Disclaimer: Not ... mine...

A/N: Thanks to everyone for the great comments! Lots of you are curious about Cameron's condition... lol. Sorry to disappoint, which I know this chapter will do. But stick with me! I promise plenty of surprises before this fic is done. Thank you for reading, and I'm very glad that you're enjoying it.

Chapter Twenty

House awoke and looked at the clock. It was noon, and Cameron was still sleeping peacefully, curled up at his side. Thank God for days off. He studied the sleeping woman curiously.

Cameron's emotional demeanor lately and huge craving for salt could very well be explained by stress. He, however, had the sneaking suspicion that she could be pregnant. They'd always used condoms, but those were far from fool-proof. And she wasn't on the pill, so the possibility was there. Which was precisely why he'd found time last night to pull Andrew aside and ask him about it.

Andrew had confirmed what Cameron had told him in the first place. She'd munched on potato chips and pretzels during high stress times since her first year of college. The first year of med school brought about screaming matches and crying jags. She wasn't likely to be pregnant.

He was surprised that he felt … well … a bit disappointed. It made no sense for him to be disheartened that Cameron wasn't pregnant. He should be celebrating, for Christ's sake, not wondering how it could have turned out. But there was a part of him that wanted to see Cameron as a mother. He couldn't quite see himself as a father… But somehow, he knew that she would make up for his shortcomings.

With a thoughtful frown, he turned to study her while she slept. She'd been pregnant before, he knew, and had miscarried. The miscarriage was most likely due to the stress of the knowledge that she was going to lose her husband. Yet, she wanted to be pregnant again. She still wanted a child.

And he was such a sucker for her… He'd give her anything she wanted.

She stirred and yawned, cracking an eye open to look at him. "What time is it?" she asked groggily.

He glanced at the clock. "Quarter after twelve," he informed her, and kissed her forehead. "Merry Christmas."

She smiled at him. "Merry Christmas." With another yawn, she rubbed her eyes and rested her head on his chest. "What are we going to do today?"

"Hmm… Sit around. Do something that doesn't require the use of brain cells?" He wrapped his arm around her and settled under the covers. "I was thinking about-"

Whatever it was he'd been thinking about would have to wait since the phone was ringing. He rolled his eyes and grabbed it, clicking it on. "House." He frowned instantaneously. "Hi, Mom…"

Cameron's eyes lit up with interest and she sat up, pulling the covers over her chest and watching House as he spoke to his mother. He looked … sheepish, really. He scratched the back of his neck and hunched over as he answered her questions.

"Nothing. I know that it's Christmas. Well, no, I've got… Mom…" He looked at Cameron and rolled his eyes. "I'm not spending it alone. I have someone over." He paused. "Who? Ah…"

Cameron smirked and sat back comfortably, watching House squirm. He'd said before that his mother was a human lie detector. She'd watch the woman work her magic and not even have to hear what was being said.

He laughed. "No, Mom, not a 'woman of the night.' Who the hell even uses that anymore? Well … besides embarrassed parents." He noticed Cameron's smug look and flicked her knee. "Yes, it's a woman. No, I'm not playing- Mom, I'm not trying to-" He sighed and rolled his eyes as he listened to whatever it was his mother was saying.

"Someone's in trouble," Cameron said in a singsong voice.

House grabbed his cane and waved it at her as a warning. "Yes, that was her. Who is she?" He paused awkwardly before grabbing his boxers up off of the floor and slipping into them. "Remember Dr. Cameron? You met her when… Yeah, that's her." Another pause, then a snort of laughter. "Yes, she's my employee. Probably not ethical, but since Cuddy doesn't mind…"

Cameron snorted and tugged on the back of his boxers. "Where do you think you're going?" she whispered into his free ear. "You got to hear me get bitched out by my mother before. It's my turn."

He glared at her. "No, Mom, it isn't a fling. Marriage? Yeah, actually. She said yes." He listened and cringed. "You really don't have to… Mom, it isn't… No. Okay. Fine. Seven. Love you, too. Bye."

Cameron looked at House curiously. "Seven?"

"My parents are in town, and they're coming over," he groaned.

