Hi guys!

Thank you all so much for your continual comments and feedback.
I'm slowing down a little on the updates - I'm going to update every time I get a few more comments. Just my way of gauging if people are still reading it.

This chapter had to be one of my favourites to write, especially the first part. I love writing the description and metaphors are LOVE :P
I'd love to hear what you think about this chapter in particular :)

But anyway, enjoy! :D

Amylia
xxxxxx

--S-T-O-L-E-N--C-I-N-D-E-R-E-L-L-A--

Chapter Fourteen – Angel

He had to find her. Not really seeing the faces passing by him as he followed his senses out of the station, there was only one face he was seeking. And the guilt he'd managed to quell a little was once again an angry knot twisting inside his gut. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd betrayed her. That look in her eyes had almost ended him. It was almost asking 'how could you?' when she'd trusted him not to break her, yet again, and his actions had only ended in her pain, yet again.

The rain had started to fall steadily as he reached the doors to the lobby, his eyes flickering across the parking lot that was now misted slightly with the turn of weather. Most people had taken shelter from the sudden rain, save a few people scurrying quickly toward their cars or into the lobby. He saw her instantly, stood perfectly motionless on the island of a grassy verge in the centre of the parking lot. He was stilled for a moment by the sight of her, a car here and there momentarily blocking his view but after a second she was there before his eyes again.

Her face was upturned; her eyes closed as the rain beat gently down onto her, soaking her through to the skin and giving her a mystical kind of glow, an aura that was heightened further by her beauty. Her blouse clung to her, emphasising the fragile contours of her body, skin glistening with every tiny movement. She reminded him of an angel, fallen from grace, face turned to the sky with some kind of silent questions to a God she didn't believe in. Why had she been thrown down to the Earth, where cruelty and pain roamed free and crushed her with every breath? Why did everything solid in her life crumble beneath her and leave her with nothing? She was an angel, perfect yet damaged.

She'd been there all along, but he was only really seeing her now that she'd gone. She'd been lost to the harsh reality of a life so oppressive it tore from her the very essence of who she'd been. She'd been sent to save him, and despite the fact he was as strong an atheist as they came, he was still sure of this. She'd fallen at his door persistently with echoes of mercy, whispers of love and a heart so pure and broken he'd always been afraid to touch. He'd stung her time and time again with the thorns he wore around his own heart, an effort to protect himself, whilst still promising not to crush her. They were words that resounded now, taunting and bitter to his mind, reverberating against every corner. Yet through it all, she'd found a way in, whether she realized it or not, and even with broken wings, she'd managed to fly close enough to touch his soul.

To the world she was just another girl, another forgotten broken heart, another train wreck trapped in the hands of fate. She stood resolute, carrying silently the burden of her secret storm, which beat down relentless and unforgiving. He needed to save her now. It was his turn to reach out and grasp the hand she desperately offered to him. All those times she'd seen him drowning and had lent herself, at whatever costs, to steady him, to breath into him that little bit of life he greatly needed, and now she needed him to do the same.

"Cameron…"

He didn't really know what to say, other than her name, as he approached cautiously, the rain falling forgotten around them. She didn't move at first, as though his voice passed over without reaching her. After a moment that might well have been an eternity, she dropped her face down from the sky and slowly opened her eyes. He could easily separate the raindrops from the teardrops sliding down her cheeks, but the raw torment he saw captured in the troubled pools of blue-green was almost his undoing.

"Cameron…I'm sorry."

His voice was low, soft, filled with regret and his own anguish. But she shook her head the slightest touch, her eyes finding his, almost-painful sincerity burning right into him.

"I know him…or at least, I knew him. This is my fault, it's his revenge."

Her words made no sense to him and the glaze of distance that had settled onto her features unnerved him. Worrying that she was finally losing it, he gently but firmly took hold of her by the shoulders, her delicate frame seeming dangerously fragile in his hold.

"Cameron, none of this is your fault, you don't deserve any of it…" as he considered her words, one struck him particularly deep, "Revenge? Why would he want to hurt you?"

House was aware that perhaps the imminent conversation should take place in Stacy's presence. But he'd asked now, and he could tell by the tremble in her stance, the guarded glance toward the lobby over his shoulder and the forced gulp of air as though she needed to fill herself with the energy to speak the words, that a torrent was about to drown her.

"I killed his sister."

Physically, he remained unmoving, waiting, a neutral and calm expression masking the fact that mentally, he'd stumbled and fallen, and was flat on the floor, staring up at her in astounded confusion. She sensed this shock, looking right back at him with a patient serenity that belied how she really felt, and only instilled further in him the illustration of a fallen angel as he looked back at her.

House didn't judge. He waited; sure her words did not hold finality. Sure that there was an explanation, because it was her. Sure that she would break and reveal the emotional fortitude she so often lacked.

"Maybe we should go inside first."

The rationality of the statement shouldered its way into her conscious mind and she nodded, submissively allowing him to guide her. The comfort of his strong, warm hand between her shoulder blades, where her broken wings nestled disconsolately but stirred with his power, inspired a fire within her and a spark of strength to push forth, its presence encouraging her to hang on just a little longer. Wait out the storm. Steel herself for another day to fight through.

--

Letting the memories flood back to her and recounting them to Stacy was agonising and it was all she could do to fight tears. Repressed memories, she deliberated, were sometimes better left undisturbed. But that wall had been broken down now and she needed to let it out. She needed to release all of those pent up emotions and try to address them. The repression of them in the first place had triggered her defence mechanisms into overdrive through the years. And now they were disintegrating before her eyes. It was exhausting.

