When Cameron came to, she didn't open her eyes right away. But she knew time had gone by. The room felt different; both her hands were free and at her sides, nobody was talking, her curtain was dark on the other side, and the pesky urge to urinate was gone. Even her hair felt different. Come to think of it, why weren't people talking? She didn't remember it all, but she knew House and Cuddy had been talking to her. The subject matter was lost, but it felt like Chase had been there, too...

No, that was wrong; he had gone home.

The slight rustle of papers finally called her into wakefulness. Opening her eyes, she blinked, disoriented by how fuzzy everything looked. It actually looked like House was her doctor. She waited for her vision to clear, frowning groggily at House...pretending to be her doctor. White lab coat, clipboard, the works.

Her voice made him look quickly at her. "Is Dr. Simmons shoved into a closet somewhere?"

"No, of course not, I'm not a monster. No, I shoved him into the bathroom."

Cameron struggled to sit up, trying not to notice him watching her like a hawk. "Gagged and hog-tied on the floor?"

"No, he's probably walking around by now."

"House, whatever you're doing―it's not appreciated."

"Really? I'm saving you," he answered casually, making a little mark on her paper. He glanced at her long enough to say, "You're welcome," then began reading her chart aloud. "Patient presented with a gunshot wound to her cuboid, bullet traveled to the medial cuneiform, artery intact, but no exit wound."

"House―"

"Patient underwent FGT to preserve foot―"

"Please stop," she sighed.

"Stop saving you?" he asked, and pulled a face. "That doesn't seem like a normal response."

"You're certainly the authority on normal," she said, with a cringe as she reflected on all of his Houseness.

He mimicked the cringe. "You're certainly the authority on authority."

"Enough to know you don't go around shoving a doctor into the bathroom and wearing his uniform!"

"Sorry. I'm not prohibited to use gentle persuasion and yummy bribes in the hippocratic oath. Or if I am, I guess I missed it. Shocking, I mean, since my career as a book editor depends on my ability to read," he said, his words tumbling to a stop as she continued watching him―a smile on her face. "What are you smiling about, Ms. I'll-never-run-again?"

"I've missed you," she said simply.

House looked at her as long as he was able, then pretended to focus on her chart, mumbling, "That's not a normal response, either."

"It's the meds. What do you mean, gentle persuasion and yummy bribes?"

"I gave him a $10,000 check to take a leak."

Her eyebrows went up and her voice dropped down. "Do you have that kind of money?"

"No. But I'll bounce before the check does. Grab your crutches," he said, tossing the clipboard onto her sheet-covered legs, "And let's bounce."

"Uh," she blew a raspberry, shaking her head.

House paused, in the middle of taking off Dr. Simmons' coat. "What?!"

"Well, I may not have lost my foot, but I did just have an operation."

"Fine. I'll get Chase to play doctor. He's scoped you before, anyway."

Her eyes followed him as he grabbed his cane and limped for the curtain. "He came back," she quietly concluded.

"Well, bad feelings typically do," was all he offered, as he opened the curtain. "Fine, I'll go fetch Dopey while you rest your un-amputated foot."

Closing the curtain, he hobbled towards the door about 20 feet away, and it opened―with a plainclothes man giving House a dirty look.

"Very funny, Lucas. I ought to sue you."

"I'm sorry, sir...I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, you want to play it that way. Alright, if that's the game you want..."

House held up his ID card, greatly confusing the man.

"So, wait, you're not Lucas?"

"Why would I lie?" House asked, and limped away tucking his card into his pocket.

"I guess I just didn't expect he could be compassionate."

Chase frowned at his sandwich, shaking his head. "Your relationship must've been a real snooze."

"You know what I mean. To someone who wasn't his girlfriend, his mom, his―"

"Hand," Chase mumbled, and pulled out his ringing phone. "Speak of the devil. Yeah," he greeted House.

"Your turn to bat."

"What, I thought I was 'stuck with you.' Can I at least finish my sandwich?"

"You can at least bring it with you. I'll...relieve you when Dr. Simmons is off-duty."

"Uh," Chase said to the dial tone. He hung up, put his phone away and began hastily packing his breakfast. "Who the hell's Dr. Simmons?"

"I don't know, but if you want some company..."

"Nah, I'm good. I need to talk to her privately anyway."

"Okay, well―"

"Were the chips yours, or mine?"

"Yours," she lied, and watched him carry the food away.

She was able to finish her meal and dive into seconds by the time House got to the food court. Her eyes roamed up to his as he neared; looking right through her, he carried on. It was a rather unpleasant shock, and not quite alleviated when he set his tray down in front of hers with a loud clatter that broke into her thoughts and almost made the pregnant woman wet herself. She frowned into his uncaring eyes, nearly incapable of looking back at her. He busied himself with leaning his cane securely against the table, hardly sparing her a glance. For too long, they ate in uncomfortable silence.

