I just want to take a second here to thank all of the wonderful people who have been reviewing not only this story but all my others as well. You probably have no idea what a big smile it brings to my face to read a thoughtful and happy review. The fact that I still get reviews for "Saints and Saviors" is a total thrill, and this week, which was a particularly crappy one for me in terms of my health (damn lupus) I got a handful for it and also one for one of my personal favorites, "The Sweater", and the even the little MRated short I posted a week ago! Thank you all so much. Writing is one of my joys, but having such great response makes it that much sweeter.

And now onto the story... as I go further and further from canon, in terms of what is known about the characters' histories, it becomes a real tightrope walk for me. I only hope that you find my take on things to be a realistic one and that I do justice to these characters I've become so fond of.

Chapter 9

Pop.

Pop.

House had forgotten how much he hated feeling of the pressure in his ears equalizing during take-off. He was counting the minutes until they'd reach cruising altitude and the cabin crew could start wheeling those lovely little drink carts around. At the moment, he was beginning to think that spiking Cameron's with Vicodin might be a good idea.

"Did you remember your toothbrush?"

It was the fifth inane question in less than ten minutes, and House just stared at her for a second before replying, "I don't know, Cameron, maybe I should crawl through to the cargo hold and check the luggage."

Her lips gathered into a pout and she lowered her eyes. "Sorry. Nerves," she mumbled.

Slowly, he closed his eyes and reminded himself that he was the one who had wanted to come, and not for himself, but as support for her.

"Yeah, I guessed that from the way you've been channeling my mother."

"Sorry," she repeated.

He looked around and then rolled his eyes at himself. Who the hell was he thinking would see them, and why did he even care? He huffed out a breath of air and let his arm fall casually over the armrest, capturing Cameron's hand where it lay on her thigh.

"We've got a few hours to kill. Any ideas, because I hear the in-flight movie sucks."

Her expression relaxed slightly and she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "The in-flight movies always suck," she said.

"I'd suggest making out, but I think grandma across the aisle would have a coronary and I'm off-duty."

A tilted little smile showed Cameron's amusement but she followed it up with a quick eye-roll and a whispered "House!"

That reaction made him chuckle deviously. "Didn't anyone tell you? You can't take me anywhere."

"Except home to meet my parents," she replied sarcastically but with that tiny smile still in place.

"Well, yeah, I'll try to behave for that," he said, but then goggled his eyes and made a face.

Cameron stuck out her tongue at him, but then a flash of nervousness reappeared on her face and she turned her head to look out the window. House saw it anyway and his ever-flexible features resumed their normal expression. He nudged her gently with his shoulder.

"I'm not along for the ride just to embarrass you," he told her.

When she looked at him, another little smile pulled the right corner of her mouth. "I know. I'm glad you're here."

"Good. Now, are you going to tell me more about the Cameron clan? I have a limited amount of time to memorize everyone's name," he snarked lightly.

"There actually won't be many people," she replied. "Just my parents, brother, sister, their spouses, and my brother's two girls."

House quirked up one eyebrow. "I figured you'd have a dozen little Cameron-spawn nieces and nephews."

That got him a little shrug. "I think taking care of me was enough for my sister, Kathy," she said, letting her gaze drift towards the front of the cabin.

"I can't imagine you were much trouble," House said, giving her another gentle nudge.

"No, but having to take your little sister everywhere from school shopping to dance classes to Trick-or-Treating and then being the on-call babysitter even when you move out probably gets old fast."

House didn't have anything to add, so he stayed quiet. Being comforting still wasn't something he was any good at. Cameron sensed that he was suddenly uncomfortable and realized he probably thought he was supposed to be saying something.

"We're closer now," she assured him. "Talk once a month or so. Sometimes we email. She got married when I was twelve, to a nice guy. Frank. They both went into real estate and they do pretty well."

"And your brother?"

"Tom's two years older than Kathy. He was a good brother. I mean, he didn't tease me unmercifully or anything," she said. "By the time I was four, he was out of the house and enlisted in the Air Force. Went career, and now he's back living in town with his wife Cheryl and their kids, Lizzie and Sara. He works for a car dealership and she stays home with the girls."

