Disclaimer: My financial advisor says I need to stop thinking about owning House until I get my credit cards paid off. Until that happens, I'm just playing around.

A/N: Sorry this took so long. I should be able to update more quickly after this weekend. Thanks for your patience, and thank you a million times over for the lovely reviews and suggestions. BTW, house-of-insanity, I did what you asked with the anonymous review thingy. I didn't even realize that was a possibility since I'm relatively new to this. Also, thanks to those who recommendedthis storyon YTDAW. That absolutely made my day!

OOOO

"You can't be serious!"

"Of course I'm serious, this is a load of crap and if you'd bother to put your medical degree to use you'd know that too."

"You are so completely off the mark. Look at the test results! It's obvious. You're wrong."

"I am not wrong. I'm the boss."

"Now there's a winning argument. I suppose that being the boss makes you automatically right all the time."

"No, it means that when I tell you to do an MRI, you do the MRI."

He looked at her standing there steaming. "Go!"

House was surprised the door didn't shatter when she whipped it open.

OOOO

It was Wednesday, four days after football and an entire week since the debacle that had moved the whole mess between Dr. House and Dr. Cameron into new territory. By all accounts (those being Chase and Foreman's accounts), on Monday, Cameron had been quiet, almost subdued, as if she had a lot on her mind that didn't have anything to do with diagnostic medicine. That was easily remedied when House had used the word "moronic" in reference to a diagnosis she had suggested. Subdued was the last word either of her fellow minions would have used to describe her after that.

By Wilson's observation, though, Cameron was never even close to subdued. Nervous and edgy maybe, but not subdued. She had been spending less time hiding in the lab and more time slamming things around in House's office for the past couple of days. On Tuesday, he had actually seen her snatch the giant tennis ball out of the air mid-toss and insist that House come and look at a rash that had appeared on their new patient's stomach. What was truly amazing, in Wilson's opinion, was that House had actually gone to look. Not without muttered comments, but he had still gone to look.

"So when are you going to ask her out again?" Being a voyeur could be so much fun and so darned rewarding.

"I'm not."

"Oh?"

"Nope. I 'm just going to leave things where they are. She's the employee and I'm the boss. She does what I tell her to do, and I continue to piss her off." House winced inwardly. It was funny the way things sounded good rattling around in his brain, but intensely stupid coming out of his mouth.

"So what was the point of Saturday's little exhibition?" prodded Wilson.

House sighed. He had no idea. No. Not true. He did have an idea, but it wasn't one he was comfortable with at all.

"You just sighed. And it was rather heartfelt. I'm touched."

House glared – kind of. He had left Cameron's apartment on Saturday feeling not as bad as he had before he had arrived, but that call from her mother had thrown him. He, Greg House, the older, crippled, misanthropic boss and Allison Cameron, the younger, prettier, healthier, people loving…well, it just didn't add up. He was glad that they had talked, which was saying a lot for him, but he really didn't think it should go any further than that.

Now he sat in the cafeteria, which was buzzing with families, patients, and staff at the lunch rush. He contemplated his sandwich, which didn't look appetizing even to him, and then looked back at his supposed best friend, who was sporting the look of a seasoned wise-ass.

"You're enjoying this too much." House figured that if Wilson leaned back in his chair much farther, he could send the oncologist tumbling with a well-placed jab of the cane.

"Not really, but if you want you can call it payback for all the time you've spent razzing me about my marriage."

"Marriages, you mean. Have to be honest after all," corrected House.

"You liked the first one," countered Wilson.

"Still do. You should dump the walking credit card and look her up."

"You're trying to change the subject."

"I thought I'd succeeded," House mumbled through the corned beef.

"Did you really tell her that her diagnosis was moronic?" Wilson would never cease being amazed at the things that came out of House's mouth. He wondered sometimes if House even knew what he was saying before he said it.

"Yes, I did." House was determined not to be bothered by what he had said to Cameron earlier that week. She had not been thinking; in medicine there was no room for sloppy diagnoses. "She's a member of my staff. She sounded like an idiot."

Wilson's eyebrows shot up. "If you were a normal man I'd tell you that a couple dozen of the rarest flower you can find might fix that one. You're you, so I don't know what to tell you."

