Over the next few weeks, House observed Cameron to the point where it was bordering on obsession. She had her good days, when she'd grin and even joke around with his fellows. And she had her bad days, when she'd snap and snarl like an angry bear being poked through the bars of its cage.

It got to the point where he could tell when she'd spoken with Richard and when she hadn't. When she had, she would stride along with her chin held high. When she hadn't, she'd walk slowly, comfortably, and stop to smile and give a hello to the patients. It was one particular day that he finally broke down and confronted her.

When she walked into his office, he drew the blinds. She gave him a confused look with a quirked eyebrow. "I don't want kinky office sex," she said flatly.

"I do, but not right now," he retorted, leaning against the door. "You're quiet today."

"It's the flat shoes; they don't warn people when I'm coming like the heels do."

House smirked. "You're not being your usual rich-bitch self. It's disconcerting."

"I don't know how many times I'm going to have to repeat myself and tell you that it isn't your concern," she responded coldly, arms slightly behind her as she propped herself against his desk. "I'm in the middle of a divorce; it's difficult. That's really all you need to know."

"Have you talked to Wilson?"

"We have dinner scheduled for a few nights from now." She picked up his over-sized tennis ball and tossed it slowly between her hands.

"So you'll talk to him, but not me."

"I'm sorry, have you been through a divorce?" she asked sweetly, setting the ball back down and quirking her head to the side. "Should I be coming to you for advice on how to handle this? Because as far as I know, the most you've had is a lover who left you. Wilson's a pro at divorces by now."

"Oh, burn." He pushed off of the wall and walked toward her. "I'm concerned."

"You're not," she brushed off his comment with a shrug. "You see this as just another puzzle that you've simply got to solve. I hate to have to be the one to break this to you, but you aren't solving this one, House. Deal with it."

"Why did you marry him?" he asked suddenly, eyes narrowed in curiosity. "Why did you marry that guy? He wasn't dying."

Cameron frowned. "I married him because I wanted to," she snapped coldly. "Not that it's any of your business, but I don't fall in love strictly with people who are dying or horribly wounded."

"Could have fooled me. What was wrong with him? What made you want him?" House continued to question. He was breaking her resolve… He had to be, or she wouldn't be answering his questions. She'd storm off in ice bitch mode and return later with more menial tasks for him to do until she felt that she'd punished him enough. Oh, he knew her game by now.

"He was attractive," she said, eyes boring into his as she sneered angrily at him. "He was sweet. He was great in bed." And then, the final blow. "He was clean-shaven and could walk just fine without the aid of a cane."

House was stunned, to say the least. "…Ouch," he responded with a glare.

"If your curiosity is satiated, I'll be going back to work now. Your patient needs your immediate attention." She dropped a pager on his desk. "You left your pager in my office, or I would have simply paged you to the room."

She made to leave for the door, but House stepped in front of her to stop her. "If you don't tell me, I'm just going to get it from Wilson after you two have your little dinner date."

"Fine by me. He's not getting all of the information, either." She side-stepped him and strode out of his office.

As it turned out, Wilson really hadn't gotten all of the information. He'd discovered that the marriage turned sour, but he didn't know why. Cameron would dodge the question every time. He had managed to get down to the nitty-gritty of the divorce settlement, and told House that Cameron was milking this guy for his money. But he still didn't know why.

House said that there had to be something else going on; Cameron wasn't the type to milk things for all that they were worth. Perhaps she was out for revenge? After all, she'd changed too much since she'd finished her fellowship with him that he supposed he couldn't put anything past her now. Not until he re-learned the things that made Cameron who she was.

Wilson commented that House was getting too into this for his own good; that he'd either start falling for Cameron or hating her. He disagreed, earning a good frown from his friend.

Late one night, as he was researching for his current case, Cameron came into his office. He checked the clock and then gave her a small frown. "You should be in bed right about now, shouldn't you?"

"As your advisor, I sort of have to stay here until you leave," she told him, plopping into a chair and covering her mouth as she yawned.

"Have everything worked out with Richie Rich?"

Cameron gave House a flat look. "I specifically recall asking you to stop with those questions."

"And I specifically recall not giving a damn about your requests," he responded with a smile. "C'mon, Cameron. Let me in on the big secret."

