Behind the Walls of Sleep

He went down again, his head disappearing under the dark water. It was night, but she could plainly see him, illuminated either by the full moon or the bright street lamp that must have been behind her. She watched him, saying nothing, just staring back at her as he slowly submerged. His white shirt billowed around him and floated on the surface. She sat on the beach, his cane just out of reach. She tried to scream for help but she couldn't. It didn't matter; the surf pounded the shore so loudly that no one would have heard her. She tried to stand up, but her legs wouldn't work. She reached for his cane, but it kept moving further away from her. House was drowning and Allison could only watch, paralyzed with fear. She beat the sand in frustration, "House!" She screamed, "Swim Dammit!"

Cameron sat up in bed. The room was dark and silent, a stark contrast from the waves of her nightmare. "Oh my God." She gulped for air and her pulse raced. It was so real. A weight pressed against her chest, her emotions were engaged and suddenly she sobbed, with fright, sadness and frustration.

It took about twenty minutes, but finally she calmed down. She checked her clock. It was four-thirty. It was still dark outside and she bit her lip. The phone was in her hand and she debated. Her thumb hovered over the re-dial button. He would understand. She called him.

It rang three times before he answered it, "Foreman," he croaked.

"Eric, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but I've got to talk to someone." Her voice wavered and she thought she was going to cry again.

"Allison? What's wrong?"

She had roused her friend at the crack of dawn, and now she felt too stupid to tell him why. She took a deep breath. "I had a bad dream."

He sighed, "A bad dream? I doubt that's all. Was it about House?" There was a lot of heavy lifting in this friendship. He rolled over.

"I'm sorry. It was so scary and disturbing. I just needed to talk to someone. Go back to sleep, I'll see you at work." She waited.

"You're not hanging up."

"No. I didn't mean it." She leaned over and turned on a light.

"I'll meet you at the pancake house on Nassau in thirty minutes." He hung up.

She snagged a table and ordered him breakfast. He slid into the booth and grabbed his coffee. "Cream?"

She shoved the bowl of creamers towards him. "It's real half-and-half."

She waited for him to take a sip, before she spoke. "I really appreciate your coming."

He drank down half his cup, "I'm here. So tell me about your dream."

While they waited for their breakfast she told him all about it. The fear, the helplessness and how emotional she was when she woke. The waitress brought their food just as she finished.

"I don't understand why I was so…upset." She forked a piece of cantaloupe.

He shrugged, "Your dreams are your brain's way of clearing out all the stuff you don't need, or the stuff that you haven't dealt with. Where do you think it came from?"

She peppered her poached eggs and thought, "I think it has to do with what he told me on our date."

"You know, I wondered when you were going to tell me about that." He combined maple and boysenberry syrup on his pancakes.

"Save me a bite of those," she said. She sipped her coffee, "He brought me a corsage. Roses."

"A corsage? Interesting. Corny." Purple syrup dripped on his tie. "Damn." He dipped his napkin in his water glass and blotted.

"It was sweet. He made an effort. He wore a tie, he ironed his shirt. He looked good." She gazed off at the memory.

"Stay with me here. So what happened?"

"I knew that I only had that one chance to really know what he was thinking. He came to my apartment twice and begged me to come back to work. I had a pretty good idea that he liked me as much as I liked him. He knew that's why I came back. I wanted him to say it." She toyed with her spoon.

"Of course he likes you. Please, it's only obvious." He pushed the plate with the remains of his pancakes towards her.

She carefully cut them into six even pieces and nibbled the first one. "Okay, so we're agreed, the only one who doesn't know it is him. So we get to dinner and I think it was the first date that he'd been on in about a decade. I told him that I didn't want to know what wine he liked or what movies he hated, I just wanted to know what he felt about me."

Foreman dropped his fork, "No. Tell me you didn't." He smacked his forehead. "That is so estrogen driven I think you just gave me a vagina."

"I just don't want to play games."

Foreman shook his head, "That's not games. You don't ask stuff like that on a first date. So, how quickly did he limp out of there? I'm guessing he broke a land-speed record."

"Not before telling me that I wasn't capable of loving him. That I had a pathological need for him. That I had a delusion that I could fix him. So I guess that's how he felt." She bit her lip and tried not to tear up. "So I cowboy'd up, ate my macaroni and I was home in time for 'Sex and the City."

"Harsh." Foreman said flagging down the waitress for a refill on his coffee.

"Yeah. He doesn't think very much of me." She ate another piece of pancake, "Oh, shit."

"What?" He continued to stir his cream in.

"He wasn't telling me what he thought about me." She shoved aside the pancakes, "he was telling me what he was afraid of. It had nothing to do with me. It's all him.

She threw a twenty on the table. "I've got to go. I've got to talk to him. He actually believes that the only person who could care about him has got to be unbalanced in some way."

"Slow down." He pointed for her to sit. "The very worst thing you could do is to go rushing into his office and…vomit up this amazing revelation. They let you walk around on your own without a keeper?"

"So what do I do?" She sat half-way in the booth, as though ready to spring into action.

"Nothing. Don't do anything. Am I growing breasts? Let's get together tonight and we'll braid each other's hair." He rolled his eyes, "Apparently there wasn't a strong female role model at your house. So we're going to do things my way."

"Eric, I told you I don't want to play games. There's nothing wrong with just being honest."

