Marlena wasn’t used to sleeping in; usually she was up by six, making coffee and working on breakfast for everyone except Lily. When she opened her eyes to the bright tropical sunlight, she blinked, disoriented. A check of the nightstand clock showed it to be nearly seven forty-five, and with a muttered Austrian curse she sat up, reaching for her glasses.

There was a voice coming from the living room, and as Marlena reached the door, she saw House, stretched out on the sofa, with a diapered Lily on his bare chest, reading something aloud to her from a tourism flyer in his hands.

“Unfortunately, all the nude beaches are on Maui and Oahu, so we may have to settle for topless . . .” He looked up at Marlena, his expression all innocence.

She scowled at him. “I am NOT goint to a . . . nudie beach, Hasi!”

“Well duh,” House shot back. “Weren’t you listening? They’re all on another island.”

She sniffed and moved to the kitchen. “Jah. Leg or no leg, you vouldn’t be goot to look at eezer. Only Lisa oont Lily vould quvalify.”

House looked down at his daughter, who was experimentally gripping his chest hair and looking as if she might try tasting it. “Don’t. You won’t like it,” he warned her seriously. Lily blinked at him, and bobbed her head anyway, drooling.

House winced. “The only person permitted to yank the fur is sleeping in the other room, so lay off,” he murmured, setting down the brochure and working little fingers free of their tiny grip. Lily considered crying as her face working into a pout, but House shifted position, sitting up more and rubbing her rounded tummy. It fit into his palm perfectly, and he stroked. Lily sucked on one of her fists and blinked a little, quieting down. He stared at her for a moment.

“I detest babies,” he whispered to her, his expression solemn.  “You’re all so incredibly helpless at this point, completely dependent on your caretakers, and incapable of contributing anything to the general conversation. Loud noises scare you, you expect your demands to be met instantly, and you hog all the attention with women, whatever your gender.”

Lily ignored him, concentrating on her fingers. House bent and sniffed the top of her head, his breath stirring the delicate, nearly invisible blonde floss there. “But you generally smell good,” he admitted with reluctance. “And you don’t interrupt, or argue or criticize.”

Lily burped, and a warm cascade of milk spilled down her little chest and over House’s hand as she looked up at him, astonished over this development. He winced, but Marlena was there within moments to hand him a warm wet dishtowel. She tried not to laugh. “I sink zat was a pretty tellink comment on your judgment, jah?”

He handed the baby over, taking the offered mug of coffee in exchange, sulking slightly.


Later that morning they were ferried across the road to the beach, joining the other folks setting out for a day of sun and surf. Jasper had taken them in the Hibiscus Inn rickshaw, loading a huge canvas beach umbrella and cooler for them, and dropping them off just beyond the coconut trees. He handed Cuddy a card.

“K-den, back fo’ you when you call,” he told them cheerily, and rode off on the bike, leaving them to look out over the beautiful expanse of sand and waves.

“Oy,” House sighed. He took the umbrella and limped off, planting it firmly into the sand and working it open. The whole unreality of being on vacation was still taking some time to sink in, and the added oddness of having both Cuddy and Marlena with him didn’t make things any easier. He glanced over at them.

Farber was wearing some sort of gauzy pants and shirt combo in blue, with a bamboo print on it. The straw hat completely covered her head, and her sunglasses gave her a vaguely alien bug look. Cuddy was much nicer to stare at, House decided. She had a red tank top and denim shorts on, and her hair was in a ponytail. He wondered if she had a bathing suit on underneath; there hadn’t been time to check before they left the Inn.

The two of them spread the towels down, and began doing that settling in sort of thing that women at the beach have done since time immemorial; moving the cooler, the basket and diaper bag; the Imp. House grabbed one of the unfolding camp chairs and set it up under the umbrella, then dropped himself into it, making it clear his work was done. He eyed the Imp.

She was drooling in her carrier, the sun shade up and an extra towel draped over the edge, nearly blocking her completely from view. House knew further that she had on a long-sleeve tee shirt and slathers of lotion with a sun protection factor in the triple digits, courtesy of Wilson.

“Let me describe the beach to you, Demon Daughter, since your mother is never going to permit you any exposure at all to the sun, sand or surf,” he began in a dramatic tone, leaning a bit to speak into the carrier. “You’re probably going to be trapped in your hermetically sealed environment, doomed to pasty whiteness all your young life.”

“Meanwhile your father is going to lounge in the world’s most garish beach jams while he sucks down beer and ogles every parading beach bunny from here to Pearl Harbor,” Cuddy murmured, carefully setting up another beach chair for Marlena.

