DISCLAIMER: House is not mine.

AN. Ok, so the idea for this story came from an episode of "MAD ABOUT YOU". Its not exactly the same, I changed a bit. I just liked the idea and thought it would fit Hameron. BTW, how much does it suck about Jennifer Morrison leaving HOUSE? Sorry, how much does it suck she got written out of HOUSE? I'm seriously considering not watching it anymore once she leaves... that being said, I probably will. But it won't be the same. Cameron was the only character I could relate to. And if you have to write a character out, why do you write out one of the few female characters in the show? Sorry, this is my rant. Read and review!

Also thanks to everyone who commented on my AN for the last story I posted. It meant a lot to me.

PS. This is my first story from Cameron's POV. Enjoy.

Prologue:

I couldn't help but smile as I stood in my kitchen and poured my morning cup of coffee. Although the paperwork had been finalised on Friday, and it was now Monday, there were still moments I was in disbelief. I had bought a house, I was now a home owner!

This was something I've been dreaming about... since I moved out of my parents Chicago home and had to start paying rent. I've had some dodgy landlords over the years, like the one in Arizona when I was an intern at the Mayo Clinic. My landlord would conduct random inspections at least twice a month, and god forbid there was a speck of dirt anywhere, or the apartment was anything less than spotless!

It was earlier this year when I realised that I was turning thirty. Now, I don't mind that I'm now thirty; hopefully it will be better than my twenties. Not that my twenties were awful... except for you know, getting married, widowed, having a HIV scare, a one night stand with a co-worker whilst high on meth, and falling in love with my ass of a boss. The obvious.

Anyway, I realised that I had always expected to be married, with a family and be financially secure enough to own my own home by this important milestone. Then I reasoned that just because I don't have anything else on my list doesn't mean I couldn't at least own that home. So, as of Friday, I, Dr. Allison Cameron am the proud owner of a gorgeous three-bedroom home in Plainsboro, New Jersey. I probably don't need three bedrooms, but I'm not giving up on the other items on my list.

So, for now, those other two bedrooms will be a spare room and a study. I spent my weekend moving the contents of my apartment, and various items I've collected over the past thirty years and been holding in a Trenton storage unit for the past three years. The only thing left to do is paint the walls. (The entire house is presently painted a horrible shade of yellow.)

Thankfully, that doesn't rely on my skills, I've hired painters to do that; actually, they're already here. Mid-way through a mouthful of coffee, I happened to catch a glimpse of the time and realised that I'm in danger of being late for work; and that's taking into account I've already arranged to go into work late so I can let the workers in and issue instructions. I threw my mug into the dishwasher and headed for the door, grabbing my coat and shoulder bag from the sofa.

"Dr. Cameron?"

I turned to face the foreman, Garry (is the head painter a foreman, or is that just for builders? If so, what's the painter version? Maybe it's just head painter?). Anyway, I was halfway out the door when he called out to me, but I patiently turned to face him.

"Yes?"

He held out a plastic bag to me, with a bunch of papers inside. "One of the guys found this under a loose floorboard in the bedroom."

"Oh." I took them, and not really sure what to do with them, threw them in my bag. "Ok, thanks. What time will you guys be done today?"

"We'll probably finish about four."

I nodded. "OK, fine. Uh, I'll try to be back by then, but if I get stuck at the hospital, you can lock up?"

"No worries, Dr. Cameron," Garry smiled and I smiled back at him and left, pulling the door shut behind me.