A/N- hello lovely readers! I just wanted to make a quick note that this story does contain mention and contain the aftermath of rape. Please read with your own caution.

Vicodin. Scotch. That damn cane. All three sitting on the coffee tablein front of the couch, where he lounged. It was Friday night and he, as usual, had no plans for the weekend except scotch and reruns of terrible shows.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to make him appropriately miserable.

It wasn't surprising or lonely anymore, it was just life. He did what he always did. Routine was comforting, to an extent, but he wouldn't mind change.

Then something did change.

A knock on the door. Three taps, light enough to make him question wether or not they really existed.

He choose imaginary and tried to focus on the TV again, but the next three taps were most definitely real.

He grabs his cane off the table an limps over to the door. He peeks through the glass, and pulls away quickly, as if she could see him through the tiny hole. Deep breaths pull in and out of him, and he unlocks the bolt and grabs the handle in one easy movement. And then she is there, really in front of him. She looks different without her white coat. She's not even wearing normal work clothes like she would wear under her coat. She has on a red dress, tighter than skin, that barely stretches past her thigh. A piece of black fabric is draped unceremoniously over her shoulders, and her brown hair spills over it. His gaze falls over her body, from her red-painted toes peeking though her heels, up her muscular thighs, to the tops of her breasts practically jumping out of her low-cut dress.

"I don't remember calling a hooker." He snaps sarcastically, unsure about why she's here.

"I...um, sorry." She says, turning around. She can only take a single, wobbly, step before regrets his words.

"Cameron!" House calls. "Wait."

Her eyes meet his, waiting for more.

"Come in." He decides this in a second, not even really sure why.

She steps in shyly, and he analyzes her for a minute. Not her body this time: her expression. Her eyes are puffy, mascara smudged, she smells like vodka.

"What happened?" He asks, sitting on the couch and motioning for her to join him. She does, hesitating her words.

He doesn't expect her to cry, but she does. She buries her face in her hands, muttering something. All he catches is "maybe I deserved it."

It hits him that something must've happened, something serious and hurtful. To Cameron. The girl who, no matter what, would always care about him even if he never showed that he cared back.

Which he did.

It's been forever since another person has needed his comfort. He is hesitant to do it, but she's so soft, he had to. His arms wrap around her shoulders, and he pulls her face into his chest. He can smell the perfume and alcohol on her.

"Are you hurt?" He whispers into her hair, and he's sure that he felt her nod.

She pulls her face back, her skin blotchy. "I... He's... From the hospital. A nurse, in radiology. He asked me to dinner, and I... Haven't had a date since... You." Words come out in little phrases rather than sentences. House starts stroking her back, trying to keep her calm, and waits to see if she'll continue.

"I couldn't drive, not after the drinks I had, so he asked if I wanted to go back to his apartment and relax for a few hours." A fresh round of tears fall from her face. "But that's not what he did."

House bites his lip, trying not to scream. Her pain hurt him and angered him and made him love her more.

"I walked here after." She says, shaking a little. The pain in her voice was killing him, and making him wish for more Vicodin.

"You should go to the hospital." He says after a few moments of silence.

"No...no." Cameron says weekly, falling into his chest again.

"House... Please."

He isn't sure what do to. House can't make her go if she doesn't want to. But he couldn't let that nurse can't get away with it. No one hurts Cameron like that and gets away with it.

House isn't sure why he's become suddenly protective of Cameron. He's thought about her in the past as a love interest. He dismissed he thought because he didn't feel the same way about her and he had about Stacy. But, as he realized now, maybe there is more than one type of love.

Either way, he had to do something.

"Stay here." He whispers, grabbing a blanket off the couch and draping it over her legs to keep her warm.

She whimpers a little as he moves away, so he adds "I'll be right back." She settles into the armrest and closes her eyes.

He walks to the kitchen scans through the cupboards quickly. He doesn't have much, but he decides the lonely bag of microwave popcorn will do. He starts popping it, and grabs his cell phone off the counter.

It rings three, four, five times, and then her voice a moans a sleepy "hello?"

"Cuddy." He says. "I need a favor."

"House, I'm not going to lie to the parents so you can do the test, okay? It's just not..."

"It's not really for me." He interrupts. "And it's not about the patient."

"Then...what?" Cuddy replies, and he can hear her pull back the blankets and pad over to the light switch, flipping it on.

"Cameron went out with a nurse, from radiology." He starts, and he can hear her breathing softly at the other end of the line.

"He... Hurt her."

Neither of them say anything for a moment.

"Where is Cameron?" Cuddy asks, concerned.

"She's here. On my couch." The microwave dings and he takes it out, bringing the snack to Cameron. She looks at him with those liquid eyes and eats slowly. House returns to the kitchen.

"You should bring her in." Cuddy says, "they can check her and get evidence. Make sure that he's prosecuted."

"I wanted to, but..." His fingers rub his forehead, "she won't go."

Cuddy says one last thing before hanging up. "I'll grab a kit and be right over."

House returns to the couch after the call. She eats popcorn one piece at a time, and he joins her until the bag is gone.

"Thank you." She whispers, setting the empty bag on the coffee table next to his cane.

"Cuddy is coming over." He replies. "She's going to help. I hope... That's okay."

Cameron nods, wrapping her arms around his waist while pushing him back a little. He finds himself laying on his back, with Cameron half on top of him, her head resting on his chest. His only choice is to wrap his arms around her back.

They both lose track of time, warm from human contact, so the sharp knock surprises them both.

Cuddy doesn't wait for them to get up, just opens the door once they've had a reasonable amount of warning. She's carrying several bags- some plastic and fresh from the store, and others obviously packed from home. She sees Cameron on House, and House sees her messy bedhead and what she gave up to be there.

Cameron sits up and House is able to limp over to his boss and - dare he say it?- friend.

"Sorry it took me so long. I got the kit, but I also got a few things to help comfort her."

House nods, not needing to say anything. Cuddy could sense the heartache he was feeling for Cameron.

Cuddy sits on the couch beside Cameron who is wrapped in a blanket and shivering.

"I'm going to examine you." Cuddy says in a soft voice. It occurs to House that, on some level, this is Cuddy playing Mom, like she's always wanted to be.

"If at any point you feel uncomfortable with anything, let me know. I can't make you do this, Allison, but it will help you."

Cameron nods, and Cuddy lays a few things out, prepping for the exam.

Cameron turns around and sees House, leaning against the wall. When their eyes meet, he slowly walks over to her.

"What is it?" He says, in the softest, most caring, voice she's ever heard from him. One hand carefully strokes her hair, and she's okay with it because she is okay with him, and that is all there is to it.

"Will you play for me?" she asks, motioning over to the piano.

He nods, and Cuddy starts the examination. He pretends it's not real as his fingers dance over black-and-white keys. He plays slow, soft songs to keep her calm as Cuddy scours her looking for evidence.

He only turns around once, just once, and the bruises on her thighs make him feel like he can't breathe.

So he turns back around and focuses on the music.