Chapter 28

His clandestine mission completed, House climbed onto this motorcycle and made his way home. Pulling up to the building, he paused to look at the soft lamplight glowing through his living room window. It had been nearly a year since he'd seen a light on at house upon coming home. That had been when Wilson had stayed with him before his last divorce. The light looked different now, although he couldn't quite put his finger on why.

Shaking his head, House got off the bike, removed his helmet and went to the door. He opened the door and some spicy-sweet scent wafted over him and into the hall. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Whatever it was smelled wonderful and as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him it dawned on him. The light looked warmer from outside.

"Hey." A voice interrupted his realization, and he saw Cameron lying on the couch. Her head was propped up on a pillow, the reading lamp on behind her, her glasses perched on her nose and a book in hand. She looked comfortable and totally in place, like she'd always been there.

"Damn," House said, dropping his bag on the floor.

"What's wrong?" Cameron asked.

"I was hoping you'd pull a Julia Roberts from 'Pretty Woman' and have nothing on but a tie," House quipped, now removing his leather jacket and heading to the closet.

"You don't wear ties," Cameron responded, practically. "Wilson though, he always loves a new tie…" she let her voice trail off, teasing him. House, on his way to the closet, froze. He looked at her. Wilson would have recognized that look, having seen it one time he hinted he might be interested in Cameron.

"What?" Cameron asked. "Your hooker jokes are funny but I can't make one little comment about someone?"

"My hooker jokes have the benefit of being true," House said.

"And what makes you think mine don't?" Cameron asked. House gave her the look again. Cameron rolled her eyes. "Fine, you win. I don't like Wilson, never have, never will, the very idea makes me nauseous. You're the only man for me, Gregory House. Happy?"

House nodded, then continued to the closet and flung his jacket inside. Cameron huffed her exasperation at him, and got up from the couch, walked to the closet, picked up his jacket and put it on a hanger. House just smirked at her.

"I'll be happy if that smell is something you cooked for dinner. I'm starving," House said, going to nose around in the kitchen.

"Well, if you weren't so busy doing whatever unethical and illegal thing you were doing that you couldn't tell me about, you could have been home earlier and had dinner at a more reasonable hour," Cameron said. She reached into the oven and took out a plate that she had been keeping warm for him.

House gave her a look to signify he still wasn't telling her anything, and she sighed. She carried the plate into the living room, placed it on the coffee table and turned the TV on for him. She shifted over on the couch so he could sit, and then handed him the remote. While he flicked through his TiVo listings, Cameron watched him. He finally settled on something and began eating. Cameron continued watching. Finally, he could take no more.

"What?"

"What, what?"

"You're staring at me while I eat. It's creepy," House said.

"When you said I'd already met all your old girlfriends, you were kidding, right?" Cameron asked.

"Nope," House answered.

"But I've only met Stacy. You don't honestly expect me to believe that you didn't have a girlfriend until you were forty."

"No, I don't. You've already met my other old girlfriend, you just don't know that she's my old girlfriend," House answered, without really answering.

"Wait, so you've only had two girlfriends, and I already know the other one?" Cameron asked. "There's no way you've only had two girlfriends."

"Why?"

Cameron looked at him in disbelief. Wow, how damaged was he? She could understand his not having a girlfriend since the infarction. The huge 'Leave Me Alone' sign in flashing neon that followed him around would have scared off most women. But before? A gorgeous, athletic, brilliant, world-famous doctor? The eyes alone should have scored him more women than even he could handle.

"You're gorgeous, brilliant, a world-famous, respected doctor. Your eyes alone would have attracted plenty of women. And you certainly don't behave like someone who's lacking in experience," Cameron said, blushing slightly.

"I didn't say I haven't had lots of sex," House said. "I said I've only had two girlfriends before you. Girlfriend implies some sort of commitment, time spent together, yadda, yadda."

"Okay," Cameron nodded. "I buy that. So, who is she?"

House put down his fork and glared at her. Seriously, she wanted to play this game? How could she not know this would end badly? And how stupid was he for letting it slip in the first place? He really should be more careful when he talked to her. If she would just stop making him feel so damned comfortable.

