Disclaimer: I do not own House M.D. or the ideas of the story "A Christmas Carol". Someone does, but it surely isn't me. So, I own nothing while writing this story.

A/N: Thank you again to the readers who have reviewed my story. It really helps my story keep going. So, I hope the readers keep reviewing and enjoying the story. Also, in one of the reviews someone asked me why I was making House go through three days of "spirits" rather than one night like Scrooge. This is mainly because I want to draw the story out and I happen to think it would be just too short for my liking if I made it all in one night. Still, I hope the readers enjoy and remember to review afterwards! (=

Music that inspired this chapter: "Running Up That Hill" by Placebo, "Here We Go" by Mat Kearney, and "Hit The Ground" by Lizz Wright. (=

Chapter 4: Back To Reality

A foot of thick, white snow covered every surface the next morning and it was something of a relief to feel the blasting heat inside the hospital. House took his time walking to his office that morning, not really looking forward to talking to anyone, particularly Wilson. His eyes felt unbearably heavy as he limped to the elevator and he cursed Wilson for putting those thoughts in his head. He made sure to pop some Vicodin before he stepped into the elevator. The doors had almost closed when a hand intercepted them. The elevator doors slid open again to reveal Wilson, who was wearing a cheerful, peaceful expression. Great. He moved into the elevator next to House, but he did not speak as the elevator ascended. Finally, House felt the silence had become too uneasy.

"This is all your fault, you know. I'm blaming you." Wilson stared at House with confusion written all over his face. At least that took care of the cheerful problem. Wilson chose his words carefully while still attempting to register what House was referring to.

"It's my fault that we're in an elevator together? Yeah, I'll be sure to add that to my list of sins when I'm going to confession." House rolled his eyes and gave Wilson an impatient look.

"Not the elevator. It's your fault that I had strange dreams last night. You put those ideas in my head yesterday." Wilson's expression seemed to become even more confused. House could see that Wilson was trying hard to figure this conversation out.

"You're having weird dreams—which, by the way, is not as unusual for you as it is for the rest of the world—and your solution is to blame me? That makes sense…to a point. Maybe you're just taking too much Vicodin, House. Cameron's stable, by the way." House avoided looking at Wilson as a mental image of Cameron in a hospital bed ran through his mind. He knew that if he went to her hospital room, she would look the same as she did in the dream. Wilson cleared his throat loudly.

"So, what did you dream about?" House gave Wilson a look of disbelief.

"Oh, now you want the details? Now that you ask that, I don't feel like telling you." Wilson laughed softly before facing House directly, even if House would not glance at him. The elevator beeped to signal that they reached the requested floor and the doors slid smoothly open. Wilson stalled for only a minute.

"House…Merry Christmas," Wilson stated with amusement and walked away without turning back. The doors began to close and House stopped them with his cane. He stood there for another minute as he registered Wilson's words. Of course Cameron was still sick, even if she was supposedly stabilized. He had simply forgotten that today was December the 25th.

There was only one thing that was a relief to House about Cameron being sick. She wasn't there to give House's office a Christmas make-over. Normally, she would have hung strings of garland and placed a large bowl of candy canes on his desk, maybe even add a small tree. Now, his office was the same as any other day, just the way he liked it.

The only two people in House's office were Foreman and Chase. House dropped his things next to his desk and strode over to the adjoining room, trying not to think about his adventure here the night before. Foreman was sloppily writing something on the white board; Cameron's symptoms he presumed. And Foreman said he wasn't anything like House. Right. There weren't many symptoms yet, which said very little about how they were handling the case so far. If anything, they were probably screwing something up. House noticed that neither doctor looked up as he entered the room.

"Didn't you ever wonder why they call that thing you're writing on a 'white board'? I would have thought the answer is pretty obvious." Foreman threw a look at House that lacked surprise and sighed.

"I think you've already tried that on me, House. This isn't your case, anyway." House glanced around for a full minute before meeting Foreman's eyes again.