"Sounds like the all-American family," House said, trying not to sound sarcastic.

"Pretty much," Cameron replied, staring out the window again. "Kathy was homecoming queen and prom queen two years running. That first time I went Trick-or-Treating, I went as a princess and she let me wear her crown."

"I'm sure you were just adorable." House did try to infuse some snark into his words this time, to lighten the mood, and she smirked at him just as he'd hoped she would.

"I'll have to dig up a picture if my parents have one," she said, sticking out her tongue again.

She slipped almost immediately back to her more subdued tone and House found himself rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. He didn't like seeing her so painfully introspective.

"Anyway," she went on, "Tom was on the football team, and practically every other team too, and then my dad was really proud of him for joining the force."

Silence settled over them and House felt the need to break it.

"I take it you weren't the cheerleader, prom queen type."

"Not exactly."

"It's tough being the black sheep of the family because you got straight A's. Ostracized because you're a brilliant doctor instead of the local kindergarten teacher," he said, sounding a bit gruffer than he meant to.

"What?" she was surprised by his words and the tone in his voice, and pulled her hand away from his. "I never said anything like that." She shook her head and forced him to meet her gaze.

"But that's how you feel," he pressed on, because words of brutal honesty, even if they weren't necessarily true, still tumbled out much more easily than words of comfort.

"No, it's not. I don't feel sorry for myself and if I'd known that's what you thought, I wouldn't have asked you to come." She pressed herself into the corner of her seat, as far from him as possible.

He felt like an ass. Well, as fuck-ups went, this was a good one. He'd have to phone Wilson and tell him that whatever bet he had with Cuddy could be settled now.

"If you never felt sorry for yourself, then what did you feel?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady and low.

Her left shoulder rose in a half-hearted shrug but she turned and looked at him instead of keeping her eyes pinned to the passing clouds.

"Lonely."

Yes. He was an ass.

"I'm sorry," he said, and for practically the first time, the words came out unbidden with no inner debate about whether or not he should lower himself to apologize. "Sometimes I talk just to hear the sound of my voice. You may have noticed that."

She was surprised by the naked regret that appeared in his eyes. They were always the first things she looked at when she was trying to read him. They never lied to her.

"Yeah, once or twice," she said, slowly unclenching.

He reached over and grabbed her hand again before leaning towards her and saying, very lowly, "I don't want you to feel lonely this time."

Her tense fingers relaxed under his and he was grateful, not for the first time, that she was so quick to forgive. They were quiet again, but this time he was afraid to say anything to break the silence even when it felt like a wall between them. He just didn't know how. Cameron did it for him.

"You only asked for names. I gave you their life stories. You must be horribly bored. I know how much you hate listening to trivial nonsense."

He briefly squeezed her hand in silent gratitude. She knew he wasn't good with words of comfort, so this time she'd provided her own.

"Yeah," he snarked in agreement. "You always were the overachiever. At least you left out their medical histories. I would have had to ask one of the flight attendants for sedatives."

Cameron chuckled at his words, and House could feel her hand begin to relax under his. She resettled in her seat, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. House stared at her for a few minutes. Just when he thought she'd gone to sleep, he felt her hand turn, and she curled her fingers lightly with his.

The flight touched down in Milwaukee at a little past ten a.m., just two and a half hours after leaving Newark. Cameron had ended up keeping her eyes closed for much of the time, and House wasn't sure if she'd actually slept, but at least she looked a bit more relaxed now then she had at take-off.

Gathering up their luggage and finding the main entrance to the airport had taken another half hour, and they were gratefully seated in the lounge area while they waited for Cameron's father to arrive. He was going to ring Cameron's cell phone when he pulled up out front so that he wouldn't have to park. The amount of waiting time allowed in that drop-off/pick-up lane was very limited and so they were situated near the doors in order to make a quick exit.

House was watching the news on one of the half-dozen televisions suspended from various pillars, and Cameron had her phone out and was fiddling with the ring-tones. It was mildly annoying, and something House would expect more from himself, but since it seemed to be keeping her calm, he refrained from snatching the phone from her hands.

When the triumphal march from "Aida" blared through the tiny little speakers five minutes later, he only jumped a little.

