Disclaimer: Nope, House I own not.

Poem - Tell me everything is fine.Lies are always better than truth. Tell me there's a reason for falling apart. We both know the fault is mine. Tell me I'm forced to fight it out. Give me hope for something constant. Tell me pain is fleeting. Enough burdens are on my shoulders. Tell me somewhere along the way. Say anything to make me forget. Tell me you're not afraid. Keep your fears to your lonely self. Tell me when I don't want to hear. We've gone through this before. Tell me nothing stays the same. Reality realities only matter. Tell me we can't face our destiny. I might not like what I see. Tell me you won't let go now. I've been trying so hard to stay. Tell me we won't break. We've been broken so much before.

It never changes to stop

The touch of evening comes with gentle fingers and soft colors. She stands, hands in trouser pockets, waiting for something to change. This is her last day as House's fellow; it should mean something. Instead, the sun keeps lowering, dark is rising, and she feels nothing different.

It's been a long five years trying to learn everything from the self-proclaimed master. It's been a short two years trying to teach him to love again. Now, both are no longer students, a relief. Change is good however, and this time she's finally ready for it.

He knows she'll be just down the hall, working under Foreman for a few more years until the present Head of Immunology retires. He's already counted the steps to her new office, planning a sort of risqué christening. Seeing her standing alone in the conference room, nearly takes his breath away. It's cheesy to admit, but she's the most beautiful thing in the world.

"Memorizing the view?"

She turns, slightly gasping because she's lost herself so deeply in her mind. Taking a few slow steps, she meets him in the middle of the room with hands on hips.

"I thought you were getting dinner?"

"I thought that I thought I was too, but then I thought that all this thinking is such a killjoy. So, instead I got this."

The small rectangular box is one she's seen before in the gift store. Filled with eight pieces of chocolate, it's barely a snack, but from him, she doesn't mind. It's a small gesture that lifts her heart.

"Oh, this so does not get you off the hook. I'm starving."

"Don't worry. We can get some on the way out, Allison."

"Using my name doesn't get you any points," she says as she lets her fingers slightly tug on the pockets of his blazer so no space is left between them.

"House?"

"Mhhhmm?"

She brings her head up, locking on his stare, and let's her voice continue in such a soft whisper that even she isn't sure she's said anything. "I can do this."

The statement sounds like a question to his ears. Carefully, he brushes her bangs out of her eyes and feels her capture his hand. She shouldn't have to ask. She's relying too much on his opinion, and it's time for that to stop. But he suddenly finds himself thinking before saying anything.

"I know."

"I'm telling you, they're both worthless. I'd never thought I'd live to see the day when Chase was the best at anything."

"What are you doing?"

"Checking my pulse. Still alive."

Wilson shakes his head. "You'll get used to them eventually."

"Or I could fire them and not have to worry."

"Oh no, I am not about to go through interviews again…."

He hears something about 'interviews' and 'worthless' along with 'disaster' coming from Wilson's mouth. As soon as he spots Cameron in the tray line, everything begins to slow. An E.R. nurse runs into the cafeteria, searching above heads before seemingly finding the target. He runs to her, placing a hand on her arm and leaning in close to her ear. Lines become crisp. Sounds fade into mumbles and hums. For just a passing beat, he thinks he can hear the words on the man's lips before the world decides to keep moving.

Feet of lead don't let her get anywhere. Muted sounds don't make it easier to speak. Totaled cars don't keep family safe.

She knows she's running before the nurse can even stop explaining what's happened. The burning in her chest is just from the exertion of muscles, not from fear or panic.

They won't allow her into the O.R., and even though she knows why, it doesn't ease her dread. Arms grasp her shoulders, deeply and forcefully, but still barely able to keep her away. Beyond those doors is her goal and she'll be damned if they stop her.

In all of five years, he's never seen her so hurt. Not with any case, not when her mother died, when Stacy came back, or even when he'd chosen drugs over her. The two male nurses restrain her with brute strength, and still without his cane, he's making good time.

Even when he's standing right in front of her, she doesn't see him. It's only when his hands cup her face and he orders her to look at him that she remembers who he is to her.

That's when she breaks more than ever before. She clings to his body, adrenalin wasting to strips of nothing, oblivious to the disappearance of his cane and the people around them. Holding on tightly, she wills the tears to stay hidden because part of her can't accept the news.

"What's wrong, Cameron?"

She can't find the words to say anything and instead, buries her head in the crook of his neck, needing any comfort he can give.

"Cameron? Allison!"

It's all he can do to not shake her even as the death grip she has on him won't allow it.

Hoarsely, she whispers, "Greg," against his neck, fighting for the last bit of control within herself.

"Tell me what happened."

"My brother, my brother, House."

A/N: Well, I wasn't sure this sequel was gonna happen but my other story isn't working. And I'm kinda switching things up a bit. There is a full poem...but you'll only get it in pieces...so no hints! lol. Hopefully, I can live up to ABP. Anyways, thanks guys.