A/N: This is a cross with The West Wing. Because I am the author and thus have control over the people and the timelines. So be warned, I have The West Wing taking place years ago, before Cameron was born. To help with the timeline, I estimate Cameron's age at 36 years old at the beginning of the Season 3. So the Bartlet Administration began, gulp, 44 years ago. Just bare with me please.

Disclaimer:I don't won House, I really own…well, nothing, except my computer, a bunch of college textbooks, too many student loans, and can you own dreams?

The Prodigal Daughter

Chapter 1

Cameron took a deep breath and sighed, nothing made sense anymore. Why was it a bad thing to want just a normal practice? Why was it a bad thing to just want anonymity? To just want to be normal? Not famous, not world-renowned, just normal, that was all that she wanted. And what was wrong with that?

Looking at the stack of mail in front of her, she sighed again, at times she felt like her mother. Toiling away for a man who gave little to no indication of any feelings for her. No, that was wrong, Dad had given indicators over the years, including her favorite, the flowers for their "anniversary" which wasn't really an anniversary since no other boss and assistant had one.

She hadn't told Foreman why she wanted that normality, why she didn't want to be a world-renowned doctor. Hell, she didn't tell anyone about that, she figured that if they wanted to know, it was to damn easy to figure it out. Just Goggling her name or even her picture would get that answer for anyone who would want to know.

Cameron sighed again, and after checking to make sure no one else had arrived yet, she took her pills. Not the HIV pills, that scare was long gone and she'd hated it, because she'd had to tell people. Tell her doctor about the surgery and the pills, not that she didn't figure that House didn't know, after all he's looked at her medical record that first year of her fellowship. Oddly she'd been more upset that he could know about….about that night and the reason that she took the pills. Neatly stacking the mail in the center of House's desk, she sat done briefly in his chair.

His behavior since he'd returned the previous week had been odd, well to the others it had been odd. She knew what it was, but that was because she had it too, and she knew that he would never accept help. Not from her anyway. Maybe she'd talk to Stanley anyway, he might have some suggestions. She leaned back in House's chair, it was far more comfortable than the chairs in the conference room, definitely comfortable enough to fall asleep in. Maybe she should call Stanley for herself, she'd been having the dream again, ever since that day. The day that House had been shot, she'd practically begged Cuddy to have the carpet changed every day including actually begging the Dean of Medicine the day before he'd returned. But Cuddy hadn't understood, even Wilson hadn't understood why it NEEDED to be done. They both wanted to believe that all the pain and drama of Greg House that they had dealt with for the last seven years was over. That the Ketamine had literally fixed everything.

But she knew better, she knew. There were some things you just couldn't fix. Things that would never be fixed. House had been right when he'd accused her of being broken. She knew she was, she'd been broken since that when she was sixteen…that night she dreamed about. Although it had changed over the last two months, since she'd seen House shot.

Spinning the chair around to face the window, and closing her eyes, she fought back the tears, she knew how she felt about him. And she was pretty sure it wasn't going away. She'd hoped that he could fix her, she honestly didn't think he could be fixed, and except for the thing that only she could as a problem, she thought he was perfect. She didn't mind the sarcasm, the abrasiveness, or the gruff manner, in a way she had grown up with all of those things. Even if different people had embodied those qualities, not just one person. Hell, even her dad had the God complex that House shared, although her dad had also wanted to help people, as well as be right.

As she drifted off to sleep, a sleep that she was too tired to fight, she vainly hoped that she wouldn't have the dream again. She really hated having episodes and she'd managed to not have to bad of one here at the hospital for the last three years, she didn't want them knowing. She hated for anyone to know, especially House.