Esuedros: I'll get more into Rebecca later. Cameron has a lot of trust for Remy. Thanks for reviewing!
Robert: Rebecca thanks you for not hating her. Ha. However, hate Chase all you want. Things aren't over with Chase.
Nameless: Kutner is...Kutner. Where would the fun be if he had a muzzle? Rebecca is around to stay.
Melissa: That's okay. Chase deserves it right now. Don't be late for class on account of SF!
Miralinda: Ah...but they did kiss. -smile-
JB: Don't choke! I don't provide insurance! Ooh...Snow + Cadley? Well, it was meant to be Wilson, Remy, Cam, and Kutner. Which is what I really did intend...but Kutner has a big mouth. I got to that scene and was all, "wait...how did all these people get here again?!"
Pink: Hm...I was trying to make Rebecca as unjealous as possible. Guess I wasn't clear enough with that. But...she'll be around again soon, so I'll fix it up.
Amazon: Ha. I'll make sure to have Wilson invite you to the next party! Ah...Katy Perry licking JMo...Like I said...catching me online hyped up on caffeine at odd hours in the morning is equiv to catching me drunk. xD
Final: ...-slowly pushes Chase out of the way- Easy now. xD
Glaukopis: Cam will slowly get back to normal.
Eva: No more snow, unfortunately. But break starts soon!
Ilive: Well, Rebecca really isn't meant to cause trouble. Glad you liked the party scene.
Bigblusky: Glad you're enjoying it!
Ilessthree: ...as you read this review reply, remember you should probably be studying. xD Tho...I support your procrastination and SF reading!
Anonymous: Glad you like Rebecca and Kutner! I thought about inviting Chase. I felt bad he was probably home alone eating icecream and watching chick-flicks. -wink-
Kirei: I'm more like, "break! break! break!" ...Eventually Chase may start thinking. ...or not.
Floating (chpt. 27): Thanks fore reviewing! Glad you're enjoying it!
Charmed: Ruining moments is House's specialty. Ha.
Lessthan13: Hm. Eating homework. Well...sounds better than actually doing it. I had 2 snow days...which explains my fast updates. And I knew what you meant...but more reviews make me look more popular so thanks for fixing it. xDDDD
Enigmatic: Thanks for reviewing!

Cameron's POV:

"Remy, get up," you hiss, grabbing a pillow off the bed and smacking her with it. The clock reads 4am, meaning the two of you only got about two hours of sleep, but your pager is going off repeatedly.

"You're out of your mind," she grumbles, rolling onto her stomach and pulling her pillow over her head. "Come back to bed." She fumbles for the end of the comforter then yanks it up over her head and the pillow.

"I have to go, Remy," you reply, pulling off your pajama pants. You kneel down on the cold floor beside your suitcase and dig through your clothes for a pair of scrubs. "Do you have any idea how many drunk idiots end up nearly dead in the ER on New Years?"

"What am I supposed to do at the hospital until nine?" she murmurs, slowly pushing the blanket back down as your pager begins beeping again. She sighs and throws her pillow to the side, accidentally hitting you in the head with it.

When the pillow hits you, you drop your scrub pants. Scowling, you throw it back at her then try to peer through the darkness until you find them again. "I don't know," you answer, standing and yanking your pants on before pulling off your shirt. "You could sleep in the lounge." You glance to the side as she sits up then kneel down and grab your shirt. "Or you could be productive and help in the ER." Wrestling your shirt over your head, you walk over to the lights and flip them on.

She groans and covers her eyes with her hands, bending her knees so she can rest her elbows on her legs. "House never even calls me in this early," she informs you in a voice hoarse from sleep.

"That's because House would rather let his patients die than sacrifice his time," you answer, frowning. Her throaty voice is rather attractive and keeps you from being too aggravated with her. You turn to the dresser and grab a hair-tie that probably belongs to her then quickly pull your hair into a messy bun. "Are you coming or do I have to get Batman?"

