Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Thanks, as always, to the wonderful people that review this story and keep me motivated to continue. My muse for this story was all over the place, which seems to fit, since the thoughts of the people in this story are also all over the place. The predictions were quite enjoyable to read, I must say, and you shall have your answer soon enough! I'm sorry in advance for the ending of this chapter. Please review - I love hearing what all of you have to say!

He saw her running down the street as fast as she could, and for a moment, he wasn't even sure it was her. He could hear what he thought were strangled sobs piercing the chilly night air as her feet pounded down the cement. He had no idea what she thought she was doing – surely she couldn't be running home from the hospital? She lived too far away for that. Something had to be really, really wrong for her to be running like this. He didn't hesitate a moment longer. Pulling his car over to the side of the road, he leapt out of the driver's side.

"Cameron!"

She didn't turn around immediately, but he saw her stop up ahead. He ran to her. "Cameron, wait!"

She still hadn't moved. Now that he was closer, he approached her slowly, not wanting to startle or scare her. He put his hand on her shoulder and then walked around to face her properly.

She was a mess. Her eyes were red and puffy and there were tears streaming down her face. He dug around in his pocket for a tissue, and upon producing one, he handed it to her. She took it from him with a grateful expression and blew her nose.

"Come on," he said, rubbing her shoulder. "Come on – come into my car. I'll drive you home."

She followed him wordlessly, which surprised him slightly. He hadn't expected her to come so readily, but he didn't question her. He opened the door for her on the passenger's side and then walked around to his side. Within moments, the car was cruising down the street again.

"I'm – I'm sorry," she whispered. It pained him to hear the misery in her voice. "I – I'm sorry you have to see me like this." She let out a choked sob.

"Cameron," he said soothingly, reaching his hand out to pat her arm as he pulled to a red light. "It's okay. Losing a child…it's…well, nothing really compares." He pressed his foot to the gas pedal as the light changed. "I know it must be hard-"

"You know nothing!"

He looked over at her, surprised by her outburst. As soon as she caught his eye, her face crumpled. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Wilson!"

He was a bit alarmed by her outburst, but he didn't comment. Instead he reached out his hand and grasped her shoulder. "It's all right, Cameron," he said softly. "I understand you're really upset…"

"I feel so awful about all of this!" she sobbed. "I just – it's so hard, you know?"

He patted her shoulder reassuringly. "It's hard." He pulled the car in front of her apartment building and turned off the ignition. Cameron didn't move. He cleared his throat. "Do you – do you want me to walk with you inside?"

Cameron looked out the window. "We're here?" Wilson frowned at the note of panic in her voice. Her eyes had suddenly become wide and frightened and he couldn't help but see the trepidation in her face.

"Yes," he answered slowly. She just nodded vaguely. "Cameron?" he asked uncertainly. "Cameron, are you all right?"

"I…I can't be here."

His frown deepened. Something was really wrong. Cameron's face was slowly draining of color and she still hadn't moved from the moment he had turned off the ignition. He tried to think of something to say, something comforting, but he was having trouble focusing. He tried to focus on her, on what she needed right now, but his confusion was taking over his mental facilities.

"Come on," he prodded her gently. "I – I'll walk with you upstairs. You won't have to be alone…Chase is here too, isn't he? I can wait with you if he's not…"

"NO!"

Wilson blinked uncomprehendingly. "No? Uh, okay, I can stay here, and, uh, wait for you to get up to your apartment or something…"

Cameron shook her head rigorously. "No – no! Please – don't leave me here by myself! I don't want to be here, I can't be here!"

"You won't have to be alone," he said slowly. "I can stay here with you if Chase isn't here, and then I can leave once he gets here-"

For a moment, she looked horrified at the very idea, but the next second, her expression changed completely. She was no longer shaking her head, but nodded, just nodded, not in an expression of consent, but in thought. He could tell by the way her eyes softened and by the deep breath she let out that something had just dawned on her.

"Cameron?"

"I'm – I'm sorry, Wilson," she said softly. "You don't have to stay here; I'll be fine by myself."

He didn't know it was possible to be more confused than he had been before, but now he was. Cameron was making no sense. Her mind seemed to be all over the place, the pieces scattered about by losing the baby. Following them, trying to catch all of them, and make sense of what they were saying, was dizzying. He tried to make sense of them, but she was only scattering them more.

"Are you – are you going to be okay here by yourself?"

She nodded quickly. "Yes, I'll be fine." As if to demonstrate her resolution, she opened the passenger side door, stepped out, and walked around the front to her building. Wilson hesitated a second, and then opened the door to his side as well.

"Cameron!" he called out.

She turned around. "Yes?"

He didn't know how to say it, but he knew it had to be said. He wanted to ask her so many things, he wanted her to quell the absurd idea that he just erupted inside of him, but he knew that he couldn't ask her outright. She had been asked so many times, had said no so many times, he didn't want to pester her. He opened his mouth and then closed it slowly. "You – you know that if you ever need to talk about anything, you can talk to me, right?"

