Rating: T, probably, although I always forget what they mean.

Author's note: Thanks for the reviews, please keep R&Ring, I like to hear what you've got to say! And just for reference, I don't even smoke. And I like Remy better than Rema, so I'll just stick to that until the matter's been resolved.

Disclaimer: I don't own House, blah, blah.

Chapter 3

Thirteen was going to finish five minutes early, damn the consequences. Speaking a few words to her last patient, she looked over towards Cameron, who was now deep in a consult with another ER doctor, examining a young boy's fractured leg. She found a piece of paper and a pen, and hastily scribbled a note. She glanced over at Cameron again, unwilling to disturb her, and walked through the sweeping double doors to the female changing rooms. She found the locker named 'Dr Allison Cameron' and fixed the note to the door with one of her hair pins.

She left via the back exit doors, into the cold. Her hands thrust into her coat pockets; she decided to walk, rather than catch the bus, thinking it would probably take the same time anyway. The flashing neon lights of an off-license caught her eye, and she surprised herself by stopping and buying a packet of cigarettes. She never smoked, not at least since high school, but it was strange, that feeling running through her, that wanting; a steady, growing need to experience something, something exhilarating.

She found it repugnant that she took pleasure from it. More than pleasure, it was a calm, breathless delight that appealed incessantly to all of her senses. Inhaling slowly, the acrid taste sour in a way that was almost sexual, she felt a solitary moment of connection. She was afraid if she exhaled she would lose it, break it, drop it in its fragility. She wondered if she held her breath forever would she feel more alive. The air around her seemed sharper than usual, no dusky impurities, but a thin languid ocean of channels and currents all as quenching in their blackness.

Inhaling once more, she threw the cigarette onto the concrete below, vowing not to smoke again. She opened her front door, and walked into her bedroom, lying back on the bed. In the all familiar piecing together of her thoughts, she felt the inevitable of her muscles relaxing, a feeling so acute she failed to understand how something so passive could cause such a reaction. She wanted to remember her body like this, this raw and real. She felt a momentary thrill at the thought of dinner with Cameron, and chose to put all thoughts of Chase out of her mind.

Cameron was finished in the ER, she tossed her papers aside almost rebelliously; she didn't know what had come over her. She looked around for Thirteen, but couldn't see her anywhere. She called out a good night goodbye to the staff, and went to change out of her scrubs. Her face lit up with a smile when she saw the note clipped to her locker.

Allison,

I didn't want to disturb you, I finished a little early and went home to get changed.

Not that I don't love wearing your pants.

I'll pick you up tonight at 8.

Remy x

Cameron didn't know how she could explain the sudden warmth that seemed to embrace her whole body. Her smile dropped as she remembered her plans with Chase. She should call Chase and tell him she wouldn't be coming over tonight. Damn, Chase. She realised she hadn't thought about him all day.

Picking up her cell phone, she dialled his number. He answered, his voice a little disappointed when she told him she had dinner plans.

"Don't get too drunk," he laughed quietly, "and definitely no crystal meth!"

She laughed and told him he had nothing to worry about, and echoed him when he said he loved her.

She changed out of her scrubs, and closed her locker, smiling again at the note, before putting it in her jeans pocket. A small image of Thirteen wearing her pants this morning came to mind, with her hair wet and in ringlets. She felt herself hoping that the warm blood cursing through her body and the continual desire to laugh out loud were just admiration for Thirteen's style. She looked good in those pants, right. Yeah, she'd look good out of them too but. . . Cameron stopped. Her heart beating a little faster, she knew she wasn't going to be able to hope her way out of this one.

She sat down suddenly, a thought crossing her mind. House had joked about a week ago that he would give her his monthly subscription to Playboy if she would make out with Thirteen. She hadn't thought it weird at the time, House had certainly made much stranger comments, but she could remember thinking his following sentence was odd:

"Thirteen would give you a lot more than a magazine if you'd make out with her," he'd said, holding the image of a topless woman over his mouth and opening his eyes wide and teasing, the magazine muffling his voice, "she's in need of some lady lovin'."

And then there was the time when he's asked Thirteen how her love life was going, whilst they were all in his office, and then demanded that she sit next to Cameron, winking furiously all the while. Certainly that was persistent, even for House.

