What happens next is commitment, not change, because House is right and Cameron knows it: people don't change, even after they accidentally produce a child with sandy brown hair and bright blue eyes, even after they almost lose their hearts when they almost lose that child. People don't change; they adjust, maybe.
At nine o'clock one evening near the end of June, Cameron opens the door to her apartment expecting to find the nanny watching TV with the sound off while Baby Amber sleeps. Instead, she encounters House (who still doesn't live there, not really, not officially) sitting on the sofa with his left arm wrapped around Amber, his right hand gently holding a nebulizer mask steady on her face. The nebulizer itself and House's right leg rest on Cameron's coffee table.
"Hey," she says, dropping her overstuffed purse on the floor and sitting beside House and their daughter.
"Hey hey," is his response.
"I thought you were at the hospital."
"Taub and Kutner are handling the case. Fifty bucks says it's lupus." He smiles faintly and offers her a wink. "I figured she wouldn't sleep if she had to inhale all this crap too late at night."
"Thank you … I got stuck with two positive ANAs tonight, and even though in my new job it usually is lupus … Amber hasn't been wheezing, has she?"
"No," he says, removing the mask from her face and passing her to her mother. "We didn't need the Albuterol tonight. She's been good. We had a long talk."
"You and our seven-month-old?"
"The kid says that she's tired of perusing Mom's somewhat lame collection of medical journals and books and would be much more intellectually stimulated if Mom merged her collection with Dad's far more awesome one. Also, she wants a new Dobro."
"At this rate, she'll graduate from med school before her second birthday." But Cameron knows what he's suggesting: he wants for them to but a house, or at least a bigger apartment, together.
She won't acknowledge it because only fifteen months earlier she'd been looking at houses with Chase.
House looks into his daughter's eyes and gives her a mock handshake, using one of his fingers to move her tiny hand up and down. "Good talk tonight. You're right about the three of us and all our stuff living together as long as you promise not to chew on my guitars."
"Greg, she's not a puppy."
"You might also be right," he says, continuing to address Amber, "about wanting to be the only kid in kindergarten whose parents are married to each other."
"I'm … going to put her to bed," Cameron says, struggling to conceal her surprise.
Though she's seen him devote more and more of himself to Amber in recent weeks, part of Cameron still won't trust House to commit.
"Amber said something interesting to me before," House says when Cameron returns to the living room.
"She's sure talkative for a seven-month-old who can't talk."
"She said people don't change."
"Really? I can name at least four."
"According to Amber, Mom's wombat of an ex-fiancé would have left her anyway. She was lucky it didn't happen after the wedding. He didn't change. Leaving isn't changing."
Before Cameron can come up with a response, House jumps in again. "Dad, meanwhile, is much more awesome," he says, "because even though he's an ass, he would always have stuck by anyone willing to unconditionally stick by him."
"Which is, ultimately, narcissistic," Cameron tells him.
"Narcissism is a conscious need to drag everyone who loves you down with you. I drag, but not consciously."
"Don't be so clinical," she says.
"At least Doc Wombat didn't tell surgeons to remove a piece of your leg while you were in a coma."
"Oh." Cameron's voice trembles a bit. She knows he's just playing the 'my ex had a piece of my leg cut out' card, but she wants to rest her hand where it happened, maybe hold him for a minute.
"See?" House says. "You are fighting the overwhelming need to take care of me that you've always had."
She retracts her hand further as if to prevent herself from reaching out.
"When we were in the hospital with Amber," House continues, "Wilson told me I had to change and commit. I'm not going to change for you and wind up resenting you and I'm not going to let you change for me and resent me. Wilson of all people should know that change leads to resentment."
Now she lets herself lean over and massage his right leg through his jeans. "What are you doing?" he asks.
"Not changing."
"Good," he says, even though he's visibly uncomfortable. "Live with me."
"Okay," Cameron answers.
"Marry me," he suggests. "I won't leave." It's the most unassuming promise that anyone has ever made to her.
She says yes to that too, even though she's unsure (and certain he's aware of that). Though she loves him now for reasons different from the reasons she had for loving him three years ago, she has not changed. She wants to make it better for him.
People don't change.
They adjust.