Disclaimer: Don't own House. Smeg. Any factual errors are accidental and apologised for in advance. Contains implied slashy House/Wilson, an evil Tritter (yeah, that's new) and ambiguous consent.

AN: Argh – apologies for the delay. I really did intend to update sooner, but it's been hectic with research stuff at uni… so I ended up rather slowly bringing this chapter together. note: even longer than either of the previous ones! Thanks again for all the feedback!! Feel free to keep it coming – it's inspiring :)

III: The Blatant Lie

Cameron looked up from the stack of folders when the glass door opened. Foreman and Chase followed suit, and all three laid eyes on the returning House.

She'd never seen him look so… shaken. She searched her mind for some other way to describe what she saw, because it was so foreign and somewhat disturbing, but she couldn't find one.

He was just shaken.

"Hey, how was-" Chase began, but House just looked at them all with a distracted gaze, his blue eyes seeming lighter and emptier than ever. He didn't even acknowledge that Chase had spoken, simply looked at them for a few seconds and then turned away.

They watched as House rested briefly on his cane while his other hand opened his office door, then he walked through and shut it behind him. Within a minute he had shut all the blinds and they couldn't see him anymore.

"What the hell?" Chase said, looking at Foreman and Cameron with a baffled expression. Cameron had to admit – it was weird. House was very rarely anything but arrogantly assured, and even more rarely devoid of an insult to fling at them.

"Do you think it has something to do with Wilson?" Cameron asked, feeling her forehead crease in a frown.

"Maybe Wilson's called it quits for good," Foreman shrugged. "Doesn't want anything to do with him anymore. I saw it coming."

"Wilson was the one who sold House out," she pointed out, frowning deeper.

"He did it 'cause House has a problem," Foreman said, looking at her as if she were the most oblivious person in the world. "Come on – you don't think you can pop that many pills a day and not have a problem?"

"He's in pain," she said stubbornly, glancing at Chase to see where he sat on this.

"Oh no, don't try and get me to take sides," he said quickly. He sighed. "Look… it's true. House has an issue with Vicodin. But… I don't think Wilson's motives were entirely pure, either. I mean, his assets were frozen…"

"That's right, Chase," Cameron said, shaking her head. "Sit on the fence."

Thump.

They all looked up in surprise at the sudden noise. It was muted, but clearly came from House's closed-off office.

"Do you think-" Foreman began.

Thump.

"What's wrong with him!" Chase moaned into his hands. "We're never gonna get through these folders if we keep waiting for House to help."

Cameron frowned again, even the prospect of undue wrinkles unable to stop the expression.

Thump.

"That's it," she said in exasperation, standing up. "I'm going to talk to him."

"Here," Foreman said, holding out the largest stack of manila folders. "Give him these on my behalf."

Cameron looked at him witheringly, but took them and walked towards House's dark office.

Thump.

"Good luck," Chase said. She glanced back and he saluted at her. She rolled her eyes – just how old was Chase? She couldn't believe they'd…

Not the point.

She'd just have to make House tell her what was wrong. Because something clearly had gone very badly.

Behind her, she heard the door open as Chase and Foreman left the room, off to find some better place to shelter if House decided to take his anger out on those in the near vicinity.

Cowards.

Cameron knocked slightly on the door.

Thump.

Well, that's as good an invitation as anything else House ever gives, she thought to herself, trying the handle. Slightly surprised, she found it was open. She carefully pushed the door open, blinking so her eyes could adjust to the sudden shift to darkness inside House's office.

"House?" she ventured, scanning the room. She spotted House sitting in his chair, feet resting on top of his shelf, holding that oversized red tennis ball (the obvious source of the thumps) in his hands.

He fixed her with a cold look.

"Go away."

"House," she said gently, vaguely aware that she was talking to him in the same way she did to a difficult patient.

He looked away, back down at the ball, then up at the wall.

Thump.

The ball rebounded back into his hands, only to be glared at and thrown back at the wall.

Thump.

"House!" Cameron near-shouted, crossing her arms. "What happened with Wilson? Obviously it's got something to do with him, and judging by your reaction he's finally decided to break up the friendship because he's realised you're not worth all the time and effort he wasted on you!"

