Disclaimer: I do not own House MD; it is affiliated to FOX Broadcasting Network, Heel and Toe Prods., Some Bad Hat Harry Prods., and Shore Prods., etc.

Parings: House/Cameron

Rating: T

A/N: Yes I'm back with chapter Two. Thanks to all you wonderful reviewers :) love y'all! (I know it's been a while, you probably don't remember what happened before this . . . sorry)

The Line Between Truth and Deception

Two

"O-of course." House stumbled as he handed her the handbag. He forced himself to break eye contact and failed.

"Thanks." Cameron detached one of her hands from the dark folder and reunited with her leather bag. Something about the stranger's brilliant blue eyes kept her gaze unstirred. Snap out of it! She blinked and shook her head slightly. "Um, and I believe this is my seat." Unzipping the bag, Cameron rummaged for her ticket.

"Ah of course." House paused. Didn't I just say that? ". . . Again." He strained a small smiled and started to get up. "Damn." House frowned as his leg gave in. Why now. "Sorry." He muttered and tried to push himself up. He had bent his elbows and pressed his palms against the armrest on either side.

"No no, don't be. Let me help." Cameron felt a pang of guilt; the man obviously had an injured leg. She set her possessions down quickly and slipped her arm in beside his, her other hand resting on his upper arm for support. The solid tone of his muscles came as a pleasant surprise. Cameron pushed it out of her mind and focused on the situation at hand.

"No need, I'm fine." House lied. The pain made him grind his jaws together. Help from a beautiful woman just to get out of a seat? That's pathetic, Greg. With a last push, he managed to stand up and shove a handful of Vicodin pills in his mouth.

Cameron opened her mouth to question as the stranger's Adam's apple bobbed up and down, accenting his swallow. She thought better of it and suppressed her curiosity. "Are you alright, sir?"

House nodded, leaning on his cane. "Fine thanks . . . House."

"I'm sorry?"

"No need for that 'sir' business. Call me House."

Cameron smiled and extended out her hand. "Allison. Nice to meet you."

House eyed her outstretched hand and took it uncertainly. A handshake wasn't in the standard procedure of introducing one self to a stranger you happened to meet on an airplane. At least not in all the years he had known. But the grip he received was genuine and without hesitation. Though seemingly delicate, House felt the callus on her fingers. He was about to comment when the speakers overhead sounded.

A wave of flight attendants followed soon after, ushering the passengers into their seats and securing their seat belts. House found his seat to be the one next to the woman. Allison's her name . . . I think.

As Boeing 747 lifted off into the air and started its steady incline, House turned his head. "So, what do you write?" he said, over the noise of the air flow.

Cameron widened her eyes. "How do you know I write?"

I'm a detective. House grinned as he thought. "Oh I know a lot more than that . . ." he arched his brows. ". . . Ms. Cameron."

Cameron's jaws dropped in both shock and confusion. The roar of the piercing air pressure was at its climax in her ears. She stared in bewilderment at the smugness on House's face and shouted something inaudible. He could form out what she was saying, but pretended he could not comprehend. Cameron was left dangling in the nauseating noise.

> > >

"So it was the callus on my hand?" Cameron was studying intently at her palms. "And by that, you drew to the conclusion that I am a writer? How do you know my name?"

Boeing had reached its desired height and was now flying steadily through the cold atmosphere. An attendant came forth and asked for their order of beverages. House took a cup of black coffee an ignored both of Cameron's questions. "Why did you decide to write that article?" he wrapped his fingers around the cup and let its warmth flow up his veins.

"What?" Cameron did her best to suppress her alarm. "I-I don't know what you're talking about." She avoided his gaze by choosing a drink absent mindedly. "What article?"

House chuckled softly. Ah . . . playing innocent isn't going to work on me. "You know what I'm talking about." He glanced at the flight attendant, precautions definitely needs to be taken around the public. "Don't worry though, I won't spill your secret. Not here in the first class cabin of a passenger plane. Even if it is full of rich snobs that don't give a damn what's happening in the world. Well . . . as long as their 3 million dollars silverware isn't affected."

House felt a disapproving stare from the attendant, but he couldn't help but look smug. He also couldn't deny the fact that he was somewhat surprised when his new found company let out a small laugh. One would think she'd find this not even the least amusing. "Very true." She nodded. "But just for your information, I don't own anything remotely close to a set of plates worth 3 million dollars."

