Well, a bit of a wait for you guys, but not too long, and this chapter is a bit longer. The "story" is now up to 190pages! Truly monstrous... As usual, thank you all for your kind words and support :)

Chapter 21

They held hands all the way into the bedroom, and then House pulled her tightly into his embrace and kissed her almost savagely, teeth knocking against hers, mouth slanted to cover as much of hers as possible. Cameron was startled by the intensity, but when his tongue pressed for entrance, she sighed and allowed it inside.

House was getting better with words, but there were still so many things he felt incapable of vocalizing. There were torrents of emotion that could only be released through his hands, his mouth, his body. When he'd gone to her apartment the night had been spent in tenderness, with gratitude the foremost thought in his mind. Now he loosed all of the rest of his feelings as he gripped her hips and her shoulders, holding her in place against his hardening body.

One mistake. One asinine move on his part had almost cost him this. Almost cost him the feel of her slim back beneath his hand, and the silk of her hair, like water cascading over his wrist. He pulled back far enough to pull her sweater over her head, and then held her close again, ravaging her neck and shoulder, breathing in the scent of her skin, and thanking God, Wilson and Cameron that he hadn't already fucked things up beyond repair.

He was dimly aware of her silken lips against his ear, and the soft, breathy voice emanating from them. He could feel her words thrumming beneath his mouth at the base of her throat.

"Slow down… we've got all night," she whispered, her tone impish yet slightly bewildered.

His hands froze as he only then noticed how rough he was being. Damn. One more thing to berate himself about. Callused fingertips soothed reddened skin, and his tongue washed over the mark he'd left on her neck. He looked down at her, with apology shining in the depths of his clear eyes and visible even in the darkened room. She merely smiled at him, rather shyly, and raised one hand to touch the side of his face.

"Bed?" she asked softly, and he nodded and quickly undressed.

He knew his actions were halting and clumsy, the inevitable curse of his crippled leg, but as usual she seemed not to notice, and even looked away, either by design or by accident, when he was in his most awkward positions. In some dim part of his mind he knew that she had to be granting him that slim bit of privacy on purpose. The only other women he'd been with since his infarction had stared openly, or worse yet, attempted to help. Only Cameron, silly, naïve, little Cameron, had always looked away, or through or over him, as if his motions were the most natural of which the human body was capable.

Crawling between the sheets, he reached out his hand, and she grabbed it this time she was the one to pull him closer. Their eyes met an instant before their mouths, and House was grateful that arousal was pushing aside the annoying lump in his throat.

Every touch and kiss increased in intensity until House had to remind himself again that she was still recovering. His fingers ran carefully along her scar and he kissed the top of it reverently, as he had every time they'd come together. It had become a talisman for him in a way, a symbol of her continued life. Her hand on the back of his neck urged his mouth away from it and back to her lips, and he allowed it, feeling, in the split-seconds of passion, that he would allow her almost anything.

Grasping fingers, searching mouths, and heat were all they knew for an unknowable space of time. Words became sighs and guttural noises. The moonlight tossed them both into shadowy relief, but as passion reached its apex House kept his eyes trained on Cameron's face. Her eyes were closed, lips parted as breath came fast and shallow and her sinewy neck arched, graceful and perfect. At last she called out his name and he was undone, burying his face in her hair and letting it muffle his shout.

"Greg," she repeated it over and over again as she stroked her fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck.

His mouth curled around her name, but he couldn't say it. He was frozen at the thought that it wouldn't sound natural coming from him, not the way his name sounded, so sweet and clear, falling from her swollen lips. He kissed her again to silence her. Physical intensity he could take, but the emotional side left him feeling strangely fulfilled, yet woefully inadequate as he pulled in all Cameron could give but returned so little to her. He rolled away, wincing only slightly before pulling her close with one hand around her shoulders.

The shadows along the bed and the walls shifted as time passed and breathing settled into a peaceful cadence. Both pairs of eyes were closed, and House knew that Cameron thought he was asleep, but he heard her words clearly, and stored them away along with the sound of his name and another silent promise not to fuck things up.

"I do love you," she whispered, breath hot against his chest, "and I don't care if you can never say those words to me."


By the time morning came they had drifted apart, as usual, yet still remained touching slightly. He was on his back with a hand curled in her hair on the pillow, and she was on her side with one leg bent, shinbone pressing against his hip. He was the first to wake, and he sifted her hair through his fingers as if weighing it. The gentle tugging was enough to rouse her and she blinked at him sleepily.

"So I guess you'd be upset if I cut it all off," she said, still bathed in the warmth of sleep.

"Yes. So don't," he replied, turning his head to look at her.

