CHAPTER EIGHT

Thursday night of the same week…

"Cam'ron…Alli…Ca…" House's words were choked with coughs; he was barely able to breath, much less call out for her in his dream. His throat was dry and hurt with each sound he made.

"Where are…you? Cam! Answer me, damnit!"

"House, HOUSE!"

"I hear you…where ARE you? I need you!"

"House, wake UP!"

House felt something tug at his arm and he groaned, not wanting to wake up but he had to find Cameron.

SMACK! Something flat and sharp slapped House in his face and he jerked his head in the direction it came from and reached up to his face.

"Ow, what th…"

"House, get up! There's a fire!"

Cameron grabbed him harder by the arm and pulled him up. House started to cough heavily and finally opened his eyes. Cameron was in her nightshirt, standing beside the bed, panic written all over her face.

"Fire?"

House looked around the room and could see smoke pouring in through the vent on the floor and stood in a flash, grunting with pain as he walked to his cane and grabbed his jacket with his vicodin in the pocket. He looked down at the boxers and t-shirt and realized with dread he wouldn't have enough time to change clothes before they left. He grabbed his pants and shirt as well as Cameron's sweats and turned back to her.

"What are you doing? We have to GO!" she screamed, taking a few steps closer to the door.

House's first thought was Cameron because her mobility had slowed tremendously since she barely passed the middle of the third trimester.

"Cam…ok, hold on," he said, not that he didn't want to get out of there, but to asses the situation and think of the smartest thing to do; not to get him out safely but to get her out safely.

"Shut UP and come ON!" she cried urgently.

She pulled him out into the living room as hard as she could, and considering her condition House was impressed at the arm strength she had. Cameron turned toward the window and saw

smoke billowing around in the early morning wind in dark, perilous whirls. She grabbed her purse, which was all she could really take herself, and handed a photo album to House to carry. He grabbed onto her arm and led her to the door, stopping and feeling the door for any heat.

"It's not hot. Come on."

"Are…are you sure? Is it even warm…"

House wasn't even listening to her when he opened the door. Smoke drifted into the apartment, but it wasn't heavy smoke by any means. He reached behind him, grabbed Cameron by the waist and led her out into the hallway.

"Where are the stairs?"

"This way," she said as she pulled him with her.

When they reached the stairwell door House opened it and heavier smoke flew into their faces, causing him to cough and her to cover her mouth with the clothes House handed to her. They took a few steps in and almost ran into an elderly man that was slowly and painfully making his way down to the landing where they'd just stepped out on.

"It's…" he muttered, having difficulty taking in a breath from the descent down. "…on the fourth floor."

"Mr. Matthews, we only have one more floor. Can you (she broke into a throaty cough) make it one more flight?"

"Yeah…yeah…"

She reached out and grabbed Mr. Matthews' arm and helped him to the top of the next flight as House stood behind her and impatiently waited for them to take one step at a time. He kept a close eye on Cameron and was always in easy reach if she stumbled; he wasn't too concerned about the man, though, as sad as that sounded.

They reached the bottom step and just as they stepped onto the landing a fireman forced the door in and helped the three out – well, he helped Cameron out first then another fireman helped Mr. Matthews, with House following closely behind.

The fireman threw blankets over House and Cameron (Mr. Matthews wandered off in search of his friends) and escorted them to a curb on a far end of the parking lot, zig-zagging past fire engines and over water hoses draped on the concrete. They asked each of them if they were okay and when Cameron said she was, the firemen hollered for a paramedic and oxygen just in case before they headed back to the complex to save other residents and battle the blaze.

Shortly after that the paramedic set the oxygen tank on the concrete and assisted her to sit down on the curb. He turned on the tank and put the mask over her face, allowing her to breathe clean air. House took the opportunity to quickly change into his clothes before he sat down slowly and painfully beside her. He dug in his pocket and pulled out two vicodin, dry swallowing them. The EMT told them to take it easy and he'd be back shortly.

After they caught their breath and covered their feet as best as they could with the blankets, they looked up at the apartment complex and saw how bad the fire really was: deep red, white and whirls of light blue flared out of the apartment window two floors directly above Cameron's, the red brick chalked with black above and beside the window. A hook and ladder engine eased its way to the window to get a direct hit into the window to dampen the blaze.

Cameron shivered and leaned against House for warmth. He put his arm around her under his own blanket and rubbed her right shoulder to generate heat; she laid her head on his shoulder and tried to stop shivering.

"Wow," she mumbled quietly.

"Yeah, wow," he repeated. "Gimme me a hit of that, will ya?"

She looked at him and smiled, took off the mask and put it over his mouth and inhaled deeply several times.

They were silent the next thirty minutes while they watched the firemen fight the blaze. Water poured heavily from the fourth floor window onto the floors below, including Cameron's. They had to break her window to get access below, and she buried her eyes into House's shoulder to avoid witnessing it.

"Oh, God," she'd whispered in his ear.

House held her tighter against him, put his left hand over her stomach and whispered back, "Guess you have to come live with me, now."

HOUSE MD HOUSE MD HOUSE MD

Tuesday of the same week, Wilson had the unfortunate privilege of telling Hannah's parents that her MRI showed water on her brain, that she indeed had Alexander's disease and that even if they drained it, the prognosis wasn't good; it would only return. His heart broke when he told Hannah that because of the rapid progression of the disease, she only had about six months to live.

Wilson didn't have the courage to tell Debra, though; he just kept telling her they were still looking for the cause. But by Thursdayy, Wilson went home and finally told Debra, who broke down and cried for a good ten minutes. Wilson held her and rocked her until her sobs became softer and she started to get control of herself again, but she never let go of the hold she had on him.

"James, make love to me," she whispered, so softly he wasn't sure if he heard her correctly.

He pulled her away from him and looked into her eyes, wiping her face of tears and tried himself to not cry, although his eyes were wet. By the softness and want in her eyes, he knew instantly what she said, and what it meant.

"Oh, God, Debra…I've missed you," he said, his voice soft and sweet to her ears.

Wilson stood up and turned to Debra, took her hand and helped her to stand. She melted into his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck, while he put his arms around her waist, their hips meeting and lustily begging for more. Their breath grew as their cheeks met and Wilson kissed her neck softly.

She pulled away from him and took him into her mouth, their lips pressing hard and passionately, noises emitting from their throats as they hungered for the other, their arms tangled as they grasped the other.

They tripped over their feet as they quickly undressed the other in between kissing and were naked by the time they reached the bed, leaving a trail of clothes from the living room. Debra twisted them so she was against the bed and pulled Wilson down on the bed on top of her. It happened so swiftly he was taken off guard and was afraid he'd land on her scar and hurt her.

"Oh, Ja…"

They made love for hours that night, touching, kissing, tasting, smelling the other until they were exhausted and lay beside the other staring at the ceiling as they tried to catch their breath, all the while keeping an ear open if the baby cried out.

"James…I…I don't want to leave you…" she whispered.

"Good, because I'm not going anywhere, either," Wilson answered, rolling over and threw his arm around her waist, burying his face in her shoulder.

"I love you, Deb," he whispered.

"I love you…" She was interrupted by the phone ringing. "Oh, god, who in the hhh…don't get it," she begged.

"It might be…man! It's 2:30!" He rolled over to the other side and answered the phone with a grunted, "Hello?"

"Jimmy, we need you," House said, his voice quivered as if he had a sudden chill.

"House, what's wrong?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sun-House/Deb went to dinner
Mon-diagnosing Hannah
Tue-found Hannah had Alex disease
Thur-fire...it's all the same week.