Disclaimer: I know you're NEVER going to believe this, but they still aren't mine.

A/N: A huge thanks to my betas, CamFan4Ever and Jewel Tanka. And I'm still looking for at least one more beta if anyone's interested. ;) Yes, I'm a perfectionist. No, I won't apologize!
Lovies!
-KellyAnnie

Chapter Twelve

Early in the morning, House awoke with a start. He looked at the clock and sighed angrily. It was only four in the morning. He'd been asleep for less than three hours, but in that time, he'd had a dream that really didn't sit well with him. Slowly, so as not to wake Cameron, he moved the covers to get out of bed and get his Vicodin when he realized that Cameron had put his pain medication on the bedside table once more.

So he reached over and took two before getting out of bed, pulling on the pants that had been tossed on the floor, and going to sit in the living room. He wasn't going to lie in bedwith Cameron and risk the possibility of waking her up, even if he knew the chance was slim. He needed to think.

Grabbing the Gameboy out of his coat pocket, he sat in a chair and put his leg up, frowning as he considered the dream he'd had.

He was at a party. With Stacy. She'd asked him to dance with her, just like old times. He reminded her that in the old times, he still had two functioning legs. But she dragged him onto the dance floor anyway; whatever Stacy wants, Stacy gets. He swayed with her, refusing to even attempt to dance. It would hurt too much and he'd collapse. And with everyone around him, he refused to embarrass himself.

But she pushed. She pushed, and she pushed, and she pushed to get him to try and dance. So he tried. And his leg gave out and he fell. Stacy stood there, looking down at him with disappointment, and everyone around started giving him pitying looks. That's right, he thought bitterly. Look at the cripple on the floor. Don't bother to try and help.

He attempted to stand three times before finally giving up, deciding to remain on the floor in pain as everyone simply walked by him. He ought to be used to this by now. And then, someone came up behind him and put their arms under his, working with difficulty to pull him up. The person even grabbed his cane and handed it to him. He figured it was Wilson, but when he turned to the person, it was none other than Cameron.

She didn't give him the pitying look that everyone else had. She just looked at him curiously. "Wilson asked me to come tonight," she'd told him, referring to the party. "I didn't want to. But you'd never asked…"

"I didn't want to come."

"But with Stacy, you came," she pointed out quietly.

"In all fairness, you never asked me."

"I didn't want to ask you to go somewhere you didn't want to go. It wouldn't be fair."

He was quiet and tapped his cane on the floor, painfully aware that Stacy was watching the exchange. "She saved my life," he said with a careless shrug.

"Against your wishes." She kept her replies soft and non-argumentative. It was as if she was simply stating fact. Which, really, she was.

"She did what she thought was right."

"Against your wishes," she repeated.

"What would you have done?" he asked with narrowed eyes. This was Cameron; she would have done the exact same thing.

"I would have let you go," came her barely whispered reply. "I'm not selfish enough to keep you here against your will; to make you suffer for the rest of your life just so that I could have a few more years with you."

It was at that point that he'd woken up and come into the living room. He couldn't help but wonder if that was the sort of reply he'd really get from Cameron. She really wasn't as weak as he tried to make her out to be, and seeing her with Adam last night had affirmed that fact for him. She stuck to her guns. She had a heart big enough to love all of New Jersey if it had to. It made him sick and amazed at the same time.

He turned off his Gameboy and tossed it onto the table when he continued to die in the game. He couldn't concentrate; the dream bothered him that much. He didn't even usually remember his dreams. Why remember this one? Why have this one?

His thoughts were interrupted by a very sleepy-looking Cameron coming into the living room and sitting on the floor next to his chair. She'd tossed on a robe. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice husky not only from sleep, but because her throat was raw from last night.

The thought gave him a satisfied feeling. "Why would something be wrong?"

Cameron looked at the clock, then back at him. "You're wide awake at four in the morning," she stated plainly. "You're not even wide awake at eight in the morning. What's wrong?" she repeated the question.

He considered her for a few moments, remembering the dream as vividly as if it had been real. Hesitantly, and with his eyes cast to his cane instead of her face, he asked her, "What were the circumstances surrounding your husband's death?"

"The… What?" she asked, sleep still ruling her mind as she tried to wrap it around why he would ask that. "How do you mean?"

"The circumstances," he repeated. "Was the death because they couldn't fight the cancer anymore? He refused treatment? Why? Why did he die?"

"I told you…" she said, worried more about House's behavior than the questions he was asking. She could answer them almost painlessly now. "Cancer metastasized to his brain, and-"

"Yes, I know that. But what caused his death?"

Cameron was silent for a long while, looking blankly at the coffee table. "He didn't want any more chemo," she said quietly. "He was too tired. He said he just couldn't fight anymore." She paused, drawing her legs to her chest andloosely wrapping her armsaround them. "I couldn't blame him."

"You didn't want him to continue the treatment?" House asked with a frown.

"Of course I wanted him to continue treatment," she said with a small laugh. "But it was his decision to make, and he wascompletely sanewhen he made it. I wasn't going to go against his wishes. It was his body and his life and his pain. He had to live with it; I didn't."

House was quiet, shocked. His dream … it had been right. He looked at her in astonishment and placed a hand on top of her head to get her attention. She looked up at him and gave him a small smile. He realized that she wasn't going to question why he asked about her husband's death, and his respect for her grew immensely.

"Come here," he told her softly, holding out his hand to her. She took his hand and he led her to sit in his lap, placing most of her weight on his left leg and letting her legs dangle off of the right side of the chair. He held her close, placing his forehead to hers and capturing her lips in a soft kiss. She then rested her head on his shoulder and dozed off once more.

