Going home was one of the worst spot-the-differences games Cameron had ever played. It was like living in an alternate reality, picking out the little things that weren't there before. New paint in the lobby. Remnants of a recently spilled drink on the carpet. One of the numbers on her neighbor's door had fallen off. She stopped in front of her door, looking down. That welcome mat was different. Did she even have one before? This was still her place, right? She reached for her keys, bringing them up to the doorknob. Well, only one way to find out.

She unlocked the door, letting it swing in before walking into the apartment. Well, the general layout was about the same. Slightly wilted flowers were in a vase on the dining table, and she picked one up, twirling it between two fingers. That was new. She didn't usually keep flowers. She dropped the flower as if it had shocked her. They had to be from Chase. Forget about him, she told herself, picking the flower up from the ground and putting it how could she? She kept seeing little bits and pieces of him everywhere, maybe even where there weren't any at all.

A man's jacket was draped over her couch. She poked at a sleeve cautiously, as if it would reach out and bite her. She would have to give that back at some point. What would she even say? No. She was thinking about him again. He doesn't exist, she thought, shaking her head. At least for the afternoon.

She walked into the bathroom, catching her own appearance in the mirror. She almost laughed aloud. She looked awful. It's a wonder no one had stopped her in the street, or ran the other direction in a frenzied panic. Her hair was an absolute mess, brown strands sticking out here and there. Without makeup, the dark creases on her face that had accumulated over the last few days were starkly visible. She reached up and felt the back of her head for the first time since the accident, gently running her fingers over the area. A big lump, about an inch and a half in diameter. A long scab, a straight line through the lump, small raised portions indicating stitches. What had she been expecting?

She sat on the toilet, looking at her hands. How much had really changed? How much had she changed? The trash can caught her eye, and she lifted it up, looking into the contents. Mostly paper. She put it back down with a sigh. It wasn't like any secret revelations were going to be made by looking through the... hang on. Dropping the can had shuffled its contents. She picked out the thin, sleek piece of plastic, bringing it up to her eyes. A positive pregnancy test. That... was not news anymore. She dropped it back into the trash, looking up at the ceiling. She was pregnant... With their baby. There was no way she could stop thinking about him. She was literally carrying a piece of him inside her.

After washing her hands, she went into her bedroom, sitting down on the, thankfully, larger bed. Hospital beds weren't something anyone enjoyed sleeping on. It took her a moment to realize there were teardrops rolling down her cheeks. Why was she crying? She tried to rub them away, tried to stop, but they kept dripping down, leaving dark circles on the lap of her jeans. She looked around, blinking. She didn't feel at home. She was crying because it felt like she was sitting in someone else's apartment, someone who had seamlessly taken her place, used her belongings, moved everything around. And, to top it all off, she had pushed away the only person who had any idea about who that person was. And his stuff was... everywhere.

She could see a shirt and tie peeking out of the closet, ones that definitely weren't hers.

She walked over, arranging her clothes so she could get a better look at it. She caressed the light blue fabric, heart suddenly heavy. She... missed him.

No. She had needed to break it off. For both of their sakes. She looked at the sleeve in her hand, then slowly around the room. She was alone. No one else would know if she cared. And so, from some deep set urge, she hugged the shirt, engulfing herself in his strangely familiar scent...

He buttoned up his shirt, tie slung around his neck. "Come on, Cameron. Can't be late. House is waiting."

She groaned, rolling over in bed. The one time he wakes up first... "No he isn't."

He tilted his head. "Cuddy's waiting."

Okay, that was actually true. She swung her legs out of bed, standing up reluctantly. Walking over, she looked through the closet, trying to find something to wear. "You know, even after dating this long, we still call each other by our last names more than our first."

He adjusted his tie, shrugging. "They're our names."

She hastily ran a comb through her hair, trying to work out the tangles as quickly as possible. "What, you don't see a problem with that?"

"Not at all."

She changed into a pair of pants, pulling them on one leg at a time. "Well, what if we got married?"

