I never told you that I loved you. That was my biggest mistake. I never told you that I see you. I see even when I'm not awake. I never told you that I hear you. Even when you're not even near. I never told you that I hate you. It was something you could already feel. I never told you how much you disappointed me. Every time you turned around. I never told you because we had so much time.

She fixes her gaze upon the TV screen, tapping her left foot to some imaginary music that she doesn't really hear. A yawn escapes her mouth before she rests her head back against the sofa, wondering if he is going to say anything more to her tonight. Stealing a glance at his form sitting beside her, she finds him absolutely normal. He's watching the TV with ankles crossed on the coffee table, his left hand around the remote while his right lies casually on his right thigh, the closest to her own left thigh.

Her gaze lingers over his hand, studying the long digits, the careful nails, the strong knuckles, the deep, strong veins giving him life. Her heart beats six times before she brings her hand forward and before she loses her courage, places it atop his hand. Needing his touch, she lets her slender fingers find their way through the open spaces between his fingers and lets them lay smoothly on top, waiting for what he will do.

For a single space of breathing, he forgets that he is a rough man. As her hand discovers his, he finds the touch more than electrifying. He finds it comforting and easy, letting him take whatever he wanted from it. His thoughts are in his mind, telling him to draw his hand away from her soft touch, but he doesn't. The hands on the clock click by for more than nine seconds as he struggles to give her what she need while keeping part of himself as well.

While she doesn't expect him to say anything, or even do anything, she can't help but feel the song of slight rejection hum in her ears. That is until his hand very slowly, painfully slow and very much in leisure, curls around the ends of her fingers tips, drawing them towards his palm. She doesn't say anything, she glances at him again, but he hasn't taken his eyes off from the television set. A small smile begins to flare at her lips before she feels him very gently grasp her fingertips once before releasing his strong hold so that her hand, still lying upon his, rests comfortably in the once empty spaces between his tired fingers.

Turning her gaze back to the show on the TV, she continues watching the screen, telling herself that she'll leave at the next commercial.

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He wakes to find a warmth that he hasn't felt in a very long time. In fact, it startles him so much that he nearly rolls over to be rid of it. His body confused, it jerks in response as he realizes why he's so warm. Opening his eyes, he sees the dark, wavy tangle of hair on his chest. He feels her arm across his chest, her left leg slightly thrown over his left leg, her chest rising and falling at the same pace his is. He raises his arms, wondering if he can move her off of him, but then he drops them back down. He watches her, or rather, the top of her head and bits of her nose, cheek, and lips.

Two weeks ago, he had started taking from her. Two weeks ago, he had let her have just the smallest bit of him, but not anymore than that. Watching her breathe so casually on him, he wonders why he let himself do this. He wonders why she wants him and he wonders how long it will be before the new wears off and is replaced by the old, making her realize that she doesn't want him. Tearing himself away from his thoughts, he looks to the clock beside the bed before looking back at the woman sleeping.

"Cameron…Cameron…wake up."

He shakes her shoulder, but she merely moans while dragging her shoulder away, causing her to reach even more around his waist in a near hug. It's the most physical contact they've had in two weeks, mostly because of him, but with her still in the stages of sleep, he savors it.

"Cameron, wake up. You're slobbering on my shirt, I'm going to drown."

"I haven't slobbered since I was seven," she mumbles in her groggy, slow speech before unwrapping her arm from waist and placing it on her side, but making no move to get up from where she is using him as a pillow.

"So, you're lying on a crippled old man…who needs to go to work curing the sick people of the world."

She snorts into his shirt, but does manage to sit up, dragging her shirt over her overexposed back. A yawn escapes her and she places her hand over her mouth and keeps it there as she stares down at him in his sleepiness.

"I didn't hurt your leg did I?"

He frowns at her, not because of her question, but because her hand is still covering her mouth.

"It always hurts. Besides, you were suffocating the good one not the bad one. Why are you covering your mouth?"

She rolls her eyes. "I haven't brushed my teeth."

"Oh, you're right. Keep your hand there."

With a playful smack at his arm, she gets up from the bed and fights a smile as he mockingly howls in pain. She finds his clock, her face suddenly going slack with the realization that she's more than an hour late.

"House…I'm late."

"I'm guessing you're not talking about your bleeding cycle."

Pulling her shoes on, she doesn't even respond to his remark. With a last glimpse of him lying on the bed with eyes closed, she tells herself that if she waits long enough, he'll come to her. And with that in mind, she doesn't go back to kiss him, or to touch his face like she wants to. Instead, she says goodbye and hastily retreats to the real world.

He hears the door shut, quietly reassuring the fact that she has gone from him. Listening to the quiet that is his home, he finds that while he loves it like it was, he also likes what she has brought him. Shaking his head, he distractedly massages his aching thigh before feeling a yawn take him. Slow and without attachment was the way he would do this with her, there was no other way, and there was no other way he could be hurt.

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She pulls into the grocery store, one last stop before she goes to the hospital. Intending to only be few minutes, she leaves everything but a few bills in her car and runs into the store.

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He mutters in his sleep as he finds he can't quite go back to sleep. His leg is throbbing and his mind isn't fuzzy enough to let go of the day. With a grunt, he swallows two of his pills before hobbling to the bathroom.

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Picking up two sandwiches from the deli, she rounds her way to the check out lanes before her, until she hears it and stops in her tracks. The sandwiches fall from her grasp as the man with the gun slowly lowers the gun and points it at a young woman standing in the middle of the aisle. Flight or fight. Fight, she thinks without even hesitating before taking the distance between them and shortening it.

The man never takes his gaze from the dark haired woman who is clearly pregnant, her basket of formula lying forgotten at her feet.

Cameron swallows before taking another step forward, but halts deathly as the gun pivots toward her, his cheek twitching in the motion.

"Lady, get back. This has nothing to do with you. Only me and her."

"You just shot a weapon in a grocery store, sir. I think this involves ever-"

He takes a step forward and she notices the other young woman nearly cowering. Instead of backing down, she doesn't. She stands taller, her gaze dark and powerful as he keeps holding the gun on her. She's terrified. She wants to leave. She wants to walk out of here. But the woman…she stays for her.

"I'm Doctor Cameron. I work at Princeton Plainsboro. You don't want to do this. You don't want to go to jail."

He stands silently still, for one brief moment she thinks he's going to cave. And then…he turns so swiftly she can't even blink before the gun fires.