She didn't know what to think. Perhaps Thirteen would be interested. But it was hardly the most appropriate time, just after she had found out about her Huntington's. And, of course, she was going out with Chase anyway, she reminded herself. Chase; her steady, solid boyfriend of a year.

"Shit." she said aloud, before leaving to go home and get changed.

Since Cameron's house wasn't far from her own, Thirteen thought she would walk again, thinking then that they could both drink wine at the restaurant. She had reserved a table at a beautiful little Italian place a few minutes walk away. It bordered on the park, and the view from the upstairs corner table was picturesque, if not unexpected.

Cameron answered her door quickly, with a huge smile, looking flustered and a little embarrassed.

"Hi," she said, "I'll just be a second, I've just got to get my bag. Come in."

"You look great," Thirteen beamed, stepping closer, surprised at how happy she was feeling. She couldn't help but look Cameron up and down as she walked through the door, trying to hide her sudden feeling of light-headedness. Her eyes widened as she took in Cameron's tight black pencil skirt and sleeveless top, images of slamming the door shut and slamming Cameron up against it flickering through her mind. But she just held onto the door for extra support, feeling like she needed it.

"So do you." Cameron replied, her eyes boring into Thirteen's white shirt, opened dangerously low, and her black, drainpipe jeans. She blinked slowly as she tried to contain the small tortured groan that seemed to involuntarily occur, and ended up sighing as a compromise.

After a second of staring, both women tore their eyes away, feeling hot and flushed, neither daring to make eye-contact.

Cameron reached over for her coat, and put it on slowly, her nimble fingers as they buttoned not failing to catch Thirteen's attention. Thirteen wasn't sure how she was going to get through dinner without saying something stupid.

"The restaurant's a few minutes walk away, do you mind?" Thirteen asked.

"No, I feel like some fresh air actually." Cameron replied, hoping she might cool down a little.

Cameron smiled up at her as a signal that she was ready, and rested her bag on her shoulder. They left the apartment, both in silence, and descended down the steps.

"How was your day?" Thirteen asked, eager to break the silence before the tension became unbearable. She found herself cursing Chase, and his manliness, and wondering if Cameron wasn't as straight as she had initially thought. She was certainly open about everyone she met; she seemed to love her patients without question, unconditionally even. Thirteen found herself hoping that she was as open about attraction as she was about her patients; perhaps if she liked someone it didn't matter what gender they were. Perhaps it didn't matter, if she was willing to overlook other things. She loved broken people, House had said, no matter who they were.

"Long," Cameron laughed, "as always. As I'm sure you understand."

"Yeah, you can say that again," Thirteen answered, laughing, as they began to walk.

Cameron paused for a second, "How was yours?"

"It was . . . bizarre, actually," Thirteen replied, "It wasn't even bad, it was kind of strange, I felt sort of free, you know, I think maybe it was the right thing to do, testing myself."

"It was very brave," Cameron contemplated, her tone serious.

"No, it was foolish of me not to have done it five years ago, ten years ago. I think I've probably missed out on a lot."

"There's still time," Cameron said gently, "you've still got time."

"Yeah, I guess I have . . ." Thirteen said thoughtfully, her low voice unusually filled with emotion.

"What about your family?" Cameron asked, "Will you tell them?"

"Well, there's only my dad really," Thirteen said, gesturing, "and we haven't been close for a long time. He works a lot. My mum's death really sort of finished him, you know? He wasn't the same after that, just more distant really. I don't know if I could bear to tell him."

"I understand," Cameron whispered.

"Anyway," Thirteen said, more positively, "let's talk about something else. Where did you grow up?"

"Minnesota," Cameron replied, pausing as Thirteen stopped, glancing up at the building in front of them.

"We're here," Thirteen said, waiting for Cameron's verdict.

"Wow," Cameron exclaimed, her eyebrows raised, "this is amazing." She felt something in her melt a little, as she looked at the candlelit tables inside; her resolve to keep pretending she loved Chase; her resolve to keep everything neat and tidy and constant. She had once told House that not all change was bad, so why was she so afraid to follow her own advice?