"I'm getting there," she answers, lifting her head slightly. Her half-lidded eyes follow you for a moment as you cross the room again to grab your pager off the nightstand. "Statistics show that drivers who are over-tired are just as dangerous as those who have had too much alcohol," she tries.

"I'll make you coffee then," you answer nonchalantly, refusing to believe she's as tired as she's making herself out to be. No doubt House has kept her at the hospital overnight before or she's gone into work after a late night of partying. "Ten minutes and then we're leaving." You hold up all ten of your fingers at her as you walk backward out of the room to go make coffee.

From the living room, you smirk as you hear her groan and slam one of her dresser drawers shut.

-----

It's always when you first walk into the ER that you miss being on House's team the most. The mad rush of moving stretchers, panicking patients, and arguing nurses can still get overwhelming. The doctors are always trying to be in multiple places at once because of the shortage of help. Even bad days in the ER don't look like this though.

"Greyhound swerved to miss a car as it slammed on its breaks," a nurse says, approaching you while holding a clipboard. She doesn't bother to glance up, focused on scribbling away on one of the charts. "Driver of the car is going to have one hell of a headache from all the alcohol he consumed, but other than that, he's fine. The bus on the other hand, went through the guardrail and flipped onto its side."

"How can I help?" Remy asks you, glancing around with wide eyes as doctors begin to treat patients right in the main area because all of the curtained areas are full.

Puffing out your cheeks as you let out a deep breath through your mouth, you try to think of something that's only going to require one hand. "My stethoscope is in my office," you answer, glancing back at her. "Find where there's a shortage of nurses and start checking hearts and lungs."

You walk over to the nurses' station and grab one of the clipboards and a pen then make your way over to one of the curtains that doesn't seem to have any doctors around it. "I'm Dr. Cameron," you introduce yourself as you pull the curtain back far enough so you can get past it. "Has anyone been in here yet?"

"Ah, Dr. Cameron," the woman on the bed replies, the corners of her lips tugging upward into a slight smile. "Head of the ER. Doctor everyone has been looking for. I'm Laura Asher."

You glance at her and smile then nod once. "Nice to meet you, Laura," you answer before looking around to see if anyone made a chart for her.

"There was another doctor in here earlier," she tells you, pointing to where the doctor placed the chart. "Apparently my ankle might be broken, but we're okay. The doctor told me he'd be back when he got the chance. That was about forty minutes ago." She pauses. "Not that we're complaining."

"We?" you confirm, grabbing the chart before looking over at her again. You glance around for another person then tilt your head in confusion.

"Oh, come on," she laughs, running her fingers through her short, blond hair. "You haven't noticed what a hippo I am?" She pats her protruding stomach and raises her eyebrows.

You freeze for a moment then force a smile and glance down at her chart, reading it over. "Well, I didn't even notice you're pregnant so-"

"You're very sweet," she cuts you off, trying to settle back against the hospital bed. "This is my fourth one though. I've come to terms with getting fat."

"That's a lot of kids," you reply quietly, trying not to get distracted with your own thoughts about pregnancy. "It says they gave you an anesthetic to numb the pain, but they haven't taken x-rays yet," you think out loud as you continue to read. "I'll get you up to radiation to see what they say since you're pregnant. If it's possible you don't need any x-rays, we can cast your ankle and then you can wait for your family. Were your husband or kids in the crash?" You attach the papers to the clipboard then hang it at the bottom of the bed.

"No; thank God," she replies, turning her head to look at you as you walk behind the bed and undo the breaks. "This place seems enough of a madhouse without three, screaming, little girls or a panicking husband. They're on their way though. They're probably about two hours from here. Do you have kids?"

"No," you answer, giving her a moment to turn around and lean back against the bed again before you begin pushing it. You glance around for Remy. She could manage to push a bed to x-ray, but you don't see her anywhere. Clearing your throat uncomfortably, you keep an eye on those around you to make sure you don't collide with anyone. "Do you-"

"That's surprising," she says, not giving you time to finish your question. "You have that motherly glow to you. Are you pregnant?"

