Thank you all for your reviews! I'm very glad to see Steve welcomed back with open arms.

Chapter 2

The fourth of July arrived with the start of a heat wave which settled around Princeton by noontime. The air felt thick and heavy, but that didn't stop people from running around, letting out enthusiastic shouts, and shooting off illegal bottle-rockets in their back yards. The smell of burning charcoal from classic kettle barbeques, mixed with the powder from the fireworks, and turned into a scent that was unique to Independence Day.

Cameron, in a light sundress and strappy sandals, breathed deeply of that scent as she walked from her car to the steps that led to House's front door. She had plastic bags looped over each arm, and they rustled as she climbed the steps and reached for the doorbell. She waited a moment, and would have knocked, but she didn't get the chance.

The door was yanked open, as if House had been expecting someone, but then he just stared at her and didn't move. Obviously she wasn't the someone he'd been expecting. His eyebrows scrunched together and his mouth twisted to one side.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

Cameron tried not to feel hurt by the question or his tone of voice.

"I thought I'd stop by for a visit. I figured if I waited for you to invite me, I'd be waiting forever."

He huffed out a breath, evidence that she was probably correct in her assumption.

"What's in the bags?"

"Food," she replied. "You can find out the specifics when you let me in."

His reluctance was obvious, but he stepped back and held the door open for her. Cameron noticed that he wasn't using his cane, but he was leaning on the doorknob, and she glanced around the room to give him a chance to move to his next prop without displaying his still-prominent limp.

"I see you fired the housekeeper," she joked, but her voice was flat rather than light and good-humored.

There were magazines and newspapers scattered around, used glasses on the coffee table, a dirty dish on one of the end tables, and a pizza box spread open on the closed lid of the grand piano. House had never been neat, but this was messy even for him, and Cameron's mouth turned down at the corners. She felt upset at herself for not coming earlier, mad at him for shutting her out, and sad about the whole situation.

"So, are you gonna tell me what's in the bags now?"

She was drawn from her introspection by House's impatient tone, and she held out the bags to him. He eagerly snatched them away and started cataloging the contents.

"Hamburger, hotdogs, rolls, tomato, onion, lettuce, sparklers." He paused in his recitation and looked up with interest in his formerly dull eyes. "Sparklers?"

Cameron pinned him with her gaze. "Those are for Steve," she replied. "After all, it's his first Fourth of July."

House nodded. "Leave it to you to think of everything."

"Not everything," she said, and he looked at her questioningly, but she wasn't prepared to continue.

"Well, thanks for the food, but Wilson's coming over, so…"

"Don't worry. I'll leave when he gets here," she said, thinking that Wilson would probably be a no-show since he was the one who had convinced her to visit.

House shrugged as if he didn't care, and handed the bags back to Cameron.

"You can put the stuff away," he said, motioning towards the kitchen, and she knew it was because he didn't want to walk that far.

When she returned, he was sitting on the sofa, with his legs stretched along the length of it. It was another not-very-subtle hint, and it pushed Cameron just that slight bit over the edge. She stood beside the sofa with one hand on her hip, staring down at him, daring him to fight her.

"So this is it? You're not even going to talk to me?"

"Isn't that what we've been doing? I could have sworn I heard words coming from both of our mouths, just a minute ago."

Cameron opened her mouth to shout at him, but snapped it closed and just stared at him. She didn't want to turn this into a screaming match. That wasn't why she'd come here. With a deep sigh, she let her hand fall to her side, and walked away from the sofa. Steve's cage was still in its spot beside the piano, and she went to it and dropped the bag which held the sparklers and a few other holiday items. Five minutes later and Steve's cage had red, white and blue crepe paper wrapped around the base, and a small flag tied to one corner.

"Very patriotic," House said from his vantage point across the room.

Steve sniffed at the flag pole with interest and then sniffed at Cameron's fingers when she stuck them through the bars.

"Have you missed me?" she asked as she opened the cage.

"Probably," came the voice behind her, and it wasn't as snide as she'd expected. "You always spoil him."

She heard more softness than snark and wondered if the words applied as much to Steve's owner as to Steve himself.

"I've missed you too," she said, squinting her eyes as she held Steve up to her face and let his whiskers tickle her nose and cheeks. Her remark definitely applied to both man and rat.

