A/N: Just a drabble. Let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: Don't own House. Obviously.

Words

Cameron slipped into her seat, followed by the curious stares of her colleagues. Being late was not a regular occurrence for the punctual immunologist, unlike House, who most likely wouldn't even be on time for his own funeral.

"Care to share your reason for tardiness with the class?" House quipped.

"No, not really," Cameron replied coolly. "But you can feel free to make your assumptions."

Foreman and Chase exchanged a look. There was something different in her voice, nothing like the woman they were used to working with.

Cameron saw the look. She bit her tongue despite the urge to tell them exactly what she knew they wanted to hear. But she would not tell them that she was no different than she had been the day before. It would be a complete lie, and she had gone to great lengths to avoid deceit with anyone.

There was another thing she had gone to great lengths to avoid: feelings for House. She had learned early on that they would more hurt than anything, but, the last night, she had slipped up. They had caught up with her and maimed her beyond recognition.

The words had sounded so strange as she confessed them in the dim office under the influence of caffeine and emotion. "I love you, House."

He had, of course, been his usual self. She left, nearly in tears. At home, she had cried herself to sleep, forgetting to set her alarm in the midst of the crippling angst.

Now, as she was about to go off and perform her duties, House opened his mouth and the oddest words slipped between his lips. "I'm sorry."

But not the four words she had wanted.

She turned away from his sincere face. How could he say he was sorry? Didn't he know that it didn't solve a thing? She didn't take the moment to realize that those words rarely graced House's lips.

Later that day, as she held a dying woman in her arms, Cameron thought of House's words. All of them: the cruel, the kind, the sarcastic and biting.

The woman coughed and sputtered out her last words, "Love him, dear, no matter what. I didn't and look where I am." Then the woman's breathing became shallow for a minute, then stopped altogether.

Cameron allowed the nurses to take the woman away, down to the morgue. Then someone who cared would pay for her to be shoved in a box, six-feet below the surface, burying all the woman's secrets and wisdom with her.

But after a week, no one came forward. "She was a recluse," explained a nurse. "Lived alone, no children, no friends, no husband. Worked most of her life. It's a shame for anyone to die alone like that."

Cameron's body then moved her to House's office once more. "I don't want to end up like that woman," she began. "I don't want you to, either. Now, I'm telling you again. I love you. I don't know if you think it counts for anything, or if you feel something too, but I'm telling you. I'm telling you and I want you to know that I'm not going to leave until you make me."

House blinked up at her from his chair. They stared at each other for a minute before Cameron turned away.

"Wait." House's voice caught in his throat.

Cameron turned to face him. He didn't say anything else as he took her hand and kissed her. He didn't have to. Words would be useless. There were no words either of them could find anymore to say just how they felt.