"Does it matter?" House asked.

"No, but it is interesting," Cameron replied.

"Cuddy," House said, and waited for the screaming.

"Lisa Cuddy?" Cameron paused to let this sink in. House watched her carefully. "Looks like you were wrong."

"About?" House asked.

"You always said Cuddy would bite her partner's head off after mating," Cameron said and House grinned at her. She smiled back.

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Tuesday came and went, and Wednesday the conjoined twins arrived at the hospital. House and Cameron had barely seen each other; Cuddy had been keeping Cameron so busy in the administrative offices. Because Wilson was still not speaking to House and they had no case at the moment, Jasper and Foreman were spending the day trying to avoid House's insanity.

But, after completing all of their clinic hours for the week, neither could find a reasonable excuse to be out of the diagnostics department. Jasper had taken over sorting the mail while Cameron was helping Cuddy, so she at least had something to occupy herself with. Foreman gathered up seven or eight medical journals and spread them across the conference table, hoping it would make him look busy.

House entered the conference room from his office, a look of such total boredom on his face that it was almost possible for Foreman to feel bad for him. Almost. House sat at the conference table across from Foreman and put his cane on the table, angling it carefully to block the pages Foreman was reading. Foreman rolled his eyes in frustration.

"So, here's the plan. I'll go downstairs to the clinic and randomly inject people with different drugs. You guys will have to figure out who I injected and with what. Sound like fun?"

"That's hardly fair to Jasper, I already know your favorite cocktail, colchicine and insulin. Remember?" Foreman commented smartly.

Jasper looked at the back of House's head in horror. She'd heard plenty about him over the past few days, but mostly it was about his attitude, his demeanor, his lack of any sort of bedside manor, how much he hated clinic duty. She'd yet to hear about any of his more outrageous schemes and plots. She knew the nurses were afraid of him, and since that was where she had heard most of the gossip, she supposed she shouldn't be surprised. They probably didn't know half of the stuff he pulled.

"If you're bored, there are about a dozen referrals here. Maybe we could see a patient?" Jasper asked, the sarcasm not completely erased from her voice.

"You're sassing me already? Sorry, no backtalk until you're in your second year, or unless I'm about to kill someone. Even then, keep it to a minimum." House said. Foreman smirked and crossed his arms, thinking this could be entertaining. Jasper was nothing like Chase or Cameron. She wasn't one to just quietly take his abuse.

"Not backtalk, just suggesting that maybe we could take a case. There's an attorney here, three different doctors have diagnosed him with the flu, but he still feels sick. They tested him for TB, it was negative and the first doctor gave him a chest x-ray, which was normal." Jasper read from the letter requesting a consult.

House opened his mouth to snark at her, but closed it again and tilted his head slightly. He stared intensely at the coffee pot for a moment, and then nodded. "Get him in here," he ordered, then stood and limped back to his office.

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House had Jasper get a new chest X-ray for their patient before his appointment. He told Jasper and Foreman that he would see the patient in his office after his physio appointment. Foreman looked at House in amazement. House stared back at him, waiting for the comment, but none came. House nodded and limped out of the conference room to meet Dianna for his hour of torture.

"House never volunteers to see a patient. What's so special about this guy?" Foreman wondered.

"I have no idea," Jasper answered. "But I am interested. I'm due in the clinic. Do you want to join Chase and me for lunch later?"

"Sure," Foreman grinned. Lunch with Chase and Jasper was usually entertaining.

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House climbed off the treadmill and glared at Dianna. She was just so damned unflappable. He'd spent weeks throwing his best stuff at her and nothing. It was starting to piss him off. And that was so wrong, because he was supposed to be the one getting to her.

He had to admit, if only to himself, that his leg didn't hurt as much as he'd thought it would. Maybe this physio stuff wasn't complete crap. She was smiling at him. Smugly, he thought. He was going to get under her skin, somehow. It was only a matter of time.

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House limped into his office, where his new patient sat waiting. House crossed the room, but rather than introducing himself to the man, he made an impatient give-it-to-me gesture.

