just be a really, really big kid."

"I'm definitely not a queen," House agreed, though his comment was half directed at Cuddy because he knew she'd understand the adult term of 'queen' in reference to guys.

While Cuddy and Molly talked, House started shovelling fresh sand into the bucket. He just smiled to himself at their talk of grown ups and toys. "I know what toys you have, Lisa," he replied, giving her knowing look in return.

A purple toy, to be precise. That buzzed when switched on. And went in unmentionable places during use. Distracted from that thought, he narrowed his eyes while Cuddy and Molly conspired in front of him. Him doing that seemed to make Molly giggle again.

"He's too old to be a kid!" Molly exclaimed.

"Thanks for the subtle reminder," he replied dryly.

Molly shovelled up some sand with her spade and dumped it into the pail. "You're old like my daddy," Molly continued, engrossed in what she was doing. "But I don't see my daddy much. I live with my mummy."

House paused what he was doing and met Cuddy's gaze uncertainly, not expecting this sudden turn in conversation. He returned his attention to Molly and resumed shovelling sand. "That's too bad," he replied. "Do you wish you could see your dad more?"

Molly shrugged. "Yes. But he's always busy. Mummy says he's too busy to spend any time with me. I only see him at Christmas time and sometimes on my birthday." Molly suddenly went a little subdued. "He forgot about my birthday this year."

Cuddy was having so much fun with Molly, and with teasing House through Molly, that the little girl's comment took her completely by surprise. Her head snapped up and she caught House's eye. Almost immediately she dropped her gaze to the sand. It was an unexpected, and unwelcome, reminder that she might be facing the same situation Molly's mother was living--single parenthood with an absent father.

It was a situation she'd been prepared for when she was going through fertility treatments with anonymous donors. Now that she was with House, though, it wasn't acceptable. She didn't ever want to hear her own child sounding sad because his or her dad ignored his parental responsibilities.

"I'm sure it was an accident. He'd probably really sorry," Cuddy said when Molly mentioned her birthday.

"That's what Mummy said," Molly said but she didn't sound convinced.

"Some daddys are pretty forgetful. They don't mean to but they have a hard time remembering stuff like birthdays." Cuddy felt like telling Molly her dad was a jerk and she was better off without him but she didn't actually know that was true. Even if it was, saying so wouldn't make the little girl feel any better.

"My dad is so forgetful, he even forgets his own birthday," Cuddy told her.

"I'd never forget my birthday," Molly said, incredulous.

"Neither would I," Cuddy agreed. At her age birthdays weren't such a big deal. In fact, they could be a little depressing at times. But she'd never forget them. "But boys are silly that way." She directed Molly's attention to where House had the bucket full of sand but he'd left it sitting in front of him.

"See, I think Greg has already forgotten what to do with the bucket," she told Molly. "You'd better remind him."

Molly looked at House and stuck her little fists on her hips in an exasperated pose. "Greeeegggg."

House wasn't really sure where to look. Kids, in all their bluntness, had ways of being bluntly honest about their excitement as much as their disappointments. This whole absent daddy thing was definitely something he wasn't comfortable offering any form of counselling on. If anything, it made him feel very uncomfortable about how not unlike his own situation this was; the choice to be around as a father, or the choice to not be around.

But like any kid her age, Molly lived pretty much in the present. Past and future tense didn't mean much to her, just like dwelling on the past wasn't too within her scope. As quickly as she'd become subdued at the memory of her dad not being there for her, she just as quickly returned to the present, to the very important task of sandcastle building.

"Huh?" House said, snapping back to attention when he heard Molly whine his name. Wow, kids had such a knack of turning one syllable into many. "Molllllyyyyyyyyyy," he whined back, which made Molly giggle all over again.

"You're supposed to be filling that with sand!" she said, pointing bossily at the bucket. "You can't make a sandcastle without sand!"

House obediently stuck his spade into the sand, exaggerated, mock expression of intimidation at being told off. "You know what I think I'm gonna call you? Miss Bossyboots."

"I'm not Miss Bossyboots, I'm Molly!" she replied, pointing at herself.

