When they arrived home from the hospital, they rushed through the downpour and into the house where Cameron had grown up, crowding just inside the back door to wipe muddy feet on the welcome mat. Once inside, the smell of home hit her; that undefinable and unique smell that went unnoticed until returning from a long absence. It made her think of cinnamon and apples and spring lilacs and clean laundry all mixed together with bittersweet memories.

Matt's wife, Shelly, was there to greet them, in her arms a chubby, dimpled baby boy with navy blue eyes and soft brown hair. Except for the eyes, he resembled Matt.

Cameron greeted Shelly with a quick, one armed hug. "I'm soaked," she said, pulling back. "I don't want to get you and Greg all wet."

"That's okay," Shelly answered with a warm smile, adjusting the baby on her hip. "It's just so good to see you."

"It's good to see you too. And this little guy..." She reached out toward Greg and let him grasp her finger in his baby fist. He grinned and buried his face in the crook of his mother's neck, peeking out shyly.

"Do you think you could move this little love fest inside? Matt and I would like to come in too," her mom grouched from behind her.

Cameron sighed and grabbed her suitcase, heading toward her childhood bedroom. "As soon as I dry off, I want to get properly acquainted with Greg," she called over her shoulder. Grinning, her mind went straight to the gutter as she imagined all the ways she wanted to get properly acquainted with Greg House as well. Among other things, she wanted to run her tongue over his Adam's apple and up his neck to his earlobe, and place kisses up his spinal column while her fingers counted his ribs and teased the fine hairs on his chest. She wanted skin on skin, his touch on every part of her. But even more than that, she wanted to know what would make him laugh. Not a sarcastic guffaw, but a spontaneous sincere laugh. Sometimes she wondered if he was even capable of it. His smile was genuine and easy at the monster truck rally, but she had yet to hear him laugh.

Matt was right behind her, heading for the stairs to the second floor, where he, Shelly and the baby were sleeping until their new house was built. The familiar creaking of the steps was like a favorite tune on the soundtrack of her childhood. It would always remind her of Matt, charging up those stairs to his room to get his ball glove or his hockey skates. He never could take them slowly and had a quirky habit of skipping every third step, and tonight was no exception.

Her own bedroom was on the main floor and to the right of the staircase which bisected the hallway between her room and the master bedroom. Nestled between the laundry room and the living room, it was the smallest room in the house. On one end stood a chest of drawers with a mirror above it, and on the other end were matching twin beds sandwiching a nightstand. There was a tiny closet behind the bedroom door, empty aside from a few plastic hangers and some extra linens on the shelf.

The room was familiar in its ultra feminine decor, from the wallpaper with stripes of tiny flowers in pink, lavender and green to the quilts covered in a pattern of dragonflies. Her mom had chosen the wallpaper and quilts years ago, even though Cameron had wanted her room to be painted a light green with comforters that had soft colored squares in greens and yellows and blues. She'd never been given a say in the decorating of her own bedroom, including the twin beds that her dad insisted would be practical for when she had her "little friends over to spend the night." Wishful thinking on his part, she imagined, because she'd never wanted to invite her friends over in the first place.

Plopping her things down on one of the beds, she opened her suitcase and pulled out some yoga pants and a soft white t-shirt to change into. Hanging her wet things on the end of the bed, she then took a few minutes to place her clothes neatly in the drawers, hanging a few pieces and stowing her suitcase in the closet.

Enticing smells were drifting through the house, reminding her that she hadn't had a real meal since...well, since last night when she'd ordered the ravioli and picked at it in dismay, while House had inhaled his puttanesca as if nothing out of the ordinary had passed between them. Somehow that seemed like a lifetime ago.

When she entered the combined kitchen and dining room, her mom was holding the baby and Shelly was placing a meatloaf on the table. Matt had a serving spoon in his hand and looked about ready to devour the entire bowl of mashed potatoes that sat before him. She suspected he'd already snuck a taste or two.

They all sat down to eat, like some sort of sitcom family whose problems would be solved in the space of a half hour, passing around food and talking affectionately. It was all so nauseatingly normal, except for the absence of her dad and the emotional distance from her mom.

Cameron felt like a spectator, an outsider watching the easy interactions of her family. Her mom smiled and cooed at her grandchild as he blinked sleepy eyes at her from his swing in the corner. Matt and Shelly seemed to read each others thoughts, as she piled more food on his plate and he squeezed her hand in appreciation. And the worst was, Shelly and "Jill" spoke like mother and daughter in a way that Cameron had always wished her mom would speak to her. It wasn't that she was jealous of Shelly's relationship with her mom, but their closeness served to highlight the distance that Cameron had always known. She had not been here an hour and already she felt all her old insecurities rearing their ugly heads, like she was suddenly twelve years old all over again.

After helping with the clean up, Matt kissed the baby and Shelly, and went out to the garage to tinker with an old muscle car he was restoring with their dad. Building new things or restoring old ones, Matt had always liked working with his hands, and tonight she knew it was a coping mechanism to distract him from his worries.

Cameron carried a sleeping Greg upstairs to the nursery with Shelly hovering behind her. She gave him a soft kiss, promising to play with him tomorrow, before handing him over to his mom. Shelly placed him in his crib, fussing over him a bit before adjusting the volume on the monitor and shutting off the light just as his little eyes closed in sleep.

They went down to the living room to talk, but Jill was sprawled on the couch watching the local news, so they went to Cameron's room instead and collapsed on the two beds like teenagers at a sleepover.

"You look good," Cameron said, indicating Shelly's slim figure.

"Thanks," Shelly blushed, smoothing her hand over her shirt self-consciously. "You too."

Cameron chuckled at that. "Well I didn't just have a baby." Pausing for a moment, she considered her words. "You look...happy."

"I am. I've got everything I thought I never wanted," she said with a laugh. "I'm not changing the world, but... I love my life. Still, I can't help but envy you a bit. It must be an amazing feeling to help people, save lives."

"It has it's moments. But Shelly, you're changing your corner of the world, and raising the next generation to make it a better place. That's just as important."

Shelly tucked her blond hair behind her ears and smiled. "I hope so. Greg is such an amazing little guy. I can hardly remember what it was like before he came along."

"He's beautiful. Why did you name him Greg?" Cameron asked, plucking at a loose thread on the quilt.

"It was my grandfather's name," Shelly answered simply, staring off into the distance at a memory only she could see. "He was... a really wonderful man. I miss him."

A wonderful man. Those words rattled around Cameron's head for a while. Greg House was also a wonderful man in his own House-like way, but she had a feeling he didn't know how wonderful he truly was. All this distance between them and she couldn't stop thinking about him and missing him. What was the saying? Absence makes the heart grow fonder? If that was true, she was in big trouble, because she didn't think her heart could handle much more fondness where House was concerned.

She and Shelly talked a while longer and then bid each other goodnight.

Cameron went to bed, curling up under the cool sheets and listening to the house settle around her for the night and the sound of the train whistle in the distance. She could vaguely make out some news program on the television--not surprising as her mother was a bit of a news addict with a tendency to nod off on the couch.

When she finally fell asleep, she dreamed of House, his long piano fingers playing a melody against her skin. He strummed her like a guitar, setting her body to humming a sensual tune. His lips were on her, calling forth the sounds of woodwinds; a flute, a clarinet in a sweet and lilting harmony that was both achingly familiar and completely unknown. The notes were coming from her, visibly rising off her body in glorious technicolor, then evaporating in the air like bubbles.

When she awoke she was sweaty, breathless and terribly aroused.