It was already past 9 when she rolled into the E.R. on a gurney. She was bleeding profoundly, a large scar on her forehead dripping, bits of glass poking through her skin all over her body, and the shape of a steering wheel engrave into her chest. She had a broken hand, and three broken ribs as far as they could tell but the damage would likely be more. Her heart rate was fluctuating, high to low and vice versa even without any sort of medication, and she was hypoxic due to her right lung collapsing. Fortunately, the crash happened just two blocks away from Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, had it been further away she could have suffocated to death, or bled to death. The latter was still a possibility as it was likely she would have some internal bleeding.

The gurney rushed into the O.R., a multitude of surgeons in green robes and mask surrounding her, hooking her up to various machines and shouting medical jargon back and forth.

"Her systolics' in the 80s and dropping, fast...she has multiple system failure...acute myocardial infarction," multiple surgeons shouted, all trying to fix one problem without interfering with the fixing of another problem. It was found that she had a heart attack, liver and kidney failure, a collapsed lung, seven broken ribs, a broken hand, and internal bleeding. The surgery lasted for multiple hours, and did not go smooth. She flatlined twice and had to be resurrected with paddles, the first time gone for only thirty seconds, the second time lasting three and a half minutes, meaning that brain damage was certainly a possibility. Oddly, after the surgery it was found that she had a fever of 102.3, meaning that is was possible she had an pre-existing underlying condition, disqualifying her from getting a new heart or liver, both of which she clearly needed in her state.

It was 4:30 in the morning when House got the call, just twenty minutes after the surgery. The first time, he didn't wake up fast enough to answer. The second time he reached for it half awake just before it would have stopped. He put it to his ear with his eyes still closed.

"Hello," he yawned as he spoke.

"We've got a patient for you in the O.R., she's stable f-" Cuddy began.

"Well, if she's stable I'll be right in." House responded sarcastically. He was already awake, so he reached over and turned on the light, then reached for his vicodin bottle, popping two into his mouth and swallowing them dry.

"House...it's Cameron."

House paused. He did not expect that. What was she doing in the O.R.? What happened? Was it serious? Questions raced through his head all at once. He took of deep breath.

"I'll be right in," He said as he put the phone down slowly, still in deep thought.

House was at the hospital within fifteen minutes. It would usually take up to thirty, but he floored his motorcycle and happened to not run into any cops, or much traffic. The streets were so empty that he ran two red lights going 65 miles per hour and nobody was around to see it.

He limped into the front door, walking into Cuddy's office via the waiting room of the clinic. He saw Cuddy sitting in her office looking over a file, presumably Cameron's. He rushed in the door very quickly, startling Cuddy he jumped up out of her seat before realizing it was House and taking a deep breath to relax. House didn't notice this or was too busy thinking about Cameron to care.

"What happened?" He asked, in a voice closer to concern that Cuddy had ever heard him use.

"She got into a car crash as she was driving home from the hospital," Cuddy began, "she has multiple system failure. She needs a new heart and a new liver."

"Is she on the list?" House interrupted, a little too quick for him to hide his concern like he would usually do in this type of situation. Cuddy halted for a brief second, a little taken back by House's unusual concern.

"She can't be." Cuddy began. House looked confused. "The surgeons found that she has a fever of 102.3. She has an underlying pre-existing condition, she would be disqualified from receiving either organ."

"Oh, god…" House whispered just low enough so that Cuddy couldn't hear it.

"I'm sorry, House."

"No, it's fine, she'll be fine, did you call Foreman and Chase?"

"They're coming in, now, look, House if you need anything-"

"I'm fine." He reassured her, also trying to reassure himself. He sighed. "When they get here, just tell them to meet me in my office." And with that, he limped out of Cuddy's office faster than she could reply to him. She sat in her office worrying for him, knowing that he was lying when he said he was fine, as usual.

House sat in his office, tossing his over sized tennis ball back in forth while deep in thought, waiting for Foreman and Chase to arrive. He thought about Cameron. Not her illness, but her as a person and his and her relationship. It was weird, but in a way he liked that. There always something about her that he liked, maybe just the fact that she was someone who liked him unquestionably. Someone who liked him for him, who didn't want him to change but only wanted to help him. Not even Wilson thought like that, nor Stacey or Cuddy or anyone but his own mother.

He thought about the one time they tried dating, how awkward it was for him. He deliberately ruined it because he was scared. He was scared that it could lead somewhere, he was scared that in his own twisted his way he actually liked her and cared for her more than she could have imagined at that point. What if it had lead somewhere? He thought to himself multiple times, What would have happened? He always assumed that he wouldn't be able to fulfill her, to make her happy. He always assumed that she would eventually want him to change or that she would eventually need something more than he could offer her. After all, she was younger than him, attractive, nice...if she wanted she could have easily found a guy to fill House's shoes in that situation.

But what if he was wrong? What if it had worked out and he would have been happy? He never put too much thought into those questions, because he was so used to being depressed that the thought of being happy seemed like fiction to him, and because even if he ever was happy, what would that mean of him? Would he be a worse doctor, worse at the one thing he was good at? He always thought it wasn't worth the risk, but now with Cameron on the brink of death he felt stupid. He felt like taking the risk, he felt like no matter what happened it was time for him to be happy, time for him to grow up. He was tired of being miserable, and he was starting to fear that if he couldn't save Cameron, then he had blown his last real chance at happiness.

Foreman and Chase arrived as House was still deep in thought. He didn't even hear them open the door.

"House, you okay?" Foreman asked, causing House to jump. After a second, he relaxed and took a deep breath.

"Yeah, I'm fine," House said, "Cuddy fill you in?" Foreman and Chase nodded. "Then what's the differential diagnosis for fever?"

"There are about a million things," Foreman started.

"Then it should be pretty easy to pick one." House retorted.

"Most likely candidate is some kind of infection, we should start her broad spectrum antibiotics," Chase said.

"Good, what else?"

"House, we can't diagnose something with just a fever."

"Oh, I thought she was sick, but if there's nothing to diagnose then we should put her on the transplant list." House began. He sighed, knowing that Foreman was right. "Alright, fine, start her on the antibiotics and hope it clears it up, you notice anything else, I'll be up here."

Foreman and Chase walked out of the door and headed for Cameron's room as House stayed inside hoping that the antibiotics would work in time for her to get a new heart and liver and be fine. Something told him, however, that it wasn't going to work. He just hoped that he could diagnose and treat it in time for her to survive.