He could feel the man's glare on the back of his neck. Like little tendrils dancing across his collar, he felt the steady beam of hatred being blasted his way, sending a shiver of nerves down his spine. Chase gulped audibly, staring down at the table before him, desperate to pretend that House's glare wasn't as unnerving as it was.

Boy, was he bad at pretending.

"Do you have a case for us," Foreman suddenly chimed in, breaking the uncomfortable silence, "or are you just going to stare at Chase all day?"

House, who had been standing in the corner death-glaring at Chase, didn't even turn to acknowledge Foreman as he spoke,

"Forty year old male. Vomiting, fainting, rash, and nonstop coughing."

Foreman opened his mouth, as if to give his differential guess, but House cut him off with,

"Chase," he said the name like it was a curse word, "go run an MRI. And a tox screen. And go run the gauntlet of blood tests.

"And, hey, while you're at it why don't you test for some STDS? After all, I know for a fact you've had lots of experience with those."

Everyone dropped their jaws, staring at him in shock, and Chase's face turned a rosy shade of red. House smirked before adding,

"Tests, that is. You've had lots of experience running tests." Chase opened his mouth, only to close it again. House sighed in annoyance before shouting,

"Didn't you hear me? Scurry away, wombat!" Hesitating only a moment longer, Chase finally jumped up and left the room in a huff. Foreman watched with mild interest, his eyebrows raised questioningly.

"What was that all about?" he asked with a soft laugh. Cameron didn't say anything, instead just glaring at House. She knew exactly what that was about.

"What? He's a big boy, I'm sure he can handle it himself. Why don't you go scuttle off to the clinic or something," he murmured to Foreman, who slowly got up with a roll of his eyes before exiting the room. Cameron sat stock-still at the table, refusing to face him. House watched her in silence, all too aware that this was the first time the two had been alone together since the end of their relationship.

Affair, he corrected himself mentally. An affair is not a relationship.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, breaking the silence. She still refused to face him. He sighed, twirling his cane between his hands thoughtfully. Silence stretched over them before he finally spoke.

"Don't see him."

She breathed in slowly, deeply, before asking sharply,

"Why?"

Her tone was demanding, angry. How dare he demand such a thing from her?

He turned away, glancing out the glass wall into the bustling hallway.

"You're too good for him."

Cameron let out a short, angry laugh.

"Who should I see, then, hmm?" She sounded so tired, and for the first time that night he truly looked at her face. Her eyelids weighed down, and her concealer was thick over the bags under her eyes. Her hair was thrown in a slightly frazzled ponytail and her pupils were rimmed with red. Perhaps she was missing as much sleep as he was.

"Don't see him," he said again, his voice almost a whisper. His tone was almost pleading and, for just a brief second, she almost wanted to give in. But control returned and she shook her head, pushing herself up from the table.

"That's not your call to make, House."

He turned away, unable to watch her as she left him.

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She found him in the labs, actually running all the ridiculous and unnecessary tests House had ordered.

"Hey," she managed weakly, awkwardly.

"Hey stranger," he replied and she instantly grimaced. His words were an echo of House's, back from what felt like so long ago in her old lifetime of secret affairs and grumpy cripples. She pushed down the rush of nostalgia and nausea, however, as she approached him.

"So, need any help?" Chase smiled at her, a look of relief dancing across his face.

"Please. I don't know what is wrong with House, but I think he's trying to kill me with all this work." She knew what was wrong with House, but opted not to mention it. Taking a sample of blood, she moved over to the microscope to examine it.

The room fell into a comfortable silence.

"Cameron," Chase murmured after a few minutes, and she turned to meet his eyes.

"About the other night…" She groaned internally, absolutely loathing the idea of discussing that.

"Look, Chase--" she began, but was cut off by his interruption of,

"No, Cameron. Don't. Don't just dismiss it immediately, ok? Please, let me speak first." She fell silent, allowing him to say what he needed to say.

"I like you, Cameron. A lot. I have for a while now, actually," he moved over to her now, taking her hand.

"And I don't really know what to say about the other night, but… I just… I want to give us a try." She stared up at him, at his wide, pleading eyes. He was so earnest, so innocent.

He wasn't what she wanted. She wanted grumpy, misanthropic, dismissive. Not kind, caring, and attentive. Chase had a pretty face, sure, but there was no depth beneath the surface. There was no evil mastermind, no mysterious puzzle.

"I don't know, Chase," she managed weakly. He shook his head earnestly, saying,

"Look, why don't you just think about it? How about we have dinner tonight, we can talk about it? Please?" He was almost begging and she found herself in thought.

No, he certainly wasn't what she wanted, but he clearly wanted her. What she wanted had shunned her, had sent her away like a common whore. Chase wouldn't do that; Chase truly, deep down, wanted her.