"I didn't ask."

"Of course you didn't. I'm telling you anyway. It's one thing to have her on staff and treat her like anyone else, it's an entirely different thing to treat her like dirt."

"I treat Chase like dirt. I don't have to send him flowers."

"Chase isn't the one you've got the hots for."

"Oh, that's a nice picture."

"Would you stop for just one second and think? God, what is your problem? No. Don't answer that. I know what your problem is."

House looked at his friend with disdain. "Really?"

"You are a chicken, my friend."

House rolled his eyes and looked around the cafeteria, but Wilson didn't stop there.

"You know it really is a tired excuse."

"What is?"

"That you're too old, too crippled, and too mean."

"Since when did you start reading minds?"

Wilson ignored him. "She obviously doesn't care. Or at least she didn't before your stellar performance of a few months ago."

Wilson got no response because House had stopped listening when he had noticed two things. One was that Cameron was sitting by herself at a table in the middle of the room. The second was that Randy Crawford was heading straight for her.

OOOO

Allison Cameron didn't see Crawford coming. She was too busy considering the issue of vertebrae. Specifically, she was wondering whether she had grown enough of them to constitute a backbone. Her conclusion was that she hadn't, given the fact that she had just scheduled their patient for the MRI that she knew the woman didn't need.

She sat at the cafeteria table picking at a wilted salad. She watched the doctors and visitors move around. Some of the patients' family members and friends looked relaxed, eating and laughing, as if they were out to lunch at a trendy eatery rather than a hospital. She noticed the others, too – the families of patients who weren't doing well. They were not happy to be there. Some looked haggard and were picking at food. Others were just nursing coffee. A few were staring out at nothing.

Human beings fascinated Allison. She had always been curious about their motives and their actions. She had just never accepted that there were some people – like her boss and/or football buddy – who were next to impossible to figure out.

"Allison?"

She dropped her head down. Ah, a human who wasn't so hard to figure out. He ranked right there in the brainless twit category. She looked back up.

"Please go away."

Randy Crawford gave her that smile that she had thought was so charming at one time. He was unrumpled, shaven, and clear-eyed. He was good looking. Not in the way some of the Abercrombie and Fitch models were good looking. He was safer. More like a Penney's ad.

Allison narrowed her glare. The bastard was also tan.

"Seriously. Go away."

"Allison, I think…"

"I don't care what you think. I just want you to go away and leave me alone."

"Please let me…"

"Let you what?" Allison was talking through her teeth, but she was very aware of the fact that most of the staff members in the cafeteria were watching them. "Did you think that if you came to me in the middle of the cafeteria that I would cave and let you tell me how sorry you are?" She clenched her fists on the table top and then threatened, "If you don't go away, I'll really give this hospital something to talk about and I won't need a cane to do it."

To his credit, Crawford didn't flinch at the mention of the cane that had been planted a little too firmly against his chest several days before, but that's not to say that he didn't hear her perfectly. "Fine, but you need to realize, Allison, that things like this happen all the time."

"Really? Not in my world, you ass." She looked at him one more time and sneered. "Looks like Dr. House's suggestion of a vacation was a good one." She smiled prettily. "Did you find any bimbos or lawyers to hook up with while you were getting that tan?"

That time Crawford did flinch. In all likelihood, Allison realized, playing the House card every once in while might be a positive experience. At least in situations like this.

He stood up a little straighter and turned away. He then noticed all the people who were either openly curious or were shooting nasty looks his way. Apparently, Allison Cameron inspired loyalty in a lot of people. He, apparently, did not. "Good bye, Allison." And he scurried out.

Allison herself looked around and saw the eyes of dozens of people looking at her. She gave a big smile and waved at everyone. Most of the heads snapped around to their lunches. Gossip was one thing. Getting caught going after gossip was another.

Her gaze came to rest on a pair of eyes that were absolutely furious looking. Now there was one face that wasn't going to be in any clothing magazine. Definitely not safe. Scruffy, uncombed, and…oh, hell, who was she kidding? She'd buy whatever he was selling.

She laughed at herself. Cheese-y. He was walking over with Wilson in tow. One of these days, he was going to have to lose the sidekick.

