AN: Okay, so I know this one is a lot shorter than the last few I've posted. And I also know that it jumps around a lot, but I wanted to get in a little bit of what everyone was thinking about the surgery etc.

Disclaimer: Do I have to?

Chapter 37

Against House's wishes, Cameron entered his hospital room after the nurse had finished prepping him for the surgery. His head was turned toward the window and he either didn't hear her enter or decided not to acknowledge her. She stepped to the side of the bed and placed her hands gingerly on the rail. Just the sight of him in that gown, IV tubes running out of his arm and monitors beeping, turned her stomach. The last time she'd seen him like this he'd been bullet ridden and comatose and she'd been hoping desperately he'd wake up without pain.

"At least this time you're not full of hot lead," Cameron said quietly.

House turned his head toward her and frowned at the lame joke. He'd asked her not to come in here. He didn't like her seeing him like this; he didn't like anyone seeing him like this but especially her. It made him feel … he couldn't name it. Most emotions were foreign to him and the ones that made him uncomfortable were best left unnamed. It made them easier to dismiss.

"You're not supposed to be here," House replied.

"I can't live by your rules," Cameron quipped. House allowed a slight grin to pass his lips. She was trying to make him comfortable. It was just so Cameron.

"You finish unpacking your boxes?" House asked. It was something of a running joke between them now. She'd moved in to his apartment days ago, and so far all they'd done was move boxes from one room to another. Only Cameron's treadmill had survived the move; there was simply no room for any other furniture at his place. Unfortunately, neither was there room for more clothes, books or movies. Even the treadmill was currently folded up and taking up space in the kitchen.

"Yep," Cameron said. "It was much easier once you'd left. I just threw out anything that was taking up space I needed." House made a face at her. He didn't want to have this talk. This was the goodbye talk, the 'I love you' in case something went wrong talk. He'd made her swear last night on a Rolling Stones album that she wouldn't cry and he intended to make sure she kept that promise.

"Sure, wait until I'm laid up and then just take over," House said. "Typical."

"You know me, always stepping on someone's toes to get my own way," Cameron said. "Oh no, wait, that's not me. Who does that?"

"You suck at this," House complained.

"Sorry, I'm lacking practice in giving sarcastic pep talks to my fiancé before major surgery," Cameron retorted.

"That was better," House allowed.

Before they could say anything more two nurses entered the room and began wheeling House out of the room. Cameron stepped back and let him go; it was hard, impossible almost, but she'd sworn to him he would see no tears. House closed his eyes and forced an image of a crying Stacy out of his mind. This wasn't like that, he told himself.

Cameron followed the gurney out of the room and stopped in the hall as an orderly spun it around and headed down the hall. She smiled at House brightly as he passed, hoping it didn't look as fake to him as it felt to her.

"Stay out of my CDs," he warned her as they wheeled him past. Cameron gave a smart salute, not trusting her own voice. When the double doors at the end of the hall swung shut, she leaned against the wall and slid to the floor in a wet mess of tears.

Wilson watched Cameron and House from behind the nurse's station. He had tried to force himself to go in there and say something before it was too late but his stubborn feet just wouldn't follow his commands. He and Cuddy had a long talk about House, the surgery, the baby and their future after drinks with Chase and Cameron and Wilson had come to a decision. He needed House.

It wasn't House's fault that Wilson had put him first. House had never asked him to do that. In fact, House had rarely asked him for anything but Vicodin and the occasional bail money. He hadn't even started out asking for lunch. Whatever imbalance there was between them was all on Wilson. House took because Wilson gave. It was Wilson's issue too, not just House's.

Wilson watched as his best friend was wheeled out of his room and through the swinging doors and berated himself for being too chicken to talk to him. Then his warm brown eyes turned and watched Cameron, Cameron who had been smiling and joking with House just seconds ago, slide to the floor in a puddle of helplessness.

Wilson's paralysis broke. He strode across the hall and sunk to the floor beside her, drawing her into his arms and letting her tears soak his favorite green tie. He sighed. House had always hated that tie. Maybe this was a fitting end to its existence.