"No," you repeat in an even quieter tone, realizing you're gripping the bed tight enough that your knuckles are turning white. You're about to walk out of the ER when Remy catches your eye. "Dr. Hadley!" you call to her instantly, motioning her over.

With the ER in the midst of chaos, Remy looks rather frazzled until she hears your voice. She jumps back to avoid getting hit by a stretcher then walks hastily over to you. "Please tell me you have something else for me to do," she says slightly irritably, crossing her arms tightly across her bloodstained scrub shirt.

"Take Mrs. Asher here to radiation and see what they say about x-raying her ankle," you reply. You smirk and shake your head. "After that, get some rest in the lounge. You're more harm than good with your crippled hand."

Huffing almost inaudibly, Remy takes your place behind the hospital bed and pushes the woman out of the ER and toward x-ray.

-----

By noon, you're ready to collapse. After getting the bus patients taken care of, the ER is still full from various other accidents caused by either too much alcohol or too little sleep. You finish placing a bandage over yet more stitches on someone then pull your gloves off and toss them in the trash. "You're good to go," you assure the man, rubbing your arm along your forehead to brush some loose strands of hair away from your eyes.

"You should take a break, Dr. Cameron," one of the nurses says, taking the man's chart from the bottom of the bed. "Things are under control for now."

Stifling a yawn, you nod your head, knowing you need to take a few moments to rest before attempting to fix anyone else. Not only are you exhausted, but your rumbling stomach is reminding you it's time to pay a visit to Wilson's office. Over the past few hours, you've been thinking though, and you're not exactly thrilled to talk to him at the moment.

"I'll be back," you tell the nurse, much to her frown and shake of the head at that. Even though you've already been working for nearly eight hours, you can't leave until Remy is ready to leave. You might as well make yourself productive in the ER while waiting for her to be finished working.

You changed scrubs once already and are slightly unsatisfied to find no blood stains on the ones you're currently wearing, meaning you don't have to stop at the locker room before going to Wilson's office. You keep glancing down at your clothes, looking for a reason to stall and take longer. Lost in thought as you walk and take the elevator, you find yourself in front of his door in what seems like a matter of seconds.

Wilson glances up from something that he's writing and furrows his brow at your disheveled appearance. "New Years in the ER," he confirms to himself before reaching down and picking up a paper bag. "Here for lunch?"

Hunger causes you to stare at the bag for a moment and you bring your hand to your mouth, biting down nervously on your pinky nail. "I need a consult," you reply after a few seconds, glancing over at him.

"For one of your patients in the ER?" he asks, getting to his feet. He steps to the side and pushes his chair in then walks over to you.

You hesitate and rock back on your heels, still chewing on your fingernail. "For myself," you reply, refusing to look at him. "I know you're an oncologist, but…" You let your voice trail off as you try to find the right words. "I trust you. I don't want anyone to find out."

"What do you need?" he asks, his eyebrows still drawn together in concern when you glance up at him again.

"I need a blood test," you answer, your voice so low that it's barely above a whisper. You lower your hand from your mouth and begin rubbing your fingers up and down your arm. One glance toward your lunch again lets you know that you've managed to get nervous enough that you're no longer hungry. "I need to make sure I'm not pregnant." The word tastes bitter as you say it and you swallow hard then bite down on your lower lip.

"It's still soon for a blood test, isn't it?" he replies. If he realizes in order for no one to know, he's going to have to forge a name on the test, he doesn't seem bothered by it. "You could get a false negative. If you think you're-"

"I just need to do it," you reply, giving him a pleading look. "Please," you whisper.

He pauses and stares at you for a moment then nods his head. "Alright," he replies. "Don't think this gets you out of having lunch with me though." He motions you out of the room.

