The familiar hospital setting was just as homey in Canada. At least, it would have been, if he wasn't there as a visitor. He had actually forgotten what it was like―the anxiety, the restlessness, the hope that every doctor he saw was hers, coming to deliver good news. The simultaneous fear that every doctor he saw was hers, coming to deliver bad. He sat, leaning forward, propping up his head and tossing an interested glance at every pair of feet that passed him by. The rustle of glossy pages to his left announced Cuddy's presence, broken only by the PA system that grated his nerves.

Then she sighed, plopping the book down on the coffee table in front of them. "Do you want anything from the vending machine?"

He was quiet, but finally offered a shake of his head. "We shouldn't be here."

She stared at him, making several incoherent sounds before finding her voice. "We finally have her with us, and you want to leave?"

"There's nothing we can do here. I need a bed."

She gazed at him, her eyes naturally finding his cane, hooked over the arm of the vacant seat next to him. "I know you do," she said, and took out her keys. "Take my car."

"What, you're not coming?"

"I can't."

"She's sedated. She wouldn't know it if you...blasted music into her ear. She won't," he hastily promised the concerned MR. "I promise."

She gave a reluctant nod and turned her attention back to the computer screen.

House sighed, lowering his voice. "You are not the Dean of Medicine here. Not only is staying useless, it's...senseless. Okay?"

She looked around the waiting room, then moved with him as he stood up. He surprised her by putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in tight as they headed for the exit. "It'll be okay."

"Every time you say that something bad happens."

"You're right, I'm lying. Her condition, Logan, Kayla...the bullies in the van; we'll probably all die before we make it back to the hotel. Feel better?"

"The part of me that's thinking... At least he's being straight with me feels better. The part of me that thinks you're embellishing your point―"

"Is there anything I can do right in your eyes?"

"If I'm such a witch, why aren't you going by yourself?"

They untangled themselves and faced each other. She crossed her arms. "I don't know how it was for you or Chase, but I'm pretty sure Cameron would want to see us when she wakes up."

"Which won't be for several hours after the surgery they're prepping her for. Which will also take a few hours. You really want to hang out here until tomorrow just to tell her we're going to the hotel we could be going to right now?"

"This is surreal for you, isn't it? You feeling a little homesick?"

"No."

"Really? Because I can think of no other reason you'd want to avoid the hospital and the person we've spent the last few days searching for."

"No reason," he rumbled.

"Of course there's a reason! Everything has a reason; that's what you're always telling us."

"Okay!" he said abruptly, startling her. "I drove my car into your living room. I almost killed you, almost killed your daughter... What reason do you have for choosing me over her?"

"I didn't choose you over Rachel..."

"Then why are you here?"

She frowned at him. "Uh, you needed me. And you were not bleeding out."

"Cameron's not bleeding out, not anymore."

Cuddy hesitated, then graced him with her smile. "Are you trying to sleep with me?"

"No! God, no. Don't make me throw up in the mouth."

He limped past her. Forced to make a fast decision, she turned and followed him towards the exit. "I thought you said you could sleep anywhere."

"No, I said I could sleep anywhere with Vicodin and wine, neither of which I have."

"I can't believe I'm suggesting this, but you can probably get Vicodin right now."

"Nope. Not available in Canada."

"Oh. Shoot."

"Yeah, shoot. Now I have to recover." He quirked a brow at her.

"Well, I'm not buying you wine. It's weird enough I'm sharing a hotel room with you."

"Can you really think of nothing else besides avoidance and trying to get into your pants?"

"Of course. But seeing as how you're avoiding the question, I'm left to speculate." She pushed open one door and House pushed open the other. They made their way into the parking lot, which reflected the lights on the wet surface. "You didn't even harass the receptionist, so avoidance is probably the safest bet, but I would be loath to not cover all bases..."

"Is this what I sound like?"

"Yeah, but you do it more."

"I'm sorry. Please shut your mouth."

She grinned at him. "No. Have you formed an aversion to hospitals?"

House spared her a brief glance, wondering if kissing her would shut her up. "You're taking numbers from strangers in foreign countries, so I'm assuming you used in-vitro. Which is okay, now that she won't be totally alone. I mean... Rachel is busy a lot, and your kid'll still be a bastard child, but it's better to have one percent of a family than zero, am I right?"

"You're not bugging me. You're a complete ass, but you're not bugging me. You found Cameron, we got her to the ER, I'm just relieved."

"I found her?"

"Please," she said calmly. "Don't play the amnesia card with me. It's an insult to people who actually have it." She looked down and started rummaging through her purse. "I better call the authorities and let them know."

They crossed the parking lot and Cuddy got into her car, where she could drown out some background noise. House leaned on the door, stretching his legs awhile longer and peering anxiously around the parking lot. When the car engine came to life, he finally got into the vehicle, buckling up and brushing the rain from his hair.

"I'll stop at the liquor store if you want me to."

"I'll be fine."

"Good. There are few things I hate more than a drunk. And sober you is near intolerable."

"Aren't you sweet."

She smiled and began to drive. "Did you and Cameron have a fight?"

"No."

"Do you owe her money?"

"No, but I'll give you money to stop talking."

She smiled again. "House, I'm just giving you a taste of your own medicine."

"What could you possibly know about medicine?" he chortled.

Appearing happy and relaxed, she only said, "Call your mother. And tell her the truth."

He looked out the window. "Yeah, I guess... I guess I have a few calls to make. My mom, the department... Think Chase'll ever talk to me again?"

"Yes."

He sighed, sparing her a glance as he reached into his pocket. "Damn."

The hallway was quiet as they made their way back to the hotel room, at least until a sudden snap made her cringe. She glanced to her left at House, who was putting away his cell phone. He met her questioning eyes. "Two days," he growled.

