The hallways were as bright and shiny as she remembered. Clinical sterility really could give time a run for its money, she thought. For a moment she was on her way to the office to start the coffee. Bright-eyed, eager, hopeful. She wondered if she had changed. She wondered how much. As she neared the glass doors that had served as her threshold to pain and pleasure for three years she hung back slightly, knowing that what she saw would pull her out of her reminiscing. She could not, however, ignore the sounds of the cat and mouse game known fondly as "differential diagnosis with Dr. House" that spilled out from the slightly open door.

Carefully remaining out of view, Cameron scanned the whiteboard - still the same! - as she attempted to make sense of what she was hearing. House was attempting to order his newest charges to dispense a risky medication to a sick boy. Cameron wondered again at Princeton-Plainsboro's ability to circumvent the otherwise inevitability of evolution over time. Or perhaps that unique ability was better attributed to House himself. Cameron watched history repeat itself as the two younger men seated in front of House protested the treatment, citing the mother's unwillingness to consent.

"Tell her what this will do to her son's skin. Ask her if she wants a son that looks like swiss cheese," House insisted.

Before any of the boys could reply, Cameron leaned against the doorframe and said, "You better do like he says or he's just bound to find some illegal way to do it." The two doctors looked up at her in confusion - one actually looked pissed at her interruption. House, on the other hand, looked calm and sedate - as though he had been expecting her that very moment.

"There's no reason to subject the patient to a risky treatment when there are clear signs that it's lupus," the pissed guy fired out, deciding to ignore Cameron.

"Hey," House boomed, "that's her line." Cameron pursed her lips but remained quiet. "Would someone like to inform Dr. Doolittle here why little Johnny-"

"Jason," the other doctor said. House continued on, ignoring the interruption, and Cameron, despite herself, felt a smile tugging at her lips.

"- cannot possibly have lupus?" He waited a beat and then looked over at Cameron expectantly. She hugged her arms close to her body as she felt her skin prickle. The same and yet not the same.

"If it was lupus we would have seen some improvement by now," the quieter doctor spoke up.

"Also her line," House sighed, settling down in a chair and swinging his cane. The room filled with the pressure of silence, causing pissed guy to pace.

"So what do we do?" he asked.

"You convince the mother to let us try this treatment and then we wait."

"We wait?" he asked with incredulous hostility, but House had already retreated to his office, inviting Cameron in with a nod of his head. She awkwardly faced the two doctors in what had once been her territory, her office.

"Hi, I'm Alison Cameron. I've just been hired on as head of immunology."

"Andrew Clark," the quiet one said, holding out a hand.

As she shook it the pissed one regarded her suspiciously saying, "Patrick Miller - you know House?"

"I wouldn't quite say that," she said, smiling ruefully. "I was a fellow here for a time though. It was nice meeting you both." She deftly slipped into House's office to avoid further questions, yet soon realized she'd merely traded one uncomfortable situation for another.

He stood at the window brooding, as she'd seen him do so many times in the past. He gently and soundlessly drummed his cane on the floor as he gazed through the half-open blinds without focusing. She had told Wilson to let him know that she was coming, yet she knew she was merely postponing his anger rather than avoiding it. It had been stupid of her to think that she could saunter back into his office, his space, and hope for any sort of amends. Seeing the hospital again had helped her remember her limited knowledge of House the man. She realized anew the great cost House had endured merely to track her down and ask her back, and found herself wondering - not for the first time - how she felt about his altering the course of her life yet again.

"I know you're angry," she said bluntly, bracing herself for his sharp sarcasm.

House did not disappoint, replying in a chipper voice, "Angry? Now why would I be angry?" Feeling uncomfortable occupying any of the seats that reminded her of past confrontations in that very office, she opted to lean against the side of House's desk - a move that situated her closer than he'd anticipated. "Just because I came to you, offered you a job, and then had you go behind my back to Cuddy...doesn't mean I'm angry. Now, having Wilson be the one to confess your sly deed-"

"House, I didn't-"

"Ah, ah, ah!" he swung his cane back to the ground and took a step towards her. Both stilled at their proximity. She had thought he was the same when they were in Boston, but now, seeing him in the place she knew him best, he looked...tired. "The deal was for you to work for me," he said, his penetrating eyes wide and unforgiving. She held his gaze for a moment, then lowered her head, shaking it and causing her curls to oscillate gently.

"Did you really think I was going to come back here to be your fellow? Again?" she said in an exasperated tone, her brow wrinkled in weariness. Her eyes searched his and he quickly broke contact. "I know you haven't forgiven me for leaving, I know you think it was brash and - I don't know. But that's in the past. I moved on, both personally...and professionally." He looked at her again, his gaze non-committal. He had become bored with the conversation.

