House was laying perfectly still, trying to force his body to relax without opiates and listening to the soft taps coming from Cuddy's smartphone when something very strange happened. His eyes came open and he reached for the door...without telling himself to move a muscle.

"Where are you going?"

"I have no idea."

"What―" Cuddy watched him stand up, leaving his cane behind. She grabbed it and opened her door, but realized he was walking around the car to the driver's side. She scooched over, frowning at him as he sat in the driver's seat.

He appeared to share her confusion, but his words and sudden English accent only baffled her more. "I'd like to tender my apologies, but I've located your oppo."

"Uh, okay. And who the hell talks that way?"

"At the school, they call me Professor."

Cuddy was staring at him in complete confusion as he started the car. "You're weird off Vicodin."

"What's Vicodin?"

She tapped her fingers on her purse. "Right..."

"Age... It's a remarkable thing, isn't it? Cars are so simple, and here I'm more familiar with my ship," House chuckled. With the grace of a frail old man, he began to drive. "I've been watching you for awhile. Normally I wouldn't interfere. See, it gives my students the impression that we are better, and what more effective way to start a war?"

"Yeah. Sorry to interrupt the Professor," Cuddy said sarcastically, "But I'm tuning you out."

House smiled as she put on her headphones, and he continued to drive in silence.

Cuddy snapped out of her thoughts as House stopped the car at the side of the road. A ways ahead of them was a very small wooden shack, taller than it was long and falling apart. It didn't even have a door. The headlights shone in easily, bouncing off the opposite wall and coming through the cracks in the wood.

"She's inside."

Still wearing her headphones, Cuddy only heard the man's accented voice in her head. She looked at House in confusion, and was puzzled by the kindness on his face. "Right," Cuddy repeated, and got out of the car. "Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to walk out of this place?" she mumbled, as she closed her door.

House got out, suddenly looking confused and cynical. He followed Cuddy to the shack and she turned on her flashlight, shining it around the dusty interior...until her light struck a leg wearing a brown leather boot. She found her other foot, which was bare and covered in blood, still gushing.

Cuddy moved the flashlight up to Cameron's white, unconscious face. Then she sighed, clicking it off. "I'll never understand how you do that," she muttered, handing it to him. She went into the cabin, stopping to fight away the cobwebs that had accumulated around Cameron's body; then knelt beside Cameron and started moving her. "This would be so much easier if you had two good legs," she muttered, trying to hoist her unresisting, limp, lifeless―

Then Cameron began fighting her. Weakly, but she was moving. Cuddy released her and she instantly let her hands thump onto the cabin floor, peering up at them with red eyes. House couldn't stop himself from turning the flashlight to its dimmest setting and shining it upon her discolored face. Anger flooded him; he was familiar with the emotion, but not with how powerful it was.

Cameron smiled then, putting all of her strength into holding her head up. "You found me."

"It's going to be okay."

Cameron could barely raise her arm. She hooked it around Cuddy's neck and began moving her legs. House moved to her other side, trying to assist with one good leg and one free hand. He could sense her eyes on him, and he looked over to meet her empty stare. She tried smiling again. "House," she whispered; then her head dropped forward and her eyes slipped shut.

"Shit," House whispered.

"Come on. You first. Turn right..."

"God! I feel like I'm moving a couch."

They got Cameron out into the open and began struggling towards Cuddy's car. The pair locked eyes and she couldn't believe how evil he looked. She doubted it was just the moonlight.

"You're not going to kill him, are you?"

"I think I might."

Cameron's head lifted. "Kill who?"

"Logan," House growled.

She raised her head almost all the way, narrowing her eyes at him, and asked, "Who's that?"

"Uh, the...guy who shot you," Cuddy interjected.

Cameron gaped at her. "You...you know the person who shot me?"

She leaned heavily into House as Cuddy pulled away, digging for her keys. "Uh, none of us really know him. But you used to know Kayla."

"Uh, it doesn't ring a bell," Cameron said.

"Did you hit your head?" Cuddy asked, and began feeling her scalp. "Seems fine. But we're taking you to the hospital, of course."

"Of course."

Cuddy went around the vehicle, and Cameron did a little hop away from House, climbing into the backseat and giving him as little work as possible. He lingered, touching her as much as possible. "Hey, don't...overdo it. I'm here. Okay?"

She sat down, her eyes lingering on his bad leg before hastily flying up to meet his gaze.

"You don't remember Logan, you don't remember Kayla... What the hell do you remember?"

"Everything else. My medical training, everybody you hired."

"Prove it."

"Taub, Foreman, Chase..."

"Okay, good. Real good."

"But I don't remember how I got here," she finished. Hearing Cuddy's impatient voice, she scooted away from the door and House closed it.

"Yeah," he muttered to himself. "Me, too."

Cuddy's muffled voice called his name. He circled the vehicle, this time getting into the backseat with Cameron. She was slumped down and shaking, and muttering incoherently. He leaned a little closer, trying to catch what she was saying; then her voice drifted off. He pulled back, disheartened to realize that she was gone again. House sighed, watching her for a moment, then bent down and unzipped the one boot she wore. Taking it with him as he withdrew, he opened his window and chucked it out of the car as they sped away from the cabin.