Disclaimer: I don't own House.

A/N: Happy New Year! (And, uh, Merry Christmas while I'm at it…)

Cameron couldn't be bothered to get out of bed the next day. She knew it wasn't worth it to wallow in self-pity for too long, but, hell, everyone deserved a day or two in their lives to overreact to something. And, honestly, Cameron couldn't remember the last time she lay in bed in her pajamas until one in the afternoon. Sighing loudly, Cameron turned onto her side, and watched her cat languish in the afternoon sun. A small smile flitted across her features as Gretchen stretched lazily before closing her eyes once more.

When she heard an insistent knocking at her front door, Cameron frowned, but she made no move to get up and answer it. She'd expected either Chase or Foreman to call her at some point during the day with some macho display of concern, but cutting out of work to show up at her door? Only one man had the balls to do that, and she really wasn't up for that right now. Cameron knew she shouldn't have been surprised when she heard her front door open, but she raised her head and peeked out her open door and into her front hall. She watched as House glanced around the apartment, his watchful gaze taking in the small details. It was easy to imagine what he'd see: Gretchen's near-empty water bowl, yesterday's dishes (not to mention those from the day before) strewn about the living room and kitchen, the jacket haphazardly dropped onto the floor near the couch. But she swore silently when he caught her studying him. It was with a bit of surprise and consternation that she noted his anger.

"Go away," she ordered, lowering her head once more to the pillow. Of course he wouldn't listen to her, but the purpose with which he strode into her room made her heart pound a little harder. What was he up to?

"Cameron, get up. You're coming to work," he commanded, throwing off her covers. Cameron allowed herself a small smirk as she noticed his pupils dilate as he took in her shorts and tank top. She couldn't help the shiver that ran down her spine, though, as his eyes raked down her body.

"House, I called in sick. Don't you have a patient?"

"Doesn't matter," he replied, though she wasn't sure to which question he was referring. "Get up and get dressed. I'm going to take you to the hospital myself."

"House, no. I called in sick, and I'm taking the rest of the day off, okay? You can'tmake me go to work," she scoffed. Almost immediately, she regretted her words. The wrong thing to do in this situation was to challenge him. Now his stubborn male pride would certainly force him to make sure she got to work. "Would you like some coffee? I was just about to make some." House watched, incredulous, as she stood up and walked past him.

"No, I would not like some coffee. I would like for you to get dressed and go to work," he called out, following her to the kitchen. Cameron ignored him, but did pull out two mugs from her cupboard. Again House watched her, thrown off by her casualness.

"Does Cuddy know that you skipped out on work? I'll bet she doesn't. I wonder what shethinks you're doing." The multitude of scenarios that passed through her mind brought a small smile to her face. "Oh well," she added, though it didn't mean anything in particular.

"Cameron, you can't just sit around feeling sorry for yourself," House admonished, his voice sounding somewhat harsh through his clenched teeth.

"House, do I look like I'm sitting around feeling sorry for myself?" she countered, pushing a button on her coffee machine. It was a somewhat feeble comeback, and they both knew it. "I just needed a day off. It's been a…bizarre past few months to say the least."

"That's no excuse," he pushed.

"What, so I'm just supposed to push on as if nothing had ever happened? As if I hadn't started and consequently broken off an ill-advised relationship with a co-worker and a nice guy? As if I hadn't quit my beloved job and started a much less fulfilling one? As if I hadn't had to face brutal memories of a past that I so desperately wish I could forget? As if I…" She froze, realizing quickly what she'd been about to admit in front of House. Moving to cover her slip-up, she reached for the sugar on her small kitchen table. "We're not all like you, House. We don't just pretend that nothing can affect us, because everyone knows that it's impossible not to feel." Cameron tried her best not to sneak a glance at House, but she could catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye.

"That's not what I meant," he grumbled after a moment, running a hand over his face. "You can't just skip out on work because you're feeling sad. That's not how life works!"

When he brought his fist down violently against her kitchen counter, Cameron jumped and looked up at him. He looked just so angry.

"House, what's wrong? Why do you care if I take a day off of work? I don't even work for you anymore, so I don't really think it's any of your business." Though she spoke quietly, she spoke forcefully—forcefully enough so that House's brow wrinkled with confusion. "I'm a big girl, House, I don't need you…" she broke off as she felt tears prick the back of her eyes. Blinking furiously, she tried to turn away from House, but he put a hand on her shoulder and swung her to face him. She had barely a second to refocus before his lips came crashing down on hers.

