Author's Note: My first attempt at a realHouse fic. I love this show and could stare into Hugh Laurie's lovely blue eyes till the end of time.:) There are no particular spoilers here. This is an angsty, somewhat steamy, and kinda sad fic centered around House mainly, but with Cameron added to the mix (see angsty and STEAMY). Reviews make me happy . They make me want to write down the half dozen or so other plot bunnies for House fics that are running around in my head.

Disclaimer: If I owned House the man I'd probably have my way with him on an hourly basis every day. But, alas, I don't own House and I don't own the show itself. Life just isn't fair…:(.

Thanks to CarefullyAskingGrace for the beta work. You rock!

A quick shout out to my friend csishewolf just because she's a freak. Your LJ? I'M SO GONNA SPAM IT:P

On with the show……

Giving up

By Grissbabe, aka Housecam, aka just plain-old Sammy:P.

Cameron dropped her bag by the front door as she swung the door shut and made a beeline for the kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of red wine and a glass from the cupboard she walked lazily to the living room, collapsing on the couch. She slowly poured and sipped her wine as she mulled over the day's events.

Their patient was a six year-old boy suffering from peculiar black-outs that rapidly led to multiple system failure. The rate at which the boy began to deteriorate left no room for mistakes and no room to play around to find the source of the boy's problems, like they usually did. House had been relentless, shouting at all of them and being more than his usual cranky self. His frustration was palpable as she stood and watched him stare at the whiteboard, his brow creased in deep concentration. She had faith that House would save the day, as the rest of the team was utterly stumped as to what to try next. She made herself ignore the fact that House had seemed…distracted as of late, even with a new case. 'He'll figure it out. He has to,' she thought to herself.

But he didn't.

The young boy's condition deteriorated at an alarming rate, and after 2 days of fighting with every ounce of strength that his small body could muster, Ryan Alexander quietly slipped away. House and the team had stood silently around the bed, the only sounds coming from the muffled sobs of Ryan's mother as she buried her face in her husband's chest.

"I'm sorry," House had muttered gruffly before quickly exiting the room, leaving his team to deal with the aftermath.

An hour later Cameron made her way into the conference room to grab her things and head home for an evening spent with a glass of wine and a heavy heart. She glanced cautiously into House's office. The lights were out and he was gone.

Now she sat on her couch wondering where they went wrong and what House was doing. She figured he probably went home to get high and sulk. No puzzle solved, which always pissed him off. 'He's probably taking out his childish anger on his beloved Gameboy,' Cameron thought as she sat, softly weeping for the boy they could not save.

He wasn't at home, but he was certainly sulking, staring drunkenly into the amber-colored liquor in front of him. With a shaky hand he downed the drink in one shot, the bourbon marking a fiery trail down his throat.

"Barkeep…give it up," he slurred while banging his glass obnoxiously on the counter.

The bartender stared wearily at his regular customer. The great Dr. Gregory House…so drunk he barely managed to stay on his stool. He shook his head slowly before speaking.

"House, man…go home. Let me call you a cab or something. Don't you think you've had enough?"

"Nope," House muttered as he laid his head on the counter. "Don't wanna go home."

"Well, you can't stay here, man. Why don't -"

" I fucking said NO!"

And with that House tipped off the stool and crashed to the ground with a loud thud. The pain shot through his leg like a white-hot fire. The bartender jumped over the bar and bent down to help House back up, but was greeted with a gruff push to the chest. As House breathed through the pain he began to chuckle softly.

"Guess I'm pretty loaded, eh?" he slurred. Reaching into his pocket he produced his cell phone, unceremoniously throwing it at the bartender. "Here…call Cameron. Cameron will come get me. She LOVES me," he yelled as he awkwardly stumbled to his feet, wincing from the dull ache radiating from his thigh. Grabbing his cane, he shuffled drunkenly in the direction of the men's room as the bartender shook his head and began paging through the phonebook of House's cell phone.

