Cameron was too afraid to open her eyes, too apprehensive of what she might see, of whether she would see anything at all.

"Welcome back." A soft voice said as she squinted into the fluorescent lights of the ICU room. Cuddy stood by her side, her eyes noticeably reddened by tears. Smiling sadly, she placed a hand on her shoulder. Cameron couldn't quite tell how injured she was, but she could feel a cast on her arm and the screams of pain inside her being edged off by morphine. Her face felt slightly swollen, as did her shoulder and chest.

I'm fairly well off… she thought. Cuddy left the room to speak with someone outside. She could see Foreman and Chase, and she assumed Wilson was keeping watch in House's room. The three… No, four… why is Wilson here?... entered. Either House is still out, or they've already talked. Smiling as best she could, she scanned the room. Chase looked mostly well kept, but he was rather hassled, and it appeared that he might have been crying. How sweet. Foreman was standing there stoically, with a doctor "I'm-smiling-so-you-think-I-care-but-I-really-have-better-things-to-be-doing" look. Wilson, on the other hand, looked as if he'd been crying extensively. He was only wearing a sweater and jeans. House's injury must have hit him hard. Chase smiled sincerely, looking kindly into her eyes, trying to avert his eyes from her wounds.

"How do you feel?" Cameron bravely forced another smile.

"Bloody awful, thanks." Nervous laughter rippled through the room, but was quickly cut short. Cuddy replaced her hands position on her shoulder.

"Allison, You were hit by a car driven by a drunk driver, and you've sustained minor and major injuries. You've broken your left arm in 4 places, and you have bruising on different parts of your body, including your face, and your chest. Most of the swelling and discoloration has died down by now." Cameron nodded.

"What about the others?" Cuddy bit her lip.

"The drunk driver wasn't wearing a seatbelt, and he was thrown into the windshield of his car. He's currently in critical condition and is being kept on life support. It's not likely he'll come off it. As for House…" Cuddy's eyes welled with tears.

"I'm sorry, Allison, we did everything we could."

Cameron was blissfully ignorant for a few seconds, and then she comprehended what Cuddy had said.

"House isn't…" Cuddy nodded slowly.

"An opportunistic piece of glass sliced his carotid artery, and he showed signs of a severe concussion. It's most likely he died instantly. By the time EMTs arrived, it was much too late."

Cameron couldn't believe her ears. House, dead? Tears began to flood her vision.

"No… No… No, it can't be…" Cuddy wiped her own tears from her eyes.

"I'm sorry, but it is. He's gone." Cameron wept miserably.

Karma, she thought, is a powerful and ruthless force. He was a sarcastic, sometimes cruel man, but although he had made himself open for once, it was too late for repentance. She ran her tongue over he dry lips, where House had kissed her. His last act. The tears fell from her cheekbones as she wished:

Why… Why couldn't this flower have the time to blossom, instead of being so brutally cut short? She felt denial creep into her vulnerable mind, but she pushed it away. This was no cruel joke, this was real. House was dead. All further thoughts of him or anything were drowned out by guilt and sadness. Sobbing openly, she thought back to the parking lot and his offer to come back to his apartment. If she had taken the offer, this would've been averted.

If I wasn't so careful, so anxious about him, he wouldn't be dead.

Wilson watched Cameron cry, and felt his own pain. If I hadn't made him go with someone else, he wouldn't be dead.

Chase paced the room. If I hadn't teased her about this date, she wouldn't have gone to lengths to make sure it wasn't. She wouldn't have turned the offer down, and he wouldn't be dead.

Cuddy felt a tear of her own roll down her cheek as she watched Cameron cry. If I hadn't allowed this to happen, he wouldn't be dead.

Foreman checked his watch. I left my coffee in the conference room, it's probably getting cold.

Cameron sniffed, and rubbed her eyes. Attempting to appear professional, she asked Cuddy calmly,

"So… what do we do?" Cuddy shook her head, looking at the floor.

"I don't know. We haven't yet been able to get through to his parents, so we can't contact them. His body has been cleaned- oh God." She sobbed, bursting into a new fit of tears. Chase walked quietly and put a hand on her shoulder to comfort her. Hiding her face from the rest of them, she moaned,

"I'm sorry, Allison, the rest of you, that you have to see this, I've known House for a long time, longer than most of you…" She glanced at Wilson. He blinked twice, hard, and sighed deeply, settling down into a chair. Cuddy recovered, and blew her nose on a tissue from her black jacket pocket.

"His body's been cleaned, and is being stored in the morgue. Funeral services are being planned, for somewhere within the next two months. We can't do much else but wait for word from his parents." Cameron drew a deep breath. It was a lot of information at a time like this.

"Okay, thank you." Beckoning Cuddy to come closer, she murmured,

"I don't want to seem rude, but can I maybe be left alone for a while, just to think?" Cuddy bit her lip and nodded.

"Anything you need, just call." Cuddy placed a pager on her bedside table. "Page me directly." Cameron smiled gently. Cuddy was amazed by her strength at this time. She knew she was having a hell of a time keeping her composure.

"Thank you very much… could I maybe try some solid food?" Cuddy nodded, and smiled. Standing up, she explained the situation to the others. Saying their condolences to her, they left. When she was sure they were gone, she broke her professional disguise. She lay there, motionless with sorrow and shock. House was dead. One night was all they had, and now he was history. The morphine blurred her feelings and her senses. She sobbed uncontrollably for what seemed like hours the sliding glass door to her room opened.

Chase walked in with a tray of food. Her stomach grumbled and she realized again how she longed for food. His hair re-done, and his tears wiped away, he set the food tray down on the bed table in front of her, and sat on a chair to her right.

"Are you feeling any better?" Cameron turned to face him, and was shocked by the look of caring on his face. He looked so kind, so… handsome. He seemed as if he could solve all of her problems right now, with just that look. Digging her fork into a piece of beef bourguignon, she replied:

"Emotionally, I'm feeling a little better. Physically, not much had changed." Chase allowed his eyes to wander over her body. She had purple, mottled marks on her neck, her shoulder, and her chest. A large plaster cast hindered her left arm. Realizing he wasn't really needed, he said,

"Would you like me to leave?" Cameron, dazed and confused, stared at him. She was vulnerable. The evening light flooded through the blinds, causing strips of light to illuminate his eyes and his lustrous hair.

"Don't. Don't leave me." Chase furrowed his brow.

"Okay… Is everything fine?" She reached her good hand out and touched his face.

"Everything's perfect. Almost perfect. Just one more thing…" Mixed feelings ran through both of them. Feeling his unshaven chin, he reminded her of House. Sadness, guilt, and an overwhelming feeling of being lost, all blended with lust, coursed through her veins. She was drifting. He was an anchor. Running her hand through his hair, she pulled him towards her. Chase's brain said no, his mind said a resounding yes.

"I don't think I should-"Cameron cut him off.

"Will you shut up? I'm trying to cope here…" She kissed him, running her hands through his hair, and down his back. Chase was shocked by her earnestness after such a tragedy. The kiss was passionate, but empty and cold. He needed to get out of this situation. Fast. He tapped a bruise on her shoulder, causing her to recoil in dull pain. Glaring at him with such hatred it scared him, she spat:

"Leave." He did so, rubbing his face with his hands and attempting to fix his hair to a normal state. Cameron slumped back into her bed, crying, thinking of how much she was a disgrace she was to House's memory.

Hours Later…

It was dark. The hall was empty. This was her chance.

Room 238, she repeated to herself. She had overheard his room number in a nurse's discussion. Exiting her bed, she shuffled painfully through the halls, gathering strange glances from the few doctors in the hall. They recognized her, though, so they figured they knew what she was doing. Checking her balance on her IV stand, finding the room she wanted, she pressed the wheelchair access button, the door sliding open without a creak. The man in the bed was cut beyond belief, but she steeled her face and looked away towards the many machines keeping him alive. Finding the main power button on the life support controller, she "pulled the plug". The pads on the man's chest stopped beating his heart, the respirator stopped sending oxygen to his lungs, and the dialysis supporting his kidneys whirred to a stop. Leaving the room with a bitter face, she heard the familiar flat line tone she had become accustomed to, and thought:

Life may not be fair, but it is just.