You manage a small smile at him then stare down at the floor as you walk. In attempt to ignore how shaky your hands are, you cross your arms tightly across your chest. "Thank you for this," you say quietly, letting him lead you to an empty room.

He shuts the door behind the two of you then begins going through a drawer with needles in it.

Letting out a deep breath, you uncross your arms and sit down on the bed. "I hate needles," you whisper, mainly to yourself. It's a lot different getting them than giving them and it seems even worse with your nerves the way they are right now.

"Who doesn't?" Wilson replies. He sits down on a stool with wheels and scoots over to beside the bed. "It will only take a second." He ties the band around your arm then begins opening the disinfectant packet.

"I know." You've used that line more times than you can count. It only takes a second for the person giving the needle. For the person getting it, it takes much longer. When you feel his hand on you and the cool, wet disinfectant wipe cleaning the crook of your arm, you clamp your eyes shut.

"Cameron, are you sure you want to do this now?" he asks when your discomfort becomes apparent. "If you wait a few days, the chance you'll have to do it again won't be as-"

"I want to do it now," you confirm, trying to ignore the bitter taste in your mouth and the queasiness in your stomach. Tears begin to well up in your eyes and you hold them back, ignoring the urge to start crying for Remy. The needles slides under your skin and you grip the sheet on the bed, occasionally murmuring weak 'ouches'.

"You know Thirteen is probably going to see this, right?" Wilson asks, sliding the needle back out and capping the tube. He presses gauze to your arm and bandages it in place before untying the band and tossing it on the desk.

You nod and wipe at your eyes, jumping but then relaxing as he places his hand on your mid-back. "I'll tell her I accidentally stabbed myself with my own needle or something," you mutter, doubting she'd even believe that.

He lets his hand rest on your back until you open your eyes again and start to feel slightly calmer. "Charles in the lab owes me a favor," he says. "I'll tell him it's for one of your patients and you'll pick it up before you leave."

"Thanks." You feel guilty about lying, but there's no need for the entire hospital to find out. Not wanting to think about it anymore, you try to shove all of your feelings into a box and lock them away. "How about lunch now?"

"Lunch sounds great," Wilson answers, helping you up.

-----

"Are you ready to go?" Remy asks, appearing in the ER around six. The dark circles under her eyes make it obvious she didn't have as much time to catch up on sleep in the lounge as you did.

"Yes." You nod your head and shove a few papers onto the desk at the nurses station then tug at the sleeve of her hoodie you're wearing. Needing comfort and a better way to hide where you had blood taken, you had asked for her locker key right after lunch. "You look exhausted," you comment, walking over to her and letting your hand rest on her lower back.

"I wonder why," she deadpans, walking with you as you start toward the car. "Do you have everything you need?"

"Yeah." You nod slowly. The lab results for your blood had gotten done an hour ago and you picked them up then hid the paper in your pocket without looking at it. You inch closer to her when she slides an arm around your waist once you're outside, trying to subtly soak in as much comfort as you can. "Let's go home and get some sleep."

-----

You can feel the weight of the paper from inside your pocket, practically burning a hole in your jeans and in your mind. Glancing down at Remy, you realize she's asleep with her head on your lap. You were waiting for her to drift off, needing to be by yourself when you read the results. Careful not to wake her, you slowly slide yourself out from under her and get to your feet. You grab a blanket off the back of the couch and cover her up then silently make your way back to the bedroom.

Trying desperately to hold back tears and keep your vision clear, you pull the envelope from your pocket and unfold it then open it. Your hands are all but steady as you slowly unfold the paper. For a moment you squeeze your eyes shut, terrified to look. Standing there hiding from it isn't going to get you anywhere though. Taking in a deep breath, you slowly open your eyes again and squint through your tears.

Traces of hCG.

You slowly crumple the paper and sink to your knees beside the bed.

Note: I realize y'all may have mixed feelings, but just...Trust me on this.