"There was a murder?"

"Unfortunately yes," Cuddy said.

Cameron looked at a spot on the wall across from her, trying to absorb it―trying to absorb him. "Wow. House..."

"Kidnapped a guy. I know."

"That's what he was trying to tell me. His mention of 'saving me,' which I thought was absurd. His refusal to leave my side." Cameron paused, bobbing her head. "I chalked that one up to finding me in a shed with a bullet wound and DA, which I'd prefer; at least we're over the worst of it. And an entire hospital wasn't involved."

"Honestly, a time of extreme vulnerability is no time to be selfless."

Cameron nodded, finally looking again at Cuddy―lingering by the curtain. "You can sit, you know."

"I know."

The curtain opened again and Dr. Simmons walked in, bearing her chart. He looked nervous upon entering, relaxing when he discovered a Houseless atmosphere. "Where's that wack job?" was the greeting he extended. "I don't want to deal with him again."

"You can relax, he's avoiding you," Cuddy told him.

He sighed, "Best news I've gotten all week, and my cousin won the lottery," he grumbled, flipping through Cameron's papers. "Okay, I just need to ask you a few questions and we'll decide where to go from there. Uh, are you comfortable answering them in front of―" He stopped talking as the curtain rings rattled, and he looked over to find the empty space where Cuddy had been standing. "Uh, okay. I'll start you off easy. How's the pain level?"

"In my foot?"

"Yes, on a scale of one to ten."

"Hm, five, six, maybe."

"We can send you off with some pills; refills are free with insurance. Is everything in order?"

"Uh...I'm actually a little behind."

"Oh, that's too bad. Let me just take a peek..." He lifted up the blanket, lightly touching her skin beside the stitches. "Can you feel my finger?"

"If I couldn't, there wouldn't be any pain."

"Yes. Yes, that is a...good point, Dr. Cameron."

"Which any idiot could have made." Her temper flared and she moved her foot away from his touch. "Except you, maybe."

He tried to smile at her, saying only, "If you didn't owe me a fortune, I'd take offense."

She scoffed, rearranging the blanket. "I take it Aletta Kamp had insurance."

His turn to scoff. He let the papers on the clipboard slap down. "I'll go get your discharge papers," he said bitterly, and walked from the room.

Cameron pushed the blanket aside, examining her stitched-up foot and touching it until a figure materialized in the sunny spot in her peripheral vision. She glanced up to see a new doctor, a nervous young one, with a plump build and red hair tied into a neat ponytail. She lingered in the doorway, obviously at a loss for words. The discharge papers trembled in her hands and she was wearing an engagement ring.

"Yes?"

"Uh, I... I'm supposed to give you these. Uh, and ask what you'd prefer; crutches or a wheelchair or a cane or a walker or... Uh, here," she blathered, finally thinking to hand Cameron the discharge papers. "Clearly you understand..."

"You're a med student. Right?"

"Yes, ma'am," the young doctor nearly whispered.

"Great. Kill anyone lately?" she bit, and watched the med student begin to break down. "No, maybe not, but I'm never coming here again. I'll take the cane, please."

"Okay," the doctor wept, and walked out of the curtained space.

Alone, Cameron muttered to whoever was listening from their own curtained little cubicle. "Treading with care, my ass. What kind of doctor kills someone?"

In the silence, House's voice muttered, "This is my cue, right?"

She sighed, waiting for him to materialize in the space.

"Although..." he muttered, casting a mockingly contemplative glance at the ceiling. "I suppose it could've been Chase's. Or Thirteen's."

"Nobody's blaming you, House, you didn't give him cancer."

"No, just the gun."

"He made a choice. He wanted to die with a little dignity."

"There's no such thing," he growled, tired of repeating himself.

She shrugged, meeting his eyes and trying to smile. "I don't believe that."

"That's good," Cuddy's voice made House turn around. She spared him a displeased glance before returning a kinder face to Cameron. "My uncle died of cancer. He was 78 years old, surrounded by family, resting in his own bed. With cards and flowers everywhere. My aunt even got him to laugh. Dying, it's...always harder on the living. But there can be grace...dignity. You just have to give it to them."

"That's so nice," Cameron said. "I think I'd want to go like that."

The little room was quiet until the med student reappeared, holding a cane and a bottle of pills. Still looking misty, she handed both to Cuddy and disappeared as quickly as she could. For a moment, the three of them were quiet, feeling suddenly overcome with the illness and death that plagued the space.

