A/N: Hopefully this is the shift you guys (and I!) have been waiting for :). I hope the way this ends is realistic and well-received as I had a couple of ways I was going to go with it, but I think this works... Comments would be super appreciated :)

Looking up from his attempt to balance his credit card on top of a biro, House watches silently as Cameron sits down opposite him. He's opted for a seat at one of the few tables available rather than a stool at the bar, deeming the chairs provided likely to be more comfortable for the blonde's hip than perching up high. He hopes she hasn't clued in on this, partly because he's a little thrown by the fact that he hasn't turned this realisation into a rather cruel game to see if she might ask if they can move, and partly because he's aware that Cameron doesn't tend to appreciate being pandered to. It's on the tip of his tongue to call her out on this and argue that she should make up her mind whether she wants to be treated considerately or not, but he bites back that particular barb as he knows full well the consideration the blonde so often accuses him of lacking is for her feelings. For her heart.

It's also on the tip of his tongue to comment on the way that she's dressed - planning to put a sarcastic spin on his appreciation, of course - but again, he bites back the urge; opting instead simply to study her openly until she lowers her attention a little uneasily to the candle centring the table.

"You're late."

House greets her finally, and Cameron glances up at him sharply and sighs.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. It was a compliment."

"How's that?"

"You're always so punctual; so polished. I'm impressed."

"By the fact that I'm ten minutes late?"

"Twenty-two, and yes. From you, it's weirdly attractive."

House informs the blonde seriously, and she shakes her head in mock despair, cordially ignoring the way he examines her openly and wondering whether his use of the term might actually be for what he sees.

She doesn't ask and instead explains with a small shrug

"Well, I'm flattered you're so easily impressed, but I'm still sorry. I didn't realise it had been that long."

"Dolling yourself up?"

House teases, drinking in soft curls and the uncharacteristically dark hue of her lipstick; presumably applied in an attempt to hide the grazing beneath, the outcome of which he finds strikingly favourable.

"I didn't know what to wear... Because of my hip."

"I see. How is it?"

He asks dutifully, certain that she's tacked on this last part to save face and that there's a lot more to it than physical comfort.

"Sore, but I'll live."

"Third time's the charm?"

"Let's hope."

"And your hands?"

"What about them?"

"Chase said there was blood on the lockers and that it was most likely yours."

"Oh."

"Show me."

House demands curiously, and the blonde complies, laying her hands out on the table between them to show him a couple of abrasions to her knuckles, before turning her palms to the ceiling to display several bruises and small lacerations at her fingertips. He catches her eyeing the brace strapped around his wrist - having disposed of the sling after only a few hours of wearing it in frustrated annoyance - but doesn't offer to reciprocate; merely leaning forward to inspect the purple thunder colouring the nail-beds of her left hand.

"It's just from when I tried to pry the barrel open. My grip slipped and I messed my hands up a little. Nothing that needed any work."

"'Just' from when you tried to catch a peek of a dead body. 'Just' that... You know, you do have clearance to lurk around the morgue. You don't have to get so creative, Cameron."

"House."

She warns with a disapproving scowl, glancing over her shoulder to check that their unsavoury conversation isn't going overheard, before hiding her hands back beneath the table and offering up an explanation for what might seem like rather strange behaviour to an outsider.

"If I'd known what was in there - that she was in there - I would never have tried to open the barrel. I thought it would be full of seed or fertiliser or something. Anything but what was in there. I was just trying to hide."

She reasons, and House nods, studying her raptly as the reality of her admission hits him hard.

Trying to hide. Trying to hide because you were scared that something bad might happen if you got caught. Something likely to be painful.

Fatal.

"Why did you go down there?"

He asks finally.

"You would have given me hell if I hadn't. All evidence pointed to seventh, and Foreman has greater resolve than I do when it comes to standing his ground against you."

"Not to seventh. I mean down into the storage room. The place was a hole. Why did you go down there, when everything you must have passed on the way should have been a red flag?"

"Same answer."

Cameron sighs, relaying her irritation over the matter bitterly

"What was I supposed to do? Tell you I'd taken a quick look inside a building that pretty much screamed as being linked to your girls given the chemicals sure to have been used there, but that I'd turned tail because it smelled a bit funny and there were some empty beer cans?... You'd have ripped me apart, House."

"Maybe, but I would then have sent you back with some of the others or taken a look myself."

"I know. It would have been the better option, I know that now... Hell, I knew that then! I just-... I'd reached my limit. I just couldn't bear giving you any more ammunition to pick at me. You'd said you were sorry, and that you hadn't meant to hurt me the way you did, but everything was still so raw, and I made a stupid decision."

