A/N: Hold onto your hats!
Chapter Seven
"Maybe that's him or one of his goons come to break our kneecaps," House joked as he moved toward the front door.
"Don't!"
House turned to look at her. She was pale and shaking. The knocking sounded again.
"You're really scared of this guy, aren't you?" he questioned softly.
"I'll see who it is," she told him in a trembling voice. She swayed slightly as she walked carefully to the door. House watched her as she unlocked it, braced herself and opened it.
A Fed Ex man stood in the hall holding a package.
"Delivery for Greg House," he told Cameron as he thrust a box at her. "Sign here."
Cameron took the box and signed for it. The young man nodded at her and left. Slowly, she closed the door and locked it. She turned to look at House.
"Your Christmas present came earlier than I expected," he told her. "You can open it if you want or drop it and faint. Whichever works best for you."
She shoved the box at him and fled to the kitchen.
When he came in, she was taking the steaks from beneath the broiler and putting them on a plate to rest.
"What did Franklin do to you?" he asked as he leaned in the doorway.
"Nothing."
"You're lying but I'm too hungry to grill you," he said with a note of amusement in his voice.
"Very funny," she sighed.
She plated their dinner and brought them out to the living room. House looked at what she prepared.
"Plain spinach?" he groused. "Who eats plain spinach with a steak? It's supposed to be loaded with butter and cream. A good steak dinner should clog our arteries."
She dumped the cutlery on the coffee table and sat down. She put a paper towel on his leg. "You don't even like creamed spinach," she commented as she put her beer next to her plate.
House picked up his plate, knife and fork. Leaning back, he glanced at her. He wanted to ask her about Franklin but her obvious fear made him nervous. Not for himself but for her. He cut his steak and forked a large piece into his mouth. Maybe Wilson was right. Maybe he did like Cameron. He chewed and thought about that some more. Liking her as more than a puzzle was dangerous; not only for him but for her. He shoved some baked potato into his mouth. No, she was just an interesting puzzle. Except she's more than that, a little voice inside his head whispered.
"Oh, shut up," he muttered under his breath and turned his attention to his dinner and the hockey game on the television.
When he finished, he took his plate and cutlery to the kitchen and put them in the sink while Cameron busied herself scrubbing the pots and pans.
"Thanks," she said as she continued to scrub vigorously, and then put the pot to the side. Without a word, House grabbed a dish towel and started drying.
"You don't have to do that."
He shrugged. "You cooked. Besides, the sooner the dishes get done, the sooner I can have dessert. Assuming there is dessert."
"Just ice cream."
"Ice cream is ice cream. Is there chocolate sauce?"
She grinned slightly. "There might be."
"Cool."
"And I'm still not going to tell you about Joe Franklin."
"You don't have to. I'll find out for myself one way or the other."
She slammed the sponge down and turned to glare at him. "But why? Why do you have to know everything that is none of your damn business?"
"Because I happen to care what happens to you, that's why!" he shouted back at her. "You think I like watching you look over your shoulder all the damn time? It's annoying and people are starting to talk, you know."
She blinked. "What? What are they saying?"
"That you're possibly schizo, and that's why you were on the streets. Cause you're batshit crazy, and a few other colorful epithets. That's not going to help you get your medical license back."
"What am I supposed to do then, House? He knows where I am and it's only a matter of time before he shows up here."
"Let me help you."
"Do what?" she asked in despair.
"How the hell should I know? I've never had a mobster after me before!"
"You're not helping!"
"Then tell me what you need me to do!"
"I don't know!" she shouted.
She broke down in tears and turned away from him, sobbing quietly as her whole body shook.
House didn't know what to do, other than to get her to stop crying as soon as possible. Seeing nurses cry never bothered him but Cameron's tears tore at him and he couldn't stand it anymore. Sighing, he pulled her against him and let her sob all over his favorite band T-shirt.
"I'm scared," she said, barely in a whisper that he could hear.
"Then let me help you," he said as he awkwardly patted her back, unsure of what else to do.
"I don't know how you can."
"Let me worry about that," he sighed.
What could he do? How could he protect her? House wasn't going to let some two-bit mobster scare her any longer, that much he was sure of.
The next morning as they left the apartment for work, a small grey car was parked across the street. A man with a camera slouched in the front seat and snapped pictures of House and Cameron as they got into his car and drove away. The man tossed the camera on the passenger seat, started the car, and did a U-turn. He stayed several car lengths behind the Dodge Dynasty but kept it in view. He parked so that he could see them as they got out and walked into the hospital. Once they were inside, he pulled out of the parking lot and drove away.
He went to the shop where Joe Franklin worked, which was just a front for his real career, and went in. "Yo, boss. I got some good pics of her. She's living with some older guy, a cripple."
"And….what else?" Joe sat behind his desk, sipping his coffee and whiskey as he listened with interest.
"Looks like they work together at a hospital."
"Which one?"
"Some teaching hospital in Princeton."
"Interesting. Who's the old guy?" Joe took another sip.
"I don't know. You want I ask around?"
"Yeah, do that."
"You got it, Boss," the man said and quickly left.
So, Allison was off the streets. That was good. Joe didn't like the idea of her living like that. However, if she'd just done what he told her to do, she would be living in the lap of luxury with him as his pretty wife without a worry in the world. But no, she insisted on going to school to better herself.
"Pfft," Joe scoffed as he added more whiskey to his coffee. "Women got no place in medicine. It's a man's profession." Didn't he tell her that a hundred times? Of course, she would have none of it and still insisted on getting her degree.
Still, he just couldn't let go. He would need more information about the older guy before he decided on what his next step would be.
