A/N: Please forgive me if this is bad. It's my first shot at writing this kind of stuff, and I think I did terribly, so please be kind in your reviews. To be honest, I'd much rather read it than write it. I've changed the rating to M, just in case, but I don't think it's all that graphic. Don't own anything and here it is!

Chapter 9: You can leave now

Cameron sat thinking in her tent, expecting House any minute. She had mulled things over in her head for hours it seemed, and had come up with one conclusion: that he was using her. She had just made up her mind to turn him down when a thought occurred to her.

"Who says I can't use him too?"

That thought made her do a 180. He'd get his all right, and she'd get hers too. The idea of using him for sex appealed to her, and instead of dreading his arrival, she began anticipating it.

The flap of her tent lifted and there he was. He clambered in and sat down across from her.

"Hi."

"Hi yourself," she replied.

"I wouldn't use you, ya know."

"No, I don't know, but I've made up my mind."

"So…?" He eyed her meaningfully.

She took a deep breath as though she were about to say something, and grabbed him, smashing her mouth against his.

She pulled away from him as quickly, feeling overwhelmed by the sheer need she felt and felt from him. He looked surprised, but recovered quickly, and reached for her. She leaned out of reach, catching her breath, and said forcefully, "Strip."

"So that's a yes?"

"Yea, it's a yes." She grinned. "Now shut up and strip."

He complied, and she took the opportunity to take off her own clothing.

They stared at one another for a moment and then the primal need took over.

Then the last bit of rationality in her took over.

"The condom," she managed to gasp out, pulling herself from him.

"It's back in Wilson's tent. In my jacket pocket."

"Never mind. I'm on the pill anyway," she said quickly, and jumped him, eager to feel him and to have him feel her.

Through it all, Cameron managed to take control. She surprised herself. She had never been one to take the lead, but her earlier thoughts gave her the courage to take charge.

She told him where to touch and kiss her, and ignored him completely when he told her to do anything, choosing when she would give a little of what he gave her.

It felt good. And not just the sex itself, but being in control. She had never felt totally in control of anything, especially professionally.

When the time for foreplay had ended, she forced him down, gently, and positioned herself on top of him. She started slowly and worked up a faster rhythm, timed to their harsh breathing.

A little voice in the back of her head, the rational part of her that had been pushed away, made itself heard and reminded her that there were people nearby who would hear a climax, if they hadn't heard their moaning already.

She was close and so was he, so thinking quickly, she clamped a hand over his mouth and grabbed his hand and put it over hers.

She was glad she did it, because she came hard and made noise to match it, and so did he. She knew Wilson had his earplugs, so she wasn't worried about him, but Foreman and Chase, she knew, had left theirs in the car.

She collapsed in a heap on top of him and just breathed and listened to his heartbeat. It was a lovely sound, and she could have listened all night long, but she had promised herself that if she was a one night stand to him, then he was one to her. A shame too, since it had been, quite honestly, the best she'd ever had.

With an effort, she rolled off of him, and turned her body away to put her clothes back on.

"You can leave now."

"Huh?" He felt for his clothes and pulled them on, giving her a quizzical expression, which she couldn't see in the dark.

"Well, it's over. You can go."

"You don't want to talk about it, relive every minute?"

"Nope. It was just one time sex."

"Alison, it doesn't have to be. I don't want it to be."

"I don't know that for sure. You can go, House."

If she had seen his face, she would have seen a mixture of shock, amusement, and if she had looked hard, a touch of hurt and disappointment.

"Good night then Cameron."

"Good night."

He was halfway out the tent, when she called him back.

"House?"

"Yea?"

"No one hears about this…ever."

"You regret it already?"

"There's nothing to say about it. It happened. Good night."

After he left, she cried. She had been so cold, colder than she thought she'd ever been, and certainly more than she'd intended. She hadn't meant to. She had been afraid of being used and she'd gone too far to keep from getting hurt.

So far, in fact, that it had come full circle, and she'd been hurt anyway-by herself no less. He had practically said he wanted a relationship. Maybe she did mean more to him than she'd thought-if he was being honest. Knowing House, it could all be a cruel prank.

"Yes, that's it-it's all a prank…he doesn't care about me at all."

As soon as she thought this, she had doubts; it was all just so confusing. She needed more time to think about everything, get it all straight in her head.

She knew one thing though, she'd been harsh, and it called for an apology. First thing in the morning, she'd pull him aside and apologize, explain her thinking.

To get her mind off of the mess she'd created, she felt the makeshift bandage on her calf. It felt stiff with blood.

"Can't believe we didn't pack a first aid kit."

She smiled at the memory of earlier that day. All of them standing around her, dumbstruck, and House saving the day, so to speak.

He'd taken care of her. That much had been genuine. It gave him a point in the sincerity category, but it wasn't enough to fully convince her that he was serious about her. She sighed, and lay down to go to sleep, to just forget it all for the rest of the night.

In the darkness, she couldn't see the black form outside her tent. That is, until it was too late.

It came in quietly and quickly, and shoved a hot, sweaty, clawed hand over her mouth, smothering her screams. It smelled of earth, mold, and damp, and was bent over inside the confines of the tent. All she could think was:

"It's real. The Jersey Devil is real."

And it had her. The blood. She'd wiped her bloody hand on the grass during their hike. It must have followed the scent, and, thinking her weak, had decided to take her.

She found the strength to kick out at it, and it made a low growl and head-butted her.

Everything went black.

House, meanwhile had gone back to his tent, greeted by Wilson's snoring. He slumped on the ground and replayed the whole scene between him and Cameron in his head. She hadn't been herself. That was for sure. During the sex, it had been nice to see her like that. Not something he was accustomed to, but it was a welcome change.

"She should be more assertive like that at work, the guys wouldn't know what hit them."

Still, she had, if truth be told, hurt him in the end. She had just been so, so…icy.

"Couldn't be the sex. I'm awesome in bed…she was unsure about whether or not I was using her, she made that clear, so….maybe she was pulling the same with me…I'm a one night he had meant what he said, about it not having to be a one time thing. It was up to her though, and he'd wait for her, as long as it took for her to be convinced of his intentions.

He looked in disgust at Wilson, and yanked the frilly sleep mask off his face.

"I told you this was mine," he said, not bothering to keep his voice down as Wilson had the ear plugs in and apparently could sleep through a nuclear war.

He groped around in the dark for his own ear plugs and jammed them in his ears, sighing in relief as Wilson's snoring was reduced to a dull drone. He could deal with that.

He settled in to sleep and tried not to think about Cameron. He was blissfully unaware, as was everyone else, when she was taken away to the lair of the Jersey Devil.

A/N: AHHH!!! It's done and it was bad!! I apologize over and over for its yuckyness. Please R&R and resist the temptation to flame this chapter. I'm doing that on my own. :P