The blonde acknowledges, splaying her palms, and House catches her hand to inspect the deepest cut to the side of her index finger more closely; saying nothing about the way her breath catches audibly in her throat.

"You can show me your hip later..."

He murmurs, finally letting her go, and Cameron fixes him with a guarded expression; refusing him an answer as the unspoken tension between them suddenly grows a few degrees colder.

"What do you want to drink?"

House asks finally when that silence threatens to grow teeth.

"Merlot. Malbec. I'm not fussy. Something red."

She shrugs, and he nods as he pushes himself up to order them a bottle and a couple of shots for good measure which he brings back to the table with him.

"That's not red."

Cameron frowns as House slides her the squat tumbler of bourbon.

"Red's on its way."

"Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"A week ago, I might have been."

"But now you've ticked that box?"

The blonde muses coldly, and House throws her a hard glance before knocking back his drink.

She's right. Snide little comments can cut surprisingly deep.

"No. Now I just know you can handle your liquor better than I would have presumed on the face of it."

"Oh. So now it's too much work?"

She counters, and House grits his teeth as he prepares to ask her just what the hell she wants from him before he catches the slight tug to the side of her mouth and realises she's messing with him.

"It's not work when it's fun... And, 'work' suggests I'm endeavouring towards a goal."

"If you choose to take it that way..."

"I'm taking it how you meant it. In which case, the work would be worth it. And it would still be fun."

"It's news to me that you find being around me fun."

Cameron teases, ignoring the rest of the implication hanging between them, and House sighs as he considers his empty glass.

"I admitted I like having you around. Don't make me do it again."

"Yeah, but that could mean anything. 'Fun' is a new word."

"... You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

"I figure it's only fair."

The blonde shrugs, and House shakes his head self-deprecatingly as he agrees gruffly

"I'll give you that."

Watching as Cameron tips back her drink, he considers the deep green hue of her shirt and mutters

"You look nice."

Before glancing up as a young man in a grey waistcoat presents them with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"What was that?"

The blonde asks when they're alone again.

"Nothing."

House replies dismissively, pouring them each a glass.

"Cuddy came to speak to me... I think I'm in trouble."

Cameron sighs, taking a sip of wine as she strives to keep the conversation going; a little nervous as she considers how much merlot is still left in the bottle. The trepidation she feels strikes her as uncharacteristic and a little sad; knowing she would once have relished the opportunity of spending quality time talking with House, but all too aware that things have changed. She's worried he might be suffering a similar sense of discomfort faced with the prospect of having to engage her for an extended period of time, and just hopes he won't say so out loud.

"You're definitely in trouble. Not just with Cuddy, but with all of us. It's a good look on you, I like it, but I'm not sure the others agree."

"She says she's going to give me a disciplinary hearing."

"Oh, to be a fly on the wall and watch that! Just remember, if she tells you to take your shirt off, you don't have to listen to her... Although... She does have the power to dock your pay..."

House muses suggestively, earning himself a sigh.

"I'm not sure she actually does, and I imagine it will be a fully-clothed meeting. Sorry."

"If you're truly sorry, you could always do something to change that. My advice is-"

"-I'm absolutely certain I won't want to follow your advice."

"Shame... Although, my advice beyond crotchless underwear and handcuffs was going to be not to worry about it. She has to give you a formal hearing; she has to cover her back and make sure you're not about to do anything else weird and wonderful. She knows you won't - sadly - but she's required to play the role and act as though she's worried you might lose a couple more of your marbles. She'll give you a slap on the wrist - again, such a wasted opportunity when she could slap somewhere more fun - and send you back out onto the ward to wreak havoc."

"I hope you're right."

"I'm always right."

House shrugs, winking conspiringly when the blonde rolls her eyes.

"... I heard you went to see Lena?"

Cameron interrupts his smug smirking, and when House offers her a cock of his brow, she shrugs.

"I went to see her myself before I left. She didn't seem especially keen to talk to me, which I can understand and then some - it could have gone either way, and to be honest, as long as she's alright, I'm more than fine with keeping some distance from everything that happened - but the nurse that was in with her started on the ward around the same time as I became head attending and I know him well. I tried to make it clear as politely as possible that I really wasn't in the mood to discuss my own well-being, so I asked after hers. He filled me in, and mentioned you'd been by to look in on her."

"Is that not allowed?"

House replies gruffly, prickling beneath the curiosity apparent in her gaze.

"Of course it is, it just surprised me... She's already been figured out."

"Perhaps I just felt inclined to work on my bedside manner?"

"Mm. Well, if you managed to resist waking her up with the sound of a girl screaming, you're certainly improving."