Both men put their trays down at her table. Wilson said nothing, but it was clear that he was planning to be entertained.

"Enjoying this, aren't you?" Allison asked the oncologist.

"You know, he just asked me the same thing." He pointed at House. "I'm not sure, but I'm here for the ride."

House bit into his sandwich. He was watching Cameron from the corner of his eye.

"Are you afraid I'm going to have a meltdown?" She asked him.

Wilson grinned and leaned back in his chair.

"What did he want?" asked House.

"To apologize in an extremely public way." She took another bite of her now warmish salad. "Then he told me I should get used to that kind of behavior."

House looked knowingly at Wilson, who did not take kindly to the implication. "Hey, now, don't lump me in with someone like him."

House just raised his eyebrows and then took another bite of his sandwich.

"I flirt. I don't have sex on my desk at work with married women," protested Wilson.

"I counted three different qualifiers in that sentence," House pointed out.

Allison listened to the two men continued to jab at each other in the semi-good natured way they had. About a minute later, she found herself thinking that she liked the fact that House had a friend who was willing to deal with all his issues. House didn't always make that enjoyable, she was sure, but it had to be worth something to the man who had been through so much hard stuff in recent years. She let that toss around in her brain for a moment, then she swore. This was not good. This was not blackberry and ginger tea to soothe hay fever. This was caring about the man's emotional state, for God's sake. She'd been down this road and been burned. Judging from his reaction Saturday, he wouldn't be too pleased by her train of thought. She huff out an impatient sigh and picked up her tray to go.

The men stopped mid-snark and turned puzzled looks her way.

"I have to go do that MRI."

"So you caved and signed up?" House prepared himself for a nasty comment and was mildly disappointed when none came.

"Yeah. It's for one o'clock." She turned and hurried out.

"What the hell was that all about?" House wondered out loud.

"I'd really suggest that you go find out," stated Wilson.

OOOO

A full MRI generally took about forty-five minutes, not counting the time to get the patient to the machine and on the table. House figured that he had anywhere from an hour to an hour and a half before he could actually hunt down Cameron and find out what her problem was. Not that he didn't know what her problem was, but he realized that he needed to hear her say it – as insecure and ridiculous as that might seem.

He was going to wait for the MRI to be done, though, because he was confident about that at least. He hoped he was right, anyway, because if he wasn't she was going to give him hell.

When enough time had passed, he made his way to his office, assuming that Cameron would be there. When he found that she wasn't and that Foreman and Chase hadn't seen her, he covertly looked in the clinic – no sense in having Cuddy see him there when he wasn't scheduled to be. No luck there either. She wasn't one to hide on the roof and Wilson was in a consultation, so both of those places were out. House headed to the place he probably should have checked first but had avoided because if he found her there, that would be a great indication that she was not in a good mood.

Sure enough, he saw her bent over a microscope in the lab. The room was ridiculously lighted, and the darkness always made her look all the more vulnerable with her pale skin and big eyes.

He pushed his way through the door and she looked up at him. "The results from the MRI aren't back yet."

"I didn't think they would be." He paused. No beating around the bush. "Crawford showing up really threw you didn't it?"

"Oh. Are we sharing again?" She pushed away from the microscope. "No. He did exactly what I thought he'd do."

House raised his eyebrows in question.

"I knew he'd choose a completely public place to approach me. The embarrassment factor on my part would be just perfect – that's the way my karma works, after all – and he would be too scared to see me in private. He was probably going for the idea that I wouldn't kill him if I had witnesses."

"No one would have blamed you if you had."

"Maybe. I didn't have the chance, though. All it took was mentioning your name and he ran." She stayed seated on the lab stool with her hands on her knees and her heels propped up on the top rung.

"Well, I guess that's one radiologist we won't be able to call in for a consult any more."

"Another one, you mean."

"I'm nothing if not consistent." He walked over to the table that held the centrifuge that Cameron had cried over once and leaned against it. "So, if it wasn't Crawford who made you leave in such a hurry, what did?"

She avoided the question. "Do you ever notice how often we have little chats in here? Don't you think it's weird?"

"Neutral ground. Scientific, too. Less emotion."

"Really? Are you really that unemotional, Dr. House?"