"No. Why are you still here?"

He scowled and turned to his tomes of journals, mind focused on work once more. "I'm trying to figure out what the patient has," he muttered, flipping a page. "None of the symptoms add up correctly; it's ridiculous."

Cameron glanced over at the whiteboard and frowned. She stood, walking toward his desk and reading over his shoulder. "You don't want this journal," she murmured thoughtfully, closing it and searching through the rest of the books on his desk until she found the right one. "The Journal of Diagnostic Medicine is great for a read, but try the Diagnostic Guide for this case."

"I haven't used that thing in years," he said with a snort of laughter.

She leaned over, flipping through the pages. Her breast just barely brushed his arm and he watched her attentively. That little white blouse she was wearing was cute, to be sure. Probably extremely expensive, too. He could make out the outline of her bra; thin straps, maybe silk or satin. Definitely not cotton.

"Here," she said, pointing to an article.

He slowly moved his eyes to the article. "Damn. You're good."

"I've grown a bit over the years, Dr. House," she answered with a self-satisfied smile. She moved to go back to her seat, but he took hold of her wrist.

"How long were you married to him?" he asked, eyes searching hers.

She hesitated and dropped her gaze to where his hand held her wrist. "Six years. I was married to him for six years."

"How long did you know him before you married?" he continued questioning.

"I really don't see how-"

"Just answer the question," he bit out smoothly.

She frowned and pulled her wrist out of his hand. "No. Go home; there's nothing more you can do tonight."

"I want to know-"

"I don't care." Again, her chin went up a notch and her back straightened to the flexibility of a wooden rod. "I can't leave until you do."

"I'm not leaving until you answer the question."

"Good thing I have a change of clothes in my locker and a comfy couch in my office, then." She sat in the comfy chair opposite his desk and crossed her legs at her ankles, giving him a small, patient smile.

He sat back in his chair and returned the smile. "Oh, I can wait all night, Dr. Cameron." When she remained silent, giving him a small sigh, he smirked. "All you have to do is tell me how long you knew him before you tied the knot. It's not even that personal of a question."

"That doesn't change the fact that it remains none of your business. What does it matter how long I knew him beforehand? The point is that we're divorcing now; before has ceased to be important."

"You can't possibly live your entire life like that," he replied with a small laugh of disbelief. "Not even with your new level o' bitchitude."

She grinned. "Not my entire life," she admitted. "But it's a perfect way to live it through this divorce."

He gave her a thoughtful look and frowned. "Fine. I'm getting out of here for the night." He stood and grabbed his knapsack, throwing it over his shoulder. "Come for a drink with me. We'll be fun-loving colleagues."

She stood, as well, straightening her suit as she did so. "I … don't think so. I have some things to take care of, and-"

"You can take one night off, Doctor," he said with a roll of his eyes. "C'mon. Drinks. For old times' sake."

Cameron smiled. "We never got drinks in the 'old times' you're talking about," she reminded him. "I distinctly remember chasing you around like a lovesick puppy until I finally gave up and moved on to bigger and better things."

"Ooh, ouch." He shivered and adjusted his knapsack. "Then chalk it up to new times. What'll it hurt?"

She knew he had a point, but that didn't mean she had to acknowledge it. "Maybe some other time." She turned to leave, but his next comment stopped her.

"Scared?"

She stopped and turned on her heel. "Hardly."

"Intimidated?"

"In your dreams."

"Then let's get some drinks."

He watched the emotions cross her face: trepidation, uncertainty, and finally, that sort of arrogance that she'd managed to build. "Let me get my purse."

It was two hours later that the two of them sat in a booth at a local bar, doubled over in laughter. Neither had imbibed enough alcohol to excuse their guffaws, but they seemed to be having a genuinely good time as they shared stories of the past ten years.

"So, this patient comes in with this huge afro," Cameron said, her laughter dying down slowly as she pantomimed an afro with her hands. "And there's so much hair that he may as well have a fifteen-pound hat on his head. So he comes in and looks at me and says, 'Doc, I'm telling you. The headaches just won't go away!'" Her laughter returned full-force, along with House's. "And I tell him that maybe he should cut off that massive growth on his head. He thought I was talking about a tumor!"