"Look," she said hotly, taking a step towards him and pushing her shoulders back, "You may not like how I do things. You may think that I'm overly emotional and too hesitant - you're right. But I'm a damn good doctor. You know that, or you wouldn't have even considered asking me back. Cuddy knows it too, which is why she offered me this position. You started this, and now you're just going to have to live with it." She quickly walked to the door and was about to leave when his voice drew her back.

"That's all fascinating, really. But it still doesn't explain why you actually came back," he shot out at her retreating form. She paused for a moment and a look of pain that he couldn't see crossed her face. Lifting her head again, however, she continued on, disappearing down the corridor.

Later that day, Cameron found herself lost in thought in the middle of the lunch line. A cup of yogurt in one hand and a salad in the other, her gaze was unfocused as she inched her way toward the cashier. She walked away without thinking to take her change, and remained firmly in her reverie until the shouting of a familiar voice caused her to start. She looked to the left to see Wilson seated alone at a small table, a look of concern on his face. Smiling brightly, she walked over to him.

"Are you alright?" he asked in his classically panicked way.

"Yes, why?" she responded.

"You didn't seem to notice I was...you want to have lunch with me?" he motioned to the empty seat opposite him. She brightened at first, then looked around discreetly. "He won't be here," Wilson said, noting her movements. She sheepishly sank into the chair, immediately busying her nervous hands by opening her salad.

"How do you know?"

"Because Cuddy has him chained in the clinic - punishment for attempting to hire you without her knowledge." Cameron glanced up at him with worried, guilt-ridden eyes. "She's glad you're here," Wilson said quickly, feeling as though he had stepped into quicksand, "We all are. Look...it's,,,any reason is good enough for her to torture him, okay? I shouldn't have said anything." She nodded and smiled good-naturedly, unconsciously stirring her salad.

Wilson scrutinized his colleague as she stared into her salad. She looked...different. The fact that he couldn't describe how was really beginning to frustrate him. They'd kept in touch over the years, more so by e-mail than phone, yet he felt that he possessed an intrinsic knowledge of her state of being that simply wasn't helping him decode what he was now seeing. He and Cameron were by no means "best friends" as he and House were; however, she had assumed a very unique place in his life, as much for being herself as for her connections to House. Wilson didn't have many female friends that he hadn't either slept with or wanted to sleep with at some point. While he would be the first to point out that Cameron was beautiful, he'd strangely never gone there with her, even in his mind.

He'd been protective of her after she had first left, worriedly hiding any traces of their correspondence from House. He had given her references when she applied for new positions and served as a consult on some of her tougher cases. He told himself he was doing it as much for her as he was for House, but, after a while, he realized he was actually angry at House. House wanted everything about his life to remain the same - an extended personal hell for all eternity. Cameron had been a light, a way out of the darkness, and instead of grasping at it, House had turned away.

The past few years had changed Cameron in ways Wilson was just beginning to realize after seeing her again in person. She hadn't lost too many of her emotional tendencies, however her demeanor had become more reserved, just a bit more distant. Though still cautious, she was capable of making decisions that seemed outrageous to her colleagues and carrying them out in a calm, steady manor.

Her tendency to hunt down strange, unsolvable cases had grown so slowly and steadily over the years that he hadn't realized what a knack she was developing. The first time she sent a seemingly impossible case his way in an effort to surreptitiously get it to House, Wilson was apprehensive. He began to feel guilty for hiding his correspondence with Cameron, fearful that House would find out his well-kept secret. However, it seemed to him that House never suspected a thing. In fact, each case he passed on began to seem easier than the last. It was only in the moment he realized House had gone to see her that he began to have doubts.

"I'm sorry you were the one to tell him about Cuddy's offer," she said suddenly, looking up at him with contrite eyes.

He shrugged and replied, "It was actually kind of exhilarating. I mean, he's lucky you came back at all. I told him about the other offers you've been getting recently. Of course, you know him - it probably went in one ear and out the other." He waited for her to say more, and when she didn't he asked, "So, have you gotten a place here yet? Or are you going to wait for Richard to come down to pick it out? Or..."

"I was actually going to wait a bit and see how this all pans out," she grinned, "But for right now I've leased an apartment - not too far."

Wilson waited in the excruciating silence before gently prodding, "And Richard? Has he decided to make the move?"

"He's - we're - we haven't really...he can't just leave his patients right now, so we're going to wait and see what happens. Maybe in a few months, depending on how I'm doing, how he's doing..."

"But things are..."

"Things are good. They're great. I love Richard, you know, we're very...happy," she said rather calmly. "That's why I don't mind this whole arrangement. With David it was so...fast and powerful and...almost out of my control, in a way. And while it was amazing it was also tiring. So, happy is...it's a relief, you know? Happy." She nodded a little, as if to put the final punctuation on her argument. Wilson nodded too, understanding. However an old, familiar worry had resurfaced in the pit of his stomach and he wondered how many more days of peace he would have with Cameron and House in the same building.