"Till?"

"Sunday. I promise not to kill anyone until then."

She rolled her eyes. "That's all I ask," she sighed, as she got out the card key. Just then realizing she would have sent him to sleep in the hallway, she was ducking her head in shame as she unlocked the door, hoping he was too hung up on personal issues to notice.

She opened the door and stood in front of it, preventing it from banging into him as he limped past her. Holding her head up high, she turned and flipped the sign to Do Not Disturb, then quietly closed the door. House was making a break for the beds, so she disappeared into the washroom.

Coming out, she saw him leaning on the wall watching TV, looking lost in thought and tired. She went in between the beds and sat on the edge of hers, facing him while watching the show. Until he muted it. She looked at him and their eyes locked.

"Room service?" she asked.

"Already ordered," he answered. Then he was quiet, still studying her until she felt awkward.

"Um, so, did you order for just you, or..."

"Both of us. And, no meat."

"Not even for you?"

"Not even."

She smiled then, fighting her hormones. "Thank you."

"No sweat. I mean, you can sweat if you want. I wouldn't mind."

She rolled her eyes. "So close to a sweet moment."

"Too bad. Cable sucks," he grumped, and clicked the TV off.

"Well, I'm just going to eat and sleep. I'm friggin exhausted," she sighed, dropping her head into her hands. "I mean, I'll try to sleep. I probably won't."

"I hear that."

She raised her eyes and watched him stare vacantly at the opposite wall. "House―"

"She's going to lose her foot. You know that, right?"

Cuddy stood up and then bent forward, crawling onto his bed.

"I know."

"She's going to be in a wheelchair. What's the reason behind that?" he asked, and gave a subtle shake of his head. "Choices. Clueless idiots running around, thinking they can control the chaos... Can't even control their―" He looked up as there was a knock on their door, and Cuddy got up, swiftly crossing the room and grabbing her purse.

Opening the door, she backed up as a man wheeled in a cart laden with food. The three of them unloaded the cart, Cuddy paid him, and thanked him as he backed out of the room, dragging the tray back with him. House closed the door, then rubbed a hand across his forehead.

"What if she gets metal poisoning?" he muttered, as Cuddy started separating her share from his.

"Can we please drop it, at least during dinner?"

"I do want to be there, of course I do."

She quelled a sigh, briefly meeting his eyes as he sat beside her, still grumbling.

"Her choices. My choices. Yours. Everything in the universe working together just to give her a bullet in the foot and...memory loss, apparently, like the two are remotely connected. Totally undiagnosable, unless her temporal lobe is in her heel."

"Yeah, I think it's safe to trash that theory."

"And no second theory. Means...she's screwed."

"She'll get a prosthetic foot. It'll take some time to adjust, but she'll be okay."

"If she keeps her foot, she's an idiot."

Cuddy met his depressed blues and gave a reluctant nod. "Yeah."

The familiar hospital setting was...home. The only discernible difference as House limped for the exit was that Cuddy was sitting at the front desk. He stopped in front of her. "4:03 PM, Dr. House checks out, please write that down," he said, obviously annoyed to be saying it for the 3,247th time.

"I don't think so. You have a patient in exam room one." Cuddy stood up then, and House looked down at her large belly.

"Wow. Eight months along, or eight months due?"

"Shut up."

"At least now your tuchus looks smaller," he said, snatching the file she was holding out. He turned, and instead of heading towards the exam rooms, he carried the file to the exit, not hearing a word of protest from the much-too-pregnant Cuddy. The moment he stepped out into the night, he no longer held the file in his hand. And there was a city bus, just sitting there, taking up all the space. Not realizing it was out of the ordinary, he walked to the bus. The door was open so he climbed on. No driver. He looked to his right, at the seats.

Only one passenger. He turned and began limping down the aisle.

"What's the prognosis?" Cameron asked.

"We think you're going to lose your foot."

"I see."

He frowned at her calm acceptance. "You're not...scared, you're not angry?"

"Should I be?" she asked, and her eyes followed him as he scooted into the seat in front of her, still facing her. "I'm a doctor, not an athlete."

"You're crippled."

She tilted her head, gazing at him. "That doesn't mean I can't make a difference."

He shook his head. "Do I need to be angry for you? This is...wrong. You don't deserve―"

"What do you want from me?" she asked.

He was quiet for a moment, then raised his eyes to hers. "Get off the bus."

A hypnic jerk woke House. He lay still for a moment, then reached up and rubbed his face before pulling at his hair. Inhaling sharply, he began turning over onto his side―

Suddenly a gunshot exploded through the night. Cuddy lurched into a sitting position before she had even opened her eyes. Feeling like a scared little boy, House's entire body had tensed up. He lay there listening to his heartbeat and wondering how he still felt dry. Waiting for Logan to break into the hotel room to put a bullet in his forehead.

Then faint shouting got his attention. He pushed back the covers and walked to the window, putting his shoulder against the wall. Without touching the curtain, he peered past it, inspecting the activity nearby.

Quiet sobs redirected him to the barely visible outline of his bed. He blindly felt for his cane, then felt his way around his bed to hers. He knelt, locating her shaking shoulder. "Just the gas station across the street. Nobody we know."

"Cameron... House, we need to find Cameron!" she sobbed.

"Hey. We did. Remember?" he said, and pushed her dark mane of curls out of her face with a surprising tenderness. "She's in the hospital, she's not in danger."

"Right," she whispered.

He wiped away her tears. "I...I'm sorry. You shouldn't be here."

With a soft whimper, her arms came up around his neck. He grabbed her tight and wouldn't let go.