House and his mom belong to David Shore. Greg is mine and I like it like that!

It's been a very long time since I posted. I thank everyone for not coming after me with flaming torches and pitchforks in the interim. For those of you who encouraged me to continue, I thank you!

As a short recap, Blythe has walked into the conference room and discovered Greg with House and the team. House has a case and so allows his mom and Greg to go and get to know each other while he and the team figure out what's wrong with their patient.

The backstory I've written for Greg and how he got to Princeton is the result of a writing assignment for a class I was taking. I realized that it would fit nicely here so I decided to integrate it into the story. Rather than trying to turn it into dialogue with Blythe asking questions, I decided it would work better told in third person. I've tried to make it easy to see where Greg's story begins and ends, but I wanted to let you know why it's written like it is.

Like Father, Like Son Chapter 33

Blythe led Greg to a little red sports car. "This isn't what I usually drive, but it was available, and I thought 'Why not?'"

"You don't live around here, then?"

"No, Gregory wouldn't like that much, so I keep my distance. After his father died I thought about moving closer, but decided to keep things as they were."

Greg got into the car and buckled up. "This is so cool!"

Blythe grinned. "It is, isn't it? Your dad -" Blythe faltered, "Wow, I never thought I would get to say that - your dad is going to be very impressed! It was on the lot when I went to get my rental and I just couldn't resist. Okay, where to?"

It was nearing 11:00 so they decided it wasn't too early for lunch. Greg directed his grandmother to an Italian place that he and his dad had been and they went in. After ordering drinks, breadsticks and lasagna for two, Blythe took a long assessing look at her grandson.

"I can't believe how much you look like Greg. I would have known you anywhere. I can only imagine how your dad reacted when he saw you standing at the door!"

"Yeah, he was pretty freaked. It took a while for him to get a grip and get his head around it. I think I nearly sent him back to the loony bin."

"That's what he told me this morning. You probably did the right thing though. He might not have stepped up if he saw this coming. You were lucky to find him home, though. He's been staying with James since he left Mayfield. What would you have done, if he hadn't been home?"

"I don't know. I was so tired that I couldn't think beyond him answering the door."

Blythe nodded and chewed a breadstick. Greg thought that he was going to like his grandma. She didn't have the intensity that House had. She was calm and poised. Once she'd gotten over the shock of seeing Greg, she hadn't stayed all weird and weepy.

"Your dad told me about Renee, losing your family and the day you showed up on his doorstep, but how did you get here?"

The waitress placed the plates of lasagna on the table in front of them and it gave Greg a second to gather his thoughts and figure out exactly how much he wanted to tell her. He decided that the whole story would be good. His dad had asked for the details but he hadn't been terribly forthcoming with him. The experience had been a little raw yet and Greg hadn't been ready to talk. His grandma would be a sympathetic ear, he believed, and so he began. Even now as he was telling her about it the memory seemed almost like it had happened to someone else as he thought back to those early days without his family...

With anxiety and a fair amount of excitement mingled with sadness, Greg looked around the room he was vacating. He'd been raised in this New Orleans home for fourteen years by his mother - then his grandparents. His life had been good despite Hurricane Katrina taking the life of his mother. Living in the Birthplace of Jazz and surrounded by musicians he'd been left a legacy that buoyed his spirits now that he had to leave. He was bound to become a ward of the state because he'd just buried his grandmother and there was no one left to care for him….except the man in the picture. The man was tall and lanky with curly hair like Greg's own and he hoped that the man remembered that night with the same fondness his mom did. It was his only hope.

Greg closed his eyes humming the lullaby he'd heard his mom sing from the time he was an infant until she died. It taught him his history and promised that although her pregnancy was unplanned he'd never been a mistake. The young lovers were just on different paths so it wasn't meant to be.

Memories - no matter how sweet - weren't going to get him anywhere and it was time to say good-bye to life as he knew it. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and locked the door. As he walked down the driveway he made the requisite calls:

"Mrs. Brown? Hi, this is Greg, I'm staying at the Robertson's, from my homeschool co-op. They say I'm welcome there as long as I need to stay and John is my age so I'll fit right in."

"Hi, Mrs. Robertson, this is Greg. I'm just calling to let you know that I'm staying with the Brown's from my church. They say I'm welcome there as long as I need to stay and John is my age so I'll fit right in."

Aside from the fact that he wasn't staying with either family, the information was true. Greg was sure the families didn't know each other and he wasn't close enough to either family that they would think to follow up on his arrangements. Now the busybodies had enough information to keep them happy. The people who really mattered believed he was going to stay with a distant relative and he'd be in touch once he'd settled in. Greg left just enough information behind that no one would think to question his plans for the future.