House looked down at his shorts, which hung just past his knees. They were a shade of violent orange, with pink and yellow surfboards on them. “I prefer to think of them as a deterrent to shark attack.”

“Blinding them is an interesting strategy, yes,” Cuddy agreed. “I’m sure you resemble some of the more toxic sea life out there to them.”

“Given vot’s in his bloodstream most of ze time, he probably is toxic,” Marlena added.

House made a face in her direction. “I’m sure your wrinkles will give them plenty to chew on.”

“Knock it off,” Cuddy murmured, taking Lily out of her carrier and cuddling the baby against her chest. “We’re here to relax, and rest—no sniping.”

“You started it,” House murmured, almost under his breath, but he grabbed his sunglasses and slipped them on, then leaned back in the chair, loftily ignoring her glare.

For a few hours it was good. The cooler held a few beers, some sliced fruit--mostly mango and pineapple—along with water and sodas. House snoozed and read and spent part of the time watching other people, his own included.

Marlena was crocheting again, working on something in delicate pink yarn. Periodically she would stop and rub her hands; House knew better than to suggest she take more frequent breaks and some acetaminophen. Cuddy snoozed a little, or read; she was working her way through Gaudy Night a few pages at a time. House supposed it was difficult to focus on England when the surrounding seascape pulled the attention constantly. Cuddy tried, but Dorothy Sayers ended up back in the tote bag before long.

She took Lily out and laid the baby on the towel, cooing and playing with her quietly, peeling off some of the baby’s unnecessary layers in the shade of the umbrella. Off came the long sleeves, and House rolled his eyes at the pink and white striped onesie, complete with legend across the tummy: Beach Bunny.

“False advertising,” House snorted. “More like Milk Leech, or Poop Princess.”

“Yes, well I could have gotten the one that said My Daddy is an SOB, but I thought that honest as that was, it might be a little tacky,” Cuddy replied absently. She tickled Lily’s nose and was rewarded with vigorous kicking on the part of the baby. Marlena looked over approvingly.

House looked out over the water. “Let’s go for a swim.”

Cuddy looked up at him, wary but quiet. “Go ahead.”

“Both of us.”

“I didn’t bring a suit,” she replied, turning back to Lily. House stared at her until the weight of his gaze forced her to look up at him again. He sighed harshly.

“When I proposed this trip, I pointed out—more than once as I recall—that it was a tropical island, with beaches,” he began. “I remember the word ‘bikini’ being suggested several times, as in ‘don’t forget to pack your bikini, She-Beast.”

“I forgot,” Cuddy replied in a deliberate monotone. “Chalk it up to stress.”

House arched an eyebrow at her. “Then it’s a good thing I packed one for you myself.”

Cuddy’s startled glance shifted to annoyance, and she pursed her lips. House gave her a falsely bright smile in return. “So tomorrow you can go swimming too—wasn’t that thoughtful of me?”

She muttered something under her breath and House was sure it had nothing to do with his consideration. Heaving himself out of the beach chair, he made his way down to the water’s edge, leaving his cane jammed upright in the sand just above the tide line.

It wasn’t easy; the sand underfoot shifted, but the lure of the blue water was strong, and House limped in, pleased that the temperature was warm. He made it to waist deep and dove in the rest of the way, giving himself over to the joy of buoyancy and waves. This section of the beach consisted of a stretch of smooth surf and House found it easy to float, lolling in the swells. He noted that both Marlena and Cuddy were smiling in his direction, and snorted, aware that they were probably making fun of him and his shorts.

He didn’t care. The water felt good, and the reduced gravity on his leg helped more than he wanted to admit. House rode a few waves and thoroughly enjoyed himself. He used his arms in powerful strokes, pleased that he could cover a decent distance without getting too winded. After about twenty minutes, he’d judged he’d had enough for the day so he let the surf push him, and rode the crest of a wave into shore, ploughing into the sand with more force than he’d anticipated. When he lolled on his back, House opened his eyes and looked up into Cuddy’s concerned face.

“Greg?” She bent lower.

He spit a mouthful of seawater in a spectacular geyser, barely missing her; Cuddy hissed at him. “Damn it! I thought you were hurt!”

“Only that you didn’t come in with me. This entire island deserves to see my wahine in a bikini,” House mock-sulked. He lay there, wet, realizing the one thing he’d misjudged . . . namely, how difficult it was going to be to get to his feet in the sand.