"Bossy Molly."

"No, silly!" she giggled.

"Molly the bossyboots."

"No!"

"Molly the silly bossyboots."

Molly was back to laughing again, both hands over her mouth as she giggled uncontrollably. So, House asked, "What's so funny?"

She giggled harder. "You are."

"I'm not funny. I'm Greg!"

"Funny Greg," she giggled.

"Silly Molly," he countered.

Molly pointed at him while looking at Cuddy. "He's silly," she giggled.

Cuddy let out a mental sigh of relief when Molly's attention was so easily re-directed toward House. She'd hadn't known what to say. She'd actually felt a touch of panic because she didn't know how to talk to a child about the fact that her daddy had forgotten her birthday. Cuddy realized her fear wasn't so much about Molly. She was just a gregarious little kid who'd stopped by to build sandcastles. She'd leave and her mother would have to deal with the messy stuff.

That, of course, was what had panicked Cuddy. She worried that she was going to have to deal with her own messy stuff. She worried that she'd have to learn to talk to her child about why daddy wasn't around. She didn't want to have to do that, and she wasn't sure she could do it in a way that would cause the least possible pain to the child.

"Absolutely," Cuddy said, drawn into House and Molly's interactions again. "He's the silliest American in Greece."

"Yes," Molly said, shaking her finger at House. "You're the silliest American."

Cuddy abandoned her own barely-begun sand sculpture and crawled over to 'supervise' House and Molly's construction efforts. She had fun encouraging Molly to tease House. Not that Molly needed any help in dealing with him. She had no idea he was a stubborn, bitter, misanthropic cripple. To her, he was just a silly American building sandcastles and she liked him.

"So who lives in your castle?" Cuddy asked Molly.

"The king and queen," Molly said, looking askance at Cuddy, as if that was a stupid question.

"But the king and queen of what?" Cuddy persisted. "The king and queen of Spain? Or Great Britain? Of the Land of Sand?"

"America," Molly said after a moment of intense concentration. She pointed at House. "You can be the king of America and you can boss all the other Americans around and your kids will be princes and princesses and they'll get all the best toys." Molly smiled at House, delighted with her single-handed overthrow of American democracy.

"Don't listen to her," House complained, jerking his thumb at Cuddy while Molly scolded him for being the silliest American. "She's only saying that because she wants to win the sandcastle making competition."

This was anything but a competition, though. Molly had completely diffused the entire notion of a competition, instead distracting both Cuddy and himself with her infectious laughter and plain innocent fun. While Cuddy and Molly discussed who was going to live in the castle, House topped the bucket up with more sand and patted it flat. He stopped what he was doing, though, when Molly informed him that he was going to be the king of America and all his kids were going to be princes and princesses.

"You know, I think she's onto something," he said to Cuddy. "Trust a kid to have more common sense than our own politicians. I would make a great king. I'd make it my personal ambition to rid the world of stupidity."

He turned back to Molly and gave her a lop-sided smile. "Only one problem," he said to her. "What if I don't have any kids?"

"Well, that's silly," she declared. "All grown ups have kids."

House raised his brows. He figured from that single statement that maybe she came from a family bursting with aunts and uncles and cousins and second cousins. Probably surrounded by adults with kids. "I'm a grown up, and I don't have a kid."

Molly gave him another one of her incredulous looks. "Why?"

Oh great, he suddenly thought to himself. He looked across at Cuddy briefly, then licked his lips as he returned to Molly. "Because," he said, "some grown ups don't choose to have kids."

"Why?" she asked again, still incredulous.

"Because..." He trailed off, trying to think how to explain this. "Well, for instance. If you had to choose between white chocolate and brown chocolate, which would you choose?"

"Umm..." Molly thought about that for a second, obviously taking the question very seriously. "White chocolate," she decided. "I like white chocolate."

"Right," House agreed. "That's the same with grown ups. Sometimes, they choose one thing because that's what they like. Sometimes they choose another thing, because they prefer that. Same goes for kids. Some grown ups choose not to have kids. And some grown ups can't even have any kids."

"Why?" Molly asked.

