A/N: I had to watch the Stacy episodes again before I took on the task of writing her. I really like how they've written her character so far and I can't wait to see what the writers do with her in the upcoming episodes.

By the way, your reviews have been so kind! I've said it already, but I can't say it enough. Thank you!

OOOO

He was still hung over. The breakfast that he had made Wilson buy him had not set well, which shouldn't have surprised him given how many times he had tried to eat the cafeteria's food after a night of binging. He would probably never learn that lesson. Old dog. The doctor in him kept thinking, "push fluids." The way too experienced drinker thought, "throw up." That would be the easiest solution if he weren't a cripple who couldn't kneel down by a toilet bowl without excruciating pain.

Depressing. He grabbed another cup of coffee. Caffeine with plenty of sugar. That was the other option. It would have to do until he got home and could collapse.

"Did you see how everyone was staring?" He asked his friend who was resting his eyes on the lounger in House's office.

"Now you sound like Cameron. When haven't people stared at you? Nine times out of ten, you march around these halls like Attila the Hun, using your cane like a battering ram. If you're not doing that, you're making some weird pronouncement like 'No, Doctor Cuddy, I will not tell you where my ticklish spot is.' Why wouldn't they stare? You're weird." Wilson didn't open his eyes for the whole speech.

"I may be weird, but …" He stopped as Stacy walked in.

"But…?" She asked.

Wilson's eyes popped open and he sat up quickly. He looked immediately at House, who had turned to stone. He sighed. Leaving was what he wanted to do. Now. He wasn't sure that he should, though.

He stood and turned to Stacy. "Maybe you should go."

"I'm not going anywhere. At least not yet." She was still looking at House who hadn't reacted since she walked in. "I need to talk to you."

"What do you mean, 'at least not yet?'" Asked House, trying to get to the point.

"Well, it seems that Dr. Cuddy no longer needs my services now that Mark is doing better."

"A bit of backhanded diplomacy. I like it." He turned to Wilson. "We need to get this over with."

Wilson looked at him for a second and then nodded. He turned towards Stacy and started to speak. He shook his head, though, and walked out.

"Let's make this quick. I don't want the hospital to think I'm weird and desperate." He moved to the front of his desk. Body language. Unafraid. Not hiding behind the desk. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. Also not open to negotiations.

Stacy stepped back one. Nervous. Intimidated. "I'm leaving."

"You already said that." He leaned against the desk and crossed his feet at the ankles.

"I don't know what else to say." Her tone was pleading, asking him for guidance.

"Then why did you come in?" He wasn't going to be helping her.

She took a deep breath to collect herself and stepped forward again. "I wanted to apologize."

He didn't react.

She continued, hoping that his silence meant that he would listen to her. "I don't know what I thought I was doing."

Still nothing from him.

He stared at her. He didn't point his eyes over her shoulder or look at his feet. He just stared.

"I know you're mad at me." She trailed off.

He waited. He fought the urge to sting her with one of his trademark insensitivities, one that would show her that he hadn't been affected as much as she thought. What he ended up doing hurt her worse than any amount of snark could. He was open and to the point.

"When you left, it nearly killed me. Literally. As clichéd and stupid as that might sound, it's the God's truth." House was in the same position, only moving his mouth.

"Someway or another, I managed to keep from killing myself. I worked and I drank and I took pills. Still do actually."

She couldn't say anything.

"On top of that, I try my hardest to terrify the people around me. By some miracle, no one has tried to finish the job for me. In my more human moments I realize that I'm pretty lucky in some ways."

"Your coming back here and telling me that I am 'the one' threw me. It still does. Screwing a doctor who is not your husband throws me too."

She flinched at his choice of words. "Greg…"

He held up his hand. "No. Let me finish. You said you didn't know what you were thinking? Well, I don't either. How many men do you need, Stacy? One to be 'the one' but not 'the one,' one who gets to pretend to be 'the one,' and one who probably never had a chance in hell of being two or three?"

He was getting more fired up as he spoke. Maybe he was incapable at this point of having a rational argument, but it was the House that Stacy was most used to.

"I told you I don't know what I was thinking." She spat. "I love my husband."

"Interesting time to say that. Why did you? Are you trying to convince yourself?" he had moved and was standing away from the desk, gesturing with the hand that wasn't holding a cane.

She had a mutinous look on her face. She was furious that she couldn't think of what to say to shut him up and get out of there. She was furious that she had put herself in this position in the first place.

"I know what I did was wrong."

"So does the rest of the hospital."

She flinched.

"Did you think about that?" He moved closer to her. "Did you think about the fact that there were other people involved here? That other people would be embarrassed?"

"You don't get embarrassed."

"I'm not talking about myself." He cringed inwardly but showed no sign that he wished he hadn't thrown that one out there.

"Oh. Are you worried about Cameron?" She heard herself sound bitchier than she had the right to be, but she plowed ahead on a self-destructive path that she knew would end badly. "Did I shock her?"

He ignored her question and decided to try to push this in his own direction. "Why Crawford?"

"Why not?" She sassed, then sensed immediately that she may have pushed too far. "I don't know. He was there."

"You said you didn't cheat on your husband."

"I didn't until now. And I never cheated on you either." She shrugged in defeat. They had both calmed a little. "This is the first time I've ever done anything like this." She looked up at him. "Do you believe me?"

"That doesn't matter."

"It does to me."

"I don't care."

