Foreman and Chase met at the desk, flipping through charts.

"Lunch?" Chase asked.

"Mmmmm…" Foreman mumbled. He squinted at a page. "Sure, in a few."

"Where's Cameron?" Chase said, scanning the clinic.

"She got a page from Cuddy saying that she had a few hours off." Foreman said with a shrug. "I told her to meet me here in 30 minutes. She said she was going to her car to get something."

Chase caught sight of two women in the corner of the clinic. "That the girl?"

Foreman glanced over at her. "Yeah. She's having a prenatal appointment. Guess she's keeping the baby."

Chase studied her. "Damn. It's a shame she's retarded."

Foreman looked at Chase with disgust. "At times you can be downright crude. You know that?"

"What? What did I say? She's pretty."

"That's just fucked up." He glanced at his watch. "Ok I have a common cold. I'll take care of that now. You want to meet Cam and head on to the cafeteria?"

Chase shrugged. "I'll go see if she's at her car. My next patient isn't for a while. Maybe we should go out tonight and get a few drinks. You know, so Cam can get her mind off of it."

Foreman raised a skeptical eyebrow. "So she can get her mind on something else, you mean."

Chase flushed slightly. "I didn't say I was going to get her drunk. Besides, when is the last time we went to grab a beer together?"

Foreman sighed. "True enough. Why not? Run it by her. And be nice. She's had a really tough day."

Chase sniffed. "I'm always nice."

"Right. Just go. See you in a few."

Chase walked into the parking garage with slow, ambling steps. Cameron always parked her car in the same spot. As he neared the car, he could see her inside. At first glance, it looked like she was screaming. His heart quickened, and he started to walk faster. As he drew closer, he realized she wasn't screaming, she was singing.

Cameron's eyes were closed, and her stereo was going full blast in the car. Linkin Park wasn't what she usually listened to, but it was good music when she was angry. She screamed along with the lyrics as it blasted over her speakers.

"I'm tired of being what you want me to be! Feeling so faithless lost under the surface. Don't know what you're expecting of me. Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes." Her fist pounded the steering wheel. "I've become so numb…" she wailed.

Chase stared at her. He identified the song, muffled as it was. But what surprised him most was the fact that she was so beautiful in her rage. Cameron was always considered lovely, but something about the wanton way she was releasing all of her pent-up anger transformed something pretty into something spectacular.

He watched her in silence for a few minutes, and as the song drew to the end, he realized that he didn't want to be caught gawking at her. So he quickly turned and hurried towards the door.

"Robert!" Cameron called from behind him. She sounded out of breath.

"Hey, I was just stretching my legs," Chase said lamely. "Foreman wants to know if you want to go to lunch with us."

She cocked her head sideways. "I already said yes. Is he waiting for us?" Her face was flushed, and she was breathing heavily. Little tendrils of hair had found their way out of the ponytail she wore.

"He said we should meet him in the cafeteria." Chase said.

"Oh, sure. Let's head down then." Cameron said.

"You OK?" Chase said, studying her.

She flushed slightly. "I'm fine. I was getting, my lip gloss."

"Right. You look like you could use some." Dammit, he thought. That was the wrong thing to say.

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks, you sure know how to make a girl feel pretty."

"Well I didn't mean it that way…" Chase stammered. "I just. Oh, nevermind." He turned and started to walk to the hospital entrance.

She smiled. "I know. Thank you for asking how I was."

Chase's ears burned, and he offered no reply.

The arrived in the cafeteria and stood at the end of the line. Foreman appeared, and they waved him over.

"What's on the menu today?" He said, scanning the food.

"Stroganoff," Cameron said.

Chase and Foreman groaned simultaneously.

"I'm getting a chicken Caesar myself." Cameron said.

"I'll get anything but the stroganoff. You know what they put in their right?" Chase said.

Foreman held up a finger. "Don't tell me. I don't want to know."

They seated themselves at a table. "So," Chase said casually. "Do either of you have any plans for tonight?"

Foreman rolled his eyes. Cameron didn't notice.

"Let's see…" she said. "Laundry. Paint my toenails. A pilates video that I got off ebay and have been putting off."

"Sounds exciting," Foreman said. He turned to Chase. "Why? Did you have any plans?"

Chase glared at Foreman, who was grinning. "Well, I was thinking we could all go out and grab a few beers."

Cameron poked at her salad listlessly. "I guess. Sure, why not? Who's driving?"

Foreman looked over at her in surprise. "We could split a cab there and then home," he said. "That way we can all drink."

Chase smiled. "Sounds great," he said.

Cameron nodded. "I could use a few drinks."

Wilson observed the three doctors from the other side of the cafeteria. House was already seated at the table, picking at his Reuben, and Wilson needed more napkins. Cameron seemed a little more somber than usual, but other than that she appeared to be fine.