"Steve's a real ladies man… has you wrapped around his bald little tail."

"He's a little scruffy, but cute, and an excellent listener."

"Yeah, but I don't hear him telling you his deep, dark secrets."

"Like father, like son," Cameron replied, repeating a line she'd used once before.

House had no reply, and Cameron positioned Steve on her shoulder and walked back towards the sofa. She pushed away some magazines and sat down on the coffee table while gathering herself together for the fight she fully expected. He'd picked up a newspaper and was holding it in front of his face, but she waited until he gave up and looked at her. His eyes held a warning, but deeper still, she could see fear. It wasn't something she'd seen there before. She blinked a few times, but kept her gaze steady.

"I've missed you," she told him.

It wasn't what he was expecting, and it threw him off-balance. There were only two acceptable replies. Either he admitted that he'd missed her too, or he lied and said that he hadn't. He went with an unacceptable reply and said nothing.

Cameron took a breath and her lips tightened into a grim line with tiny creases at the corners of her mouth.

"I thought we had a good thing going between us. Was that just an act on your part?" She wouldn't believe him even if he said that it was.

"No."

His honesty was a relief.

"Then what happened?"

"I'm pretty sure you were there."

"You were shot. Yes, I was there. I was there every minute. Every hour. I was there, and I kept up our cover, in between praying to a God I don't even believe in, and I never left. But you did. You shut me out and closed me off, and made me feel like the world's biggest fool for believing your apologies and letting myself be hurt by you, and still loving you anyway because I just don't know how to stop."

Cameron's words had come out in a rush and they surprised both of them. She paused and took a breath, slim shoulders twitching beneath the straps of her dress, nervous fingers pushing loose strands of hair behind her ear and steadying Steve

"So that's what I remember. What about you?" she asked, and the look in her eyes as they stared at him, said that she wasn't going to accept anything but the truth.

"You don't give up easy."

"No. I don't," she said.

"I'm still a fucking cripple," he spat out, abruptly.

Cameron was unsettled by his vehemence, but she didn't show it.

"How is that different from before the shooting? You say you're still a cripple. So what? When did that ever bother me? When did I ever say I expected that to change?"

"I had one shot at a reprieve and it didn't work," House said, sounding tired.

"It must have worked a little. You didn't use your cane to answer the door. Wilson says you're not taking as many pills."

"Right. I can go ten whole steps now, instead of five."

"You still haven't told me why that matters. It doesn't matter to me."

His eyes snapped alive and bored through her. "It matters to me."

"You'd throw away a chance at some kind of happiness because of your damn leg?"

He scoffed at her. "I did it once already. What's one more time?"

"No," she said, and he could practically hear her jaw clenching. "You are not doing this. I'm a part of this relationship too… however fucked up it may be… and I'm not letting you get out of it that easily."

The sneer he threw at her was weaker than usual, as if he only half meant it. "Well, what do you intend to do about it?" he asked, and Cameron thought that he sounded like he really wanted an answer. Wanted her to try. Wanted to know where the hell they went from there.

"First, I am going to put Steve back in his cage," she answered. "Then, you are going to get up and start up the grill, and don't tell me you don't have one, because I saw it on the corner of the deck. Then, we are going to have hamburgers and hotdogs and light sparklers."

"What happens after that?" House asked, sounding snarky, but slightly more playful than bitter.

"We'll figure it out when we get to it, but it probably involves taking your bike down to the river for the fireworks display."

"And what if I told you to get the hell out?"

"You'd have to throw me out," she replied stubbornly, "because this time, I'm not giving up that easy."

She wasn't sure what effect, if any, that her intractable stance would have on the equally obstinate House, but she'd held her ground, and she was proud of herself. Her legs weren't even shaking, like they had back in the beginning of her fellowship whenever she'd stood up for herself. She walked the length of the sofa and turned towards Steve's cage, but a strong hand, looped around her wrist, stopped her progress. It was gone almost as soon as it grabbed her.

"Steve's still too young for fireworks," House said, and his expression had softened into one she recognized again. "Unless you brought teeny tiny earplugs for him."

"No," she replied. "The fireworks will have to be 'grown-up time'."

"I think we can live with that."

"Good. Now go start the grill," she said, and was surprised when he actually grabbed his cane from beneath the sofa and lurched to his feet.