Starts during the episode Control in Season 1. (1x14)

Chapter 1

"Where is Cameron?", House asked, staring at the whiteboard trying to figure out what was wrong with their latest patient. "She went home", Foreman stated, uninterestedly "Said she wasn't feeling well". "Hmph", House murmured, acting as though the statement meant as much to him as if Foreman had told him it was due to rain that day. Back in his office, after sending Foreman and Chase off to do various tests on their patient, he pondered what Foreman had told him. Cameron wasn't feeling good. He knew the timing was no coincidence. Just this morning he had told her that he didn't like her, and now she suddenly wasn't feeling well? He didn't buy it. Although he inwardly doubted that his answer to her question as to whether or not he liked her could have really had that much of an effect on her. "Better to be sure though", he thought to himself as he pulled on his blazer, grabbed his cane and limped out of his office towards the elevator.

Arriving at her building he noticed her car sitting in its usual spot. As he got out of his car, he checked her windows for any sign that she was home but there were no lights on. This didn't surprise him as it was mid afternoon and there would be no need for lights. He climbed the stairs to her first floor apartment, cursing the every step as he climbed them. He reached her door and searched for her spare key. He found it above the door jamb, out of sight enough that even though he was looking for it, he almost didn't spot it. He let himself in quietly, half expecting her to be sitting in her living room with 911 on speed dial. However, the room was deserted.

As he made his was through her apartment, he noticed little touches here and there that were innately "Cameron". A plant pot in a corner no doubt places there to brighten it up. A photo wall in the hall where he presumed the three doors led to her bedroom, bathroom and an office? Spare room? He'd find out another time. He crept as quietly as possible through trying not to disturb her as she could be in any of these rooms. Then he heard a sigh coming from the room at the end of the hall. He opened the door as slowly as possible so as to prevent it creaking and peered in to the room. The room was bright from the afternoon sun streaming in her bedroom windows. He saw her then, curled up in a ball under her covers, fast asleep. When he looked closer, he saw definite evidence of crying on her face. Then he spotted it. Sitting about a foot away from her on the bed was a green, leather-bound book with a gold clasp holding it closed. He walked around her bed and picked it up. Undoing the clasp he read the first page and the reality hit him. This was her diary. He opened it on the most recent entry finding that it was indeed from today.

Well I gave it a shot. I asked House if he liked me. I don't know what I was expecting. Of course he said no, and why wouldn't he? I thought that inviting me to see monster trucks with him was his way of making the first move. Even though he had clearly stated that it wasn't a date, I figured it was just House being House. I don't know why I let him affect me so much. I just wish I knew why he didn't like me. Is it me? It has to be. I hate that I let him reduce me to one of those girls who is sitting at home crying and wondering why she isn't good enough. I actually left work early. I couldn't look at him another minute. He would see the tears and out that down to another weakness, another reason to dislike me. I am now counting down the days until my fellowship is up and I don't have to hurt every time I look at him. I never should have said anything.

He knew he shouldn't be looking at anymore, but he couldn't help himself. He walked slowly over to the chair in the corner of the room, where he would be out of her viewpoint if she woke up suddenly. The first page was from about six months ago. He wondered inwardly where she kept the ones that she'd already filled. As he began to read, he realised that her sunny demeanour and optimism barely scratched the surface of her personality. He flicked back to the first entry and it actually shocked him. It was from the time they had treated the babies that were sick.

I don't know how I can bare telling those poor families that their babies might die. House is pushing for me to be the one to do it. Wilson is trying to be supportive but they don't understand. Wilson has to give bad news on a daily basis, I don't think he's realised that he has built up an armour to the effects of it. Every time I see their faces I'm reminded of how it felt when I was the one receiving the news. House is angry because I can't tell them. I just don't know how to shatter their world like that. I hope we find out what it is that's causing this sickness.

He read on to the following entry.

I cannot BELIEVE that sick bastard. He wants us to use the babies as test subjects. One treatment for one and another for the other. Oh and he wants me to be the one to tell one of the families. If he doesn't stop pushing me on this I'm going to end up pushing him through that damned glass wall. Of course Cuddy is going to let him because she's never said the word no to him in her life. It's easy to see that House has never undergone any real loss in his life because he is so crude about the idea of losing a child. God he makes me so mad. To think I actually thought I could care for him. What is wrong with me?

House sat in the armchair, stunned at what he had just read. Sick bastard was he? It seemed to be that Cameron wasn't half as sweet as she gave the impression she was. He was intent on reading on until he saw her stir out of the corner of his eye. He quickly replaced the diary to its original position, intending on coming back when he knew she was not home. He got out of the apartment as fast as his limp would carry him.

HCHCHCHCHCHCHCHCHCHCHCHCHCHCHCHCHCHCHC

Cameron awoke feeling strange. She glanced around her room which was still bright with sunlight. She checked her watch and realised that she had only been home for an hour and a half, meaning she hadn't been asleep for all that long. She rubbed her eyes, which felt sore and swollen, and sat up. She got up and walked to her en-suite bathroom. Looking in the mirror, she laughed at her reflection. Her swollen eyes and tear stained cheeks made her look and feel ridiculous. Switching on the shower she decided to wash her day away and try to go back to feeling normal. Hopefully House would just act as though nothing had happened.