"So," he finally said. "Having fun yet?"

"No. Are you?"

"What kind of twisted question is that?"

"Sorry. I don't know what came over me." She rolled her eyes.

He nodded and kept eating, causing her to scoff. For another moment, there was an uncomfortable silence.

"Did you know," he finally said, "You have enough blood vessels in you to wrap around the whole world twice?"

"I swear to God, if this is another fat joke..."

"It's not. Just playful colleague banter."

"Yeah, well, I'm not feeling very playful."

"Well, we're in Canada. What is there to work on?"

She looked him up and down, quickly. "Not much."

He smiled, deliberately misunderstanding. "Thanks. I try to come as close to perfect as humanly possible."

"You disgust me."

He tried to laugh it off, but found himself unable. He was quiet, lifting his burger; holding it, he muttered, "Yet apparently, I'm special."

"Yeah, well, I didn't say you bore me," she said. Having lost her appetite, she dropped her napkin onto her tray. "And believe me, the whole world knows you're special," she added, as she got to her feet. As she lifted the tray, House reached over and grabbed her unfinished food.

"I found Cameron. Did you do that?"

She bit her lip, then gently set the tray back down on the table. "No, but...I'm not sure you did either."

"What do you mean? You told me I did."

"Yeah, but you weren't...you. Whoever you were back there―he was a different guy."

"What are you saying?"

"I've known you a long time, House. I've loved you. But I preferred his company over yours."

He watched her carry the tray away, leaving him sitting there alone.

Dr. Simmons stood at the foot of Cameron's borrowed bed, holding his jacket in his arms. "So you're telling me," he said, "That a world-renowned genius, who passed medical school in two years, is downstairs right now pretending to be his own twin?"

"That's what I'm telling you."

"Why? Why, why? Is he emotionally stunted?"

"I never got close to his emotions."

"Why not?"

"Because he wouldn't let me," she said simply. "He'd probably bite my hand off if I tried."

"I'll take that as a yes!"

"Well, just... I mean he did persuade you gently, right?"

Dr. Simmons huffed a sigh, reached past the heap of his own lab coat to pull out the rope tied to his wrist. "Not exactly."

"Oh my God," she groaned.

"I wriggled out from under the stall door and someone untied me. An Australian guy who said he 'might know who did this.'"

"Yeah, I might know the Australian guy," she muttered.

"What kind of intellect goes around doing such childish things?"

"Look, I know he's a little rough around the edges, but...with all due respect, you don't know what he's been through."

"I don't care what he's been through! Hasn't he ever heard of manners, and...common courtesy?"

"They were briefly acquainted in the '70s. Dr. Simmons―he suffered an aneurysm, he lost some of his leg muscle, he's always in pain, pills don't always help. He's surprisingly poor, he's old and alone... And he's suffered so much loss. Just recently, he had to―"

"Okay!" House's exclamation startled them both. He popped out from behind the curtain. "That's enough storytime."

"Well, no, wait a minute, what did you have to do?" Dr. Simmons asked.

House looked at him, then grinned cheekily. "Not without dinner."

Dr. Simmons shrugged. "I could eat."

"Get out."

Dr. Simmons paused at the hostile growl and the look of death in the man's eyes. "Okey-doke," he said quickly, and left the curtained space.

"What is this, a sleepover with the girlfriends?"

"I was trying to spare you the joys of court. But if you prefer the subpoena, save me a front row seat. If you think you'd rather pass..."

"I think you're giving me a brain aneurysm."

She huffed a sigh, thinking momentarily. "You can stop. I don't miss you anymore."

"Thank God. How's the foot?"

"Hm, pretty good actually. How's the leg?"

"Awful," he said, and made a contemplative face. "I wonder if there's any drugs in this place."

She chuckled. "I'd bet on it."

"Remember back home?" he asked, starting to feel his way around the bed. "You could just...poke around, find a bottle here, a loose pill there, maybe a―" his voice broke off as his hand bumped into hers. He quickly withdrew, and wouldn't look at her, wouldn't talk, wouldn't do anything. In an instant, he had withdrawn, like a frightened beetle.

Then her hand was closing around his. Trapping him.

"House," was all she could say. He pulled away, thumping the handlebar in an attempt to break the tension.

"Drugs!" he barked, grabbing his cane. "They make some of them from plants, you know. Has Chase been here? Oh, he has. Okay. I'm gonna go get me some drugs."

He limped away like there was a cash prize of ten grand.