Hello, readers! I am a longtime fanfiction reader but until now never tried my hand at writing. This is my first fanfiction story and I am very excited to share it! I am a fan of the House/Cameron pairing, so if that is not your thing, turn back now.

This is an House/Cameron baby!fic that is quite angsty but that won't always be the case.

Reviews with comments, questions or constructive criticism are welcome and greatly appreciated. However, flaming and comments that bash the House/Cameron pairing will not be tolerated. If you do not like this pairing, then please do not waste my time and yours by reading and leaving angry comments.

Instability

Chapter 1

You look toward the operating room doors and the sounds of the doctor shouting, monitors beeping, and you yelling are still ringing in your ears. You feel like you're about to go into shock, too. You can't move and you feel rooted to the floor. You want to know what's going on with your wife, you want to be there, with her, with Allison.

And then you remember your daughter is struggling herself in the NICU down the hall, having been whisked away from you n a whirlwind of motion. You want to be with her, too…to see her and touch her and hold her and know she's okay.

Yet at the same time, you can't abandon your wife. Your wife who continued to bleed out even as you were hastily guided out of the OR by one of the nurses, trying to fight your way back in as Wilson grabbed your arm and pulled you away.

"House, you need to let them work on Allison. You can't be in there right now, there's nothing you can do. Come on, you need to sit down," he said firmly as he gripped your shoulders and looked you in the eye, trying to get you to accept the reality of the situation.

And so you stand still, staring straight ahead. You can't move, your mind and body frozen and numb. You don't know where you should be right now…with your daughter fighting the battles of prematurity or close to Allison in case things get worse than they already are.

You don't know how you're supposed to decide who needs you more right now. They both need you and you don't want to leave either of them. So you just keep standing and staring, hoping someone else will make the decision for you.

Because you don't think you could live with yourself if you lost one of your girls while you were with the other.

But suddenly it doesn't matter anymore because your body makes a decision for you, as your weary legs wobble and buckle beneath you. Wilson is on the ground by your side in an instant, gripping you by the shoulders and trying to help you back up. He is moving dead weight because you are of no help to him, as you continue staring straight ahead, limp and exhausted.

You have no idea how you got to the couch that sits along the hallway and you don't really care. You don't care who's around you or who saw you fall on your ass. You don't even care when you feel wetness around your eyes, or when it begins to trickle down your cheeks. You don't even realize you're crying until the sensation of Wilson's arm wrapping around your shoulders snaps you out of this thick fog.

And then you lose it.

You turn your head and bury it in the crook of Wilson's neck and close your eyes, hiccupping and weeping and, for once, not giving a damn about showing your emotions or upholding your stoic image. As your sobs turn into sniffles, you register Wilson's hand gently moving up and down your back. Then you hear his soft, soothing cancer voice in your ear and for once you are actually grateful to hear it.

"House? Why don't we go down to the NICU and see the baby?"

Your eyes are still closed as you shake your head against his neck.

"House, they're doing everything they can for Allison, and there's nothing we can do here."

You don't respond, so he continues.

"Your daughter needs you, too. You can't be with Allison right now, but you can be with her. You can be with your daughter."

Your daughter.

Your daughter who shouldn't have even been here for another 7 weeks. Your daughter who is down the hall, all alone in her isolette having been hastily ripped from the comfort of her mother just minutes ago.

You pick your head up from Wilson's shoulder and give a barely perceptible nod as you gaze toward the floor. Wilson's hand comes into your field of vision and you reluctantly, but gratefully reach out to accept it. He hands you your cane and close your eyes for a moment before you move any further.

You glance toward your right as you stare in the direction of the OR where your wife is on an operating table, covered in blood and being stitched together in an attempt to stop the hemorrhage.

You take a deep breath and let out a shaky, exhausted sigh. You turn your head back toward Wilson and quietly nod.

With your best friend at your side, you begin the journey down the long hallway to go see your daughter.

Please read and review. I thrive off of comments and they keep me motivated to continue writing!

-Chicklett