A/N: Sorry this is so short, but I wrote and rewrote this chapter and this was the one I liked. Hope you guys do too, please let me know! And just as a reminder, the playlist for this story is still up and running and newly updated. The link for it is on my profile page, just remember to delete the spaces.

Disclaimer: They still won't let my buy him.

Desire

Cameron clenched as she pushed the blinds down again. Not seeing what she was looking for, she picked up the phone that had been laying in her lap.

"House, you had damn well better be on your way to pick me up! My flight leaves in 2 hours and since this whole thing is your fault anyway, you agreed to drive me to the airport. Where the hell are you? You're 45 minutes late! It's you fault I'm going to this damn conference anyway!" Cameron finished yelling into the phone and shut it off, hurling it at the cushion next to her. She waited another 15 minutes and sighed. Grabbing her bags, she drove herself to the airport. She plopped down in the hard, unforgiving chairs that the coach passengers had to wait in and check her cell again. No messages. She shut it off and pulled out her laptop. When she finally boarded, she resisted the urge to check her phone again.

House groaned and turned over, his hand automatically reaching out to quell the burning ache in his thigh. He mumbled inaudibly into his pillow and stretched, slamming his palm down on the alarm clock that had been bleeping at him for the better part of the morning.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Standing outside of the airport, Cameron paused, letting the sun caress her face. Basking in the warmth for a few moments, she cursed to herself quietly. The weather has to be this good when I can't enjoy it... She was startled out of her reverie when a passenger trying to cross the lane rolled over her foot with her suitcase. Staring at the back of the oblivious woman, she frowned harder and decided to find a cab and her hotel then proceed to get very, very drunk.

An hour later, she was sitting on her plush bed in the Crescent Hotel. Cuddy, empathizing for her, had booked her in a hotel so luxurious, Cameron was sure her room would have cost upwards of 600 a night had the coordinators of the conference not arranged a group rate. Cameron threw open the curtains to expose the room to the sunny winter day and ordered room service. She jumped as the phone rang again, seconds after she had hung it up..

"This is Dr. Cameron."

"Cameron, you made it. Good."

"Hello Dr. Cuddy, yes I did. The flight was fine and this hotel is incredible!"

"Well, enjoy it. I'm sure a break from House is just what all of his fellows needed. Chase and Foreman have been put on other rotations and House is supposed to be doing clinic work for the week."

"Well, I'm glad to get away for a while, even if it is just for a week."

"Exactly. As doctors we take what we can get in terms of time off. And who knows? Maybe you'll meet someone," Cuddy said awkwardly as the conversation quickly descended into girl talk.

Cameron winced slightly at the secret House and her had been pretty good about keeping so far. "Yeah. Who knows? Thanks again Dr. Cuddy. I should go, they're having a dinner for all the attendees. Have a good week." Cameron hung up the phone, as her room service arrived.

A bottle of wine and two servings of exceptionally good Chinese food later, she remembered her phone was still off. She glanced forlornly at her cell resting on the nightstand and decided not to turn it on. Cuddy obviously knew how to reach her if she needed to, she rationalized, anger churning in her stomach as she grabbed the house phone to call for more wine. And dessert. Dessert was definitely needed.

She was staring intently as the scene that was unfolding before her. Westley and Vizzini were matched in a battle of wits when she heard a soft rapping at her door. She looked towards it in confusion, and it knocked again.

"Door?" She asked it. Getting up slowly, she crept towards the door. "Door? Hello?"

"Room service?" She unclenched and exhaled and quickly stumbled across the room, throwing open the door.

"Hi! Thanks," she mumbled, stepping back into the room. "Come on in, I just need to find my purse." He nodded in thanks, and stepped a few feet into the room.

"This movie sucks," she declared, holding out a ten dollar bill for the man. "I mean, how can he be mad at her for being engaged to someone else? It's not like it's been six months! Years! Years she waited before she ended up engaged to the prince. She thought he was dead! It's not like he came back when he could have, he stayed away to make his fortune! And they're perfect for each other," she trailed off with a whisper. "He's there for her. He would never forget to pick her up like he promised, especially not after he shipped her off for a week." She sobered up a bit as she felt the tears hot on her cheeks and looked up at the embarrassed worker and apologized, fishing out another five dollar bill from her purse. With a smile, he told her not to worry and left the room.

Cameron sat on her bed for a moment and fumed; she turned towards her phone. Glaring at the offending object, she reached forward and flipped it open. Turning it on, she placed the phone back on the nightstand, making sure the volume was up. A few seconds later it rattled against the hard wood, telling her she had multiple voicemails and text messages. She bypassed them all and pressed #2 on her speed dial, and took a long draw from her overfilled glass of wine for courage.

