Disclaimer: Don't own House. Just amusing myself.

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews.

OOOO

"House?"

"House!"

What the hell? He shifted a little. His face was stuck to a piece of paper. Then someone poked him on the arm. He decided to ignore it.

"I told you he'd be like this." Another annoying voice.

The owner of the first voice grabbed his shoulder. And shook. Not a very good feeling.

"Would you please wake up?" Impatient and not just a little bit pissed.

"Go t' hell."

"Already been there. Now wake UP!" This time he was all but shoved out of his chair; he had to wake up in a hurry to catch himself before he tumbled over.

"What is your problem?" He looked at Cameron through hung-over eyes. She was standing a foot away with an unpleasant look on her face. He turned his head just a bit – not too much – and saw Wilson across from his desk with a duffle bag in one hand and a box of donuts in the other.

"Are you two eloping?" He sat up a little more. "If you are, please don't take my bag with you. That is my bag isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," answered Cameron, "and it has a change of clothes in it. Take it downstairs to the locker rooms. Shower. Brush your teeth. Then come back up here. There'll be coffee when you get back." She stepped to the side, apparently thinking he would jump up and scurry off to do her bidding.

"Yeah right." He laid his head back down on his desk.

"Wilson." Cameron sounded like a drill sergeant.

"Come on, Greg. You smell like whiskey and God only knows what else. Judging from that little brown bottle there, that's not the only thing you ingested last night."

"Well, at least I didn't finish them off."

"If you had, I'm sure this conversation would be taking a completely different turn. Now get up."

"Give me a donut."

Cameron slammed a bottle of water and three aspirin tablets on the desk in front of him. "You'll get a donut when you show up here looking human again." She nodded at Wilson who put the donuts on the desk, walked around, and gave a good pull on House's arm.

"What the hell is going on?" House glanced at the clock as he stood up. "Christ! It's only 6:30! Can't this wait?"

"Nope. The lady says not." Wilson pushed the bottle of water and the aspirin towards him.

"My leg hurts."

Cameron sighed impatiently. She snatched up the prescription bottle and got one pill out.

"Who knows what this will do to you."

House took the pills and drank all the water without a pause. God, he hated cotton mouth. When he was done, he looked at Cameron. "What are you up to?"

"Strategizing."

He took in her appearance. She was wearing the same ultra-tailored suit she wore when she interviewed for the job. Her hair was pulled back painfully and she was wearing tiny gold studs in her ears. Despite the care she had obviously taken in dressing she looked like hell; her eyes were glazed and smudgy, she was pale, and she had a very slight tremor in her hands.

He stood up to go with Wilson without any more fight because he did not want to get upset again like he had the evening before. Standing there looking at her destroyed was not a good way to avoid that.

Wilson started into the hallway, but Cameron stopped him. "Don't forget the eye drops. He looks like he's been in a frat house all night."

House mustered up a glare for her and then turned to follow Wilson down the hall.

Cameron stood with her arms crossed in front of her, tapping her toe.

She couldn't believe that he had actually been asleep. Granted, the sleep was helped along by some strong drugs and drink, but still… She had spent all night cleaning her apartment. Now her hands smelled like bleach and she had that slight tingly feeling all over her body that came when she stayed up all night. Her eyes were gritty and her head was fuzzy. She even felt a bit nauseous.

She gave herself until noon. At that point, she was sure she would collapse somewhere. Until then, though, they had things to discuss.

The night before, after she had listened to House's message, Allison had stood stock still for about two minutes. Then she had started crying. Loudly. Fifteen minutes later, her chest hurt and her nose was completely stuffed up. Her face was red and her head ached. She got up from the floor where she had sunk down and she walked to the kitchen.

Tea, she had thought, sniffing. I'll brew some tea. She put the kettle on to boil and opened her cupboard. The first cup she saw was one that Randy had bought for her at the Boardwalk. It said, "Doctors Do It With Patience." She stared at it for a second. Then she whacked it off the shelf and onto the floor.

Sweeping up the pieces of the tacky mug had been the start of the whole cleaning spree. By the time her kitchen and living room had been thoroughly disinfected, she was tired enough to try to go to bed.

Two hours later, she was back up and starting on the bathroom. She had not enjoyed one second of sleep.

After the bathroom, she tried had tried for sleep again. No luck.

While she worked on the bedroom, she thought about things. And then she thought some more. What the hell was she going to do when she got in to work in the morning? The entire hospital would be buzzing about her little … well, whatever they'd call it. She had to deal with Cuddy. Foreman and Chase would probably be clued in by that time. And God forbid that she had to see Randy or Stacy.

