Title: I Guess We Really Need To Move On
Fandom: House MD
Characters: House/Cameron
Prompt: #26 Cost for 50scenes and the quote from Wuthering Heights for fraternizing
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Set post finale. There were some things that they both just had to let go of.
Disclaimer: I do not own House MD or anything else mentioned in this story.
A/N: Thanks so much to the mods at fraternizing for letting me post this late, and thanks to my beta Gabby, who is absolutely wonderful.

A/N2: Edited to remove the beta note I forgot to take out. Color me embarrassed.

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"I lingered round them, under that benign sky: watched the moths fluttering among the heath and harebells, listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass, and wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth." Wuthering Heights

House looked up at the sky and saw the stars, but they didn't mean anything to him. There were romantic illusions tied to those little pin pricks of light. He poured himself another scotch and plucked a few more cords on his new guitar. The alcohol burned down his throat. It was the perfect weather for brooding and he had plenty of that to do.

They had all left him.

He would find a new team. It would be fairly simple now that he has the formula down.

Take one egotistical doctor who would disagree with everything he said; mix in one who needed his approval and would always agree with him; and then sprinkle a doe-eyed and innocent one who would be morally opposed to everything he said.

Hell, he put one together on that plane, and they weren't even doctors.

House meant every word he said to Foreman. They were more alike than Foreman would ever want to admit. It was one of the reasons he hired him in the first place. House wanted to watch it happen, that illusive moment when Foreman realized how alike they were; it was like creating his very own Frankenstein.

And much like the monster, Foreman freaked. Maybe, years from now when House looks back at this, his reaction will be funny. Right now it isn't. Right now it's just a reason to drink.

Oh well. Who cares? It doesn't matter.

Lies get easier to accept as he takes another sip of scotch. There would be other brilliant doctors. Foreman would not be the only one to ever challenge him. It was for the best anyways.

Just like getting rid of Chase was for the best. He really doesn't know why he fired Chase. House wished that he could say he'd been waiting for the right moment to fire him ever since Volger. He wished he could say that he still had some kind of grudge against him. But, he can't. House never cared enough about Mr. Good-hair to hold something against him for that long. The only thing he can truly ever say was that he was surprised that Chase had even lasted as long as he did.

Chase wasn't really a reason to drink, but that had never stopped House before. If he really wanted a reason to drink, he could start thinking about her.

"Allison"

He said it aloud as if it was a fetish word, half worshiped, half cursed. He always wanted to be able to call her that. There was such an intimacy to it; it would make her his.

Even she had left him.

He never thought he would see the day. He knew it was irrational, and that eventually she wouldn't be his fellow any longer, but that didn't mean he expected her to leave.

Whatever happened to her wanting to change him? Was this it, had she finally given up?

He hadn't changed, not really anyway. He definitely hadn't changed in any of the ways she might have wanted.

It had been a year since he had been shot and had himself pumped full of ketamine, but his leg still felt the same. He was still just as broken.

It had been months since the disaster with Tritter, months since his supposed detox´, but he was still popping more pills than most junkies. He wondered if she liked the bitter taste of Vicodin that was always on his tongue.

It had been months since they kissed, (maybe she hadn't liked the bitterness as it mixed in her sweet taste), but then she went right back to fucking Chase. The wombat couldn't be that good in bed; House refused to believe it.

"So, this was the end, huh," he thought looking back up at the sky, took another swing of scotch. The stars seemed meaningless tonight. They were dead, like his eyes must have been when she said goodbye. It was a real sobering thought.

He needed more alcohol if he was going to continue down that road.

They could have had something. They had their moments. Moments when she made him feel happy, alive. Moments where he knows he made her feel the same. But he was too stubborn, too much of a coward, to make any real change.

If he wasn't he could have asked her to stay like he wanted. He could have pulled her into his arms and erased any of her lingering doubts about him wanting her. She would have come apart beneath his hands, and he could have followed, and everything would have been ok for that one moment. They could have felt alive.

He could have been happy.

House couldn't shake the feeling that he had missed his last chance; it had walked out of his life with an "I'll miss you".

She would miss him; what the hell was that crap! He would bet his morphine stash she told the same line to the other two.

He took another swallow of scotch to dull the pain, but no amount of alcohol would change the fact that he did not want her to go.

He just did not want to move on.

He looked up at the stars one last time and wondered if she was sleeping peacefully under them tonight.

Someone should be, at least.

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House would never know that Cameron watched those same stars. She couldn't sleep either.

She had to get away from there. She had lost herself somewhere along the way, though she doubted it was his fault. She didn't know if she liked who she was now.

Maybe she would move to California. That seemed like enough space to put between House and herself. He would never breech that distance.

It was for her sake alone. If she was any closer she just wouldn't be able to stay away. She was just as addicted as he was.

Cameron didn't know what would have happened if she would have stayed.

He made her crazy. He made her want to throw away everything she had worked for just for another taste, for just a bit more of his bitterness on her tongue. She craved it and loathed it all at the same time.

He made her want all those things good little girls weren't supposed to even wonder about. Lately, she could hardly pay attention during differential. He would stand just a little too close, and the lingering brush of his hand would have her imaging things that were definitely not work appropriate.

She'd never been like that before. He made her crazy. It was the only explanation for it.

She just needed to get away. House wouldn't like it, but what did she care at this point.

There were some things that could never change.

There were some things that they both just had to let go of.