Chapter 27

House blinked his eyes open to see the movie credits rolling on the TV. He took a deep breath and prepared for a good stretch, but stopped when he noticed a weight on his chest. He looked down at a tousled head of hair. Somehow during the movie, he and Cameron had fallen asleep, and Cameron had ended up snuggled into his chest. House closed his eyes and took another deep breath, enjoying the pleasant scent of Cameron's shampoo.

House tilted his head to one side so he could get a look at her face while she slept. He smiled softly, gazing at her loveliness, until his eyes came across the now purple bruise on her cheek. He closed his eyes once more. He had done that to her. He had marked her, interrupted her beauty with his ugliness. He knew that she understood, and forgave him, but could he forgive himself? Had he really fallen so far? Addicted to pain pills, well on his way to developing an alcohol problem, in jeopardy of losing his job and now he'd hit a woman. Not just any woman, Cameron. Could he get any lower? He supposed he could, but how much lower before he couldn't live with himself?

Before House could ruminate any further about the horrible downward spiral of his life, Cameron stirred on his chest. She picked up her head, rubbed her eyes and looked around, confused. Then, realizing where she was, she leaned back quickly, relieving the pressure on House's chest.

"Sorry," she muttered, embarrassed. Cameron ran her fingers through her hair, and quickly wiped her face, in case she had drooled. She stretched, and then checked her watch. It was past midnight. She stood, and looked down at House.

"It's late, I should go home," she said, looking at him. She wanted to be sure he was going to be okay before she left. She remembered her first night after she'd realized she had a real problem, and how alone she'd felt.

House just stared back at her, his blue eyes a mystery. Usually Cameron felt like she could see something in his eyes that didn't play on his face, but not now. She had no idea what he was thinking. Sensing that he wasn't going to answer her, she turned to gather her things and go home.

"Stay."

Cameron paused; she thought he'd said something. She turned and looked at him, but again could read nothing in his expression. She decided she'd imagined it. She turned again to leave, when she felt his hand on hers.

"Stay."

Cameron turned and looked at him. Their eyes locked, and she could read him now. He was guilty, he was in pain and he was scared. She knew all those feelings. Slowly, she nodded her head.

House stood and pulled Cameron toward the bedroom. She followed him, hesitatingly. She wasn't sure exactly what he had in mind. When they entered the bedroom she stopped in the doorway. House had made his way to the dresser, and took out a large t-shirt and pajama pants. He walked back toward Cameron, handed her the t-shirt and then continued past her to the bathroom. Cameron quickly removed her clothes and slipped the t-shirt over her head. It was just long enough to serve as a nightgown. As she pulled her hair out of the collar, she took a deep breath. The t-shirt smelled like House.

House came back into the bedroom. He was still wearing the t-shirt he'd had on earlier, but had changed his jeans for his pajama pants. He turned off the light, took Cameron's hand and led her to the bed. Pulling down the covers, he indicated for her to get in. She hesitated again. House pleaded with her with his eyes, and she climbed into the far side of the bed, leaving room for him to lie down next to her. House climbed into the bed next to Cameron, lay on his back and pulled the covers to his waist.

Cameron, lying on her back, turned her head to look at him. He stared straight at the ceiling. She settled herself deeper into the pillow when she felt a hand fumbling under the covers. She stiffened, but the hand found hers and laced their fingers together. Cameron smiled, and squeezed his hand. She closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.

House felt Cameron turn and look at him, but he didn't feel like he could face her just yet. Not this close, not this intimate. He didn't want her to leave; he didn't want to be alone but he couldn't admit it. Not in words, anyway. He thought she understood, but just to be certain, he felt under the covers for her hand. She gave his hand a squeeze, and he felt better. He closed his eyes, and fell back to sleep.

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House woke up alone. The quality of the light coming in the window told him it was past mid-morning, possibly verging on noon. He closed his eyes again as a wave of nausea rolled over him. He realized he'd never taken any Vicodin while Cameron had been there the night before, and his body was screaming for it. He could feel the shaking beginning in his hands, and a headache was rumbling behind his right eye. He took a deep breath to try to fight off the nausea, but it was a losing battle. He stumbled out of bed and hobbled quickly to the bathroom, barely making it before he began dry heaving over the toilet. After a horrible twenty minutes of that, he collapsed onto the floor, exhausted, exhausted and angry.

He was angry with Stacy for doing this to him, with Cuddy for allowing Stacy to do this to him. He was angry with Wilson for letting the board force him into rehab. He was angry with Cameron for … His face crumpled, deflated. Tears began to form behind his eyes, which only made him angrier. Now, however, he was angry with himself. He was angry that he'd let himself be beaten by those stupid pills. He sat on the bathroom floor and willed himself not to cry.

