Chapter 7

The shrill phone ripped House from sleep the next morning. Eyes closed, he blindly felt around for his phone. He couldn't find it and eventually the ringing stopped. Moments later another phone rang. House found this one on his bedside table and turned it off.

"Morning."

House put his arm over his eyes to shield them from the glare as he took a peak at who had spoken. He had a sinking feeling that things had gotten a lot worse since last night.

He looked at the woman beside him and fragments came back to him.

"Hi," She was dressed and sitting on the side of his bed, looking remarkably put together for someone who'd been up so late. She handed him a mug of coffee.

"I'm glad you woke up, I was thinking I'd have to leave a note and I hate that."

"Yeah." House groped in his bedside draw for his Vicodin bottle, opened it and took two.

"What are they?"

"For my leg."

"Not for the heard of elephants rampaging through your brain?"

"Those too."

"Look, I have to run, I'm late but I enjoyed last night. I wouldn't mind doing it again. My numbers on your coffee table. Call me."

"Yeah."

She bent down and kissed him then left.

House rolled over and cursed into the pillow.

III

Cameron hung the phone up. She was sure he was OK, House was like a cat, 9 lives and always landed on his feet. But it did worry her that he didn't pick up. She assumed he was probably badly hung over.

"Look, he'll be here." Chase reassured her. "It's not like it's unusual for House to be late."

"The man has a point," Foreman agreed.

"I know. I just want to make sure."

III

House felt ready to face work, and more specifically, Cameron, a few yours later. The Vicodin had calmed the hangover and his guilt was firmly repressed under a layer of sarcastic indifference.

He pulled into his space in the underground parking lot, removed his helmet and detached his cane from the bike. He paused and took one final deep breath before heading into the hospital.

He didn't make it far as a pain tore through his head. For an instant he thought his hangover had returned and brought a few friends along with it, but as pain began flaring in other areas, he curled into the foetal position.

Each new pain was accompanied by a shout. Concentrating, House finally made out some of the words.

"Hurt!" pain in his leg. "Her!" his side burned. "You!" hip. "Lying!" leg. "Cheating!" leg. "Son!" hip. "Of!"

House felt himself grow tired and willingly gave into unconsciousness.

III

House awoke feeling surprisingly good, if tired. He opened his eyes to see Cameron smiling down at him.

He couldn't quite remember why, but he was sure Cameron shouldn't be smiling at him. Especially that sweet, innocent smile he'd only seen her use in private, when her guard was down. He wondered if he was dead and this was heaven. The way he felt, like he was floating, being dead wasn't such an outrageous idea.

"Hey, you're up. How are you feeling?"

House tried to reach out and stroke her hair. He loved her hair, so shiny and soft. Specifically, he loved it draped over his chest while they were in bed.

"Thirsty." He croaked.

"I'll get you some water." She was gone only moments, just to the end of his bed to fill the water glass. House tried to stay awake, to see her turn to him again with that sweet smile, but he couldn't. He was so tired. As his eyes drooped closed again he wondered if this was hell, not heaven. A hell where you only get a glimpse of happiness before it was snatched away.

III

The next time House awoke he was more lucid. He felt the floating sensation and no pain but this time recognised it as the effects of morphine. He took a few moments to look around. It was night, almost silent except for the faint footsteps of the nurses in the hallways.

He had a drip going into his hand, the morphine, but an examination of his other hand and his elbows showed bruising, meaning he'd had a lot of injections or drips. He wondered how long he'd been here.

Beside his bed on a portable cot, lay Cameron, sleeping soundly. He remembered now why he wasn't deserving of her smile, but he pushed that thought aside. Right now all he wanted to know was why he was here.

He remembered the fight with Cameron and went from there. There was the woman from the bar, the hangover from hell the next morning, he got ready, he remembered riding to work and parking… The rest was a blank until Cameron smiling face, asking him how he was feeling.

"Alison?" He called.

In a few seconds she was beside his bed, wiping the sleep from her eyes. "Hi, sleepy head." She took his hand.

"What am I doing here?"

"You were attacked, on your way into work."

House tried to remember but drew a blank. "How long have I been here?"

"Three days. How do you feel?"

House smiled. "I'm on morphine, I feel great!"

Cameron smiled too, then lightly smacked his upper arm. "Don't you ever scare me like that again!"

House smiled but his first twinge of pain turned it into a grimace. He raised his hand to his face to examine the area that hurt.

