A/N: Okay, I've hemmed and hawed about this story, and damnit, I'm gonna post it! It's sort of a sequel to Meaning, and I originally posted it for a few minutes as Secrets in the Garden. Maybe it's a little fluffy, but since Meaning was post-No Reason, this is my take on House after that, because IMO, I think we'll see some kind of change in him this fall, even if it's just a slight one. I do have a plot; it'll come up later. If you don't like it, go eat poo. If you do like it, please review! (Oh no I'm a poet and I didn't know it. Help!)

Disclaimer: I don't own House…..yet. Muhahaha!

GHMDGHMDGHMD

She loved the smell of jasmine in the evening. Suddenly there was a sharp rap on the gate, followed by a jiggle of the latch. The door swung open.

"Your doorbell doesn't work," House said impatiently.

"Yeah I know," Cameron said, carefully placing a marker in the book she'd been reading and getting up from her lounge chair. "I just moved in; that's one of the things on my landlord's to-do list. How did you find me? I haven't even gotten around to getting my paperwork to HR yet."

"I have my ways," he said, observing the patio. There was a trellis across the top of the gate with jasmine growing over it, a ficus tree in one corner, and buttercups in another.

"Jacuzzi?" he asked, eyeing the covered structure to his right. "Nice."

"It came with the place," she explained. "I have no complaints. Is there a new patient at this time of day, or is Wilson out on one of his cute-nurse-dates again?"

He surprised her by producing a shopping bag from behind his back. "Someone told me you acquired a gas grill for your new patio. I wanted to make sure you knew how to use it. Where's the kitchen?"

"It's right through there," she pointed past the Jacuzzi toward the sliding glass door leading to the kitchen. "So you're cooking me dinner?" she asked, amused.

Yes. Do you want a Super-Special Double-Decker House Burger or not?"

Cameron laughed, led him into the kitchen, and began rummaging around for utensils.

"So what have you got there?" she asked, peeking into the bag.

"Gimmie," House said, lightly slapping her hand away from it. He pulled out a box of Bubba Burgers, buns, and a styrofoam container. "That's for later," he said, as he put the mysterious container into Cameron's fridge. "I see you have everything else we need. I'll get the grill started."

She followed House back out to the patio and sat down, a smirk on her face. "So, what are you really doing here?" she asked.

House turned to look at her. "I told you, I'm hungry. I thought you might be too. Now shh! Watch the master at work."

While House busily flipped burgers, Cameron decided to play nonchalant and opened up her book to read. In truth, she was peeking over the top of it, observing him. The first thing she noticed was that his tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth, as if grilling burgers was some horribly difficult task. Still, it was kind of cute.

They decided to sit outside and eat, enjoying the evening breeze and the scent of jasmine. House finished his burgerand asked her an oddquestion.

"So tell me how you started collecting elephants. Wilson showed me the birthday gift he got you. Why elephants?"

Cameron blushed and pushed her empty plate away. "Well, this is going to sound stupid, but…"

"Impossible," House interrupted with sarcasm, "Nothing you say tonight will be stupid. Unless maybe you start speaking in tongues or something."

"Well," she began, "when I was in high school, the office staff would put some of the lost and found items in the window. So I was walking by one day and there was this big ceramic elephant, painted in a pearly finish. I thought it was pretty stupid that someone could lose something like that, so I marched in there, made up some story about losing it, and walked away with the thing. I still have it; I've collected elephants ever since."

House pondered this for a few moments before he said matter-of-factly, "Well I guess you learn something new every day."

GHMDGHMDGHMD

It had been about two months since Cameron's birthday, and she and House had gotten together a few times outside of work, no dates or anything fancy, just taking the chance to get to know each other better. It surprised House to learn of Cameron's taste in music being so similar to his own. A year ago he would've pegged her for the classical only type. One particular Sunday morning, they had driven all the way out to Belmar just to eat at Connolly Station, and he'd caught her singing softly along with the radio. The thought briefly crossed his mind that day that maybe he'd have to write a song for her sometime.

Things at work were pretty much the same as they'd always been as far as patients were concerned, but the six doctors had become just a little bit more like a team, a force to be reckoned with if need be. When Cuddy finally released House from the ICU, they had gathered to congratulate Cameron on officially accepting the offer to replace Dr. Horne as head of Immunology in three years when he retired. Her short experience being in charge of her fellow doctors, added to the fact that, plain and simple, she had House as a boss, had finally made her realize that she could be a leader. She was still a little nervous that the promotion would make her the youngest department head in the hospital, but she was glad to have three years to prepare.

Since it was finally official, Cuddy scheduled Cameron for eight hours a week working directly with Horne whenever she had time away from Diagnostics.