He grabbed the napkins and sat at the table. House pulled the top piece of bread off of his sandwich. "Dammit!" He shouted. "I asked for no pickles. Who the hell puts pickles on a Reuben?"

Wilson sighed. "Maybe if you didn't insult the cafeteria staff every time you ate here they wouldn't do it. They probably spit in your food too."

House glared at him. "They probably spit in yours. Guilt by association."

Wilson let his fork fall to the table. "You don't think…" he said slowly.

House sighed. "No. Eat your… whatever the hell that is."

"Stroganoff." Wilson said.

"Jesus. Do you know what is in that?" House said, repulsed.

Wilson closed his eyes in exasperation. "Yes. Leftover meatloaf. From last week. You tell me that every time I order it." He took a bite. "It's better than the tuna surprise."

"What's the surprise?" House asked, taking a tentative bite of his sandwich.

"It's not really tuna…" Wilson said with a grin.

House grinned. "This bread is stale." He sighed.

Wilson glanced over at the table where Foreman, Chase and Cameron were seated. Cameron was looking at House. She caught Wilson watching her and blushed. Wilson smiled and then turned to House.

House was playing with his straw. He looked up at Wilson. "What?"

"Nothing."

"You going to eat or you going to stare at me?"

Wilson picked up another forkful and took a bite. He was still looking at House.

"WHAT?" House said. "Did I get dressing on my tie?"

"You aren't wearing a tie," Wilson said.

"Very good Watson, there is hope for you yet." House studied Wilson for a second, and then turned around. He caught sight of his team at the other table. "Ah… is that it?"

Wilson shrugged. "She's been looking over at you for a while now."

"Yes well, can you blame her? I mean I am totally irresistible. Better than Brad Pitt. Look out Angelina." He opened his bag of potato chips and ate one.

"House," Wilson sighed.

He shrugged. "What?" He ate another potato chip.

"So. Have you seen her yet?" Wilson asked.

"Cameron? Several times, cute girl, short. Looks good in lilac"

"Not Cameron."

"Cuddy? Yes. She's wearing the pink blouse today. If you lean over just right…"

"Stacy," Wilson said with a tinge of impatience.

"Where?" House said with mock surprise.

"Have you seen Stacy since she started working here?" Wilson said.

"No." House said softly.

"Are you avoiding her?"

House ate a few more potato chips.

"House." Wilson cajoled.

He looked up. "I'm not avoiding her. I'm not looking for her either."

Wilson nodded with satisfaction. "Good."

House raised his eyebrows. "Good?" He asked.

"Well… it's just. There's a lot still there you know." Wilson said.

"No, I don't know. What are you referring to Dr. Wilson?"

Wilson sighed. "Maybe it would be best if you avoided her altogether."

"Have you been talking to her?" House said.

Wilson shrugged. "We said hello this morning."

"And…" House said. He took another half-hearted bite of his sandwich.

"And nothing. She said hello. I said hello." Wilson picked a suspicious-looking grey piece of meatlike substance out of the pasta and slid it to the edge of the plate.

House stared at him, blue eyes piercing. "You're not telling me something."

Wilson avoided his gaze.

"Wilson…" House said threateningly.

"We talked about Mark," Wilson said finally.

"Ah," House rolled his eyes. "How is Mr. Guidance Councilor doing?"

"Good, good," Wilson said evasively. "He wants to go home."

"That can be arranged," House muttered. He cracked his knuckles. "What else?"

"Nothing," Wilson said quickly.

House leaned back in his seat and studied Wilson's face. Wilson avoided House's gaze and pretended to be absorbed in dissecting his entrée. "Jimmy," House said softly.

Wilson looked up, startled. "Huh?" He sputtered. First names always meant business with House.

"Cut the bullshit. What are you hiding? I already know that I'm The One. What could be worse?"

"She's married Greg," Wilson said.

"Believe me, I remember."

"Yeah well," Wilson said, pushing away his tray, "sometimes I think she might not."

The color slowly drained from House's face. He stared at Wilson, wide-eyed. "Any reason you didn't mention this to me in my office ten minutes ago?" House said softly.

Wilson shrugged. "You didn't seem like you wanted to talk about her at the time."

"I never want to talk about anything," House muttered. "Care to elaborate on your last statement?"

Wilson shook his head. "Just, stay away from Stacy. It's for your own good." With that, Wilson stood up and checked his watch. "I have work to do." He walked away.

House sat staring at the half-eaten food on the table. His brain was running a thousand miles an hour. Someone passed him, and he looked up Foreman, Chase and Cameron stood by his table.

"Dr. House," Cameron said softly, "We're due back at the clinic."

House stared into her eyes and was unable to reply.