Disclaimer: I still don't own them and I make no profit from this. Well ... besides the great feeling of putting House and Cameron together.

A/N: Thanks again for all of the reviews! I promise House/Cameron-y goodness in the near future.

Chapter Four

By a quarter to eight, House was more than ready to leave. C-girl hadn't had another seizure since she'd been put on the medication that he'd given her, and he needed some time away from the hospital to think about all of the possible diseases that C-girl could have. As it stood, nothing accounted for all of her symptoms. And he was counting the type one diabetes and anemia as symptoms. The girl was on too many medications for the diabetes and anemia not to be symptoms.

He plugged his i-Pod headphones into his ears and turned up the music. This was how he thought; this was how he figured it all out. He needed the music to calm him and clear his mind.

Maybe … maybe the girl had more symptoms. Hell, she had to have more symptoms. They just hadn't presented themselves yet. And he had a hunch that, once they did, they still wouldn't provide any answers.

"What causes a woman to randomly start having seizures?" he wondered out loud, his eyes traveling to the CAT scan that still sat on the reading board. There was nothing there that would explain the seizures. Nothing at all. They'd have to do more tests.

The door to his office opened and Cameron stuck her head in. "I'm ready to go if you are," she told him. "I take it you've got your bike here?"

He nodded absently and stood, turning off the lamp on his desk and slinging his knapsack over his back. "I'll follow behind you."

They walked silently to the parking garage, where Cameron went to her sensible Volkswagen Jetta and pulled to the exit, waiting for House to pull up behind her before driving off to her apartment.

She checked in the rearview mirror every so often to make sure that House was still behind her. It made her uneasy to think that he'd be coming into her apartment. It wasn't like she had a problem with him staying the night. She didn't even have a problem with him staying all week. She'd gotten used to many different kinds of roommates throughout college and med school, and it took quite a bit for her to actually want to kick someone out.

What made her uneasy was the fact that her apartment was very personal. There were pictures of her with her family, of her with Dean, of her with friends. House had no business seeing those; she didn't need him having a one-up on her when it came to mocking the hell out of her. He'd promised he wouldn't … while he needed a place to stay. And it had taken her until just a few minutes ago to figure out that she was probably free game once he didn't need her apartment any more.

Great.

She sighed and tapped on the steering wheel as she waited for a light to turn green. Things shouldn't be this complicated. She should be able to let someone stay over in the blink of an eye. And, come to think of it, if it were Wilson, Chase, or Foreman asking for a place to stay, she would. But House? House was a different story.

The light turned green and she sped off to her apartment, House in tow. She finally settled on the fact that she'd just have to thicken her skin some more. Her mother had been telling her that for years as it was; she may as well put it into practice.

They arrived at her apartment and she led the way, unlocking the door and holding it open for House. Once inside, she closed and locked it, staring nervously at the lock. Please don't let him say anything annoying or derogatory… Please…

"Nice place," he said simply.

Cameron let out the breath she seemed to have been holding and shrugged out of her coat, placing it on the coat rack next to the door. "I try to clean it every so often," she joked, trying to keep herself from letting her nerves show. After clearing her throat, she pointed to various places of the apartment, introducing them as she did. "Kitchen's that way. Bedroom's down the hallway to your left. The bathroom is across from it. The linen closet is right next to the bedroom."

Her place was small, sure. But it was home, and that was all that really mattered to her. "You can put your things in the bedroom. I'll take the couch. Just let me change the sheets before you-"

"I'm pretty sure I can do that," he told her, giving her a small smirk. "I mean … the bum leg doesn't mean I can't make a bed."

Cameron flushed and tapped her finger on the coat rack. "Well, then… Fresh sheets are in the linen closet. Just put the old ones in the laundry basket in the corner of the room and I'll put them with the rest of my laundry."

The laundry basket… Oh, God, she hadn't left anything out, had she? No … no, she hadn't. No panties or bras lying out. And she was relatively certain that she'd thrown her pants in over her underwear yesterday…

But it was too late to dwell on it as House was already getting the sheets to make the bed and soon disappeared into her bedroom. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, going into the kitchen to get herself a glass of water.

House, meanwhile, had made his way into Cameron's bedroom and set the sheets down on the bedside table, which had been kept immaculately spotless except for a single picture, which happened to be turned face-down. He frowned and picked up the picture. He'd promised not to mock; he never said he wouldn't snoop.

In the picture was Cameron. She was laughing and sitting on some man's lap, with the man's arms securely around her waist as he stuck his tongue out at the photographer. Both of them sat inside of a tire swing. Why would this be turned down…?

He shrugged and looked at the bed. It was a nice bed. Queen sized. He couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter when he saw the sheets. There were flowers on them, for Christ's sake. But then, what more could he expect of Cameron? He'd actually managed to find some bland, pastel yellow sheets in the linen closet, and made as quick work as he could of stripping and remaking the bed.