"X-ray," he barked. The patient, a man about House's age but slightly less aged looking, handed him a folder. House withdrew the x-ray form the folder and held it up. After glancing at it for barely 20 seconds, he put it back in the folder and turned to the patient.

"So you're a lawyer," House said, sitting behind the desk and the patient nodded. "I've got a little thing I need done, and I'd rather not have the hospital attorneys do it. Actually, I'd rather they not know about it. Think you can handle that?" House picked up a file of his own from his desk and tossed it to the patient. The man looked at it briefly and nodded his assent to House. "Great. Okay, now for the fun. In about five minutes, two insanely young doctors are going to come in here. I want you to give them this. Do NOT let them look at your x-ray." House picked up a pad from his desk and began scribbling on it. "Tell them whoever figures it out first from just this clue not only gets to cure you, but also gets my undying respect and admiration."

The patient looked at House, a bit iffy. House supposed he should at least tell the guy he wasn't dying. Wouldn't want him to screw up that paperwork.

"Don't worry, you're going to be fine. It's completely curable. Won't even hurt." At this House stood up from behind his desk and extended his hand. "Greg House."

"Patrick Murphy," the patient said, and shook House's hand.

"Excellent," House said. "Starting the timer now. Make sure you write down who figures it out and when, I want to see how long it takes." And he walked out without looking back.

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House and Cameron spent a quiet evening at home that Thursday night. Cameron got the feeling House wanted to tell her something all night, but he never did bring it up. She assumed it had something to do with whatever illegal shenanigans he'd been up to earlier in the week, and finally decided she was probably better off not knowing.

Friday morning Cameron went straight to Cuddy's office, without even stopping in the conference room. House also skipped the diagnostics department. He had an early therapy session with Quig, and for once in his life he didn't want to be late.

"Need some advice," House said by way of announcing himself in Quig's office.

"Advice. Do I do that?" Quig asked. "What's up?"

"Differential diagnosis. Fear of emotional connection, but with obvious feelings of love," House said, settling himself in one of Quig's leather chairs.

"I don't get the rest of your symptoms?" Quig asked.

"What rest of my symptoms?" House retorted, pretending to be insulted. "Patient is a thirty something immunologist who I believe to be madly in love with me."

"You want me to diagnose Dr. Cameron," Quig said. "Well, I do love a challenge. And it's always fun to diagnose someone with mental illness when I've never actually had a conversation with him or her. Do I get extra points if it's something that requires medication?"

House sighed. Quig really was going to make him do this the hard way.

"Okay, fine. We'll do it your way. But just so you know, my way is more fun," House whined.

"Of course," Quig responded. "What's the problem?"

"Cameron's afraid of me," House said.

"Well, you are kind of scary," Quig replied.

"Ha," House said. "She's afraid to talk to me about stuff. Relationship stuff."

"And why do you think that is?" Quig asked.

"God, do you get a bonus every time you ask that?" House said, rolling his eyes. "I already know why."

"Okay. Pretend I'm stupid and explain it to me," Quig said.

"We went on a date," House said. Quig raised an eyebrow. House made a face; he was getting there. "When she first came to work here, we went on a date. Well, technically she forced me into a date, but that's really another story. She said she only had one shot with me and she wanted to know how I felt about her. And I may have been somewhat blunt in hazarding an observation that she only liked me because I was damaged and that was the sort of man she liked. Not that you could blame me, what with the dead husband and all. So, now she's afraid to talk to me about that kind of stuff."

"Okay. Getting the picture. And can I say, you're not looking so good in it. Well, for starters, do you find it at all unusual that you've been seeing her and sleeping with her for a few months now and you still don't call her by her first name? You do know her first name, don't you?" Quig asked.

"She doesn't call me by my first name either." House answered. "And yes, I know hers and she knows mine. I even know her middle name, it's … I'm not allowed to say. But it's really bad." House grinned.

"House, you can be physically intimate with someone and not actually have an intimacy with that person. The very fact that you and Dr. Cameron haven't progressed onto a first-name basis suggests that you're both a little afraid of emotional commitment. Maybe a small gesture on your part would be a good start." Quig suggested. "Say, calling her Allison."

House nodded. He could do that.