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By a quarter to seven, Cameron had managed to whip up a dinner that, House had to admit, looked and smelled delectable. He'd told her that she didn't have to, but she'd insisted. When he asked if she was trying to impress his parents, she reminded him, for what had to be the millionth time, that she cooked when she was upset or nervous.

He couldn't believe she'd be nervous about meeting his parents since she'd already met them. She pointed out that she'd met them as his employee, not his fiancé. He didn't see the difference, and she tossed a spatula at him.

He'd tidied up the living room, as he had promised her. Of course, it wasn't clean. It was still cluttered, but it was livable now. As he was about to sit on the couch, there was a knock at the door. "You're not going to pass out on me or anything, are you?" he asked Cameron suspiciously.

"No," she said with a small laugh. "Why would you think that?"

"You're wringing your hands," he pointed out before opening the door and welcoming his parents in. He received a hug and a kiss on the cheek from his mom, and nothing from his dad.

"It's so clean," his mother said before seeing Cameron standing in the doorway to the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "And you must be the fiancé."

House looked at Cameron with a smile. "This is Allison."

She smiled and went to the woman, embracing her lightly. "I'm so glad you're marrying him. We thought he'd never do it."

Cameron laughed and hugged back. "Thanks," she said with a smile.

House's dad stood in the doorway, looking just as awkward as his son. "You sure you're old enough to be marrying?" he asked snidely.

"No, but she's old enough to drink," House retorted coldly. "So I keep her around."

His mother frowned. "Boys…" She turned back to Cameron. "I'm Blythe, if you don't remember. That's John. You can ignore most of what he says; he's grumpy."

Cameron smiled. "I made dinner, if you're hungry," she told both of them.

"She cooks?" John asked.

House rolled his eyes. "You can ask her these things. She can speak very well. She's even capable of forming full sentences. We're working on her walking skills, though. They're not quite where they should be."

"Greg…" Blythe intoned gently. "Why don't we just sit down to a nice dinner? There's no need to snap at each other."

Cameron looked at Blythe in awe. The woman was … completely opposite of House.

"I'll help set the table," he volunteered. Cameron would be surprised if it weren't for the fact that she was positive he was only doing it to get away from his father.

"No, you sit with your father," Blythe said with a smile. "I'll help Allison."

Though he wanted to, House didn't object. He and John sat at the table, on opposite sides of the table, and Blythe went into the kitchen with Cameron.

"Those two are always like that," Blythe told the younger woman who was placing dinner on a serving platter. "I think Greg resents his father."

"I'm sure he does," Cameron said quietly. "I don't know why. He doesn't talk about it, and I'm not going to prod. He'll tell me when he's ready." She sprinkled on some final seasonings.

Blythe smiled as she found the plates, silverware, and glasses. "I thought there was something about you when I first met you," she said softly. She seemed to just have a natural, soft, motherly demeanor about her, and that put Cameron at ease. "You're young, but I don't think you're naïve. You're good for him."

Cameron smiled and studied House's mother. He'd said she was the typical housewife, and she wondered if that was true. Her own mother had worked full-time until Adam was born, and by that time, Cameron was busy with high school. "You can tell that from one meeting?" she asked.

Blythe just smiled serenely. "I'm a mother," she said simply, setting the silverware on the plates. "It's all about intuition." She watched Cameron busy herself in the kitchen and leaned comfortably against the counter-top. "Are you two planning on having children?"

"Um…" She turned off a burner and poured the sauce that she was making over the main dish. "Not planning on it, no. But if it happens, we're letting it."

Blythe grinned. "In other words?"

Cameron laughed lightly. "We aren't using condoms."

"Oh, good," she replied with a smile. "I'm glad that you two are just letting things happen. I'd like to see Greg as a father. He'd make a good one."

"I think so, too." Cameron marveled at how easy it was to talk to House's mother. She'd expected to be extremely nervous and polite. But things were comfortable instead of strained. "He doesn't, though."

"Well, Greg's father was very busy during his childhood. He probably fears that he'll be just like him." She smiled reassuringly. "He won't."

They served dinner, which was awkward. House wouldn't even look at his father, which distressed Cameron, even though she knew that it shouldn't. Blythe struck up conversation after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.

"So Allison… How did this whole thing start?" she asked kindly.

