This is going somewhere—I promise.

They walked along by the old canal

A little confused, I remember well

"Lost!" Cameron looked at him funny.

"Yes, of course. What you thought I meant the television program?"

"No, you live here for God's sake. How can you be lost? Is your social life that…"

She was interrupted (it seemed to be a pattern lately) as they both heard the thudding of something htat they both knew was related to the car.

"That's a flat tire," House said and maneuvered the car over to the side of the road. He surveyed their surroundgings.

This was not a particularly good section of town, he could tell. Princeton, although a filthy rich area, had its flaws just like any other place. This was definetly it. There was dented and rusted cars around him, and sagging doorsteps on either side. The bricks of the houses looked old. Adornments were scarce on these residences and there were plastic chairs and grills strewn helter-skelter over the fading white porches.

He must have taken a rwrong turn during his reflection on the reasons he had gone with Cameron. He wanted to punch himself even more now. Kicking himself was out of the question, considering…

"I know where we are," Cameron informed him, as she squinted off into the darkness.

He sighed and decided that he would have to rely on her to get them out of this mess. He shuddered at the thought. There goes that damn reputation, was his only concern.

"When I originally came here, I used to just drive aimlessly hours. I used to go through this section on the occasion. I didn't like it and stopped driving through here. Bad section of town, you know?"

"You do have a penchant for stating the obvious."

She ignored the comment.

"I spent a good amount of money on those tickets that we're not going to use, you do realize that, right? No, don't answer that. God, why don't I ever listen to anyone? They told me you'd be trouble," she tailed off quietly.

"For the record, I didn't want to come with you. I came to for the jazz. That's it, so get those stupid fairy tales out of your head. I'm not your proverbial prince in shining armor. I've been told I'm a pink, fluffy bunny with fangs, but that's up to some interpretation. Cameron, I honestly didn't think you were that stupid to believe that I'd wine and dine you and actually want to go somewhere with you. I told you that the whole monster truck thing was not a date. English is the language of choice for you, is it not? Come on, get with the program."

He had hurt her like he intended. He didn't imagine hurting her enough so that she turned quickly and opened the door fo the car and started walking quickly away.

"Shit."

He got out of the car, cane in hand, and started to limp after her at a good pace. She was wearing Pucci stilettos—an obvious extravagance—with a black, frilly skirt, and bright green sequined tank top. She had also fled with her black blazer and was letting that hang limply over her shoulders. She moved quickly down the street and he followed as best as he could. Her pace increased; his pace increased.

Cameron had to stop, though, when she reached a crosswalk and the little light-up man was red. House caught up with her.

"Cameron, I don't like chasing people," he reprimanded.

"You just did," she quietly told him as she turned around.

"I couldn't let you get raped out here on the streets. I do have a conscience."

They looked at each other. Here in the dark, it did not matter that he was Dr. Gregory House nor that she was Dr. Allison Cameron and they were in a boss-underling positing. The dark hid those facts nicely. Even the streetlights could not bring back the certainties that the dark covered. It was night—they were here and fate was a harsh dictator.

And those two people, nameless, faceless, anonymous in the lonely, dark night, came together with a single touch of lips to lips and the first feeling of completeness either one had felt for a long time.

The dark kept their secret.