Chapter 6

House pulled Cameron's car to a stop in front of his apartment. She looked up at the familiar building warily.

"Here?" she asked.

He turned off the car and handed her the keys.

"I don't know about you, but I plan on getting shit-faced tonight and don't foresee myself possessing the capability of driving home from anywhere," he said, opening the door and stepping out of the car.

Cameron stepped out too, closing the door behind her.

"And what am I supposed to do?"

"Get shit-faced with me…I think it will do us both some good to consume alcohol the way it was meant to be consumed, until we've properly wiped out a few dozen brain cells and scrubbed away the catastrophe that was today."

He turned back to see her still standing by the car, mulling the idea over in her head. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

"And I will sleep wherever I pass out…you're welcome to the bed," he continued. She looked up at him, eyes still red and swollen. "Or there's your car, take it and go home. I'll get a cab in the morning to take me back to the hospital."

He turned back towards the door and inserted his key into the lock. He could care less whether Cameron joined him or not at that point. All he knew was there was a large bottle of Jack Daniels awaiting him inside. His anger still burned within him, and he inwardly screamed as he continued seeing images of Cuddy flash behind his eyes, despite his hatred for her at that moment. He was still enticed by her.

Throwing open the door he shrugged off his coat and let it fall to the floor while making a bee-line for the kitchen. Hearing the door shut, he looked over his shoulder to find a meek Cameron standing in front of it.

"I'll get you a glass," he said before continuing into the kitchen.

Cameron made her way into his apartment, feeling numb. She really didn't know what to do at that moment. All she could think of was Chase with that girl…in his bed, where they so often made love. Love…she laughed to herself. At least that's what she thought she had with him…didn't she? Or maybe she just pushed herself to believe that's what it was, because she had been searching so long for it and desperately needed to have something meaningful in her life. Once upon a time she had believed in miracles…believed the man whose apartment she now sat in would melt the ice around his heart and love her back. But that had been a lost cause. Chase had been real…he had wanted more with her. And damn it, she deserved that.

And then he went and threw it all away. Threw away the best damn thing that ever happened to him…for what? For one night with that whore. Cameron could feel the anger surging within her, and when House appeared out of nowhere dangling a small glass in front of her, she snatched it from his hand and downed the amber liquid in a flash.

"I'm going to need a bigger glass," she said, coughing as the liquor burned its way down her throat and into her heart.

Two hours later, Cameron lay sprawled on House's leather sofa staring into a haze. House was slumped in the nearby recliner, an empty bottler resting comfortably in his hand. The sounds of jazz echoed through the apartment as they both lay entranced. At some point House insisted on the CDs, not only to make the uncomfortable silence a bit more bearable, but to drown out Cuddy's words still nagging at him.

The music soothed Cameron, and she finally closed her eyes, letting it take her in. She saw Chase's face, his bright eyes and youthful smile, and she suddenly felt her hands balling into fists. She really wanted to beat the shit out of him and wipe that grin off his face.

"He thinks he's God's gift to women," she blurted out, not realizing she had spoken out loud.

House opened his bleary eyes and looked at her.

"Isn't he?" House asked, eyebrows raised.

Cameron shot her eyes open and turned her head. The effects of the alcohol had certainly taken her over, but had not impeded her movements entirely. Slowly she sat up and rested her elbows on her knees, her eyes staring at nothing. For some reason all she wanted to do at that point was talk.

"That was my first impression of him, you know? When you first hired us? Young, good looking doctor, full of himself, coming from a life where everything was handed to him on a silver platter," she rattled on.

House half listened, half inebriated, his own issues with romance plaguing him.

She couldn't stop herself. "But he tried so hard…so hard to lead us all to believe he could stand on his own two feet, that he was where he was in life because he strived to get there. That he could give his whole heart to a woman and have it mean more than just sex. And he really had me going…I really fell for it…I'm such an idiot."

Lowering her head, she looked at her empty glass and frowned, then looked over at the empty bottle nestled in House's hand. Her frown deepened.

He finally looked at her and followed her gaze. "I think there's another bottle around here somewhere…" He started to get up.

"So what's your sob story," Cameron said, catching him off guard. He staggered a bit before finding his balance and leaning against the wall.

"No story to tell," he said.

Cameron stood shakily and walked a few steps before stopping. "Oh come on, I was right wasn't I. You do have feelings for Cuddy."

She walked a few dizzying steps closer.

"Was that why you were running away from the hospital almost as fast as I was?" she asked.

House chuckled. "I can't run, remember?"

