Week One – Morning After

There were few stranger places Allison Cameron had awoken than under the arm of Dr. House. Even when she'd wanted this more than anything else in the world, she had never been able to quite picture it. House did seem, after all, the kind of guy to run off in the night – okay, perhaps not run, but limp away.

Cameron supposed that the reason he hadn't was because this was his own home. There would be nowhere to escape to.

She looked over him and if she hadn't heard the words from Cuddy, she wouldn't believe that he was really sick. She still wanted to believe that maybe it was just a mistake, or maybe another weird plot of House's, faking cancer yet again and she'd somehow gotten drawn into it. She decided that she would much rather have been had yet again than have to cling to this as a reasonable chance for House's survival.

House's eyes were shut tightly, and he was sleeping in an awkward position. She moved slowly, not wanting to wake him – wondering just how much sleep he ever actually got, considering his leg. She cursed herself, wishing this desire to just… wrap her arms around House and protect him from the world would just go the way that it needed to. Why had she come back for Chase but found herself sleeping with House – noble reasons or not?

"House," Cameron whispered, nudging him gently. He didn't budge, and she worried for a moment that somehow, sleeping with her had either been so good or so bad that it had somehow killed him. But a few moments later she saw one blue eye slowly slip open, and then the other.

"Cameron?" House mumbled.

"Hey. How are you holding up?" Cameron inquired. She didn't know what to do. Should she cuddle him, make sure he's okay, ask for another go around, try and slip out now without saying another word? What was the protocol for sleeping with your – albeit former – boss?

"Good," House mumbled again. "Do we have to be anywhere?"

"No," Cameron replied, remembering that first of all, it was now a Saturday, and second of all… well, she had no idea if House was even coming back to work at PPTH, and she didn't really feel it was immediately appropriate to ask.

"Then I'm going back to sleep," House said, stealing more of the blanket.

"Me too," Cameron echoed quietly, and curled back up to House. This was certainly weird. This really wasn't normal.

But for right now, for this second at least… This was somehow okay.

"House… and Cameron?" Wilson raised an eyebrow and tried not to sound as jealous as he felt. "And you told Cameron this idea was absolutely insane, right?"

"Yes, I did… and she insisted on it anyway. And House… agreed. I don't know why. He's as crazy as she is," Cuddy replied, shaking her head.

"She knows the chances of a match are still less than a sibling match, and that even that isn't certain?" Wilson pressed.

"Yes, she does," Cuddy said again. She shrugged and slammed the drawer of her desk shut, trying to keep her emotions under control. All of this, at once, was just too much. And by the end of this week, work was supposed to begin with her house repairs. She didn't need all of this right now… Or maybe she did. Maybe each individual crisis was a welcome escape from the mounting multitude of other crises.

"But she's choosing to go with this ridiculous plan anyway, and if she does get pregnant she ends up having House's child and… what? Does she think House, with or without leukemia, is really up to raising a child?"

"Don't rant at me, Wilson," Cuddy retorted. "I know it's crazy. Cameron probably knows it's crazy, too. But I guess she just wants hope. She loves him… And don't you?" Wilson looked at her, unsure of what to say. What exactly did she mean? Love as in, as a friend – which he certainly did – or love in a more… romantic sense?

Which he was certain he might.

"So do you," Wilson said instead. He didn't want to go there, not now – not when House's life hung so precariously in the balance. He wanted to see House, wanted to smile at him and assure him that everything would be okay, even if he didn't believe those words himself. Even if he was as utterly lost as he had been ever since House had run off after driving his car into Cuddy's living room; even if he still kept walking past House's empty office and wishing he'd hear the gentle tap of a cane in there.

"I did," Cuddy replied simply. She walked out of the room before he could ask her if she still did.

"Cameron's back," Chase blurted out as he looked up from his chair at Foreman, who was again in the boss' spot, seemingly kind of like a child playing House – literally.

"She is?" Thirteen inquired, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

"For me, apparently."

"Can we get back to the case?" Foreman asked impatiently. "Twenty-six year old female, has had trouble walking and talking… No one can diagnose her." He gestured to the white board. "Chase, do you have something to add, or should we keep discussing your old girlfriend?"

"Ex-wife," Chase corrected, a flush of anger flying to his cheek. "And I wasn't hogging the conversation, I was just saying…" He threw his hand up. "Auto-immune."

"Seems probable," Foreman replied, and wrote "auto-immune?" on the whiteboard.

"Could be a parasite," Taub suggested. He looked over at Chase. "Is she back for you, or for House?"

"Given that House isn't here and is in some… somewhere, probably hiding out in Mexico, I'd say not," Chase retorted.

"Actually, House is back," Foreman corrected. "He was in the hospital a few days last week. Surprised you didn't notice, since your nose is usually affixed to his, shall we say, posterior…"

"Oh, shove it, Foreman," Chase snapped, standing up.

"What a proactive step, Dr. Chase," Foreman said. "Get her started on meds for the parasites."