House was still flicking through Cameron's chart, now perusing her through her past, when he felt four fingers and a thumb curl around his right ankle.

"You know, your voice works now. You don't have to touch me to get my attention." he said smirking, a warmth in his voice as he continued to read Cameron's file.

She smiled softly, her eyes glinting with mischief.

He looked up at her sleepy smile, noting that she had slept for little more than 40 minutes but it looked as though it had done her the world of good. He smiled, some of the worry draining from his eyes.

"Or maybe you just want to get you hands on me, don't suppose you'd be up for giving me a foot massage while you're there?"

She smiled almost devilishly.

Her fingertips brushed his cotton covered ankle and trailed upwards beneath his jeans, the tip of a single finger reached the skin of his calf before her touch was gone altogether, her hand now resting innocently on the mattress.

Looking to her face he saw her cheeks where blushing furiously and a shy smile around her mouth.

"Bold move." he said quietly and in an ambiguous tone, "So, what do you want me for? I mean I know you want me but was there anything you might need that would require sexually harassing your boss to get his attention?"

"That was not sexual harassment." she argued, now fully awake.

"Was too." he replied almost childishly.

"If you wanted to plead sexual harassment you should have done it on our date, not while I'm practically incapacitated on a hospital bed."

"But that's exactly why you're doing it now," he said in a knowing tone, "No one else would think that innocent, practically incapacitated Cameron would assault her boss while she's a patient."

"They wouldn't think it any other time either." she insisted defensively.

"And yet," he paused slightly for effect, "None of this explains why your hand was under my jeans."

"What would explain why your hand was under his jeans?"

They both looked up to see the figure of William Cameron standing in the doorway, a rucksack across his shoulders and an almost stern look on his face.

House paled slightly while Cameron blushed furiously once more.

Damn those quiet doors, House thought as he pulled his legs from the mattress as inconspicuously as possible.

Which was hardly inconspicuous at all.

"Um..." Cameron mumbled.

"You're in trouble now." House said in a conspiring whisper.

"I don't think you'll get let off that easily either." she replied just as quietly despite the fact they both knew that the other person in the room could hear them perfectly well.

William shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips as he stepped further into the room dropping the rucksack to the floor. "It's fine Allie. Just be glad your mother never heard any of this conversation."

"Huh?"

"What?"

"I've only been in this hospital two days and there's enough buzz around here for me to know something is going on between you two. So, just save the 'under pants' stuff until you're better, okay? I'm going to stall your mother a little, you've got five minutes tops."

He smiled almost fondly before disappearing from the room leaving two rather confused and slightly embarrassed doctors behind.

"You have interesting parents." House remarked after a moment's silence still staring at the place that William Cameron once occupied.

"Tell me about it." she muttered.

He frowned, "It's a bit strange actually." he said almost cryptically.

"Yeah, it is." she agreed, turning her gaze from the hallway to the man at her bedside.

"How the hell did you know what I was talking about?" he asked incredulously, "Can you read my mind or something?"

"You were thinking it's strange that our parents are so similar and yet so different. You think it's strange that with just those few differences that I'd turn out to be your complete opposite and yet exactly the same."

"Ahh!" He yelped.

"What?" Cameron asked looking concerned and worried.

"You can read my mind."

Cameron giggled, before wincing slightly at the pain the movement caused. House couldn't help but wince in sympathy before lifting the heals of hands to his eyes and shaking his head slightly.

"What the hell are you doing?" Cameron asked.

"Trying not to think of you tied down in tight black leather."

"House!" she admonished.

He pulled his hands from his face revealing a look of amusement.

"What? It's true! I guess it's too late since I already told you what I was thinking about." He grinned lecherously, "Do you want details?"

"Maybe later," she said with a playful smile, surprising him more than a little, "My dad did say we only had five minutes."

"What to do in only five minutes?" House said thoughtfully, mirth glittering in his eyes.

Despite the humour intended and uneasy silence fell; one filled with an almost palpable tension.

"House..." Cameron started, a stark seriousness in her voice.

"What did you want?" House asked in a soft tone.

He wasn't ready.

"What?" Cameron asked confused.

"When you touched me."

"Oh, umm... a TV." Cameron said unconvincingly.

"A TV?" he said disbelieving.