"Well, you're the pill expert," Cuddy said to House. "How do you know if they're little death capsules in a bottle?"

"Hmm," he said, taking the bottle from her. He opened it, dumping two into his palm. "Only one surefire way I know of."

He threw them back like Vicodin, turning the bottle over in his hands. "Ooh, extra strength," he said, "Yummy."

He handed the bottle back to a stupefied Cuddy. "If I die, flush them like Nemo."

Then he handed the cane to Cameron, who took it without looking away from him. Struggling to her feet, she plunked her cane down, right across from his.

"Call the team," House said, as he waited for Cameron to situate herself in the backseat. "They're losing their shit."

She nodded compliantly, getting out of the way of the car door. "I'll do that now."

He shut the door before she could touch him again, took two steps to the passenger door, and got in. Chase was utterly quiet, staring at the back of his head with a look of loathing on his face; the only sound in the car was the bubbly sound effect of Cameron playing on her phone. Then the engine kicked in and Cuddy began to drive.

"So I guess our first order of business is to check out of the hotel," she said. "I can cover the cost, but the hospital bill..."

Cameron tuned her out as the sweet sound of a ringing phone met her ears.

Foreman answered the video call, and his eyes lit up at the sight of her. "Cameron! Hey, how you doing?" he asked, before he was surrounded by familiar faces.

"Oh. Uh, well, I am...so much better now. I've got House, Chase, Cuddy, now I'm seeing all of you. It's wonderful," though her smile didn't quite reach the sadness in her eyes.

"Yeah, we heard what happened. That is crazy!" Adams said. "Was it premeditated, or was the med student just clueless?"

"And it's wonderful to see you, too, Dr. Cameron," said awkward little Park.

"Thanks. I, um, I have no idea... And believe me, once I caught wind of it, I wanted to get the hell outta there."

"Hell! She said hell! She finally has to put a dollar in the jar," Taub said.

"Taub," Chase cut in, and Cameron angled her phone. "She just had surgery, she's behind on her insurance. Why don't you and your sad swear jar bugger off?"

Park's eyes went wide. "Good to see you, too, Dr. Chase."

"Yeah, I think we're a little off-topic again," Foreman tried. "Uh, Cameron. Any word on what happened to that patient?"

"None that I've heard."

"She died," House offered from the front seat.

"Oh. Uh..."

"You know, for the record," Taub said, "There isn't actually a jar."

"Because you're, what, too dignified for that?" Chase asked.

Cameron waved quickly at the screen. "Okay, 'bye, guys, love you!" she chirped, and disconnected. In the silence, listening to the quiet hum of the motor, she sighed, giving Chase an awkward smile. "Always nice, talking to friends."

Cuddy sighed, shaking her head and not taking her eyes off the road. "How do you feel, House?"

He emitted a soft sigh, glowering at the road ahead. "Good."

"Yeah?"

"Proud. And not of myself," he said hastily, catching her smirk. "Of you, Cameron."

"Really, why?"

He smiled grimly. "For tearing that med student a new one."

She tilted her head, deciding to take it as a compliment. Now that she wasn't focused on a phone call, she could feel the annoying pressure against her leg; it was pretty light, but it rested against her right leg. She didn't want anything near her bad foot, so she leaned forward simply to move it out of her way. And was distracted by the colorful plastic, shining at her from right beneath the zipper. She looked at Chase; his severe frown out the window told her it wasn't a special gift. So she leaned forward and began rummaging through the contents of the backpack. Nothing had been so interesting since Chase had invited her on a road trip with House...

But it was just bags and bags of vending machine snacks, maybe half of which were healthy. More and more bags, a couple of sodas. She slowly sat back in her seat and finally turned her eyes to Chase. He stared out the window, looking like he was battling a nervous breakdown. Or cane-wielding demons.

"Chase," her voice was almost inaudible. He didn't respond, so she gently took his hand, speaking when he looked at her, "I'm so sorry we're here."

"It's my fault."

"How on earth is it your fault?"

He hesitated, and would only mutter, "Dibala."

"Dibala?!"

He shrugged. "If I hadn't killed 'im, we'd still be married. You never would have made your confession... We'd be fine."

She tried not to notice that House had turned his head, listening attentively.

"We mighta had all those annoying children after all," he added.

She smiled. "I would've loved that."

"Yeah."

She shifted, now taking his hand with both of hers. "But, you know... I don't know what I would've done differently. Maybe it all worked out for the best."

He looked at her, finally. "Never felt like it."