House paused, and turned back to her, clenching the tennis ball in one hand.

"If I wanted your own personal feelings towards me, I'd act pathetic so you'd flock over to comfort me," he snapped. "As it is, I don't. Get out, Cameron."

"No," she said coolly. Her expression softened, as she remembered why she had come in here. "Look, House… he'll change his mind. Maybe he's angry because of the whole Tritter situation, but he won't stay mad at you forever. Wilson cares a lot about you."

House looked at her as if she were a repulsive and ignorant bug he was longing to swat away.

"Sorry, you guessed wrong!" he said in mock cheerfulness. "But you do get this lovely tennis ball."

He hurled it towards her, and she quickly moved her free hand up to catch it. She managed to grab it, and sighed as she dropped it to the ground, letting it roll away under a chair.

"I'm the one with the right to be angry," House muttered, turning away and staring at the wall.

Cameron looked at him, surprised.

What on earth does House have to be angry about? He's the one who pissed Tritter off, and caused this whole mess…

"Why?" she asked unsurely.

"You can go now. You're welcome to leave those folders Foreman sent through on my desk."

Cameron immediately took a seat opposite House, the two of them separated by his large, messy mahogany desk.

"House, please," she said. "What happened?"

He fixed her with a hard gaze, his light eyes filled with some strange emotion. Then he laughed, a little awkwardly.

"I keep dialling his number, and hanging up before it rings," he said. "I don't know what I'd say to him if he picked up."

Cameron didn't say anything. House sighed, rubbing his temple.

"I went to see Tritter last night," he said finally, watching her face. Even though she knew he was looking for it, she couldn't stop the shocked look from spreading across her features.

"You did?"

"Yeah," House said shortly, staring at his feet crossed over the shelf. "And the bastard said no deal."

"But-"

"So I left," House continued. "And what do you know? This morning, he's suddenly changed his mind. For no apparent reason. I figured it was a joke. But now…"

He lowered his eyes, and she could see his lashes brushing the top of his cheek. Cameron's heart ached for him.

"Wilson made a deal with him," House said quietly.

"I know," she said, trying to stop the anger from creeping into her voice.

"No," House muttered. "A different deal."

Cameron couldn't hide the confusion she felt. She had no idea what House was talking about, or why he suddenly seemed so aversive. And he seemed to think she'd magically understand his vague words, as if she were some kind of psychic.

"What deal did he make then?" she asked patiently.

House finally looked back at her.

"Wilson and Tritter… he let him…"

Cameron frowned.

"I found Tritter's tie on Wilson's floor," House said bluntly. "Does that make things clear enough for you?"

Cameron's stomach turned. She stared at House in shock, unblinking, her mind struggling to comprehend what he'd just said – and all the implications of his cold words. If House was telling the truth, then…

And all this time, I thought Wilson was just -

"God," she breathed, the air suddenly seeming thick and heavy. She hesitated. "Was Wilson… okay?"

House was silent, looking back at the wall.

"I don't know," he said. "I… I got angry. I left."

"You just left him?" she said in disbelief. She felt cold inside, her mind conjuring an image of the manipulative detective that had been pursuing House relentlessly. She couldn't believe he would actually… and Wilson – why had he agreed?

"What was I supposed to do?" he said tersely. "I never asked him to do that. I wouldn't have. If he's that damn moronic-"

"Hey!" Cameron said furiously. "He did it to help you! I can't believe you'd actually hold anything against him. After that. Do you even give a shit about him?"

House got to his feet in one swift motion, staring at her from his full height with a mixed expression of anger, hatred and… regret?

She wasn't even sure if any of it was directed at her.

"Get out."

"I'm going," she said icily, pulling the glass door shut with a loud bang behind her.

It was only once she'd left the office that she realised she was shaking.

God.

Wilson buried his face in his pillow, feeling completely and utterly drained. It had to be sometime vaguely after lunch, and he certainly hadn't eaten since... before… but all he felt was a distant growl of hunger. It definitely wasn't something he was going to get out of bed for.

