House could only watch in silence as Cameron's entire body shook with the gut wrenching sobs that were emanating from her slender frame. She had been crying like that for the past 15 minutes, although it seemed much longer, thought he with the bright eyes and shiny cane. For once he was not in the sanctuary that was his office, nor the sanctuary that was his piano bench at home. He was, ironically, in the one place where Cuddy always wanted him to be and could never find him. The clinic was eerily quiet for a Monday afternoon, and yet the silence that House found himself in was louder than any he had ever experienced before. Louder than the moments alone in his office: the hum of his computer or the dripping of the coffee pot in the next room were always present. Louder than the solitude he found in his own bedroom: the drone of the street and wind outside his windows was always there, just as he was about to fall into the abyss of sleep.

No. This silence was about as uncomfortable and unnerving as they come.

No words could comfort her.

No looks could calm her.

No gestures could reassure her.

Cameron was sitting with her back against the wall, although House doubted that she even knew, or cared about, where she was and how she was positioned. He had watched from behind the glass sliding doors, only a few moments ago, as Cuddy had come walking towards Cameron and stopped her in her tracks. Cameron had been on her way to House's office with some patient charts for him to sign, and, unbeknownst to her boss, was also on her way to tell him about their unborn child now growing in her safe, guarded womb. House had watched Cuddy's features as she spoke and instantly recognized the expression it bore. Her face had worn that same expression when she had told him about his leg all those years ago.

This can't be good, he had thought.

His gaze had darted over to Cameron's face and it was like watching a demolition take place. The bricks that were her outer shell started to fall one by one, leaving an exposed and raw inner layer, too thin to be of any use or protection. She had reeled backwards, causing the charts to drop around her, clattering to the polished floor and the papers scattering like leaves in the wind. Her body hit the wall and her knees gave out from beneath her, and she had sagged to the floor, though it could have been an ocean devouring her, she wouldn't have been able to tell the difference.

Cuddy, who only days before had been the bearer of such happy news, and was now the one to bring Cameron such dreadful news, thought that life really is a bitch sometimes. To be the messenger of such irony was almost painful. House could see Cuddy's hands trembling as she brought them up to her forehead and covered her eyes, like she couldn't handle seeing what her words had done to the younger female doctor over the past 72 hours. The edges around her started to crack like an old painting. House, in all his years of knowing Cuddy, had never seen her cry. Tough as nails, that one.

The few nurses at the duty station had stopped what they were doing, mesmerized and horrified at the scene in front of them. They could only stare, or bow their heads, in their own way of greiving. One or two sniffed louder than the others, but still not loud enough to break the silence House was experiencing.

Wilson, standing beside his best friend, could only watch in passiveness as well. The pair seemed anchored to the door frame, unable or unwilling perhaps, to make a move towards the unwelcome scene they were witnessing. Strength in numbers, he thought. Can't leave my best friend to suffer alone, he thought.

Their immaculate little world at PPTH had rudely and savagely been interrupted that quiet and bright afternoon by the news that one of their most respected doctors, along with their most maverick doctor, had been kil-

House woke up with a start and sat straight up in his bed. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead and covered his palms. The sheet was in a tangle around his legs, evidence of restlessness during the night. His heart was hammering in his chest as the images of Cameron and Cuddy and Wilson and nurses and papers crowded his mind's eye. He opened his eyes to look around him and to try to rid himself of those terrifying pictures. He saw the neon green flash from the alarm clock, and the greyness as his eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the blinds. He turned on the bedside lamp and saw his bottle of vicodin on the edge of the table. He took two pills from the bottle and swallowed, hoping the relief would come just a little faster this time. But it never did. At least that let him know he wasn't still dreaming.

More like a nightmare. Where did that come from? he wondered aloud, to no one but himself. He looked at the clock again. It read 5:35 am. He decided to shower and go to work; too scared to fall back asleep incase the dream started again. Though he would never admit that to anyone. Ha. He arrived at work, 6:30am on the dot. After stowing his bag in his office, he wandered the hallways of the hospital, trying to clear his head. He glanced at the clock on the wall of the clinic, 8:05am.

Cameron will be here by now, and as if on cue, he suddenly spotted her, carrying charts in her arms, chatting to the nurses at the duty station. He was about to approach her when he sensed someone else appear. Well, if it isn't the devil in a blue dress, he thought, as Cuddy rounded the corner and headed for Cameron's direction. His heart dropped as he suddenly recognized the scene in front of him.

"No!" he yelled, rushing as fast as he could towards the two women. Cuddy stopped in mid sentence and both her and Cameron looked at House, who was coming towards them with the force and fury of a gale wind.

"No!" he screamed again. "It's not happening to me!"

"What isn't happening, House? What's wrong?" Wilson asked with concern, having heard the commotion as he stepped through the doorway of the clinic. Now the area was silent once again, all eyes were turned on the maverick doctor. Cameron looked particularily interested and moved towards him slowly.

"You had another dream again, didn't you?" she asked, as she put the charts down on the counter top and took his hand. He looked down at her, at his Cameron, who was definitely not crumbling like dust around him. He nodded, almost imperceptibly. In silence she took his arm gently and led him back down the hallway towards the elevators. Once they had reached his office she sat him down on the couch and proceeded to make some coffee. She cam back and faced him.

"We're just going to take it one day at a time, remember?" He nodded again. "Yeah. One day." Cameron looked at the face of her lover, trying to memorize his features down to the last detail. He had been having dreams, pseudo nightmares like this, ever since she told him she was pregnant. She understood the magnitude of the news for House; ever since his leg and Stacey, he had not been sure of any romantic relationships anymore, let alone having a family of his own. She had fears too, but she wasn't worried about these dreams so much as she was worried about him. He was afraid of losing her and the baby, of losing his carefully rebuilt reality. He felt things so deeply; Wilson had warned her about that, on the day of their first date. She could only hope that the dreams would subside once the baby was born. Their baby.

She took his hands in her own and said, "it'll be alright. We'll be alright."

It was moments like these that were only privy to Cameron. House's tough guy exterior would melt just a little, its facade would crack the tiniest bit. But Cameron was there, her remedy was always there to stop the cracks from bleeding. He squeezed her hands, and smiled. "I know," he said, as he got up and walked over to the whiteboard. The silence of the office was not as thick as he had dreamt; the marker in his hand made squeaky noises and the coffee pot was gurgling.

I know, he thought to himself.