"The needs of the many," House offered, "Outweigh the needs of the few."

With Cuddy checking out of the hotel, and House in her company, Chase and Cameron were left alone at the vehicle. Moving slowly, they walked in circles around Cuddy's car.

"I don't get it," she finally said. "Why didn't you drive your car?"

"I told you. Wanted to spend time with you."

"Are you leaving so soon?"

"Why not?" he asked, as they came to the front of the vehicle. "It's not like I'm going to Chicago with you."

"So..." she said, and hesitated. "What does tonight look like, or tomorrow?"

"Whatever we're doing tonight is fine by me. Tomorrow I guess I'll hike back to the hospital, grab my car. Maybe Cuddy'll give me a lift."

"And if she's unavailable, but House can do it..."

"I'd rather walk across a six-lane highway in your red bikini."

Coming to the back of her car, they stopped when they saw House, standing right there with a sardonic smile on his face.

"Can I record that?" he asked. "Because whatever it'll take to make that happen, I'm in."

Cameron tried to blow past their testosterone war. "How do you feel?"

"Like punching the next person who asks about my feelings."

"Cuddy asked him that, too. Why... Why are you asking him that?" Chase cut in, looking suspiciously from one friend to House.

"Because he had potentially-poisoned extra-strength pills for breakfast."

"No, I had food for breakfast. The pills were more of a lunch."

"You did what?!" Chase demanded, his Aussie accent glaring.

"He did it to save me."

"Glad we're finally on the same page," House said casually, and checked his watch. "Would you rather wait the six and a half hours to be quick, or the two weeks to be sure?"

"You're an ass!" Cameron exclaimed. "Now if the pills are lethal, I'm a suspect."

"Would you rather be innocent and dead?"

"Yes!"

House shook his head, giving a mock look of contemplation. "I'm questioning all I know about you."

Chase pulled a face. "She's right, you are an ass."

"Like all the heroes. Harriet Tubman, Alan Turing... Spiderman," he added, and observed Chase's expression. "Relax. The pills aren't poisoned."

"House," Cameron said, "You're not out of the woods yet."

"Do you think they just go around poisoning all of their visitors?"

"You're mad," Chase told him. "You're completely insane. This is...the exact opposite of the right thing."

"Maybe. But it's something. What did you do?"

Chase ran a hand through his hair, turning hesitantly to face Cameron. "Yeah. Uh... I think I'm gonna go grab my car tonight."

"What, why? I thought you wanted―"

"I don't love her."

Chase and Cameron both looked at House, in obvious shock.

"Yeah?" Chase finally asked, into the silence. "You do that for me?"

"Would you do that for her? Oh, wait," House said quickly, and made an expression of mock confusion. "You didn't."

"I wasn't in the room! How long'd you wait before you beer-chugged questionable meds?"

House couldn't answer, quietly turning his eyes to Cuddy as she walked up to the car. Trying to hide the relief he felt at the interruption, he forced a smile at her. "We good?"

"We're good," she confirmed. Still, when she opened the car door for Cameron, she yanked her hand away and moved awkwardly back when Cameron approached the car.

Cameron gave her a tentative smile. "Thanks."

Taking the seat Chase had used, she turned her back to the seat, then fed her cane into the car from behind before sitting. Her eyes found House's.

"You're getting it," he grumbled. Hanging onto the door, he waited for her to situate herself once again; when he was able, he closed the door, then turned around to defend himself to Chase. Only to see him walking away. Groaning, House began limping, glancing at Cuddy, who clung to the driver's door and glowed in the sun. "You think Cameron's radioactive?"

"I wish," she muttered, and got into the car.

"You think I'm what?"

"Going to stay active," Cuddy said, with a barely noticeable pause as she shook her hair back. "Best of luck."

Cameron nodded, thinking she had been around House too long.

Cuddy started the car, sparing House a glance as he got into the passenger seat. "Even if you react to the pills, how will I know?" she asked, and buckled up. "You were already hallucinating, vomiting, uh..."

"I wasn't already dead. That's the one we gotta look out for."

Cameron pointed her eyes to the window and battled her emotions.

"Just tell me, House. Did you do it for her, or yourself?"

"If only I knew," he growled. "Did I ingest potentially-poisoned, extra-strength death capsules for her benefit, or steal possibly life-saving medication for mine?"

Cuddy bobbed her head as she began driving. "For her, then."

"Whichever of the two doesn't keep you up at night."

"House, nothing concerning you doesn't keep me up."

