Author Note:- This was a story idea continued by me with permission from the author of Pain and razors by monkeybitmytail.

Be warned, as I said in the summary this may be sensitive material. It's not often that you are able to see yourself reflected in a TV character….. Anyways…

Disclaimer:- I do not own House etc…

Rating:- In England this material would probably be a 15 rating, but I'm going to go M as suggested by a previous reviewer on the original story.

P.S:- character thoughts are in Italics

It was the only way she had found to cope. As she drew the blade across her pale skin she winced, feeling the sting as the knife broke the skin. She released the breath that she had been holding and savoured the pain coming from her leg. This is for not being perfect. She lowered the knife to her leg again and repeated the ritual that took away her pain. This is for being a coward. No wonder he doesn't want to be anywhere near you. You are worthless to him and everybody else. Remember, he said he doesn't even like you…

Allison Cameron always managed to put on an act for work, no one would ever expect this behaviour from a doctor. They always saw her as perfect, as always agreeing with her boss and wanting to be helpful. The real Cameron regarded herself with bitterness. At least they don't know the real you. They can never know. Especially him. Even her minds treacherous mention of House prompted the knife to lower once again to her leg. This is because he doesn't want you. Will never love you. Hates you. By now the tears were flowing freely down her cheeks and she was shaking. She looked out of the window from where she was sitting. Rain. Great. Suddenly movement from just outside the window caught her attention. Somebody had been watching her, and what was worse she had thought that she recognised the face.

Shocked she got up. Hoping that it was just a hallucination brought on by the pain she crossed to the window and drew the curtains.

When she finally decided to open the curtains she saw no-one except her reflection. In a movement half of relief and half of longing she rested her warm forehead against the cool surface.

House lifted his forehead from the cool surface of his corvette. He was aware of the pain radiating in his thigh but resisted the urge to take any Vicodin. Maybe he had taken enough, he was seeing things. Or maybe it was all real. The blood had seemed real enough. The knife….

Looking back at her window he could see her dark head resting on the window, and then move away head bowed, hair covering her face. This wasn't right….This wasn't….. Cameron… His hand was now resting on the handle of his car, but his hand wasn't responsive. He couldn't seem to open the damn door. Lifting his hand and flexing his fingers it was obvious that there was nothing wrong physically, it must be in his mind. House knew that there was only one thing left for him to do and he found himself walking back up the stairs towards Cameron's apartment, ignoring the stabbing pains the movements caused him.

Cameron was at her bathroom sink with a damp towel, the cutting hadn't given her the release it usually did and even though the cuts were bleeding more than usual her problems were still at the top of her mind. By the time she had cleaned the cuts and taken the time to change into a pair if sweat pants and a shirt she was feeling calmer. There was a knock at the door.

She knew who it was even before she opened the door. Damn he had been watching her. Nausea swept through her body and tears burned under her tightly closed eyelids. Maybe he'll just give up and go away she thought as she leant back against the door. No such luck.

House hammered harder. "Cameron open up. I know you're there I can hear you breathing!"

Damn. Cameron silently cursed her respiratory system for giving her away. House knocked again. "Cameron open the door!" This was a voice of anger mixed with concern; there was no trace of the usual sarcastic overtones that laced his voice every day. "Open the damn door Cameron!" a pause and then something she had never heard before "Please" This last simple word shocked Cameron back into reality. The word itself, though unusual from House's mouth, was tinged with sadness…longing almost.

The door opened slowly in House's face, and his expression of relief quickly turned to anger, and then became impossible to read.

Cameron broke the silence making sure the tone of her voice didn't betray her true feelings.

"Erm House, do you know what time it is" Maybe she sounded too happy…Better tone it down.

"Yes I do" His voice sounded old. Tired.

"Soooo, why are you here? We have to be at work in four hours. I'm tired so I'm just going to go to bed…."

She shut the door. At least she tried to shut the door, but some thing stopped it. A cane. House's cane.

"House, your cane is in the way" She couldn't bring herself to look into his eyes. She knew what she would see there. Anger. Sadness. Pity.

"Cameron. Let me come in" his voice held a slight tremor.

"I don't think that's a good idea, I'm tired, you're tired. I'll see you in the morning"

This time it was his hand against the door that prevented it from closing.

"Please Cameron." He drew a breath. "My leg really hurts" It wasn't really a lie. His leg was really hurting him. The cold weather and the steps were having a joint effect on his already temperamental muscles. Yet he still hadn't taken any of his Vicodin. He couldn't remember the last time he hadn't wanted to take a pill to get rid of the pain.

Cameron weighed up the situation. Maybe his leg is really hurting him. He should sit down for a few minutes. Have a hot drink, he's wet. Been out there for a while.

She opened the door and let him in.