The Ketamine had done well for House, allowing him to rely less upon his cane than ever before. He would still need to use it for the rest of his life, but his pain was nearly nonexistent, and on a good day (usually being a day he spent outside work with Cameron), it seemed as though the pain wasn't there at all. He hadn't had any neurological symptoms so far, and that was one among a few other things he was very grateful for.

None of them ever talked about the shooting itself. House was still House, and none of the rest of them really felt a need.

GHMDGHMDGHMD

Cameron absently fingered the fire agate House had given her as she sat sipping her coffee. She had woken up early that morning, glad to have a few minutes of peace before heading to work. Her pager went off.

'Figures,' she thought. It was House of course, claiming emergency, when it reality it was probably just that he had arrived early to work and found an absence of fresh coffee. She rolled her eyes with a smile and headed out the door.

Though she and House had slowly grown closer, they both kept the same professional attitude while at work, and each of them respected the other greatly for it. Additionally, they continued to keep each other in check. If Cameron put forth a ridiculous differential, House shot it down as he always had. When House did something bordering on illegal to solve his puzzle, she called him on it.

"We forgot to eat dessert last night," started House as she breezed through the door.

"What?"

"Dessert," he repeated. "The styrofoam mystery package. It was dessert."

She remembered now. "Oh. Well…do you want to come over again tonight for coffee and dessert then?"

"If you insist," he said with a small smile. "But no peeking, it's a surprise."

"On my honor, I swear not to open the mystery dessert," she quipped.

The day went by slowly; they didn't get a case until that afternoon, when a man came into the clinic complaining of a headache and fever. Foreman was on clinic duty that day and had discovered bruises all over the patient's body. "Where did you get these?" he asked. "Play any sports?"

"No," the patient replied. "They just started showing up. And I've had a sore throat for a few days too."

Foreman called in a nurse to have the patient brought upstairs.

"Evan Kresley, age 27," Foreman read from the chart as they sat in the conference room. "Came into the clinic with a headache, fever, sore throat, and spontaneous bruising." He looked at House expectantly.

"Okay," House started. "Differential Diagnosis." He picked up a marker from the table and began scribbling on the white board.

GHMDGHMDGHMD

House let himself through Cameron's front gate at quarter to eight that night. He brought a bottle of sangria, which he had discovered was her favorite. "Hey!" He shouted, noticing that the sliding glass door to her bedroom had been left open a few inches. "I hope you're decent up there," he quipped. "I wouldn't want to give you any ideas." It had been their inside joke since the night of her birthday, I wouldn't want to give you any ideas. It didn't make much sense to anyone, including the two of them, but somehow the phrase had stuck.

As he walked inside, he heard U2 quietly streaming from her stereo. He smiled at the fact that she left the doors open all the time. She was an enigma; this free spirit who had for some reason made a conscious decision to ground herself. He shook his head, I'm becoming a sap, he thought.

Cameron padded down the stairs in a faded pink sweatsuit with Pan Am printed on the pant leg. "They were my mom's once. It's laundry day," she explained. "Sangria, yum," she smiled. "Is there a special occasion?"

"Not unless you plan on running away to Tahoe with me," House joked. "Come on, my bag's in the car."

"Oh please," she rolled her eyes. "So can I see this mystery dessert now?"

"Right." House went to her fridge and pulled out the container.

"Baklava!" Cameron sighed as he opened it. "That's my favorite. Have you been conspiring with Cuddy? She and I were talking about our favorite desserts the other day…"

"Guilty. But the real surprise is…" he trailed off. "It's…my mom's recipe. I made it." Cameron smiled.

They sat outside again, the air full of jasmine, watching the sunset.

"I smashed my little brother's fingers in a car door when we were kids." Cameron said out of nowhere. "I did it on purpose. I didn't feel sorry. In fact," she said slowly, turning to look at him, "I kind of liked causing him pain."

"Hmm," House pondered. "Well…I hope he got you back for it." He found himself somewhat speechless.

GHMDGHMDGHMD

House came back to his empty apartment later that night and headed straight to bed. Every once in a while, he'd still have dreams about Cameron like the ones he'd had after he'd been shot, and tonight was one of those nights.

'You're a lucky man, House,' Wilson said. They stood on the small balcony that ran between their two offices. He turned to look at his friend. 'She loves you…with that unconditional love that everyone's always talking about,' he said bitterly. 'Something I never even came close to, just look at my marriage track record. Don't screw it up.' Wilson turned back to his office, and suddenly House found himself on the dock again, his arms wrapped around Cameron, the two of them framed like a postcard against the sunset. 'I always wanted to live up here,' she said, and turned to face him. 'I'm glad you came along.'