What? Shock seemed to freeze her core, time standing still. She didn't feel like she was missing anything. How could she have forgotten without knowing? Without noticing anything?

"No, that can't be possible," she said, grabbing her head. "I can't-"

He grabbed her arms, steadying her. "It's okay. It's okay."

It wasn't okay at all. What had she missed? How much had changed? Nothing looked like it had changed. She scanned the room, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary.

He shook her gently, getting her attention back on him. "Cameron, amnesia is very common in cases of head trauma."

The corner of her mouth twitched. Did he think he was being reassuring? "I know. I'm a doctor."

"You'll probably get it back." She looked into his eyes, an unspoken admiration lighting them up. He did honestly, truly love her, didn't he? The thought twisted a knot in her gut. "I'm just- so glad you're okay. I thought I... thought I lost you."

Realization hit her like a glass of water to the face. She stared at him, gaze bordering from shock to horror. "Chase- are we-" It sat like a rock in her chest, but she had to know. "Are we... dating?"

He nodded wistfully. "Yeah."

She took a deep breath, letting the statement sink in. "How long?"

The smile was completely gone now, as his eyebrows scrunched up. "Four months." It was a barely audible whisper.

It was like her chest was constricting, her heart dropping down. "Chase-" It was like a tidal wave of guilt, washing over, drowning her. "I'm sorry."

He nodded, now holding his own hands in his lap. "It's not your fault."

She nodded, but the weight on her chest didn't change. If anything, it seemed to get heavier. Up until the point blinding pain shot through her head, and she staggered back.

"Cameron?"

She squinted her eyes through the pain, looking at the clock in the room. 3:45. "Damn." She wandered out of his room almost blindly, stumbling into her own, searching for the pill bottle. She popped out two as fast as she could, some of the tiny pills scattering across the table, and swallowed them as fast as she could. She sighed in relief as the pain ebbed away, at least to a tolerable amount.

"The mummy returns to her tomb."

She knew it was him before she even turned. "Seriously, House? What do you want?"

He pretended to be offended, placing his hands on his chest. "Is there something wrong with checking up on my employees?"

She rolled her eyes. "When it's you, yeah, there is. What do you want?" Her heart was beating faster, looking at him. He was a complete jerk. Why did she still get a rush looking at him? Was it the eyes? The attitude? The-

"I want to know what you're doing in my patient's room, taking my Vicodin."

She blinked, the thoughts of spending the night with House evaporating in an instant. "I-" She looked around, hesitantly. House was right. This wasn't her room at all. In fact, the patient was right in front of her, watching her with a confused terror.

"Who is this woman?" he inquired, hands shaking.

House ignored him. "Come on now, get out of here." He made a shooing motion with his hands, before looking down at the syringe he was holding. "Unless you want to do a biopsy for me. We're a little short handed at the moment."

Foreman walked up behind House in the doorway, arms crossed. "Come on, House. Leave her alone."

Cameron shook her head, brushing her hair back with a hand. "I'll do the biopsy." She took the syringe, walking toward the patient. It would keep her busy. Busy was good. If she was busy, she didn't have to think about the missing chunk of time in her head, didn't have to think about Chase.

House looked back, giving a small shrug. "Guess she'll do the biopsy."

The old man leaned up, concerned. "Sorry, is this safe? She's wearing a patient gown. Do you know this woman?"

"House-" Foreman started, stepping forward.

"Oh, relax." House sized her up. "Put a lab coat over that. Then run the tests."

Hours later, she was squinting at test results under a lab microscope. Negative. Again. She sighed, pushing her chair away from the desk. She had no idea what the problem was. Chase would know this stuff better. But even the thought of him seemed to physically hurt. She had spent more time than she would have liked to admit thinking about him. Thinking about... them. She had tried to imagine a thousand times how they had gotten together, what their relationship was like. She couldn't see it. Couldn't imagine splitting a meal, or falling asleep in front of the television. Even less so growing old together, or starting a family. Was she meant to tell him? She couldn't. It would... it would be too cruel. She might as well stab him again.

"So many tests, so little time." House threw his cane up in the air as he entered, catching it again. "I'm beginning to think you're trying to avoid something."

Cameron glared at him, glancing briefly at the results again before continuing. "The test results rule out-"

He walked closer, leaning almost menacingly over her. "Come on, what is it? You haven't visited Chase since he woke up, which would make sense, if you were Foreman. He's seen him twice since. Even a complete stranger you would've visited by now. I would think the whole getting stabbed thing would make him more attractive, not less. Was dinner really that bad?"

She stared at him blankly, blinking. Dinner? Was that what they were doing?

"Oh. Oh." He pointed at her, a light going off behind his eyes. "You don't remember, do you? You're avoiding him because you don't want him to know." He started pacing, before stopping to point clasped hands at her. "Or he does know, and you just can't handle the guilt of forgetting."

She hated that man sometimes. Really, really hated him. "The tests were negative for sarcoidosis," she said coolly, getting up.

"See," he said, stopping her in her tracks, "that would be useful if you hadn't screwed up every single test." He tilted his head, narrowing his piercing blue eyes. "Which sounds bad, until you realize you've done only one. In five hours."

"What? No..." she put a hand up to her head. Everything was spinning. She couldn't... She grabbed onto the counter, stumbling. The room was closing in. She was falling. It felt... familiar somehow. Strong arms grabbed her from behind, carrying her back to the seat. It was comfy, comfier than she remembered, and she felt herself slipping away...

"You maniac, I can't believe you let her work! You're wasting valuable time, We're already understaffed-"

"Relax, Foreman, just get her back in bed. I have an idea."

Darkness.