"I don't want to be here," she said quietly, almost to herself, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Define 'here'" House said. "Here in this room? This hospital? This plane of existence?"

"This job," she answered sadly, her voice just a whisper.

"I don't recall that being one of the options," House said, hiding his surprise.

Cameron was silent, her eyes still on the rain.

House couldn't decide whether her answer, or her silence, was more unnerving. It had been more than a month since their disastrous "date," followed by the possibly even more awkward return of "the woman he used to live with"--Stacy.

Initially he'd done his best to steer clear of Cameron in any scenario that involved just the two of them in a confined space, dreading the post-date talk he was sure she was itching to have, a conversation he was certain would involve lots of talk about feelings. Oddly enough, except for her ill-timed approach outside Stacy's husband's room, she never again cornered him, and never mentioned the date.

Wrapped up in the walk down memory lane that Stacy's presence prompted, it took House a few weeks to realize that something was wrong, something was missing. He couldn't put his finger on it, since Stacy coming back into his life shouldn't have left him feeling vaguely bereft. Logically, it should have been exactly the opposite, especially since they had been spending some time together, random pockets, five minutes here, fifteen minutes there, catching up and feeling their way…to what, he tried not to think about.

Which left him pondering why it was that something still felt off? After a few uncharacteristically introspective moments, House realized the unthinkable—Cameron was in fact, steering clear of him.

There had been no attempts to draw him out with small talk, no longing looks, no post-it notes with loopy G's, reminding him of his clinic hours, or a possibly interesting case. She was avoiding him like the plague.

Eureka, he'd done it! Convinced her to give up her quest to fix him, heal him, screw him, whatever. She'd seen the err of her ways. He was free.

This sense of celebration lasted exactly three minutes.