The sight of her in his bed, sprawled against pale grey sheets and wearing his shirt was enough to make him want to call in sick, but he had a feeling that Cuddy would be somewhat less receptive of that two days in a row. He forced himself to look away, and then rolled over and grabbed his pills from the nightstand. Two tumbled out into his palm, but he only swallowed one, and tilted the other back into the bottle.

"I'd better fill out those forms so you can bring them in," Cameron said as she swung her legs out of the bed and stood up. "Should I make coffee?"

As she walked into his field of vision, clad, as far as he knew, only in the t-shirt that fell to the mid-thigh, House was again hit with the instant desire to grab her and pull her back into the bed. He groaned and maneuvered himself out of it instead.

"Yeah. It'll be the only decent cup I get all day. Thank God you're coming back on Monday."

"Good to know I'm useful," Cameron said, playfully sarcastic.

"Definitely. I've got a stack of mail in need of girly-Gs and I still can't find the sugar." He walked into the bathroom as he spoke, leaving Cameron to roll her eyes and grin.


House was a known bastard, and there were several reasons he was glad about that. One of them was definitely the fact that other members of the hospital staff invariably discovered that they'd either forgotten something important or really needed to take the stairs when the sliding doors opened and they saw him in the elevator. He tapped his cane in time with the music blaring from his iPod and watched the numbers above the doors light up in sequence. A tinny ding that he couldn't hear and then the doors parted and he stepped out onto his floor.

He didn't hear the sound of expensive shoes behind him and was startled at the touch of a hand on his arm. Quick reflexes spared Wilson a cane-jab to the gut. House glared at him and pulled the earphones out, letting them dangle from his breast pocket.

"Let me guess. You just risked life and limb to tell me that I was right and my patient is now recovering from surgery and will be able to leave the hospital within a week."

Wilson, as always, was immune to House's snide tone. "Got it in one."

House nodded and continued down the hall towards his office. "Good. Maybe the next patient will actually present with something challenging."

The fact that the patient in question had gone to three specialists with nothing to show for it other than a worsening condition seemed to have slipped House's mind. Wilson rolled his eyes and trailed after him. It was strange that some of House's egotism took the form of downplaying his own successes.

"Still here, eh? I'm going to start thinking you're a member of my team and start treating you like crap," House said mildly.

"You already treat me like crap, so how would I know the difference?" He said with a grin.

House sneered at him. One-upped in his own office. He needed to work on his bantering skills.

"Speaking of teams, have you told yours that Dr. Cameron is coming back?"

The coffee in his mug was cold, bitter and sugarless. House looked at it with contempt and set it back on the desk, watching it slosh over the side and drip onto the mail.

"Nope. They're smart boys. They're bound to figure it out when she comes through the door."

Wilson chuckled. "So I guess you won't be throwing her a 'welcome back' party."

Blue eyes bored into him, and he laughed again, then turned to leave the office.

"Hey. I need a favor."

Wilson stopped walking and looked up with surprise. House often needed favors, but he rarely asked for them, preferring to either demand them or simply assume that his needs would be met automatically.

"What kind of favor?"

"Talk to your buddy Paulson and get an appointment for Cameron. I know he's got a waiting list six months long, so make him squeeze her in." House appeared to be concentrating on a patient file and barely looked at his friend.

Wilson walked back to the middle of the office, forehead wrinkling in amusement and puzzlement. "You want me to get her an appointment with a plastic surgeon? What, is that the newest one-week anniversary gift? No wonder all my wives left me."

With his eyes rolling towards the ceiling and his fingers drumming along the edge of his file, House was the picture of exasperation. "She wants the scar removed. The scar I fucking gave her, so could you just make the appointment?"

Amusement faded into understanding. "She told you that?"

"No. The fact that she pulls on any available clothing as soon as possible after…" he stopped speaking abruptly and his lips rolled into a grimace. "Trust me. She wants it gone."

Wilson folded his arms and looked at House sympathetically. "No offense, Greg, but assuming that your girlfriend wants plastic surgery? Not the best idea. Might possibly convey the wrong impression."

"Girlfriend?" House said distastefully, ignoring the rest of Wilson's advice. "Haven't we come up with a better word than that?"

"Partner? Paramour?"

"I'm not gay and I'm not French."

"Lover?" Wilson said, waggling his eyebrows.

House's glare was set at a force ten deathray.

"Just going by the available evidence," Wilson continued with a smirk.

"Unlike your trysts, I'd like to think there's more to the relationship than sex."

"Ooh, that stung," Wilson grabbed his chest in mock injury. "Significant other?"

That was met with another expression of dislike. "I think I know why people get married right out of high school. Husband and wife have a certain ring to them."

