"You drugged me," House said after limping into Cuddy's living room. He had spent all day being dragged miles and miles to his father's funeral and back by Wilson and looked every bit of it. Outside, the last remains of Fall held onto the night sky.

"Yes, I did," she stated matter-of-factly, waiting for House to give her a tongue-lashing.

He didn't. He just asked her why.

"Your mother wanted you there," Cuddy explained quietly, closing the door against the chill. "That alone should have got you there, but it didn't. Wilson and I just helped you along."

"Even though I didn't want to go."

Cuddy crossed her arms over her chest and said, "This was for your mother, House. You owe her that much and you know it."

"I don't owe anything to anybody," House declared, though he didn't sound quite as grandiose as he usually did.

"You owe your mother some common courtesy."

He sighed and muttered, "Mom got her wish", then carefully lowered himself onto the sofa. "Did you really have to drug me?"

"Yes." She walked over and sat down beside him.

"You actually thought that was a good idea? What's next…a bear trap under my desk?"

"It was the only way. You got your wish, didn't you?"

"How's that?"

"You got to spend some time with Wilson."

House grinned and it touched his tired eyes. "I did. That was your plan all along, wasn't it?"

"No, my plan was to knock your sorry ass out and get you to the funeral. Wilson coming along for the ride was an added bonus." Cuddy grinned back, pleased to see he was in a relatively good mood in spite of all that had happened.

"What a bonus it was. Too bad you weren't able to join us. You should have seen the look on his face when that old arrest warrant from Louisiana turned up when we got pulled over."

"Arrest warrant?" Cuddy gaped. "He didn't say anything about an arrest warrant. Do I even want to know what it was for? Is there a wanted criminal working in my hospital?"

After chuckling at the memory, House said, "Relax, it was just what crazy college kids do when they're drunk and bored and fight over the merits of Billy Joel songs. The state of Louisiana decided it wasn't worth hauling his butt over there for a twenty year old not-so-criminal crime. No need to lose any sleep over whether Wilson is great-great-grandson of Jack the Ripper."

"That's always good to hear," she said, with a sigh of relief that came out heavier than she intended. "Where have you been? You two got back hours ago."

"Having dinner with Wilson and listening to him bitch about having to bring all his stuff back here."

Cuddy's grin stretched into a face-splitting smile. "He'll be back in two weeks."

"He only gave you one week's notice--the prick."

"Two weeks is better than nothing," she pointed out.

"It is," House agreed.

"He doesn't have to come back at all."

"Don't remind me."

She slid closer and brushed her hand along his scruffy cheek. The gesture had grown to be automatic, a silent way of letting House know she cared, and House had learned to greatly appreciate it. He no longer flinched away when she touched him…well, he still did sometimes when he was upset. But he was getting better.

"Lets not give him a reason to change his mind and quit on us all over again," she said.

"I wasn't going to."

"Neither was I." She reached over and took his hand.

"Wilson and I are going bowling on Saturday."

Bowling was something she could never get into, but decided it wasn't the right time to disparage one of his past-times. House honestly enjoyed bowling and enjoyed it even more when playing with his best friend. Wilson was back, they were friends again and that's all that mattered. "I hope you two have fun," she said.

"Thanks," he muttered. "Cuddy?"

"Yes?"

"My dad died." House was suddenly solemn, his mood changing is if a switch had been flipped.

"I'm know," she said softly, giving the hand she was holding a gentle squeeze. With a pang of regret she noticed the sadness in his eyes…and something else. Something that only came to surface whenever House talked about his father, which was almost never. "I'm sorry, House."

"I want to be sorry, too, but I'm not." He looked away as if he was trying to soften the blow. Except Cuddy couldn't tell if it was to soften the blow for himself or for her. "I'm not sad that he's dead. He was a bastard to the very end. I'm sad because even though he's dead, it doesn't change anything, then or now."

"Why do you say such nasty things about your father, House?"

He looked at her, contemplating the question, before answering, "It's been a long day. I already buried the son of a bitch once today and don't feel like digging up any memories right now."