Cameron pushed her shopping bag into the truck as she got in behind the wheel. Closing the passenger door, Chase glanced over as the bag touched him. "This is for you," she announced. "It's your souvenir."

"Aw. That's sweet." He retrieved the item and held it out. "Uh, a dress?"

She was smiling as she took it from him. "Keep looking."

"Better not find a hot pink thong," he murmured, as he again reached into the bag. He grimaced and groaned as he pulled out a red bikini. "Cameron, you've got to be kidding me. Tell me it's not mine!"

"I bought it for me."

"Good. I guess. Ex-wife." He again delved into the contents of the bag and pulled out a camera. He looked inquisitively at her. "Right, because of my career as a professional photographer?"

"I thought we could take some photos, and you could hang them up in your office."

He smiled at her and affectionately touched her arm. And sitting in the backseat, House pointed his eyes to the window and tried not to feel overlooked. It was stupid. He didn't like affection, and he didn't like people. He liked one thing; his rational mind. Why did he feel so irrationally alone?

Rather than buckle up, he swung his legs up onto the seat and reclined, allowing his thoughts to take control as his colleagues conversed only with each other. And realized that if Wilson was there, he wouldn't get overlooked. Wilson might, but he would be there, feeding Boy Scout cookies to his hungry ego. And these two "friends" hadn't spoken to him in five minutes. Not to mention the way Chase had blamed him for the beatdown. Or the way Cameron had told him to shut up. Having rationalized his only current means to have fun, he discreetly slipped his hand into her purse and retrieved her phone.

Her laughter pushed him off the edge and he wrote a text, sending it to her husband. Then he discreetly returned the phone.

"That is not why I bought the bathing suit!" Cameron exclaimed. "I'm not wearing it."

House looked over then, and his voice made her jump guiltily. "Let Chase wear it. He's got nicer legs than you do."

Cameron turned beet-red and started the car.

"Bastard," Chase muttered.

Cameron eked out of her parking space and headed for the exit. As she was waiting to turn into traffic, her phone started going off. She turned on her hands-free phone. "Hi, honey. I'm just on my way—"

"What the hell, Cameron? How can you do this to me?"

"Wait, what are you—"

"We have a child together, and you break up with me in a text?!"

"Whoa! Mike, I didn't—"

"God! Just be glad you're not here right now! You bitch." He hung up roughly, and Cameron stared speechlessly out into the traffic, hardly aware that an impatient shopper was honking their horn.

Then Chase's voice asked, "House, what did you do?"

Cameron gritted her teeth. "Check my phone," she said, and Chase attacked her purse, liberating her phone and accessing her mail. "Uh, oh, God," he muttered. "'Hey, babe. Just letting you know I shared my bed with a colleague and now I'm going to put on a bikini and let him take pics. XX, Allison. P.S. Those Xs indicate our dead marriage.'"

The car was so quiet, only the rustle of fabric could be heard as Chase returned her phone. Then suddenly the back doors unlocked.

"Get out."

"Can't," House said. "I don't have a ride."

"You don't seriously expect me to give you money?" she asked incredulously, still facing forward.

"Well, if you prefer, I can steal some more."

"Get out of my car!" she screamed, and House was quick to oblige. He got to his feet and barely had the time to close the door before she peeled out of the exit. House limped off to the side and turned around, motioning the driver forward; only to find himself looking at Logan. He continued sitting idle, just looking at House; and didn't protest when he got in.

"Shit," was how Logan greeted him. "Guess I'm taking you to America."

House reached for his seatbelt, looking over as Logan held up his pack of cigars.

"Damn it, Mike, answer your phone," Cameron mumbled, as the incessant ringing filled her truck. But it went to voicemail. "Hey. It's me. I did not send that text, okay? I'm sure you remember House; it was him, he took my phone... I don't know why. Nobody knows why he does half the things he does. But you have to believe me. I don't want to break up with you! And that stuff in the text...come on now, that doesn't sound like me, does it? Hey!" she yelled, hitting the brakes and honking her horn as a smashed-up Subaru Outback swerved in front of her. Cameron's reaction went unobserved by the driver behind her, who rear-ended her vehicle. Already furious from the previous incident, she shocked Chase by yelling, "Motherfucker!"

"Whoa! Easy, there. It's not visible," he said, upon swiveling in his seat.

"That's not the point, okay?"

"My God, tell me you have car insurance!"

"Of course I do! If you're looking for an idiot, look in the mirror!"

He frowned at her, and she quickly amended her words. "Because you'll see the person who slammed into me... I have to pull over," she mumbled, and searched for a breakdown lane. But, upon pulling into it, she saw the dented Subaru go speeding past. "Shit! Shit!" she uttered, and covered her eyes. With a groan, she said, "This was supposed to be a good day."

