I guess I should have written a disclaimer in the beginning, but I'll do it now... I don't own "House" or any of the characters, but I wish I'd had the creative impulse to come up with this show. As it is, though, I will enjoy Tuesdays and suffice to write about the characters. Enjoy chapter three, and thanks for the reviews.

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Sure, House was manipulative. He pushed Wilson to see how far he could go. Some thousands of dollars worth in loans weren't the only thing Wilson was willing to sacrifice in the name of friendship. But even Wilson could baulk, hurt and disappointed, at House's actions and callous responses.

The morning still had a hint of dampness to it as Wilson stood on the roof, gazing out beyond the edge. He took a deep breath. New Jersey air. A slight mix of flat saltiness and economic smog, tainted with the sterilized whiff of the hospital. A drab gray hung like an old cloak on the horizon, just beginning to ignite with the lackadaisical sun.

Footsteps clattered up behind him. Heels.

"House, I--" The clicking stopped abruptly. "Oh, I thought you were"

"No." Wilson moved words experimentally around in his head, wondering which ones to use and which ones to drop out of his conversation. He particularly didn't want to speak at all at the moment, but with this new company that would be nearly impossible.

He glanced behind him, wishing she could notice his anxiousness and take the hint. "Hey, Cameron."

"Hey." She skimmed the area as if she had landed in the wrong place. "I didn't know you were here."

"Just came in."

"Oh. You didn't happen to see House anywhere, did you? We have this patient, and I really need to actually examine him if we're going to figure anything out."

"Don't worry about it," Wilson said, returning his gaze to the skyline. "There's no patient and House is busy with his coffee in the white board room."

Cameron listened, only half-believing, while Wilson filled her in. She shook her head, befuddled as to why House would bother pulling such a seemingly random prank. Wilson had made sure to leave out his motive behind the whole escapade.
"It's House. He's bored. He's childish. I don't know, take your pick."

Wilson was about to relax, thinking that might have ended the conversation, until he heard the clicking of heels join his side. He stole a look at the young woman. Her open face caught the ribbons of light streaming towards them, and when she met his eyes he tried best he could to alleviate the pained expression he wore. Women. Wonderful. All he needed was some sentimental view of the entire situation.

"How's, uh... How's the team doing?" Wilson interrupted before she could question him.

"The team? Fine. Why? Is there something we should know about?"

"No. I just..." This was pointless. Maybe it didn't have anything to do with the ducklings.

Maybe it didn't have anything to do with Cameron.

"No."

Wilson checked his watch pointedly. Cameron wasn't going anywhere, though.

"How's House doing?"

"Apparently just fine judging by this morning."

"Then why are you on the roof?"

"Fresh air."

She paused for a moment, suspicious, then allowed a nod. "Okay. I just thought you might know why he's been acting weird lately."

"He's always acting weird."

"No. Not like this," Cameron insisted, her voice trailing as she tried to pinpoint just what was so off recently. "He's...distant. Like there's something in his head that's preoccupying him." She smiled softly. "I don't know, probably just a case he's working on, or his parents coming into town."

Despite himself, Wilson chuckled at Cameron's last facetious remark. He glanced down at his hands, which were gripping the railing of the roof and white around the knuckles.

Cameron watched him carefully, but turned slightly to leave anyway. "Well, let us know if he says anything to you"
"I probably won't be seeing him."

"He has been busy," Cameron acknowledged. "But, you know, later tonight..."

"No. I'm moving out finally." Maybe if he said it enough times, it would be easier.

"Oh." Then, after a pause, "Why? You've found a place?"

"I will be finding one."

He seemed far too brief in his responses for everything to be all right. Cameron's great talent for sensitive prodding was that she didn't realize it was not entirely sensitive-it was closer to nosey, but most found her sweet enough to humor her innocent prying.

"Something happened with House?"

"Yes. No. I... I guess I just realized it's impossible to live with someone who refuses to do the dishes and hasn't grown out of college pranks." He forced a smile, shrugging, trying, "I didn't even pull that stuff in the dorms back at school."

Cameron smiled back. "But you've found a temporary place in the meantime, right?"

"I have work to catch up on here anyway."

"You're not sleeping at the hospital."

"Why not? I'll get more rest here than at House's apartment."

Her eyes flashed. Wilson couldn't decide if it was curiosity or pity, or something else entirely. The sun was playing strange tricks on the horizon, illuminating the windows behind her and drenching her silhouette in white-gold.

"Well. I have a couch if you need it. It's better than the conference room chairs."

He watched her disappear back into the hospital. An ache in his back relentlessly reminded him of its sleeping preference.

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For once, Wilson didn't have to cook. The occasion was nice, though with Cameron fussing around the kitchen it did seem a bit awkwardly similar to a matrimonial setting. Wilson hung up his jacket and set his briefcase down in the corner, where she'd put her items as well.