Cameron was suddenly fearful that Thirteen would see the corners of her mouth turning upwards, that she would understand that it was all because of her. She felt her eyebrows rise again as she saw Thirteen smile back, and when she looked into Thirteen's eyes she didn't know if she saw longing there or if they were just reflecting back her own.

They were seated at the corner table of the top floor, next to a wide window giving panoramic views of the park outside, the darkness in the room suffused with a soft light from the candles and lanterns hung from the walls.

"This really is beautiful." Cameron said, looking around to appreciate the room, before gazing outside at the view, "How on earth did you find it?"

"A friend took me here, he's obsessed with this kind of thing. He used to make me come here with him just so he could sneak photographs of the place."

Cameron felt a twinge of jealousy, and then a sudden panic as she felt her voice speaking almost involuntarily, "A friend? Or your boyfriend?"

Thirteen laughed. Perhaps Cameron wasn't as straight as she thought she was. But she still had a boyfriend, she had to remind herself. "My friend." she said, "He's gay actually, really into art and photography, and he moved to New York a few months ago."

Cameron hoped her sigh of relief wasn't audible. "So Remy, what do you think of working for House?"

"I like it, I think. It's a challenge; it's certainly like nothing I've ever done before." She laughed out loud, her eyes looking beyond Cameron for a moment. "You can never forget the stakes, not for a minute. I think I almost like him, you know, he's not always what he pretends to be, underneath all the crap."

"Yeah, it took me a long time to figure that out." Cameron responded, "But I'll never know who he is really, I don't know if anyone ever will. But anyone who comes into any real contact with him knows there's more to him than he wants people to know. We just don't know what that is."

"You like him?" Thirteen asked quietly, silently hoping the answer was a no.

Cameron paused. "I used to. I thought I used to. But now I think it was mainly about the power, the control. He had power over me and I liked that, I guess. I think I'm looking for something different now." Her voice slowed; as she thought about how far she'd come since she'd left House.

"And you have that with Dr Chase?"

Cameron's eyes widened. That was the second time she'd forgotten about Chase that day. "I. . ." she began.

"Are you ready to order?" the waiter asked, notepad in hand. Cameron sighed.

Both women ordered the salad, and red wine to drink, laughing at their similar taste.

"House always used to accuse me of being too thin." Cameron stated, "I bet you get that too?"

"Yeah, but I actually eat so much, you wouldn't believe it," Thirteen replied.

"Well I'm definitely not on a diet," Cameron joked.

Thirteen took a mental image. She wanted to remember that second, Cameron's eyes as she laughed, the gold of the lighting bathing her skin so that it glowed, the flash of the crystal necklace that gently lay against the gap in between her neck and her collarbone; the way her skin seemed impossibly soft and her hands incredibly smooth as she played with the rim of her wine glass.

Thirteen wondered if her life would be a series of photographs like this one.

Cameron felt nervous, and excited. She wanted to blame the wine for the fiery flow of her blood through her veins, the knock of her heart as it beat against her ribs. She felt Thirteen's leg accidentally touch hers under the table, and thought there were more neurones firing impulses through her body than there were stars in the sky.

"Sorry." Thirteen smiled awkwardly.

Cameron reached over and laid a hand on Thirteen's. It was a thing she knew she shouldn't do, a momentary reflex that didn't seem to travel through her brain at all. Thirteen's mouth dropped a little in surprise, and Cameron quickly drew her hand away.

"I'm sorry, I. . ."

Thirteen reached for her hand as she moved it away, and held it. They both looked down at their clasped hands. Thirteen couldn't remember ever feeling so awake, almost drunk on adrenaline. In a daring move, she slowly spread her finger and interlinked them softly between Cameron's. Cameron's eyes opened wider, darkening, as her pupils dilated and her lips parted in a silent gasp. Thirteen's eyes never left hers as she began to intertwine their fingers, Cameron's breathing becoming increasingly rapid as she drew lazy circles on her palm, and traced the contours of her wrist.

"Two cob salads." the waiter stated as he approached, laying down the plates. "Any more wine?"

"Yes," both women stated in unison.

Sorry it was long, I considered cutting it in two, but where's the fun in that? I promise a bit (a lot) of smut for the next chapter, honestly.