Chase thought for a minute, then glanced over at her. "That's the problem, isn't it?" he asked. "They're all supposed to be good days."

She dropped her hands, looking over at him in tired, sad defeat. "Are you saying House is right, to always be pessimistic?"

"I'm saying optimism comes with a lot of disappointments."

She let her head fall on the back of her seat, maintaining eye contact. He just gazed solemnly at her, waiting for an answer. Not finding one, she asked, "Are you okay?"

"Sure. Why do you ask?"

"You've been acting weird since I came and got you. You've been distracted, and nervous; you threw away a lot more alcohol than you said you would, and you couldn't even sleep it off."

"I'm fine," he lied.

"You don't need to lie to me. We've been through a lot together."

"I'm not lying."

Cameron looked up ahead, setting her jaw; then looked quickly back at him. "After nine years of being lied to by patients, you think I'm too stupid to recognize dishonesty?"

"That's not what I'm saying."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm just trying to answer your question. Look, if you were stupid, we never would have met."

She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. "Yes, I'm aware we work in the same field, Chase. I'm also aware that you've been tapping your fingers every minute."

Her words caused him to stop abruptly, putting his hands in his lap. "Okay. I was lying. But there is no point in discussing it. You can't help me."

"How can you be certain if you won't let me try?"

"You've tried helping me before, Cameron...and you just made things worse."

Cameron's expression went flat, and she decided to ignore him, reaching up and adjusting her rearview mirror. The car was quiet, until suddenly there were sounds over her hands-free car phone. Then Michael said, "Like when she and her colleague left me a voicemail."

"Michael! Please, let me talk," she begged. "I didn't send you that text, I would never send—"

The call disconnected. Cameron quickly looked over her shoulder before pulling out of the breakdown lane. "Okay, I have to go home," she muttered. "I have to show him there are no pictures, and I need you to confirm that it wasn't me."

"And after you go home?" Chase asked. "How will I?"

"Take a cab to the airport," she said off-handedly.

Chase turned his attention up front and would say nothing.

She spared him a quick glance. "Oh—cheer up. You're not the one who still has to make payments on this...damn car."

He frowned, figeting slightly in his seat. "The damage is minor. It can be salvaged, and so can your marriage."

"Yeah, you can't help me, either, Chase! The only proof I have that the pictures don't exist is the delete button. I...certainly can't prove House sent the text if he's not here," she added, as she began to slow even though there were no traffic lights or stop signs anywhere in sight. She frowned prettily at the vehicle ahead of them, and she spoke in a soft, wounded voice. "I shouldn't have kicked him out of the car."

Chase watched the speed meter continue to decrease, until someone honked from behind. "Cameron, you're stopping," he informed her, as the driver swerved around them.

She looked at him with a rather blank look on her face, almost as though she had forgotten she was behind the wheel; then she stepped on the gas. Not knowing how else to comfort the one person he knew as much as he knew himself, Chase muttered, "I'll report the driver."

He took out his phone and Cameron focused on the road.

"I swear, I did not, would never, break up with you," Cameron said. She sat on the coffee table, facing her husband, who sat on the couch. She gripped his lifeless hands, and the daylight shone on her back. Her face was completely and unusually dead serious; a side of her not many people had seen.

"Well, you keep blaming House; I'd like to hear it from him."

"I know. I know you do, and I know you need to, but...I left him at the side of the road. But Chase is here," she began, and he interrupted.

"No, no, no. I don't want to talk to him."

"It never happened."

"I want to hear it from House," he insisted.

"Fine," she muttered, and took out her phone. She put her phone on loud speaker, then brandished it for him to hear. But after multiple rings, it went to voicemail. "You've reached Dr. House. Leave a message and I'll erase it as soon as possible."

The machine beeped, and Cameron eventually hung up without speaking. She finally met her husband's eyes, still holding her phone. "I'll try again later," she said faintly.

"You know what, I don't think this is worth the trouble." Michael stood up, ignoring her devastation. I'm filing for divorce...suing for sole custody."

"Wait, what, why?" she stammered. "Michael," she screamed, as he grabbed his keys. But he was unresponsive, roughly letting himself outside and leaving the door open. Stricken, she sat still, until she was overwhelmed by tears.

Then a hand touched her knee. She looked up quickly into Chase's concerned face. Sobbing uncontrollably, paralyzed with fear, she wrapped her arms around his neck and stared over his shoulder as she listened to her world collapse.

Speaking into her hair, his voice was muffled. "I'm really too old to be on the floor."

She hesitantly released him, wiping her right eye with her left hand before Chase was gently pulling her to her feet. They embraced again, and she rested her cheek on his clothes. "You were wrong."

"I'm sorry."