Cuddy sat at her desk, randomly pulling charts and making nonsensical notes. When she looked down at the file she was working on and realized that she couldn't even read her own handwriting she flung her pen to the desk in frustration and looked at her watch again. It was only three minutes since the last time she'd checked. He would be in surgery for at least another two hours. Conceding defeat, she left her office and went upstairs where she found Wilson and Cameron on the couch in his office. Cameron's head was resting on Wilson's chest and she looked as though she was getting the first sleep she'd had in days. Cuddy's eyes met Wilson's and he smiled. She sat on the other side of him and let her head join Cameron's on his chest. Wilson just pulled his girls tighter and closed his eyes to wait.

Jasper and Chase sat quietly in the cafeteria, each picking at a lunch they weren't really hungry for. Jasper sighed and grabbed Chase's arm to look at his watch again. Another hour at least. Chase reached forward and caressed the side of her face with his palm. She smiled, but it didn't erase the worry from her eyes.

Price slapped another file on the nurse's desk in the clinic and sighed. He couldn't explain to himself, the man had been nothing but a complete bastard to him, but he was worried. He straightened the name tag on his lab coat so the Dr. House was more readily visible and took another file.

House woke up in his room alone. He knew Cameron was waiting outside; he could feel her out there clenching. He'd insisted that she not be allowed into the recovery room until he'd given his okay. It wasn't easy; he longed to bury his face in her hair and pretend he was in a tropical rainforest. But he discussed the chances of the surgery's success with Dr. Jessup carefully and he knew that what his leg felt like when he woke up would be a pretty good indication of what it would feel like going forward.

Throat scratchy and eyes dry, House shifted in bed and winced. His leg hurt.

Cameron paced back in forth outside the recovery room furiously. House had instructed the nurses not to let anyone in the room until he gave his approval. She had wanted to be there when he woke up. She couldn't believe he would shut her out like this now, after she'd spent the past year chipping away at the wall he put up around himself. She'd just managed to bore herself a little hole, barely large enough for her to squeeze through and there he was on the other side, shoveling in cement.

Wilson watched Cameron with concern. The longer she waited the angrier she became. At first, when the nurses had refused her admittance, she had been silent. Too hurt or too stunned that House was keeping her out, Wilson couldn't tell. But as she walked the short stretch of hallway the hurt had been replaced with a cold fury. Her strides had lengthened until she was crossing the hall in three steps instead of seven. By her tenth pass, she was clenching and unclenching her fists at her sides.

Cameron turned at the far end of the hall for her eleventh pass by the doors that would lead her to House and Wilson saw her eyes flashing dangerously. If House wasn't in pain when he woke up, Wilson was pretty sure he would be when Allison got in there. When she reached Wilson's side he glanced at her hands as she unfisted her fingers and saw blood on the nails.

"Allison," he said quietly. She stopped, surprised, as if she'd forgotten he was even there. Gently Wilson grasped one of her hands and lifted it. She had been clenching so fiercely her nails had pierced the palms of her hands.

"Why is he doing this?" Cameron's voice broke and Wilson ground his teeth. Whatever reasons House thought he had for keeping her away weren't worth what this was doing to her, what they were making her do to herself.

"I don't know," Wilson said. "Come on, let's go clean these up. It'll only take a few minutes. When we get back, maybe he'll be ready to see people."

Cameron allowed Wilson to walk her to the elevators, a firm but gentle hand gripping her arm just above the elbow. She could barely think straight, her head and her heart swirling with doubt and seething with anger.

Cuddy had returned to her office before House was due out of surgery. As much as she'd wanted to stay and wait, there was work to be done. Cameron was certainly in no shape to be working today and the hospital wouldn't run itself. Cuddy knew she wouldn't have the concentration or the energy to chart. She busied herself with the little details of the hospital's upcoming fundraiser. Food and drink, music and decorations. She chatted with caterers and designers. She debated between a harpist and a string quartet. And as she hung up the phone after negotiating the price of the tent rentals a marvelous idea occurred to her. Grinning from ear to ear, Cuddy grabbed her purse and took out her personal address book. If she was going to pull this off, she needed help. And fast.

House grabbed both rails of the bed tightly and shifted his weight once more. He gritted his teeth in anticipation and gingerly began testing out his leg. Twisting his ankle and knee left to right, rolling his hips and finally lifting his leg off the bed an inch or two.

It hurt. A lot. It was a sharp, glassy pain. It was intense. And it was focused. Focused on the six or seven inch incision in the midst of his scar tissue. The ache was gone. The constant, bone deep pain that had been his hell for the past six years was gone. He let his head lean back against the bed and began to laugh.