CHAPTER SIXTEEN

House arrived in Trenton in the late afternoon that Saturday and decided to head to PPTH to check on Cameron. He figured it would be a good time because neither Chase nor Foreman would be there. The sun was just setting and for the first time in a long while he actually noticed how seductive the orange, red and yellow sky was against the setting sun on the horizon.

But words alluded him at the moment. What would he say to her about his letter? Would he deny he even wrote it? He sighed heavily and walked into her room, hoping she'd be asleep. She wasn't.

"House," Cameron said softly. "It's good to … hmmmph … ow…"

"Cameron, what is it? What hurts?" House asked worried as he approached the bed.

"My chest … head … but they're … okay. I'm still sore. Wilson told me you w … ent to see your dad. Is he okay?"

"Never mind about my dad. I see you've gotten your leg fixed," he said as he shifted his weight nervously. "Did they use bionic parts?"

"Yeah, they're putting me back together," she whispered as she closed her eyes and groaned softly.

"Do you need something for the pain?"

Cameron could only nod her head so House went to the nurse's station to ask for the key to up the morphine drip. When he returned he allowed the medication to flow through the tube into her left arm and pulled the chair up beside the bed.

"There, that should make a big difference," he said then tried to force a smile, but his face expressed more pity and concern than pretending she didn't look worse shape than she actually was.

"Gee, thanks. Do I look that bad, Greg?" she muttered as she tried to keep her eyes open.

Greg … she used his first name. The past three years she had never used his first name. For that matter, he had never used her first name, either. That could only mean one thing – she was still mistaken over the relationship between them.

"No, of course not. Now shut up and go to sleep." He wasn't concerned with her getting the rest her body needed to recover from her wounds. He wanted her to fall asleep so he wouldn't have to tell her that they were not in a romantic relationship.

"I … don't … wanna …" Cameron didn't even finish her sentence before her voice trailed off and she was finally asleep.

House leaned forward and stroked her cheek softly. "Pull through this, Cameron."

Even though it was just before midnight, House needed to talk to get things off his chest. He didn't really want to talk to Wilson, but of the limited number of people he knew, Wilson had the most logical approach to any situation. Besides, Wilson was used to House getting in predicaments and should be able to help him out. But this one was different. He just had no idea what he was going to do.

House asked for the room number of James Wilson at the check-in counter at Residence Inn, the hotel where he'd been staying since he left Grace's place before she left for Greece. He then headed for the elevator, setting the six pack of Heinekin on the railing for the three-floor trip.

"House! It's 12:30! What are you doing here so late?" Wilson exclaimed when he saw House standing at the door holding the beer.

"It's St Patrick's Day," House answered then tried to walk through the threshold but Wilson didn't move out of his way. "Nice jammies. I thought you slept in Spiderman one-sies."

The strange thing was Wilson was wearing sweats and a t-shirt, by no means strange or girly, definitely not enough for a snide comment from House.

"St. Patrick's Day is over, House, so go home," Wilson said irritated.

"Why? You don't have church tomorrow … or is that Synagogue?" House asked as he finally pushed his way into the room.

He set the beer on the table, pulled out one of the chairs and sat down then propped his feet up on the second chair. He turned to see Wilson still standing at the door, looking at House as if he were projecting lasers at him right between his eyes.

"I really think you should turn on the lights in here 'cuz it's kinda dark and I might just be tempted to grab your ass in the dark …" House started to say but Wilson ignored him then walked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

"Guess I'll just have to do it myself," he said out loud as he reached for the lamp over the table and turned it on.

He grabbed a beer, popped the cap then grabbed another, doing the same. House heard the toilet flush and held out the beer for Wilson so when he came out it would be all ready for him.

"Sorry it's not green. But you're not Irish anyway so it really doesn't make a difference, does it?" House said as Wilson walked out, took the beer completely unappreciatively and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Okay, so tell me why you're here," Wilson said as he took a sip then set the bottle on the night stand.

"You said the other day she did read the letter. What else did she say?"

"Actually, she only saw the letter. She just saw, 'To Cameron – please when you come to your senses.'"

"What do you mean? She didn't read it, then?"

Wilson shook his head. "She found the letter in the drawer, yes, but hadn't opened it. When I went to see her after her leg surgery I saw it under the blanket, under her hand and took it."

"Why in the hell didn't you tell me that when we talked on the phone? Well, let me have it."

"Uh, I don't have it anymore."

"It's at your office?"

"Not exactly," Wilson answered, definitely avoiding telling House where it was.

"Okay, where exactly is it?" House asked as he threw the first empty bottle in the trash can and opened another one. House stared Wilson down as he took a long sip, narrowed his eyes and tried to look as threatening as he could; he was getting tired of Wilson skirting the issue.

"Well," Wilson whined. "Chase has it."

House was in the middle of another sip when he heard those words and almost choked.

"Oh, damnit."