By three in the morning, Allison had thought of every possible scenario that she might encounter the next day; everything from House in prison to Stacy begging her forgiveness had crossed her mind.

When she got to the one in which she pointed a tongue depressor at a kneeling Randy who immediately poofed away in a cloud of smoke, she realized that it was time to do something constructive. She tried to call House at his place. No answer. She tried to call his office, his cell phone, and his pager. Three more strike-outs.

Worried again and angry at herself for being so, she called Wilson. Julie had answered.

Cameron had come up with some story about a patient who had coded; Julie didn't believe her, but she let Allison talk to her husband anyway. He told her that House was probably still at his office, drunk or high or both. They agreed to meet at the hospital at 6:30; Allison told him to pick up the clothes and toiletries from House's apartment. He didn't argue. He had enough experience with upset women that he knew when just to go along with everything they said.

Allison spent the next two hours watching TV – which at that time of the night was depressing itself. At some point she had begun getting ready for battle, er, work.

Now, she was waiting for House to return so that they could begin to deal. He would fight it, but she would fight harder.

She got the coffee started, opened the donut box and took out a custard-filled, chocolate covered one. House's favorite. She took a huge bite.

OOOO

"3:15," stated Jim Wilson flatly.

"She called you at 3:15?"

"Yep, and then I had to spend the rest of the night convincing Julie that Cameron's call had not been some secret message from my supposed mistress."

"Bet that was fun." They were walking back from the showers. House had showered, brushed his teeth, and used the eye drops. He still felt like hell, but at least he didn't look so bad. Relatively speaking.

"What's she up to?" He asked.

"I'm not sure." Wilson paused. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be better when I get a donut in me. Did you get any of those custard ones?"

"That's not what I mean."

"I know that." They paused to get on the elevator. "You know, it would've been nice of you to let me know the whole story. It sucked having to hear it from Dr. Feel-Up."

"Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't figure it out for yourself."

"You're evading the topic."

"Yes, I am, and I will continue to do so."

"Wimp."

"Actually, I think 'chicken' would be a better description."

House snorted. "You really don't know what she's doing?"

"Nope."

"Is she mad?" He felt like he had when he had pulled the corsage out of the refrigerator.

"At you?" Wilson was amused by the question. "I don't know why she would be, unless it's because you seem to have slept like a drunken baby for most of the night."

They walked back into House's office. Cameron walked up with a donut – glazed – and a cup of coffee. She looked at House. "Better," she stated. She turned her gaze toward Wilson. "You can go now."

Wilson's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, but he smiled a bit andturned to go.

"Who died and made you Cuddy?" House shot at Cameron. He said to Wilson, "you can stay if you want."

"Oh, I value my skin too much." He grabbed a donut. "You can tell me about this later." He left.

"Sit," ordered Sergeant Cameron.

"I have every intention of sitting." He walked around his desk slowly, taking his time to let her think that she was not in charge here. He pulled the donut box towards himself. "Where are the custard-filled ones?"

"There were two. I ate them."

"Nice of you."

"Did you know?" She blurted.

"Did I know what?" He found a jelly-filled one. That would have to do.

"Just answer the question."

"I don't know the question." He studied her. "How much sleep did you get last night?"

"I didn't. Now, did you know?"

"Know what!" He asked, exasperated.

"When you sent me up to get the films, did you know what I would find?" She had a pleading look on her face that he couldn't quite stand seeing.

"I wouldn't…"

She rolled her eyes.

He started again. "Okay, so I would do something like that, but I didn't this time. I had no idea. I didn't even know you were dating Crawford, or anyone for that matter." He stopped and sighed inwardly. Man, he must have really been off. How could he have missed that?

"You had no idea?" She echoed his own thoughts.

"No. I mean I heard things that should have clued me in, I guess. I suppose I just ignored it." He shrugged. "Incredible mind powers, you know." He hoped to see a little grin from her. He didn't.

"Whatever. Second question. What did you mean when you said you had a 'chat' with Dr. Crawford?"

"Is this an interrogation? Shouldn't there be whips or something?" He tried for his trademark flippancy, but it didn't quite sound the same.

"Would you please drop the crap and just answer my question?"

"I talked to him. I broke something on his bookcase, and then I suggested that he take a vacation." He sat back in his chair. "Would you please sit down? You're acting weird and it's making me nervous."

"That's supposed to be my line."

"Yeah, well, I had a few hours of sleep last night. You didn't. Our roles are automatically reversed. Unless of course you didn't sleep because you were hopped up on something."

She pursed her lips. He was going to have to take that as a smile for the moment.

"So you didn't do anything…"

"To get myself arrested? No. Sued? I don't think so."

