Author's Note: Short chapter to get me to the next one.

Baby I've been here before

I've seen this room and I've walked this floor

I used to live alone before I knew you

This time, when his alarm clock went off at six in the morning, Cameron was gone. The bed sheets next to him showed her presence and he was glad to see he was still wearing clothes. He stretched his arms out and sung his legs out of bed. He reached for the Vicodin, took three, and then grabbed his cane. He started towards the living room to make sure everything was okay after last night.

There was a dent in the wall because of the cane. He traced the lopsided indentation with his fingers and made a mental note to get the wall fixed. Walls, unlike so many other things in his life, were fixable.

He kept up his journey through the room looking at the remnants of the discovery at his door. He swiped the towel she had used off the table. With a few glances to his right and left, he made sure that he was really alone. He lived alone, yes, but paranoia ran rampant when it came to House's mind. He brought the towel to his nose and inhaled the sharp, tangy scent of Cameron's shampoo. It was dull and he could hardly smell it, but it was still the same. It was hers.

He looked out the window at the rising sun. He thought for a moment and went over to his CD player. He pressed the open button and the device lifted its lid. There, sitting placidly was the Bob Dylan CD. So, what Cameron had come back to take, she had actually forgot to get. He took out the CD and placed his finger through the whole, wearing the shiny disc like a ring. He spun it around with his fingers, watching as the early morning light made spinning circles on the ceiling.

After playing with the CD for a few minutes, he walked over to where the case still lay on the coffee table. He opened it up and slipped it back in its home. He would have to give it back to her today at work. Maybe he would do it in front of Chase and Foreman to make her keep her distance. Maybe he would do it in secret—just her and him. He liked her. He really did. And last night was a testament to that. But he didn't understand her and that made him nervous. He apparently hadn't understood Stacy and she had burned him. Cameron, with her penchant for "charity cases", had a habit of making him uncomfortable. He didn't know what she liked about him, and he didn't know how to stop her. Yes, of course, he liked her. But he liked having control. In this situation, he felt he did not.

He had let the ball slip out of his corner last night, when he allowed his bitter façade to drop. Even in that small moment, Cameron had gained more footing. He wasn't sure he was completely over Stacy and he didn't need to hurt "puppies and kittens" Cameron.

The room, though, still held her presence. There was something decidedly feminine lingering here and he could not decide if he liked it. As he stood in the middle of his room, he knew what he had to do. Love, the silly idea, did not overcome the single most important thing that always sat on his agenda—

Self-preservation.