CHAPTER 9

Cameron turned the doorknob in slow motion, afraid of what she would see on the other side. Her first instinct was to expect House standing outside the door, but why now? Why would he suddenly show up at her door? That ship had sailed a long time ago. For a year, every time someone rang the doorbell, every time she heard a motorcycle, every time she saw a tall dark figure out of the corner of her eye, she would get butterflies in her stomach and turn, expecting to find a penitent House ready to love her, ready to take her into his arms. Each time, she would wilt inside as her well of hope slowly dried up. Although she thought of him often, more than often, she no longer expected to see him enter back into her life. And yet, there was no mistaking that knock….

House watched the doorknob turn for what felt like an eternity. The moments he spent waiting for that door to open were among the most torturous he'd ever experienced. He was terrified of what she would see when she opened her door.

The door finally swung open and the two of them set eyes on one another for the first time in 6 long years. Cameron leaned on the doorknob for support as her legs threatened to give way underneath her. "Oh god," she sighed breathily as their eyes locked in an intense, mesmerizing gaze. House's eyes had never been so blue. Looking into them was like being drawn into a long corridor lined with countless doors on either side, all of them locked, and she had always felt the irresistible compulsion to discover the key to the treasures hidden behind them. Their eyes searched one another's so hungrily that they seemed to overlap and become one, caressing, massaging, clutching tightly to the openness they each found in the other. House took an involuntary step toward her and leaned in toward her upturned face. Their breaths escaped as tiny staccato pants, the warmth of which they could feel close to their faces. House swayed toward her, his forehead nearly touching hers, and her eyes rolled into the back of her head and closed gently, intoxicated with the feeling of his face just inches from hers. House swayed back away from her as her eyes slowly opened again and he stared at the ground for a few seconds before saying to her, in a low and gravelly tone, "How are you, Cameron?"

"I'm… fine." She paused, then gently asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you. I've, uh, I've missed you."

Cameron opened her mouth to speak when she was interrupted by the sound of a child crying. She glanced behind her in the direction of the couch, then turned her focus back on House.

"Come in. Sorry, he's sick, I have to just…" She turned away and headed into the living room.

House took a cautious step into the apartment, glanced around, and then walked in and closed the door behind him. He followed behind Cameron to the living room, and hung back in the doorway watching her comfort the boy until his sobs decrescendoed to nothing but unsteady breaths.

"Sorry, he's sick," said Cameron awkwardly.

"That's okay. How old is he?"

"About 2 ½."

"Congratulations," House mumbled to the floor.

"Oh, no, he's not my son. I'm just watching him for the day. His father is in town to give a speech at Northwestern, and he brought Michael with him. I told him I'd watch him for the day."

House's heart lightened at the news that she did not have a child with another man.

She continued. "Actually, he's... he's Chase's son."