Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to House.

A/N: Thanks again for the awesome response for the last chapter. I am absolutely thrilled and so grateful for all the reviews you readers have left me. They really make my day. I really appreciate all of you telling me what you think about this story. As always, feedback is much appreciated. I'd love to know if there's anything you think I should do differently or anything you'd like to see.

He limped down the hall, his step uneven with his cane. He avoided making eye contact with the people passing him by, focusing only on his destination. It was a place he usually ended up at least once a day, once every other day if he could help it. He pushed open her door without knocking and invited himself in. He was on a mission, as he so often was, and niceties were irrelevant.

"Where's Cameron?" he demanded.

Cuddy looked up at him from her paperwork. He stared back and raised an eyebrow at her, waiting not so patiently for her response. "Come on, come on!" he insisted, drumming the top of his cane impatiently.

Cuddy sighed and closed the file she had been reading. "I sent her home," she said simply. She rose up from her desk and walked around to the front of it. He always appreciated when she did that; it gave her the illusion of being more authoritative, which made him snigger a bit in the back of his mind.

"You sent her home?" he repeated. "Did she play badly in school, Mommy?"

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "No. She was burning up."

House frowned and tapped his cane thoughtfully. "She was sick?" he said slowly.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" Cuddy shot back at him. "You can't be right all the time, House. She wasn't lying about being sick yesterday. She looked absolutely awful today."

His frown deepened. In truth, he hadn't seen Cameron since that morning, but she had looked fine to him then. She didn't look any better or worse than she normally did, and it certainly didn't look to him like she had spent the previous day on the bathroom floor with a bug. No, that couldn't be right; Cameron wasn't sick. She had lied to him yesterday, and somehow she had fooled Cuddy into thinking she was sick enough to go home today. What did she want to avoid so badly?

"How do you know?" he asked gruffly.

"How do I know what, House?"

"That she was sick yesterday!"

Cuddy let out a sigh of frustration. "For crying out loud, House! Would you give it up already? I know she was sick yesterday because I found her crying on the floor of the bathroom today throwing up. She has a fever; she obviously isn't feeling well."

"You just found her crying in the bathroom?" he asked slowly.

"No," Cuddy corrected him, "Chase told me he saw her run in there and asked me to go see if she was okay. I went in and looked, and she was sick so I drove her home."

"You drove her home?" House repeated incredulously. "What was wrong with having Chase drive her home? Didn't you have work to do?"

"Yes, House, I did!" Cuddy said exasperatedly. "And I did tell her I would get Chase to drive her home. You know what she did? She started hyperventilating and she almost made herself pass out. You know why? Because she was too damn worried about what you would think and how angry you would be if she and Chase both left!"

House only stared at her. Why did everything seem to involve Chase? Chase had told Cuddy where to look for Cameron. Cuddy suggested Chase should drive Cameron home, and had practically sent the younger doctor into shock. Something wasn't adding up here.

Or maybe it added up too perfectly. Maybe the reason Chase seemed to come up every time something was wrong with Cameron was because there was something wrong with them. Something wasn't right and no matter who Cameron could convince about how she was feeling, House wasn't going to believe there was nothing there until he could confront her about it himself. If she wasn't going to work at the hospital, then he would have to take more direct action. He was going to have to talk to her himself. And by the looks of things, he was going to have to talk to her as soon as he possibly could.

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She drifted slowly in and out of hazy consciousness, feeling as though she couldn't move at all. She knew she was lying down, but she couldn't remember how she had gotten that way. The last thing she remembered was being in the bathroom, and Cuddy, Cuddy feeling her forehead, Cuddy telling her she would drive her home. Cuddy changing her plan, Cuddy wanting to have Chase drive her home instead…

Cameron jerked her eyes open, fully awake now. Chase! Had he been to her apartment? How had she gotten inside? Had he had anything to do with this? Her mind was reeling and she began to panic as her mind struggled to catch up and fill her in on what had happened the last few hours. What had happened? Had he…had he…?