I think I could lie here forever.

The thought scared him, in a strange and unfamiliar way. He'd never been someone to spend much more time than necessary in bed – except with Julia, but that was so long ago now, he was beginning to wonder if half his memories with her were even real…

After Tritter had left, he'd forced himself to get up. It hadn't been easy – he was in pain – but he managed to get to the shower. He'd let the water heat up, and then slipped inside the shower cubicle, letting the burning water wash over him.

As if it somehow made a difference.

He felt sick just thinking about Tritter. And everything he'd let him do. Some horrible part of him wondered if it was all just some twisted joke, if Tritter would just laugh it off and send House to jail anyway. Then it really would have been all for nothing.

No… he believed Tritter would keep his side of the bargain. He had to believe that much.

After the shower, he'd found he lacked the energy to do anything but sink back into bed – despite what it had been witness to only hours ago.

And then House had come.

Did I expect something more from him?

He didn't do it so that House would feel sorry for him. He did it because the idiot, left alone, was going to send himself to hell on the basis of pride alone. If he wasn't so goddamn stubborn…

And he'd prayed House would understand – if just that much, it wouldn't matter if House couldn't forgive him.

Yeah, sure.

He knew now he'd been kidding himself. If House didn't forgive him… he didn't know what he'd do. It was some bitter twist that he'd done the one thing to save House that would drive him away, maybe forever.

Wilson breathed out into his pillow, feeling his hot breath warm the cotton pillowcase beneath his face. He felt so hollowed out inside, like Tritter had taken something important away from him, something he'd not even known he had.

Can I ever get it back?

A knock at the door startled him. It wasn't Tritter – thank god – because it was a short series of sharp raps.

House?

He forced himself to get up, hoping against all logic that House had, for some reason, come back. But even if it was House, he didn't know what he would say. He'd always had somewhat of a way with words – the academic of his many classes – but now, he felt that words were failing him.

How many times can you say sorry before it's enough?

He shuffled to the door, and peered through the lens. He blinked in surprise, but moved to open the door.

An ashen-faced Cameron was standing at his door, wringing her hands in front of her. When he opened the door, her eyes fixed on him and before he could react, she'd thrown both her arms around him in a tight hug.

He was more than taken aback, but… it felt nice. As if he could feel her untainted emotions seeping into him through this simplest, most innocent hug, devoid of desire and lust and those other betraying emotions.

"God, Wilson," she murmured, her voice muffled by his shirt. "Why…?"

They stood there for a few minutes, Cameron with her arms around him as far as they would go and him just standing there, trying to absorb all the good he could feel in her, feeling her heart beat against his chest.

Finally, he pulled her inside, and shut the door, stepping back from her embrace.

"Do you want tea?" he offered, hating how husky his voice sounded. She looked at him as if he were crazy.

She opened her mouth to say something, then paused, mouth half-open, and finally closed it again, with a small nod.

"Thanks," she said softly. He moved to his kettle – kindly provided by the hotel – and set out two mugs, adding a teabag to each. Cameron took a seat – the same seat House had sat in… and the same seat Tritter had sat in - and looked at him with concern written all over her face.

He took a seat opposite her, looking down at the glossy but empty table between them as he waited for the water to boil.

"Oh, Wilson," she said. "Why did you do it?"

"House told you," he said thickly, his voice sounding strange in his own ears.

Has he yelled it out to everyone he met?

"He hasn't told anyone but me," she said quietly. "At least, I don't think so."

Wilson wondered if his emotions were always so visible. He played with the hem of his boxer shorts, wondering why it didn't bother him that Cameron had seen him like this. In a crumpled shirt and boxer shorts, unshaven, looking like hell. Julia had always hated it when he was anything less than presentable, and somewhere along the line he'd developed this idea that all women were like that.

Maybe she's just hiding it because… of the circumstances.

Which brought him back to those particular circumstances.

"House has been so horrible to you lately," Cameron said, her voice tinged with anger, staring at the ground. "I've been horrible… I'm so sorry... and… and I don't understand how you can, after what he says and does… how you could…?"