She stared at him a moment, and then nodded wordlessly and turned, scampering to her apartment building door.

He stared after her as she ran, but didn't call out to her again. The fog was beginning to clear in his mind, and he could see now that common denominator that directed the way that all those pieces had scattered. Maybe she wasn't nearly as unpredictable as he had thought. And maybe he was wrong, too, about the reason the pieces were scattered. Maybe it wasn't the miscarriage at all – or at least, that wasn't the main cause. Somehow, it became clear now, clear exactly what she had done and why, and why she had been so afraid to go into her apartment.

He didn't want to think about it, he didn't want to admit he had been wrong; it horrified and shocked and hurt that he could have missed something so important, so crucial. This was life or death and he had been too caught up in abating House to notice what was right under his nose the entire time. He pulled out his cell phone, fumbling with the numbers, until he had finally punched in the right combination. He listened to it ring, and then a deep voice answered.

"House."

"House, it's Wilson," he began shakily. He still couldn't believe he was saying this. "I – It's Cameron."

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She opened her door, let herself inside, and closed it quickly. Her apartment was dark; no one was there. She leaned her back against the door and let herself sink to the floor, her head in her hands.

How could she have been so stupid? She had nearly given herself away to Wilson just now. She hadn't been thinking straight. It was too much to hope for that Wilson wouldn't have noticed anything. He had to have noticed something. Wilson was sensitive. He was smart. He picked up on everything. He read people like he read books – avidly and attentively.

Her mind was so full it felt almost empty. She felt numb, unable to feel any more emotions because there were just so many to feel. They blocked each other out, canceling out all feeling inside of her. She didn't know what to think right now. She didn't know what she was supposed to do. She figured Wilson would probably tell someone about his suspicions, but she wasn't sure how she was supposed to feel about that. She knew somewhere in the numbing mess of feelings, she could draw upon them, but she was just too tired to sort through them all.

She was tired, so tired of everything. She wanted out of it all. She wanted to run and never look back. If only it were that easy – easy enough to break away from everything. If she could run and leave the miscarriage behind her, if she could run and leave Chase behind, and the suspicions, and the questions, and everything else she was just so damn tired of…she would.

It was never that easy. It was never going to be that easy. She was going to have to do something for herself, decide what she wanted to do. It was her choice now. She could wait for Chase to come back, or she could leave. She could run away. It was in her power to leave. She could leave, she could pack her stuff, she could run and never look back. She could move away, maybe she could move to the west coast, and maybe she could just disappear, and then she could just be gone. And it could be that easy.

She could leave, she was going to leave. She was going to get up and pack her things, and run away. She was going to leave without saying goodbye because that would just make it harder to leave. She could take her money and go to the airport and buy the first plane ticket out, and then never return. She could leave. She could be set free.

But she couldn't. She couldn't. She was a bird in a cage, a trapped bird in a tiny cage, and she was never going to be set free. He was always going to find her, he was going to hurt her, he was going to kill her if he got the chance. He wasn't just going to let her leave. He would always be after her. She was never going to be safe.

She staggered slowly to her feet, leaning on the door for support. She frowned when her hand touched something unfamiliar. It didn't feel like wood. She ran her fingers over it again. It definitely wasn't wood. She moved her fingers over to the wall and flicked the light switch. A scream escaped her lips.

Dried blood stained the door. It stained the door, it stained the walls, and it stained the floor. Bile rose in her throat and she couldn't even try to fight it down. Her blood mixed with the emptied contents of her stomach and she collapsed to the ground as her tears and everything else came rushing back to her.

Here it was again, another sign. This wasn't someone else's blood like she saw in her work at the hospital. This was her blood, her blood, and it was staining her floor. This was her blood and it had spilled from her because Chase had beaten her. She couldn't stay here, she couldn't stay here! What if Chase came back and decided to beat her more? What if he killed her this time? This blood, this blood on the floor, this was how her baby had died. The baby had died in this attack, and here was the reminder. She was haunted. The death of her only child was ingrained on her floor, on her walls, on her door. She had touched it. She had touched her own blood, the blood she had lost while she had been beaten unconscious and while her baby had been murdered.

She leapt to her feet, tears streaming down her face, and ran to her bedroom. She looked around the room quickly and then grabbed her car keys and her wallet from her dresser top. She didn't think to bring anything, but only knew she had to leave as quickly as possible. She had to get out of here. She couldn't be here any more. Maybe she would come back, and maybe she wouldn't, but she didn't are. All she knew was that she couldn't stay.

She was out the door moments later and dashing down the stairs. She was running blindly, running from anything and everything she could run from. She was so distracted she wasn't paying attention to where she was going. Cameron felt her breath escape her as she ran into something warm and solid.

"Cameron!"