"Because there's something in their bodies that stops them from having babies." He threw a glance over at Molly's mother, thinking to himself that she probably wouldn't appreciate her kid having a complete stranger have this conversation with her.

"Can you have babies?" Molly asked.

House turned back to her. "I... can," he replied slowly. He pointed at Cuddy. "Well, Lisa can. It's always the mommy's job to have the baby."

"Then how come you haven't got one?"

"Because..." House knew he didn't have to answer these questions. But this kid was on the ball and was putting him on the spot, with a subject he had no idea how to approach. He glanced very briefly at Cuddy again. "Because Lisa's going to have a baby. She has a baby growing in her belly."

"And that's your baby, too," Molly assumed, pointing at Cuddy's belly, then at House.

"Yes," House agreed, suddenly feeling like he'd stepped into the Twilight Zone with this whole conversation. "That's my baby, too."

"You're the daddy."

"Yeah, I'm the daddy," House echoed a little absently.

"And you're the mummy," she said to Cuddy.

"You're the mummy and you're the daddy," Molly repeated with all the innocence of a little girl who had no concept of how messy grown up problems were, pointing at Cuddy again and then at House. She probably didn't even really understand what she was talking about when it came to babies being in Cuddy's belly. She pointed at herself again. "And I'm Molly."

She then pointed at Cuddy's belly again. "And that's your baby. I like babies."

"Well, you certainly have the ego for the job," Cuddy said when House decided he'd make a great king. She wasn't convinced he had any other necessary skills for kinghood, though. Diplomacy was not one of his strengths. Neither was organization. And besides, he'd look silly in a crown.

A small frown wrinkled her forehead as House got himself into a discussion about having children. Aside from the fact that Molly was probably far too young to grasp the issues involved in that decision, Cuddy was surprised that House didn't simply divert the conversation in a different direction when it started to get complicated. He typically didn't have a problem with ignoring topics he wasn't comfortable with, although she thought it was possible he was continuing the conversation with Molly as a way of reminding Cuddy of his choice.

She really got confused, then, when he told Molly about the baby. The last thing she expected him to tell anyone was that she was pregnant with his baby. She stared at him, only half-listening to his conversation with Molly, trying to figure out why he'd admit he was going to be a father...unless it was that he knew he'd never see Molly again and therefore there was nothing to lose by admitting it.

"Babies are good," Cuddy agreed, still somewhat dazed by the turn of the conversation. She pressed her hand over her abdomen as Molly pointed feeling somewhat self-conscious even though she knew the pregnancy wasn't obvious. Actually, if the pregnancy were obvious she wouldn't mind. It was this early stage where she'd gained weight but still lacked the 'baby bump' that made her feel sort of fat that she didn't like.

"You don't look like you have a baby in your belly," Molly said.

"It's still very small," Cuddy explained. "Pretty soon, though, it'll be big enough to make a bump."

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

"We don't know."

"You should have a girl," Molly said matter-of-factly as she started scooping sand again. "Girls are better. Boys are messy."

"Boys are definitely messy," Cuddy said, glancing over at House. "But they're not all bad."

As Cuddy conversed with Molly, House silently shovelled more sand into the bucket, dazed himself over how the conversation had turned to something like this.

The thing about kids, though, was that they approached all situations without prejudice. It was therefore easier to just say it straight to Molly that Cuddy was pregnant than to an adult. Molly would never ask for an explanation. She wouldn't get the consequences of his and Cuddy's situation. She wouldn't understand anything beyond the very basic fact that Cuddy was had a baby in her belly and that he was going to a daddy and Cuddy was going to be a mommy.

Still. That definitely didn't stop that very basic fact from being confronting and uncomfortable and as Molly asked whether it would be a boy or a girl, House felt suddenly a little fidgety to get off this topic. He glanced at Cuddy just as she glanced at him and said about boys not being all bad.

"They're all bad," he countered. "Trust me. I should know - I was one myself."

"Boy germs," Molly giggled.

