Week Five: Wheels Keep Turning

One week passed into the next, and House was still left with no real idea of what to do. He could suggest, very firmly suggest, that Cameron get rid of it – maybe that would work. And someone could use the stem cells for science, to create a cure for something. Paralyzed people could walk again.

Then again, he would be dead by the time that happened, so what did he really care?

Or, better yet, he could just let Cameron do what she was going to do. Trying to talk sense to her had proven fruitless when he was her boss, what made him think it would be any more effective when she was his one-night-stand and now, (the thought made him wince) the father of her child?

House didn't do well with fathers; at least, he hadn't done well with his own (if he were even counting John House as his father, that was), and as far as he was aware, dysfunction had a clear tendency to be repeated ad nauseum throughout families. Why subject some kid to that? Sure, Cameron would probably be a halfway decent parent, but he didn't want to touch the subject with a ten-foot pole.

So, House decided as he lay back on his bed, staring out at the ceiling and considering, quite calmly, the fact that he would soon be dead (it was less anxiety to thing about that rather than the idea that there would be some parasite bearing his face), he decided he was not going to call Cameron.

But he might want to check his phone to see if she had called him again.

He fished out his phone and hit the "recent calls" button. He wasn't surprised to see that Wilson was there, three times in fact, and only slightly less surprised to see calls from both Cameron and Cuddy. Cuddy.

He didn't want to go there.

He still loved her. Would always love her, maybe, even if "always" didn't have all that long to go. Then again, if "always" was only a couple of months to a year, maybe that was far less pathetic than spending the next twenty years thinking about the one who'd gotten away.

After all, what good was any of it if he let it turn into another Stacy situation? Where he sat on his hands, refusing to connect, thinking about what could have been? Listening to Wilson tell him to move on already as he shook his head?

Maybe it had been better that he had smashed through every hope of reconciliation with Cuddy, shattered every last bit of false hope.

With reluctance, he hit the button to listen to his voicemail.

"House, it's Wilson. Well, you already knew that. Call me back."

"House, really. It's… oh, you already know who it is. Call me back."

"I'm starting to really want to give up on you. Call. Me. Back. Needless to say, this is Wilson."

"Hey House, this is Cuddy. We need to speak about your… treatment. And everything."

"House, it's Cameron. Just calling to see how you are. And where your head is at about all of this. I know it's all pretty sudden, trust me, it's sudden for me, too…"

House hit the "7" button.

"Message deleted."

Cameron had thought up a million ways that she could break the news to Chase, but none of them seemed any better than the one before it. She would have to figure out something to tell him, though, because he was standing in her apartment, on the stoop. She half-expected him to be holding flowers. Apology flowers. "Sorry I killed a man" flowers.

She supposed she could return the favor with "Sorry I'm pregnant by House" flowers.

"Hi, Chase," she murmured, opening her door further. "Come in."

When he was all the way in the door and it had shut, he put his hands at his sides and side.

"Listen, Allison… I really need to talk to you."

"Okay?" Cameron inquired. Maybe Chase would lead off with something so awful that her own comparison would seem miniscule in retrospect. She could always hope. Maybe he had slept with House, too – she curled up her nose at the unwanted mental image. That was one experience she really did not want to find out they had in common.

"I've been… thinking about you… your coming back. And I don't… I want to try. If we can try. I just don't know. Maybe it's been too long but I'm having… all kinds of feelings and… ugh, Allison, you know I don't really like talking about this sort of thing. But I want to give it a go if…"

That hadn't been what she had wanted to hear. Not at all. She was suffering until she cut him off and simply blurted it out.

"I'm pregnant. By House."

Cameron was pretty sure that she had actually literally heard a pin drop. Chase said nothing. She could say nothing else.

All she could follow it with was, "We aren't… together," like that made it any better.

She had thought Chase would turn and walk away, stalk off and never speak to her again, and that was better and worse than what he did, which was just stare, as if he was trying to look at something that always seemed to be just in the corner of his eye.

He moved, like he was floating, until he sat down on Cameron's bed. His head cocked slightly to the side, and he opened his eyes, then closed them. He did this a few times.

Cameron was finally able to speak.

"To try for a match. A bone marrow match."

Chase looked like he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"I planned it. But I didn't plan it. I didn't… I came back for you, Chase."

That was when he rose off the bed and walked towards the door.

"Where are you going?" she called, but all she heard was the door slam. She could tell that wherever he was going, he must not have even taken a second to look back.