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A.N. I'll likely upload another chapter tomorrow since I won't be able to update again until the new year. Watch out for it!


House ambled into the joint office and flung his rucksack onto the nearest chair. Chase recovered first and began walking towards his boss, who had thrown himself into a seat at the end of the table and was stretching both arms above his head like a cat awaking from a deep sleep. "It's good to have you back, House", said Chase, extending his hand.

A pointed look. "What, are we handshakers now? I've literally never shaken your hand before, skippy, and I'm not going to start now. I've no idea where you Australians have been or what kind of third world germs you're carrying".

Chase's hand fell to his side.

House yawned and scratched the side of his face absentmindedly before continuing: "Dr. Foreman? I have to say that I'm surprised to see you here after your disappointing showing the last time we were in this room together. A man pulls a gun on me and homeboy over here does nothing but watch—I thought you guys were always packing? If word reaches the street, well, it doesn't bear thinking about, does it?".

Foreman said nothing but instead folded his arms across his chest with a smirk.

"Just kidding. Up high, my man". House threw his arm forward, fist clenched. The other sighed, but extended his own fist all the same, meeting his boss in an imaginary bump from across the room. "Ah, Dr. Cameron", he continued, getting up from his position at the table and walking towards the woman, who upon hearing his voice from the doorway had remained rooted to the spot, next to Foreman.

As House approached her, she had a sudden vision of a panther stalking its prey.

He came right up to where she was standing, looming over her. Cameron tried to look into his eyes but found that she couldn't, for fear of what she might see there; what he might see in her. "Dr. Cameron", repeated House, whose voice had taken on a gravelly quality. He brought a large hand up to her chin and tilted her face upwards, forcing her to look into his eyes which, thanks to the morning sunshine filtering through the nearby window, looked almost supernaturally blue.

"Welcome back", she croaked, her throat suddenly parched.

"Is that fresh coffee I smell? Would you do the honours? You know how I like it". House threw a wink before turning away.

Cameron, who hadn't realised that she had been holding her breath, exhaled softy, hoping not to draw attention to the fact. She couldn't have noticed the grimace of displeasure which flashed across Chase's face. The Australian, still smarting from House's abrupt dismissal, had seen everything. He didn't think he deserved such shoddy treatment, and he certainly didn't appreciate Cameron's heightened reaction to their boss. She clearly had something for him still, despite everything he had done.

Chase simply couldn't understand it. House, who treated her like a glorified table-tender, received all the attention while he, who had always treated her with respect and care, got nothing but the cold shoulder. Sooner or later she would see House for what he really was. Chase had nothing against House per se: he was a brilliant doctor and cared, in his own warped manner, for those around him. But he couldn't fathom how women found the grumpy misanthrope attractive, and he was convinced that Cameron would be much better off if she left her infatuation for the old man behind.

House started patrolling the room, hands clasped behind his back, oblivious to the dark look which had swept over Chase's boyish features. "Since it is our first day back at school, you kids will be delighted to learn that daddy has planned a steady reintroduction-".

"-sorry", interrupted Foreman, "but if we're running with the school metaphor, you are surely 'teacher', not 'daddy'".

House stopped his circuit and whirled around. "Man, you are on fire today, Ice Cube. Up high again". Foreman didn't move so House instead bumped his own fists together. "You left me hanging, but I'll still award five points to Slytherin for your initiative".

"Slytherin? Why am I in Slytherin?".

Cameron handed House his fresh cup of coffee and replied for her boss: "y'know…". Foreman looked utterly confused. The woman sighed, uncomfortable that she had to spell it out. "Y'know, because Slytherin tends to produce, ah…", House sipped his coffee but still managed to raise an eyebrow, "…dark wizards", she finished quietly.

"Doctor Cameron", House spewed into his drink, "what a horrible thing to say. For your information, I placed Foreman in Slytherin because of his boundless ambition and complete disregard for other people's feelings. Both admirable qualities worthy of recognition. But for you to turn it into a debate on race, well, frankly I'm appalled". House placed his mug on the table before continuing: "you're lucky that I'm not one for diligent record-keeping or else this unfortunate occurrence would find its way into your personnel file, make no mistake about that!".

