Live and Let Die

By Rhi

Chapter Seven – Aftermath

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Hey guys, I'm so sorry about the late update after I said I would be able to update quicker! Especially after that cliffhanger I left you on. My excuse is that I've just got addicted to a new series of books, Lee Child's Jack Reacher series if anyone's interested in some fantastic books. They are so good and so addictive that I can't put them down to go to bed, let alone to write, hence the lack of updates! But I promise I'll be better from now on. And I just want to say a big thank you to everyone who's given me feedback on my story so far. You guys are awesome! On another great note, I just got my exam results back, and all my marks are really good and I'm really happy with them, so to celebrate, I thought I would post this extra-long chapter.

So that's enough from me, enjoy the chapter!

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Cameron bagged a head of lettuce and placed it in the basket along with an assortment of other fruits and vegetables. Part of her self-appointed mission was to get House eating healthily, which would also help his liver function.

As she made her way through the supermarket, selecting various foodstuffs as she passed them in the aisles, she reflected on the day's events so far. She couldn't help but return time and time again to the events after the massage and wondered what would have happened if the phone hadn't rung. It was probably best that nothing did happen, as she would be crazy to try and start something with House while he was going through detox. That would only fuel his opinion that she only liked him because he was damaged. And while detoxing he shouldn't be making big decisions, as he wasn't necessarily operating in a normal state of mind, if his usual state of mind could even be called 'normal'.

The rest of the day seemed to have gone well, though. House didn't seem to resent her presence too much, and Cameron didn't feel as stressed out about the whole thing as she thought she might be. House could be quite a difficult patient, which Cameron understood. Being on the patient side of the doctor-patient relationship wasn't easy when you were used to being in charge and making all the decisions about someone else's health and someone else's body. It was a lot harder when other people were making decisions about your own body.

Reaching the checkouts, Cameron paid for the groceries and carted the several plastic bags out to her car and drove in the direction of House's apartment, the sense of foreboding she had felt previously coming back, weighing down heavily on her mind and tugging at her stomach nervously.

Cameron carried the plastic supermarket bags up to the door, knocked and waited. When House didn't answer, she knocked again. Frowning, and trying not to think the worst of what could be happening inside, Cameron felt over the top of the doorframe feeling around for the spare key that she knew House kept up there.

Inserting the key in the lock and opening the door, Cameron was startled to see House sitting on the couch, his head in his hands, with what she immediately recognised as a vial of morphine on the table in front of him.

Cameron dropped the bags on the floor and pushed the door close in one swift movement and quickly made her way across the lounge to where House was sitting on the couch. To her relief, she noticed that the morphine had not been used, as the prepared syringe was still lying on the table next to the small vial of morphine.

Cameron knelt down on the floor in front of House, who hadn't looked up at her since she had arrived. "House." She said softly. "What happened?"

"I couldn't do it." House said, so quietly Cameron almost didn't hear what he said.

Cameron looked over at the syringe and noted the amount and strength of the morphine. "That's a lot of morphine, House." She said, still in a soft voice.

"My body's used to opiates." House said, still not taking his head from his hands or looking at Cameron.

"A weaker form of opiate." Cameron corrected. "That's too much morphine. You're not thinking straight."

"I just wanted the pain to go away." House said, finally raising his head and looking at Cameron. He let his hands fall down to rest on his knees. "I just wanted it to stop. But I couldn't do it."

"Why not?" Cameron asked, out of curiosity.

House looked down again, speaking quietly. "I didn't want you to find me like that."

Cameron took one of House's hands in her own. "Like how, House? What were you planning on doing?"

"I wasn't going to off myself, if that's what you mean." House said, snark coming back into his tone.

Cameron felt an immediate sense of relief, and she could feel some of the tension leaving her body. She didn't think that House was suicidal, but he must be desperate if he was willing to go to lengths like this to make his pain go away. "The first three days are the worst." Cameron said, trying to be reassuring. "And you've almost made it through the first. Don't give up now. It's not going to be like this forever."

House was silent for a second. "Take it away." He said, motioning to the morphine.

Cameron nodded and picked up the vial of morphine and the syringe without a word. She went into the kitchen and depressed the plunger in the needle over the sink, squirting the powerful opiate down the drain, following it with the small amount of remaining liquid from the vial. She wrapped the syringe in a couple of pages from yesterday's newspaper and discarded it in the bin.

Cameron then retrieved a selection of House's prescribed meds from the bottles in the kitchen and carried them, along with a glass of water out to the lounge, where House was still sitting on the couch.

"Here, take these. They won't be as strong as the morphine, but they might take the edge off the pain." Cameron said, offering House the pills and the water, which he accepted and downed in one gulp.

Cameron settled on the opposite end of the couch, flicking the TV on. "General Hospital is on. You can explain to me what's going on."

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It was nearly nine by the time Wilson finally arrived at House's apartment. At six-thirty, Cameron had made grilled chicken and salad for dinner, hoping that House might be able to keep them down as the flavours weren't very strong. Unfortunately his stomach proved to be a tad fussier than either of them had realised and he had spent the next hour in the bathroom groaning over the toilet.

The two of them had settled on opposite ends of the couch and were watching TV when they heard a key turning in the lock and Wilson walked in, apologising profusely to Cameron for his delayed arrival.

"There was an emergency with one of my patients, and we had to rush him off to surgery. I'm sorry I didn't even get a chance to call." Wilson explained.

"It's fine, I know what it's like." Cameron assured him. "There's some leftover dinner in the kitchen. It's only grilled chicken and salad, but you're welcome to have some if you're hungry."

Wilson nodded enthusiastically and went to the kitchen to help himself. "So how's he been?" he asked, ignoring the fact that House was still sitting in the lounge and could hear every word said.