Surprisingly enough, he followed Cameron's orders and dropped the old sheets into the laundry basket in the corner of her room. Nothing incriminating in there. Though he did wonder how she managed to have pants at the top of the pile and not underwear. Maybe she didn't wear— Stop. Don't even go there, House.

He tossed a folded comforter onto the bed and dropped his bag at the foot of it before making his way back into the living room, where Cameron was sitting quietly on the couch, her feet tucked up beneath her.

"Your room is bigger than mine, and that irks me," he told her, sitting in the nearest chair.

"It's probably not," she retorted. "It's just got less clutter." She found a footstool and pushed it to him for him to put his leg up.

"Yeah … you don't seem to be a big fan of clutter." He surveyed the apartment and was almost appalled at how clutter-free it was. There was a coffee table as a centre piece for the room, which had a small stack of books on it. The books were in a neat stack, too. Next to them was a small bamboo plant.

Looking past the coffee table was a quaint entertainment centre that held a television set, a VCR/DVD player, a cable box, a stereo system, and, to his pleasant surprise, two gaming consoles. "You play?" he asked, nodding to the system.

Cameron shrugged. "Occasionally. It's mostly here for when my brother visits. He's a die-hard fan of the Resident Evil games. I'm more a fan of Mario Kart, myself. So I have a PlayStation and a Game Cube. It works for both of us."

House smirked. "Girls hate strategy games."

"I like strategy games. I hate games where I have to shoot a zombie in the face," she replied with a small laugh. "Every time Adam's over, he plays that game. And every time he plays it, I jump. Zombie games are dumb."

"Zombie games are cool," he argued.

She shrugged, a small smile in place. Good, he thought. At least she won't clench now. "Do you want anything to drink?" she asked him. "I have water, soy milk, and different kinds of juices. No alcohol."

"What are you, twelve?" he asked incredulously. "What human over the age of twenty-one doesn't keep alcohol in the house?"

"The kind that doesn't drink it often enough to keep it on hand," she retorted. "Water, soy milk, or juice?"

House made a face. "Juice, I guess."

"I have orange, cranberry, and some strawberry kind."

"I'll try the strawberry kind." He had to bite back a scathing, mocking remark and remind himself that only one of them would get him two more weeks of clinic duty. Yuck. And he REALLY wanted to make some comment about her keeping so much juice in the house. Something about her age… But he'd probably not only grab up clinic duty, but also be kicked out for that one.

Cameron handed him the juice and returned to her seat on the couch, picking up the remote and flipping on the television before plugging in her laptop, resting her feet on her coffee table, and sitting cross-legged to accommodate her computer.

"What's the point of having the TV on if you're going to be on your laptop?" House asked, watching her curiously.

"I like the background noise," she admitted. "And it helps me think when I turn on Discovery Health."

"You watch Discovery Health?"

She gave him a 'duh' look and typed in the password to her computer. "Doesn't every doctor?"

"Not every doctor has cable or satellite."

"Well, every doctor should get it then." She began to type rapidly on her computer, which drew House's attention to her again.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Talking to friends."

"…you have instant messenger services, don't you?"

"Watch what you say," she warned. "It's pretty much the only way I can keep in touch with all of my friends. It's easier than being on the phone as I can talk to more than one person at one time, and I can research while I do it."

House frowned as he studied her. "Do you ever stop working?" he asked quietly, his eyes intense as he stared her down.

She finished typing a sentence and looked up at him, her glasses making her eyes seem just a bit wider than they actually work. "I sleep sometimes," she replied, slanting her head to the side.

House smirked at her and stole the remote. "If you're playing on your computer, I'm stealing the TV."

"Fair enough," she allowed, her eyes returning to her screen. Maybe having House over wouldn't be as bad as she thought. Her phone rang and she set the computer on the coffee table to answer it.

House appeared to be thoroughly engrossed in a cartoon. But really, he was listening to her conversation. How could he not? He'd already pointed out to himself that he never promised not to snoop a bit, and he turned down the volume just a few notches to hear snippets of the conversation.

"No, Mom, I didn't… Because it isn't that important to me right now. No … no, I tried- Mother, please. Well then call Jackie about it!" Cameron yelled into the telephone. When she realized that House would be able to hear that and, eventually, ask about it, she lowered her voice again.

In the living room, House turned the TV down just a bit more.

"It's on Thursday, and I do plan on going into work." She opened the fridge and slammed it shut. "Because, Mom. It was years ago and I don't think he'd want me to sit here and dwell on it every time it comes around. Yes, I realize that he's… Mother…" She sighed and slammed a cupboard.