Silence.

"Anyway", he remarked conversationally, taking up the mug again, "if anyone deserves to be in Slytherin, it's you, Cameron", he paused, before whispering conspiratorially into her ear: "since you…like it black".

The immunologist gasped and could feel her face burning, not only because House had obviously heard far more of the fellows' prior conversation than he let on, but also because the sensation of his warm breath on her ear, combined with his stubble against her cheek and his unique aroma in her nostrils, caused an unexpectedly erotic sense to shudder through her body. The one thing about House that she had missed the most was his smell. It was hard to describe and a complete one-off. She had no idea if it was simply some sort of cologne or a complex natural combination of the books, wood, leather, and scotch of his apartment. She had never smelled it on another man before or since and hoped not to: it was House.

While Cameron had been standing at the coffee pot listening to her boss talk, she had been stealing surreptitious glances. The weeks off had treated him well. His skin had developed an attractive, slightly bronzed hue, which placed the brightness of his eyes in higher relief (though it had the unfortunate side effect of making her even more self-conscious of her paleness). The hair was as dark as she remembered, though shot through with a touch more grey, and his mouth seemed readier to smile.

The biggest change, obviously, was in his movements. So used had she become to his lopsided gait and hunched posture that to see him now in full flow was like watching a different person. Not for the first time this morning, she thought of a panther as he prowled the office with a feline grace. Cameron knew that House had loved rowing and lacrosse before his infarction and she suspected, with the way that his shoulders and arms moved, the way that his legs betrayed not the slightest glimmer of a limp, that he had resumed his exercise regimen. There was no other way to put it: the man radiated power. Combined with his sharp intelligence, he filled out a heady sight. Pull it together, Allison, for God's sake. Suddenly determined to break free from the spell, she took his empty mug to the sink.

"As I was saying", resumed House, seemingly unaware of the effect he was having on his youthful subordinate, "a gentle reintroduction. To that end, we—and by 'we' I mean 'you'—will be spending today catching up on our—and by 'our' I mean 'my'—charts, mail, and reports. As you can imagine, there's a frightful backlog, and not just since the, ah, shooting". A tiny flicker passed over House's face. "Since we are among friends, I don't mind confessing to you that I may have let the paperwork slide a bit even before that".

"Sliding for how long, exactly?", muttered Chase between clenched teeth. He had witnessed Cameron's reaction to House both times. This, combined with the revelation that his highly paid fellows, three of the best doctors in the hospital, would be completing his paperwork for the rest of the day, had soured his mood beyond rescue.

"Oh, it's hard to say", mused House, flexing his fingers, "but if you were to hold a gun to my head–, sorry, poor choice of words", he added, having seen Cameron flinching, "I'd say, about three months. Give or take a month. So", he finished, "you'd best get started".

"And what are you going to be doing whilst we're completing your chores?", asked Foreman, who had expected this assignment or something like it. House would want to re-establish his authority over the department as quickly as possible. He was an alpha male, and somebody had not only trespassed on his territory, already an unforgivable offence, but had almost killed him, thereby undermining him in front of his subordinates. Foreman had known House long enough to acknowledge that he did not brook competitors, and he did not respond well to threats. Even Vogler, brimful of money and political clout, had been seen off in the end. This is what Chase, with his own Cameron obsession, didn't seem to understand. If it came to a straight fight for her affections it would get bloody, of that Foreman was certain.

"Me?", pronounced House, as if taken by surprise. "Well, I hadn't really thought about it, but I suppose I'd best check in with the principal. Her ovaries will be bursting to see me, no doubt". He turned to leave, hand on the door handle. "Hey, Cameron?", he asked, as if a thought had suddenly come to him.

"What is it, House?", sighed the immunologist. She had put on her glasses to read a pile of charts and peered over the lenses.

Despite himself, and unknown to the others, House's pupils widened. He loved her in glasses. "You never answered my question".

"What question?".

"Do I have a chance?".

Cameron blushed again and started to stammer a reply: "I, er… you, er-".

"-good to know, thanks!". With that, he turned on his heel and jogged from the room, his sneakers squeaking off into the distance and out of sight.

House was back, and Diagnostics was again open for business.