No, she answered herself, trying to calm herself down. No, he wouldn't touch you. She couldn't feel any pain, like she had the last time he had touched her. He was probably still at work. He was probably making up excuses for her, and why she had left, unless he had left that for Cuddy to do. She was alone, she assured herself. Nothing had happened.

But no, he couldn't be at work. From the darkness falling over the couch, he must have returned from work a long time ago. It was dark; it was late. She bolted upright; where was he?

She reached behind her slowly and turned on the light. Brightness illuminated the room, casting shadows onto the floor and shining light on the coffee table beside the couch. Cameron frowned and picked up the piece of paper. She exhaled slowly as she read it.

Hey sweetie,

I came home and you were asleep. I didn't have the heart to wake you. I'm going to crash in your bedroom, okay? Come wake me up when you're feeling better.

Love,

Robbie

A hard pounding on the door resounded, shattering the silence. She turned around quickly; who was at the door? Chase, according to the note, was asleep in her bedroom. Who else would come to her apartment this late? The pounding increased, in volume and speed. Worried whoever it was would wake up Chase, Cameron moved quickly to the door and unlocked it.

"House?"

He was standing in the doorway leaning causally against his cane. He had looked up when she said his name, but otherwise didn't speak at all. She watched his eyes survey her form and she realized that she must have looked a mess. She looked back at him with slight trepidation. Why had he come here? It had to be late at night; whatever it was, it couldn't be about a patient. Had he come to yell at her for leaving work early?

"I'm going to assume," he said slowly, "that the reason it took you so long to come to the door was because I just woke you up from what I'm sure was a very pleasant dream."

She didn't know what to say. His statement, while it retained his true character and wit for sarcasm, didn't betray any of his purpose for coming here. She cast an anxious glance behind her, hoping that Chase hadn't woken up. He probably wouldn't like that she was talking to House right now. She quietly shut the door behind her and stepped out into the hallway.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," House commented lightly. "Chase in there with you?" he called.

"Be quiet!" she hissed at him. She crossed her arms, hugging herself tightly, as though she could protect herself from whatever he was going to throw at her next. She looked hard him, staring him down, daring him to say something mean to her while she could look so pitiful. "What do you want?"

She waited for him to say something sarcastic, something to the effect of him commenting snidely on where she had been, while still implying several sexual references along the way. She braced herself for what was coming, refusing to look anywhere else but at him, and especially not at the ground which might have suggested she was ashamed of something.

In truth, she wanted nothing more than to hang her head. She didn't want him to see her like this. She was a mess, and they both knew it, though why he wasn't commenting was beyond her. She was still wearing her turtleneck, wrinkled from having slept in it for so many hours. Her hair was tangled and thrown loosely over her shoulders. He was pretty justified in thinking Chase was inside, she reflected, seeing as she looked messy enough to have just had sex with him.

What he did next surprised her more than anything. He didn't speak, but instead walked closer to her and pressed his lips softly against her forehead. Cameron was too shocked to say anything, caught off guard by his blatant physical contact. She felt her heart beat quicken and she tried to take a breath to calm herself down. Her chest still sore, she emitted a small gasp of pain when she tried to take a breath and stumbled back against the wall, breaking House's contact with her.

"You don't feel warm to me."

"What?" she said absently, massaging her chest, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible about the pain.

"I said," he repeated, "you don't feel warm to me." It still didn't make any sense to her. She tilted her head and frowned at him. "Your forehead," he said slowly, trying to make her comprehend. "It's not warm. You don't have a fever. You lied."

"No – no," she stuttered. "No, I did have a fever earlier. You can ask Cuddy; she was the one that drove me home-"

Why was he looking at her like that; why didn't he believe her? His piercing stare was enough to make her wither beneath it. His eyes were not warm, but only held questions, questions that she knew she would soon have to answer. She glanced nervously at the door; what if Chase woke up and saw her talking to House?

