House walked into his office on Monday slowly. His fucking leg was killing him. He had spent a long, sleepless night, tossing and turning. He sat down at his desk. A quick glance at the conference room showed his team going about the usual morning routine. The coffee pot seemed miles away.

He closed his eyes, and rested his head on the desk. Coffee he thought, someone please bring me a cup of fucking coffee…

Foreman glanced over and House, and then at Cameron and Chase. Chase was thumbing through the latest journal, and Cameron was straightening up the area around the coffee pot. "So," he said, "it looks like it is going to be a great week."

"Seriously," Chase said, taking a sip from his cup. "Someone looks like hell."

"Probably out partying all weekend," Foreman mumbled. "Celebrating the latest victory."

"And why not?" Cameron said bitterly. "He won didn't he? The whole package, solved the puzzle, and got the girl."

Chase and Foreman exchanged a look behind her back. Chase opened his mouth to reply, but Foreman silenced him with a glare.

"So," Foreman said pleasantly, "what is on the agenda for today? Anything good?"

Cameron shook her head. "Nothing scheduled so far. Clinic work I guess." Foreman noted that she looked almost as tired as House.

The three of them studied the figure that was still resting his head against the desk. "Ok," Chase said, "who gets to tell him we all have clinic duty?"

"Rock, paper scissors?" Foreman said quietly.

"Oh for godssake," Cameron sighed. She walked over to the coffee pot and poured a cup, adding the required sugar and cream, and stirred it angrily. Then she walked over to his desk, and set it down. Hard. Little rivers of coffee poured down the sides and onto the papers on his desk.

House glanced up. "I see my Jedi mind powers worked," he said softly.

She didn't smile. "There is nothing scheduled for today," she said dryly. "Dr. Cuddy expects us in the clinic as soon as possible. All of us."

He sighed, and took a sip of the coffee. "Great."

She turned to go back to the conference room, tight-lipped.

"Dr. Cameron," he said faintly.

She turned around, uncertain at his tone of voice. "Yes Dr. House?" Her heart was pounding, and she was almost afraid to meet his eyes.

"Thank you, for the coffee." He said simply.

She studied his face. His eyes were pained, and he looked like he hadn't slept all weekend. But there was something else there, a barely visible emotion peeking out behind the usual veneer of pain. Her eyes widened slightly as she identified it as regret.

"You're welcome Dr. House." She said demurely, breaking eye contact, and retreating into the safety of the conference room. She felt his eyes on her back.

"Is he OK?" Chase said.

Cameron shrugged. "What am I, psychic?" It came out much harsher than she intended, and a flush crept over her cheeks.

Foreman cringed. "Screw House, are you ok?"

She closed her eyes a split second, before giving what she hoped was a winning smile. "I didn't sleep well last night, and I'm cranky. Sorry I snapped at you Chase." She avoided their eyes and poured herself a cup of java, and sat down at the table to examine the paper.

Chase shrugged. "Whatever." He rolled the journal into a tube and started bouncing it on the table.

"Dude!" Foreman said, annoyed. "Clinic."

"Alright already," Chase whined. He got up from his seat with heave. "Coming Cameron?"

"In a minute," she murmured, sipping some coffee. "Let me finish this, and then I'll catch up with you."

Chase and Foreman exchanged another look, and simultaneously rolled their eyes. The gestures passed unnoticed as Cameron was feigning interest in an article in the paper on the table.

The boys walked down the hall.

"What is up with her today?" Chase said, shaking his head.

"Same thing that is always up with her man," Foreman replied. "House."

"My God it's like some sort of disease." Chase said, wrinkling his nose with distaste.

"Yeah, a venereal one," Foreman quipped, and they both dissolved into laughter on their way to the clinic.

Cameron drank her coffee slowly, pretending to be absorbed in the paper, stealing glances over a House between sips. What she failed to notice was that every time her eyes fell to the article before her on the table, blue eyes would dart over to study her figure. They continued the tenuous optical game of tag for five minutes, until she was able to finish the rest of her coffee, and she stood up resignedly.

House watched her leave. As soon as she was out of sight, he reached into his desk and brought out the familiar bottle of pills. As he swallowed two, he tried to convince himself that he wasn't waiting until she left to take his dose.

"Mondays," he murmured under his breath. With a grimace, he was on his feet, and limping towards the clinic.