"My apartment was infested with roaches," House answered. "I needed a place to stay."

"Jim was still moving into his new place," Cameron explained. "Our two coworkers had problems, too. My place was the only one open."

"So he got a case of Stockholm Syndrome?" John asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Cameron's gaze slid over to the man. "I'd like to think I wasn't exactly his captor," she said flatly. She did not like this man one bit.

House frowned angrily at his father. "She may have tied me to the bed, but I swear I was a willing participant."

Cameron blushed furiously and sipped at her water, John choked on the bite of food he'd taken, and Blythe simply kept her serene smile in place. She knew how to handle Greg. After all, she'd raised him. "It's good to know you two have a healthy sexual relationship," she said peacefully.

Cameron flushed even more, if that was humanly possible, and excused herself from the table, going to hide in the bathroom. She was fine with Blythe; the woman was amazing and wonderful. Around John, however, she felt worse than she did around Stacy. Not only did she feel like a child, she felt like an idiot. He didn't even have to open his mouth to make her realize that he was being condescending. She felt sick to her stomach from the nerves that were flying through her.

Right as she bent over the toilet to vomit, House knocked lightly on the door and opened it slowly once he heard the retching noises. "Are you okay?" he asked with a frown.

She held her hair back and shook her head in the negative as she continued to dry-heave. Nothing was coming up, she just felt like it ought to be.

He came in and closed the door behind him, resting on the bathtub behind Cameron and holding her hair back for her. "Don't try to tell me this is due to nerves."

Once she felt that she wouldn't attempt to vomit again, she said back and wiped some sweat off of her forehead. "It is," she said glumly. "The night before I had my interview to come and work for you, I was so sick that I thought I'd have to call off."

"How the hell can you be a doctor with nerves like that?" he asked with a small laugh, letting go of her hair and running a washcloth under water before placing it on the back of her neck.

"It's only when I have to dwell on something," she explained. "Instantaneous decisions are one thing." She moved the cloth to her forehead. "Things that I have to dwell on are another."

"So … how would you tell the difference between your nerves and a possible pregnancy?" he asked suspiciously.

"For one, I'd actually vomit instead of dry-heave all over the place," she answered dryly. "And I'd feel weak and dizzy."

"You're the expert," he told her with a smirk, bending down to give her a kiss on the forehead. "Are you going to be okay, or should I ask Mom and Dad to leave? I don't mind asking Dad to leave…"

"Greg, your parents can stay. I just need a minute." She caressed his knee. "And I wouldn't mind if you would tell me what caused the rift between you and your father sometime."

"You might not, but I do," he grumbled.

"When you're ready," she said with a small smile. She stood and grabbed her toothbrush. Even though she hadn't actually gotten sick, she felt the need to brush her teeth. It was the idea that she could have vomited that made her want to clean her mouth.

"I'll go back out and tell them you're fine."

She nodded as she brushed her teeth. This evening had turned out to be a disaster, in her eyes. Things hadn't gone as smoothly as she would have liked, and she had to remind herself once more that not every family was like hers.

She finished brushing her teeth, took in a long, calming breath that she slowly let out, and replaced her toothbrush in its holder. She had to get over these nerves… They were completely ridiculous. After squaring her shoulders, she went back to the table, where House had apparently cleaned up. Blythe and John were in the living room, on the couch, and House was waiting for Cameron before he sat in a chair.

"Are you feeling all right?" Blythe asked calmly.

"I'm fine, thank you," Cameron responded with a small smile. "Just needed to freshen up."

Blythe nudged John in the side, and the older man frowned. "Good to know you're okay," he stated insincerely.

Cameron resisted the urge to frown and went to House's side, sitting on the arm of the chair. "So what are you in town for?" she asked conversationally. "Greg's told me that you're originally from Maryland."

"We decided to head to Maine for a bit," Blythe answered. "We're driving up there and we thought it might be nice to stop by."

"You thought," John muttered.

"We thought," Blythe retorted with a smile.

House shifted uncomfortably in his chair and frowned at his father. "I'm glad you stopped by, Mom." The deliberateness of addressing only his mother was there for a reason.

Blythe smiled sadly. "I'm glad we did, too."

