Cameron heaved a sigh of relief as she unlocked the door to the apartment she shared with her fiance. Sleet could be heard sharply pelting the windows, a reminder of the stinging whirlwind she'd just escaped. She glanced at the clock: 4:05 pm. He wouldn't be home for another hour or two. Dropping off her bag of groceries in the kitchen, she proceeded to the bathroom for a towel. She was horrified by what she saw in the mirror. The curls in her dark hair had slowly melted into something between wavy and "mental patient." Shivering out of her damp clothes she quickly jumped into a hot shower.

Damn House! The thought flashed through her much as it had been doing all afternoon. His ability to just waltz into lives and situations, doing whatever he felt like doing. And yet, a voice in her head intoned, you expected this. That was what angered her more than anything else. It meant that all this growth, this evolution as a person that she thought she'd accomplished away from the magnetic pull of House was meaningless. She had not only thought he'd come some day - she had hoped.

You are happy, she reminded the voice. And it was true. She had a fiance, a strong and daily-growing reputation as an immunologist who was constantly being consulted on strange cases - why was she even thinking about giving that up to go back to Plainsboro? She'd convinced herself that House and that hospital had been her "rebound," her foray into life after David before she could truly start over. Going back would mean...what?

Out of the shower, she dressed for a comfortable evening at home and began to prepare the semi-lavish dinner she'd been planning ever since telling House she'd "think about it." News like this could only be broken over some kind of fish - grouper, she'd decided at the market. `Hi honey, how was your day? Want to move to New Jersey so I can work with a misanthropic son of a bitch I was once attracted to?' She outwardly smiled at the thought, while her inner voice only piped up, Once?

With a sigh she went back to her cooking, wondering just where that fianc of hers was. Most likely dealing with botox obsessed patients. Probably something to do with the crappy weather too. She was about to slice vegetables for the salads when a firm knock sounded on the door. Rolling her eyes at his inability to ever remember his keys, she wiped off her hands and shuffled to the door.

Briskly and impatiently she threw open the door, her face one of playful chastisement as she said, "What did I say would happen next time you forgot your key?"

"Gosh, I don't know, but count me in," the voice of House actually caused her jaw to drop open in surprise. She noticed, as she had not before, that he was wearing the same hat and coat as always. It both comforted her and angered her. She absently said his name aloud, and he gave her a few moments to absorb the sight before her.

"How did you -"

"I called the hospital. This time I cheated," he said. And she was briefly and absurdly amused by the disappointment in his voice.

"The hospital just doesn't give out-"

"I told them I was Wilson." His answers were unusually quick, his cat and mouse game suspended for the moment. She began to wonder why until she saw him involuntarily shudder, leaning a little heavier on his cane. Instinctually, she opened the door wider and heard herself inviting him inside. He gruffly acceded, looking uncomfortable. She would never get over how uncomfortable he could make someone feel for helping him.

With the door closed, heat regained the upper hand, and it seductively danced with the cold between them. She felt as though she were staring down a paradox. She could feel the chill seeping out of House, but the fierceness of his personality in his gaze belied any notions that he was cold. Forcing herself to at least attempt mental compartmentalization, she refocused her attention on the strange noises coming from her kitchen and the impending arrival of a certain doctor. The two stood in charged silence, not knowing why, nor what to say.

"Grouper?" House asked, searching the air above him as though it might morph into visual aids to help his nose. She nodded, suddenly thinking of how she looked to him. Then she almost laughed at the absurd triviality of her thoughts.

"What are you doing here?" Her words came out a bit more panicked than she'd intended, a fact noticed by House. Attempting to gain some control over her voice, she added, "You can't be here. You can't be here."

"You know, you really have lost some of that sickening sweetness. Does Wilson know? He must not, cause the first person he'd go blaming would be me."

"House." Her tone was serious and warning. "You really can't be here. I thought you were going back to New Jersey."

"Flight was canceled," he said in an uninterested voice while his eyes expertly scanned her home, looking for something, anything. "They're kind of closing the airport." She looked at him helplessly. "They set up cots for us." It took her a moment to realize the implications of his dilemma and then a moment more for her to realize the need to avoid the train wreck she knew was about to occur.