Certain that he'd gotten himself under control, and relatively certain he wasn't going to vomit on himself, House got up and went to the kitchen to make coffee. As he reached the kitchen, he could smell coffee was already brewing. He looked around to see if Cameron had just gotten up before him, but she wasn't there. Confused, House peered at his coffee pot. Amazed, he noticed a timer setting. Cameron had set up a pot of coffee and turned on the timer for 11am. House checked his watch. 11:07. How did she know what time he'd get up? And how had he not known his coffee pot had a timer?

House got a mug and poured himself a cup of Cameron's coffee. He closed his eyes as he swallowed the first sip. It was even better at home than it was at the office. Looking around the kitchen, he also noticed that she'd washed the dishes and cleaned up the food from last night. The kitchen table was bare, save a large manila envelope with his name on it.

House put down his coffee and opened the envelope. Inside he found information on seven or eight different drug treatment facilities. There were several in the immediate area that had out patient programs, and one in Atlanta that specialized in doctors who had drug problems. Also enclosed, in typical Cameron fashion, was a pro and con list for each of the programs. As House shuffled through the pages, a smaller piece of paper fluttered to the table. House picked it up.

House,

Thought these might be helpful. I'm sure Cuddy would give you the time off. Don't worry, I won't let the boys take over your office if you go.

Cameron

P.S. Enjoying the coffee?

House shook his head. He slid the papers back into the envelope, tossed it on top of the trash, grabbed his coffee and headed back to his bedroom.

Several minutes later, he came back into the kitchen, fished the envelope out of the trash and put it back on the table.

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House entered the front doors of the hospital on Monday morning at a respectable hour. He passed the elevators and went straight to Cuddy's office. He wasn't looking forward to this meeting, but he figured it would be better to get it over with. And, if he was fired, there was no sense in working.

House opened the door and stepped into Cuddy's office without knocking. She looked up from her desk, exasperated. House opened his mouth to say something nasty, as usual, and then decided that if he wasn't fired yet, maybe he'd better just shut up for once. He sat down in one of the chairs in front of Cuddy's desk and waited.

"Good morning, Dr. House," Cuddy said.

"Cuddy," House replied.

"That's it?" Cuddy asked. "No comments about my blouse, or lack thereof?"

"Nope, turning over a new leaf," House answered.

"Right, and Satan's not really a bad guy, just misunderstood," Cuddy snarked at him. She got up from her chair and came around the desk to sit in the chair next to House.

"Greg, are you okay?" she asked.

"Fine," House replied. "So, am I fired or what?"

"No beating around the bush with you today, is there?" Cuddy asked.

"Look, I don't do the whole emotional, let's talk about our feelings and have a group hug thing. I'll work it out. Do I still have a job or don't I?" House was actually quite anxious about this. Although his contract with the board said he'd be fired for failing to complete rehab, he was pretty sure hitting an employee was a no-no.

"You do. And you can thank Dr. Cameron for it." Cuddy answered.

"Cameron?" House asked.

"Yes, Cameron. You remember her, don't you? Long brown hair, works in your office, cured your patient on Friday?" Cuddy got up, walked back behind her desk and sat down.

"I know who Cameron is. What do you mean, I owe my job to Cameron?" House demanded.

"One of the nurses saw what happened Friday afternoon. She reported it to one of the board members, instead of coming to me, and the board called an emergency meeting. They had actually just begun voting to fire you immediately, when Dr. Cameron burst in, unannounced, and told everyone that you didn't hit her." Cuddy said.

"She did what?" House asked, incredulous.

"Are you having a hearing problem today, Dr. House?" Cuddy asked. House made an impatient face at her. "She told the board that she had rushed into the patient's room to show you the most recent test results, and that she ran into you and nearly knocked you over. She then told the board that she assumed, since most of the nurses in the hospital are scared to death of you, that the nurse must have seen it was you and just assumed the worst." Cuddy smirked at the expression on House's face. One might describe it as flabbergasted? "Luckily for you, the only other people who were still here were Dr. Foreman and Dr. Chase, who, even more unbelievably, corroborated her story. After that I convinced the board to simply note your file with another complaint from the nursing staff." Cuddy looked at House, whose expression had softened slightly to astonishment.

"I can't believe she did that," House finally replied.

"Neither could I," Cuddy remarked. "Actually, one or two of the board members accused you of putting her up to it. Dr. Cameron told the board that if you found out she'd come in there to help you, you would probably fire her on the spot. Most of the board members seemed to find that believable enough."

House just nodded. He was almost speechless, a rare occurrence to say the least. Cameron was absolutely blowing his mind the past few days.

"Okay then. I guess I'll head up to my office," House stood and turned to leave.

"Oh no you don't. Clinic. Now." Cuddy commanded.

House groaned, but went to the clinic anyway. Beats getting fired, he told himself.