"True, but I think Cameron requires more than a week of dating before she'll agree to marriage." He chose that moment to head for the door and avoid the possibility of being hit by a flying cane.

"Wilson."

Again, he halted in his tracks.

"I'll talk to Paulson," he said without turning around.

"Thanks."


Cameron's apartment was spotless. She knew it was spotless because she had just spent the morning cleaning it room by room. It hadn't even been particularly dirty since she'd spent the majority of her imposed recovery time in either her bedroom or the living room, but spring had brought with it a layer of pollen and it had felt good to get things dusted, vacuumed and organized again. The fact that she got almost as much satisfaction out of a clean apartment as she did from making a good call at the hospital was not lost on her. She chalked it up to being one of the traits passed on from her mother, completely forgetting the almost compulsive organization with which her father ran their farm.

It felt nice to be tired and achey from something other than a walk down the stairs, and she lowered herself to the sofa with a contented sigh. Her smile turned into a smirk as she acknowledged that her recent activities with House had also left her somewhat tired and slightly achey. Of course it was a completely different kind of ache.

Thinking about him led to missing him and she picked up the remote and turned on the television in an effort to distract herself. Great. Nothing but soap operas. Not exactly a distraction as she considered what his reaction would be to the plot-twists du jour. She turned the volume down and picked up the phone instead. He was probably holed up in his office trying to watch the show. He'd said she could call. Well, more precisely, he'd said she could call his home in the middle of the night, but he probably wouldn't hang up on her.

Her apartment, however clean, felt empty and lonely without him there and she was annoyed that she couldn't shake that feeling. Mentally, psychologically, she knew that weeks of almost daily contact were bound to lead to a certain dependency, but it still made her uncomfortable to admit to herself, nevermind him. She had already loved him in the abstract, but now she loved him in reality, and the truth of that was almost shocking to her.

Damnit, she wasn't in high school. If she wanted to call her damn boyfriend, then she could damn well do it. She winced as her mind passed over that one word. Eesh. They really needed to come up with something better than that. While she was thinking of alternatives, and before she could change her mind, she hit speed dial on the telephone.

"Not interested!" House picked up on the second ring.

"Hey, it's me," Cameron replied quickly before he could hang up. She could hear his chair squeaking as he moved. Probably taking his feet down from the top of his desk.

"Hey. Everything all right? You need something?"

Cameron was surprised at his slightly alarmed tone, and then she realized that the only times she had ever called him were when she was upset.

"I'm fine," she hurried to reassure him. "I don't need anything. I want something."

"Oh. Okay. What do you want?" Now House sounded confused.

"Dinner with you tonight. You don't have to cook. You can just come over and I'll order something."

There was silence from House, and Cameron nervously switched the phone to her other ear. She'd been doing a pretty good… okay, adequate… okay, fairly pathetic job of presenting herself as a strong, independent woman. She could now mark another notch in her belt. And here calling him had seemed like such a brazen thing to do…

"Lonely?"

Cameron swallowed and licked her lips, tugging the lower one between her teeth. "Well, I am alone," she stated the obvious.

"Six-thirty work for you?"

She took a deep breath to settle herself. "That would be fine."

"Okay then. Six-thirty."

"Wait!" Cameron stopped him from hanging up with her short exclamation.

"Something else?" He sounded concerned rather than annoyed. That was good.

"I just… Look… I know you're probably feeling crowded, and I told you I'm not the clingy type, so I'm sorry I keep coming across that way. I think once I have work to keep me occupied… I'm just…"

"Cameron." Her name from his lips silenced her.

"Yeah?"

"Too nice, naïve, emotional, empathetic, determined, stubborn, stoic, trusting, foolish and smart. You'll notice that clingy is conspicuous in its absence."

Her smile returned as relief prickled her skin. "Thanks," she murmured. Then, a second later, and with a touch of playfulness: "Wait a second. Foolish? When?"

"I can think of at least one decision that fits the bill," he said dryly.

"I think you're confusing foolish with smitten."

"Either way the results were the same."

"Thank goodness," she replied with true gratitude infusing her words.

"I'll see you tonight."

"Go save some lives."

"Cameron?"

"Putting in your food requests now?" she asked.

"No." A pause and then, "I've been lonely too."

Cameron didn't know how to respond, but luckily she was spared the need to because House hung up as soon as his words reached her ear.


Dinner that night was Chinese food, followed by a patently ridiculous sci-fi movie and the peaceful sensation of drifting to sleep while knowing the person you care about is beside you. They hadn't made love. They hadn't even slept in the nude. House was appalled by the sappy sentiment that flashed in his brain just before he fell asleep and yet he couldn't deny the truthfulness of it. Sometimes just being close really was better than sex.

