A/N: I have homework I should be doing right now, but this idea came to me, and I wrote it in less than half an hour. Let's hope it was worth it.

Some of what House says is lifted (with some slight modifications) from Detox.

Feedback: Is love. Please review!


Cameron leaned against the glass wall of House's office, watching as he downed a Vicodin. "Rehab was all a game to you, wasn't it?" she accused.

House leaned back in his chair. "Wilson has a big mouth."

She ignored the statement. "I know Tritter's an ass, House, but you could have…this could have worked. This could have been a good thing."

He scoffed. "Why? Quitting is hard—the path of least resistance is so more my style. And I don't need to stop. I may be an addict, but I don't have a problem. When no one's trying to keep me away from my pills, I function just fine."

Cameron looked like she wanted to cry. "Life should be about more than just functioning, House."

She turned to leave, but stopped in the doorway, facing away from him. House eyed the tense line of her shoulders as she spoke. "I've worked for you for almost two and a half years now, and in that time I've admired you, loved you, hated you; been scared for you, happy for you, amused by you, disgusted by you, angry with you—"

"Oh, please, spare me the platitudes," House muttered.

"But never before," she continued, softly, sadly, "have I been disappointed in you."

Cameron left the room. House didn't move for a long time.