"You'd still be Cameron to me," he said, going to put the comb back.

She slipped on a shirt, fumbling with the buttons. "What about everyone else? You don't see an issue with two Dr. Chase's running around?"

He contemplated this for a second, stopping in his tracks. "I think we just can't stand in the same room together. Like Superman and Clark Kent."

She smirked. "Then which of us is which?"

"Ah, come on, I haven't thought that far ahead," he looked at his watch, dodging the question. "Hurry up, or I'll drive off without you."

Hands shaking, she hung the shirt back on the rack, sitting down on the bed again. That was a memory. It had to be. Her head was throbbing again and she massaged her temples, frowning. She needed to clear her head. Staying here was like being suffocated by the unknown past, wrapped with reminders of the man she had told she didn't love.

Maybe she did love him. Maybe that was worse.

Chase sat in the corner of a patient's room, arms crossed over his chest. The others were there, doing some routine procedures. He wasn't really paying attention. It was like everything had come to a halt after Cameron had left the hospital. He'd sat, frozen for what felt like hours, before Foreman told him to join the rest of the team in... whatever they were doing now. He might as well focus on the case now. There was nothing left for him to lose. He looked over at the patient who moaned in his sleep, rolling over. "How are we meant to be testing for something that's never been discovered?"

Foreman sighed, changing the IV bag of the patient. "I don't know. Maybe it's just 'Black Plague 2.0.'"

The plague, or any derivative of it, would be contagious. They'd been around these patients for days. "None of us are sick."

Foreman raised his eyebrows. "Thank you, Dr. Obvious, I definitely could not have figured that..." he looked away, thinking. "You're thinking environmental cause?"

Chase nodded.

"Well, then we just have to find what these three have in common," Fletcher said, twirling her flashlight. "Otherwise we'll end up picking these people apart piece by piece until we find something."

The idea bothered him more than it should have, partially because of the immaturity of it all. "Thank you, for that mental image," Chase said, standing up.

"You're a doctor," she said, shrugging it off. "It's not that disturbing."

What was she, five? "You're an adult." He rolled his own IV stand over, catching it with a hand. "Anyway, since I can't leave this hospital, you two can figure out the whole snooping situation. I'll be in my room."

Cameron walked down a paved road in the local park, taking in each smell, sight, and sound as a welcome respite from the pale, bleached walls of the hospital. She took a deep breath of the warm late spring air, sighing. Everything she would imagine would be there was there, and she, for once, didn't feel so out of place. Kids were playing on the playground, a happy couple split an ice cream cone, a group of men were playing volleyball in the field, two doctors were snooping around...

Wait, what? They were poking around in the bushes, taking samples of everything. She walked over, eyebrow raised.

"What are you guys doing here?" They both jumped, Foreman nearly dropping the vial he was holding.

"Cameron," he gasped, looking behind her quickly to make sure no one else was around before sighing in relief. "Was worried you were the police or something."

"We're snooping," Fletcher said, shaking an empty biohazard bag.

"What? You guys haven't done anything illegal." Cameron looked around suspiciously. "At least... that I've seen."

"Try being a mother seeing some random black dude digging in the bushes of the park your kid is playing at." Foreman rolled his eyes, holding out the vial. "Trust me, I'm surprised we haven't been arrested yet."

Fletcher shrugged, taking the vial and dropping it into a bag. "You don't think the blonde white woman would change anything?"

Foreman laughed. "It would add kidnapping to the charges," he replied, going deeper into the bushes.

"So, how did you guys end up deciding to look in the park?"

"The first patient was part of a weekly book club, the second is a mother of a five year old, and the last is an ice cream man," Fletcher said, accepting another vial from the hand sticking out of the bush. "And that led us straight here."

"Holy-" The rustling noises stopped.

"Foreman?" Cameron called out, inching slowly toward where the sound stopped.

"Yeah, I-" They could hear him moving slowly, pushing through the foliage. "I think I found something."