Cameron muses silkily, and House studies her silently for a moment before leaning over to top up her wine. He's not sure whether she's messing with him or if her sarcasm is a veil for genuine agitation; recalling what Chase had told him about the Polish girl's fitful screaming upon their arrival with a mild hint of regret.

He'd wanted to poke at her - always so desperate to pinch and to prod - but he'd not intended to truly upset her.

Saying nothing on the matter, he watches the blonde sip at her drink; her hair washed and styled, her make-up tasteful, her clothes ironed, her hands visibly battered.

"I went to see the girl first."

He confides finally, drinking deeply from his own glass.

"Oh."

"And she had the good manners to receive my company fully awake, so the zombies stayed in my pocket."

House shrugs, keeping his reasoning for stopping in on Lena before checking up on the blonde to himself.

I wanted to get an idea of what I might be faced with. I was worried about what I might see.

"To be honest, I wasn't sure whether you'd come by to see me at all."

Cameron admits, before taking some of the bitterness out of her confession as she explains

"I was actually kind of glad when it wasn't your lot running around sticking tubes places I don't really need any more of my close colleagues to get a better look at - not the ones I sometimes go out for dinner with, anyway! - and once it became apparent that I was going to be fine, I figured I'd missed my window of you finding my condition all that interesting... I just wasn't sure if you'd want to see me. I got your messages when I was trapped down in that room, and I was kind of shocked by them. You sounded genuinely concerned, and I wondered if maybe you were wishing you'd kept that to yourself given that things all worked out okay in the end. Then, when you did come by to check on me and told me you'd gone to my place to try and talk to me, I was even more surprised... Not because you care, it's not that. It sounds a little ungrateful when put the way I've worded it, and I'm not. I just knew that if you came to see me, you'd have to offer me something. Either an apology or an accusation for the way things played out. We wouldn't be able to just not mention how we'd left things, and I wasn't sure if that was something you'd want to do."

"I didn't want to. I had to."

House sighs with a dismissive sniff as though his argument were simply a dry fact that bears little meaning.

Looking back up to meet the blonde's green gaze, he recognises the same cautious depth he feels in his chest reflected back at him calmly.

"... So, which was it? Which was it that had you stalling and missing out on some of the drama?"

"Huh?"

"Were you planning to come to me with an apology or an accusation?"

"I already told you I was sorry."

House growls, and Cameron merely looks at him, unmoved.

"You were sorry I ended up unconscious in a basement of horrors. What would it have been if I had been home that night?"

"... Both... I'd have accused you of making things difficult and for behaving so ridiculously recklessly and going off alone, but I would have tried to acknowledge your reason for doing so. I would have told you I was sorry I'd made you feel so unhappy that you'd wanted to avoid me; that you'd worried I might rip into you as you put it, although I suppose we both know I would have done at first... But, I'd slowly realised that it wasn't just an argument to you. It wasn't a fallout and us being on bad terms the way we've been plenty of times in the past... I made things worse that day in the chapel; your reception made me uneasy, and things didn't go the way I'd planned them to go and I blamed you. That was unfair of me."

"... Did you honestly expect that I'd kiss back after what had happened? Possibly more?"

Cameron raises a brow, considering House with a stern look.

"I shouldn't have."

"But you did."

"I expected you to play true to character... I shouldn't have, but I did."

He repeats.

"That doesn't say a great deal about what you think of my character..."

The blonde muses quietly, and House accepts this icy remark with a small nod; understanding how it must look from her side and struggling with the absurdity of recognising such things.

It's not that I didn't care, it's just you've always forgiven me, and as a creature of habit, of convenience, I allowed that to dampen a lot of cruel remarks and suggestions that should have rung loud; warning. As loudly as they will have done for you beneath your hurt silence on the matter.

Understanding that while, as she has said previously, his apologies are appreciated, they are hardly the fix-all bandaid he'd hoped they might be, he resists the urge to insist once again that he feels rotten for what's happened between them recently in the hope that she'll relent and assure him that it's fine. That she's fine. That his words have patched up her wounds and she's characteristically, sweetly grateful and reveres him, as always, with awe.

