Disclaimer: I don't own House M.D. or its characters. The recognisable dialogue is from the end of 'Role Model' in series one.

This is going to be a short story set in series one. I have it planned out and I think it will be about three chapters, possibly four. Told from Cameron's point of view when she leaves House. Hope you enjoy it.


Not So Easy.

Chapter One.

Walking away had, all things considered, been far easier than she had anticipated. It had been the build up that had been most nerve-wracking, the driving to his place, standing outside of his door listening to the faint sounds of him playing the piano for ten minutes before forcing her knuckles to rap on the door loud enough to bring him to answer.

The door opened and he was there, staring at her for a second before stepping aside to let her enter, an air of defeat hanging heavily around him. Maybe he knew why she was here, maybe he knew her so well that this had been inevitable to him from the moment she stepped into his office the first time. Maybe the truth of what he had done tonight and the repercussions it could have for the whole of the Diagnostics department had just begin to hit him. Whatever the reason, he looked beaten and it was uncomfortable for her to witness. Instead she looked around at the wide open space of the living room. Her eyes fell on the piano to her left. The faint noises she had heard through the door were enough to tell her that he played beautifully and she stared at the keys, imagining his fingers dancing across them.

It was surprising how clean the place was. Nothing out of place, nothing lying on the floor and the coffee table was bare and dust free. Based on her knowledge of the state of his office drawers (drawers that she had spent hours organising for the sake of her own sanity) she expected all the clutter was hidden away somewhere, possibly in the cabinet by the door or piled in the closet.

This assessment took no time at all and soon she had no choice but to force her eyes to meet his... and she froze.

His blue eyes always looked right through her, as if he could read every thought in her head and she was unable to speak, to break the silence. He had no such problem.

"I'm sorry," House said. "I should have taken an extra couple of Vicodin and just held my nose."

"I'm guessing you did take a couple of extra Vicodin," Cameron replied, and her mind shot back to how he had looked on that podium, out of place in that suit that was just so not like him. She had been able to tell the moment he had made up his mind not to go through with it. She should have been surprised that he had shown up at all.


Cameron looked at him; at the tall, blue eyed man before her. House was clever. He was a genius. He knew why she was here already. That, more than anything else, gave her the strength to say it. "You don't need to worry about firing anyone. I'm leaving."

There. She'd said it. She couldn't take it back.

The words reverberated around the room and she managed to contain her wince when they hit her eardrums only because they sounded so surreal. After all, people didn't just leave Gregory House without an excellent reason.

All the stories about him were spoken in lowered, awed tones. People listened enthralled, they moved halfway across the country in the hopes of getting one of those coveted jobs in his department, they attended interviews competitively. If they were lucky enough to get one of these jobs, they stayed until they were fired, or the door to the next stage of their career was opened, or they were driven completely crazy.

Or, in the case of a woman named Allison Cameron from Omaha, Nebraska, until she fell in love with the insufferable man and left before her heart could be totally shattered.

This reason wouldn't really be enough to many people. A stronger person than she would have been able to cope with the onslaught of emotions working with Gregory House brought about. She had been managing well, until she realised just how deep her feelings for her boss went.

House's next question surprised her.

"Why?" The question hit her like a shot. Surely he knew? Fortunately she didn't have to answer as he went on before she could think of anything to say. "Is this another noble, self-sacrificing gesture? Trying to protect Foreman?"

God, why was he always trying to analyse her? "No."

"So this is just, 'Don't fire me, I quit.'"

"I'm protecting myself. You asked me why I like you," Cameron forced herself to maintain eye contact and once the words started to come out of her mouth, it was easier. "You're abrasive and rude but I figured everything you do, you do it to help people. But I was wrong. You do it because it's right."

She stopped to control herself, to make sure she wouldn't burst into tears. She put out her hand, wanting to shake his hand to make herself feel more like adult and not a tearful child. She could have handled it, if only he had taken her hand and made it okay for her to do what she was trying to do. He didn't. She dropped her hand back to her side.

The tears were thick in her voice, but she didn't let them fall. "There are only two ways I can deal with things. One is in my control. That's to leave. Goodbye, House."

She couldn't look at him anymore. She turned to leave and the moment the door closed behind her, shutting her out in the night, she allowed her feet to carry her faster, almost running to her car before she could turn back.

Job done. Easy.