A/N: We're glad you're all here for part two :) Keep the comments coming :) They're much appreciated :) Here's another chapter :)

Chapter Two

House stared in shock at the tiny, grey, weathered cottage. The trim was painted a shade of pink that actually hurt his eyes in the glaring Florida sunlight. Cameron parked the car next to the stubby palmetto tree in front of the screened in porch. The plant looked like a stunted palm tree.

"Please tell me this is the caretaker's place," he groaned.

"No, he lives in a mobile home. It's not that bad, House," Cameron told him patiently. "There are two bedrooms, a living room and kitchen. There are air conditioners in every room. See?" She pointed to a tiny box jutting out from the side of the house. "There is only one bathroom but we can share. The best part-"

"There's a best part in all this?" he asked with a sharp edge of sarcasm.

"The beach is right across the street. Open your door and take a deep breath. You can smell the Gulf. We can watch the crabs later. They come up at sunset. And the sunsets are spectacular here. You'll like it. It's quiet, and right now we're the only ones here."

House heard the tinge of desperation beneath the cheery note in her voice. She desperately wanted him to like the shabby, run down shack in that tiny podunk town. With a sigh of defeat he opened the car door, slowly stood and breathed deeply. The briny scent of salt water filled his lungs. Reaching into the car, he grabbed his cane. Slamming the car door shut, he slowly followed Cameron up the stairs of the house and inside. He stepped into the living room and stopped. Calling the small room a living room was being generous. There was a kitchenette in the back of the room tucked in a corner. A large couch that had seen better days and an old, scarred coffee table faced the front porch. To the left was a door. Cameron opened it and he could just see two tiny rooms off a short hallway and what he hoped was a closet but somehow knew was the bathroom.

"Your family stayed here when you were a kid?" he asked as he slowly made his way inside. A ceiling fan whirled overhead and he ducked to avoid being decapitated by it.

"Yeah," she said as she came back out. She looked around. "It seemed much bigger then. Of course, everything seems big when you're a kid."

"You think?"

Her shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, House. We can leave and-"

"No, like you said, we're the only ones here, besides the possibly murderous caretaker."

She laughed softly. He limped over to her and pulled her into his arms. "It's fine. I just have to remember to duck so I don't get decapitated by that ceiling fan."

Leaning into him, she tucked her head under his chin. He knew there was no better moment to tell her his plan than now.

"I want to detox cold turkey."

He felt her stiffen before she pulled back and looked up at him. "No."

"It'll be faster than titrating me off the damn stuff."

"And more painful. I didn't bring anything to do it that way. I have nothing for nausea, muscle pain, insomnia...please, House. Let me titrate you off it slowly."

He shook his head. "It takes too long. The worst part lasts less than a week. The we can go home and I can see that pain guy Bordella told us about." He looked into her eyes. "They weaned me off it at Mayfield and it was just as bad but took longer. I trust you. Please."

Tears welled in her eyes but she finally nodded.

"You gotta get rid of any Vicodin you brought with you. A couple days in and I'll do anything to get it. You can't let me."

"I'll go hide it," she said softly.

House shook his head. "No. I don't want to hurt you trying to get it. And I could. Flush it, throw it in the ocean, just get rid of it."

She nodded and wrapped her arms tightly around him. He rested his cheek on the top of her head. Hopefully when this was all over she would still love him.

A few hours later, there was a knock on the door while House sat on the porch swing out back with Cameron. She leaned against him, her head on his shoulder but quickly got up when she heard the door.

"Could that be the serial killer caretaker with the food?" he asked her.

"He isn't a serial killer. I'll be right back."

Five minutes later, Cameron still hadn't come back and curiosity got the better of House so he went inside to investigate. How long did it take to bring in a few bags of food?

Cameron was in the kitchen, surrounded by grocery bags, talking to a handsome blonde man who looked to be around the same age as she.

He couldn't help feeling just a little threatened by the man. They chatted and laughed like they'd known each other for years, and they probably had.

The man looked over at House and smiled pleasantly.

"Who's your friend?" House asked Cameron as he limped further into the kitchen.

"Greg House, this is Tim Job, the caretaker."

"Most call me TJ now," the man said as he extended his hand to House.

Oh, the fun I can have with that, House thought to himself as he stared at the man's hand.

Realizing House wasn't going to shake his hand, TJ lowered it and turned his attention back to Cameron. "Is there anything else you need, Ally?"

"How much do we owe you? Or do you buy groceries for all your tenants?" House inquired, looking slightly annoyed.

"Ally told me you're feeling under the weather and that she might not have a chance to make it to the store later in the week so…"

"Oh she did?" House said as he glared at Cameron, who glared right back at him as if to say don't you dare start anything!

"Yeah, well, I need to get going. It was nice seeing you again, Ally. I'm glad you're back."

"For how long remains to be seen," House muttered as he started going through the various bags of groceries for something to eat.

Tim smiled at her before he let himself out and Cameron glared at House. "Jesus, House, could you have been any more rude?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?" he asked, still looking through the groceries.

"No. It was uncalled for. He was just trying to help."

"We don't need his help." House tossed a bag of vegetables on the counter. "Where's the peanut butter? Beer? Pizza? Anything not consumed by rabbits?"

Cameron took a deep breath and tried hard to remember that he was in pain and probably starting to feel the beginning effects of withdrawal.

"It won't hurt you to eat a few fruits and vegetables," she said calmly as she began to put the groceries away.

"And it won't hurt YOU to eat more. You could stand to gain at least five or ten pounds."

"Don't do this, House."

"What?"

"Try and sabotage this withdrawal thing. Remember, it was your idea. Don't take it out on me."

"It wasn't my idea to detox in a shack," House grumbled as he found the peanut butter and slathered some on two slices of bread before going back outside to sit on the porch swing.

Once he was gone, Cameron finished putting the groceries away. The cold turkey detox was a bad idea and she never should have agreed to it. She knew he could be vicious when his pain worsened. Still, it hurt to hear him lash out at her about her weight. When she worked for him, the stress caused her to drop to ninety pounds. Now she was at a healthy weight and most of it was from pure muscle. Hell, even her breasts were bigger. True, they weren't as big as Cuddy's but Cameron was smaller than Cuddy. She didn't have her former boss's wide hips or big ass, either. Suddenly, anger coursed through her.

So, he thought she needed to gain some weight, huh? Well, she'd show him. It was warm enough for a swim so she went into the bedroom and changed into a floral bikini. It was basically three tiny triangles and a G-string bottom, but it showed off her toned body perfectly. She found her flip flops and a beach towel, pasted a wide smile on her face and sauntered out onto the back porch. House sat holding his sandwich staring into space. He rubbed his right leg and for a moment she faltered. Then he looked up at her. His eyes narrowed and he clenched his leg. His gaze raked over her and for a moment, desire flared in his eyes.

"Going to meet your old buddy for a swim?" he asked as he turned away. "I'm sure Rim Job will be thrilled to see how you've blossomed."

She opened the screen door. "I'm going for a swim. I'll be back in an hour or so."

The screen door slammed behind her and she skipped down the steps. Tears blurred her vision but she'd be damned if she let him see her cry. The next few days would test her patience and resolve. She just needed to remember how much she loved him and how much better he would be once the Vicodin cleared his system. The Gulf of Mexico spread out before her. Kicking off her shoes and dropping her towel, she raced into the warm water and began to swim.