They spent most of Saturday together, wandering down to the river to watch the skullers and bringing a picnic lunch courtesy of the deli down the street from Cameron's place. It was normal and comfortable; two things that were rapidly beginning to define their relationship. House didn't look away when she smiled anymore, unless it was the wide open, heart-stopping variety.

Evening found them dodging raindrops once again, and seeking refuge in a little Italian restaurant. Good food, warm atmosphere, and House snarking on the assorted patrons. Cameron couldn't ask for more, especially not when his hand so frequently found hers and his eyes held that mystified gratefulness as if he still couldn't quite believe the recent turn of events.

His bed was a less than restful place that night, and it was close to three in the morning by the time they finally let sleep claim them, hands entwined on the mattress between them.

House had dropped her off at her apartment late the next morning, and he hadn't seen or spoken to her since. She had told him that she needed to gather herself together for work in the morning, which he could understand. As he walked down the hallway towards his office he was looking forward to seeing her sitting at his desk calmly sorting the mail.

Disappointment was the first emotion to pass through him as he glanced through the blinds and saw his empty chair. His face contorted into a few more expressions before any on-lookers could get the wrong impression. He was still a heartless bastard, after all. Heartless bastards didn't get disappointed. The steps through the door and around his desk were much slower than the ones that had carried him from the garage to the office door. The chair squeaked as he sat down and he let out an annoyed sigh and mentally rolled his eyes and bent to open his lower desk drawer and retrieve his gameboy.

"Knock-knock?"

House wiped the ridiculous grin off his face before straightening up to face the new arrival. "You realize saying 'knock-knock' after entering defeats the whole purpose," he commented.

"Hadn't thought about it," Cameron said as she held out his mug, steam wafting from within. "Accept this as an apology for my poor manners."

She grinned as he took a sip and sighed in pleasure. "It may take a few more mornings with coffee like this before you're completely forgiven."

"I think that can be arranged."

"Have you seen the rest of our merry band?" he inquired.

"Not yet. I was in Dr. Cuddy's office signing a few more forms."

"Figures. The woman must get paid by the page." He took another sip and allowed his pleasure at her presence to be transmitted through his eyes before blinking once, slowly, and pushing all personal feelings as far down as possible. When he opened his eyes Cameron was looking at him with what he guessed was an expression identical to his own. "Ready to get to work saving the idiots of the world?"

"Very ready."

"Good. Why don't you head down to the conference room. They'll be all gushy and mushy and I don't want to get any of that on me. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Sounds good." She headed to the door and smiled at him, just a small, quick one. "It's good to be back, Dr. House."

"Good to have you back, Dr. Cameron."


"Good morning, guys. What's on the table for today?" Cameron walked in looking more confident than she felt, although she wasn't exactly certain what was causing her nervousness.

"Cameron! You're back!" Foreman exclaimed as he jumped up and met her in the middle of the room.

He threw his arms around her and pulled her into a warm hug, then quickly stepped back when she let out a little grunt of pain.

"Sorry 'bout that," he said, unable to completely erase his smile despite feeling bad about hurting her. "Don't know my own strength."

She grinned at him, one of those pleased grins that reached right to her eyes. "That's okay. It was worth it."

Chase was on his feet by that time and he leaned against a chair and offered Cameron his hand. "Glad to see you came to your senses and decided that it was bad enough just working for the ol' bastard," he said as they shook hands.

Cameron's expression went from happy to distressed in approximately a nanosecond.

Foreman glowered at Chase and the blond doctor took a step back and held up both hands.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Don't get excited," he directed those remarks at Foreman. "Allison, are you telling me that you're seeing him and you're still coming back to work here?"

Cameron's feelings were quickly shifting. She'd started out upset and a little embarrassed that her still very fragile relationship with House seemed to be fodder for the hospital rumor mill, but now she was becoming angry.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said," Chase replied. "How's it going to look? You're sleeping with your boss for God's sake!"

"Fuck off, Chase," Foreman growled. He was beginning to wonder why he'd seen House as a threat to Cameron's happiness when Chase was a much closer target.

"I'm just being honest!"

Cameron put her hands on her hips and stared Chase down. "We can keep our personal lives out of the hospital," she said hotly.

Chase sniffed. "Yeah. We'll see how long that lasts."

Foreman would have said something else, but House chose that moment to make an appearance.

Limping through the door, House tried to judge the looks being thrown around the room. He had a relatively good idea of what had been said prior to his arrival just based on Cameron's expression.

"Oh goodie. I see you've met the newest Houseketeer. I trust introductions were short?" he said as he crossed to the whiteboard and slid three identical patient charts across the table to the places where the three other doctors normally sat. "We've got a guy croaking down in ICU, so let's see if we can't prolong his life a bit."