I neither own nor have any right to any of this.

Sorry about the typing on this one, I had to borrow someone's laptop. Its ancient, slow, and some of the keys stick. Please bare with me, and forgive me for typos and missing words. Plus there is some wording, which I vacillated on, but I think it worked. Hopefully the sensors will not come after me and shut me off. Only two/three words…won't happen again!

Home Coming

The short drive from the hospital to House's brownstone had been an excruciatingly long one in Cameron's opinion. House had helped her into her car as he had ridden his motorcycle to work that day. Although he had gently helped her into the passenger seat and spent several moments carefully arranging the seat belt so it did not lay in its usual characteristic position near her throat, (one of the disadvantages of being on the short side,) there was something forced about his actions. Once settled into the car, House had spent a few moments grumbling with the driver seat, adjusting its length to fit his long body.

Cameron had let her head loll against the headrest, shutting her eyes. The stitches burned, her throat was raw and swollen to the point her voice came out as a hoarse, gravely whisper, and her broken hand throbbed almost as badly as her head. Every speed bump and pothole in the roadway sent stabs of pain through her aching body. Cameron wondered if House was making a point the veer and maneuver the car so they would bounce over every one of them. The extent of their limited conversation on the short trip had consisted of, 'we need things from the market; will you be alright for a moment? What flavor of ice-cream do you want?'

Arriving home had not been much better. House had helped Cameron out of the car and into the brownstone. Once they crossed the threshold, he released his steadying hold, leaving her on her own to make her way to the bedroom while he retrieved the items he had purchased from the store. Now groping her way along the hallway, Cameron mentally swore to herself. She could not walk in a straight line, but rather kept veering to her left, forcing her to use furniture and the walls for support. Leaning against the bedroom door frame for support, she tried to focus on the bed, judging the distance she needed to cover.

The smell of sweat and sex still hung in the air from earlier that morning, making vile rise into her already raw throat. Cameron had asked House that morning to change the sheets after she had rushed hurriedly from his arms to dress for work, mildly scolding him for making her late. He was as versatile as a lover as he was in his demeanor. Whether they were engaged in rough, furious sex, groping for each other's bodies, or gentle lovemaking, House was always extremely attentive to her and her needs. This had surprised Cameron repeatedly; she had expected him to be selfish in bed. 'If House would only change the sheets,' she thought, swallowing down her nausea and turning to grope her way back to the living room.

Collapsing on the couch, Cameron could hear the slamming of cabinet doors and the clinking of cutlery.

'I thought you were going to lie down?' House was standing in the kitchen doorway with a bowl of ice-cream in his hand.

Cameron tried to turn her head to look at him, but the movement pulled at her stitches, sending a searing sensation through her body. 'Sheets, smell' she tried to croak, wishing she hadn't. She could feel her brain slouching around in her skull from the concussion.

House glanced towards the bedroom, but did not speak. Crossing to the sofa, he set the ice-cream on the coffee table in front of Cameron before disappearing in to the bedroom. Cameron, ignoring the ice-cream, leaned back into the sofa and closed her eyes, letting her mind wonder. 'He's acting strangely', she though as she drifted into semi-consciousness.

'Cameron?'

'Cameron?' There was a long pause. 'Allison wake up!'

Cameron opened her eyes and stared unseeingly into a nothing. Blinking for a moment, House's bright blue eyes came into view. Concern was etched into his face.

'I've been trying to wake you up. I was on the verge of calling an ambulance.'

Cameron tried to smile at him, but the act pulled at the muscles and the cut in her neck. Forgetting her hand was broken, she lifted it to rub throat, wincing in pain. Cameron watched as House, letting out a huff of frustration, rose from the couch and limped across the room.

'What?' she asked, her voice a mere whisper.

'Nothing' he snarked back at her.

'Liar'

'Everything then.'

'Why?' Even one and two syllable words hurt. Damn that idiot patient, thought Cameron, damn him.

'Why, you ask?' House let out a little laugh filled with rage. 'Why?' He voice rose in anger and agitation. He was practically snarling his words at her.

'Let's see. You being all miss goody, friendly, oooh I can solve anything by helping you. I am sssooo caring and sssooo understanding and sssoooo nice and ssssoooooo wanting to help, could have gotten you killed this morning. YOU KNOW BETTER THAN THAT ALLISON. Now look at you! You haven't even taken your coat off. WHY? Because you can't unbutton it! WHY? You HAD to break your hand on some asshole's face! WHY? Because you put yourself in a bad situation. WHY! BECAUSE YOU WERE TRYING TO BE NICE AND WARM AND TRUSTING!'

House was aware he was screaming at her. Sarcasm dripping off his words. He was trying to hurt her. He wanted to hurt her. 'Maybe,' he told himself, 'maybe if I scream loud enough, she will finally understand that being nice and trusting causes pain.'

'NOW WHAT ALLISON. YOU TELL ME, DOC'TOR CAM'ER'ON, HAVE YOU FINALLY LEARNED YOUR LESSON?'

House looked at the battered woman sitting on his sofa, his breath coming heavy from the adrenaline rushing through his body. Their eyes met and he mentally kicked himself for his cruelty. 'Shit, damn FUCK Gregory, you are the biggest fool and asshole to draw breath.'

It was Cameron who looked away first. There was more pain in her eyes from his tirade than there ever could have been from the physical harm the Idiot Patient had inflicted on her. The physical would heal and heal rapidly; the emotional shredding of her soul was going to linger.

With a great effort, and with an elegance that took House's breath away, Cameron rose from the sofa. She slowly and carefully crossed the room to where he was standing, large tears were running down her face. Standing directly in front of him, ignoring the ripping of the stitches along her throat and the screaming of the injured tissue, Cameron looked up into his face. She placed her small broken hand on his chest, which he immediately covered with his own. (He could feel the agony he had caused her and hated himself for it.) Staring directly into his eyes, Cameron made certain she had his complete attention. The world had stopped as far either one of them were concerned. With a great effort, Cameron forced herself to speak as loudly and clearly as her injuries would allow her.

'Fuck you!'

Pulling her hand away from his grasp, Cameron turned and moved towards the entrance to House's apartment, trying to escape him. She took four faltering steps away from him, before the nausea and the blackness overtook her. Cameron never felt the edge of the coffee table as she fell, knocking the bowl of melted ice-cream into the air. She didn't hear House scream her name as he moved to try to catch her and break her fall. Cameron welcomed the blackness as it swept over her, pushing the physical pain away. Pushing the mental pain away. Pushing House away.

PLEASE, please, please tell me what you think! PLEASE… Ineed to know! PLEASE! Have I gone too far with this?