"And the hotels?"

"Booked. You think I'd be here if they weren't?" She failed to respond to his comment, and was surprised to find herself bristling at it.

"And there's no one else you know in Boston?" Here he gave her a dark look which she shrugged off - revenge for his previous comment. "House, I'm sorry, there's just no way..."

His face twisted into a wry look of disappointment. "Papa Bear?" House intoned, and it was like a slap in the face. In the same day he'd walked back into her life, jumbled it up beyond her wildest imaginings, and was now trying to calmly reassert his position as her unwanted life coach. She'd spent five years building a complex mental defense system against him and it had taken him all of five minutes to make her forget she'd ever quit. "So, what's the verdict?"

"House," she said, her tone now pleading, "You don't understand."

"Oh my God," his eyes gleamed, his face lighting up, "You're a lesbian!" She shot him a deadly look as she moved away from him, creating more distance. He gave her a strange look but, instead of glancing away, she held his gaze.

"Richard...doesn't know that I know you."

House's eyes gleamed like a child's and his tone was full of wonderment as he said, "His name is Dick?"

"Let's just skip the fact that you're five for a second, shall we?"

"Okay," he nodded, assuming a faade of seriousness, "You're right. So...you're afraid he'll be jealous once he finds out you used to work for me? Is he obsessed with me too? I can see why you guys get along; you've got a lot in common."

"He doesn't know you. I mean, sure, he's heard of you. But the kinds of things everyone always says about you. I've been there when your name comes up - he thinks you're some kind of mad scientist."

"He's a cosmetic surgeon whereas I am a real doctor. He sucks shit out of people's thighs and injects poison into their faces and I'm the crazy one?"

"He's a doctor, okay? He went through medical school, just like you and me."

"Yeah," he scoffed, "Except I went to a real medical school while you went to some kind of girly vet camp."

"He's got some of your old papers, articles on you...he marks them up, brings them to dinners we have with his colleagues. You're not the only doctor they do this to," she shrugged, "They just know that they can...rely on you. For fodder."

"And yet he doesn't know you were one of my grunts? What's the matter, afraid they won't believe your first-hand stories?" His words were sarcastic and biting. She wondered, though, (as she always did) if, at the end of the sarcasm, he felt.

"You don't understand - he doesn't really know the real you. He doesn't know that I know you either. That's why you can't be here, please. If you're here then I have to explain how I know you - and why you're here - and I can't do that with you here." House's face turned blank for a moment and Cameron was unsure what to make of his veil.

Just then, the sound of a key turning in the door caused both of their heads to snap in that general direction. "Ali, I told you to lock the door," a deep voice came through the doorway followed by a tall, dark-haired man in a snow-crusted trench coat. Dr. Richard Whiting's face went slack upon seeing House and then, with an astonished look at his fiance, broke into a large grin. "Dr. House? Dr. Gregory House?!" he exclaimed in disbelief. House managed to turn his ever present frown into a straight line, but stood still, saying nothing. Oh shit, Cameron thought, pasting a smile on her face.

"Sweetheart....ah...uh...Dr. House, this is my fianc Dr. Richard Whiting. Honey, this is Dr. House."

"Dr. House, this is an honor. I can truly say that you are the last person I ever expected to see here." Turning to Cameron he asked in a quieter voice, "Is this an early wedding present? My birthday? How'd you do this?" House looked very uncomfortable, though he had shaken Richard's hand. Damn him for this - damn him, Cameron thought furiously. There was no turning back now.

"Actually, I kind of know House," she began tentatively.

"What?" His head swiveled back between the two in amazement. "And you never told me?"

"Cameron's humble that way," House spoke up for the first time and Cameron held her breath. Richard regarded the man, slowly and thoughtfully beginning his appraisal. "That and she signed a non-disclosure agreement." Her shoulders slumped a little and she shook her head mouthing, `what?'.

"A non-disclosure agreement?" Richard asked.

"Yeah, I make all the kids do it. I find they're more willing to carry out my orders that way."

"Uh, okay," Richard laughed, deciding to go along though he didn't fully understand. "Are you staying for dinner?"