Once inside the men's room House flipped the lock on the door and limped heavily over to the sink counter. Frantically rifling through the pockets of his leather jacket, he produced a syringe, a tourniquet, an alcohol swab, and a half-empty vial of morphine. He clumsily shed his coat and rolled up the sleeve of his navy blue button-up shirt. Grabbing the tourniquet he quickly tied it off just above his elbow. With trembling hands he impatiently cleansed the area with the alcohol swab then filled the syringe, watching anxiously. He then gently slid the needle into his vein, savoring the stinging pain that accompanied it. Pulling the plunger back he watched with fascination as his blood slowly mingled with the morphine before depressing the plunger, releasing sweet relief into his bloodstream. He released the tourniquet and stumbled back against the wall as the rush hit him, his eyes rolling back in his head as the drug coursed through his veins. He was torn from his drug-induced reverie by a loud knock on the bathroom door.

" Hey man! I gotta drain the lizard. Open up!" slurred the voice on the other side of the door.

"Uh….hold on, man," House yelled as he grabbed the tourniquet, syringe, and alcohol swab and stuffed them deep in the garbage can. Palming the vial of morphine, he slid it back in the pocket of his leather jacket before donning the coat and releasing the lock on the door. He swung the door open and was greeted by what appeared to be a drunken frat kid.

"Sorry, man. I was busy getting a hummer from your girlfriend. She could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch, " House smirked as he ambled stiffly past Frat Boy, who was obviously too drunk or too stupid to realize he'd just been insulted.

Cameron awoke on the couch to the shrill ringing of her cell phone. Groping for the phone on her coffee table, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and looked at the caller I.D..

House. Fuck.

Glancing up at the clock on the wall, she rolled her eyes and answered.

"What do you want, House? It's one o'clock in the damn morning!"

"Uh…hi. Is this…uh…Cameron?"

'That's not House' she thought as she sat up straighter. "Who is this?"

"Uh…hi. This is Andy. I'm the bartender down at O'Doherty's Irish Pub off Chatham Street. I've got your friend House here and he's pretty loaded. I told him he's gotta go and he asked me to give you a call to come get him."

God.Damn.Him.

With an aggravated sigh she reluctantly agreed, making a mental note of the directions to the pub before angrily hanging up. Grabbing her keys she stormed out the door.

Selfish son of a bitch.

Twenty minutes later she pulled up to the curb in front of the pub and went inside, looking around impatiently for House. She found him slumped pathetically over a table in a booth by the bar. Her anger doubled in intensity as House opened one eye and a devious grin graced his lips.

"You're here," he said softly.

" Yes, and you are drunk. Time to go home," she spat angrily as she grabbed his cane and pulled on his arm, willing him to stand up so they could leave. House reluctantly stood up, swaying as he struggled to regain his balance. Cameron planted her hands on his chest in an attempt to steady him.

"Ooh. Trying to cop a feel, Dr. Cameron?" House slurred, wagging his eyebrows for the full effect.

For a moment she was lost in the seductive glare in his blue eyes before shaking her head, beyond annoyed.

"Whatever, House. I wanna go home. Move it," she replied as she handed him his cane and gently pushed him in the direction of the door, holding on to his free arm to help keep him steady.

A downpour had started while they had still been in the pub, and Cameron could feel herself and House getting drenched as she struggled to help his large frame into the car without him falling over. Minutes later the soggy pair was pulling away from the curb and on their way to House's apartment. She glanced over at the dripping wet form of House and frowned when she noticed that his mood had changed as evidenced by the somber look on his face.

"House…are you okay?" she asked softly.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he answered her, a hint of bitterness lacing his words. "Yeah…I'm fine."

She glanced at him again, but he had turned to stare at the raindrops running down his window, indicating he was done talking.

The rest of the ride to his apartment was silent. By the time they arrived the rain had thankfully slowed down to a light drizzle as she opened the car door and helped House to his feet. Following close behind him, Cameron watched as House fumbled with his keys before finally opening the door and stumbling in, leaving the door open as a silent invitation for her to enter too. Bewildered, she entered the apartment and quietly shut the door behind her. She stood awkwardly by the door, shivering slightly from her wet clothes and the uneasy feeling that had taken up residence in the pit of her stomach.

She watched silently as House shuffled across the room, removing his leather jacket and dumping it on the couch before limping heavily to his mantelpiece to grab the bottle of Maker's Mark perched on the ledge.

" Want some?" he called out, swinging the bottle from his left hand.