House looked back to Molly and saw she was pointing at him with her other hand covering her mouth as she laughed. Why it was so much easier to relax around a kid, no matter the conversation, House wasn't entirely sure. Probably because it went back to the fact that they were so innocent and so unconditional with how they approached people, and without bias.

"What are you giggling at, Miss Bossyboots?" he replied, glad to take the escape from the topic of babies where he could. She just giggled more at his harmless namecalling and protested that she was Molly. "Yoooou have girl germs," he teased, stretching an arm across and giving her belly a quick tickle.

She shrieked with delight and ticklishness and jerked away, giggling even harder. "Do not," she replied. "I'm a girl. I don't have germs."

"Oh, yes you do," House taunted. "Big, smelly girl germs." He theatrically mimed a big monster approaching Molly with his hands poised as claws and his face screwed up with a comically scary face, which wasn't scary at all.

Molly just laughed. "You're so silly."

"I think 'silly' is your favourite word," House replied, dropping his hands back to his lap.

"Molly!"

House looked over his shoulder at Molly's mother, and saw she was folding up her towel. She motioned for Molly to come to her. "Time to go," she called.

"Awwww!" Molly called back, whining. Her face suddenly set into a stern frown and she defiantly crossed her arms over her chest with a stubborn pout. Molly clearly wasn't going anywhere without a fight.

"Molly," her mother commanded sternly. "Come here, please."

Molly just shook her head.

House jerked his head towards Molly's mother. "Go on," he told Molly. "Your mom wants you to go with her."

"I don't want to go," she replied, her voice so childishly stubborn that House had to refrain from breaking out into a grin. "I'm playing."

"Molly!" her mother demanded, now sounding annoyed. "Come here right this instant."

Molly just shook her head again and adjusted her crossed arms over her chest as though to say she was staying right where she was.

Cuddy idly dragged the plastic rake through the sand, grinning as House and Molly argued over boy germs and girl germs but her mind wandered. Molly's innocent questions and observations had stirred up a lot of her own questions and concerns. They weren't new ones. From the moment she'd found out she was pregnant she'd known there were a lot of issues that would have to be dealt with. She'd been putting off dealing, though, telling herself there was plenty of time. But was there really all that much time? The next six months would be busy. The time would go quickly and there were questions she wanted to have answered before the baby was born.

She glanced up as Molly's mother called to her, then watched as the little girl got a stubborn look on her face. Cuddy sighed and collected the toys, then got to her feet.

"Come on," Cuddy said, holding her hand out. "Your mom was nice enough to let you play with us for a while. Let's not make things difficult for her now."

"She's just going to make me take a nap," Molly protested.

"A nap sounds good to me."

"Grown-ups don't take naps. Naps are stupid."

Cuddy knew enough about kids to know she wasn't going to win an discussion with a five-year-old who didn't want to take a nap. So she simply leaned down and took Molly's hand in hers and started walking toward the mother. Fortunately, Molly didn't go into a full-blown tantrum. Cuddy wasn't sure what she would've done if she had. Instead the little girl just pouted--hard--and dragged her feet through the sand.

After returning the little girl to her mom, Cuddy slowly walked back to House and sat down on the sand next to him. She was quiet for a moment, still thinking things over. Then she waved her hand at his 'castle.' "I'm pretty sure you lost the contest."

House watched Cuddy take Molly back to her mother, then looked down at his incomplete castle, staring at it even once Cuddy had settled onto the ground beside him. What he'd expected from a simple sandcastle making competition, he wasn't entirely sure. It had just been a fun, stupid thing to do to pass the time, and he'd had every intention of cheating to win. And instead, found himself in a conversation with a little girl whom had single-handedly confronted him with his major issues regarding Cuddy's pregnancy without even being aware of it.

"Mine's still better than yours," he countered, nodding his head at Cuddy's shapeless mound of sand.

He sighed, no interest in completing the so-called competition. If anything, he felt like going for a walk or going somewhere - on his own. Dusting the sand from his hands, he added, "Guess this means I owe you an ice cream," he said, deciding that would be a good enough excuse to be by himself for the time being.

He stood up and stretched his back, then started towards their towels. "I'll be back," he told Cuddy over his shoulder.

