Wow. Here it is, the final post of BtS, and the final look at this little version of House and Cameron's life together. I just want to thank everyone for sticking it out for so long, even through parts that in hindsight I want to revise, and through numerous breaks because of my stupidly fluctuating health. I have to admit that knowing that there were readers out there sometimes kept me going, particularly when I was feeling sick or overwhelmed with other things... it was such a relief to be able to forget everything else and write and know that there would be people who would appreciate even the not-so-well-written parts!

As with the Saints and Saviors epilogue, I do have a small favor to ask, and that is, if you've been keeping up with this story, I'd very much appreciate hearing from you, especially if you've never commented before. It just gives me an idea of how many people have actually been reading. BUT, feel absolutely no obligation… I feel greedy even asking when I already get such lovely reviews as it is. Thanks again, and you can bet that I will be working on other House/Cameron stories in the future… I may even hear Steve whispering in my ear. :)

Epilogue

Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other.
-Rilke

It had been a good day. Chase had correctly diagnosed their patient, clinic duty had been avoided, he'd had lunch with Wilson -- which translated to Wilson buying him lunch -- and now it looked like he would make it home before it started to rain. As he steered his motorcycle around a slow-moving Mercedes and opened up the throttle to speed off
down the street, he reflected that most days had been good days, lately.

There had been some restless nights immediately following the trip to that old abandoned field with Cameron, but they had numbered fewer than either of them had expected. Pouring out all of her bottled up emotions to the clear blue sky had proven very cathartic. The nightmares had still come, as they'd known they would, but instead of just curling into
House's embrace, she'd been able to talk about them within the dark safety of their room and his arms.

More surprising had been the nightmare that House had experienced. It had left him breathless, sweaty, and groping for Cameron's warm body in the night. She'd woken to his almost brutal kisses, and a glint of moonlight off his eyes had told her everything she needed to know. She'd just repeated that she was all right and then she'd placed his hand on the fading scar under her t-shirt. There hadn't been anything graceful about the coupling that followed. It had been too rushed and needy for that, but there had been no more nightmares afterwards.

That had all been over a month ago, and House knew that there would probably be moments and memories and that would temporarily push one or the other or both of them back into a dark frame of mind. The difference now was that he believed that such times were fleeting, and he felt that Cameron finally believed the same. The change had been subtle, but she seemed more carefree in ways he couldn't exactly pinpoint. He had to think that the doubts she'd harbored about her ability to actually lead a happy life had at long last been put to rest. The irony that she was the one who had always been more afraid of happiness than he was not lost on him.

The scent of rain tickled at his nose and he revved the engine up again and took a sharp corner onto a side street. It was a shortcut that would get him home in less than five minutes, but he still kept his eye on the looming rain clouds as he sped past older houses and one of the restaurants he and Cameron preferred. He pulled up in front of the townhouse, still ahead of the rain, and popped it right up onto the sidewalk and beside the front steps. He had a sheet of plastic waiting there and hastily tossed it over the bike; his concession to Cameron's little nag about him needing to take better care of it if he wanted it to last. He knew perfectly well that the bike could handle the rain just fine, but he also wasn't as cavalier about wet leather seats as he'd been in his youth.

With the bike covered and his briefcase slung over his shoulder, he limped around to the stairs and up to the front door, knowing that Cameron was already home, and feeling a distinct comfort in that knowledge. The door was locked, because she always locked it as soon as she got inside, but he already had his keys in his hand and only took a moment to open the door, standing there for a second as it swung open, and enjoying the sensation of homecoming. It was something he'd become a little addicted to over the past few months.

"Honey, I'm home," he called out in his most satirical voice. He heard a low chuckle from the kitchen and smirked, then dropped his bag from limp fingers as Cameron appeared in the doorway.

"Hard day at the office, dear?" she asked, a touch of coyness on her tongue.

"Nice dress," was how he replied, his eyes traveling from her face to her toes and all the satin-covered curves in between.

He was remembering the first time he'd seen it and how awkward and inadequate he'd felt standing beside her. He'd offered her a tentative compliment back then, but now his casual remark made her blush just the same.

"Thanks," she said, dropping character and letting a pleased smile spread between her pink-tinged cheeks. "I thought we should celebrate a happy milestone, for a change."

"If it means you, in that dress, I agree." He sounded like his usual cocky self, but the leering smile was softer around the edges, and his eyes lacked the harsh intensity that he leveled at everyone else.

"Did you even remember?" she asked, already knowing his answer.

"Of course," he said, almost gently, and then stepped back into character as he continued with, "I just wasn't sure if you were the hopeless romantic type who marks first dates and first kisses and first… other things." The corner of his mouth twitched upward suggestively,
along with his eyebrow.

"It was the date I was thinking of," she said, with playful exasperation. One hand smoothed up her leg to land propped on her hip. "Although the… other things… were also worth remembering."

