Ghost From the Past (3?)
Rating: PG-13 (I think)
Word Count: 1,348
Disclaimer: I own House. Um, right. That was a lie. I don't own anything. Except season 1 & 2 on DVD and my own insanity.
Summary: In the middle of a case, a figure from Cameron's past arrives, creating complications and confusions in her life.
Author's Note: As I said, this is my first House fanfic. The characters may be very, very OOC. It is possible. I have no medical experience, therefore anything I write is probably very wrong. I have no beta, so all mistakes are mine. Some of this might be confusing. Hopefully, it will explain itself, even if not in this chapter...

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"They're late," House said, walking into the diagnostics room. Foreman looked up from the file on Elizabeth.

"What?"

"Chase and Cameron. Apparently they overslept," House said, walking to the board. He picked up the marker and underlined the first symptom twice. Foreman watched him. Fatigue.

"We were all on for over thirty hours," Foreman protested. "Are you saying you think Chase and Cameron are coming down with what Elizabeth has?"

"No, I'm saying they're late," House said, picking up his ball. He bounced it a few times before looking at Foreman. "You did drop them off at home, didn't you?"

"Yes," Foreman answered. House didn't need to know about Chase falling asleep on Cameron's couch. Or how Chase had taken care of Cameron. House really didn't need to know about that. It didn't change anything, and it would just be more for House to harass them with when they got here. Since House didn't seem to have any crazy ideas, he'd jump on any sort of distraction, like he was now.

"You're lying," House immediately accused. He pointed his cane at Foreman. "Why are you lying? I told you not to let them drive."

Foreman rolled his eyes. "Fine. Chase passed out on Cameron's couch."

"Passed out?" House pounced on the words.

"He fell asleep," Foreman corrected. He should have known that it would turn into a debate of semantics. This was House.

"You said he passed out." House was watching Foreman closely, wheels obviously turning in his brain.

"He fell asleep."

"You said he passed out," House repeated. "Now either he passed out or he fell asleep. Which one is it?"

Foreman sighed. "He passed out. He carried Cameron into her apartment, sat down on her couch. He got up to leave, got dizzy, and passed out. I checked him out before I left. He was fine, just in deep sleep. So was Cameron."

"Cameron fell asleep or did she pass out?" House demanded.

"She got in the car and fell asleep," Foreman said. "Chase couldn't wake her. That's why he carried her to her apartment. This isn't sleeping sickness. Chase and Cameron had less contact with the girl than her parents and uncle. The girl's parents aren't sick. Her uncle isn't sick. This isn't an epidemic."

"And yet Chase and Cameron present the first symptom of the girl's illness." House turned back to the board. "Fatigue. Headache. Fever. The headache and fever led us to the possibility of meningitis. Dead end. Get Chase and Cameron in here. We need to know they're not getting sick."

"They're not sick," Foreman muttered as he left the room.

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He was an idiot. A stupid, stupid idiot. How could he have done that? She was tired, upset, and vulnerable. How could he have taken advantage of her like that? Yeah, he'd done it when she was high on meth, but he had known that. He'd regretted it. He'd tried to pretend that that night had never happened, that he hadn't taken advantage of her. It wasn't true. She had asked him not to stop, not to be the good guy, but she was high. It was the drug talking. And he was just a man who thought with the little head instead of the big one.

He should go. He should go before she woke up because she would hate him for sure this time. He should call a taxi, go home, and get ready for work. It wouldn't be easy. His arm was underneath her, and she was nestled against him, her arm wrapped around his stomach. He pulled his arm out a little. She stirred, but didn't wake.

He rose and looked at her for a moment. She was beautiful when she was sleeping. She was content, relaxed, at peace, not tense like when she was awake. He'd joked about her having to schedule fun, but it was true. That was why she had taken the meth and called him. She wanted a night free from restraint, a night where she was not in control.

He continued to watch her. It would be wrong to say he knew her. He'd been intimate with her, but that intimacy was false. He didn't really know her. She had plenty of secrets, and so did he. He knew her body. It was something he couldn't seem to forget.

He took his clothes from the floor and put them on. He was about to leave when Cameron spoke in her sleep. "Joe."

Chase stopped. Joe? Why was she calling out for her husband's best friend? If Cameron's husband was dead, why had she been so afraid of Joe?

"No! No! He can't be dead. It's not possible. Please, he can't be dead; he can't," Cameron shouted, and then started sobbing.

Chase went to her side and gently woke her. "Shh, Cameron. It's okay. It's only a dream. You're okay. It's just a dream."

Cameron opened her eyes and looked at him. "Chase?"

"You were having a nightmare," he told her. She looked at him. Would she tell him about the dream? Would she yell at him, tell him to get out? Did she hate him for last night? Did he dare ask?

"It was my husband." Her voice was shaky. "I had nightmares before he died, nightmares of his death. He had cancer. But when he died… It wasn't like any of my dreams."

"I'm sorry," Chase said, feeling useless. "Cameron, you're under a lot of stress with this case. And seeing your husband's friend… You were bound to be reminded of your husband."

"Yeah," she whispered.

"Look," Chase began, "why don't you take a shower? You'll feel better. I'll make coffee, see if I can find something for you to eat."

She nodded. "Okay."

She rose and walked to the bathroom, locking the door. Chase looked at the door for a second, and then shook his head and went into the kitchen. He finished preparing the coffee she'd started to make earlier that morning and opened the refrigerator, looking for food. She hadn't been shopping in a while. There was nothing in the refrigerator. He opened the freezer. A couple of microwave meals, some frozen juice. Not much. Finally, his eyes caught sight of a loaf of bread. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. He put two pieces in the toaster.

Cameron came into the kitchen, dressed as she usually did for work. She moved past him to the coffee pot, and he was able to smell her shampoo, a soft, floral aroma that made him want to pull her into his arms.

He didn't. "You need to get some food."

"I've been too busy to shop," she said wearily.

"It's all right," he assured her. "I found some bread, and your breakfast is almost ready."

"Thank you."

"No problem. It's only toast."

"No, it's more than that—"

The doorbell interrupted her. Chase looked at the door, then Cameron. "It's probably Foreman."

"Yeah… Get it, will you?"

He nodded and went to the door, opening it. "You're not Foreman."

"No," Joe said with a small smile that faded quickly. "I came to talk to Allison. Please, Allison, they won't tell me anything."

Chase looked back at Cameron, who was frozen where she stood. "Joe…I'm sorry. I—I don't know anything more than I did last night. I… House sent me home to get some sleep."

Joe looked at Chase. Chase felt like he had been caught in the middle of something that he didn't understand. Why was Cameron acting so guilty? He cleared his throat. "House sent us all home. Foreman drove us. Cameron fell asleep on the way here, and I crashed on her couch. We can't tell you anything else until we get back to the hospital."

Cameron nodded a little too quickly. "Chase is right. We have to get back to the hospital."

She set down her coffee and started towards the door. Chase looked at her. "Uh, Cameron, neither of us has a car."

"Okay," Joe agreed. "I'll drive you to the hospital."