With that job completed, Greg pocketed his phone, hopped on his bike and headed to the bus station. An odd sense of freedom and fear churned in his stomach. Although he'd never felt so grown up, he'd never felt so young either.

Arriving at the bus station, Greg placed his bike in a bike rack and headed inside. The place was crowded and he was glad he'd purchased a ticket earlier in the week. Selling his guitars hadn't been as hard as losing his family. They were heirlooms and worth more in sentiment than monetary value, yet he needed money to live and since he wasn't sure of his future he was clinging to every penny.

Within the bus station, families hugged and said good-bye causing the ache that had been nagging Greg for the past week to bubble to the surface. He headed to his gate and was thankful to be able to board immediately and lose himself in the ragged copy of Gulliver's Travels he'd grabbed as an afterthought.

An elderly woman plopped beside Greg and sighed deeply, "That's the last time I'll ever see my family. I'm dying and they don't know it. I'll tell them later, but I didn't want this last visit to be all about cancer." She looked hard at Greg, saying, "I said that out loud, didn't I?"

Greg nodded and felt the tears again. "My grandma's funeral was almost a month ago, my grandpa's funeral was two years ago, and my mom died volunteering after Hurricane Katrina. Now we're even." He half smiled, but couldn't control his quivering chin.

"Enough sadness," said the woman, "My name is Helen and if we're going to be spending most of the next 24 hours riding together we'd best come up with something better to talk about!"

He shook her hand. "I'm Greg."

After the bus driver welcomed the passengers, the new acquaintances continued their conversation as the bus pulled from the station.

"So," Helen said, "On an adventure? Out to seek your fortune?"

"I'm going to find my dad." Greg replied. "He doesn't know I exist, but I want to see what he's like. My mom kept an old Polaroid picture of him and between that and knowing his name; I think I've found him in New Jersey. He isn't married so I won't be messing up his family."

"That's a bold move! I hope you've thought this out."

"I'll meet him and see how things go. My mom liked him a lot. She said they had a lot in common - they clicked. Mostly geography got in the way."

"I'll say they clicked, if you were the result! Why doesn't he know about you?"

"My mom didn't want to… make him feel obligated.

"I don't know whether to think she brave, foolish or selfish!"

"Maybe all three, but we were solid as a family – just Grandma, Grandpa, Mom and me."

Helen nodded, and then told him something about herself and her family. When she found out she was dying, she'd gone to New Orleans to say good-by and clear the air. She didn't want anyone to have any regrets after she was gone. Her trip was successful and she'd left her revised will with a lawyer who was also a family friend.

They alternated between playing travel games, talking about their lives and interests and ate together during the short stops for food and to change drivers. Sleeping on the bus was uncomfortable, so it amounted to short naps followed by a stiff neck.

In the wee hours of the morning, Helen and Greg eventually settled into silence, then sleep.

Suddenly the bus screeched and tumbled. Bodies flew against the sides of the bus and into each other. Once the bus stopped its movement there was a terrible silence, then moaning and crying. Although battered, Greg was unhurt. He found Helen who wasn't so lucky. He helped her limp off the bus and they found a grassy spot alongside the road. They were aware of the chaos, but only concerned for each other. Helen's steps faltered and as she was sinking to the ground Greg notice how pale she'd become and realized that she was far more injured than she'd let on.

She smiled weakly, "Stay brave, Greg. Many people face adversity and ask, 'Why me?' but instead, you asked 'What's next?' then pursued your dreams. You're a winner. You've maintained your perspective despite many difficult circumstances and although today is another tragedy in your life, I want you to keep going and succeed. Find your dad." Helen squeezed his hand gently then died.

Greg looked around at the carnage and felt completely helpless. Occasionally, someone would stumble from the bus, but mostly there was just crying and calling for help from within.

A distant siren brought Greg back to his own reality. He had no next of kin to call for help and the authorities would be asking questions he couldn't yet answer. He needed to disappear while he still could.

Although he knew he was more than halfway, Greg didn't know where he was or how far he had left to travel so he picked up his backpack and began to walk. Surely there would be a train station in the next town and he could continue his journey - he was done with buses. He used the wooded landscape alongside the road for cover and before dawn walked toward a well-lit area and discovered a truck stop. The guy behind the counter was reading a newspaper and didn't see Greg enter. He used the showers and got rid of his bloodstained clothing, sticking them in a trashcan as he left the restroom. Greg was cold, still trembling from fear and hunger, but at least he was clean. He grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen for his achy body, some crackers, chips and chocolate milk then paid for them at the counter. He'd figured out from the cashier's newspaper that he was in Wilmington, Delaware and not nearly as far from Princeton as he'd originally thought – if he remembered his map correctly – but he still had a ways to go.