"... I went to check in on the girl before coming to see you because I wanted to know what state you were in. I wanted to prepare for what I might see... I'm sure it felt as though I was avoiding you because seeing you would mean talking to you, and that did play a part, but so did the other thing. So did the thought of seeing you lying in one of those beds when that's not where you belong. It's like seeing one of your teachers outside of school doing ordinary, real-person things. It's not right, it's not natural!... When everything was going on at the warehouse, I was dealing with the police yelling over the sirens, trying to figure out who'd pointed the gun and who was hurt. I could see uniforms - cops and our sort - running around further down from my little doomed stage on the steps, but not much more. I got pulled aside, there were cuffs, there was shouting and swearing, and Foreman yelling that my cane wasn't some sort of gentlemanly baton. You get the picture... I didn't see you or the girl. I just heard that they'd found three women - two alive, one deceased - while I was sitting in the ambulance getting checked over... No one knew anything more than that on our side in that van; not what the dead girl looked like, not what she was wearing, nothing. I asked over and over, and no one knew anything. If they'd told us over the radio that the Doe girl was entering a stage of bearing the consistency of soup, I would have at least known that much and presumed you were one of the living, but none of us knew more than what was said over the radio: two living, one dead... A little later, when I confirmed you were one of the living, I thought it would be a much bigger relief than it was. After all, there were still two women being rushed into the ER, and not for immediate testing, but into theatre; suggesting they hadn't simply been sat down there breathing in unknown compounds while sharing make-up tips and celebrity gossip."

"Ah, so there is a small mercy in all of this."

"...You were hurt. You were hurt, and I didn't know what to do about it."

"Hm. I wouldn't bring that up at work."

Cameron warns, and House scoffs quietly and empties the remainder of the wine evenly between their two glasses.

"I'm going to miss working with you..."

He muses, watching curiously as the blonde regards him silently with salt evident, trapped by her lashes. For a moment, he's concerned she might be on the verge of tears, but then she catches him off guard when she fails in her attempt to bite back laughter; her giggling a little hysterical as she shakes with it.

"Ow..."

She groans, clutching her side with an accusatory glower amidst her mirth, and House simply stares, waiting for her to pull herself back under control.

"... I hope you'll forgive me when I tell you I completely disagree with that sentiment."

She addresses him huskily, her hand still held against her hip beneath the table.

"Understood and forgiven."

House grins, finishing off his wine.

"Do you want anything else here, or do you have stuff at home?"

He asks, rather unnecessarily as he recalls the bottles lined up on her coffee table amidst empty glasses; his, Chase's and her own.

Stilling as the blonde promptly adopts that same, guarded expression she'd favoured earlier, House fingers the base of his glass uncomfortably as he suffers her gaze.

"... I'm not fucking you, House."

Cameron states finally, watching as her blunt statement earns her a surprised blink.

"Sorry if that's what you were going for with all this."

She gestures to their glasses and the bottle, and House clenches his jaw, uncomfortable, but he speaks up swiftly before it can evolve into irritation; not wanting the reason for his displeasure to be misconceived.

"You know me better than that."

"I know you're not one to make a habit of asking people out for drinks and friendly chats..."

"Friendly?"

"Very, given the circumstances."

"It's not why I asked you out."

"But you're disappointed..."

"Of course."

House agrees, meeting the blonde's frown with a shrug.

"I like you. I like the conversation, and I like the view. That part's simple, I just wish I'd realised that when it mattered."

"That you liked me?"

"That it was simple."

"It could have been."

"You've never been simple to me."

"Thanks."

Cameron nods, and House struggles to decipher whether her voice is hard with ice or humour.

Allowing the silence to draw out between them - waiting for him to look away and experiencing a brief flicker of contentment when he doesn't - the blonde elaborates softly

"I'm not an argumentative or vengeful person, you know that. I like you too, I've always liked you, but you fucked up, House, and while I would once have been so elated to have you ask me out, I came out tonight feeling pretty nervous about seeing you outside of work. I'm glad I did, I'm glad we've talked, and I feel stupid for spending so long worrying about what to wear and what to say and how to compose myself. I'm never going to not like being around you, and that's difficult for me, because a lot of the time, I really should... You're not always good for me, and right now, I'm sore. I mean that in a lot of ways. If this was a show or a movie, I guess I'd take you home with me and let you do whatever you felt like to 'prove' you were sorry and that we really do make sense together... I'll admit, there's a part of me that would like to, and damn it, she's an idiot... This isn't a show, though, and my emotions aren't really up to being sensationalised to make me appealing and likeable to a broader audience... I'll happily accept proof from you. I'll happily accept whatever it is you have to offer me, but I need to see some of that first, before what you 'offer me' involves being bent over and fucked."

The blonde shrugs, her tone obscurely neutral given her suggestion, and House swallows as he's struck for the hundredth time tonight by the fact that he really does enjoy her company.

"Bent over?"

He growls with an overcompensatory smirk to hide his unsettling feeling of affection.

"Not tonight."

She replies simply, and House nods, accepting her terms, before reprising his sarcastic quip back in the locker room gruffly

"Would next Wednesday be better?"

"That really depends on what happens in the meantime."

Cameron confides seriously, and House grins, considering their empty glasses before looking up to meet arresting green with cool blue.

"One more? Then I'll call you a cab."

"Sure. I'd like that."