There was only time for half a ring when he picked up, breathless. "Allison, I-"

"You're paying for my airport parking bill." She clicked the phone shut and looked at it in disbelief. She hastily pressed redial and blurted out "I didn't mean to do that!" She waited for his response and started to worry when all she heard was deep, even breaths coming through her speaker. "Greg?"

"I overslept." He muttered quickly.

"You know, I've been sitting all day, at the airport, in a plane, in my hotel room getting drunk, blaming myself for this. I've been to clingy, you don't want to be with me anymore and this is how you're telling me, I've pushed you away, blah blah blah!"

"Allison-"

"Nope. My turn. It was stupid to oversleep. But it happens. That's not what I'm mad about anymore. You were right in telling me I should have asked someone else. That's fine. But you sent me away on this stupid trip, and didn't even bother to tell me about it! I had to hear about it from Cuddy yesterday. And now, I have an empty tree in my apartment, I can't water it so it doesn't really matter that I can't decorate it for Christmas, it'll be dead by the time I get back anyway! I just called to tell you don't bother contacting me this week unless it's an emergency." Cameron drew the phone away from her ear slowly, the image of it blurred by the tears now flowing freely. After finishing off her last glass of wine and ice cream sundae, she changed the channel to some mundane movie she had seen numerous times and got ready for bed. As she turned down the volume, the hum of the dialogue and glow from the television mixed with the alcohol, and lulled her to sleep as she clutched an extra pillow in her arms.

She woke up early the next morning, groaning at the pounding bass line that was her headache. She took a few ibuprofen and checked her phone. One new text and one new call. As she pulled on her workout clothes, she decided to leave her phone in her room the rest of the week, figuring anyone who needed her could call the hotel.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

As he tried calling her back again, he rolled his eyes when it went straight to voicemail. It was off. House grunted as he threw his cane at the wall, deriving no satisfaction from the loud thunk it made as wood met wood. He picked up the phone for what seemed like the millionth time that night and dialed a familiar number.

"Hello?" Came the groggy voice. "House, it's one in the morning. What?"

"Wilson, I fucked up."

"You sent Cameron on a conference because she was bugging you a month ago. Yeah, you did."

"You sound tired."

"I am."

"What do I do?"

"You know what to do. Goodnight, House. Lunch tomorrow, we'll talk." House frowned as Wilson hung up the phone. He downed the last of his scotch and sent Allison a quick text message, limping cane-less towards his bedroom. He sighed as he sat on the edge of his bed, leaning back so he could swing his leg up. He stopped in mid swing and slowly retrieved his phone from the other room. Staring at it, he realized he had no one he could call and discuss this with. What if she's given up on you? The little voice in the back of his mind taunted him. It was only a matter of time, House. She waited for you for so long. What did you think she would do when she found out who you really were? He told himself to shut the fuck up and got into bed, staring dully at the ceiling while trying to reason with himself.

He turned over cautiously, dreading what the clock would tell him; 2:30am was what it cheerfully announced. Groaning, he reached to turn on his electric blanket, making sure it was tucked around his thigh. He eyed her usual pillow cautiously, tentatively grabbing it and bringing it to his nose. Closing his eyes, he inhaled, hoping to be calmed by her scent. Nothing. He had washed his sheets since the last time she had slept over. Chucking it across the room, he opened the drawer on his nightstand and took out a a few NyQuil so he could sleep and stop thinking.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

During her workout, she had convinced herself to end the cell phone strike and check her text messages as soon as she got back to her room. As expected, all were messages asking her to call, except for the latest one, sent in the middle of the night.

I don't know what else to say other than I'm sorry.

-Greg

She smiled slightly, and decided to text him back.

My flight lands in Princeton at 9:15 Friday night.

Allison

She smiled uneasily. Hopefully he would get the hint. She quickly shed her clothes and stepped into the hot shower, letting the pulsating shower head massage her back. She reached back to turn the heat up higher and closed her eyes, letting the stress of the past few days go. Opening her eyes, she frowned as black spots obscured her vision. She quickly became disoriented and reached out her hand to steady herself, attempting to feel her way out of the bathroom. She fell to her knees as she stumbled through the door frame and passed out.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Well, I know I'm mean, but I'm not that mean. You guys know me. Just trust me. :)

Okay, so the title doesn't exactly match up to what I'm sure everyone thought it did. But I thought the song fit. The player has been updated with this song, so heck the link for it on my profile if you wish.

You know me. You know my way in.
You just can't show me, but God I'm praying,
That you'll find me, and that you'll see me,
That you run and never tire.
Desire.

Desire – Ryan Adams