Week Fifteen: Needs

"We need to talk," Cameron told House, before he had a chance to tell her otherwise. She had appeared at his apartment, hands on her hips, with a tone of voice that didn't accept "no" as a potential answer. House reminded himself that pregnant women had been known to do crazy things like lift up cars, and he didn't really want Cameron to pick up a car and throw it at his head.

"Sure," he said matter-of-factly, "Let's talk, then. Can I get my clothes on first?"

"No," Cameron said, then smiled blandly. It was a bad joke, and she knew it, but House simply backed up in response to let her get into the apartment. "It's been months, and we haven't actually sat down and really talked about why we're doing this."

"What you mean to say," House countered, "Is why you're doing it. I don't recall being given a whole lot of choice in the matter. This is your plan, and it's a crazy plan, and I'm all for crazy plans… But I don't think this is going to work out, Cameron. Thank you and please play again."

"That's it. You don't even want there to be any kind of hope. Is that it? You'd rather just roll over and die?"

"You'd rather read into everything I've said? Why do I even bother saying anything at all when I can get the Cliff Notes on what I actually said from you?"

House threw his hands up in the air and hobbled over to retrieve his cane from the corner of the room.

"Where are you going?" Cameron barked.

"Somewhere there's a bomb shelter," House replied. "I think little Katie is going to go kaboom." He looked at her.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Would it be completely out of line to ask you to take something seriously for once in your life? I mean, you're dying, and you don't even take that seriously. If you don't take life and death seriously… then how the hell am I supposed to get through to you? I mean, that's all there is, when you boil down to it."

"Unless you listen to Chase," House fired back, "He thought there was a lot more out there. God and all of that."

"I think it's just life and death," Cameron reiterated, "And if you waste it, then it's gone. And you're gone."

"Then why care about anything?" House shot back, "If there's no one to care and no one to impress, why not just walk on out? Face the final curtain as said the Chairman…"

"Mao?" Cameron interrupted.

"Of the Board," House replied, rolling his eyes, "But if we're going to talk, then let's talk. My clock is ticking, as it were, and I don't have all day."

"Well, so's mine," Cameron said, "And if we don't work this out, I may just have to hit you up on child support for being the stubborn ass that you love to prove yourself to be."

"You would sue a man with leukemia for child support? That's not the Cameron we know and love."

"No, that's the Cameron you have royally pissed off recently. What more can I do to try and help you, House? I've given up everything that was important to me for you."

"No, you gave up everything for yourself. You can't be happy unless you're a martyr."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"You left Chase because of the whole 'dead dictator' debacle, because if you were okay with that, that meant you weren't a regular Mother Theresa. You weren't what you saw when you looked in the mirror, or what you wanted to see, rather."

Cameron snorted at him.

"And you are? Did you dream of growing up to be… you? Or were you always you, even before the leg? Maybe even before you were born?"

"Yeah," House retorted, "Maybe I was formed bitter in my mother's womb. Maybe it's genetic. I suppose we'll find out. Or you will, if you decide to raise this kid instead of using it for spare parts and then discarding it."

Cameron looked at him, horrified, her mouth hanging slightly open.

"That's the worst thing I've ever heard you say."

"You should spend more time around me, then."

Cameron let out a long, frustrated gasp and sat down.

"It's exhausting, dealing with you. Listen to you. All you do is grouse and complain."

"Was there a point here or are we just having an airing of grievances? I didn't realize that today was Festivus."

"I need you to step up. There's some things you have to do. I can't do this all alone, okay? It's too much."

"Step up and do what, Cameron? This kid hasn't even been born yet. I'm all up for changing diapers and babysitting when it's born… if I'm actually alive, that is. Wouldn't that be the kicker? If I kick off before then? That would put a spanner in your plan, wouldn't it?"

Cameron kicked his cane, and House stumbled back, steadying himself on the dresser.

"You're a real dick, you know that, right?"

"This isn't the first time that I've heard those words… Not even the first coming from you. You think that I'd change my tune just because I'm dying?"

"Well, you were the one who said dying changes everything."

"Did I?" House asked, and then he shrugged. "For you, babies change everything, I guess. Nice cute wiggly babies with their lifesaving, life-changing powers. Maybe ours will come out already with an itty bitty cane. No, you'd want yours to be sunshine and rainbows, blonde hair and a bright smile, right, Cameron? Go home." He turned to walk back to his bed. "You're out of your league yet again."

"And what league is that?" Cameron fired back, "The league of misanthropic idiots?" But the words fell hollow, and she turned to leave, wondering whether she was in over her head or whether maybe she had already drowned.