Gathering up his cane once he reached the towel, he also fetched his wallet and began heading down the beach towards where the food venues were. He didn't even mind too much that the sand was difficult to navigate over. Going slow meant more time to himself, more time to think. He let his mind wander while he walked, contemplating some of the things Molly had said and his own situation.

If anything, he decided as he reached the first place that sold ice cream, he was even more confused now. A big part of him really didn't want to find any truth in what Molly showed him; the part of him that was still adamantly refusing to accept the situation. But another part of him really didn't like the way Molly had said about her dad not being around, and hadn't liked how that clearly affected her.

House glanced at his watch. Well, he realised when he turned his attention back to the ice cream vendor, soft serve was something Cuddy couldn't have because of risk of listeria, something all pregnant women had to avoid. He kept walking and finally settled on a place and made a purchase.

"No ice cream," he lied when he returned to Cuddy a little while later, armed with a couple of white cardboard boxes. "So, you're going to have to make do with Pastitsada."

"You had help," Cuddy countered, waving her hand at the pail-shaped towers on his castle. "I had to do it alone."

She didn't really care about the sandcastles, never had other than it was a way to goof off. She was simply making conversation--simple conversation that didn't require much of her attention because her mind was still fixated on the questions Molly had stirred up.

She nodded when House got up and continued to stare out at the water. Was she going to have to make up excuses when House missed a birthday, or a recital, or life? That was the worst case scenario--House taking himself out of the picture, no relationship with her, no relationship with the child. Or did she not make excuses and tell the truth? No, definitely not that. The truth would be unnecessarily cruel to a child.

The truth was that she didn't want to have to consider that set of options. She didn't want House to take himself out of the picture. She wanted him involved in her day to day life, in their child's day to day life. So what she had to figure out was not how to deal with his absence but how to prevent him from being absent. At the moment, that seemed more difficult than planning to raise a child alone.

She pushed up and walked into the water, ducking under to wash the worst of the sand off. She grabbed her camera and headed back to their towels. She stretched out and basked under the sun. House was gone so long that by the time he returned, even her swimsuit was almost completely dry.

"Not exactly our deal," she said mildly. She opened the box and sniffed. Definitely not ice cream but it smelled good. She sat cross-legged and prepared to dig in. She hesitated and glanced over at him. She just couldn't let the earlier conversation go without comment.

"I don't want that to happen to our child. I don't want our child to feel unwanted." Cuddy started to say more, then shook her head and turned her attention to the food.

"Deal or no deal," House replied, handing a box down to her. "If it's no deal, I'm hungry enough to eat both, anyway."

He settled down beside her and opened the box to start tucking in straight away. Big enough breakfast though he'd had, playing around in the water and roasting in the sun and being confronted with things he didn't expect to find himself confronted with was all hungry work. Not to mention he wasn't too interested in conversation right now, because his mind was elsewhere and he was pretty sure, gathering from Cuddy's quietness, that her mind was the same.

Just as he scooped a bit of chicken and pasta up with his plastic fork to pop in his mouth, Cuddy proved him right with her remark. He halted for a beat, then shovelled the food in. As he chewed, he took particular interest in his surroundings, even though he'd seen it all a hundred times today already: kids playing, couples sunbaking, people splashing about in the water, seagulls swooping and scrounging for food.

He turned his attention down to his food for another forkful. "There's a lot of things I don't want," he replied. He sectioned off more chicken, scooped it up with pasta and put it into his mouth.

Like this baby. He'd spent a good portion of his time not wanting this baby. He didn't ask for it, he never planned for it to happen, he definitely never intended to ever have a child in his life. But even he was beginning to realise that not wanting it wasn't going to change or stop the inevitable from happening. Cuddy was going to have this kid, whether he liked it or not, and he didn't have a whole lot of options.

"You think I want this kid to feel unwanted?" he asked a little tersely, looking across at Cuddy.

Cuddy took a small bite of the pastitsada first to see if she liked it. She nodded to herself at the flavor and took another, bigger bite. She rolled her eyes when he said there were a lot of things he didn't want. She knew that, in general and about this baby in particular.