" No thanks," Cameron muttered softly.

" Good…more for me," House replied before unscrewing the cap and taking a long pull off the bottle, wincing as it went down.

Cameron eyed him warily. "House-"

"You know," he began, cutting her off, "I should have been able to solve that case…to save that boy."

Cameron, who was ready to admonish him for drinking when he was already completely wasted, closed her mouth and stared at House with surprise marking her features. It wasn't everyday that House actually talked about his patients once the case was done with. She watched as he continued to speak, seemingly in his own little world.

"Six years old. The kid should be outside playing ball….making mud pies…blowing stuff up." He began to pace back and forth in front of his couch, just a few feet away from Cameron. "He shouldn't be laying on a slab in the fucking morgue."

"House…there wasn't enough time-"

"There was plenty of time! If I'd just been able to piece it together," he yelled as he stopped pacing and dropped his cane. He raised both his hands up and grasped his head, the bottle still dangling from his fingers. "If I could've just concentrated…focused on the symptoms, I could have figured it out."

His behavior unsettled Cameron even more. House was always ridiculously arrogant and confident regarding his abilities as a doctor. The doubt she was hearing in his voice was foreign to her ears.

" House, you're scaring me."

He looked up at her with a glare before releasing a deep chuckle.

"Ha! You're scared! The one thing in my life…the only thing I have left that I give a damn about is my work. And I can't even do that anymore! The pain…the pills…this damn useless leg!" he screamed as he struck his bad thigh with his fist.

"House, STOP!" Cameron cried out.

"I can't function with or without the drugs. I can't do anything anymore! What's left? Huh? What's fucking left?" he screamed before spinning around and throwing the bottle at the opposite wall, shards of glass and bourbon going in every direction.

Cameron shielded her face and body with her arms, crouching low to the ground to avoid the flying glass.

House stumbled slightly before falling to the floor drunkenly, landing on his left side.

After a few moments Cameron slowly rose and approached House cautiously as he rolled from his side to a sitting position. Kneeling down in front of him she went into doctor mode.

" Are you alright?" she asked softly, her eyes scanning his face and hands before grasping his left arm to inspect for any cuts from the glass. In the process of her inspection she moved his cuffed sleeve up. The purple, bruised track marks in the crook of his elbow stood out painfully from his pale skin; they told her all she needed to know and certainly explained his distant behavior as of late. She glanced up into his eyes, his shame and embarrassment evident as he averted her gaze. She looked back down at his arm, lightly running her fingers over the bruised skin.

"Oh House…" she said softly.

She looked back up to see him staring at her intently, an unfamiliar emotion in his deep blue eyes. Before she had a chance to decipher it he leaned forward and captured her lips with his own. Her expression went from one of confusion to one of shock, her eyes wide as House ran his tongue across her lips, begging for entrance. Cameron complied, the intensity of the kiss making all the thoughts that this was a bad idea in his state of mind disappear as her eyes fluttered shut. His hands came up to tangle in her damp hair as she returned to favor, running her fingers through the wet curls at the base of his skull.

Like a man possessed he pulled her towards his body as she straddled his legs. He kissed her ferociously as Cameron, lost in the feel of his kiss and his hands roaming her body, impatiently unbuttoned his damp shirt, pushing it from his shoulders and off his body. She ran her fingers down his chest and over his abdomen, savoring the feel of the tense muscles there. Next it was her turn as House tugged her pull-over blouse up and over her head, running his fingers slowly back down her sides. He moved his lips to her neck and a moan escaped Cameron's lips.

Her eyes rolled back in her head as she delighted in the feel of House's tongue tasting her skin. She wrapped her arms around him as he began to shake. His lips stilled on her neck and she began to wonder if he was having second thoughts about his actions. Before she could ask him what was wrong he began to sob uncontrollably, his arms tightening around her body as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

" House." Now he really was scaring her.

"I'm a fucking mess. What am I gonna do?" he muttered softly between sobs. " What am I gonna do?"

"It's okay, House. Shhh…" she said soothingly .

She sat there for what seemed like an eternity just holding him, rocking back and forth in an attempt to console him. He was admitting he was out of control. And she was damned if she was gonna let him self destruct.

The world had enough martyrs.