House cringed and sank lower in the chair he'd occupied. Note to self: Never piss of Cameron. She might break something.

"Mother, I'm going to work on Thursday. I'm leaving work at five, and then I'm going to the cemetery. I'm not taking the day off. I'm not going to stay in that night. I don't know yet if I'm going to see Jackie or not. She hasn't called about it."

From his hunched state in the living room chair, he heard something start to sizzle in the kitchen. Was Cameron cooking? He sat up straight and sniffed the air. She was cooking! He could smell vegetable oil. Grabbing up his cane, he went into the kitchen, where he saw her sautéing vegetables and chicken. To her side were two pita breads. Was she making something for him, too?

"Mom, I told you that. No memorial service, okay? No ten-year anniversary… Nothing like that." She looked at House and raised an eyebrow. "Do you need something?" she asked, and then rolled her eyes. "No, Mom, not you. My boss is staying with me."

She drizzled more vegetable oil into the pan and let out a frustrated sigh. "Because I'm sleeping with him, okay? I have hot, steamy sex with my boss every night." She grumbled and took the phone away from her ear and hung up. Embarrassed, she looked at House sideways. "So … sorry about that… Hungry?"

He blinked a few times and looked around the kitchen. "I kind of want to sample that hot and steamy sex we have every night," he deadpanned. He reached into the pan and delicately picked out a green pepper, popping it into his mouth. "Besides that … yes. I am."

Cameron shook her head and dished the mix of chicken and peppers onto the pita breads that she'd laid out. "You shouldn't have overheard that," she whispered before clearing her throat. "I'm sorry you had to hear that."

"What's on Thursday?" he asked brassily, searching the kitchen drawers for forks. Once he found them, he handed one to her.

She looked at him coldly for a moment before deflating. "The anniversary of Dean's death," she muttered as she took a bite of food. "It'll be ten years."

"Dean?"

"My husband." She poked at the food before taking it into her dining area without further explanation. She didn't want to give further explanation, really. Yes, it was still painful to remember his death. It always would be. But that didn't mean she had to or wanted to talk about it. She took a seat at her dining room table and attacked her food.

House just shrugged it off and made his way back to the living room, only to be stopped by Cameron's voice. "Don't eat in my living room. Eat in the kitchen or the dining room. I just cleaned the carpet."

He rolled his eyes and plopped his plate down on the table across from Cameron, then sat to eat. "Do you always cook when your mother calls?" he asked, sampling the fajita. It was a GOOD fajita, too. "Because if you do… I'm telling her to call you every two hours."

Cameron looked up in surprise before laughing lightly. "I … ah… No. Just when I'm upset. So I guess you should expect some decent meals for the next couple of days." She slowed down her food attack and nibbled lightly at it. "Do you shower in the morning or at night?" she asked, changing the topic completely.

He looked at her curiously and swallowed the bite he'd taken. It usually depended on how much he'd had to drink at night as to whether or not he'd wait until morning to shower. "Night," he finally answered.

"Good," she replied. "I shower in the morning after my jog."

"Aren't you usually at the hospital around nine?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah… I wake up at about five, use the treadmill, shower off, and then eat breakfast."

He opened his mouth to make a scathing remark, but closed it almost immediately. There was no reason for him to make a comment about her jogging habits. If his leg were up to it, he'd still run every morning. Stupid fucking leg…

"Anyway, I'll put out some clean towels for you when I'm done eating." She started to cut her fajita up into little pieces. "And if you want something warm for breakfast, let me know before you go to sleep tonight so I can make it tomorrow morning."

House looked at her, surprised. "You're awfully accommodating for someone who didn't want me here more than three hours ago."

Cameron shrugged. "I don't mind making something in the morning," she explained. "And if it's something I like, well, that's all the better for me."

He was quiet for a few moments before finally looking Cameron in the eyes. "His death still bothers you that much," he stated. It wasn't a question; he knew. Cameron had said that she cooked more when she was upset. If she was blatantly offering to make him breakfast, something that was decidedly un-Cameron of her, her husband's death had to really grate her.

She held his gaze for a few seconds before she couldn't anymore. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes and she refused to cry. She hadn't cried about it for years. Why start again now? Absently, she moved the food around on her plate. "Sometimes," she allowed. It was all she would allow. She set her fork down and pushed away from the table. "I'll go get those towels."

The rest of the night passed in awkward silence. Cameron got back on her computer for about an hour before shutting it down for the night. House sat in front of the television after his shower (during which he fought back several remarks about girly items), and watched it absently. Both of them were thinking about the patient, and neither of them could help it.

Before long, House said good-night to Cameron and went to her room. Once under the covers, he took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. The entire room smelled like Cameron. It was a soft, musky scent. He ran his hand over his eyes and frowned. This was going to be a long night.