"Right back at you, Cuddy."

She made a face as Cameron made a noise of disgust from the backseat.

"Heart attack. Stroke," Cuddy began to grumble. "Kidney failure, liver failure. Ulcers."

"You're going to be great, by the way," House bleated in Cameron's general direction.

"Yeah, aces. Can I have my pills now, please? I don't know if you recall being shot, but it hurts like hell."

Cuddy scoffed and said, "You've been around House too long."

House twisted in his seat, giving Cameron nothing more than a look that conveyed pity. "I don't think I can give them to you just yet."

"You have got to be kidding me!"

"I'm not out of the woods yet. Remember?"

"I'm sorry, when did I hire you to be my taste-tester?"

"I just want you to be alive. After everything we..."

Cameron's brows went up, Cuddy looked over her shoulder at him, and he quickly faced forward―saying nothing more for the longest time. Cuddy drove in silence, and they listened to the quiet hum of the motor, until Cameron's phone chimed. She looked down at it, pulling a face at the barely-familiar name.

"Uh, it's Kayla. Should I answer it, or would you like to intercept my calls, too?"

"Don't answer it."

"Yes, sir," she said, with only a trace of sarcasm.

He looked at her again. "Kayla's the one who shot you."

"Well, maybe she's calling to apologize."

"I really don't think that's the case."

Cameron tucked her phone away, listening to the ringtone die as she cast her face to the fading sun.

"Really?" House's loud question startled her. "Just like that?"

"Well, you know her better than I do. And as stupid as it might make me... I trust you."

House tilted his head, suddenly chuckling; a noise that startled Cuddy. "You're right, that is stupid. Not unlike Chase, deciding to tuck his tail between his legs and run back to Canada the first chance he got... But in actuality, once upon a time you did know her better. But you got amnesia. Why? Because she shot you. Let me tell you right here and now, that bitch is not your friend," he was saying, as his phone began to ring. He pulled it out and looked at the caller ID. "Well, speak of the dingo," he said, and took the call. "G'day, matey."

"House, that's pirate."

"Sorry. When I decided to become cultured and professionally adept by learning languages, I didn't mean redneck slang."

Chase sighed. "God, you're exhausting."

"So this isn't a booty call?"

"When you sent that text to Cameron calling Kayla and Logan mutants, you were just messing with her mind, right? I mean, because you're a dick."

"Nope, never been more forthcoming in my life."

"And now I assume you're messing with me."

"Here's a funny thought, Chase; why don't you go up to them and ask? Stop wasting my minutes."

"You're on a minute plan? You dinosaur!"

House ended the call and tucked away his phone. Catching Cuddy's sideways glance, he shrugged and said, "Wrong number."

"Go up to who and ask them what?" Cameron asked.

"No one, nothing."

"Right. Tell me your prostate's enlarged, tell me you had an erection for two hours and couldn't sit on the toilet, but this is a private affair."

"Go up to," the words poured freely before he knew he was talking, "Logan and Kayla and ask if they're mutants."

Cameron was quiet for a moment, then began to laugh―then quickly tried stopping. "Oh, ow. Oh, that's weird. Laughing makes my foot hurt worse," she chortled, and leaned down, unzipping the bag of snacks. "House, just a...passing thought, totally random, but―maybe suggesting he go up to dangerous people and piss them off is a bad idea."

"He won't actually do it, the dingo is a highly intelligent creature."

"Well, if the person training him is a dumbass..."

House looked at Cameron with raised brows. "You know, you'd still be bleeding out in some dark, decrepit shed if it weren't for me."

"If it weren't for you, I'd be home right now."

"Yeah...home. Alone, because your husband left you and took the kid."

"Yeah, because of you!"

"What, why? Because of you why?" Cuddy broke in.

"Nothing."

"He went through my phone."

"Oh." Cuddy paused, pursing her lips. "Is that all?"

"No, he destroyed my marriage. He told my husband I was cheating on him, using my phone."

"House!" she exclaimed. He wouldn't answer, staring grumpily ahead; knowing she couldn't change him, she pointed her eyes to the road and heaved a groaning sigh. She knew, in that moment, she was supposed to be angry at him and very sympathetic for her―but all she felt was lost forever in an overwhelming fear that Cameron would become House. And she knew that no matter how bad he was, she was worse for it...because she didn't want there to be two of him. She was filled to overflowing with sympathy...for herself. And maybe they were both mind-readers, but it seemed like they both knew what she was thinking.