Disclaimer: I do not own House.

Somewhere in the distance a vacuum cleaner was running. Raindrops rattled against the windows and the occasional sound of foot steps running along the sidewalk or cars driving through puddles of water were the only noises except for the vacuum cleaner in the neighboring apartment. Everything in the apartment was perfectly still and silent – no music that was playing, no feet that were shuffling around, no cane that thudded against the floor. Old newspapers lay strewn across the coffee table, and the odd book had been thrown on the floor. It seemed the apartment's usually meticulous owner had packed his things and gone elsewhere, but there was a piercing smell of whiskey that filled the room and contradicted this. Had anyone been there, they would have heard a sharp snore coming from inside door that was shut tight. Had that anyone opened the door they would find the bedroom of the apartment. On the bed they would have found what appeared to be a lump which, except for the occasional snore, would have appeared very lifeless. They would also have found the bed side table to be covered in pills and papers. In the corner they would have seen a cane made out of dark brown wood, leaning against the wall.

If anyone had been there, they would have found the apartment of a sleeping Greg House.

The alarm clock made a load, buzzing noise. House groaned and hit the snooze button. His head pained him with every little movement he made, and when he opened his eyes the light in the room seemed overwhelming. He either had a migraine or a hangover - the latter more likely than the first. The vacuum cleaner stopped, and House was left with only the sound of the drizzling rain.

"Coffee…" he mumbled and sat up, much too quickly. A handful of Vicodin later he felt slightly invigorated and limped over to get his cane. When he opened the door of his bedroom the smell of stale alcohol and coffee hit him. He coughed and made his way to the kitchen. The mess he had made the previous night was terrible, but he couldn't face cleaning it up. It would be better to hire someone, he concluded. In the kitchen he fumbled with the coffee filter, got the machine going and shoved some dirty dishes and old whiskey bottles into the sink. He looked around. Not too bad, he told himself. At least I remember it. The phone rang, but he let the machine get it. It was really too early to be answering the phone.

"It's Wilson," Wilson said after the beep. House rolled his eyes. "Cuddy wanted me to let you know that you're late, and that if you don't get your ass over here there would be serious repercussions." House shook his head and checked the time. "House, will you pick up? Or else I'm coming over to see if you're alive." House hurried over to the phone.

"I'm alive," he said into the receiver. "Tell Cuddy this ass is taking a shower."

"Now, there's an image," Wilson said. "Enjoy your shower."

"Have fun telling Cuddy I'm going to be more late than I already am," House said and hung up. He took his time drinking his coffee, and then got in the shower. The water was steaming hot, and he let it flow all over his body, relaxing his muscles and easing his headache a little bit. He closed his eyes and let his hands stroke his face and massage his temples. Forgetting about time and where he was, he let his thoughts run wild for a moment. The phone rang again and pulled him out of his daydreams and back into reality. He didn't even bother listening to the message left, since he had a feeling it was Wilson or Cuddy, telling him to hurry up. He got dressed - a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a jacket - and made his way to Princeton Plainsboro for another working day.

Cameron, Chase and Foreman were sitting around the table in the conference room. House stopped at the door and studied them from behind the glass. Cameron was laughing at something Chase had said, and Foreman was shaking his head in what House could only guess was disapproval. Both Chase and Foreman were sitting with their backs turned towards him, but he could see Cameron's face very clearly. He studied her features carefully, mentally stroking her cheek, running his fingers through her hair, gazing deeply into her eyes. This was not how he had planned to start the day, so he took a deep breath, regained his usual arrogant attitude and walked through the door.

"Good morning," Cameron greeted him, still smiling and her brown eyes directed towards House. He got lost in his own thoughts again, but quickly snapped out of it.

"I assume you were laughing at something work-related, or were the three of you just playing games?" he said and opened the door to his own office. He could almost hear Foreman sigh and shake his head, and he could see the look on Chase's face, and he could sense Cameron's foot steps before he heard them. She opened the door and sat down in front of his desk. House was busy with his backpack, but he eventually limped over and sat down behind the desk. Cameron looked at him, and he looked away almost immediately.

"You were late today," she said, finally breaking the silence.

"Well, thank you, Captain Obvious," House said. Being sarcastic, arrogant and cold was the only way he could treat people, it was the only way he knew how to. Cameron looked down and smiled.

"You look tired," she said. "And hung over."

"I didn't sleep well."

"You've been drinking."

"Is that a problem?"

"Yes."

None of them said anything for a while. He knew one of Cameron's enervating speeches about right and wrong was coming, but in some way he didn't dread it as much as he usually did.

"You've been drinking a lot lately," she said. "I've noticed."

"Huh," House said and suddenly became very interested in his fingernails.

"Why?"

"Even if I told you the truth, you wouldn't believe me."

"You don't know that."

"Actually, I do know that."

Cameron frowned slightly and bit her lip.

"I worry about you, you know," she said.

"You worry about everyone," House said and waved his hand dismissively.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Cameron said quietly. "I don't worry about everyone like I worry about you." She got up and started to leave, but she let her hand rest on the door handle. "I'm here, if you want to talk about it." House swallowed and nodded, still overly interested in his fingernails. The door closed and Cameron went to sit down with Foreman and Chase again.

House sighed and leaned his head in his hands. This was really not how he'd planned to start the day.