Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Thanks for the great response to last chapter. My final went wonderfully - 96! As a result, here is an update, quite early! Please read and review; I love knowing what everyone is thinking.

Dedication: This chapter is for Hallie, for her inspiration and her continued commitment and love for this story. I can't do it without you!

He was furious. No, he was beyond furious, but he was so far beyond furious that his fury was masked by disbelief, by hatred, and by just numb shock at what he had heard. He knew it was true, and yet it was so unbelievably different to hear her side of the story. To hear her tell him, to hear the words actually come out of her mouth and to see the tears actually slide down her cheeks, and to feel her racing heart beating against his chest as she shook and trembled in his arms…Those were things he had not been expecting. He had expected the bruises. He had expected the broken ribs. He hadn't expected the rape, but he had suspected it. He hadn't anticipated the reason this had started in the first place either.

It had started after that one-night stand. He had known they had slept together, and he had suspected she had been impaired somehow – he had thought alcohol, but now he knew it was drugs. She had made a mistake, from what he could tell. Chase just wasn't letting go. He thought she owed him something, something for taking advantage of him like that. And yes, she had taken advantage of him. Not in the way he had of her – no, he would never say Chase was justified because Cameron had only slept with him because she was stoned. No, what Chase did was much, much worse. There was simply no reason.

He slammed the tea kettle onto the stove without thinking and then paused, holding his breath for a moment, suddenly remembering he wasn't alone. He listened hard, but it didn't sound as though he had woken her up. He let out the breath slowly. It had been hard enough convincing her to stay (she had been insisting on getting a hotel) and then convincing her to take his bed (she had been insisting on the couch) and it wasn't until she tried to stand up and practically fainted from exhaustion right there that she had realized he was right.

The tea kettle began to whistle and he poured the hot water into a mug with a tea bag waiting. It was nearing eleven, but it was still too early for decaf. He wasn't tired anyway, his mind too wound up over Cameron's revelations. He wanted to call Cuddy to rub it in her face and Wilson to thank him for finally coming to his senses, but he knew it was too late to make either call. He wanted both of them wide awake for this.

He wondered vaguely where Chase was. Cameron had said she hadn't seen him, not that she was sorry. Truth be told, he wasn't really sorry either. He only wanted to know for his own peace of mind…and Cameron's. He wasn't really too concerned with how Chase was handling the news of the miscarriage, considering Chase had caused it. House hoped he was in as much pain as possible. It served him damn well right.

He suddenly froze, his mug halfway between the table it had been resting on and his lips. He frowned and listened intently. There it was again – a low moan. He hesitated, unsure if it would pass or if something worse would happen, but when Cameron suddenly screamed, he slammed his mug back onto the table, grabbed his cane, and hobbled to his room.

She hadn't screamed again, but she was writhing and whimpering on the bed. The covers were tangled around her body and as he approached her, he could see her hair was damp with sweat. "Cameron!" he said loudly. He grabbed her shoulder in an attempt to stop her trembling. "Cameron!"

She screamed again and tried to fight him off, but House clung on. He began shaking her more aggressively, trying to get her to wake up before she hurt herself or him. "Cameron, wake up!"

Her eyes snapped open and she gasped and panted. He saw her eyes flicker nervously around the dark and, at least to her, unfamiliar room. Finally they found him and some of the tension relaxed from her face. Then she burst into tears.

He felt dread rising inside of him again – he wasn't really the comforting type. But his newfound dread was being matched by a feeling of painful empathy…as though he could feel her pain. It was that same feeling as before, that feeling to help, that feeling that overwhelmed him and made him act in ways so uncharacteristic to his usual self. It urged him to do something, to say something comforting. She had just woken from a nightmare and she had probably thought the person shaking her was Chase.

He swallowed hard. "It's okay, Cameron," he said soothingly, remembering how she had calmed down for him last time because she had heard his voice and not Chase's. He shifted himself slightly so that he was sitting on the bed with her, unable to stand any more with his bad leg. He brushed her damp hair back from her eyes and traced circles on her arm gently. "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

She whimpered slightly and then buried her face in his chest. He could feel her beginning to relax again as she wrapped her arms around his waist. He was in a slightly awkward position, but he found he didn't mind so much. It was comforting to lie there with her, to feel her fall asleep in his arms. It had been so long since he had had that feeling. He continued stroking her hair as he listened to her even breathing. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the headboard.

Although he hadn't wanted to admit anything earlier, he found himself wondering if maybe he did have feelings for her. Her hair was soft beneath his fingers and even though he wasn't looking at her now, he looked at her enough at work. She really was, as he had said, extremely pretty. But she had proved herself more than just a pretty face. She had the work ethic to match, and while he found that work ethic somewhat irksome in the way it completely differed from his own, she intrigued him. He found himself now, more than ever, attracted to her. Wilson would want him to move on. Wilson wouldn't want him to pine after Stacy, and he knew now that he would never have to. He wondered vaguely where this left him in terms of a relationship with Cameron. She had admitted attraction to him before, but was she still attracted to him now? And could she ever learn to trust a man again?

It wasn't fair, what had happened to her. No one deserved this, but especially not anyone like Cameron. It tore him up from the inside. Everything that had happened to her, everything, was the result of just one man. One man could rape her, he could abuse her, he could cause her to miscarry. He could give her nightmares. He could instill so much fear in her, he could force her to suffer in silence. He could have killed her.

He could have killed her. He could have ended her life, like he had ended the life of the unborn child. House shuddered at the thought and found himself unconsciously wrapping his arms tighter around Cameron's body. She looked so peaceful lying there, asleep in his arms. He wondered if this was her only sanctuary.

"I'll protect you, Cameron," he declared in a whisper, his voice breaking the silence that had fallen in the night. He pressed his lips to her forehead. "I'm not going to hurt you," he murmured.

He wasn't sure if he had fallen asleep, or simply lain there in such peaceful comfort that the time had gone by without him noticing, but the next thing he knew, he had bolted upright, his head flat against the headboard. He checked on Cameron: she was still sleeping with her arms wrapped around him. He breathed easier, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

His eyes widened. His mind was not playing tricks on him. As quickly as he could, and still as gently as he could, he slid himself from Cameron's embrace. He paused a moment, hoping he hadn't woken her, but she was still asleep. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and grabbed his cane just as the pounding at his door increased in volume and speed.

He moved quickly to the door, not wanting Cameron to wake up. He reached his door and yanked it open.

"What?" he asked crankily, thinking no one that came to his door at this hour deserved niceties.

"Where is she?"

House's eyes opened wider and he felt anger course through his veins. "Get the hell out," he spat. He made to shut the door, but Chase stuck out his foot.

"I'm not playing games," he said thickly. House saw the flint of metal the split second before the gun shot resounded.