Disclaimer: I do not own House or anything else you might recognise in the story.

This is my first fanfiction for House M.D and it's set after the third season. I hope everyone likes it.

Nostalgia.

Do you think you can miss something you never had? I never used to think so. Now I know differently.

I saw you again today. Of course I did. I see you everywhere. Whenever I walk into a room I can't resist giving it a quick once over to check if you're there. Even if I know it's not possible. My mother's 50th birthday party for example.

There are times when I think I see you and my stomach seems to disappear. I feel anxious and completely exhilarated at the same time. Then he'll turn around and I will see that it isn't you at all. It's just someone who looks like you. Someone with the same coat, or same hair colour. But it's hardly ever you.

Today you were stood in the clinic arguing, as always, with Cuddy. I admit I was strangely jealous of her.

I miss that.

I miss going three rounds with you over some treatment or other. See? You're rubbing off on me. I hate sports metaphors yet I find myself using them with increasing frequency. It's you. It's your influence on me. I don't like to acknowledge it but I find myself clinging to that link with you, however tenuous it may be.

Even when we did argue, even when you made me so angry that I could hardly see through the pools of darkness before my eyes, there was a part of me that couldn't help but admire your expression, that way with words that is uniquely yours and I was forced to see your point. Again and again I backed down as you allowed me a glimpse of that passion in you. That passion was one of the reasons I loved you.

One of the reasons I still do.

I miss those times when I would get something right.

I miss how you used to grill Foreman, Chase and I for a diagnosis, the three of us perfectly aware that you knew the answer but weren't going to just tell us. You would fire questions at us, give us everything you thought we needed (actually everything you had needed, which is something else entirely- you could always work it out faster than the rest of us) to solve the puzzle.

I loved those times when I worked it out first. You would stare at me with a rare look in your eyes that made my whole body fill with warmth. A look of pride, of respect.

And I loved you even more.

When Stacy came back to work at Princeton-Plainsboro, I saw something new in you and I was instantly aware that my previous assumptions were wrong.

You could love someone.

You were not yet damaged enough as to destroy that basic human instinct.

I was jealous of her.

I meant what I said, though- I was happy for you. I just wish it could have been me that provoked that feeling from you. I'm glad she came back though. You needed that. You needed her to come back so you could resolve your lingering feelings for her. Until that had happened there could be no hope for me and you.

Not that there ever was really.

You always seemed so adamantly opposed to the notion that I could love you; that we could be happy together and I suppose you were right. As always, you were right. I can't make you happy until you can accept who you are now, leg and all, and let go of the past. And until you were happy I couldn't be.

I do love you though. You were wrong about that.

But there is one more thing you were right about- do you remember when we were treating the mobster? You said "Cameron's my girl." I can still hear your voice when you said it, deep and smooth as you stared into my eyes, pinning me to the spot.

You were right. I was.

I have to accept the truth. Allison Cameron and Gregory House will never be together. Maybe it's time to move on. Accept that real life doesn't always have a fairy tale ending. Not for me, at least. People like me don't get the dream man. But, if we're lucky, we find someone else. Someone who loves us and will take care of us and be there for us whatever happens.

"Allison?"

I lift my head up at the soft, mellifluous voice and find myself looking at that aforementioned someone else. Chase, his face infused with warmth and a broad smile plastered across his face regards me with a slight tilt of his head.

"You ready to go?"

"Yes, sure." I pick up my bag and swing it over my shoulder, taking care not to trap any of my loose blonde hair under the strap.

Time to let go.