She immediately shook her head, though, at his question. "No, of course not. I didn't mean to imply that you want that. I was just...I don't know...making a statement of my position. Of what I want." She stabbed her fork at her food. "And yes, I know what I want isn't what you want. I know nothing's changed but sometimes I feel the need to state the obvious. Just in case there's any confusion."

She wasn't trying to be difficult. She really didn't know how else to approach the subject with him. At least, not a way that wouldn't make him angry. She knew this might make him angry, too, but she thought that maybe if she simply made the occasional statement of fact and then left it alone, it might prompt him to think, maybe even talk. And she needed to talk to him about this.

House stabbed at another piece of chicken while Cuddy talked, feeling... he wasn't sure what he was feeling. Cornered, definitely, particularly after their encounter with Molly. Impatient that Cuddy was bringing this up yet again. Confused. Worried. Very worried, in fact. He was reaching a realisation he'd been reaching for a while now. And it worried him. And scared him. Terrified him.

"Yeah, well, just so there's no confusion," House retorted shortly, looking across at Cuddy, "I'm well aware that nothing's changed."

He fell silent, focusing on eating his food. As he made his way through his meal he looked anywhere but at Cuddy, thoughts running and churning through his head like cogs. A big internal debate was going on inside him: one minute, he'd think about how much fatherhood really, truly scared him. All the things that could - and probably - would happen if he chose to stick around. Any possible way out of this. An escape route. Thinking about all of that brought back the uneasy memories of their first day in Paris, the fight they'd had, the way Cuddy had threatened to leave.

But then, the next minute, he'd suddenly remember the way Molly had said about her dad never being there, the way she'd become subdued when she said that her dad had forgotten her birthday, how both of those things reminded him of what Wilson had said: would House rather at least try to be a dad to his kid and be there, or would he rather neglect his responsibilities entirely? And then he'd be back to thinking about all the negatives all over again.

He was disappointed to realise he'd reached the end of his meal. Scraping up the last remaining crumbs and sauce with his fork, he tossed the cardboard box beside him as he chewed and licked his fingers. He drew his knees up and wrapped his arms loosely around them, and sighed while he stared out at the ocean.

"I don't want this kid to be unwanted," he said. "No kid deserves that. I don't want..."

He trailed off. What didn't he want? There were so many things he didn't want. He took a moment to try and organise his thoughts, try and get across what he wanted to say without causing Cuddy to get defensive, like she always did whenever they talked about this. Not that he was innocent of getting defensive, either.

"I don't want to do the wrong thing," he finally said, still without looking at her. "Knowingly or unknowingly, or..." He shook his head. "None of this was intentional. I know you didn't intentionally... you know. Fall pregnant. But that doesn't make knowing what the right thing to do is any easier."

Cuddy deliberately ignored House's sharply voiced agreement that nothing had changed. She was determined to stick to her plan of voicing her feelings in a simple statement and then letting the subject drop. She intended to stir those thoughts once in a while but otherwise leave them to simmer in his mind. He wasn't stupid, after all, nor was he evil. She had to trust he would eventually make the right choice. The right choice, of course, being what she wanted.

She concentrated on her meal for a while. Romping around in the water, the fresh air and warm sun had given her an appetite. And fortunately the morning sickness remained dormant which meant she could enjoy eating without the fear she'd bring it all back up. It was a fairly generous portion, though, so she'd only gotten a little more than half of it eaten before she began to feel full.

She glanced over when House spoke again, surprised that he was still talking about a subject she knew he didn't like to discuss. She listened carefully, though, trying to understand what the biggest obstacle was to getting him to accept the baby.

"It wasn't intentional," she agreed. "I didn't choose you to be the father of my baby...but I'm not sorry you are. I know you're going to get it wrong sometimes. I know I'm going to get it wrong sometimes. But I absolutely believe that you...that we can be good parents to this baby. If I didn't believe that, we wouldn't be sitting here having this discussion."