Cameron froze as House pressed his body against hers. Somewhere, deep down, she immediately realized that he was desperately trying to communicate something to her—something he obviously wasn't sure how to say. But, with no small amount of regret, she quickly saw that this was perhaps not the best way to figure things out between them. Though she knew that at least a small part of her would hate herself for it later, she placed a warning hand against his chest and leaned back.

"House, stop," she said calmly. He obeyed her, but she saw the hurt flash through his eyes and she knew that he was taking this as a flat-out refusal. As he tried to step away from her, she put her hand against his waist, holding him in place. It took a moment for her to regain her focus after she took a deep breath, inhaling his familiar scent. "House, this isn't the best way to go about things. I'm… having a bad week and you're obviously very upset about something. We can't just try to release our frustrations like that…"

"I thought it was helping…" he mumbled under his breath, looking off to the side. Cameron had to bite her lip to keep from smiling as she noticed the slight blush rising in his cheeks.

"Yeah, but it starts off with one time, then two, then three, and then suddenly we're completely dependent on each other to solve our problems in a not-exactly-healthy way."

She paused, looking down at her hand against his waist. As if to reassure herself that it was indeed her hand so carefully placed against Gregory House's side, she moved her hand up to his chest and she gingerly covered his heart. "What are you so angry about?" He sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

"I'm angry that you decided to sit at home and wallow instead of facing things head on." Though to anyone else it would have seemed that he was finished speaking, she could sense that he had more to say. "I'm angry that you were in a relationship with Chase when it was so obviously such a dumb thing to do. I'm angry that you quit for no good reason and that you've settled for such a stupid job that you very clearly don't want to be doing. I'm angry…I'm angry that your father hurt you and that you thought I would ever do the same to you." She was lucky that she was standing so close to him, because as he continued to speak his voice lowered until he was barely whispering. For a moment, Cameron couldn't breathe. House had never been so honest with her about how he was feeling. Never. Why now? Why here?

"Why do you care?" she asked, though she knew it was probably the worst thing she could have said. With a growl of frustration, House stepped away from her and walked to the living room. He paced madly for a second, before turning to her.

"You want to know why I care?" he spat. "Really, Cameron, you want to know?" Cameron watched, helpless, as House threw off his leather jacket. He was wearing only a red t-shirt underneath, so he pointed to his naked elbow and said, "You see this scar here? That's from when I was knocked into a glass table because I didn't come home in time to help my mom set the table for dinner." Without thinking, she took a step forward. House reached down for his pant cuff, and rolled up his jeans. Then he pointed to the knee of his uninjured leg. "This one here? This is from the one time I was stupid enough to try to run away. I fell on the stairs and ended up with two broken ribs for my efforts." He turned around and lifted his t-shirt to reveal his back. Cameron almost reached out with her hands to run her fingers along the few small, yet harsh white scars littered across the hard planes of his back. She felt a tear roll down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away before House could see her. "Those were accumulated throughout the years, though most of them resulted from instances in which I wasn't properly respecting his authority." House's tone was bitter and mocking. He turned to face her once more. When he saw her red eyes, his gaze hardened. "Don't be stupid, Cameron. You don't get to sit around and feel sorry for yourself. Because if you do? If you do, you don't do anything else." Without hesitation, House picked up his jacket, put it on, and then he stormed out, slamming the door in the process.

Cameron spent at least five minutes staring at that door, trying to make sense of what had just happened. House had opened up to her, somewhat as she had to him on the roof of the hospital yesterday. She began to curse herself. Twice—twice—House had sought her out when she'd wanted to disappear. Twice he had gone out of his way to… comfort her? Help her? She wasn't sure what House's motives were, but she knew that she was an idiot for not appreciating his efforts.

And then there was that kiss. Of course she'd had to stop him, right? She knew that they were both frustrated and were looking for a way out of things, and she knew that rough, meaningless sex would not have fixed anything in the long term. Well, certainly not for her, because she knew that it would never be meaningless on her end… In that moment, Cameron allowed, for the very first time, the possibility that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be meaningless for House either.

"Oh, God dammit!" Cameron cried out, covering her face with both hands. "How could I be so unbelievably, profoundly stupid?" She ran to the bathroom, violently turning the knobs of her tub to start a shower. Whatever else happened today, she wasn't going to come back to her apartment until she found and spoke to House.

Half an hour later, Cameron walked through the front lobby of the hospital, dressed in a gray skirt, pink short-sleeved blouse, gray vest, and black pumps. She ran a hand along her skirt, trying to smooth invisible wrinkles. It felt a little ridiculous to be so dressed up when she was supposed to be sick and at home, but she was a woman on a mission, and she wanted to look good. Quickly, she made her way to the elevators, making sure to duck her head as she passed Cuddy's office.