"Are you trying to turn the tables on me, Dr. Cameron?"

The two very stubborn people just stared at each other for several seconds. Both wanted the other to be the first to admit to something. Neither was sure the other could handle it or wanted to hear it.

House was the one who eventually lost the staring contest. He was stubborn, but he had not been shredded by Cameron in the past, as she had been by him. Stacy may have nearly destroyed him, but at least it wasn't she who was sitting in front of him waiting.

"I was worried that Crawford had upset you," he began.

"I'm surprised you didn't come to the table when he was there." Cameron was willing to say a little, if it kept him talking.

He snorted. "Wilson stopped me. He told me you needed to handle it yourself. Maybe I should have ignored him."

"No, I'm glad you didn't." She shrugged. "I wanted to do it myself."

"Good." His eyes flitted around the room. Maybe she would go next.

Cameron watched House looking lost. It amazed her that a man who was as incredibly brilliant as he was so very inept when it came to carrying on a conversation.

He surprised her by speaking again. "So why did you leave?" He started tapping his cane on the side of the table.

She contemplated him for a moment. She could use the MRI as an excuse, but she didn't really think that he would buy it given the fact that she had been so against it in the first place. She could also tell him the truth, but she didn't think he could handle that.

"I don't trust you enough to tell you," she said bluntly.

That did not make him happy. "Isn't that nice. Here I am trying to figure out what the hell is going on, trying to be open, and you don't trust me." He stood away from the table. "You used to tell me when you had a hangnail, now you won't tell me anything."

"I told you plenty when you were at my place," she countered. She hopped off the stool and planted herself a few feet in front of him.

"That was a different issue. Unless, of course, in the past hour and a half another boyfriend I don't know about has cheated on you." He voice was starting to raise. People strolling past the lab picked up their pace.

"What is the issue then, Dr. House?" Cameron had her hands on her hips. House's voice wasn't the only one scaring people away now.

"You just said you don't trust me," he pointed out heatedly.

"Why should I? When I'm open with you, you throw it back in my face. Maybe I don't want to deal with that again."

"You talked on Saturday."

"Well, like you said, that was another issue. If your married ex-girlfriend has sex with my boyfriend, I'll be sure to discuss it with you."

"What boyfriend?" House's eyes had narrowed, and Cameron had to keep from laughing.

"There is no boyfriend." She let a small chuckle escape. "Jealous?"

"Maybe."

Okay. There was nothing funny about that.

"Well, there's no reason to be," she stammered.

He took a step towards her. "You're repeating yourself."

She inched back against a counter. His eyes were predatory and there was a small grin on his lips. "What do you want?" she asked in confusion.

He continued walking towards her and put his hands on either side of hips on the counter. "I want you to tell me why you left the cafeteria in such a rush."

She was trapped. And, damn it, every single idiotic, foolish feeling that she had ever had for the man came rushing back full force. The trickle of the past week had become a flood. She was staring into his eyes, and he was less than a foot from her. She found herself telling him exactly what had happened.

"I freaked out because I was watching you with Wilson and I thought how great it was that you had someone you could talk to. I didn't want to worry about your well-being, and that's exactly what I was doing." He didn't react, so she continued. "I don't want to be in the same place I was last spring with you. It hurt too much."

He stood still for a moment and then straightened. She sighed and mentally kicked herself for admitting all of that. Just as she was about to make a dash for it, he reached over and touched her cheek. He nodded slowly. "I guess I can understand that." He moved his fingers back and tucked an imaginary lock of hair behind her ear. He had an incredibly solemn look on his face. "We'll just have to fix that."

Allison's knees almost gave out. Simple touches like that from a man like him were almost too much to handle. She couldn't move. She just stood there looking at him, nodding stupidly.

They both jumped when a messenger came barreling through the lab doors with films in his hands. He looked at both of the doctors; the pretty one was looking rather relieved and Dr. House was looking murderous. The messenger thrust the envelope into House's hands. "These are for you – from the imaging department." And then he was gone.

House hobbled over to the light box to see what was wrong with their patient. After a couple of seconds, he felt Allison standing at his elbow. He scowled at what he saw.

"Told you so," she said. "Now who's the moron?"