"Dad?" Cameron quickly answered the phone and listened for a few seconds. "Okay, we'll be right out," she said and flipped the phone shut.

"Let me guess, he's outside," House remarked, flippantly.

Normally, Cameron might have made her own snappy reply, but this time she just said, "Yes, he just pulled up," and started gathering her pocketbook and rolling suitcase.

House grabbed his cane, stood up and then extended his hand to her in an unusual show of chivalry. She looked at it, and then at his face, watching the subtle emotions at play there. His hand was strong and he pulled her up easily, then held on for just an extra moment.

"All set?" he asked, but the words held so much more meaning; showing his support and concern.

"Good to go," she replied, feeling as if she was ready to face just about anything with him next to her. He'd already seen her through some of the worst times of her life, and now he was with her even through the mundane daily trials.

They walked through the wide sliding glass doors with House just a step behind her, and Cameron spotted her father standing on the curb beside his truck-like SUV. She gave a little wave, and headed over.

Lowering his head, House trailed after her, jaw working furiously, hand clenching on cane and suitcase. He had expected to feel awkward but now he actually felt nervous. Apparently meeting the girlfriend's father never got easier.

"Allison!" The grey-haired but still vital looking man extended his arms, and Cameron let her suitcase stand on its own as she moved in for a hug.

House noticed how large the man was in comparison to the fine-boned Cameron. His shoulders were wide, his stance sturdy and straight, and his chin easily cleared Cameron's head. He also noticed the almost tentative nature of the hug, with burly arms wrapped loosely around slender shoulders, a gentle pat given and then a quick step back.

"Good to have you home. Your mother would have been upset if you'd stayed away." The man shifted his gaze from Cameron's face and turned towards House. With hand extended he greeted him. "You must be Greg. I'm Walt, Allison's dad. You probably figured that out."

Greg. Right. People here were going to expect first names. House recovered quickly and took the man's hand, shaking it in that solid, manly way, but not squeezing hard enough to be seen as a challenge. It was strange to note that Walt could have been his father, and in fact resembled him quite a lot with his deep-set eyes and stone-cut features.

"Good to meet you," he said, his manner quickly lapsing into the polite one he only brought out for special occasions or to make Cuddy think he was up to something.

"Hurt the leg in the service?" Walt asked, motioning to House's cane.

"Dad!"

Well, that was unexpected. He didn't know if he'd thought Cameron would have explained it or not, but the idea that it would be brought up so casually and bluntly hadn't occurred to him. Cameron -- Allison -- was looking mortified and a little scared. He caught Walt's eye and held it.

"Nope, nothing so dramatic," he said. "Bad luck and a blood clot. A good war story would probably sound better," he continued, just a shade of his normal sarcasm seeping in.

Walt appeared satisfied with that and nodded his head sympathetically. "Looks like you still manage all right."

"Dad…" Cameron said again, pleadingly.

"I get by," House replied.

Another nod from Walt and the subject was closed. He reached for Cameron's suitcase while hitting the hatch release on his key ring, and a minute later the three of them were on the road and headed for a small town an hour away.

House had climbed into the back seat, despite his leg, in order to give Cameron and her father a chance to talk, but the ride remained mostly silent. There were a few questions about how she was doing, and work at the hospital, but then he started talking about the farm, the town, and Cameron's siblings. There was some talk about sports, which House took as an attempt to pull him into the conversation. Football was a sport, and he never had trouble talking about sports, but his responses were mostly short, with no elaboration. Watching Cameron become more introverted as the city gave way to the suburbs and then to fields and lightly rolling hills took most of his attention.

When Walt turned into a long dirt driveway, House started looking around with interest. The farm wasn't exactly as he'd pictured it with red barn and white fencing and little white farmhouse right next to it. The house itself was white, and set in a perfect square of grass, bordered by a wide field on the right and the drive way and dirt driveway and barnyard to the left. The house had a large front porch and wide steps flanked by now-dead flowers, but the barn wasn't red, it was covered with pale grey aluminum siding and set quite a distance from the house. Farm equipment was lined up outside it, and the fields behind it were surrounded by yellow-tape electric fencing.