Even as Cuddy responded to what he'd said, House remained staring out at the sea. He hated this. He hated how anxious this whole thing made him feel. He hated knowing that there was no easy solution. He wasn't just faced with the issue of fatherhood. He was faced with the issue of his relationship with Cuddy. Whatever choice he made regarding this kid was going to affect his relationship with Cuddy. And he didn't want to lose her, he really didn't. He was afraid he just might, though, even if he did decide to be in the kid's life.

"It's not just about the kid," House replied. "It's about us, too." He turned his head to look at Cuddy. "What if we get it wrong? Us? Even if we were good parents, what if it's us that we can't get right?"

He looked away again and sighed. This really wasn't a thought he wanted to be contemplating. He was in this with Cuddy for the long haul. He wanted to wake each morning with her by his side. And if not by his side - because he had no plans of moving in with Cuddy, at least not yet - at least with the knowledge and assurance that she was his.

He shook his head again. "We've only been together two months. If that. Barely enough time to adjust to that, let alone having to adjust to the fact that you're baking a sprog." He snorted to himself. "First serious relationship I've had in years, and I barely get any time to enjoy it before it all dramatically changes."

Cuddy couldn't deny that she worried about them as well. Their relationship was volatile at the best of times. The added pressure of trying to make a romantic relationship work and throwing a baby into the mix only increased the likelihood that everything would blow up in their faces. She had to focus on the fact that despite all their ups and downs over the years, they'd stuck together. She had to focus on the positives.

"Personally, I find the fact we're going to have a baby makes it more enjoyable," she said, a bit sullen at the way he--once again--treated the pregnancy as a personal affront. No, she wouldn't have chosen to get pregnant so soon in their relationship. Given his attitude, she might never have chosen to get pregnant with him. But now that she was, she saw it as adding a dimension to the relationship, making it deeper. Making it more important because it wasn't just the two of them being affected by their decisions anymore. And she knew very well that wasn't the way he saw it.

She sighed and brushed her hand over her face, pushing away the stray curls. "I can't think about it the way you do. I just can't." She glanced over at him before looking out at the sea again. "I have to believe we can make a relationship work, that we can be good parents. Thinking only about how it can all go wrong just sucks all the joy out of it. And I want the joy."

House looked across at Cuddy incredulously. He didn't get how she would find having a baby with him enjoyable. It had been anything but enjoyable so far. And maybe it was different for her because she'd always wanted a baby, but he certainly didn't find any joy in the way this baby had come about. He'd never planned to have kids. He'd never intended to wind up in a relationship and end up a father. He couldn't help but think about the worst case scenarios. That was what experience had taught him - to expect the worst.

It had come up when he was with Stacy, the discussion of having kids, and while Stacy had expressed the occasional fantasy of being a mom, it was a mutual agreement that they didn't want kids. That had been the only time in his life he'd ever had to consider being a father, apart from the times his mother made not so subtle hints that she wished she could've been a grandmother. And now, here he was, sitting right next to the woman who was carrying his child.

"I want to believe we can make this work. You think I don't want that?" House argued. "You think I want to think about all the ways it could go wrong? That I like thinking about all the ways it could go wrong?" He stared into her eyes, searching them. "I think about those things because what we have matters. And I don't want to lose what matters."

"I know you want it to work," Cuddy said, returning his gaze. "But you focus on all the ways it might not. You're so busy anticipating the worst that you don't leave yourself open for the best."

She knew she did the same thing at times. She strongly suspected that was the reason some of her recent attempts at relationships hadn't worked out--because she subconsciously expected them to fail. Unlike House, though, she still tended to be optimistic. She still hoped for success even when she suspected failure was more likely.

She brushed her hand over her face again and rested it against her temple to stop the breeze from blowing stray curls over her face. "Have you ever considered there may be something of a self-fulfilling prophecy at work? That maybe you sabotage yourself because that way you prove you were right to expect the worst to begin with?"

She knew that was true. She knew he did his damndest to push every relationship to the breaking point because the failure of those relationships proved his cynical attitude was correct. She suspected everyone did that to a degree but House took it to the extreme. It was a fundamental difference in their personalities.

