Author's Note: A couple chapters still to go…three or so?…thanks to all the wonderful reviewers. I love reading all the reviews I get. They make my day.

A saxophone someplace far off played

As she was walkin' by the arcade.

As the light bust through a beat-up shade where he was wakin' up,

She dropped a coin into the cup of a blind man at the gate

And forgot about a simple twist of fate.

The sad sound of the saxophone drifted its way slowly through the sealed shades that hung over the motel room window. House's eyes cracked open. The mantra going through his head was made up of one word: Vicodin.

He looked around the room for his pants and didn't see them on the floor where he had left them. He swiveled his head towards the window, and, out of his peripheral vision, he could see the orange-tinged-amber bottle. He lunged for it with the ferocity of a cat jumping on a mouse and took off the white lid without hesitation. There was no water (or alcohol, for that matter, which would have explained his pounding headache), but he didn't care. Taking pills without water or liquid was an art form that he had mastered.

The throbbing pain started to lessen, and with it, went the mantra. But as quickly as it left, logic and another thought replaced his need for the painkillers—Cameron.

She was gone from the motel room and he was pretty damn sure that he had not had the state of mind to fold his clothes and lay them on the nightstand and stand the Vicodin bottle up directly next to his apparel. As he gazed at the clothes and the bottle, he noticed the small piece of notebook paper folded up and tucked in between the economical clock and his pants.

He reached for the note and slowly opened it. He cursed himself for not waking up and leaving the room first. She took both her dignity and his with her when she left.

There were no markings on the back of the paper, but he turned it around and saw that Cameron's neat handwriting filled the page. He started to read with dread in his heart, worried that she'd take this to Cuddy or Vogler and scream sexual harassment. He didn't care how much she was in love with him—he hadn't given her what she wanted.

House—

I wanted to leave you a sappy, sentimental note and almost did as I watched you sleep, but in the end, I took that one with me and left you this one.

I won't be at the hospital in the morning. I'm leaving, and you can ship my stuff to my apartment. I think that information is in my file. I got a job offer a couple days ago from a distinguished hospital in Philly, and, I had forgot about it until waking in this hotel room. We remember the strangest things at the strangest times.

I think it'd be best if I left. It's too complicated, both you and I know that. Can you imagine it at work? Foreman and Chase are already on me about having the 'hots' for you. They would know we did something, and I'm sure if they were too dense to figure it out, Wilson would see the difference, however slight, between you and I.

House, perhaps we'll meet someday again. We were brought together here for reasons that are beyond both of us. And, dear, please, don't lose that lovely edge you have about you. How else would I be able to recognize you when we're both old and forgetting the glories of youth (well, at least when I am. You're already there.)

Love,

Allison Cameron

P.S. I had to fold your clothes. The woman in me, I guess.

He stared at the paper. Yes, he should have left first. His dignity wouldn't have abandoned him so. And God, he would have been able to sneak in that last snarky comment that she had beat him to. He reached for his cell phone.

The numbers he dialed were familiar and it only took three rings. Although the clock read with some sense of finality 5:19 a.m., he knew he would answer. Wilson always did.

"Pick me up at the Coors Motel. I'll explain when you get here."

He flicked the phone closed and laid back on the bed. He needed some time to fully absorb the events of the past twelve hours.

The wind gently whipped around her. She had left after writing him the note and folding his clothes. She had to fold his clothes. By cleaning up the room it had let her touch something that belonged to him, smell his scent, and sort out her mind, which was cluttered with too many thoughts. She left quickly and quietly, slipping out the door. She had ended up walking down the streets back to her apartment.

She walked along as fast as she could—House was right to dislike this area. It was bad news and she was a pretty good target for anyone who wanted a target. She figured, though, that not many people would be apt to roam the streets at such an early hour.

She walked underneath an overhang and saw a few homeless people lining the walls of the building of which the overhang extended out from. They were pitiful, and, right now, she felt just as worn-out as they appeared. One man, awake and looking straight ahead towards the street, uttered some mumbled words as Cameron passed and held out his black-gloved hand. Money was the vocalized plea of the man. Help me was the silent one.

Cameron, feeling his pain in the early morning, stopped and dug in her pockets. She usually carried money on her and she managed to find a five for the man. She handed it to him.

"Thank you. Philly awaits," he coherently told her.

Cameron drew back. Was this man talking to her still? Or to someone else? She backed away and kept walking.

"PHILLY AWAITS!" He screamed after her.

She broke into a run and her recently regained strong demeanor was close to breaking again. She stopped when she thought she was far enough away and caught her breath. Her stilettos were killing her feet, but the man had scared her and unbalanced her. She knew he had no idea that she was going to Philly on the first train she could catch. So much for doing a good deed. Saving patients, screwing House, and salvaging money for homeless men on the streets…when would she learn that her niceness was probably going to be her downfall?

She had a fear of flying, so she comforted and calmed herself by thinking about the train schedule. She knew a train left from the Hamilton Train Station today sometime that was bound for Philadelphia, or a layover that could get her somewhere to Philly. She needed to get out of Princeton as soon as she could. She could not stay here. She'd come back in a few days or weeks to clean out her apartment. She'd get a hotel room in the City of Brotherly Love and then go from there. Yes, that'd be what she would do. She needed to get back to her apartment, call the train station, get herself a ticket, and…

"Cameron!"