"Oh I don't know about that, but you sure are wealthy. How much does a high-profiled journalist make a year? $90,000? That's more than a de—" House caught himself just in time. Shit. Wouldn't want to be giving away that piece of information. "—more than a decade's worth of greens I'll ever get. And as for the snob part . . ."

Cameron silenced him with a raised eyebrow, almost daring him to go on. At that moment, she felt something between them. There was a . . . connection, was the only way she could put it. He was certainly easy to be around with.

Cameron opened her mouth to question his thoughts on her being a journalist when an "ahem" came from above. She looked up and saw an irritated flight attendant. "I'm sorry ma'am, but there are other passengers waiting to be served and if you don't decide—"

"—oh I'm so sorry, I forgot about this. Umm . . ." Cameron felt her cheeks flush and bit her lip. She had perhaps enjoyed their conversation just a little too much. "I'll uh, take the latté thanks." She had her lips pursed as the uniformed woman set her drink down and marched on to the next passenger with her trolley.

"Hmm. 'Guess they're human after all eh? They do have a patience span like the rest of us, interesting." House took a swig of his coffee.

Cameron muffled a laugh. She cupped the latté in her hands and raised it slightly to take in its sweet aroma. "Mm . . . airplane food isn't actually so bad."

House arched his brows. "Then you definitely need to try their casserole." He shivered and added sarcastically. "Delicious." Taking out a set of headphone from the side pocket of his seat, House started experimenting with the selection controls.

"You must do this a lot then, since you know." Cameron touched her lips to the foam of her latté and took a sip.

"Oh yes, music is life." House's fingers were taking on a life of their own as they started drumming to the beat of the music. With his free hand, he brought it up and tapped it above his mouth, communicating silently to Cameron with a flicker of his eyes.

"Hmm . . ? Oh! Thanks." The young woman realized that her upper lip was rimmed with the latté foam and quickly dabbed it off with a napkin. Real smooth Allison. "And actually, I meant traveling by plane, but I agree. Music is incredible. You can express every one of the emotions a human being can feel, and more." She now had her own headphones over her ears. "What are you listening to?"

"Go to 38." House had his eyes closed.

"Jazz huh?" the seamless flow of a saxophone sounded in Cameron's ears.

"The mortal legend. Sonny Rollins."

And for a long time after that, not a single word was exchanged between the two. Not that there needed to be. The music spoke out to them clearer than anything ever could.

When House's eyes slowly opened and started to focus, he was not aware of the fact that Cameron had fallen asleep. Fatigue had finally taken over after everything that happened at dawn. She was dreaming of Him. "Allison, I love you. Promise me you'll find happiness again." His voice seemed so far away. "I love you too . . ." Cameron's mumble caught House off guard. ". . . Come back . . ."

"Al—Ms—" House didn't know how to address her. One was too formal and the other too intimate. "Al-lison . . ." he forced it out of himself with a small knit of his brows. Seeing as she seemed not to be roused, House gave up. He reached over and removed her headphones, grimacing as his hand brushed a lock of her soft auburn hair. It was so long ago since he'd been this close to a woman, but he could remember it as if it were yesterday.

Back in Cameron's mind, He spoke again. "Promise me Allison." He was slowly fading away, she wanted to reach out and hold Him, never let go again. "No, come back." She muttered softly. "Promise me . . ."

"I . . . promise . . ." she trailed off and sank back into a deep sleep.

House watched her mumble in her sleep, unaware. Come back? So she lost someone . . . His closed his eyes as he thought of his own loss.

Hurriedly shoving it out of his mind, for now, House stopped a passing uniformed woman. "A blanket if you could." He gestured toward the resting figure beside him.

He nodded his thanks when the woman returned and laid a warm blanket over Cameron. She gave a grateful smile. "Thank you, sir. That's very thoughtful of you."

House looked away. "I'm uh . . . just . . ."

The flight attendant nodded knowingly. "I know. Thank you." She left as another passenger waved her over.

House cursed at himself under his breath. Leaning his head against the window, he watched the soft clouds drift by. It's too bad I have to do this to her . . . but it's the job.

A/N: And there'll be no more smooth sailing after this :)

ACMD