"What are you so afraid of?"

She looked back at him curiously, anxiously. He could read every emotion on her face. She had one flash of fear and he could see it instantly. He was House, that was it. His uncanny knack for reading people was proving itself yet again; he could read her like a book. "Nothing," she replied. But she knew she had replied too late and that her voice had already betrayed her inner fear.

She didn't want to be read; she didn't want him to know. Unlike Wilson, who recognized how uncomfortable she had been around him, House recognized it, but didn't care. In fact, he was feeding on it. He was playing a game with her that she was never going to win. She averted her eyes, unable to sustain his burning stare any longer.

"Cameron," he said gently. She was stunned by his softer, less gruff tone. It was almost soothing to hear him speak to her this way, not yelling triumphantly, with no trace of sarcasm. It was humanizing. "Cameron, look at me."

She did so, but reluctantly. He was staring back at her, with deep intensity filling his blue eyes. For the first time in a long time, she saw the emotion behind his eyes, the real person behind his gruff and demeaning shell that he kept on the outside. He met her gaze and she stared back at him, wondering what he was going to say next, or really, if anything even needed to be said at all. If he had meant to calm her, he already had.

"Cameron," he began softly, "you might not tell me what the problem is, but I've got a pretty good idea already." He eyed her sternly, searching her face for traces of emotion. She tried to keep it as straight as possible. He paused, and then said clearly, "How long has it been going on?"

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment she couldn't breathe. Her head began to spin. She couldn't believe that he had guessed, that he had just asked her that. She should have known better than to think it would go unnoticed by him; he was House, after all. But nothing could have prepared her for this. She didn't know what to feel. At first she felt relief, that someone had finally noticed, that maybe she wasn't as invisible as she had thought, but relief was a passing feeling and it was now replaced by fear. Fear coursed through her veins and made her heart pound so loudly, she swore he could hear it to. Fear dilated her pupils and sent her falling back against the wall in shock. Fear caused her to look anxiously at her apartment door, terrified that any moment, he would come out and attack her. She shouldn't be talking to House at all. Chase wouldn't like that. She had to get back inside; she had spent too much time with House already.

"I – I don't know what you're talking about," she lied.

He looked at her, and his gaze was almost sympathetic. This scared her more than anything. She could hide her reality from everyone else, but he would always see right through her façade. He knew too much already, to bring this question upon her. Her silence answered his question, but she knew it would only answer it in his mind. It would only confirm his suspicions.

"Yes, you do," he growled quietly. "Come on, Cameron! Everyone can see it!"

She continued to shake her head. The only thing she could do was keep denying him. She couldn't get Chase in trouble if she never said anything; House's suspicions might be enough to bring her in for questioning, but she could continue to deny the accusations, and Chase would always be safe. She couldn't betray him now; she was trapped. Chase would hurt her; he would probably kill her if he found out she had turned him in. She shuddered involuntarily at the thought. She couldn't turn Chase in; she couldn't get him in trouble. It wasn't right for him to go to jail for the rest of his life because he had made some mistakes. He had made mistakes, but he was learning. She could help him; she could teach him, change him, and he would learn. He could learn how to treat her better; she knew he could do it, but it could only be done if she never gave up on him. She couldn't turn him in now.

"No," she said in a voice she barely recognized as her own. It was harsher than she intended, but she couldn't back down. "No, you're wrong. He's never touched me. Chase loves me."

"He's brainwashed you!"

"You're brainwashing everyone else!" she shouted back at him. "You're making something of nothing, House!"

He ignored her. "How long has it been going on?" he insisted loudly.

"He's never touched me!"

"How long?" he shouted at her.