"You took a blow to the jaw, but just bruising, no serious damage." Cameron told him.

"I've been out for three days, what is the serious damage?"

Cameron swallowed. "You had a concussion, two cracked ribs, lots of bruising…"

"And"

"You were bleeding internally, they had to operate and take out your spleen."

House shrugged. "Eh, who needs a spleen."

Cameron smiled.

House was silent for a moment then he asked, "Hank?"

Cameron nodded. "I'm so sorry. Security caught the attack on CCTV and saved you before he did too much damage. He's been arrested and charged."

Instinct told house not to ask more at the moment. "I'm hungry, can you get me a rubin?"

"Cafeteria's closed, but I can probably rustle some soup up."

House groaned. "Oh god, you're going to be the nurse maid from hell, aren't you."

"What!"

"You'll have me right where you want me, incapacitated. You'll be feeding me things that are good for me, and stopping me doing anything fun."

Cameron smiled. "House, even if you were in a full body cast, there's no why I could stop you doing something you've set your mind on."

"Good, then get me a drink."

Cameron smiled. "You're on morphine, isn't that enough of a high?"

"See, nurse maid from hell." He said, teasing her.

"I can already see that you'll be the patient from hell."

"We'll make a good team then." House was silent for a few moments but just couldn't help himself. "I suppose Joe has been a huge help to you, letting you cry on his shoulder."

"Actually, Lisa's been the one comforting me. That's Joe's wife."

House looked contrite but didn't say anything. Cameron didn't have the heart to be angry with him. If it wasn't for her being over friendly with patients, he would be in this state.

She reached over and kissed him. "I'll go get you some food."

III

Wilson soon realised why House had asked him to get what he needed from his apartment and not Cameron. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he looked at the two coffee mugs, one stained with lipstick, and the note, signed Marie.

He put the note in his pocket and washed the mugs up before checking the apartment for other signs. Then he collected what House had asked for and returned to the hospital.

III

House was alone in his room when Wilson returned. He put the bag with House's things on a chair and went to stand by his bedside.

"Why the long face?" House asked.

"I don't appreciate being made an accomplice." Wilson took the note from his pocket and showed it to House.

House had the decency to look contrite.

"How could you?" Wilson asked.

"Like you're perfect?"

"This isn't about me."

"People in glass houses."

"Would you stop!" Wilson exclaimed. He ran a hand through his hair as he composed himself. "She is the best thing that ever happened to you. You're going out again, you're happier, you're almost pleasant at times."

"What I do with my life isn't your concern."

"No. But Cameron is. This relationship isn't a game to her. Do you have any idea what you're risking?"

"Are you going to tell her?"

Wilson didn't answer immediately. "I should."

"But you're not going to." House stated.

"No. At least, as long as you show me this relationship isn't just a game to you. Cameron's a special woman and she deserves better."

Again House looked shamefaced.

"Show her that you love her. Buy her flowers once in a while, bring her breakfast in bed, tell her you love her, anything. Just let her know you give a damn."

"Or what? You'll show her the note?"

"No. Blackmail is your style, not mine." He left, wondering if he'd done the right thing.

III

Cameron came to visit that afternoon after she'd finished her clinic duty. From the smile on her face, House knew Wilson hadn't said anything to her. She leaned over the railing and kissed him.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like crap. They lowered my morphine!"

"Shocking. Other than that?"

"I'm fine. When can I get out of here?"

"I don't know. You suffered head trauma, they'll probably want to keep you under observation for a while."

Wilson's words had been running around his head ever since he left. "Tell the doctors I want to discharge myself."

"House! You can't be alone. What if there are complications?"

"Tell them I'll be living with a doctor."

"But you…" Cameron looked puzzled.

House watched, smiling slightly as her expression registered what he was saying.

"Are you saying…"

"I want you to move in with me."

"You've just suffered head trauma, are you sure about this?"

"Wait, let me think." He said sarcastically. "Of course I'm sure. You already spend most of your time there anyway."

"But what about my place?"

"Keep it as an investment."

Cameron didn't answer immediately and House actually began to fear she might say no.

"What? Don't think you can look at this ugly mug 24/7?"

Cameron grinned. "I'm just surprised, that's all."

"Is that a yes?"

Cameron flung her arms around him. "Of course it's a yes!".

House groaned in pain and Cameron pulled away looking mortified.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry."

"Eh, what's another broken rib compared to that look on your face."