She didn't seem like she could say it. For once, he felt like the strong one.

"How I could let him screw me?" he asked finally. He sighed. "For House, Cameron."

Because I'm waiting for something from him that I'll probably never get.

"For House," she repeated in her soft voice, chewing her lip. She seemed like she wanted to say something, but she didn't. At last, she looked sideways at him, her resolve suddenly harder. "Is it over now, Wilson? Do you think… ?"

He paused, thinking over her question. Would Tritter leave House alone now? Well, it all came back to the same question he'd been asking himself since last night, even while Tritter…

Why me?

Why had Tritter even demanded such a thing as he had? It was probably because he knew Wilson would be the one most likely to comply – the one foolish enough to do anything – but he still didn't know what Tritter's goal had been.

It wasn't as he'd said, after all.

"I like you."

They'd both seen the emptiness in those icy words. So it had to be some kind of attack aimed at House.

"You're his best friend, Wilson," Cameron said, now playing with a lock of her hair distractedly. But he spotted a trace of unhidden pain flickering across her face. "No one is closer to House than you… none of us… he won't let anyone else in, because you mean the most to him."

Was she reading my thoughts?

"That's why Tritter wanted you to make that deal," she said, sighing slightly. "Because if House pushes you away, he's got nobody."

"I can't make him forgive me," Wilson said bitterly, remembering House's expression of unconcealed shock, his cold remarks.

"You're not the one who needs to be forgiven," Cameron said resolutely. "He's the one who needs to say sorry – for not being there for you the way you've always been for him. For letting things get to this stage…"

"We'd be waiting for the moon to land in the ocean if we waited for House to apologise," he commented wryly.

"It's different this time," Cameron said ambiguously, looking instead out the window. "God… I'd kill that bastard Tritter if I could. I really would."

She looked back at him with troubled eyes.

"Did he hurt you?"

He was somewhat relieved when the kettle clicked over on the counter, and got up quickly – so as not to reveal to Cameron that it hurt to do so.

"No, not really," he said lightly, now that his back was to her. He gripped the kettle's handle tightly, pouring the hot water into the two cups. "I'm fine, Cameron."

He added milk, and sugar – from somewhere in the past he vaguely remembered how Cameron had her tea – and carried both cups over to the table. She accepted hers, their eyes meeting.

"Liar," she accused softly, as he sat down opposite her.

He smiled weakly at her, sipping his tea.

The two of them sat in silence, each sorting through their own convoluted thoughts.

"House will come around," Cameron said finally, and she said it with such conviction he almost believed it was true.

Almost.

I always wondered why House could never let me close to him. I can admit that it started as some foolish crush, but over time I think it must have developed into something more. And even though my feelings became more serious – more real – it didn't seem to have any effect. He still kept the same old barriers up, refusing to let me in.

I think I understand now.

It's always been there, in the back of my mind, but until now I never really gave it too much credit. It's obvious enough to all of us that Wilson has something that none of us come close to with House, and it's always been sort of surprising because his outlook on the world is so radically different to House's – they seem like diametrical opposites.

I wanted to know why House couldn't love me back, and I guess I finally get it.

Because he's waiting for someone else. And I can't change that, no matter what I do. I couldn't see it before, didn't want to believe it, really…

Wilson would do anything for House, and I'd be kidding myself if I thought that his feelings were unrequited. I guess I really was fooling myself all this time.

But I want House to be happy. I do. And that means he's got to see that his stubborn pride has to start coming second to his feelings, or he really will lose Wilson -

And Tritter will have won.

Endnote: Kind of a slow chapter really… but important aftermath things. Originally I didn't plan to bring the other characters in too much, so Cameron was a bit of a surprise even to me. Hopefully it worked out all right (hint: let me know!!). I really don't intend this to turn epic, so I think it should only last a few more chapters at most. Don't worry – Tritter hasn't just mysteriously disappeared. Well - he has, I suppose - but it's not permanent! He'll be back…

p.s if anyone knows the reference of the chapter title, a cookie to them! It's obscure. Trust me.

-Amalialia-