She sighed in relief. "Good."

He shook his head at her. "Why are you so concerned about my possible arrest record? Why aren't you looking into hit men to go after Crawford?" He didn't say Stacy's name. He wasn't quite ready for that yet.

"That is an excellent question!" She almost shouted. "I spent a good deal of my time yesterday worrying about you. I can't figure it out. I get kicked in the teeth by two men in four months and I spend my time wondering if the first one is handling the fact that the second one was screwing his former girlfriend!"

"That made very little sense." He'd give anything for a diversion right now. Maybe Cuddy would barge in and interrupt. He glanced at the door. No such luck.

"Sorry. Unlike some people, I got no sleep last night." She dropped down in the chair across from his desk, finally. "I can barely think straight."

Before he could respond, she said, "Have you talked to Stacy? I mean, I know that you know. I mean, Wilson told me…"

He cut her off. "You don't need to explain. I don't think I'd understand you anyway. No, I haven't talked to Stacy." He turned his chair to the side so that he wasn't looking at her any more. He didn't know which was worse, having Cameron admit that she was worried about him despite his treatment of her, or talking to her about Stacy.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that. I don't have any right …"

"You have every right! God, I hate it when you do that." He had turned back toward her. "She had sex with your boyfriend, and you walked in on it. I have no claim on her, but you had some claim on him. Seems to me that I should be asking you if you've talked to her." He picked up the giant tennis ball from his desk. "I'm furious with her, though."

"Of course you are." Cameron said quietly. She wasn't surprised that he felt that way.

House looked at Allison for a moment. He knew what she was thinking, but he didn't want to tell her that she was wrong. He wasn't ready to explain that his fury at Stacy wasn't directed at what she had done to him. Like he had said, he had no claim on her. She could screw whomever she wanted, almost. He was angry because she had chosen Cameron's boyfriend. He was angry because Allison had been hurt, and he didn't quite know what to make of that.

Cameron was worried about him and he was worried about her. Just peachy. He chuckled ruefully.

"What's so funny?" She asked.

"Nothing." He looked in the donut box again. "So, you said you were here to strategize. You feel like you need a plan for some reason?"

"Of course I do. I am not going to spend my day or the next couple of weeks for that matter being on the receiving end of pity. I hate that. I hate pity." She was a little more fired up. He imagined, though, that she was too tired to work up a full head of steam. Perhaps it was time for a little levity.

"So, what do you want to do? Want to lock Cuddy and Chase in a closet together and broadcast the action over the hospital's TV channel? That should take some of the attention off of yesterday's drama."

He got a tiny grin for that one.

"How about Cuddy, Chase, and Foreman?" The grin shifted to a smile. "How about just Chase and Foreman? Now that would be something to talk about." She chuckled, but then her smile faded again.

"I don't know what to do. I thought if I made sure that we were both here and looking normal, it would make things easier. I'm just not feeling very normal." She sighed. "I'm embarrassed."

"Yeah. Well, having been the dumped party once before, I think that unless you want to end up like me – bitter and capable of scaring young children– you'd better just ignore it."

"Ignore it?" She looked at him like he was crazy.

"Blow it off. If any one asks, tell them to go to hell. Tell them that if they're really curious, Crawford will be releasing the video in time for Christmas."

She was quiet for a moment. "How will you handle it?"

Damn it. She really needed to stop that. "I'll just beat them with the cane."

"Maybe you'd be better off telling them to go to hell."

"Not as much fun. Anyway, I've worked very hard to make sure that no one around here would dare ask me a question about something like that."

No one except the woman sitting in front of him. She would ask if she felt the situation called for it, and she would probably worm it out of him no matter how hard he fought her.

She stood up. "I have to meet with Cuddy at eight. Guess I shouldn't have skipped out on clinic duty."

"I seriously doubt that she's too worried about that. She does know what happened yesterday, you know, and she's not completely heartless."

"Yeah.Think I should tell her about the video?" She yawned and stretched up onto her tiptoes.

"Sure. She might have brought her sense of humor along today." He wanted Allison to go home. She didn't need to be there.

Allison looked at the clock. It was well after seven. "Guess I'll go get the mail."

"We didn't get much of a strategy put together."

"I don't suppose there is much we can do. Just tell Wilson that we came up with something diabolical so that he doesn't kill me for dragging him in here." She turned towards the door but stopped. "Why are you being so nice to me about this?"

Of course she had to ask. "Guess I'm too hung over to be mean."

She looked at him. "No, that usually makes you more of a bastard." She shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Thanks."

He waited until he couldn't hear her heels in the silent hallway, then he dropped his arm back and whiffed the tennis ball across the room.