Cuddy rolled her eyes. “Sorry, but your wahine isn’t teeny. Come on, your shoulders are getting pink—“

She held out a hand and helped pull him up; House took shameless advantage of her assistance to drape all over her, getting her soaked in the process. Cuddy protested, but half-heartedly, and House smiled at her for one quick, unguarded moment, receiving a white, happy grin back as well.

“I approve of wet tee-shirts, by the way. Just in case there are any local contests you want to enter,” he told her. Cuddy helped him over to where his cane stood in the sand.

She pulled it out, and handed it to him. House took it, but didn’t let her go, keeping his left arm around her. They trudged up the sand to the umbrella, where Marlena handed House a towel, clucking as she did so.

“Sooch schenanagens!”

“Yes I’m sure we’ve totally shocked the Imp,” House agreed, wiping his chest and peering at the carrier where Lily lay sprawled, sucking her thumb, her little chest rising and falling with each breath. “Yowza! Stunned her into complete unconsciousness.”

“We ought to get going,” Cuddy murmured, hiding her smirk. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed for Jasper. “We’ve still got a car to rent.”


It took the combined efforts of both House and Marlena to convince Cuddy that Lily would survive being left behind with the older woman for the evening. Even as Cuddy put on her earrings, she fretted. “We won’t be gone long, and the number’s right next to the phone. I’ll have my cell . . . “

“Din-ner. Not a shuttle launch,” House griped from the living room. “I was hoping to eat sometime within the next twelve hours or so.”

“Hold your horses—“ she grumbled, fishing around for her clutch. When Cuddy finally emerged, Marlena gave a coo of approval, and House eyed her over thoroughly as he leaned on his cane.

He nodded, cocking his head. “You do Jersey proud. Let’s get going.”

“Just a minute—“ Cuddy grumbled, and bent to kiss Lily, who was clinging to Marlena’s shoulder, bright-eyed and alert. House gestured behind Cuddy’s back, and Marlena nodded.

It was going to be tough to pry Lisa away.

Moving carefully, Marlena began her little singsong voice, shifting towards the kitchen. “Come along Hasi-Lily oont ve’ll peek at vot Nana ‘Lena is goint to see out ze vindo--“

House tugged Cuddy towards the door; reluctantly she followed, trying to look back. He didn’t let go of her arm until she was climbing into the driver’s seat of the rental car. He limped around to the other door and got in, settling his cane between the seats and buckling up. “Come on, let’s go.”

Cuddy didn’t look at all enthusiastic, but she sighed and turned the ignition. “Doesn’t it bother you to . . . “

“What? Leave the Demon Spawn in the hands of the one woman who spoils her more completely than you do?”

Cuddy looked at him in astonishment, and her expression shifted slightly. She pulled out onto the highway, and by then she was smirking. House shot a sidelong glance at her. “What?”

“You’re . . . jealous,” came the little murmur.

House blinked. “Yes that’s it completely. I’m seething with rage that I’m not allowed to wear onesies and throw up on people at will.”

Cuddy laughed, and the rich contralto sound sent a pang through House. He loved her laugh—the genuine one that came out when she was relaxed and amused. “You’re jealous that I spend so much attention on the baby. Admit it.”

“I’m not jealous,” House contradicted firmly. “Neglected, but not jealous.”

“You are not neglected!” Cuddy snapped back, wide-eyed. “You have it easy, buster! You’ve still got the same free and easy lifestyle you’ve always had and you know it!”

“Not true,” came his quick response. “I’ve had to give up . . . things.”

“What things?” Cuddy demanded.

House looked away. “Music,” he admitted in a flat voice. “No more pounding out whatever I like, whenever I like, on the piano.”

Cuddy opened her mouth to speak and stopped, a little stunned. She hadn’t asked him to do that, but now that the thought back she realized he had. House hadn’t touched the piano or any of his other musical instruments since Lily’s birth.

“You can still play,” she managed. He looked back at her with a slightly cynical smile.

“The times I want to play don’t exactly coincide with the Imp’s schedule, She-Beast. Better to let the kid sleep than bring on the wrath of all three of you in fractured harmony.”

Chastened, Cuddy chewed her lip a little. “Well, we could soundproof your den.”

“Maybe,” he sighed. For a moment they didn’t speak, and Cuddy turned the car onto a side street lined with various restaurants. They found a community lot and parked. House looked around, and Cuddy looked at him.

He looked thinner, but good. The shirt he had on was toned down from his other island garb; almost tasteful. Pale blue batik print paired with clean khakis and his shades hanging from the breast pocket. Studying him, Cuddy felt a flare of heat that she tried to ignore.

He pointed with his chin towards the lights up the street. “Let’s get some sushi and not pay.”