Cameron looked at House, trying to catch his eye. House did his usual avoidance technique and refused to acknowledge her, staring blankly at the TV. They hadn't discussed the morphine incident, so she wasn't sure if she should mention it to Wilson or not. She was tending towards the 'not' side of the argument, as House was fully capable of telling Wilson himself, and was entitled to his privacy if he chose not to share that information.

"Fine." Cameron said smoothly, noting with interest the surprised look House had shot at her. He obviously hadn't expected her to lie. Everybody lies. "Dinner was a bit of a disaster, it didn't stay down for long, but everything else is going as expected."

Wilson acknowledged her answer with a "Mm-hmm", and didn't seem to notice the brief hesitation before Cameron's answer and came back into the lounge with a plate piled high with salad and grilled chicken, mouth filled with the aforementioned salad, and settled down on the other couch as they all watched TV in silence for a while.

After the program had finished, Wilson took himself off to have a shower, and House continued looking at the screen as if he was intently interested in the advertisement for a new women's raspberry-scented body lotion that was currently playing.

"Well, I guess I'll be leaving then." Cameron said at the same time House said "Why didn't you tell him."

Cameron didn't need prompting to know that House was referring to the morphine incident from earlier. She shrugged. "It's your business, I figured you should be the one to tell him."

House nodded curtly and flicked his eyes up to meet Cameron's. He wanted to show his appreciation, but he was someone who avoided emotion as much as possible, so as a result, he wasn't well-versed enough in thank-you speeches to be able to aptly convey what he wanted to say.

Cameron, however, was a top student in House Body Language 101, and understood what he was trying to say. "You're welcome." She said with a smile. "But I do think you should tell him." She held up a hand to cut off House's protest. "He's your best friend. I'm sure he's seen you in worse situations. He would want to know. Think about it. It could be good for your friendship, it's what normal friends do."

Cameron gave the advice in good faith, so was not completely expecting the snarking that was shot back at her. "Since when did you decide that you could tell me what to do in my friendships? You might be fulfilling your little girl fantasies by being here while I detox and puke my guts out, but that doesn't mean you can take over my life and start giving me advice on what to do." House said, but without enthusiasm, as if he were simply trying to deflect, and turned his head back towards the TV.

Cameron fought back the impulse to shoot an equally insulting barb back at the surly man sitting at the other end of the couch. She knew he was just frustrated with himself, and after years of ignoring and numbing his emotions with Vicodin, he was probably having a hard time dealing with things at the moment, especially combined with the effects of the detox. She sighed as she got up from the couch and went over to the table where her bag and coat were still sitting. She slipped on her coat as she observed House out of the corner of her eye. She wasn't quite sure what she was hoping for, but whatever it was, it didn't come, as he just continued to pretend to be interested by the advertisements that were still playing on the TV.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow then." Cameron said and walked out the door, not waiting for the reply that she knew wasn't coming.

As soon as she had left, House's blue eyes flicked over to the door. He wanted to be relieved that she was gone, but he felt strangely...well, strange. He couldn't really put a finger on what it was that he felt. Deciding that deep thinking such as this was left for a much better time, such as never, House banished all thoughts from his head and propped his legs up on the couch, as he settled in to watch the 'latest and greatest' crime drama.

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Wilson came out of the bathroom after Cameron had gone and flopped on the couch where he had been sitting previously and the two men sat in silence for a while.

Knowing House well enough to give him a bit of space, Wilson didn't say anything, instead waiting for House to decide that he wanted to talk, which he did, about fifteen minutes later.

"I nearly screwed up today." House said once the program has stopped for an ad break.

Wilson looked curiously at House, but didn't say anything, letting House continue. He wondered what it could be that House was going to tell him, and resolved to try and stay as neutral as possible.

"I, uh, damn it, I wasn't going to tell you this. Damn Cameron, she said it would be good for our friendship." House muttered. "I had an old bottle of morphine stashed away from a while back, and I very nearly used it."

"You what!?" Wilson exclaimed, momentarily forgetting his pact to stay neutral. He took a breath and tried again, speaking calmly so not to put House on the defensive. "Where is it now?" he asked, looking around to see if he could spot the bottle of opiate.

"Cameron got rid of it. I didn't use it. I couldn't. Something stopped me, I'm not sure what."

Now Wilson looked at House curiously, his friend wasn't one to be unsure of something he did. "You must have some idea?" Wilson prodded.

House shrugged. "I don't know. It seemed that as much as I felt that I wanted the pain relief, something was telling me that I didn't need it, that I shouldn't do it."

"That's a good thing." Wilson said, still trying to gauge House's feelings about all this.

House smiled wryly. "I'm just not sure why I'm doing this detoxing and all. It's not like I have anything to live for."

Wilson's face took on an expression of considerable worry. "You're not considering...suicide...are you?" he asked hesitantly.

House shook his head. "I don't want to off myself." He said, repeating the words he had said to Cameron earlier. "I want to live, I'm just not sure what I want to live for," he explained. "Look at me. I'm nearly fifty, I don't have a wife, or even a girlfriend, and you're pretty much my only friend. Even then I don't get why you still stick around, I'm hardly good friend material. I rarely see my parents, and even then I don't get along with my father. No brothers or sisters, therefore no nieces or nephews. My life is pretty much the hospital. I can't really find it in me to care that much about my health, so I guess what I need is another reason to give up the Vicodin. I'm just not sure what that is."

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I guess I kind of ended that on a bit of a depressing note, and there is plenty more angst to come for all you angst fans. And of course a bit of fluff thrown in for good measure...lol. So let me know what you thought and I'll try and get the next chapter up ASAP.

Rhi