Her heart was pounding as she approached the Diagnostics office. So far she'd managed to avoid anyone who knew her, but at the very least Foreman would be there, and she didn't particularly want to have to ask for House and face Foreman's disapproving look. But she got lucky—House's team, including Foreman, was nowhere in sight, but she could see House brooding in his darkened office. Before she gave herself a split second to doubt her reasons for coming, Cameron opened his door and walked in.

It was only when she met his ice-cold gaze that she realized she hadn't really planned what to say.

"Good to see you finally decided to get over yourself," House growled, inspecting her from head to toe. Cameron resisted the urge to turn around and walk out of his office forever, but she stood her ground.

"House, would you like to get a drink with me after work?" she blurted out. Whatever House was expecting her to say, that was very clearly not it. He froze in place, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. When he didn't answer immediately, Cameron began to fidget. "You know, I'm not suggesting we go out on a date per se, just, you know, a drink. Like what friends would do." Then she waited. And waited.

"Okay," he replied. "I'll pick you up at your apartment at 6." Then he swung his chair away from her so that he faced the balcony. After another moment Cameron realized that that had been the end of the conversation, so she turned around and walked out of his office.

Wilson walked out of his office, frowning as he looked over a patient's lab results. He looked up as he passed Diagnostics, and was surprised to see Cameron standing in the hallway, looking completely shell shocked.

"Cameron?" he called out. When she turned to look at him, he noted the completely dazed expression on her face.

"Oh, Wilson, hi." Cameron didn't focus very well on his face.

"Um, what are you doing here? I thought you had called in sick." He couldn't help but feel a little worried, so he reached out and lightly touched her shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah. Well, you know, I'm not here officially. I just had to, you know, talk to… House about….something," she finished lamely. Wilson looked into House's office, noticing House's back was facing them. But his friend was totally still. Something weird had happened, though Wilson had no idea what.

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, actually," Cameron replied, a grin breaking out across her features. She giggled, shrugging her shoulders. "Yeah, I'm doing okay." Then she turned to look at House brooding in his office. After a moment she rolled her eyes. "Well, for the moment, anyway."

"Okay…" Wilson said, for lack of anything else.

"I'll see you later Wilson, I need to get back home." She waved, flashing him a grin once more. He watched her until she was in the elevator, and then, like a bloodhound trailing a scent, walked straight into House's office. Of course House didn't turn around when he walked in, so Wilson opened and shut his mouth a few times as he thought of things to say and then discarded them just as quickly. He knew that if House had seen him he would have told him to stop making fish faces and just say something already, dammit, so he could return to his PSP.

"House, what the Hell just happened? I know something did, so don't even try to deny it!" House swiveled around to face Wilson, a hint of an enigmatic smile flickering across his face.

"Come now, Jimmy, what could possibly have happened?" He reached for his cane and stood up.

"Well, that's what I would like to know. Cameron wasn't crying, so you didn't break her heart, or something like that. She looked completely shell-shocked, which means that you either did something nice—unlikely, as we both know—or… Or you admitted that you have feelings for her? No, that would be too easy."

"Do I even need to be here for this?" House asked, swallowing loudly as Wilson's not-so-wild guesses wandered closer to the bull's-eye. He walked out into the hallway, trailed by the stubborn Wilson.

"Why would she have dressed up to come into work when she's supposed to be sick? And, for that matter, where did you disappear to during lunch? Did you…?" House didn't need to look behind him to realize that Wilson had just had an "Aha!" moment. Instead, he heard the rustle of Wilson's lab coat as, House assumed, he gesticulated wildly. "House!" he whispered furiously. "House, did you go to Cameron's on your lunch break?"

"Why would I do something like that?" House grumbled, repeatedly pressing the button for the elevator.

"Because you like her, that's why!" Wilson crowed. House turned around and shot him a warning glance. "After nearly four years, can you just admit it, House? I promise I won't ask you another question if you will just admit to me that you like Allison Cameron." The elevator doors opened, and House stepped in. When Wilson didn't follow, House smirked and pressed the button for the cafeteria floor.

"Okay, Wilson, here it goes: I—" The elevator door shut in the face of an expectant Wilson. House allowed himself a triumphant smirk before he frowned. Drinks with Cameron were no big deal, was it? He sighed, placing his forehead against the cool metal of the doors.

Who was he kidding?