Disclaimer: I don't own House!

A/N: Sorry for the wait. Things are super busy right now. When we (finally) get to January, it'll be updates all the time. So, a little bit of Cameron's secret comes out in this chapter, though, as you'll see, it still needs some explanation...

CHAPTER 3

Cameron smiled as she watched House try to remove a pickle from his plate. The look of horror on his face when the waitress had placed his Reuben in front of him and he saw that a pickle had encroached on his territory had sent Cameron into near hysterics. She needed to laugh, and House seemed to understand that, so he only shot her a withering stare in response. Now he was using a fork to try to remove the offending object, but he didn't seem to want his fork to be tainted by the foul pickle. Cameron rolled her eyes, reached over, grabbed the pickle, and took a bite.

"Nice," he said. The two ate in silence for a few minutes, each uncertain of what to say.

"I'm glad you talked me into the veggie burger," Cameron acknowledged, pouring a generous amount of ketchup onto her fries.

"That'll teach you to try to eat salad at a New York diner. And this way, you're still getting your vegetables, so you don't have to worry about ruining your perfect figure," House responded. The sarcasm in his voice was hard to miss, but Cameron couldn't help but tease House.

"So, you think I have a perfect figure?" House froze in the middle of taking a bite. For a split second he looked flustered, but he quickly recovered.

"If I say yes, will it be easier to get into your pants, or are you one of those girls that gets off on being demeaned? I can do either, honestly."

"Ooh, deflection! Nice one. You know, you could have just said yes. I wouldn't have held it against you," Cameron told him. She flashed him an impish grin, and felt a small satisfaction as he lowered his gaze to his lap, struggling to hide a smile of his own.

"What do you do at the hospital, anyway?" he asked.

"I work in the Immunology department."

"Under Solomon?" House was clearly not a fan.

"Unfortunately." Cameron wasn't either.

"So, he's still an incompetent ass?" He took a huge bite of his Reuben.

"Definitely. Also an ass who can't keep his hands to himself," Cameron grumbled. House choked on his sandwich, and she waited patiently as he finished coughing.

"He touched you? I knew I should have punched him out when I had the chance. If only Wilson hadn't…" he trailed off, frowning. As House drifted off, Cameron wondered whether or not to say something.

"As it happens, I put him in his place very quickly. But your chivalry is very appreciated," she teased. But House didn't acknowledge her statement beyond a half-hearted grunt. Sighing, she put her sandwich down. "Wilson worries about you." House's eyes shot to hers, and she was surprised to see such naked pain in his gaze.

"I don't care about Wilson!" he shouted. After a few diners turned to look at the couple, House lowered his voice. "He betrayed me; he doesn't get to worry about me."

"I'm sorry, I don't really know what happened. I've only heard rumors," Cameron explained. "I just thought you might want to know." House sighed, and looked up at the ceiling. His sandwich sat forgotten on his plate.

"About three years ago, I had a patient named Jeffrey Eliot. You know, a young guy, married with four kids. He'd been referred to me from Seattle. Anyway, I diagnose him, but somehow he gets the wrong medication and… that was the end of our buddy Jeff. Every doctor makes a mistake, but both Cuddy and Wilson voted to fire me. That's why I'm here, bored out of my mind and pissed off like all Hell." Cameron's eyes narrowed after House finished his story.

"That's not the whole story, House. I'm not an idiot. Even if I hadn't heard rumors that contradict your tall tale, I still wouldn't be an idiot. Somehow I think that you'd have bothered to give me the names of the medications if, for instance, you could remember them. But you can't, can you? You never took a look at his file after everything was said and done. You didn't want to know what went wrong. Why is that, House? I'm guessing it has something to do with the pills rattling in your pocket. I'm guessing that it's not as simple as 'Cuddy and Wilson voted to fire me.' I'm guessing it has something more to do with 'Cuddy and Wilson voted to fire me after they'd done everything else possible, and I was just too stubborn of an ass to get any help for my addiction.' Am I getting closer to the truth?"

"I was in pain," House started, not bothering to deny any of her claims.

"Yeah, yeah. You still are. I get it, I get it. But you can't blame Wilson for caring. He was devastated after you disappeared. Apparently even his wife left him."

"Well, that's not a surprise. You know she was number twelve for him."

"All I'm saying is…"

"Why do you even care?" House interrupted. He leaned forward, holding Cameron's gaze. She didn't even hesitate, though.