And right now, Cameron needed to be wanted.

"Alright. How about we have dinner at my place tonight, say around nine?"
His smile grew to a ridiculous size, so huge that she found herself smiling in return.

"It's a date," he supplied with a cheery laugh, squeezing her hand gently. She let out a soft chuckle as well. You can do this, she thought. You can move on.

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Wilson found him lurking around the lab, a permanent glower etched into his face. He stood silently beside him for a few minutes, following House's eyes to the source of his anger. He was glaring into the lab at Cameron and Chase as they worked together to finish all the tests.

"Why are we glaring at your ducklings?" he asked lightly, his eyes dancing from House's face to the two fellows.

"I assigned the tests to him for a reason," he spoke now to no one in particular, and Wilson knew to just silently listen, "it was a solo mission. Singular. Him alone. She shouldn't be helping him."

"Oh yes, it's a travesty, that girl helping him with his work," Wilson murmured, shaking his head mockingly. "Those heathens."

House turned, glaring at him bitterly, before fixing his gaze back on her. Wilson stared at him for a moment, a look of shock slowly creeping across his face.

"Are you pouting?" Wilson asked incredulously, staring at him as if he was insane. House just crossed his arms, turning away.

"No," he said in a whiny voice, obviously pouting.

"Oh my… House, you're seriously pouting." Wilson was beyond bewildered. He'd never seen House like this before and he once more glanced through the glass wall at Cameron as she stared intently into a microscope, seemingly unaware of their presence a few yards away.

Wilson stood there silently for a moment, studying House's face before slowly murmuring,

"You really did have something with her, didn't you?" House didn't respond as he stood there, refusing to take his eyes from Cameron as she bent over the microscope. He felt his blood boil as he caught sight of Chase subtly peering at her curves as she innocently worked.

"It didn't work out," he all but growled as he watched the wombat with pure hatred, wanting nothing more than to go in their and rip him to shreds. A wave of territoriality hit him, his only thought being only I get to look at her like that. Wilson sighed knowingly, saying,

"And by that you mean you chased her away."

"I'd like to think we parted amicably," House supplied weakly, his eyes betraying him as they ran over her body as well, taking in the sight of her curves. For the briefest of moments, the thought of just barging in there and taking her, right there against the work desk in plain view of Chase and the entire hospital, crossed his mind. But his mind trailed back to that night two days ago, when he'd tried to take her in a lab.

Much to his own disgust, her rejection stung him in a way he'd never anticipated.

This was ridiculous, after all. He was the one who had broken them apart. She'd wanted more, and he wouldn't give it. House chose to end things, and sadly that meant no more of her.

No more late night calls, no more coffee in bed. He wasn't allowed to touch her anymore, which he felt sudden cravings for. And, worst of all, he couldn't fall asleep to the sound of her gentle breathing or the feel of her arms wrapped around him. Never in all his life had he ever needed someone else there in order to fall asleep.

Never.

House was an independent man; he didn't need someone to perform such a basic human function. And yet, since that night she had almost gone home with Chase, he had been completely unable to sleep. His bed was too cold now, too large for just him. A part of him had always been missing, a part he didn't even know he needed, and the moment Alison Cameron stepped in that piece was filled. The moment she stepped out, however, that part dissolved, leaving a hole so much larger than the original.

He wasn't going to sleep unless she was there, he knew, and that sudden dependency on someone else terrified him.

"Yeah, Wilson," he whispered suddenly before turning to limp down the hallway.

"I chased her away."

----------------------------------------------------------

Sleep wasn't coming; it was as simple as that.

He'd been in bed for hours now, tossing and turning, trying to find some sort of comfortable spot, but no matter what he attempted sleep never arrived. He had tried all his usual vices—he far exceeded a tolerable blood alcohol level, he'd taken some vicodin, he'd eaten some cold pizza from the fridge.

The old him would have been out by now, lost in some dreamless state of unconsciousness that he had always found easy to obtain, yet the new him couldn't seem to reach it. So instead of drifting off he lay there in his bed shifting about in search of relief.

Why was it so difficult to sleep? He had, after all, been doing it his entire life. House liked to think it was one of his strongest skills, one he could perform anywhere at anytime, and yet he still lay here, wide awake.

He sighed, grudgingly pulling himself out of bed and moving to slip a jacket on.

No use sitting around all night, he figured.

If he was going to be staying up all night, he figured, he might as well do it somewhere a little more entertaining.

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A/N
Sorry for the late update.
Life seems to love keeping me from writing; it gets a sick thrill out of it.
Anyway, you'll be happy to know that I have most of the next chapter done in this story and I will be posting it soon.
And by soon, I don't mean in a month.
I mean like, tomorrow or the next day.

(: