Disclaimed.

For a few minutes, they all just sat in silence, each lost in thoughts of their own. That is until they heard a sharp tone from the operating room, and everyone seemed to be rushing around. Right as they placed the paddles on House's chest, the door opened and Foreman walked in.

The four doctors in the theatre felt as if they were living a cliche as they crowded the window and time stood still. Paddles were charged and House's back arched off the operating table as electricity coursed through his broken body.

One minute.

Two minutes.

"Charge!"

"Clear!"

Arch.

Then a beep. Two beeps. A steady pattern and a collective sigh of almost relief. Chase wiped his sweat soaked brow with the back of his hand. Setting down the paddles he began closing House up. There was a heartbeat but what was waiting for House when he awoke?

Groaning, he opened his eyes a slit.

Ack, light. Ow my...everything. What happened?

Opening his eyes a crack more, House tried to survey his surroundings as best he could without moving any part of his body. He was in the hospital. Uncomfortable, and blinded by the white walls. And there in the chair was...Cameron. Again.

He shouldn't be surprised but he was.

There she was, curled up in the chair, asleep. She was sitting sideways, one arm between her head and the back of the chair. The other barely holding on to, what else, Pride and Prejudice. He gloated to himself.

Ha. I knew she was a Jane Austen girl.

As groggy and sore as he was, he still found it in him to deny to himself how badly he wished she was in the bed with him. Curled gently against his own body, one arm draped carelessly over his chest, the other holding the hand he had wrapped around her. He could hold the book and read to her until they both fell asleep, or just until the quiet comfort of each other's presence was better than a plot they both knew so well. Rolling his eyes at his girlish thoughts, he tried to call her name. His throat was raspy and dry, so a slight sigh is all that came out. Lucky she was a light sleeper.

"House? You're awake! I've been so worried! I mean we...we all have been worried. Hold on, let me page everyone. They'll want to know you're awake."

He watched her rush to the phone as a cold panic came over him. What did they know?

"Wait." He forced it out, and she heard the nerves in his voice. Freezing with her hand on the phone, she turned to him.

"House? They need to know you're up."

Thinking quickly, he whispered, "Water."

A tender simper traced her mouth as she walked to his bedside. Holding the straw to his mouth, she knew how much asking for even this small favor killed him. Gregory House was not a man who EVER needed help.

Swallowing a small sip of water, he found it easier to speak.

"What happened?"

"Different people know different parts. I know it was your dad that landed you here. So do Cuddy and Wilson. But Wilson was there when it happened, so only he knows the full story. What do you remember?"

"Don't you...ever...ever...call me by my name again boy...show some God damn respect!" He pulled his fist back and swung at his now adult son.

House cleared his throat.

"I think I fell into the table." He looked Cameron in the eye. It wasn't a TOTAL lie...he DID fall. After his Dad knocked him around a bit.

Look her in the eye first and she won't know you have anything to hide.

"You fell huh...are you sure?"

"You think I hit my head that hard?"

"House...I know it was your Dad...what I don't know is why you won't admit it."

Licking his lips he looked away.

"Well obviously, oh in-observant one, because I don't want people to know. And here I thought I had you trained so well."

"Anyone who thinks you turned out the way you did without any physical help from a parent is too stupid to know you. You have all the classic signs. Adult rebellion, problem with authority figures, keeping your emotions to yourself, hell, even pushing everyone away and retreating into yourself. You are a textbook abuse case. Why haven't you gotten help? Found someone to talk to?"

"I have. His name is Jack Daniel's. He's a great listener. Probably because he doesn't talk back."

Mournfully, Cameron pursed her lips together and picked up the phone.

"Yeah House, that's healthy."

He just closed his eyes and turned his head. Couldn't she see he was ashamed? That he had been weak enough to let that happen? Embarrassed about being swatted by his father until hot tears flowed silently from tight-shut eyes as another stinging blow fell across his bottom, or back, or legs. Why didn't she see that?

She hung up the phone and crossed her arms.

"They're on their way. Probably be here any second now."

A few seconds of silence.

Cameron watched his face as he battled himself beneath his lids. Her gaze falling into her lap, he spoke.

"I did tell someone. Partly. Wilson knew. Cuddy knew a bit...just that my father was a jackass and took it out on me. She doesn't know details. Wilson knows some. I told him and he went and punched my Dad in the face. Over me. I walked in right after and got my own ass knocked around by my Dad. It was a regular after-school special. Minus the happy ending and kids who learned something. Well not really. I guess you and the other ducklings learned something. Nothing worth knowing though. Sorry to waste your brain space." House stared at the television, just past Cameron's head. She searched his face and wished he would look her in the eye.

"Well...you have to start somewhere. Maybe...maybe someone professional. Or just a...friend to talk to. Someone who isn't Wilson and probably won't search out your father to throw a punch." His eyes fell on hers, but Cameron knew he wasn't really looking at her. It was more for her benefit than his, and despite the depressing topic of conversation, she still had to quell the rush of blood to her head and fluttering of her stomach that took over her body every time he looked at her.

"Are you suggesting you?"

"Sure...or Chase or Foreman...or a plant if you REALLY want something that won't talk back."

A hint of a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

"I'm not much for talking to plants. Your flowery personality is enough for me."

Cameron filed away that loaded statement away for dissection later. The door slid open and the four walked in. Cuddy and Chase immediately went to check his chart and vitals. Foreman hung around near the door, and Wilson sat on the foot of the bed.

"You look like hell." The oncologist informed his best friend.

"You look like a girl." House shot back. Wilson raised an eyebrow.

"I'm heavily medicated, you'll have to excuse empty space in my arsenal of snappy comebacks."

"You're always heavily medicated."

"Well then I'm concussed."

Wilson just laughed. Chase spoke.

"Well, it looks like you're doing fine. Vitals are good. How much pain are you in right now?"

"It's not bad...just sore." Chase looked confused and checked House's morphine drip.

"You should feel more than sore...we didn't want to over medicate you until we knew how much you needed...what the...someone raised your dosage!"

Sheepishly, Cameron stared holes in the tops of her shoes. Something no one missed.

"Cameron? Did you up his dose?" A slightly annoyed Chase looked at her from beneath his furrowed brow.

"Well...I was reading...and he moaned. He was sweating...I thought it was bad so...it was just a bit more. Nothing too over the top."

Sighing, and running a hand through his hair, Chase opened his mouth.

"Well I suppose if he's only a bit sore, and it's manageable, the dose is good. You can stay on that until the pain level changes. Now I need to check your stitches." He reached for the sheet, but stopped the second House's hand loosely gripped his wrist.

"Whoa there Crocodile Hunter. Don't you think you should buy me dinner first? Maybe take in a show?"

"House..." Chase looked uncomfortable. "I was the surgeon who operated on you...and they were all in the theater. It's nothing we haven't seen now."

"You guys watched?! I feel so violated!" Once more, House tried to play off his discomfort with humor.

"Yeah, well, get used to it. We were going to draw straws but we just decided to all take care of you while you're here. So, the three of us will be seeing the scar a lot more before you go back home. And even then you'll probably need Wilson to help check it."

House just stared at them. Sighing, he said "At least only one person be in here at a time." He released his grip on Chase as the rest headed out the door. Chase made sure the blinds were closed before returning to the bed and pulling down the sheet.

"Everything looks good...I don't think you'll have to sleep here very long. But you won't be back to work for a few weeks. And you have a few hard months of physical therapy ahead of you. If everything goes well, you should be back to around where your mobility was before..." Chase trailed off.

"Before my Dad kicked my ass?"

A wry grin appeared on Chase's face.

"Yeah..."

"Can you leave now? And send in Wilson...I need some stuff from the house."

"Uh...sure...one of us will be back in a few hours to check on you. Once Wilson leaves you should get some sleep."

"Yeah, yeah. I know the drill."

Chase walked out and sent in Wilson.

"How you feeling?"

"Like hell swallowed me and crapped me out into a lava toilet. In other words just peachy. You? How's wife Number 12?"

Grimacing at the mental image and the bad joke, Wilson resumed his position sitting at the foot of his friends bed.

"She's about the same...you know...your folks headed back last night. Your mom said she was sorry, but would make up for it at Christmas."

House just grunted. Wilson forged on.

"Chase said you wanted some things from the house?"

"Yeah...a guitar...any guitar. And the electronic piano. Um...my sleep pants and some tee shirts, my toothbrush and my gameboy. And something to read. Oh, and that bottle of scotch from the cabinet over the sink."

"I'm not bringing you alcohol when you're on a morphine drip."

"Sure you aren't...I'll see you later...I'm tired."

Nodding Wilson stood.

"Bye House."

His good-bye fell on deaf ears, as House was already fast asleep dreaming of who knows what. Shaking his head, Wilson smiled and headed out. What a day...

"I'll leave the stuff in the chair when I come back. I won't be gone too long.