"Because I can see the burdens you carry. I know you feel guilty about your patient. I even know that you feel guilty about running away from Wilson. But you're just too stubborn, House. You're too stubborn to admit that you may have made a mistake. You're too stubborn to admit you might need some help." Cameron leaned forward as she spoke. Their faces were a few inches away from each other's.

"Can I get you two anything else?" the waitress asked, not caring that she was interrupting a tense moment.

"No thanks," House growled. "Just the check." The waitress glared at the rude man, and slapped their check down on the table. House hadn't looked away from Cameron the entire time. "How would you know that I feel guilty?"

"I just can."

"What, are you psychic?" Though House had meant his question as a joke, the look on Cameron's face told him that she took it seriously. "Wait, what?" House asked, clearly confused and intrigued. "You've got to be kidding me. You don't actually believe…"

"As a matter of fact, I am and I do. Well, it's not that clear cut. I…see things. Feel things." Cameron wasn't sure why she decided to tell House of all people. House, who'd she met only a few hours earlier; House, a drug-addicted misanthrope. Not the smartest idea she'd ever had, but something instinctive told her she could trust him. Well, that and the fact that she was going to need his help figuring out what happened to Eva.

"Prove it," he challenged her.

"All right." She looked over his shoulder once more, like she had in the morgue. "Do you remember what Jeffrey Eliot looked like?" House nodded. "Dark, dark brown hair? He's kind of tall, but not as tall as you. He has the most amazing green eyes I've seen. I don't think I've ever seen anyone with eyes that color before. He…" she trailed off for a moment, quirking her head to the side. "He has a tattoo on his wrist. It looks like… initials?" House felt the world close in on him as she continued to describe the man that still haunted his dreams.

"You probably could have gotten all of that out of a file in the hospital," House scoffed, though he began to feel somewhat uneasy. She'd been describing him as if he'd been standing in front of her. Suddenly House had to resist the urge to look over his shoulder.

"I could have," she agreed. "I'm not into breaking and entering, like you apparently were, but it would be a distant possibility." Cameron sat silently for a moment, nodding. "You administered the medicine yourself. Heparin? Why'd you give him heparin? Wasn't he allergic?"

"That was the mistake," House replied softly, looking to the side as memories started coming back to him. "I don't know… I can't remember why… But I gave him too much. There wasn't enough time to… I was…" He stared at Cameron. "How did you…"

"He's sitting behind you." This time, House's head whipped to the side, straining to look at the booth behind him.

"I don't see anyone."

"He's there, trust me. Sometimes, after a person dies, they stick around. I don't know why. I'm guessing he's still around because you won't let him go." Cameron spoke softly, trying to gauge House's reaction to what she was saying.

"Oh, I don't think that's true. He's quite free to leave at any time," House replied, the edge to his tone giving Cameron cause for concern.

"No, that's not how it works. Because he died, your whole life fell apart, though you're refusing to acknowledge it. Until you accept that you have a problem and that it's time to turn your life around, he's going to be here." Cameron impulsively reached across the table and placed her hand over his. His hand was much larger than hers, but she splayed her fingers wide. Absently she realized that he had a pianist's hands.

"Aren't you supposed to at least wait until the second date before you try to change me?" House asked.

"I thought this wasn't a date," Cameron reminded him.

"Exactly," he replied, removing his hand.

"Listen, I'm going to need your help finding out what happened to Eva. With your position, you can go places and ask questions that I can't. But I'm trying to help you understand a few things. Eva and I… we were close. We were closer than most because we hid each other's secrets."

"Like the fact that you see dead people?"

"Like the fact that I see dead people," Cameron agreed, smiling despite herself. "Eva is…was psychokinetic."

House leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. He studied Cameron carefully, obviously trying to decide whether or not he should believe her. Cameron fidgeted slightly in her seat, worried that without House, she wouldn't be able to figure out what happened to Eva. Well, that, and the growing feeling that she cared about what he thought about her.

"I don't believe you," he said finally. "I'm just trying to figure out why you're lying to me. Are you trying to blackmail me into helping you? Because I gotta tell you that that doesn't work with me."

"Everybody lies," Cameron whispered, still staring over his shoulder.

"What?" House barked.

" Everybody lies, Jeff. If you haven't figured that out by now, you probably will. At least, you'll have to when you finally catch your wife banging your best friend. Come on, I've seen that guy, and, let me tell you, he is hot. They are definitely fucking. When you get out of here, I would probably get a paternity test for the youngest spawn. Definitely not yours.' Oh, House, he was dying. Why would you tell him that?" Cameron's eyes found House's and her disappointment was evident. She looked defeated; she had a feeling that there was no way he was going to help her.