"True, but this is my office. I outrank you easily. Am I right, Steve Irwin?" Chase did not look up at House as he stood with his arms crossed. "Fine, don't appreciate my humorous nature whatsoever. I'm sure you two are just working wonders on Cameron. In case you aren't aware, that was sarcastic." Foreman turned away from House and Chase resulted in lounging back in a chair. House examined the list on the white board and smirked. It was a hopelessly short and pitiful list; he had expected something more than this by now. Another thought came to his mind and he tried to get Foreman's attention again.

"Did Cameron go into cardiac arrest since you took her case?" Chase sat up and appeared thoughtful, but he also looked curious about House's intentions. Foreman wasn't impressed in House's sudden change in attitude.

"I thought you weren't interested in Cameron's case. Changing your mind so soon?" House stepped towards Foreman and his tone became stern.

"Did Cameron go into cardiac arrest?" Foreman seemed ready to protest, but stopped to consider his answer. Then, with suspicious eyes that mirrored Chase's expression, he slowly responded.

"No. She never went into cardiac arrest." Just then, both Foreman and Chase's beepers went off. After glancing at them, their faces changed to grave expressions. Chase jumped out of his chair and swiftly left the room. Foreman glared at House, allowing his eyes to burn through House, and followed quickly behind Chase. House gazed at the whiteboard for another minute before leaving the office and heading to the hospital room that now held an ill-fated Cameron.

House, as usual, was right. The instant he stepped into Cameron's hospital room, he had a sense of déjà vu. Her body lay still on the bed, the monitors screaming that she had flat-lined. It felt as if he was standing in his dream again, and he was waiting for the ghostly Cameron to make the scene stop. In the back of his head, he knew that spirit of Cameron would not come, that the ill body in the hospital bed was the only Cameron here and her fate now rested in the hands of her fellow co-workers. Still, House could only witness what was going on.

Chase was standing next to the hospital bed, trying to get Cameron's heart to start again. Foreman rushed in, guiding the crash cart behind him. Chase paused in pumping Cameron's chest to stare angrily at House, who had moved to the end of the hospital bed, and had locked his eyes on the limp figure of Cameron.

"Could you possibly do something to help? This is Cameron, for God's sake." House absently shook his head and could only watch.

"No," he whispered faintly. Foreman muttered something incomprehensible, though House did catch the word "bastard" in there. Foreman set up the paddles and began using them on Cameron. Her body lurched in the air for a second, but the machines claimed she was still flat-lined. Foreman aimed again, but still there was no change. Chase hung his head and started making soft, moaning sounds. His body shook slightly, and House suspected he was crying. Foreman swiped a hand across his forehead and tried one more time. Again, Cameron's body jumped into the air, and then the machines beeped once before slowing. Foreman breathed a sigh of relief as Cameron's chest eventually started moving again. He glanced quickly at Chase before exiting the room with the crash cart in tow. As soon as Foreman was gone, Chase bent down to Cameron and attempted to hold her while hiding his face in her light hair. House tossed him a pitiful look, even though he wasn't paying attention and House couldn't help hearing Chase as he quietly murmured.

"Allison. Allison. Oh, Allison. You're going to be alright. I promise." House muttered something like "give me a break" under his breath and Chase's head snapped up, as if he just realized that House was still there. His cheeks went red, almost like he was embarrassed by his act of comforting Cameron.

"How did you know that, House? How did you know that she would go into cardiac arrest? This isn't even your case." Chase's tone was hard and serious, and his eyes were narrowed as he waited for House's answer.

"Trust me, you don't want to know. In fact, I don't think you'll even believe me. As far as you know, I was just lucky." Chase straightened up and glided over to House. If his tone was cold before, it was as frozen as ice now.

"You knew this would happen. Why are you refusing Cameron's case? Are you really that stubborn?" House turned away and Chase scowled. He headed for the door, but stopped to add in one more statement, one that aimed knives at House.

"Cameron would be very disappointed in you, House." With that, he left the hospital room and angrily started down the hallway. House looked back at Cameron's body, still hearing Chase's words in his mind, and he wished she would at least open her eyes. House recalled his dream in which Cameron had gone into cardiac arrest. Others would believe that the connection between his dream and reality was simple coincidence. Too bad House didn't believe in coincidences.