It was later in the evening and, accompanied by amber-colored wine, the two lounged in the living room. Cameron was sitting across from him on the opposite sofa, perusing his face like she would a medical encyclopedia. It would be a miracle to get through this night without becoming her latest concern.

He had the urge to put his feet up on the coffee table. The glass top looked much more pristine than House's, though, so he kept his shoes planted to the carpeting.

Wilson tapped his glass aimlessly with his thumb. The topic was inevitable; he might as well take the initiative and start it. "Why did you like him?" he asked suddenly.

Oddly, Cameron didn't seem surprised at the turn in conversation. There was only one person "he" could be. She gazed into mid-space, losing herself in quiet contemplation. "I guess... He was right." She shrugged. "I saw a charity case."

"You felt bad for him."

"Don't you?"

He took a sip from the glass. The wine tasted brittle on his tongue. "No."

"That's why he likes you."

"Well. He has a creative way of showing it."

Cameron leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "You know that, though. You see it in the way he acts all the time. He's just...especially rude to people he's afraid could change him. It intimidates him."

Wilson nodded distantly, looking beyond her and to the wallpaper over her shoulder. Bland pattern. Long, nearly negligent blue lines. Too stiff. He missed the mellow green.

Where did that thought come from?

"What do you like about him?"

Wilson blinked, fading back into reality. "Hmm? What do I like...?"

"About House."

"He's, uh..." Wilson scratched a non-existent itch behind his ear. "He's a good friend, in his own way." He glanced up, thrown off when he realized Cameron was waiting, waiting for him to say something more. "He's...pompous, yes, but..."

"You like that quality?"

"In him, yeah. It works. I don't know."

"Do you miss him?"

Wilson raised his eyebrows in defense. "Do you?"

"I never knew him enough to miss him."

"Well, it's not like I have him living in my head, either. He still does things that..."

"That...?"

Wilson shrugged, letting his sentiments trail off into another sip of the wine.

God, what I'd give for whiskey--

Quickly, he set down the glass as if it were contagious. Clearing his throat, he sat back on the couch, stretching and trying to look tired without it seeming as if the plague had just settled down upon him.

"Uh, Allison, look, I don't want to be rude, but I think I'm going to try and catch some sleep if you don't mind."

Cameron stole a look at the clock behind him; 9:30. That was ridiculously early, but he had had a long day. Still, worry was smeared across her face like a bad finger-painting picture.

"I'll get you a blanket or something"

This was definitely not good, Wilson thought, glancing back at the wallpaper. It was tempting to blame sleep deprivation again, but that excuse only worked so many times.

After the dog eats your third term project, it soon becomes glaringly apparent that you don't even have a dog.

Wilson laughed aloud. That sounded just like House. Great. He might be out of his apartment, but maybe the man wasn't out of his head just yet.

Cameron draped the heavy cotton sheet over the arm of the couch. She thought the smile on Wilson's face seemed a bit out of place.

"James."

She sat down on the cushion beside him. He immediately flashed back to the millions of times he'd had to help her through giving patients bad news. The woman was absolutely incapable of losing hope. Nice quality in general; not so effective in a hospital. A patient could have a metastasized tumor the size of Montana and she'd still insist there was a chance.

"Look... I know we don't talk that much, but if you ever need something--"

"Allison, I'm good. You've given me a couch for the night. That's all I need."

"You sure?"

What, is that the phrase of the day?

Cameron startled as she caught something in his eyes. She knew that look. She'd seen it on her own face, coming home from the hospital that day, 21 years old with a far too heavy burden on her heart, that weight she'd knowingly taken on.

She'd insisted to her friends and family there was no pain. She'd accepted the marriage in some ways like a martyr. House thought it was pathetic, she figured. But House had never really loved anyone.

At least, not her. But the pain was fading. No pain, no pain.

She looked him over carefully. They'd both lost relationships, both in different ways, but his character didn't seem to fit the man she briefly knew from work. To mess up multiple times in wedlock, that takes almost as much dedication as it does to stay faithful. But was he a seductive or was he seduced? She couldn't tell.

"Cameron." Wilson looked up from unfolding the blanket. "Why did you offer a place to me?"

She blinked, caught off guard by the question. "I... I don't like seeing people sleep in a hospital. It's nice to go home to somewhere, isn't it?" In self-defense, she turned the question around. "Why didn't you just go home to House's?"

"I told you."

"No. You didn't."

Wilson paused, mind reverting to another track. "You invited me here because you wanted to find out about House," he said slowly.

"N-no, I didn't."

Wilson shrugged. "That's fine. I understand."

"But Wilson--"

"Even the self-sacrificing have their motives. Not every single action is altruistic."

Cameron stared hard at him. "Then don't lie to me either. You've put up with House for years. A few pranks aren't enough to make you leave." She waited, the silence taut between them. "He got to you."

"What do you mean, he 'got' to me?"

There was more she could have said. There was far more that she thought. But the expression on his face confirmed it without words.

"Good night, Wilson."