CHAPTER 10

Cameron woke up with a throbbing pain above her neck. She tried unsuccessfully to push herself up time and time again until she finally realized that it wasn't the heaviness in her head that was pulling her down.

There was a weight around her waist.

"House?" she asked disbelievingly when she discovered the cause of the heaviness on her body. After dialing his number in desperation last night, she had finally broken down with all the emotion she'd been holding in over the past week. She couldn't quite remember when she fell asleep, but even if she did, she still would never be able to figure how she ended up in House's arms. Rubbing her eyes, she wondered if the sight before her was a dream or a hallucination.

"House?" she repeated once more.

House had watched her while she slept, not daring to leave her side for a moment despite his increasing need for a dosage of vicodin. Somehow, he thought if he didn't stay awake and held her tight, she would run away without him knowing – just like she almost did. But now that she was awake, her green eyes gazing intently into his, he was at his usual loss for words.

So he remained silent as she slowly wriggled her way out of his embrace.

Both knew that a question was looming over her.

What is he doing here?

The words were almost out of Cameron's mouth when she hesitated and chose to ask the obvious instead. "Is your leg okay?"

She left the room without waiting for his response.

"My leg is never okay." he stated plainly when she returned moments later with the orange bottle that she found next to her opened letter.

"Cameron, we need to talk."

House grimaced as his choice of words rang through his own ears.

Those same words caused Cameron to feel a sudden tinge of hope swell inside her. However, if the events of the past weeks had taught her anything, it would be that the two of them could never turn into the kind of 'us' that could embrace the love she felt for him.

It was time she finally stopped pining for that man.

So leaning against her bedroom wall for support, she started what may be their last argument.

"What is there to talk about, House? I…have to go. I need to be in Boston this afternoon."

"We need to talk." he repeated, ignoring her protest. "Cameron, you're not driving like this. You barely slept."

"Since when do you ever want to talk, House? Just let me go. I meant what I wrote."

"And I meant what I said. You're not driving five hours like this. I haven't approved your resignation, so as of now, you're still my employee and you're going to listen to me!" He ordered angrily through gritted teeth, wondering how he could've ever thought that her stubbornness was appealing.

"What do you want from me House?!"

There was silence.

That's the million dollar question, and House, he didn't quite have the answer.

"House, I'm leaving." The crack in her voice told them both that the argument was over.

She got up.

All he could mange to do was follow her with his gaze as she placed the remaining pieces of her life in Princeton, one after another, in a suitcase that would soon be out of his reach.

It wasn't until he saw Cameron pack away the only remaining item that he finally spoke.

"Dinner."

"Dinner?!" A wide-eyed Cameron exclaimed. Maybe he had wanted to torture her a little longer, or maybe, just maybe, he had wanted her to stay…but never did it occur to her that he didn't want her to leave so they could go and share a meal – something that they had tried and desperately failed.

"Yes, dinner. Tonight. But now you're coming with me to my apartment so you can rest in a proper bed. Tomorrow, you can go wherever you want. I won't stop you."

The sincerity in his voice told Cameron that it was a promise.

She gave in. In their final argument, House still managed to win.

Things never change.

"Why dinner?" she asked in curiosity.

His response was simple, but it was meant to imply so much more. "Because we never did."

"Yes, we did."

"That's different. This time, I'm the one asking."