"Yes, you do," She turned toward the door. "but my cases have already been delegated by Lisa, Mark is meeting with his therapists for the last time right now, and I'll be gone in a couple of hours." She paused. "Do you know where Cameron is?"

"Leave her alone." He tensed up again.

"I need to apologize to her."

"No, you don't." His voice became more insistent.

"Yes, I do. I don't know why, or if it will do any good, but I need to try." She shrugged. "If I don't I won't ever feel right again."

"Poor you. I know a couple of good therapists. Talk to them instead. Leave her alone." He glared at her from across the room.

She looked at him sadly. His blue eyes were tired and a bit bloodshot. He hadn't done much more with himself but shower this morning, she thought. She remembered the signs. Too much booze, too little sleep.

She smiled weakly at him and walked away.

OOOO

Allison was hiding. She would freely admit that to anyone who dared ask. No one was asking at the moment, though, because they were just the slightest bit afraid of her. When Allison and the boys had left their mysteriously no longer ill patient, Foreman had asked her how she was doing. She had punched him in the arm. Chase had tried to tease her into a better mood. She had told him to get a haircut.

After that, she had picked up the caddy of blood and urine samples they had just taken from their patient and had told them that she would be in the lab if anyone wanted her. She heard Chase whisper, "I don't think anyone will," as she stalked away.

Making her way to the lab, she had felt slightly contrite for her treatment of the two men, but she forgot that contrition when she walked by a group of doctors who became very silent as she passed. She turned to them and said, "Is it time for Group Cliché Therapy?"

One of them had muttered something about her needing a cane. "Don't tempt me" had been her response.

Basically, Allison Cameron was leaving a wake of confused and annoyed people behind her as she moved through the halls. For some reason, it didn't bother her. In fact, she rather enjoyed the looks of shock. Maybe that was why House did it so often.

Of course she knew that once she had enjoyed a dozen hours of uninterrupted, angst-free sleep along with at least two weeks of putting this behind her, she would feel guilty for her behavior. She would realize that the silence from the rest of the staff was not malicious and that her two cohorts were only trying to help.

At the moment though, the only thing she felt bad about was that the stupid architects had designed the place with way too many glass walls. Anyone could see her in there, and she didn't want to be seen. Or found.

She adjusted the focus on the scope and thought about who might actually come in there.

House was the only one who wouldn't look at her like she was about to thrash him with her stethoscope. He was also the only one brave or stupid enough to walk in when she was hiding in the lab. The place had become something of a joke in her mind when it came to him. They had had more intense and personal conversations in here than anywhere else – or at least it felt like it. She really didn't want to see him right now, though, and she hoped that he would just stay away. She didn't think he would take kindly to being punched.

She prepared another slide for examination. She supposed she would have to talk to him sometime, though. She needed to find out why he was being so docile around her. Not that she didn't appreciate not having to spar with him at every turn, but she was worried that he was letting himself be too upset about Stacy.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Oh, hell. So there was one more person she really didn't want to see, and she wasn't quite sure how to handle it, which made her more edgy. She certainly didn't want to soothe this visitor. She kept her eyes on the slide and let out what she hoped was an impatient rather than nervous sounding sigh. "Let me finish with this."

Allison took her time inspecting the sample and taking notes that were a little more meticulous than they needed to be. She closed the patient's file and tapped the papers into place, then she recapped her pen and hooked it to the file folder. The whole time she was trying to control her stomach and calm herself. She sighed again and turned on her chair.

"What?"

"I wanted to …" Stacy paused. "I'm going to be leaving the hospital."

"Good luck." Allison drummed her fingers on the folder. She was not, not going to start babbling no matter what her tired brain was trying to get her to do. She also was not going to break eye contact with the lawyer. She was not going to be the same Cameron who had asked Stacy quietly and shyly what House had been like before the infarction.

"Greg doesn't want me to talk to you."

"Then why are you here?"

"I'm not sure. Obviously, you don't want to talk to me, but I did want to let you know that I was leaving." Stacy was seeing now that this had not been a good idea. As a lawyer, she knew better than to enter a confrontation unprepared. This had definitely been a mistake.

"Oh. Hmmm. Well, thanks for the heads up." It took everything Allison had to maintain eye contact, but she did it. Despite her nerves, there was a question screaming in her brain, and if Stacy didn't get out of the lab in two seconds, Allison was afraid she would let it fly.

"I'm sorry I hurt you."

Allison said nothing.

"I think you're a good person. You're good at what you do, too." Stacy was babbling.

"Well, that certainly makes me feel better."

Stacy grimaced. "I can see he's influenced you more than I thought." She turned to leave.

Okay, said her brain. That was it. She had brought him up. Time to pull the gloves off. The question came flying out of Allison's mouth.

"Did you do this to him, too?"

Stacy stopped. She didn't turn around all the way to face Cameron. "No. I've never done anything like this before."

"Well, that's reassuring."

"You asked. I'm just telling you." She paused as if waiting for a response. When none came, she went on out into the hallway.

Allison sat perfectly still for a couple of minutes as her tired brain digested what had just happened. For the past twenty-four hours or so, it hadn't seemed to matter to her nervous stomach or her shaking hands what Stacy had done to her, Allison had always been intimidated by the older woman. She had always made Allison feel like a sixteen year old with braces and bad hair.

At the moment, though, Allison felt just a little better than she had since yesterday.

Well.

Well, well, well.

Maybe, just maybe, little Allison Cameron had handled that pretty well.