Disclaimer: Fox owns everything. Probably my soul too.


"You're wearing House's t-shirt," Wilson observed as she stepped into the lift beside him.

Congratulations. Your plan lasted all of two minutes. House will be so proud of you.

Earlier: More kisses. More dragging finger nails along the inside of her arms. More reasons to not go into work.

"I need you here," House said sulkily as she headed to the door, "Maybe I want my clothes back."

Cameron smiled coyly at him. "I'm going anyway. I'll go naked if I have to."

"Fine," he snapped. "Go home and change. Go to work and do nothing except drive your co-workers crazy with suspicion. But I want my clothes back ironed and laundered first thing tomorrow."

"Right. Just like my towel?"

"Exactly like your towel." He grabbed her hand and kissed her palm.

"Maybe I'll keep your t-shirt," she said moving out of his way and pulling the door open.

"Go ahead," he snarked, "Even better, why not wear it to work? That'll really let the cat out of the bag."

He took his last glimpse of her and then shut the door with a slam.

But she felt different. Liberated. She was rebelling and in the best way possible.

"It was a gift…" Cameron replied quietly, not daring to look Wilson in the face.

"Right," Wilson hissed, "Because House is the most generous man I've ever met."

"It was…" She finally met his eye.

Wilson looked exasperated. He drummed his fingers against the files he was carrying.

His face reddened as he caught her glance: "Right, it's none of my business."

Cameron had been able to talk to Wilson in the past. She'd always imagined that one day he'd be the one who she could off load onto about House. No one knew him better. But they hadn't spoken in days. Maybe weeks.

"I'll come to your office at five," She said quietly. "I'll tell you everything then."

She stepped out into the hall and headed to diagnostics. Not sure if she would break her promise to House or her promise to herself first. Would she really tell him everything?


James Wilson sat in his office with his feet up on his desk. He watched the large drops of rain splash against the balcony outside and the lightening fork against the azure blue sky.

Cameron paused at his door, surveying the scene, feeling a little afraid.

What do I tell him, House? The second he looks at me it'll be too late.

"Come in then," He shouted, getting up and walking over to the door.

She tentatively stepped into his room. It was warmer here than House's office, both literally and metaphorically. Little signs of "home" littered all around: an old Hitchcock poster, a bunch of daffodils in a hand-painted vase on the desk, a sweater hanging up on the hat stand.

"So," Wilson moved swiftly to the doors of the balcony and opened them, letting big splodges of rain fall onto the toes of his shoes. "It finally decided to rain, huh? And you're having a relationship with House?"

Cameron stuttered, surprised, not sure if she'd even heard correctly: "Um, I'm…"

Suddenly she felt very small and very stupid. Wilson folded his arms and stared out into the rain. His face a mask of indifference.

"Did he tell you to lie?" He spoke quietly: "Did he tell you to just keep it between the two of you?"

She moved behind him, watching his shoulders clench as he spoke: "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

Cameron felt herself clench too. She knew exactly what…what did Wilson know about this anyway? Everything.

"Thank you for your concern," She looked down at her watch, awkwardly running her index finger across the scratched face. Trying to be professional. Doctor to doctor. Just another differential diagnosis that she didn't agree with: "I'm sure that I'll be just fine. I'm a big girl now."

He shook his head furiously at the cliché: "No. You think you've got him all figured? You think that over time you'll just wear him down until he can see things from your point of view? You think you stand a chance at making his world better or…"

He turned to her, his face red with rage: "I mean, isn't that why people have relationships, to find that one soul that compliments their own? That one person who'll be there for you when everyone else has deserted them?"

"I guess." She was shocked by his anger. Shocked by the small voice deep within herself that told her he was wrong. Everybody lies.

"Listen, James. I know that you two have had an argument." She reached out her hand and touched his forearm just below his upturned shirtsleeve. "Please don't think that I'm going to let House treat me like…"

"What?" Wilson shook off her touch, "Like he treats me? Is that what you were going to say?"

She gasped. She hadn't meant that. Had she?

He walked around his desk: "He's a bastard. But maybe you like that. House always said you were the submissive type."

Cameron glared at him in disbelief. Surely she'd misheard. Wilson was a nice guy.

A minute passed in silence.

She walked out and slammed the door hard behind her, her chin trembling.