"This again, huh?" House looked up to see his best friend, boy wonder oncologist James Wilson, walking in. He took a seat beside House's desk, leaning back in the chair. "Are you just going to reject every applicant again?"

Again. House thought back to the brief period when Cameron had quit, and he had refused to hire another person. He tossed his red and gray oversized tennis ball into the air, catching it. "This time it's only temporary. I only have to put up with them for a few weeks."

Wilson raised his bushy eyebrows, grinning. "You mean they only have to put up with you for a few weeks."

House pointed at his friend, smirking. "Ah." He pulled up the first file, flipping through it without reading the contents.

"Hi." A young man stood at the door, short cropped red hair and a face full of freckles. "I'm-"

House flipped the file open to the first page, frowning. "Dr. Kyle McConnell." He looked up at the thin, unassuming man. "Well. Maybe I only need one new candidate."

"What, so he's hired?" Wilson asked incredulously.

"No, but if every candidate is this below standard, we're having all further discussions in Doctor Chase's room." He looked over at Wilson, raising an eyebrow. "You know, the one who can still work."

Wilson's eyebrows wrinkled up, dark eyes filled with disbelief. "You haven't even met the guy!"

"Oh, come on, just look at him." House gestured at the applicant with his cane.

Wilson turned his head to look. "He looks fine."

"Um, I'm right here," the man said, raising a hand nervously.

"I want a doctor with confidence," House said, crossing his legs on his desk. "He couldn't even introduce himself."

Wilson splayed his hands out. "You didn't let him!"

The man was somehow in a more awkward pose than when he came in, arms wrapped around his body like limp noodles. "Sorry- should I leave?"

"See? He's already given up." House tilted his head up to meet the eyes of the confused young man. "Get out of here."

He gathered his things and left in a hurry, and House tossed his file in the trash.

"Really? You're not gonna give him a chance?"

"He had a chance. He blew it."

Wilson sighed. It was going to be a long day.

Cameron sat at the edge of her bed, shaking two pills out of the bottle she was given and chasing them down with a swig of water. It felt like that was all she had been doing all day, taking Vicodin. Thinking had somehow become more painful, so she had done nothing but lie in bed since she left Chase's room. She hadn't done the ultrasound yet, hadn't even considered asking yet. She didn't think she wanted to know what she would find.

"Allison?"

She looked up. Her parents had just entered the room, walking to the bedside.

"Hey. Mom. Dad."

Her mother sat down, cupping a hand to her face. "We're sorry your brother couldn't make it, he had some business he needed to take care of."

"It's fine," she said, with a faint smile. "Thanks for coming."

"Of course," her father said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

Her head was throbbing. "Fine. You don't need to worry. Really. I'll be fine." The smile took more effort to keep on her face than she expected.

"Oh." Her dad seemed to have felt it too. "Have you eaten?"

"Yeah." She didn't know the last time she had eaten. The dinner she couldn't remember?

Her mother smiled, but her eyes gave away the poorly concealed concern. "Doctor Foreman told us about your memory problem. Are you coping okay?"

She thought about the tumultuous past few days. "Yeah."

"You know who we are?" her dad said, trying in vain to make a joke.

Her lips were pressed tightly together before she spoke. "Yes."

Her mother tugged lightly on her father's arm. "We're gonna grab some lunch. Take care of yourself, sweetheart."

"Always."

They left somewhat reluctantly, passing Foreman and exchanging some quick greetings as he walked back in with a clipboard.
He turned his head back momentarily. "Your parents, right?"

"Yeah."

"And you let them go just like that?" He looked at her quizzically. "Who are you and what did you do with Cameron?"

She lay back down on the bed, letting the corner of her mouth twitch up. "Right, I've been replaced with another person."

Foreman raised his eyebrows. "Okay, this is going on your chart."

A light seemed to flash before her eyes. "What?" Was he crazy? She sat up. "Just because I didn't want to talk to my parents?"

"Mhm." He nodded, writing something down.

She shook her head in disbelief, but didn't try to argue further. There was a sudden throbbing pain distracting her.

"It's fine. Moodiness is bound to happen, but it's a symptom nonetheless."

Why was he talking down to her? They were supposed to be equals. Did he think she was stupid? "I'm not-" she huffed, crossing her arms. "Okay. Fine. Maybe I'm a little 'moody'. Sue the pregnant woman."

Foreman almost dropped the clipboard, looking up in astonishment. "You're what? Who else knows?"

She shrugged hostilely. "Basically everyone, thanks to House."

He nodded, slowly. "And why am I, your doctor, the last person to know?"

She shrugged again. "Too busy breaking into houses, I guess. You find anything, by the way?"

Foreman seemed slightly irked by her uncharacteristic brashness, but shrugged it off. "Nothing particularly interesting. Typical suburban home." He put the clipboard down, walking closer. "Anyway, I'm here for your MRI, if you'd-"

A flash. She wasn't in the hospital anymore. It was dark. Someone was there. She wasn't safe. They were going to hurt her. "Get away from me!" she screamed, desperately trying to distance herself from the person. An instinctive drive kicked in, and she grabbed the nearest thing, raising it up into the air.

"Whoa. Whoa! Hey!"

Whatever had taken over her body snapped away as quickly as it came. What was she doing? Her arms shook, barely carrying the stand that held an IV bag, swinging side to side from the sudden movement.

"Put it down," Foreman said firmly, his hands also grasped tightly around the pole. "I'm going to let go, okay? Can you hear me?"

She nodded. He took a deep breath, letting go and taking two steps back. It was like the weight of her own body was crushing herself, and she practically fell back onto the bed, the stand rolling harmlessly to the side.

She lay in the MRI, staring at the curved, plastic ceiling. "I'm sorry," she muttered as he set up the machine. "I feel like I'm losing my mind."

He chuckled good-naturedly. "Well, at least you're acting like yourself again. I should've guessed there might've been PTSD earlier. But someone's kept me a little busy." He walked behind the glass, pressing a final few buttons before leaning into the mic. "Just stay still and we'll get this over quick."

The banging noises of the machine were somehow louder than they usually were, seeming to pierce straight through her skull, shaking up its contents. Each subsequent bang felt worse than the last, and she felt a strong dizziness start to engulf her.

"Cameron? You okay?"

"Don't really feel too great," she managed to force out, teeth gritted tight.

"Hang on, almost done. Just stay still."

She closed her eyes, squeezing them as tight as she could without moving her head. The nausea was overwhelming. She didn't think she could take it anymore. She was going to-

The banging stopped, and without a second's hesitation, she pulled herself over to the edge and threw up on the ground. Her vision was still spinning, but she could tell through the haze that the vomit was nothing but water.

"Oh, shoot!" Foreman ran out, putting a hand on her back. "I should've stopped it. I'm sorry."

She would've shaken her head if it wasn't for the circumstances. "No, you had to. It's okay."

He looked at the ground, frowning. "When did you last eat?"

She didn't move, afraid of increasing the pain. "Don't know."

"But you told your dad-"

"I lied." She was gripping the edge for dear life, chest heaving up and down.

He looked at the ground again pensively. "I... guess I'll call the janitor again. But after that, what do you think about lunch?" She could feel his gaze shift over to her. "Just to try and bring some normalcy back into things."

She half-smiled at the floor. "I'm pretty sure my parents are still in the cafeteria."

"I'm sure we can figure something out." A sudden beeping filled the room, and Foreman looked down at his pager. "I've got to go. Patient's in cardiac arrest. You know where your room is, right?" Then he was gone, and she was left alone with her thoughts again.