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Blythe and John left around ten, and House and Cameron settled onto the couch quietly, both thinking about the visit from his parents.

House was upset. He was always upset when his father came within fifty feet of him. The two of them had an extremely volatile relationship, and it was mostly because House was so dissatisfied with the way that his father treated his mother. Blythe was a sweet woman; strong, humble, and loving. Any time he'd seen John with her in his youth, and that was a rare occurrence, something about the way John treated her never sat quite right with him.

It wasn't until he'd gone off to college that he realized his big beef with his father. The man was a condescending, arrogant jerk. House knew that he was like his father in that sense. What set them apart was the fact that House had a right to be a condescending, arrogant jerk. John had no right or reason to be. He was nothing more than an Air Force pilot; he hadn't actually fought in any wars, he hadn't even been in any conflicts. House sometimes wondered why his father had joined in the first place, but the curiosity always died quickly. He didn't care why his father had joined.

He didn't care about his father.

With a small sigh and a frown, he put his arm around Cameron's shoulders and pulled her closer to him. She obliged without any conflict, throwing an arm around his waist and resting her head on his chest. Neither of them spoke; they simply sat there in the silence. Speaking would seem awkward right now, though neither could quite figure out why.

After fifteen minutes of the silence, Cameron finally spoke. "I never got to give you your gift," she told him softly, keeping her head on his chest.

He smiled. "It'll be Christmas for another hour and a half. You've got time."

She poked his side and went to their room, bringing out a long box. "I couldn't think of anything you didn't already have," she admitted sheepishly. "And a tie was just too cliché."

"And there's that whole thing of me not wearing them," he pointed out, taking the box. He opened it and grinned at what he saw inside. It was a new cane. It was heavier than his current one, and black. And, he noticed, was topped with a caduceus. "Where did you find something like this?"

With a smile she took the box and set it on the table. "I found the cane at an art show back in late November. I bought it and found someone to put the medical symbol as a topper."

"It's heavy," he commented, feeling the weight in his hands.

"It's rosewood," she informed him. "The topper is solid sterling silver instead of hollow. I thought it suited you better. You know… For all of those times you feel the need to smack Wilson with it."

He snorted and set the cane on the floor. "Now I can do real damage." He went to the bookcase and pulled a small, black, velvet box out. It was the right size for a bracelet or necklace, and he handed it to Cameron.

She opened the box and her eyes widened. Inside was a golden necklace with a single, diamond pendant. With it was a pair of diamond earrings. "They're gorgeous…"

"They were my grandmother's," he explained quietly. "I inherited them. Obviously, I can't wear them. Well … I could, but it'd look really funny."

Cameron laughed and nudged him with her elbow. "You don't have to ruin every sweet moment you have with sarcasm."

"Oh, but I do," he replied, pulling her in for a kiss. "I just wouldn't be myself if I didn't."

"If you so much as think about snarking on our wedding day, I'll kill you," she promised, brushing another kiss across his lips.

"I'll be sure to wait until after the wedding day to put you as the benefactor on my life insurance policy, then." She stuck her tongue out at him, and he nipped lightly at it before pulling her close once more. "Let's call in sick tomorrow," he suggested.

"Because that won't look suspicious."

"I don't want to go in tomorrow," he whined. "I want to sit at home all day and do nothing. Except you."

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "You're so damned romantic."

"You love my romantic side," he retorted, wrapping his arms around her. "If you were with Wilson, he'd buy you flowers. Chase would buy you drugs. Foreman would steal you a car. I give you facetiousness and expect nothing in return. Except really good food."

"I'm so lucky," she drawled snidely, cuddling close to him.

"I wasn't joking about calling in sick tomorrow."

She sighed. "I'd love to… But we have four patients on standby, Greg. We can't just let them suffer."

He frowned and closed his eyes. "We can," he replied, caressing her side. "You just refuse to."

"I care too much."

"Yeah." He kissed the top of her head in acceptance. "It's okay, I suppose. I think I can live with it."

She smiled contentedly. "I love you," she whispered.

He was silent for a few moments, simply holding her. She wasn't expecting a response from him, really. She knew that he loved her without him having to say it. But she was pleasantly surprised when he held her tightly to him. "Love you, too."