House limped forward until he was standing right in front of her and quickly slipped his arm around her waist, tugging her close. It was the kind of boldly affectionate move that Cameron had never expected from him at the start of their relationship. He'd never even expected it of himself. He stared down at her with open desire and only minimally concealed affection. He didn't waste as much effort on that anymore, at least not when they were alone.

"So what great plans do you have for us tonight?" he asked. He jerked his thumb towards the window at the rain that had just started. "I think monster truck rallies are out." His thoughts moved to that first date and his expression turned doubtful. "You weren't thinking of trying to actually make it through dinner at that fifty-dollar-a-plate restaurant we started off at that night, were you?" Her dress certainly indicated that she expected something better than Denny's this time.

She looked a tiny bit smug as she pressed a hand against his chest lightly. "No, I wasn't thinking that, so you can get that worried look off your face."

"Well that's a relief," he said with an exaggerated sigh.

A slight twinge of realization surfaced in his mind. He'd felt uncomfortable and conspicuous in that restaurant, imagining how unsuited he was for the woman at the table with him, and how the other patrons were judging him. Now he thought that if she wanted to, he would be able to proudly take her into that restaurant and give dirty looks to anyone who glanced at them awry.

Cameron let her hand drift from his chest to his shoulder where she straightened his collar before taking a step back. "I couldn't make up my mind about where to go, so I thought I'd let you decide. Or we can just stay here and order in. Either way, you get to enjoy me in this dress," she concluded with a sly look. She had a feeling which he would choose.

It took almost an hour and a fifty-dollar delivery charge for their food to arrive. It came from "their" little Italian restaurant, which didn't normally deliver. House had told Cameron that he didn't want to miss the pre-season baseball game on television. Strangely, he didn't go near the pile of remote controls, but he did break out a dusty bottle of Chateau Latour.

They ate in the living room, with the rain pouring down outside, accompanied by blasts of thunder so loud and close that the windows rattled, but neither of them cared or even noticed much until the power went out. House had to direct Cameron down to the basement where he knew an old Coleman lantern had been stored, and she came back up the stairs with smudges of dust on her face, and cobwebs in her hair, a halo of blue-white light surrounding her from the ancient lantern. It was enough to set the metallic filaments in her dress sparkling, and House poured them more wine and motioned her to his side with a slight tilt of his chin.

She tucked herself beside him, kicking off the heels she'd worn for the sole purpose of accentuating the line of her dress before propping her feet on the coffee table beside House's. When he handed her back her wine glass, she tapped it lightly against his, the light ringing sound pitched high above the thunder and rain. It had been sunny and beautiful out that night he'd first picked her up on an official date. She remembered the way the warm air had felt against her skin, and the slight nip as the sun had set and forced her to tug her shawl around her shoulders.

They'd laughed over dinner, and then been quiet at the jazz club, and then returned to her place where he'd accidentally seen her scar and sent her slamming the bedroom door. So many emotions in one night. Too many, almost, but she still felt that she didn't want to forget any of them. They'd both been cautious and nervous that night, and she'd felt so self-conscious about everything from her looks to the topics of conversation she chose. Another burst of thunder crashed above the townhouse, and Cameron leaned into House's side, the soft fabric of his shirt caressing her arm. There was no fear between them now, and no hesitation either. So much had happened between them in the past year that it was difficult to catalogue and define it all -- except to know that they were inside each other in a way that was deep and unexplainable.

"Good anniversary?" House asked, the sandpapery gruffness in his voice, and a strong hand toying with the fabric of her dress.

"Yes." She answered with the only word that mattered.

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking too. Of course, monster trucks would have been good too."

"There's always next year," was her reply and he caught the tail end of her smirk even in the dim lantern light.

"True." He took a sip of wine that was more of a gulp and planted a nine-year-old boy's version of a kiss against her temple. "Ready for bed? Looks like the power's out for the night."

She stood up, wineglass still in hand, and reached down for him. "Thought you'd never ask," she said with that disarming smile of hers that could still make his stomach tighten in sweet anticipation.

"Great minds think alike, and all that," he quipped, accepting her hand as he would accept it from no one else. "You want the lantern?"

Her fingers slid naturally between his and squeezed lightly. "I know the way, and I don't think we'll be needing it once we get there."

House nodded and they walked down the hall to the bedroom. He stopped her outside the door and dropped his head to hers, kissing her deeply and not caring that they were both letting wine slosh onto the floor. When he drew back, her eyes were shining and he could still taste her on his lips.

"I could do with a few more years like this," he told her, voice pitched low and rumbling up from his chest.

Another slight squeeze from her hand and she grinned at him. "More than a few," she said, definitively.

His eyes met hers and held them for a moment. "I can do that," he replied, and they walked into the bedroom together and shut the door.

While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.
-Wordsworth