They laughed together, House shaking his head and wishing that Cameron had been lying about the idiot of a patient. "I've got that beat," he told her with a nod. "I have definitely got that beat."

"Oh, bring it," she challenged with a bright smile.

"Old lady comes into the clinic complaining of shortness of breath and chest pain," he started with a grin. "So I tell her that I'm going to take her pulse and whatnot. She starts gasping for air as soon as I touch her. Before I know it, she has me pinned to the clinic window, begging me to just 'take me now, before my husband returns!'" he exclaimed, mimicking the old woman's voice. "I had to call orderlies to get her off of me."

Cameron laughed and covered her face with her hands. "Was she all wrinkly?" she asked, gasping for breath due to her laughter.

"Wrinkly as a raisin." He took a drink of his beer and licked the foam off of his lips. "So I've got to know… Why come back to PPTH?"

She shrugged and took a delicate sip of her daiquiri. "They offered me a better job. Over at Princeton Main, I was second-in-command to this completely chauvinistic bastard. Cuddy offered me not only head of Internal Medicine, but a seat on the board of directors. I couldn't possibly turn it down."

"It … didn't have anything to do with what's-his-name?"

Cameron frowned. "Richard. No, it didn't." She waved the waiter over and asked for water. "Not every decision I ever make has to revolve around my spouse. Ex-spouse."

"Hey, just asking," House responded, holding up his hands in surrender. "No need to go cold."

She sighed and shrugged. "I can't help but get defensive. I'm sure you understand. How would you like it if I came at you with a barrage of questions about Stacy?"

"Fair enough." He sat back, fingers tapping on the tabletop quietly. "I do have to say that I never expected you to marry rich. I didn't think you were so shallow."

A severe frown settled on her face. "I wasn't being shallow when I married him. I genuinely loved him. Things just went rotten; that happens with some marriages. And I didn't know he was rich until after he'd proposed," she said with a quirked eyebrow, downing the rest of her drink.

"Really?" House asked, surprise evident in his voice.

"Mmm." She set her drink down and dabbed at her upper lip with a napkin. "Richard was a trust fund baby. His parents raised him to keep his fortune a secret until he'd found the right woman. So … he found me. He proposed and I met his family two weeks after. It was … quite a surprise."

"So you married a guy who based your relationship with him on a complete lie?"

Cameron's brow furrowed in confusion. "No. Why do you say that?"

"He lied to you. He didn't tell you that he was rich and he let you believe that he was something that he wasn't."

"So?" Cameron asked with a small laugh. "I understand him wanting to keep it a secret; women would be after him for his money if they knew how rich he was. I wanted him for who he was, not what he had."

"And he didn't make you sign a pre-nup?" House asked skeptically.

"House, he already knew I didn't want his money. Not to mention the fact that, being a well-respected doctor, I make plenty of my own. Besides…" She took a sip of the water that was set down in front of her. "Neither of us wanted a pre-nup. Of course, that's why we're in the mess that we're in now, but I suppose there isn't much that can be done for that now."

"You seem to take it pretty well," he pointed out smoothly.

She gave him a cool stare, knowing what he was asking without him having to actually say anything. "There were plenty of reasons for the divorce," she said simply. "It just wasn't working out and we both realized it. I'm not even taking a quarter of his money, if that's what you're implying."

"You know better than that, Cameron," House drawled, twirling his glass slowly in a circle. "If I wanted to say something to you, I wouldn't imply; I'd just say it. I don't think you wanted him for his money, even after you knew he had it. You just don't have that sort of personality." He paused, studying her with narrowed, inquisitive eyes. "I do think that you're gouging him now, though. Whatever he did to make you initiate a divorce, it hit hard."

Cameron took in a quick breath and her lips tightened. "What makes you think I initiated it?"

He smirked and took a slow drink of his beer. "You wouldn't let him walk all over you; not with the way you've turned out."

"You don't know a thing about-"

"Don't try and play me for stupid, Cameron," he scolded. "I can read what you're not saying. You initiated the divorce, and for a very good reason. I just want to know what it is." When she opened her mouth to retort, he rushed forth with his speech. "Of course, I know you're not going to open up and tell me willingly. But I'll get it out of you eventually." He gave her a mockingly sweet smile and finished his beer. "I always get it out of you, eventually."