"Yeah," she said with more conviction, "These four walls are nice and all but it gets a little boring."

"I thought you were into books rather than TV."

"What can I say, there's a lot you don't know about me."

"Yes, there is." He said in a distant tone.

Another silence descended; thankfully it was a little easier than the previous one.

"My dad likes you." Cameron said a moment later, contemplating the exchange with her father.

"Well, he's handsome and all but tell your dad I'm not interested. He's not my type."

"He hates Chase." She continued with a smile, though still entirely serious.

"Who wouldn't?" He mumbled.

"Despises Richards."

"So do I." His voice spiteful.

"And barely respects Foreman."

"Is he racist?"

"But he likes you." she waited for his gaze to meet hers before she said in a quiet voice, "What did you say to him?"

"What? When?" he said in a defensive tone, his eyes narrowing as he closed the file still seated on his lap before tossing it frustrated onto her bedside cabinet.

"Whenever."

He didn't answer her. He lowered his gaze to his feet. There was nothing really to hide but he was uncomfortable with the fact that she could so easily deduce he had spoken to her father while she'd slept.

He had stood for almost an hour staring at her, unable to determine when her father came to a stand next to him until a shot of pain through his thigh.

It wasn't something he wanted to be public knowledge, certainly not. But he wasn't sure if he wanted her to know. He wasn't sure he even wanted to remember.

"What did you do?" she asked in a soothing gentle voice.

"Are you accusing me of something?" he said defensively, trying to cross his arms across his chest but it was rather impossible with a broken hand.

"No. My dad always said that words lie, actions don't."

Their gazes locked. House wanted to look away, wanted to hide but her eyes captivated him and made him want to confess everything.

He managed to hold his tongue, barely, before something cut through the tension in the room

"Doctor House." Cameron's mother said by way of greeting as she bustled into the room, holding a bag of foods and a cardboard tray of three cups of coffee.

That door needs a bell on it, House thought.

"Mrs Cameron." House replied.

"Call me Martha, please. Mrs Cameron sounds so old." she said with a small laugh that reminded him of his non-date with her daughter.

"You don't look a day over forty." he said in a cheeky yet sincere tone.

"Stop hitting on my mom." Cameron admonished with a frown, a darkened hint in her normally sweet voice.

"Allie, don't worry, I'm not planning on trading in your father anytime soon." she said stepping into the room, glancing lovingly back at her husband.

"I hope not." he said before kissing her sweetly, "Anyway, I'm not sure that it was me she was worried about." he stage whispered.

"Ah." Martha Cameron said in a knowing tone that only mothers can master as she cast a more critical eye over House.

The two parents then busied themselves with the various bags they had brought with them and emptying the rucksack in to the dresser in the room.

"Hide me please." Cameron whispered a plea, her eyes desperate as she rolled ever so slightly towards him.

"No," he said his eyes dancing, almost amused by the situation, "And it's not as if either of us could run away."

"Yeah, but at least you can leave."

"Good point." he said retrieving his cane from the floor and standing.

"House." Cameron nearly begged, but he was already at the foot of the bed.

"And don't worry I'll hook you up with some entertainment." he said with a wink and a smirk.

"Ooo goodie, "The L word" and " General Hospital" repeats, I can't wait." she said sarcastically.

"And you won't, I'll have a TV brought in here in a flash."

She nodded in thanks.

"Do you want something to eat, Greg?" William asked a bag on muffins in hand.

Cameron's eyebrows rose towards her hairline. Greg?

House very nearly groaned. If ever there was evidence of him talking to her father then that would be it.

"No thanks, William." he replied exasperatedly and rolling his eyes slightly, enjoying the look of complete and utter shock on Cameron's face.

"Cameron," he said almost kindly, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Then he headed to the door, pretending that he didn't see a flash of disappointment in her eyes at his words.

House slumped into the chair behind his desk once more.

On leaving Cameron's room he instructed an orderly to find a TV.

He didn't leave the corridor until he saw said orderly return with a trolley holding the weight of a reasonably sized plasma screen.

It was twelve o'clock when he turned to the clock on his desk.

The whole concept of time seemed to have been lost over the last few days; quite often he had to remind himself just how many days had passed since that poor excuse for a man had stepped into the room adjoining his office; a room he himself had avoided those many days.

His hand still ached as it had after he'd punched the guy.

