Chapter 2

He walked into the diagnostics room to see Chase sitting alone, still doing the crossword.

"What, no work?"

"Waiting on test results, but it doesn't look like a virus."

"So, why aren't you researching other possibilities?"

"Why aren't you?"

"I'm the big boss man, I get to slack, you don't. Where's Cameron?"

"Waiting for the patient's medical history to be faxed over."

"Why aren't you waiting with her?"

"She's as prickly as a porcupine today," he said, shrugging. House stared piercingly at him. "She told me to leave her alone, said I was irritating her."

House nodded, opening the Vicodin and taking one. "Send her through to me when she comes in."

III

House was listening to his iPod when Cameron walked in a few hours later.

"Well well, extreme makeover chick is back," he said. "Didn't happen to get a boob job over the weekend too, did ya?"

"Don't need one." She surprised herself with how easily that slipped out.

"That's a matter of opinion."

She threw the patient file on his desk. "He has Relapsing Polychondritis."

"He does?"

"I reviewed his medical history; it's the only thing to explain all his symptoms."

"What about Polyarteritis Nodosa or Reiter's Syndrome or Cogan Syndrome."

"I'm the immunologist."

House smiled coldly. "But there's no test for Relapsing Polychondritis, how can you be sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Well, OK then. I'll trust you, after what you did to Forman. Refer him to a Rheumatologist then bring me the forms to sign off on him."

"I will." She turned to leave.

"Wait." She stopped but didn't turn around. "Look at me." Slowly she turned to face him. He walked over to her. "You aren't calling the shots any more, that's my job." His tone was icy.

"You're invading my personal space," she told him. "Back off."

"Yeah, I'm scared. You gonna sue me?" Cameron tried her hardest to look impassive. "Now, give me the file, then go wipe the crap off your face, take your hair down and stop playing dress up. Mommy's clothes look ridiculous on you."

He held his hand out for the file and Cameron's brilliant scripted replies all deserted her. She handed him the file, then, willing herself not to go too fast, walked from his office.

House sat back behind his desk. "Say it," he told Chase who was now standing in the doorway connecting the rooms.

"OK, you're an arsehole. You know she's right."

"Do I? And when did you discover this gift for mind reading?"

"Right about the time you became a real jerk."

"That would be, as opposed to a wannabe jerk?"

Chase walked out. House would never admit he was wrong.

III

Cameron locked herself in the stall and let her tears flow. If anything, her cunning plan had made him hate her more and made her life harder. She'd been hoping to impress him with her diagnosis, which was correct - she'd stake her career on that - but he'd had to undermine her once again.

She didn't know how long she'd been in there when he spoke.

"You do know mean girls don't cry, don't you?" he said softly. "Well, it's "big girls" really, but I thought that might sound insulting."

Cameron sat up and dried her eyes. Trying to keep her voice normal she said, "This is the ladies' room, House."

"It is?"

"Please, leave me alone."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't."

"So your abuse is pathological now?"

She heard him sigh.

Steeling herself, she stood up and opened the door, praying she didn't look awful or have puffy eyes or something. Her arms crossed across her body, she walked over to him, by the sinks.

"I shouldn't have said those things," he told her, looking deeply into her eyes.

She shook her head.

"Hey, I'm trying to apologise here."

"No, you're not. You said you shouldn't have done something. Well there's a lot of things you shouldn't have done, and probably not one of them that you're sorry about."

"I am sorry if I hurt you."

"You know you hurt me, you meant to."

"I know."

Cameron looked into his eyes as though trying to see some truth there.

"You forgave Foreman. Or do I have to be dying before you forgive me, too?" he asked, teasingly.

Finally Cameron broke into a small smile. "No."

They stared into each other's eyes for a few moments, Cameron wondering why she forgave everyone, but especially House, so easily, House knowing he was on dangerous ground and needed to leave soon.

"So," he said, moving away slightly, "What's with the new getup?"

"What? You're always telling me to toughen up, live in the real world."

"Yeah, but I don't mean it." He reached behind her and began removing the clips from her hair. Cameron hissed as he pulled too hard on one clip.

"Oww!"

"Quit whining." He told her before continuing. "You're you, that's who you need to be."

"Why?"

"You act as my conscience, keep me on the straight and narrow."

"Yeah, like you listen to anything I say." He'd removed all the pins now and began rearranging her hair to the way she usually wore it.

"I listen." Having styled her hair to his satisfaction, he stopped. "Good as new." He told her but his hands lingered there for a moment longer than they should have. "And for what it's worth, you were right about the patient".

"I don't care about him." She paused. "I did what he asked, you know. I didn't go behind his back and wait for the coma to do the biopsy. He wanted me to do it. I waited as long as I thought I could."

"I know."

"Then why do I feel so awful?"

"Because you care."

"Do you blame me?"

"No."

"Then why have you been punishing me, pushing me away?"

"Because that's what I do."

"You feel guilty too. If you hadn't sent him to that apartment he'd never have become sick."

"Someone had to go."

Cameron was about to reply when the bathroom door opened.

House looked over and stepped back from Cameron. "I wrote "out of order" on the door," he said to the middle-aged woman there.

"Yeah, but it also says "Ladies" and I'm desperate."

"So you'd use a toilet that doesn't work?"

"Right now I'd use a bucket," she said, heading for a stall.

"Janitors' closet is next door," he told her as she locked herself in.

"Come on," said Cameron, heading towards the door.