"Cameron."

"Fgraghal."

"What?" House poked her in the side with his cane. He was already late for work, and Cameron was still sleeping. "Cameron come on, we have work." Cameron grunted, pulling his blankets further over her head. She hadn't left his apartment since Friday night after the incident with Emily. They had spent all of Saturday and Sunday watching made-for-TV movies and eating stale popcorn. Wilson had called him a total of seven times with updates on Emily's condition -stable all weekend. But Wilson suspected House was secretly thankful for them, even though his voice got increasingly pissed off every time he called.

"Cameron," House tried again. "You can't stay home. Especially since I know you aren't sick." He gave her one sharper jab with the cane. "OK, you have made me resort to cruel tortures." Tucking his cane under one arm, he gripped the blankets and pulled them off the bed, exposing a shivering Cameron. She had her knees pulled tight into her chest and her eyes were squeezed shut to keep the light out.

"Away," she mumbled. House smiled; he had gotten her to use actual English, so she'd be up soon. He chuckled softly and limped out of the room, shutting the door behind him. He thought about making coffee, but changed his mind when he thought of Saturday morning's pot, which had tasted strangely like mud. Instead he pulled a half-empty jug of orange juice from the fridge and poured it all out between two glasses.

"Monday," Cameron moaned from the doorway. House smirked a little at her apparel; an old band t-shirt of his and a pair of his good wool socks pulled up to her bare knees. She looked so adorable and he couldn't believe she wanted to be with him. Angry, rude, old, mean Gregory House. He wasn't interesting or exciting. He couldn't take her for long walks on the beach. She knew that, and yet she wanted to be with him. If only he could stop being so paranoid and just be happy.

Ha. Yeah right.

"You better hurry," he said, handing her one of the glasses. "You need to be at work…" He glanced at his watch, brows lowering. "…Thirty-five minutes ago." Cameron squinted at him while slurping noisily on the juice.

"Why aren't you at work?"

"Well I couldn't very well leave you dead to the world in my apartment. Besides," he added, moving closer to her. "Work isn't nearly as interesting without you to berate for fun." He went into the living room, scooping his coat up from the couch. "But now that you're conscious, I think I can trust that you'll be in that conference room no later than ten thirty. Your car is still here, assuming hasn't been towed yet."

"Thank you." House glared at her, unsure of what to say. He tilted his head to her before he stepped out of his apartment and into the chilly October morning.

"You're late," Cuddy barked, right on cue as he entered the hospital.

'She looks tired,' he thought. Her eyes were bloodshot and shadowed by dark circles. She hadn't spent any time on her make-up that morning, and her hair wasn't neatly contained as per usual. She was a mess. House made a mental note to irritate her until she told him what was wrong. Or until she told Wilson who would tell him. Or something to that effect.

"What?" he asked innocently, twirling his cane like a baton in front of him. "I'm not allowed an early morning hooker?" Cuddy glared at him particularly menacingly, before stalking off to her office.

Foreman and Chase were sitting in the conference room bickering like children over something. House barreled noisily into his office, temporarily breaking up their conversation long enough for them to glance up at him. He'd only been staring blankly behind his desk for five minutes before Cameron came (much more gracefully) into the conference room. She took her time unpacking her computer and plugging it in, though she was itching to get House his coffee so that she would have at least two minutes of privacy with him. When she picked up the two steaming red mugs, Foreman lifted an eyebrow at her but said nothing. House didn't need to look up to know who had just entered his office. Cameron set one mug in front of him and sat slowly in the chair in front of him. His eyes locked on the coffee, House tapped his cane a few times before he could find his voice.

"So this weekend…"

"Never happened," Cameron put in, taking a long drink from her mug. House glanced up at her, a small fleck of hurt in his eyes.

"No, I meant…" he sighed, scratching the back of his thumb over his forehead. "It was…fun." Cameron stared at him a moment, unable to believe what he'd said.

"We should do it again…?" Cameron asked. House traced his finger around the rim of his cup.

"Yeah," he replied quietly. Cameron tried to hide the enormous smile that had found its way onto her face and lifted the coffee cup to her lips. "I think we should-" But Cameron didn't get to hear his plan because his pager started beeping shrilly, once again ruining their moment.

"Oh hell," House said, clearly irritated by what the screen was showing. Flashing Cameron an apologetic look, he got up and hobbled out of the room and toward the oncology department.

Wilson wasn't actually in his office when he arrived, but House didn't get called away from Cameron for nothing. He took a seat behind Wilson's desk, opening random drawers, looking for anything interesting. Wilson came in about ten minutes later, breathless and red faced, as if he had run three miles just to get there.

"Sorry," he gasped, shutting the door behind him. House barely blinked as Wilson started throwing things around, apparently searching for something.

"So..." House said over the noise Wilson was making. He was busy pulling drawers out of his file cabinets, but nodded his head to let House know he was listening. "Seen Cuddy today? What's up her ass?" Wilson stopped his search to turn and glare at House. This time, it made its point.

"Leave her alone, House," he growled. Raising an eyebrow, House lifted his cane to poke Wilson in the arm.

"What do you know?" Wilson threw his head back and closed his eyes, attempting to breathe.

"Just…leave her alone. Seriously. She shouldn't have to deal with you right now." House could see Wilson's hands shaking slightly. Something was up. Cuddy had been especially tetchy that morning – even for her – and Wilson was defending her? Since when did his best friend keep anything from him? This must be bad.

"Fine," House said calmly. He got up and went to the door, keeping his gaze away from Wilson. "But when you want to stop being a girl, you know where to find me." He pulled open the door and left, not caring that Wilson had slumped down against the wall, his head in his hands.

House took the long way back to his office so that he passed by Emily's room. She would be discharged on Friday, and he was not sure how much contact with her he'd have after that. She was lying back in her bed, her eyes on the TV. House stood outside the door, watching her for a while. He couldn't go in and talk to her. They weren't ready for that yet. When he looked at her, he felt something twist in his stomach. Something he'd come to recognize as guilt. He didn't much care for guilt.

Emily shifted in the bed, turning her head to look at her brother. House shifted uncomfortably for a second before finally turning to leave. Emily Watched him go, afraid of what their future would, or wouldn't, become.

The conference room was quiet. He suspected that his ducklings had gone off to take care of their patient. He went back to sit in his office, his eye on the door waiting for Wilson. Sure enough, his friend came glumly into the room and sunk into a chair opposite House. His face was still rosy but his breathing had returned to normal. House sat back patiently, tossing the over-sized tennis ball from hand to hand.

"I said come talk only when you were done being a girl," he said finally, breaking the silence. "And you obviously aren't done pouting." Wilson stuck his chin out, but didn't look into House's eyes.

"I can't believe what I've done," he said so quietly that House almost missed it.

"Did what?" Wilson only shook his head, regretting that he had opened his mouth. "Come on, Wilson." House stopped and thought for a moment. "Is it something to do with Cuddy?"

Wilson's sharp intake of breath should've been enough. His nervously twisting hands should've been enough. Most of all, the sickening knot that had settled into his own stomach should've been enough of an answer for House. Red flags were popping up right in front of his eyes. Had he suddenly become colorblind?

Wilson shook his head again, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Had he notmissed all the obvious signs, House would have stopped. He would have let it go, and let Wilson go back to pretending nothing was wrong. But he was going to find out one way or another.

"Wilson. You can't avoid it forever," he said, mimicking his friend's words perfectly. At last Wilson lifted his eyes and stared directly into House's as he uttered only two words,

"She's pregnant."