"There's your mother now," Walt said, pointing towards the porch. Apparently the woman had heard the sound of the engine and the rumble of rubber over gravel. He pulled to a stop beside the grass. "You two get on in the house and I'll pull around to the garage," he said, leaving the engine running.

Cameron glanced over at House, but he didn't have any trouble climbing out of the back seat and they met at the rear of the SUV. The hatch was unlocked and they pulled out their suitcases and headed for the porch. Cameron was in the lead again, and House watched her mount the porch steps to be enveloped in her mother's embrace.

The woman was talking a mile a minute and House couldn't contain a small grin. Cameron didn't often ramble, but it was now obvious that when she did, it was a trait passed down by her mother.

"Greg!" She exclaimed as House made his way to the top step, suitcase banging up behind him. "I'm Helen, Allison probably already told you that. It's good to meet you! I'm so glad she convinced you to come."

She held out her hand, and House took it while studying her features, thinking that he could see the shadow of Cameron within them. Her hair was still mostly dark, probably through the help of a dye, but cut to her chin, and feathered back in that style which seemed to be favored by ninety percent of women over a certain age. The eyes were almost identical to Cameron's, shading from bright blue to a more muted grey as a cloud drifted in front of the sun. Her features were delicate although she was overall taller and bigger than Cameron, and the hand within his was rougher but he felt the same long fingers which had been entwined with his on the plane.

"Yes, Allison can be very persuasive," House replied, giving a quick teasing glance in Cameron's direction.

"Well come inside. It's freezing out. We're expecting snow this weekend, but of course it won't stop the big football game on Saturday," she went on talking as the three of them entered the warm house which already smelled of turkey and sweet potatoes. "You can take your bags upstairs, Allison, you know the room." Helen paused and looked at her daughter again, lovingly but with a critical eye. "You know you really should cut your hair. You're not fifteen anymore," she said, reaching out to tuck chestnut strands behind Cameron's ear. "And I don't think you're eating enough. Are you working too hard?" Her voice lowered in volume. "Or is your accident still bothering you?"

House had wondered if Cameron had told her parents about her second surgery. There had been no flowers from them, and no card. Now he had his answer, along with the reason.

"Wasn't actually much of an accident," he blurted out. "She didn't stumble into the bullet. A punk asshole attacked her."

Helen and Cameron both looked shocked, and House snapped his mouth closed.

"I'm sure I didn't mean anything by that," Helen said, looking from House to Cameron. "I'm just glad you're okay, baby." She pulled Cameron close again and kissed her cheek lightly.

"We'll go up and get settled, and be down in a few," Cameron said, taking a deep breath. "When will the others be arriving?"

"Half an hour or so," Helen said, seemingly happy to move on to a new subject. "You two take your time."

House was the first to head for the stairs this time, needing a minute to gather himself together and remember that he was supposed to be on his best behavior.

"First door on the left," Cameron said, from behind him, going slowly as he made his way up the staircase. "Sorry about all the stairs," she continued, as if the architecture of her parents' home was her fault.

The dark wood stained door squeaked as House pushed it open, and he limped inside to find a neat, organized little bedroom, with quilt-covered sleigh bed, and Thomas Kinkaid prints on the walls.

"So was this your room?" House asked, wanting to forget the small scene downstairs and hoping to avoid talking about it. "Because boinking in your childhood bed would break a few taboos." He sat down on the edge of the bed and bounced lightly while leering at her.

Cameron rolled her eyes, just happy that when it was just the two of them, she felt she could breathe again. "No. This isn't the house I grew up in. This farm is a lot smaller. They moved here when I went to college. I think they could have retired but Dad's so used to keeping busy that I don't think he'd know what to do with himself without a farm. They have a few people who do most of the daily work now, and he just oversees things."

She sat down on the bed next to him and jerked a little when he reached up and brushed her hair back unexpectedly. He stared at her, with eyes as serious as she'd ever seen them, and she looked at him questioningly.

"I like your hair," was all he said.

It shouldn't have made tears prick the backs of her eyes, but it did, and she blinked quickly a few times. "Thanks," she replied with a crooked smile pulling at her lips. "That's good to know."