A young couple with a toddler came up behind Greg as he asked where the train station was. The toddler grabbed the strap dangling from Greg's backpack and giggled as it slid off Greg's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry!" The mother quickly picked up her smiling baby. "You need to say 'Sorry, Mikey'" she instructed him.

Again, the baby giggled, "Thorry, Mikey!" he said, unconvincingly and tucked his head under his mommy's chin.

"We're still working on manners," the mom said. "Did I hear you say you were looking for the train station?"

"Yes," replied Greg, "I sort of missed my ride and I'm trying to get to Princeton, New Jersey before dark. My dad lives there."

"Excuse me a sec," responded the woman. She and Mikey left to speak to her husband and Greg went to sit on the curb and eat his meager snack.

Shortly, the man came out of the building at sat down beside Greg. "We don't normally pick up random strangers and offer them a ride, but you look a little lost and we have the room if you need a lift and don't mind sharing the backseat with a budding backpack thief."

Greg looked and the man and silently considered his options. There weren't many. He'd discovered his phone was missing as he was dressing after his shower, so there was no one to call. He didn't have anyone's number memorized even if he wanted to go back to New Orleans. He could walk around and try to find the train station on his own or he could accept this man's offer. He was with his family, so Greg figured he was pretty safe.

The man's voice broke into Greg's thoughts. "We can do you one better than the train station. We're headed to Newark and we practically pass through Princeton."

"That would be great!" Greg said with a smile. This was the first glimmer of hope Greg had felt in hours.

"I'm Stan and my wife's name is Maggie. Come on, let's get going. Hopefully, Mikey will sleep and you won't need to do much to entertain him."

Greg laughed. "I see how it is, now!"

Stan just grinned and said, "Yup!"

Once on the road, Maggie asked how Greg came to be where they'd found him so he told them and took it as an opportunity to figure out what he would tell his dad. He was surprised when two hours later they arrived in Princeton. He told them House's address and before he knew it he was standing just outside his father's place. Greg thanked Maggie and Stan, waved to Mikey who was just waking up from his nap and watched as they drove away.

He'd done it. Just over 24 hours from leaving his home in New Orleans, Greg was standing in Princeton with no idea what the future would bring.

Greg walked around the block a few times and sat on a bench for a while trying to get up the nerve to knock on the door. He saw a man on a motorcycle fly past, park his bike, grab a cane and climb the steps that led to House's apartment. Greg started to approach his dad right then, but fear and apprehension paralyzed him and he watched as his dad vanished into the building. He pulled the copy of Gulliver's Travels out of his backpack and read until it was too dark to read any longer. The time had come for Greg to swallow his fear and knock on the door.

Greg thought his hand would fall off before his father answered the door. If he hadn't known his dad was in there and that he had no place else to stay, he would have given up – but this was the end of the line and Greg knew it.

The door opened and Greg didn't hesitate because if he did he would bolt.

"Congratulations, Dr. House, you're a father! Where do I put my things?"

Blythe laughed and Greg remembered where he was, shaken loose from the memories that had gripped him. "I guess I could have done a little better introducing myself, but I'd rehearsed it that way for so long it was just the first thing that came to mind."

"Well it worked, and here you are!" Blythe took a sip of coffee then leaned back in her seat. "It sounds like you still have a few loose ends to tie up back in New Orleans. I bet there are people wondering what happened to you and if you're safe - I can help you track down those numbers. The bus company is probably wondering what happened to their missing passenger, and most importantly, we need to see if we can buy back those guitars. I'm sure you would like to have them again.

Greg's eyes shone at the thought of having his guitars returned. "My guitars…really?"

"I don't see why not. It hasn't been all that long and I bet you remember who you sold them to so they shouldn't be too hard to track down. I think if you explained the circumstances under which you sold them, your dad could buy them back for about the same amount."

"I never thought I'd see them again. What if the guy I sold them to doesn't want to sell them back to me?"

"Your father can be very persuasive. You just leave it to him."

As Blythe and Greg pulled up to the curb, House exited the hospital. His eyes lit up as he approached the little red sports car and recognized who was within. Before Blythe could put down the window, House had the door open and exclaimed, "Chinese fire drill!"

Greg moved to the back and Blythe moved to the passenger's side while House impatiently revved the engine as everyone settled it.

House drove out of town down the roads he used when he wanted to enjoy the wide open spaces on his motorcycle. Blythe started to tell him to slow down, but between the look of joy on her son's face and the thrill she was feeling, she couldn't bring herself to do it. This was as close to a perfect day as she could remember and Blythe wasn't willing to change a thing!