Ok, as promised, another tender moment between House and Cam!! Enjoy! Steph

CHAPTER SIX

"Hello?"

"Cu…Cammie?"

"House?! It's 3 o'clock…I just got…what's going on?" she asked when she realized he didn't sound himself.

He laughed loudly and then snorted, something he had only done when he was a kid and beyond being anxious over something. He finally got a grip on himself, somewhat.

"Noththth'n…I'm freakin' fannnntastic! Been drinkin' the past, uh, four hourzzz and I felin' gruuuu-ate!" He laughed again hysterically, but only he found it funny. "Hey! I'm Toneee the Tig…"

Cameron sat up in bed and turned the lamp on beside her bed. She hadn't been asleep anyway. Something about the tone of his voice scared her to death and, not the first time, but she was truly worried about him.

"House, I'll be over there in thirty minutes. Will you be alright 'til I get there?" Cameron had no idea why she was going over there, but at least if something happened to him she'd be there with him and could get help if she needed to.

"No, I don…I'vvve run outta Sctchchch, can you brinng hiccup a boddel?"

"No," she said sternly. "But I'm going to get dressed and come over. I'm getting a cab and I'm going to call you from my cell phone so we can talk 'til I get there, so answer it when it rings."

"loooazer…wait, you're nekkid?"

"Shut up, House! I'll call you in ten minutes!" she said, hung up the phone and hurried to change to meet the cab.

House aimed for the cradle of the phone but missed; it fell on the table, disconnected. He sat back on the couch cushion and took a deep breath, trying to get his control back. He stared at Steve McQueen running his wheel and it was making him dizzy then sick to his stomach. He closed his eyes but that made his head feel as if it would melt into the pillow and land on the floor.

He shot his eyes open and looked around the room, as if it were all alien to him. Then he saw it. It was sitting on the coffee table by the empty liqueur bottle, which he had drunk on his own. The bullet.

He heard a knock on the door and was shocked she'd made it to his place so quickly. He stood up slowly but lost his balance and fell back on the couch.

"House, House! Answer me!" Cameron screamed, pounding on the door.

"Hold your horses."

His speech was still slurred but better than it had been. He got back up again, grabbed his cane and headed for the door. He opened it slowly and saw Cameron standing there in a sweatshirt and sweatpants.

"House! You didn't answer the phone!" she said urgently as she came in wobbling on crutches, dropped a bag by the couch and looked at the receiver, lying next to the cradle. "Oh."

She looked at House closely – the lines in his face, the dark bags under his eyes, his red, swollen lids. They were more than just a drunk man. Her eyes did a quick look down his body and noticed his t-shirt was looser than it should be and his jeans were baggy, which they'd never been before.

House sat back down on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table. Cameron stood at the end of the couch and followed his motions then saw the bullet by his foot. She remembered what happened there, and knew of only one shot – the one that hit Debra.

"Found it in the wall in the hallway," he said quietly and sedate after he noticed her staring at it.

"When…never mind. It doesn't matter. House, what do you think you were doing getting this drunk?" Cameron finally asked, but she knew the real answer to that.

House shrugged his shoulders. "No' a 401K marathon, that fur shuur."

"When was the last time you ate anything?"

"Dunno…yessssday mornnnn…" he lied, not mentioning Wilson had been there earlier. But to be fair, he didn't really eat much.

At the sound of food, House's face changed and Cameron knew what that meant. He covered his mouth, his lips and cheeks puckered as if he were going to throw up. He had enough control to quickly limp into the bathroom and lose it in the toilet. He retched a few times and nothing came out but fluid. His arms were around the toilet in a hug and his face was right over it. He threw up again twice but they were just dry heaves.

After a few minutes of Cameron standing in the hall watching him, she went into the bathroom, grabbed a washcloth, ran cold water over it and held it until he stopped throwing up. She knew if she treated him like a baby it would only make him angry, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

He finally stopped, wiped his mouth with his long-sleeve t-shirt, flushed the toilet and sat up a bit then looked up at her, but not into her eyes. The expression on his face tore into her heart, but she tried not to let surprise show. It was mixed with guilt, embarrassment, shame and about five other emotions. She never said a word but handed him the washcloth.

He took it, sat back and collapsed on his butt, still holding his stomach but managed to wipe his mouth and hands. His head hurt, he felt like his ribs had been removed from the crowbar to his ribs which hadn't completely healed. He didn't want much at the moment, but he knew he definitely wanted his bed.

"I'm…sorry," he said quietly.

Cameron extended her arm for him so she could help him up. With her in a cast and House with a bum thigh, the two looked quite the pair. Cameron couldn't help but laugh as she pulled him up; he just looked at her confused.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing."

He was heavier than she thought he'd be and his weight came at her fast, forcing her bum against the sink behind her with his hands on her upper arms. This time House looked into her eyes.

"Sorry," he said as he stepped away from her. "What were you laughing at?" he asked. With the liquor somewhat out of his body he had stopped slurring, but he was still drunk.

"It's just…you've heard 'a blind man helping a blind man?' We just did a 'cripple helping a cripple.'"

"Okay, that's not funny," he said seriously then laughed, but then grew serious again.

The two were still standing staring at each other and the tight quarters were making House very uncomfortable. "I need you to tell me something."

She frowned, not knowing what exactly he was talking about. "Okay, but you're getting in bed," she said.

He looked at her and grinned evilly and said as he walked out. "It's that easy to get you into bed?"

"Shut up, House," Cameron said, but in a playful tone as she followed him. "You need sleep, for, like, 48 hours straight."

The two hobbled into his bedroom and he headed straight for his bed, flopped down perfectly on his pillow, face first, and his body perfectly situated on the bed.

"Hey?! What happennned to da lighs?" House asked then his body shook with his laughter.

Cameron laughed along with him for a moment then asked, "So, what did you need to know?"

He turned his head to the side to face her and put his head on his right elbow. He hesitated a moment before he said, "I nee' to know wha' Debr said."

"House, you should ask her that. I'm not sure what she meant."

"I din't aks you to tell meee what she meant. I aksed you wut she sod."

"She said, '"Talk to your dad. Don't let Uncle John die with you still mad at him; you'll … regret it. I will.'"

House looked at her confused. "Wha' the hell doesss…oh."

He closed his eyes and put the back of his hand on his forehead. So many thoughts were racing through his head he didn't know what to say. He felt her hand rub his arm and it comforted him, in a way he couldn't explain.

He felt the covers move under his legs and it tickled slightly, but he didn't react as the soft 600 ct sheets covered him to his chest. He put his hand down to his side and melted into his bed. He looked at Cameron but didn't say anything.

"Get some sleep, House. I'm not going anywhere," she told him, her voice soft and reassuring.

"Thanks," he whispered and was soon asleep.

She looked at him as he dozed to sleep. She loved it when he was vulnerable, and sweet. There were good qualities about the man she admired, yet there were others that she detested. She figured that was why she was so attracted to him.

She turned to walk out, still on crutches, and heard him say, "Cam..'m sorry."