"No one else heard me say that," House said, looking down at his abandoned sandwich. He paused, the memory flooding back to him. "I told him that when I was administering the…the heparin, I guess. I was pissed off, I was…" he shrugged, and rubbed his face absently.

"You had no self-control?"

"Still don't, thanks," House replied, banging his fist softly against the table. Cameron sighed. "So, if you see this guy, then where are my grandparents? My pet goldfish?"

"They had no reason to stay, I'm assuming. Ghosts don't stick around for fun; if they're here, it's usually because something bad happened."

"What about you? Anyone following you?" Cameron froze in place, though her eyes flicked quickly to the left. "I'll take that as a yes."

"My husband," she whispered, as if he was in the next booth. "I'm almost used to it by this point." House raised an eyebrow. "He died of cancer almost ten years ago."

"You married young," he noted. Cameron smiled grimly.

"Too young and yet too late. He died six months into our marriage." House watched as her face darkened and her shoulders inched towards her ears. If Jeff Eliot was his burden, Cameron's husband was certainly hers.

"Why is he sticking around, then?"

"I don't know, but I wish I did." She sounded desperate.

"And here I thought 'until death do us part' meant something completely different."

"So, are you just trying to jerk me around, or do you actually believe me?" Cameron wanted to cut to the chase. She didn't like the direction of this particular conversation. House thought about that for a moment.

"I'm intrigued, I'll give you that. If you're making it all up, you've gone to great lengths, which means that you're absolutely desperate for my help. That interests me. If you're not making it up, well, then I'm curious to see what else you can come up with." Cameron looked relieved.

"You'll help me figure out what happened to Eva?"

"On my terms, though."

"I can deal with that," Cameron agreed. She'd take whatever he could give her.

The truth was that House was slightly freaked out. It was possible that Cameron had just done an obscene amount of research on the incident that changed his life without knowing that she'd meet him. Sure, that was possible, but House knew from experience that just because something was possible didn't mean that it was what happened. In fact, he knew that sometimes the thing that made the least sense ended up making the most sense. So, Allison Cameron and the ability to see dead people? Okay, kind of out there, but how else would she have known what he'd said to his patient? How would she know what he looked like? Did Jeff Eliot tell someone about it before he died? It just didn't make sense, and House hated it when things didn't make sense. Maybe he didn't quite believe Cameron, but he didn't yet disbelieve her.

He looked over at her, and noted the almost pathetically open, honest look on her face. Maybe she was absolutely insane, but she believed what she was saying, and she believed that he could help her. The curiosity was overwhelming. Well, that, and the equally overwhelming desire to kiss that spot right above her collarbone… House shook his head, trying to forget those thoughts. That sort of complication was the last thing he needed right now.

And yet… she hadn't yet realized that all she needed to do was ask, and he would help her. He was just putting up a front at this point… Even if she was claiming to see dead people. Oh God, this was going to be complicated. House needed time to think before he asked her more questions about her sister, or her past.

"Are you going back to Princeton tonight?" he asked.

"I guess so," she answered. "I mean, Tritter told me I can't go to Eva's apartment yet, so I don't have any place to stay. It's early still; I shouldn't have a problem getting a train."

"I-I'll take you to Penn Station." There was a slight pause, and then she smiled warmly.

"Thanks, House."

Cameron stood in front of the tracks, facing House. Her train wasn't leaving for another ten minutes, but she wanted to get a seat.

"So, I have your phone number now. I'll call you later in the week when I'm back in the City?" Cameron asked House. He only nodded in response. "I want to thank you for helping me." He didn't even acknowledge that. "Do you believe me?" She needed to know.

"I'm not sure yet," he answered, giving her a searching look. "But I'll help you regardless." Cameron rushed forward and hugged him. She waited until he awkwardly put his arms around her shoulders, and then she let him go.

"You have no idea what this means to me, House." When she looked up at him, her breath hitched. House was gazing at her so intensely that she felt almost uncomfortable, but she held eye contact. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah, later." Reluctantly, she walked down the line of cars until she found one that was still relatively unpopulated. Right before she stepped inside, she turned to look behind her. House still stood there, watching her. So was Jeff Eliot, though, for the slightest second, his image flickered. For just a second, he'd disappeared... Cameron smiled.

There's hope for him yet.