"My flight to Jersey was canceled, so that sounds like a great idea," House said quickly, glancing at Cameron's glare as he finished. After ascertaining that House was without accommodations, Richard extended the invitation through the next morning, much to House's victorious delight and Cameron's weary defeat. Richard excused himself to change for dinner, and Cameron shot House a perplexed look before wordlessly walking into the kitchen.

Dinner was awkward for Cameron, to say the least. She was constantly aware of House's information gathering in a way Richard seemed all but nave to. Richard was clearly under the impression that she'd arranged this all for his personal amusement. Every time he smugly inflicted a subtly sarcastic barb in House's direction she grew tense at House's apparent amusement and Richard's perpetual ignorance.

The lovely dinner she'd planned so carefully tasted like sawdust in her mouth as she choked down forkfuls in between House's comments. She was worried that House would mention the job offer, that he would allude to anything in her life at Plainsboro - things that she had tried so desperately to forget. Every time House asked another question she held her breath, willing Richard to be a bit more discrete with this man he'd just met.

It wasn't long before Richard was begging for a classic "House case," a story he could mentally add to his House collection. House himself looked delighted at the suggestion. As he drummed his fingers on the table, dramatically searching the ceiling with his eyes, Cameron fought back a chuckle. They weren't all that different, the two men in front of her. House, however, would always far outrank Richard in terms of mastering the art of manipulative sarcasm.

She decided to take control before House embarrassed her for his own amusement. Flipping through the memories, thick and slow in her mind, she settled on one of the less complicated ones, saying, "What about the nun with the copper allergy that one Christmas?" House narrowed his eyes at her intrusion on his fun, yet chose to remain silent. Richard, however, looked intrigued. Cameron briefly gave the upbeat, television drama version of the case, hoping that it would be enough to satiate Richard for now and that the discussion could move on.

"But how did you find out about the abortion?" Richard asked after she was all done.

"Well, Dr. House-"

"I got the head nun to tell me. You see, when they think she's dying, they'll tell you the truth."

Richard looked mildly disturbed at the latter part of House's statement and seemed to be forming another question when Cameron said, "Yup. Nun told us, House guessed what to look for, problem solved."

"Everybody lies," House said, waggling his eyebrows. Cameron decided that the next time she was alone in a room with House she would take his cane and whack him. Hard. It had actually been one of her fantasies even before she'd quit.

"Everybody...lies?" Richard repeated slowly. Sweet Richard, who, though a cosmetic surgeon, had a ridiculously strict set of medically ethical rules he enjoyed following. She had liked that about him. She liked less his critical mocking of doctors he deemed less "medically moral" than himself, but she couldn't deny that she had once been a little like that herself. It was why he'd become obsessed with House in the first place, seeing him as a powerful talent pitifully wrapped up in his own amoral agenda. Cameron could hardly blame him - she'd once thought the same herself.

"Who wants dessert? I've got pie," Cameron said, starting to clear the table.

"What do you mean by that?" Richard asked.

"I've always thought it was pretty self-explanatory," House said, crinkling his face in mock confusion. Cameron tried to shoot daggers at him with her eyes, but only succeeded in getting purposely ignored as House delved deeper into his fun.

"Yes, but you can't mean-"

"Richard, Dr. House has offered me a job." Both men instantly turned toward Cameron, very different expressions on their faces.

"A job?" Richard's voice was filled with such innocence and honesty. The day had been a nightmarish blast from the past for her, but she could only imagine how these latest, strange, semi-betraying events were affecting his mind.

"Yes, as a sort of partner in his differential diagnoses department," Cameron explained, trying to sound cheerful.

"His department...in New Jersey," Richard said, and Cameron didn't miss House's eye-rolling at her fiance's slow comprehension.

"Yes. But I haven't decided if I'm taking it yet," she said quickly, "I was actually going to tell you about it tonight. He just asked me today." There was that strange look from House again - and then, gone. As Richard began to ask more questions about Princeton Plainsboro, Cameron once again felt herself on safe, solid ground. Part of her, however, could not escape from the amused and unusual silence of House, from the thoughtful way he gazed at her - from his analysis of her that she had promised herself would never occur again.