REMINDER: i don't own the characters (except isabelle), i merely manipulate them.

"Go home." Cuddy told Cameron kindly from her place behind the desk. Cameron nodded, more than a little relieved, and headed out of the office.

"Dr. Cameron?"

"Yes?" Stopping by the door, she turned to look at Cuddy.

"Are you alright?" Her boss asked gently, sounding as concerned as Chase had been previously that day.

"Yeah, I'm just really tired.' Cameron gave a weak smile, attempting to hide the lie she was about to tell, "I was… sick through the night."

Not thoroughly convinced, Cuddy decided to let it slide. She trusted the young doctor's judgement, even if she was paler than usual and very obviously lying through her teeth. "OK. Take it easy driving home."

-----------HOUSE MD-----------

As Cameron passed the clinic she heard Foreman call her name.

"What now?" she grumbled, trying to pretend she hadn't heard him. She knew Foreman and Chase were worried and they had every right to be, as a rule she did not usually run from the room to vomit, but at this moment all she wanted was to go home. She did not care or want to worry about them worrying about her.

"Are you going home?" Foreman asked as he approached.

Cameron looked pointedly at the bag slung over her shoulder. He followed her gaze and shifted his feet uncomfortably.

"I just… are you alright?" he asked hesitantly. Normally Cameron would have found his concern flattering, but at this moment it caused her to flush with anger.

"No! I'm not alright! I'm going home, aren't I? I wish everyone would just leave me the hell alone!" snapped Cameron with unnecessary force, throwing her hands in the air and storming out of the clinic before Foreman could react. Immediately, she felt guilty for blasting him, but her need for some alone time outweighed any remorse. Besides, she told herself, why did everyone feel the need to know ever moment of her life or feeling she had?

Switching to autopilot somewhere between the hospital doors and her car, Cameron found herself ten minutes later sitting on the edge of her bed without any recollection of the drive home. She sat in complete silence, staring unblinkingly at a spot on her wall with her back perfectly straight and her shoulders stiff.

Suddenly her eyes burned as all her emotions rose to the surface, fighting to be freed. All the thoughts and feelings she had suppressed over the last day spilled down her front, leaving glistening trails down her cheeks. She lay down and wept, each sob stronger than the last, until every muscle on her body shuddered and screamed.

She must have cried herself to sleep, for the next thing she knew she was staring into the darkness, her covers were strewn everywhere and her stomach was painfully empty. Rising unsteadily from the bed, Cameron staggered into the kitchen, fumbling for the light switch, and flicked it on. She headed to the cupboard searching for something quick and easy to make. She wasn't really the cooking type and tonight, especially, she wanted something with minimal preparation and minimal mess.

Pulling out a loaf of bread, and rummaging in the fridge, Cameron sighed to herself. She needed to go to the market, not to mention clean the morning dishes, but she felt lifeless. Slapping some slightly out-of-date sandwich meat between two slices of bread, Cameron yawned. Not bothering to cut her sandwich, she shuffled over to the television and switched it on.

"Petechial haemorrhaging and ligature marks on her neck. The victim was strangled, with what appears to be rope, or possibly even cord. These marks here are particularly-" Cameron flicked the channel furiously, her heart pounding in her ears as the news cast reporting Isabelle's death instantly sprang to mind. She didn't find forensic shows appealing anymore.

"We need to intubate!" A young, extremely attractive doctor cried dramatically. Cameron snorted bitterly as she watched the actors 'intubate' the patient, who was breathing quite normally, and even blinked a couple of times. When further inspection of the channels produced nothing but mindless soaps and boring movies, Cameron settled for a documentary series on Australian marsupials. She tucked her feet up and made herself comfortable.

"The red kangaroo, or Macropus Rufus, can reach a height of 9 feet, and weigh up to 150 pounds. The males can be quite dangerous and have been known to attack humans,"

Finishing off her sandwich and yawning again, her eyelids were heavy with sleep, and her head ached. She felt herself sink into the warm couch, and failed to hold onto consciousness. Her grip on the remote control loosened, and it fell to the floor with a clatter.

Cameron woke up hours later to a piercing scream. She sat up in alarm and scanned the room, her eyes wide.

"Bald Eagles live near large bodies of open water such as lakes, marshes, seacoasts and rivers, where there are plenty of fish to eat…"

She inhaled deeply, and let the air out with a sigh. In the wavering light cast by the television, Cameron could see the remote lying on the floor. She picked it up hoping to switch the TV off, but noticed the batteries were missing. Instead she heaved herself off the couch, and flicked the power button off on the television itself.

As she was stretching, Cameron froze, her breath catching in her throat. There was movement in her peripheral vision. A noise coming from the kitchen made her jump. Turning her head to investigate, she could hear a heavy pounding rhythm, and realised she had been holding her breath. Taking deep breaths to steady her heart, Cameron slowly moved towards the kitchen.

'Maybe it's the cat. Wait, I don't have a cat' she thought nervously as she edged closer.

'Why is the light off? I didn't switch the light off' her heart sped up again, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

She reached the kitchen and hesitated before entering in one swift movement. Nothing. Light from the streetlamps outside filtered in, exposing the empty room. Cameron let out a relieved sigh, and chastised herself for being jumpy and ridiculous as she turned on her heel to go to her bedroom. Rounding the corner she met Isabelle's fixed gaze. Cameron's mind barely had a chance to register the fact the dead girl was standing before her before she screamed and threw her hands over her eyes. Sobbing and clutching her chest with her eyes still screwed shut, Cameron was unaware she was sinking to her knees.

After what seemed like hours, Cameron, huddled on the floor with sweat trickling gently down her back, slowly raised her head and opened her eyes. The image of Isabelle staring at her still burned on the back of her eyelids, but no one was there. Her hallway was bare, and her bedroom door was ajar, inviting her in.

The alarm clock on Cameron's bedside table read 12:14 am, which was earlier than she expected. She quickly removed her work clothes, and shivered as the cool air hit her damp skin. She threw a t-shirt on, crawled into bed, and pulled the covers over her head. It became unbearably warm and even difficult for her to breathe, but she didn't remove them.

Even hours later as sleep finally took over Cameron couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.