She didn't answer; she couldn't scream at him anymore. Chase might have woken up; she had to get back into her apartment quickly before he realized anything was wrong. She couldn't lie anymore. She couldn't lie to House and speaking any more to him would only make the situation worse. She turned around and pulled her door open. She didn't look back at him, not wanting to encourage him to respond, not wanting to continue this shouting match.

She wasn't entirely sure why she was lying to him, or maybe she was, but she didn't want to admit it. She hated herself for lying to him, for shouting so harshly at him, when he hadn't done anything but just ask her some questions. The questions were uncomfortable, but he couldn't help that. It was wrong of her to yell at him. She felt tears fill her eyes and she turned back to him.

"Just go, House," she whispered. "Things will be much worse if you stay." She allowed the door to close slowly behind her, and she couldn't help but feel that she had just shut out the last person in her life.

"Where have you been?"

Each word was said slowly, deliberately, spat out of his mouth with so much anger and hatred that she could scarcely believe the voice was human. She looked up at him with her wet eyes and felt her pulse quicken, seeing the blazing fire in his blue eyes.

"No – nowhere, Chase," she stuttered. She reached out to touch his arm, wanting to calm him down before he did anything both of them would regret.

He drew back from her and she was scared by the look of pure hatred in his face. "Don't lie to me," he said through clenched teeth. He advanced on her, forcing her to back herself up against the door.

"Robbie," she said softly, trying to calm him down. She tried stroking his face, brushing her fingers delicately against his cheek. "Robbie, please listen to me. I'm not lying, baby. I was just outside the door. House came here looking for me; I talked to him outside because I didn't want to wake you-"

Chase roared and slammed her into the door. "WHAT DID YOU TELL HIM?" he bellowed.

"Nothing – nothing, Robbie!" Cameron gasped, the wind knocked out of her with the force with which she had hit the door. "I promise, I promise! House came here and accused me of lying about being sick. I told him he was wrong. I told him I was sick – and Cuddy believes me, Robbie! It's okay, no one can prove anything!"

"They can't prove anything?" Chase spat at her. "What's that supposed to mean? WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN TELLING PEOPLE?"

"Nothing!" she insisted. "Please, believe me! Please – don't hurt me! DON'T HURT ME!"

She was sobbing now; he didn't believe her. The cruelest irony had fallen upon her. She felt as though she had been betrayed by fate itself. She had protected him, lied about him, lied to everyone that asked her about him. She had never said anything that would accuse him – the only thing she had ever done was be in pain. And she couldn't help that either. She didn't deserve any of this. She had kept him safe.

He roared and slapped her across the face. "Stop crying!" he ordered her. "Stop it, Cameron! Stop it now!"

But she couldn't stop. She was too scared to stop crying. She couldn't calm him down; she wasn't going to be able to stop him. He could do whatever he wanted to her. She knew it, and even if he didn't know it, he'd do whatever he wanted to her without her consent. He was going to hurt her again. He was going to rape her again. She had tried her hardest to fix him. She deserved this. She hadn't done her part. She had been too obvious; she had caught too much attention. He was taking out his anger on her, and she could understand why he was angry.

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" he screamed at her, slamming her into the door again and again. She couldn't stop; she wasn't yelling for help, but only crying, crying so loudly. She couldn't make herself stop. She just wanted to die. She couldn't stop him from hurting her. She just wanted it to end. She thought she heard a vague pounding on the door, but that was probably just her imagination. Yelling for help, begging for her life would do nothing to help her now. She could only wait for it to be over.

He slammed her into the door, and this time, she saw her world flicker. She closed her eyes, hearing nothing but his screaming above her tears. She felt him lift her and slam her into the door again and her world went black. He felt her go limp and he threw her body to the ground. He continued to beat her until he had nothing left, nothing more he could do to her. She had been unconscious for several minutes, and he had heard nothing except for his own grunts and angry yells as he assaulted her. Satisfied with his work, he smirked at her still form and straightened his shirt. He closed the door with a content slam, leaving her lying lifeless on her apartment floor.