Cameron stood quietly, surveying the buildings around the hospital. It was still mid morning, and the sounds of the traffic carried over to her. It wasn't often that she came up here, and when she did, it was for the same reason. She opened her purse surreptitiously and found the battered pack of cigarettes. Allison Cameron wasn't what one would consider a smoker. A pack for her usually lasted months. But on bad days, she would sneak up to her perch, and light up.

The pack still contained eighteen cigarettes. She had purchased it the night of the date with House. That night, she had driven to a convenience store, mind numb, and put down a twenty dollar bill. The clerk had smiled at her when she asked for a pack of Newport Lights. He asked if she wanted matches, and she nodded, and murmured that two books would be fine.

The clerk smiled hugely at her and said, "For you, pretty lady, anything. Take six."

She had smiled and blushed. When she got home that night she sat outside and smoked two cigarettes, her imagination alternating between House's somber visage, telling her that she wanted damaged goods, and the store clerk who had called her a pretty lady. Then she had gone into the house and thrown up. She had tried to convince herself that it was the tobacco.

She pulled a smoke out of the pack and lit it. She took a long drag, and coughed. This is stupid, she thought. This solves nothing, and all I get in return is emphysema and possibly cancer. This was followed by another thought. Good.

She was lost in thought and didn't hear the footsteps approaching her.

"Allison?"

"Jesus Christ!" She jumped. "Oh Eric. You scared me!" She smiled, and then her face blanched. She lowered the hand holding the cigarette. "I uh…"

Foreman smiled. "Relax. I won't tell on you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

Cameron smiled. "You too?"

"Yeah. Not so much anymore. Just every once in a while. Rough day?" He studied her face.

She sighed. "Bad case." As Foreman went to light a match, she reached into her purse and pulled out a small silver butane lighter. She flicked it on, the blue flame glowing.

Foreman lit his cigarette and took a drag. "Nice lighter. Very feminine."

She smiled. "Yeah, thanks."

He studied the skyline. "I heard about your case." He turned to look at her. "You OK?"

She sighed. "I think I've officially lost faith in the human race." Her words floated out on a fine mist of mentholated smoke. "I don't understand how someone could do something like that."

Foreman took a long drag. "You never will. People like that, their minds work on a different level. Trying to understand someone's motivations is useless. Analyzing people is useless."

"And yet you do it all the time," Cameron smiled.

"I do not."

"What about House?" Her voice was lighter, teasing.

Foreman scowled. "Okay, maybe House. But you're one to talk. You've taken analysis of House to a new level."

"I'm not the one that has a problem with it." Cameron said. She had hoped to avoid the subject of House. Somehow it was more depressing to her than the thought of an innocent girl being raped. Dear God, is that how deranged I've become?

"So how was he with the girl? I just can't picture him treating someone like that."

Cameron glared at Foreman. "What is it with you and Chase? House is human. He does have emotions. He was good. He's always good. He's a brilliant doctor."

Foreman laughed. "Emotions? Sure. Anger. Sarcasm…"

"Sarcasm isn't an emotion. Wait. Is it?"

"No. It's a form of humor. I think. Anyhow, I digress. He's not exactly compassionate. Look at Mark Warner."

They were now rapidly approaching dangerous territory. Cameron's heart rate increased. I may never be able to hear the name Warner again without going into tachycardia, she mused.

"He was right." Cameron said simply.

Foreman rolled his eyes. "Do you think he cares about being right because of the patient? Or do you think he wanted to be right to prove us wrong?" He snubbed out his cigarette on the ledge.

Cameron took a final drag of her cigarette and dropped it to the ground. She crushed it violently with her foot, grinding it into the gravel. She looked up at Foreman. "I think he did it because he thought he could win Stacy back."

Foreman stared at her incredulously. "Is that what you think? You think he wants her back?"

"You don't? Have you seen how he looks at her?" Cameron was stunned.

"Yeah. You've never looked at anybody that way?"

Only House. "Not really. What way?"

Foreman sighed. "When I was in high school, I had this girlfriend. We dated all through high school, and into college. I got accepted to medical school, and we broke up. I went home after I graduated, see my family, and I saw her. She was married, had a couple kids…"

"And…" Cameron was unclear as to how everything was related. "You still loved her?"

"No, that's my point. I mean yes, I loved her. But I wasn't in love with her. Huge difference." He looked into Cameron's green eyes.

"And so you felt…"

"Nostalgia. Slightly wistful at what could have been. Not love. I realized it would never have worked out. So does House. That doesn't mean he doesn't want to push buttons. That's what he does. Pissing off Mark is his payoff. If I had a chance to piss off LeShaun's husband, I would consider it." Foreman smiled. "And I'm nicer than House."

"LeShaun?" The corners of Cameron's mouth twitched up.

"Shut up. It was the nineties. Do you still have a thing for House?"

Cameron closed her eyes. "I don't know."

"Bad idea."

She ducked her head. "I know. I just… can't help it."

Foreman put his arm around her. "And that's the worst part of it all. We can't choose whom we love. Or who loves us."

"If you could choose…"

"Penelope Cruz." Foreman grinned. "Or Selma Hayek. Or a young Vanessa Williams."

"I always figured you were a Naomi Campbell type of guy," Cameron said with a grin.

Foreman laughed. "No way man. She's violent. Come on, we have to get back to work."

Cameron leaned up and kissed Foreman impulsively on the cheek. "Thanks, Eric."

"For what?"

"For everything."