"No one should be as perfect as you are," he whispered.

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The next time Cameron awoke, it was due to a very stiff back. She glanced at the clock and saw that she'd been asleep on House's lap for the past five hours. His left leg must be asleep. She wondered if he'd noticeher gettingup. But she could ignore her bladder no longer and decided to take the risk of waking him as she slowly disentangled herself from his arms and went into the bathroom.

She had wanted to ask him about his question early this morning, but had refrained from doing so. It wasn't that she didn't want to know … but something told her that asking wouldn't be a good idea and that she wouldn't exactly get a real answer even if she'd bothered to ask.

Coming out of the bathroom, she considered putting actual clothing on, but quickly changed her mind. Why bother? She didn't have to go into work today. It was Saturday, thank God. She could lounge around in her robe for a few more hours at least.

When she went back into the living room, she was met by House's glare. "You moved," he accused.

She smiled. "Forgive me. I needed to attend to womanly things. I didn't think you'd want me doing that on your lap."

He made a face at her. "Ew. Womanly things." He grabbed his cane and pushed himself out of the chair, limping slowly to the kitchen. His right leg was stiff, but not in too much pain, and his left leg was finally awake. It had fallen asleep from having Cameron lounging on it for hours. Not that he minded. His leg did. "Would a womanly thing include going to the grocery store and getting big kid drinks?" he asked. "Because then, you could still do that and I wouldn't have to help. Because it would be a womanly thing, and therefore make me unfit to do it."

Cameron snorted and followed him into the kitchen. "Grocery shopping is a unisex thing," she stated matter-of-factly, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed loosely over her chest. "If I go, you go."

His eyes roamed her body and he smirked lecherously. "You going looking like that? Because then, I'll go. I will go and I will enjoy it immensely."

"I bet you would." She opened the fridge and grabbed the soy milk, pouring herself a glass. "I suppose we could go grocery shopping, even though there are plenty of leftovers in here." She put the soy milk back and took a sip, turning to face House. "But I'm not going dressed like this, and you have to go halfsies on it."

"How lame. They're not even my groceries," he sniffed.

"You want them? You help pay for them. That's just the way it goes," she replied, patting him on the head.

"You realize that if we go grocery shopping together, people will figure out that I'm not just sleeping over for a while," he warned. "They'll figure out that we're seeing each other."

"If I had a problem with people figuring it out, I wouldn't have slept with you in the first place," she said with a quirked brow. "Do you have a problem with people knowing?"

"Certain people, yes," he answered without hesitation. "Wilson can know. Cuddy can know. You can even quack to the other two ducklings. But no one beyond that. Well, besides your family. Obviously, they can know, too."

Cameron was quiet for a few tense moments before setting her glass in the sink and leaving the room without a word. She went to her bedroom and grabbed clothing out of her drawers, tossing it carelessly on the bed. Soundlessly, she started picking up the clothing that had been tossed all over the room last night and threw it in the laundry basket before beginning to pull on her clothing for the day.

House came into the room as she was slipping into a thong. He closed his eyes and shook his head to clear it. "You're angry," he said simply, tapping his cane agitatedly on the floor.

"I'm not angry," she said, her jaw tensing when she spoke. She bent down and picked up a black bra that she'd chosen for the day and put it on before turning to face him. "Why would I be angry?"

"You're clenching, Cameron."

"I am not clenching!"

"You are. You're standing there in your bra and a thong and you're clenching at me. Not that you don't look incredibly sexy doing it," he allowed with a nod of his head. "But I'd like to at least know why you're doing it." He wasn't as stupid as he was letting on. He knew why she was pissed off. He just wanted to hear her say it so that he could tell her exactly why no one should know.

She turned around and grabbed her jeans, pulling them on and buttoning and zipping them quickly. "I don't understand why people shouldn't know," she said with a disconcerted sigh. "Are you ashamed because of the age difference? Because most men might flaunt that."

House rolled his eyes and leaned heavily on his cane. "What the hell do you think would happen if word got out at the hospital that you were dating me?" he asked with a frown. "I sign your paychecks and write your reviews. Other doctors would think you were sleeping your way to the top."

"Who cares what they think?" she snapped, pulling a black sweater on. "It doesn't matter to me. I don't plan on spending the rest of my career at PPTH. I'm done there in another year. After that, I won't see any of those doctors again. I can have you or Cuddy write my recommendation letters."

"Cuddy would have to fire both of us if it got out around the hospital," House said bluntly.

"I can't believe I'm arguing about this with you just because you won't come out to get some damned groceries, Greg," she snapped, grabbing her purse off of the dresser and checking to be sure that everything she needed was inside of it. "No one would notice that we were a couple just because we were getting groceries. You can explain that you're staying here until the terminator calls." She zipped up the purse and left the bedroom, pulling her coat on in the living room.

"I can't believe you're getting angry about this!" House exclaimed with a laugh. "I could have been joking."

"But you weren't, House."

From 'Greg' to 'House' in two seconds, he thought disbelievingly. "No. I wasn't. But I could have been." He took in Cameron's angry stance and blew out his breath. "Look, I'll go throw a shirt on and come with you."

"No," she said, opening the door. "Stay here. I'll be back in a little bit."

Before he had the chance to argue with her, she'd slammed the door and left. He stood there, awed, before turning to face the empty apartment. There was no way he was staying here while Cameron was out being bitchy.

He went to the bedroom and changed before locking the door from the inside and going to hop on his bike. She could go ahead and go to the damned grocery store. He was going to Wilson's.