Okay, I'm almost at the climax of the story!!! Get ready!!! Hehehe Steph

Thanks for others for sticking with me and the reviews.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

House put the key in the keyhole and turned the knob. Hearing it click, he pushed in on it. He took a few steps in the room and would have punched Jerry in the stomach with his elbow if the gun wasn't starting to pain his back from being jammed between his shoulders.

"Cameron?!" House shouted as he looked around the living room.

He looked around the room in horrified expectation of seeing her dead, lying on the floor in a puddle of blood, her eyes staring at him as if saying, 'Where were you, House? Why didn't you come to help me? It's your fault I'm dead.' He pushed the picture out of his head and waited to hear her voice.

There was none.

House rushed to his bedroom as fast as a cripple could.

"Cameron?!! Answer me, damnit," he shouted in desperation.

He stood at the foot of his empty bed – the sheets and blankets were all twisted as if a person tossed and turned all night and the blankets ended up knotted around their body – bed and looked to the right, where the bathroom was. No Cameron. A picture of Cameron lying dead in the tub crossed his mind and his body shook. He then looked to the left, at the wall. And on the floor he saw…a foot, with a leg in a cast.

"Oh, shhhh, Cameron!"

House rushed to her and knelt down on his left leg. She was lying on the floor, leaning up against the wall. Her head was tilted to the right and she was quiet and motionless. He looked for blood but there was none. He pressed his finger on the vein in her neck and was relieved when he felt it jump against his skin in a steady beat.

"Oh, don't worry, she's fine. She is a feisty little thing, though," Jerry said from the doorway, his arms crossed across his chest and holding the gun. It was pointed up in the air but of easy access for aiming and shooting.

"What the hell did you do to her?!" House asked as he stood, turned and faced Jerry.

"We had a little fight'," he said.

Cameron moaned a little and tried to move her head, groaning louder as she did.

"Don't…don't move. Can you move?" he asked, not even realizing what he'd actually said.

She didn't respond but kept groaning under her breath, her mouth partly open. He grabbed her around her waist and tried to pull her up but she was dead weight, figuratively speaking.

"Cameron, I need you to help me get you up. Come on, you can do this. I've got you…just…"

He suddenly felt her push herself up a bit, although her eyes were still closed. She became a little lighter and he was able to put his weight on his left leg and lift her up. He only had a few steps to the bed where he wanted to put her. He had all his weight on his one leg and he was not looking forward to putting the extra weight on his injured leg.

She was limp in his arm as he held his breath and took the step. He grunted under his breath but didn't let go of her. A few steps later he was able to 'throw' her on the bed. He sat on the bed beside her, relieved he had made it without dropping her.

"Wow, I'm impressed. For a cripple you did good gettin' her on the bed," Jerry mocked.

House looked at him and only said, "Well, it's '…you did well…' Debra is right, you are a moron."

He turned his attention back to Cameron by pushing the lamp shade up so that light would shine on her face. He leaned in, held his breath and lifted her eye lids to check her pupils, which were fine, much to his relief.

" Cam…Cameron…talk to me," House said, his voice choking. "Open your eyes, girl. Come on."

"Oh, isn't that touching," Jerry said meanly. "She's just knocked out; she'll be fine, for now. Besides, I don't want her. I wanted Debra, and you."

House's eyebrows curled under. "What do you mean, 'wanted Debra?'"

"Well, let's just say she got what she deserved."

House's blood boiled. He stood up, his face contorting in pain but he made it to Jerry, standing in front of him.

"If you did anything to Debra, you are dead."

"Your threats don't scare me, cripple," he said with an evil laugh.

House knew he had no chance against this madman. He could only hope Wilson would come around after kissing the butt of the gun.

He prayed to no one in particular. First the first time in his life, he prayed.

Actually, it was the second time. And it didn't work that time, either.

So why was he bothering now?

HOUSE M.D. HOUSE M.D. HOUSE M.D.

Back at PPTH, a nurse rushed in with the crash cart while Foreman lowered the bed and pulled her chin up and back to start intubating her.

"Get Brenda! She gave her some…"

"Stop…stop it…hold on a second," Debra said with a little laugh then grew serious.

"What the…" Foreman started to say.

"Get me up, doctor…" She looked at his name tag. "…Foreman. I'm fine."

"Debra, what did you do?"

"Where's Greg?"

"I saw him and Dr. Wilson leave about thirty minutes ago. Think they were going to check on Cameron at his place. Why?"

"Oh, shlt! We've got to go! We've got to go to Greg's! He's in trouble!!"

"Then we should call the cops," Foreman told her.

"No, no way. There's something I need to do."

"What? You're not in the best shape…"

"You got a car?" she asked as she sat up and walked to the closet where her suitcase was to get clean clothes.

Foreman nodded his head then said, "But you are not going anywhere,"

"Oh, shut up and help me! I'll explain on the way."

HOUSE M.D. HOUSE M.D. HOUSE M.D.

On the street, in a car half a block from 221 Baker Street, was Wilson. He was just coming around from the assault on his head and his head throbbed. He reached up and rubbed his temple then looked at his fingertips at the blood. There wasn't much but it was enough. His head spinned and he had trouble focusing his eyes.

He wasn't ready to go anywhere. He just had to wait a little bit of time before he leave the car and help House, if he were still alive.