Cameron quietly handed House his cane, avoiding all eye contact. Then she sank down onto the nearest cushion and put her elbows on her knees, staring at the bottom of the wall.

"Did you know she was coming?" House asked.

When Cameron didn't respond, Cuddy answered. "She did."

House stared at her, gathering his thoughts and trying to remain calm. It didn't take long before he failed, caustically asking, "How the hell come I didn't?"

"Is that the one and only important matter in the whole wide world?" she asked, as she took off her raindrop-bejeweled coat. As she folded it over her arm, her eyes moved past House's left arm, and she frowned down at Cameron, who was pouring a beer. Instinctively, and discarding all the hostilities between them, Cuddy touched his arm and pulled him away; not even out of Cameron's earshot, she knew. It was an action she could not explain. She raised her eyes to his. "What's her issue?"

He spared a brief glance over his left shoulder, turning back in the same motion. "She has many issues. What she's doing isn't telling me the one you're referring to."

"Why the hell is an immunologist drinking?" Cuddy whispered. Then, as she stared up into his eyes, she caught the stench of beer stemming from him as well. She shook her head. "What did you say to her?" she grumbled.

"Nothing!"

"House, you are everybody's issue."

He stared at her for a moment, but could only say, "She said she's tired of the disappointments."

"Well, she can relieve herself of them, now that I'm here to watch your ass."

"You realize I am a single man. As in, not plural," he added hastily, when she began to grin.

"Your ego, your rationalizations, your lies, your constant jokes, your inability to take responsibility, and your tendency to shut everyone out...are disappointments, plural," she finished, and sidestepped him like he was nothing more than a vacuum cleaner left deliberately in her path. She stepped over Cameron's feet and sat beside her, putting a hand on her back. "Cameron, why are you doing this?" she murmured, as House wondered what to do next. He finally made his decision, obligated to walk around the couch and take the furthest seat.

"I wanted to. I was thirsty. It's legal," Cameron offered, each statement ending on an upward inflection.

He hated when people did that. Or he just hated people.

"Just tell me."

"I can't...just tell you," Cameron bit.

"Of course you can. It's me."

Cameron looked at her for a moment, then her eyes flitted past her and into House's eyes. Suddenly she leaned forward, putting the cup down and getting to her feet. She moved silently to the stairs and ascended, avoiding their eyes and shaking her head.

"Allison," Cuddy snapped, but got not response. She disappeared past the second floor. Sighing, Cuddy leaned back and found herself immersed in the scent of strong beer, faint cologne, and cigar smoke. She turned her head and found herself looking right into his eyes. For several heartbeats, they stared quietly at each other; then, pressing her lips, she raised her eyebrows and averted her eyes. "I should go make sure she's okay." She stood up and eked out of the space between the coffee table and couch. His words rooted her in place.

"She's a big girl. And I'm a big boy." He raised his eyes to hers with a sigh.

"I...beg your pardon?"

"I told you, I didn't want you here. You wasted your time."

"It's my time to waste. If that's even remotely true."

"I literally said, don't bother."

"Proving my point! Shutting me out!" she snapped, with a frustrated motion.

"Because shutting you up's not effective."

She was quiet for a moment, pressing her lips again. "I don't want to talk. I want you to talk."

He stared up at her. "Beg pardon?"

"I'm tired of your petty, passive-aggressive games. No more ruining houses, no more stabbing me in the back, no more going out of your way to make me feel small..."

"I can tell you how fat you've gotten."

"Falling into the lie category." She brushed back her dark curls. "No more of it. No more. House, we had a mature relationship. Now we need to have a mature discussion."

"R-rated for vulgar language?"

"Falling into the responsibility category. House, all I want is more than one reason to be around you. And you can't provide that to anyone." She sighed, then reclaimed her seat beside him, startling him by sliding her hand into his and hanging on tight. "I'm not leaving until you talk to me."

"Cameron tells me I should listen more. And your voice doesn't piss me off."

And with that, he was quiet. All they could hear was the rain. In the near-silence, her soft sigh drew his attention. She was about to give up and ask him which bedroom Cameron had taken, when suddenly his hand squeezed hers tight. She looked down at their joined hands and took a moment to process what was happening, then quietly asked, "Wilson didn't have a head?"

He looked away, but acknowledged her inquiry with a subtle nod. "Just a hallucination."

"Are you taking anything?"

"Vicodin," he offered.

She withdrew off to the side, as far as their joined hands would allow. "Are you kidding me?"

"Yes. From this point on, anyway."

She was quiet again, then rolled her eyes and sat up straight. "Constant jokes," she mumbled.

"Four out of six."

"Which is a failing grade." She pulled her hand free from his. "It's not the first time you failed. And the sad part is, it won't be the last."

He was the first one to clamber to his feet. "Will everyone please stop blowing smoke up my ass? I'm on vacation, for crying out loud."