His stomach still twisted as it had when he first saw her lying on the floor.

His mouth still tasted as bitter as it had done when he spoke the words, "Skinny brunette."

"…do you need anything else?" A voice sounded bringing House back from the terrifying scene that played in his mind.

Stupid quiet doors, House thought as he looked up to see Wilson standing in front of his desk.

"You weren't listening, were you?" Wilson said almost sympathetic rather than in the accusing tone House expected.

"No, what was it?"

"I'm going back to your place to get you more clothes and I was wondering if you needed anything else."

"Yeah," House said thoughtfully, "Yeah, I need a ride home once you finish up here."

"You're going home?" Wilson asked shocked and bewildered, curious as to the reason why he had suddenly decided to go home.

Did Cameron say something?

Did he say something?

"Yeah, is that such a bad thing?" he teased with a hint of a smile, but both of them could pick up on the slight seriousness in his voice.

"No. I don't think it's a bad thing. A proper bed and a good nights rest will do you good."

"Yeah I'll need it," House muttered.

"Ah," Wilson said in a knowing tone, "First night without morphine."

"We could give her sedatives." House suggested.

"House, she's going to have to deal with it at some point whether it's in her dreams or not. Heck, she might sleep tomorrow night and there would be no reason for all this worry."

"You say it but you don't believe it." House said in an even tone, his gaze penetrating.

Wilson sighed softly.

"My last appointment is at five, be ready for twenty past." Wilson said as he turned to the door.

"Thank you." House said softly.

Wilson paused at the door.

There was so much behind those two words then either would care to admit.

"You're welcome."

The door swished as it closed.

House reached for the orange vial in his pocket and rattling out two pills.

"Are you going to be okay?" Wilson asked as they came to a stop outside House's apartment.

It was obvious to the oncologist that his friend was in pain despite the rattle he knew was in the man's pocket, he wondered for a moment if the pain was somewhere else other than his thigh.

"Trust me. I know what I'm doing, I just need sleep." House said in a voice that sounded stronger than he felt, sweat glistening on his crinkled brow.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, could you pick me up tomorrow morning?"

"What time?"

"Seven-thirty." House said in an even tone.

Wilson raised his eyebrows in shock knowing it was almost unheard of for House to be awake at that hour let alone ready to go to work. He then took a deep breath and nodded.

"See ya." House said pulling himself from the body-hugging passenger seat of Wilson's car, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth at the pain in his thigh.

He struck out a confident yet shorted pace to the front door of the apartment complex, until he heard the tell tale sound of a 3.5 litre engine rumbling down the street. Reaching the entrance he could feel his leg trembling beneath him, threatening to let him crumple to a heap of limbs before he even reached the sanctuary of his home. Fumbling slightly, juggling his cane and keys single-handedly, he opened the door to the hallway.

House saw his front door for the first time in six days. Pain wracked his entire body as it distinctly lacked the usual flow of opiates in his bloodstream; he intentionally left his Vicodin bottle in his pocket since noon.

A whole 6 hours without pain meds.

He had a plan.

Opening the door he limped with a grunt on his lips across the threshold.

He dropped his bag and jacket to the floor, and pushed the door closed behind him hearing the lock clack into place.

His eyes settled on the green lock box that lay on a row of books on a shelf that held sweet release, hastily thrust there from the last time he'd sought its comforts.

Somehow through all the pain he made his way to his bedroom with his box of paraphernalia under his arm.

He gingerly sat on his large bed before toeing off his shoes all the while moaning at the throb in his thigh and hand. He was shaking all over and sweat poured from his body, even so his fingers meticulously pulled morphine into a syringe, tied an rubber band around his right arm and pushed the drug into his body.

He placed the now empty syringe and rubber tourniquet into the lock box and lifted it to the floor with a grunt on his lips, before flopping back onto the bed and pulling the comforter over his shaking body.

He could feel the drugs sweep through his limbs, moving further and deeper with each pounding beat of his heart, the mild sedating effect following soon after.

He thought of Cameron lying in a hospital bed with the same drug flowing through her veins, a connection that comforted him.

There was no pain and sleep beckoning with the drug that sung a lullaby in his blood. This is what he'd gone through almost six hours of agonising pain for.

He saw the clock at his bedside show 6.34pm.

Then he slept for 12 hours.