She told her story, recounted her recollections in startling detail that she didn't even realise she possessed knowledge of, but there were still unanswered questions. House knew him. That didn't fall under any category of comprehensible in her mind. He was currently outside the interview room, waiting for her tensely, uneasy in the surroundings he'd been plunged into and wishing to retreat back to more proverbial territory.

"House? You…know this guy too. You knew his name. I need you to explain how."

Stacy had her professional tone and impartial expression wonderfully perfected to a tee as she stood in the doorway of Interview Room Two, hands on her hips as she observed him patiently. He felt somewhat unnerved by it, despite, or perhaps as a result of, the familiarity he held with her. She was doing her job; she was nothing more than the lawyer. She wasn't his lover, like she once had been, and she no longer had his heart, like she once had. It was more distant, more indifferent, and he was just giving her what she needed to do her job. Not that they'd have much trouble in making sure Adam was found guilty, as it was quite clear to everyone that he was.

"I know him. Well, knew him, like Cameron did."

Stacy regarded him carefully, as though trying to decipher some hidden meaning she'd uncovered by looking into his eyes again properly for the first time in a long while. Eye contact between them had been brief and disconnected since she'd been back, and before that it was so long since they'd been in the same room together that the memories faded. But she was trying to work him out again. Old habits and all that.

--

Once he was seated the opposite side of the table to Stacy, Cameron waiting outside for him patiently, and the tape was ready to record his statement, House was ready to explain.

"I…slept with his sister," he wouldn't meet her eyes, choosing to watch his fingers as they drummed a steady rhythm on the counter top, "I wasn't aware she was only eighteen at the time. And I had an encounter with her brother, with Adam. He showed up one day with her; beat the crap out of me. And I…did nothing."

Stacy looked back at him, sceptical. That didn't sound like House. And after all, she'd been in a relationship with him back then, so she knew how volatile he could be when physically confronted…

Realisation dawned on her as she stared at him, shock and a sliver of hurt fluttering across her expression momentarily before she composed herself. No wonder he wouldn't meet her eyes.

"So…you slept with Adam Costello's sister and got beaten up by her brother, yet did nothing about that?"

She indistinctly remembered the event, come to think of it. She'd been horrified when she'd first caught sight of the angry bruise on his cheek and bust lip and had wanted to know what had happened. He'd been vague with his explanation and certainly hadn't mentioned sleeping with an eighteen year old. Though, having seen pictures of the sister in question when the police had raided Adam Costello's apartment, she could safely say the girl had looked at least twenty-eight, never mind eighteen. And she didn't doubt that House would have left well alone had he been aware just how young she was.

"I didn't fight him back…I just antagonised. It was fun. I didn't care that she was his little sister, I "

The ghost of a sarcastic smile tugged at his lips and she bit back a spiteful comment. He always hid behind that infuriating derision, his eyes dancing with amusement in a situation that was far from amusing. But that was just who he was, how he kept his walls up.

It was hard for her to contemplate the idea that he'd gone and slept with someone else when she was in a relationship with him, and harder still to remain professional with the revelation materializing during, and only because of, the case it was tangled up in.

"He turned up at the hospital last year too and we treated him. He was going by the name of Joel Romano and he didn't seem to like my bedside manner, I have no idea why."

That smile again, before he turned serious.

"He'd…shown a lot of interest in Dr. Cameron whilst we were treating him, but that's not really unusual with male patients. At that point I hadn't know who he was and she didn't seem as though she knew him either. He never told her whom he really was, that I know of, even though he was very interested in…her working relationships. Before he was discharged I learned of his real identity. I hadn't know anything about Cameron's connection to this guy."

Stacy nodded thoughtfully, contemplating his words whilst trying to drown at the incessant reminder in her head that he'd cheated on her. Before she had time to really think about what she was asking, the question had slipped from her lips. She had to know, but she could still just put it down to being pertinent to the case.

"And Dr. Cameron's 'working relationships' – what were they at that point?"

House shifted uncomfortably. He remembered all too well. She'd kissed him. She'd made it extremely clear that she had feelings for him. And he'd pushed her away. But he'd found himself watching her numerous times, berated himself for letting his fascination with her puzzle become somewhat of an obsession. He didn't doubt that Joel, or Adam, had seen their chemistry and had known who Cameron was. That was why he'd attacked her. They'd both had a part to play in Cameron's ordeal. Adam blamed Cameron for his sister's death, and House had…royally rubbed him up the wrong way. True, perhaps ten years ago he shouldn't have slept with Adam's younger sister, whom he was obviously very protective of. And true, perhaps there hadn't really been any need to catheterise the man when it hadn't been strictly required. But there was no excuse for what he'd given back in return. He'd sought out Cameron, attacked her in Chase's home, and kidnapped her, putting her through inordinate amounts of trauma and casting her aside in ruins, leaving her terrified of anyone touching her again.

"Her relationships…were none of my business. I was her boss, not her therapist."

As much as he tried, there was no substance to the words he said. As good as he was at lying and as easily as he could wrap people around his finger, getting them to believe his every word, it felt like all that ability had dissipated. His eyes still fixed on the table; he could sense the clear doubt emanating from Stacy. She didn't believe his feelings had been platonic then, and she certainly didn't have any doubt of it now. But she stayed quiet, curtly thanking him for his help and stopping the tape.

"I think you'd best go now."

She said as she stood up and calmly walked to the door, pulling it open and avoiding his gaze. She was refusing to let him get to her. But he knew that learning of his unfaithfulness all those years ago had struck a chord, and he was surprised when he felt the stirrings of a little guilt.

Nodding brusquely, he grabbed his cane and stood, limping heavily out of the room without saying a word to her. Cameron rose to her feet with a grace he was sure she wasn't even aware she held, and offered a slight smile before he reached her side. Looking up at him, she sighed a little.

"Can we get out of here now?"