"You did what?!"

Wilson cries, his eyebrows in danger of disappearing into his hairline. House grumbles at the gleeful lilt to his friend's voice, eyes trained on the ball spinning on the desk as he repeats himself irritably.

"I took her out for dinner."

"House! After everything, are you sure that's really the best plan? To start taking Cameron out on-"

"-I'm not starting to do anything. I drove her home and she said she wanted food, that's all there is to it."

"That's never all there is to it with you... Or her."

"Fine, fine, if you must know; we waited for the waitstaff of that ever prestigious establishment to look away, and then I pulled her into the disabled toilets and we-"

"-House! God, please stop!"

The oncologist begs, his eyes alight with good humour. Leaning back in his chair and steeping his fingers beneath his chin, he continues in a more serious tone

"I'm just glad she's alright... What happened down in the ER must have been pretty frightening for her."

"Well, you know Cameron.

"Not all that well..."

"She can hold her own, despite what the itsy-bitsy proportions and hooker-blonde hair might suggest."

"Oh, please, you were practically drooling when you saw her when she came back."

"Well, she reminded me an awful lot of a young pole dancer named Lacey who I-"

"-Who you nothing."

"Whatever. Cameron's fine, that's the main thing."

"And yet, why do I sense you're ever so slightly disappointed there's no need for a few diagnostic tests to confirm that?"

"I'd enjoy sticking needles in my ex-fellow?"

"You'd get to spend more time with her..."

"I'm still relishing the fact I got rid of her!"

"You didn't get rid of her. She quit."

"Best thing that's ever happened to me!"

"...Is this little act for my benefit, because I doubt you're even fooling yourself."

House rolls his eyes, placing the ball back on its stand and regarding Wilson levelly.

"It was time for a change... If it had just been Cameron left over and myself... She needed to go, and she knew that. If she hadn't given in her resignation, I would have had to make her do so."

"You wouldn't have fired her. Not Cameron."

"No. Which is why I'm glad she was smart enough to walk out of her own accord."

"And the others?"

"No regrets."

"Didn't think so."

"Anyway. Whatever. Quit trying to psychoanalyse me... Do you think I have a shot with Thirteen?"

"Not all of your protégées are quite so enamoured with crippled, age-inappropriate men."

"... You're right. I have a much better chance with Kutner."

"Is Dr Cameron around?"

"Allison's not come in yet. Reckon she might be sick."

A harried nurse quips over her shoulder as Wilson moves quickly out the way of an oncoming orderly.

"Sick?"

The oncologist's brow furrows; deeming the blonde to be ill enough to skip work highly unlikely.

Hell, the girl refused to take the day off despite an HIV scare...

"Probably. I don't know. I wouldn't blame her for taking the day off; things got pretty nasty with a patient in here yesterday."

"Yes, I heard about that."

"She's not here though, and believe me, I'd know! We could do with an extra set of hands!"

"Alright. Thanks, Nancy."

Nodding his farewell, Wilson frowns as he goes off in search of one of the hospital's other immunology specialists with his patient's case file, making a mental note to inform House of the blonde's absence.

"Shit."

Cameron croaks, lowering herself carefully into the empty bathtub and hissing through her teeth as the chill of the enamel bites at her flesh. Resting with her back against the slope of the bath, she frowns as she looks down at the dark bruising emanating from below blood-soaked gauze. Gritting her teeth, she plucks gently at the tape holding the patch in place and peels it aside.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it..."

Touching bruised flesh with a grimace, she groans as she confirms that House's stitches remain intact, making the livid thunder spreading beneath her skin and the blood oozing stubbornly between the sutures all the more troubling.

"Didn't nick anything vital for survival... "

She wipes at her forehead with the back of her hand, her flesh clammy since waking up this morning and her head woozy. She is aware that the most sensical solution to her current predicament would be to contact the hospital and get herself looked at, but she is unable to shake her pride which angrily admonishes her with 'you're a doctor; act like one.'

That... and she doesn't want House to find out.

Doesn't want to be his fragile little girl once again.

"Suck it up, Allie."

Reaching for the first of the implements gleaming on the side of the tub, she hovers the scalpel tentatively over House's sutures before biting her lip and snipping them cleanly away.

Well, that was the worst part, surely...

Her breath has become short and shallow, and she scolds herself irritably as her slim frame seems to quake in time to that frantic rhythm. Adjusting her latex gloves, she proceeds to place her index fingers on either side of the open incision and pulls the flesh ever so slightly apart.

"Come on, come on, you're fine, you're all good."

Applying just a little more pressure, she inspects the damage critically; her brow furrowed as blood trickles down her hip and begins to drip against white enamel.

"Oh, hush..."

Shaking a little, she grabs the small penlight resting beside her and twists the end to ignite a narrow beam of light. Clenching it between her teeth, she leans forward; eyes watering as a sharp pain shoots up her side.

"No... no, no, no."

Her words are muffled by the metal of the penlight, and she shakes her head in frustration; sure that she understands what the problem is. Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath, aware that her knees are shaking against the sides of the tub and that her position is causing blood to spill down her stomach to soak into the grey cotton of her underwear. Forcing herself to continue with her- albeit primitive- examination, she pulls at broken flesh once more, staining the tips of her gloves maroon.

"Crap."

Resting her head back against the tiles surrounding the bath, she lets out a sigh of frustration; wondering why in the hell bad things happen to good people. She is frustrated; sure that whilst not nicking anything vital to her survival, the scalpel has nicked her ovarian artery. She doesn't believe the artery to be severed, as such trauma would have been obvious to both herself and House when he'd cleaned her up, but she suffers some serious apprehension due to the lividity of the bruising now surrounding the incision.

Using the scalpel to carefully remove broken stitches- deciding she'll have to redo them while figuring out what to do- she jerks in surprise as a loud knock echoes through her apartment.

"Ah!"

Eyes widening as the slow trickle seeping from the wound turns suddenly dark and fast, she shakes her head in childish denial as fresh blood spills over the fingers she presses instinctively to the wound.

"Honey? You home?!"

Chase's voice is muffled as he knocks out another little rhythm on her front door. Looking down at the gore painting her gloves and deciding this takes precedence over the fact that she sits in just her underwear, she calls out; her voice breaking a little as she raises it to be heard.

"Chase! It's open! I... I can't... Please!"

Holding her breath, she waits as silence succeeds her plea until, finally, she makes out the telling click of the front door to her apartment being pushed open.

"Allison?"

"In the bathroom!"

"Uh...?"

"I think... I think you might need to call an ambulance."

Brow furrowing, Chase hurries towards the blonde's bathroom; the door cracked open just enough to make out a sliver of light."

"Cam, what the hell are you-... Shit."