She shrugged. "I was metaphorically speaking. What happened? Did she shoot you down?"

House turned abruptly towards her, his eyes like daggers attacking her with their steely blue tips. She raised her eyebrows and began to laugh.

His eyes softened as he questioned her with a look.

"Oh, House, I'm not laughing at you," she said, laughing harder now. She bent over and braced her hands on her thighs, literally doubling over in a fit of laughter. Holding up a hand, she promised it wasn't at him.

"I'm glad I could be here to amuse you," he spat. "Just because you felt the need to burden me with your troubles and spill your guts with the sputtering delusions of a love sick idiot, and yes I'm referring to you, does not mean I need, nor want to bear my soul to you. You don't know shit about me."

She straightened up and took in a deep breath, the room spinning slightly as she did so. She grabbed the back of the chair for support.

"Ignorance is bliss, right," she said, her smile disappearing as they stared at each other. He broke their stare and moved his eyes to the floor.

Cameron regarded him a moment. She had seen him in this state many times before…when Stacy came back and he sent her away, dealing with being shot, his troubles with Tritter, throughout his Vicodin addiction, his leg pain, his own internal battles with himself and his past…she knew him well enough now to know when he was hurting emotionally.

He had needs, just like she did…he wanted to give his heart to someone, and it was rejected, just like her own. He reluctantly put his faith and hope into something, wary of its outcome, only to have it thrown back in his face…just like her. Everything in his universe was out of sync, just as her own universe was out of balance at that moment. Despite what he and everyone else thought, Greg House was human after all.

She was thoroughly convinced now that love did not exist…something House discovered a long time ago. It was simply hormones, chemicals, synapses in the brain…it was all physiological. There was nothing emotional about it. So why did people build their whole lives around it?

Cameron stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, and he finally began to feel his skin crawl under her scrutiny.

"I'll go find that bottle," he said, grabbing his cane and limping towards the bedroom. Once there, he looked around the room and noticed the glass neck of the familiar bottle poking out from behind a few books on the shelf. He limped over and removed it, eyeing up the level of the liquid.

"I have a proposition for you," said Cameron, startling him and nearly making him drop the bottle.

"Jesus, didn't anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on an old man, especially when he's drunk," House said, turning to face her. Glancing down, he noticed she was barefoot, probably why he didn't hear her coming down the hall. When had she taken off her shoes?

She moved closer to him and took the bottle from his hand, screwing open the cap and taking a swig from the bottle. Grimacing as the liquor slid down her throat, she closed her eyes and felt her body slip deeper into a haze. Whiskey was good stuff.

House watched her intently, the way her lips covered the tip of the bottle in a perfect circle, the way the stray drops of whiskey reflected the light off her lips. Her tongue peeked out and ran over their surface, lapping up the remaining drops and savoring the taste, and he felt something inside him tighten.

"What's your proposition," he finally said, his voice low, his eyes transfixed on her lips.

Cameron opened her eyes and locked with his. They were both completely drunk, and she remembered that being the last coherent thought in her head. What she spoke next came from nowhere in particular…well, perhaps somewhere deep inside her, from a place she had buried deep, from a feeling she thought she had all but given up on.

"We're both hurting, we're both feeling rejected," she began, and House looked away. He turned his back and put his hand up on the shelf. "And whether you can admit it or not, your heart is breaking just as much as mine. So I'm going to shut it off. I'm through putting my emotions out on the line only to have them crushed."

House snickered, shaking his head and looking up at the ceiling. Cameron knew her words were getting through…that he was admitting defeat as much as she was.

"But the need is still there," she said quietly, almost whispering. "And satisfying that need makes the pain go away."

Placing the bottle atop his nightstand, she walked closer to him and put her hand on his shoulder. He jumped slightly, not expecting the touch, and turned to face her, curious.

"It's us against them, House," she said, lifting her fingers to gently caress his rough jaw line. She hungrily drank in the sight of his lips opening slightly in anticipation, much like they had done when she kissed him all those months before with the hopes of getting a drop of his blood. How whorish, just like he'd said.

"You scratch my itch, and I'll scratch yours?" House said, following her train of thought. His hands moved instinctively to her small waist.

Cameron nodded and sucked in her breath at the feel of his large hands on her hips. Her reaction to his touch caused his own breath to grow shallow. She was right, he did have a need, a frustration that had been growing from weeks of impure thoughts over a woman he despised, a woman who had crushed him and brushed him off like some annoying fan.

House slammed his lips to Cameron's, devouring her in an attempt to push away the pain in his heart.