"No." She swiveled, gripping the back of the couch and following him with her eyes. "You're not. Because you hate it here."

"Has it ever occurred to you that I hate the company? We get rid of you, Cameron, Lenny, and all the Canadians, there's actually very little to complain about!"

"How did he die?" she demanded, nearly interrupting him. Her dark eyes burned holes into his. When he wouldn't respond, she placed enough trust in him to look away, backing off of the couch into a standing position. "You were clean from Vicodin, you were sane. Now he's missing and you're using, which means you're insane." She shook back her curls, meeting his eyes again as she visibly refrained from approaching him. "And you were with him, and you're an ass."

"I didn't kill him."

"But you were supposed to, so how did he die?" she asked fiercely.

He stared at her a moment longer, then began turning away. "The answer...rhymes with answer."

She hesitated for a moment, then said, "But—he was on chemo."

He stopped, then slowly turned to meet her eyes.

"He was on a motorcycle."

Standing about twelve feet apart, they were silent again, examining each other. He was close to the stairs, with no intention of climbing them; Cameron was even more insufferable than she was. On the other hand, Kayla was alone...

Cuddy finished reflecting and decided to trust her intuition. "The pipes," she said succinctly.

He wouldn't deny it. He tilted his head, looking upwards in fascination. "Sane on the pills, insane off. That's an interesting paradox... Isn't it?"

Glowering at him, Cuddy straightened her immaculate clothes and strode towards him. "Then take your pills," she whispered, and began to ascend. As she neared the top, she heard the rattle of medication from down below. Stopping at the top of the stairs, she found herself closest to the bathroom, with two bedrooms on both sides. The bedroom door to her right was closed, but the one to her left was wide open. It was too far to see inside, so she wandered closer to the door and loudly whispered Cameron's name; trying to suppress a smile when her form materialized in the doorway, the moon shining on her back and the wall sconce illuminating her face. Cameron dropped her hands from both sides of the door frame and stepped out into the hall as Cuddy approached.

"Are you drinking over Wilson?"

Cameron's hesitation was brief. "Yes."

"You didn't drink over Kutner. Or Amber. And you were pretty much as close to Wilson as you were to them."

Cameron's kind face hardened before she turned around, sauntered into her bedroom and shut the door. The sharp noise made Cuddy flinch. Deciding to sleep off the effects of long travel and isolate herself from others, she turned and strode down the hallway, opening the bedroom door—only to find herself looking at the backside of a topless woman. "Oh," she chuckled, and cast her eyes down. "Uh, sorry. I thought this room was... Yeah," she finished in a whisper, and closed the door. She walked to the stairs and went down, taking one look at House's smile. "Shut up," she grumbled, and retrieved her coat. "I'll sleep in my car."

She lingered at the front door, angrily putting on her coat and flipping up the hood before opening the door.

"Goodnight, Cuddy," House said.

She pulled the door shut.

Without curtains, the sunlight unforgivingly filled the room; and shadows played across her eyelids. Cameron tried to ignore the brightness, but not even pulling the blanket over her head could make it dark enough to go back to sleep. Without meaning to, she remembered House's scent as she had curled up in it last night. Not that it was at all faded; actually it was pretty powerful still. Her olfactory sense was probably better than she realized—until his ragged whisper broke into her thoughts. "Cameron."

She rolled away from the window, opening her eyes and peering blearily up at him. "House?" she mumbled sleepily.

He sat on the unclaimed half of the bed, jostling her. She was still squinting at the unwelcome light as she pulled herself into a sitting position. Unaccustomed to having him in bed with her, she waited as long as she could for him to speak; but uncharacteristically, he was silent. Uncharacteristically, she was feeling a bit impatient that morning. She crossed her legs under the covers and began adjusting the blanket. "Gathering your thoughts, or did you just want to bother me?"

"I excel at multi-tasking," he muttered.

She sighed and attempted to fix her morning mane. "You do realize no one is paying me?"

"Chase got paid."

That woke her up. She dropped her hand, staring at him and ready to let loose about gender inequality when she realized that he wasn't there to spite her. He didn't look mischievous, he looked numb. Like he was trying to figure out a puzzle, but getting no satisfaction from it; which seemed as possible as...mutants.

She relented with a sigh and pushed the blanket away, scooting to his side of the bed. He turned his head, but would only meet her eyes when she aligned herself with him, dropping her feet to the floor. "Did you get your missing moments back?"

He was quiet for a moment, then gave a subtle shake of his head. "No."

"Did you realize you could have saved a patient?"

"No."

"Did you fight with Cuddy?"

His eyes swung to hers, flashing in annoyance. Her next guess, of hallucinations, died on her tongue as she believed she had struck a nerve. Instead, he told her, "Kayla's gone."

"Oh. Of course. The love of your life is—"

"Searching for her AWOL boyfriend."

She frowned, staring into his grim eyes.