He slammed the table, causing his water glass to skid in a pool of condensation. "Honest? There is nothing honest about relationships. They are fabricated out of unexpressed thoughts and company manners."

Cameron laughed, "You don't mean that."

"Okay, I don't mean that entirely, but you have got to stop wearing your heart on your sleeve. A little mystery is a good thing. I'll admit that House is a guy who needs to know that he's not going to be rejected, but you can't just serve yourself up on a plate. He knows that he wants you around, but he's got unresolved feelings about his ex too. Just keep doing what you're doing. Let him come to you."

Cameron drew patterns in the puddle of water with her knife. "I understand what you're saying. I'm supposed to be chased after. If he doesn't come after me, then he doesn't want me. That sounds good in theory, but look around, he's not chasing after me. I just know that if he only gave me a chance…"

"Don't be naïve. He wants you as much as you want him, but until he's ready all you're doing is giving him reason after reason to not chase you. Look what you've done already. If you had played it differently you could be waking his ass up with this nonsense instead of mine." He got up, "If we leave now, we'll only be two hours early for work."

Cameron sat at House's desk sorting his mail. She was sidetracked by JAMA and was scanning the articles, looking to see if there was something to highlight for House. She didn't hear him come in.

"Another sleepless night?" He hung his lab coat on the hook behind the door.

"Sorry?" She put the journal down and stood up.

He waved her back into her seat and sat opposite her in one of the visitor chairs. He put his Nike's up on the desk and leaned back. "You look tired."

"I am a little." She again stood up.

"Don't go. Keep me company for a minute. So who's the one putting those circles under your eyes?" He flipped through his junk mail and put it in the round file.

"You are." She reached over and flipped on the shuffle on his iPod. PIL's This is Not a Love Song blasted through the speakers. She turned down the sound to a bearable level.

"Gosh, and I thought it was all just a beautiful dream. Did you fly into my window at night?" He didn't even look up.

"Do you have that stuff on auto-pilot or something? A sarcastic remark for every occasion?" She too, propped her feet up on the desk, giving him a decent view of her pink underwear.

"Pretty much. So were you wondering if I was getting enough to eat, or was your concern more about my emotional health?" He popped a Vicodin. "Because there's no need to worry your pretty little head, I'm A-OK."

"I'm not worried about you. I know that you're okay. You must admit that it is awkward between us though. Sometimes I wonder what it is you want me around for. But," she rose, "I've made my peace with it. I like my job, I like my colleagues. I'm doing good work here. You'll sort yourself out eventually. In the meantime, enjoy the view." She walked out towards the lab. She hoped he liked the sashay that she added especially for him.

Chase sat at the microscope, sorting through slides. "Hey, is House here yet? Some guy at CDC has a question about Mrs. Riley."

"He's in his office. He's in a 'reflective' mood. He just had a dose. Give him thirty minutes, he'll be super-mellow. Give me half, I'll help." She took a tray of slides.

"I met this girl last night." He continued to make his notes while he spoke.

"And today ends in 'Y'. Did you actually call the number? It's not Dominoes is it?" She smiled.

"No. It's a real number. I'm taking her out on Saturday." He reached for the next slide.

"Ohh. Date night. Going anywhere special?"

"Maybe drive into The City? Or should we go for a walk on the beach?" He leaned back.

"Not the beach." She shuddered, "New York on the first date? Why not Bennegans and a movie? Don't invest so much up front. It makes you look desperate." She squinted into the scope, "this one's mismarked." She set it aside for later.

"I want to make a good impression."

"If she likes you, she'll be happy just to spend time with you. Wait for the third date. Then go all out. Be sure to bring condoms."

House poked his head in, "Speaking from experience Cameron?"

"Absolutely. You know what the Boy Scouts say, be prepared." She swung her legs around, keeping her knees together, elegant and sexy all at the same time.

He swallowed, "Clinic called, they're backed up. I'm sending you two, maybe they won't want me. Find Foreman and make him go too."

"Where are you going to be?" Cameron asked.

"I'll be wherever people hunger for justice, I'll be wherever a man just wants a fair deal, I'll be in the laughter of a little child…" He clutched his hand to his chest as he recited.

"Right, the lounge in maternity watching your soap." She put her glasses in her lab coat pocket.

Chase went looking for Foreman who was sleeping in the resident's lounge. House held Cameron back. "You know, I am enjoying the view."

"You always did." She fixed him with a stare, "Has anything changed?"

"You. You've changed completely." He was clearly on the best part of the Vicodin, the edge was off the pain and his muscles had untensed, the stage he called bulletproof.

"For the better I hope." She waited for him to say something and instead was treated to four different facial expressions. "You know, if you stopped mentally editing what you were going to say to me and instead just said it, it might be a good thing."

He grimaced, "I doubt it."

She shrugged, "Okay, I've got to go. Those noses won't blow themselves."

"Cameron. Wait." He stared at the ceiling momentarily.

"I'm waiting." She leaned against the door jam.

"No. I mean, wait." His eyes were moist; and deeper and more formidable than the sea.

It was her turn to edit her thoughts. How long? For what? Why? Pushing all of her need and desire out of her head, she smiled at him and touched his cheek, "As long as I can."

She turned and walked towards the clinic, heels clicking on the linoleum and her hips swaying gently side to side.

House watched until she disappeared behind the double doors at the end of the hall.