"I don't want to lose what matters either. That's why I have to believe it will work." She reached over to grasp his hand. "That's why I can't think about how it could go wrong. Because if I do, I'm afraid it will go wrong and I can't stand to think about losing this."

House peered at Cuddy for all of a few seconds as she gave her reasons for why she thought he sabotaged his own happiness, before looking away dismissively and a little defensively. Maybe there was an element of self-sabotaging that went on when it came to his own happiness. Who didn't self-sabotage in some way? He refused to think his misery in life was caused entirely by himself. He'd had a damn hard life, with a lot of hard lessons to learn, and life had thrown him a lot of hard curve balls. He didn't see any of those curve balls as his own acts of sabotage. And it therefore wasn't unreasonable for him to be constantly on guard towards life in general.

He looked back at Cuddy when she took his hand. He studied her eyes for a moment, then looked down at his hand in hers. He lightly ran his thumb along her thumb before returning his attention to staring at the ocean. "I'm no expert in raising kids, but I know having a kid changes everything," he said.

He looked back to Cuddy. "This kid isn't even born yet, and it's already changed everything. Ultimately, every decision we now make about us is influenced by this kid, whether I like it or not. Whether we stay together or not is going to be influenced by this kid. And that in turn will influence the kid's life itself. Everything we do or don't do is going to influence this kid's life."

He returned his gaze to the ocean. "I don't want to be a bad influence on this kid," he said after a small pause. "I don't want this kid growing up hating me as much as I hate my dad. But what's the right thing to do? Have as little influence as possible and hope it won't hate me for not being in its life? Or have a huge influence and run the risk of maybe being hated when it's old enough to realise how screwed up its parents are?"

"No," Cuddy said, shaking her head. "I mean yes, every decision we make will influence this child, but whether we stay together is purely our decision. We stay together because we love each other, not because we produced a child."

She believed it was usually better for families to stay together. She believed it was usually better for a child to have two parents in the home. But she also acknowledged the reality that sometimes it was a bad decision for two people to stay together, for them and for their children. Sometimes everyone was happier if they weren't together. It wasn't the ideal situation but sometimes it was the best one.

"You know what my answer to that is--I think you should be an influence. Just do the best you can and be there," she said. She'd said that often enough that she knew he understood her position. She wasn't sure he knew how strongly she felt about it, though, so she added, "Maybe you don't realize, though, that even if we didn't stay together, I'd still want you to be part of this kid's life."

She leaned in, bumping her shoulder against his. "I know you need to work this out in your own head and make the decision you believe is right. I just wish I knew how to convince you that you can love a child and it can love you just as much as I do."

House sighed, feeling a little dazed and bewildered. Maybe it was simply because it was still fresh in his mind the way Molly had raised all these thoughts and issues, but House couldn't get past the fact that one little, innocent little girl, completely ignorant of his own situation, could single-handedly... well, provide all the answers for him that he'd been struggling with - or against - these past few weeks. Maybe that would all change once Molly faded to the back of his mind and became little more than a memory. Or maybe... it wouldn't. This was definitely the most he'd ever talked about this issue, without feeling a huge need to duck for cover.

He let his head fall back, peering up at the sky with his eyes squinted against the sun. He felt so torn right now. He felt torn between his own worries about this whole thing, and what Cuddy was saying. He felt torn between wanting to run as far away from this kid as his bum leg could take him, and wanting to do the right thing. And the worst part was, acceptance though he kind of had reached now, who knew what he'd be thinking or feeling in the next 24 hours.

His whole body swayed slightly as Cuddy nudged him and he levelled his head again to look once more at the ocean. He just shrugged at what Cuddy suggested because what else could he really say? 'Yes, I agree'? 'No, I disagree'? He couldn't really argue either way, not in the state of mind he was about it right now. He didn't even want to argue about it. He was in way too much of a contemplative mood to even muster the energy. That and the hot sun was zapping the energy right out of him.

With that last thought in mind, he turned his head and looked at Cuddy. "Wanna make a move? I can already feel myself starting to burn, and I'm not interested in doing a cooked lobster impression for the rest of our vacation."

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