A/N: Oh god, I am the most awful person in the world. Sooooo sorry it took so long for me to update, I got sidetracked. looks guilty Anyway, apologies for the slightly vague chapter, but all will be explained soon, me pretties. Remember to review, because it makes me happy. Pweeese?

Disclaimer: I do not own House. Don't you people know that slavery is illegal in all 50 states?



Chapter 9

"What the hell is this?" Cameron yelled, throwing the magazine at Chase. It was opened to the electronics section, and an iPod nano had been circled in bright red marker. Chase barely glanced at it before tossing back to the woman and going back to his charts.

"That would be what I plan on buying with my winnings."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You'd better be talking about some other bet you've taken."

"Nope." He smirked in her direction. "You've got two days, Cameron. And then I'll be relaxing with my brand new iPod."

"What?! We never set a time limit!" Her shrieks brought Foreman into the conference room. Immediately, she whirled on him. "When did we decide on a time limit?"

Foreman shrugged and pick at his nails. "We didn't. Chase and I just figured you could use a little…encouragement. You know, get this bet over with so we could get our money."

Cameron gaped. First at Foreman, then at Chase. "You…I…you can't just add to a bet like that!"

"It's a good thing House went home already," Chase muttered. "He'd have beaten you with his cane for saying that."

"And I bet she would have liked it!" The two men cracked up, oblivious to the anger that was boiling up inside their coworker.

"I'm going home! I hope you both choke on your tongues!" Cameron stomped out of the office, grabbed her coat from her locker and stormed to her car. It took every ounce of strength in her to resist keying Foreman's car. Bastard.

It was only six thirty, but her eyes felt like lead weights and she just wanted to sleep. Well, she'd rather be cuddling with House by a warm fire, but as that would never happen in any dimension, she supposed sleep would have to do.

House.

He'd left the hospital around four, and his sad eyes and slow gait had not escaped her attention. She had contemplated going after him, but by the time she'd made up her mind, he was long gone. Damn indecisiveness.

Her thoughts drifted once more to the drunken bet. God, that was stupid. Unfortunately, Chase and Foreman would never let her back out now. And she was rather curious; why did House insist on her making his coffee or standing quite so close? It was all a confusing mess, a jumble of muted flirtations and unspoken innuendos. Frankly, she was tired of it. Allison Cameron wanted answers. And this bet was just a proactive way to get them.

Yes, she'd just keep telling herself that while she ignored the guilty feelings that churned in her gut.

Stopping at a red light, she felt her determination rise once more. Fuck this, she could do it. She'd prove Chase and Foreman wrong, she'd prove 'em all wrong. House liked her. He must. Maybe. And even if he didn't, well, at least she'd know for certain. The light turned green and she found herself pulling a u-ie and barreling down a road she'd grown all too familiar with.

When her fist met with House's door, she was expecting to hear piano drifting through the wood, just like always. There was none. Nor was there an answer. Knock knock.

"House?" Cameron called quietly. She turned the knob slowly, praying to a god she didn't believe in that everything was all right. Call it a sixth sense, but she could always tell when something bad was happening.

The door creaked open, and a soft breeze from a cracked window rustled through her hair. Her eyes took in the bottle of scotch sitting open on the piano and the cane that had rolled under a hall table. And the body of her boss collapsed on the floor.

"House!" she cried, rushing to his side. Quickly checking his pulse, her heart skipped a beat knowing that his was still pumping, and that he was still breathing, though shallowly at best. The pill bottle he clutched in his right hand confirmed her suspicions of an overdose. Fuckin' House.

Somehow, she deduced somewhat frantically, she had to get House into his bed. Well, really, she didn't have to, but her conscience was insisting upon it. As she wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him to a sitting position, Cameron couldn't help but shiver when her fingers brushed the bare skin of his stomach.

She tugged brusquely. House did not move. She tried dragging him across the floor by his arms, but abandoned the tactic when she remembered how easily she might dislocate his shoulders. She'd almost worked up a sweat. Legs, she thought. Pull him by the legs. Cameron whispered an apology before gripping his ankles and pulling him down the hall. House would be feeling that in his bad thigh tomorrow. By the time she reached his bedroom, exhausted, Allison noticed his pants had been pulled down to his groin, revealing tanned skin and boxer-briefs.

In her mind, she formed an idea. A very bad idea. She ignored her ethical meter, though her fingers trembled as she unbuttoned his shirt…