Room 315

House got out of Exam Room 1 about twenty minutes after Cuddy left. Several people were staring at his face; one woman shielded her little boy's eyes as House passed. House paused in front of this woman and loudly whispered, with a conversational tone in his voice, "She felt guilty."

The woman looked outraged and like a fish out of water. House didn't stop to appreciate his handiwork; he had an oncologist to interrogate.

Wilson had offered to take Cameron and Christopher back to their hotel--mother and son had taken the cab to PPTH--and it wasn't just out of common decency.

"Trying to avoid someone?" Cameron said teasingly. They were in the parking lot, walking to Wilson's car; Christopher draped over Wilson's shoulder, fast asleep. The little darling tuckered out after meeting so many people and visiting many places in the hospital. He made quite a racket during his first check-up with Dr. Landers, though—Cameron turned red and explained loudly over the racket Christopher was making that it was near his naptime. The plump, elfin-faced pediatrician smiled sympathetically and nodded.

"Christopher isn't the only patient of mine who comes in here trying to wake up the coma patients," Dr. Landers said conversationally.

Cameron grinned sheepishly.

"Dr. Larson is right," Landers said, whipping off her gloves after thoroughly looking over Christopher, who was beginning to quiet down and yawn. "Though the banding isn't severe, it will affect the development of his right leg. I suggest setting up an appointment with Dr. Cartwright as soon as possible, in order to avoid complications when he gets older."

Landers walked over to the sink in the examination room of her office and began to wash her hands. "You should've brought him to a specialist last month, but what's in a month, eh?"

Cameron just smiled faintly, rocking her son slowly to sleep.

"So, you're meeting up with Cartwright tomorrow?" Wilson asked as he set-up Christopher's car seat in the back of his car. Cameron was leaning on the trunk, smoothing Christopher's hair from his fair brow.

"Landers called up his office, but he was in the operating room at the time," she replied. "Left a note with the secretary instead, then went to Cuddy's office to take my leave. Had to leave another note to HER secretary; she was off trying to fix whatever mess House tried to get the hospital into."

Wilson sighed. "House kind of manhandled his latest patient; the patient's dad went medieval on him."

Cameron raised a dark auburn brow. "How'd you know about that?"

Wilson grinned as he backed out of the car door, holding his hands out for Christopher. "The nurse's station is also known as 'Information', did you know that?"

House was chuffed. Wilson bailed out on him, the wily little sneak.

He looked just about everywhere: Wilson's office, the lounge in oncology, the cafeteria, the nurse's station, the office where the cute blond accountant Wilson flirted with (though he denies it) works at. Nothing.

House did get a major clue as he stood on the second-floor balcony, overlooking the entrance to the hospital and the Clinic.

Nurse Brenda and some new girl were leaving the Clinic, heading for the cafeteria. They were chatting up a storm, so absorbed in their gossip that they didn't notice that someone was paying them a lot of attention.

"...sure think that those two are becoming an item." Brenda said caustically. "Did you see how Dr. Wilson and Dr. Cameron were talking to each other?"

"They'd better not be an item!" the younger woman nasally cried, making House and Brenda wince. "I'm makin' an emotional investment in Dr. JAMES." The last word was said dreamily.

Brenda snorted. "You want to become Mrs. Wilson number 23? Pick a number---the nurses in oncology and maternity already got dibs on him."

Whatever else the nasal nurse was going to say, House wasn't there to hear it. He was hobbling back to Wilson's office.

Wilson was walking back to his car when he heard the unmistakable roar of a motorcycle entering the parking lot of the hotel. He immediately started chanting inside his head "Please let it NOT be House" as he nonchalantly, calmly, made his way to his car parked a few meters away.

The roaring got louder as the motorcyclist revved the engine and parked in front of Wilson's car, turning off the engine before he took off his helmet.

"Hello, JAMES," House called out to Wilson, mimicking the nasal nurse's breathy pronunciation of his first name. Wilson gave House a blank look before something kicked in his memory.

"Have you been talking to Nurse Francine?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"Oh, so Mrs. Wilson number 23 is going to be named Francine?"

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Bite me, House!" he muttered.

"Why? Do I have a reason to go Tyson on you?"

"I've got enough of funny voices for one day, House."

"Oh, ho, ho—very funny!"

House got off his bike, unsheathing his cane from the cane holder on the side of his bike. He hobbled over to Wilson, who was holding his ground. House popped open a bottle of Vicodin and popped two pills into his mouth, letting his saliva coat them slowly before swallowing them.

He didn't mince words. Wilson was resigned to telling him the truth.

"How long did you know?"

"Two weeks before she gave birth, so it's about five months..."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You'd yell at me."

"NO I WOULDN'T!"

"See!"

House ran a large hand through his hair. Wilson breathed in calmly before continuing.

"A little hard to tell WHEN the right time to tell you would come until Cameron told me she was moving back here with Christopher," he said quietly. "You were a little nuts after the ketamine wore off and the pain came back. I DID try to broach the subject about Cameron, but every time I try, you get nasty—well—NASTIER than usual."

House stared sullenly at Wilson for a long time. Wilson was about to say, "I got some nice pictures of Christopher and Cuddy!" when House softly asked,

"What room is she in?"

"Room 315," Wilson blurted out, almost without thinking. He wanted to kick himself for sort of betraying Cameron, but House decided to do it for him by delivering a smart smack of his cane on his right shin.

"Thanks."

"What'd you do that for!" Wilson yelped.

"For lying to me," House replied glibly, hobbling for the entrance to the hotel. He didn't notice when Wilson called out, "How the hell am I supposed to get my car out, House!"

House hobbled fast for Room 315, his heart thumping with exertion, with anticipation. His head was swamped with innumerable questions for Cameron. He wanted equilibrium back into his world, and after disturbing it, he felt that Cameron and Christopher might bring it back somewhat.

But first he wants some questions answered. He wants to see Cameron, talk to her---and for some reason, he wants to hold the baby in his arms again.

House stopped in front of the door at the end of the corridor.

Room 315.

He lifted his cane, using the handle to knock smartly on the door about seven times. He heard something metal slide on wood.

"House?" came Cameron's muffled cry of surprise. "What're you doing here?"

"We need to talk." House called out.

He heard her sigh on the other side of the door.

"Now's not a good time House," Cameron said loudly. "I'll see you tomorrow, around lunch..."

"No—we need to talk now, Cameron." House said, letting his voice get louder. "Open up! Don't make me embarass you in this hotel!"

A gasp.

"You wouldn't DARE!"

She should've known better.

"Oh, baby!" House yelled, letting his voice carry throughout the corridor. "I can't BUH-LEEEVE I knocked you up in one night! ONE NIGHT—woo!"

"Okay, okay, OKAY!" Cameron cried in exasperation. House heard the clatter and slide of metal on metal as Cameron unlocked the door.

"Happy now?" Cameron muttered, opening the door wide.

House couldn't say anything. His jaw dropped as he ogled Cameron's blouse, buttoned-down to reveal pale, creamy skin, a strap of a cream-colored bra...

...and little Christopher feeding from her breast.

(Its a little choppy, I know---apologies for the lateness in updating! The Muses went on vacation.)