A/N: Ok – I lied about when I'd post this. I started writing and was on a roll and couldn't stop! This is IT – the very last chapter. I had originally planned on a few more, but taking a look at my notes, I figured it would have dragged on WAY too long. I'm hoping that this last chapter will answer any questions you might have, because there will not be a sequel. I don't have the time to write anything of huge proportions right now, though I will definitely be back with more in this fandom, maybe with a few more one-shots here and there. Is there any storyline in particular that you'd like for a on-shot in the Hameron category? I am open to suggestions! Towards the end of the semester when I'm facing more free time, I might begin a new multi-chapter story – you never know. I've got a few ideas!

Anyway, what I want to say more than anything is THANK YOU. The response to this story has blown what I expected completely out of the water. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd get over 400 reviews, all of them positive! Thank you to everyone who took the time to place me on the story & author alert lists, favorite story list and the favorite author list. It means SO much to me that you even bothered – YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. The biggest thanks of all to those who left me reviews on each chapter, because they kept me going.

So … thanks again, and here it is – enjoy! I only got 17 reviews on the last chapter – hope I'll get a few more this time, as I worked hard to make it enjoyable and LONG. HINT HINT.

EPILOGUE (Cameron)

"The Beginning of Forever"

ONE YEAR, THREE MONTHS LATER

The last actual memory I have of my time on the island, was the look of fear upon House's face, and my need to tell him that I loved him. My world enveloped into blackness, the only thing I remember from the weeks I spent in the hospital were the vivid dreams. Dreams of myself flying along a deserted, pristine white sand beach followed. I walked the shores of that beach for what seemed to be days, searching for the source of the voice that would echo through the vast green jungle separating the shore from the opposite end of the island. Along with the sound of House's occasional laughter, came the haunting strains of a song – the same song I'd sung for House weeks prior – in what seemed to be his voice. I would try to cross the line and travel into the mess of trees, but an unseen force held me back. I sat there at the divide, listening to my name being called, and the sound of birds singing in the distance.

But still, I could not cross.

Then, I heard it. House's voice began to grow closer through the jungle growth, coming towards me.

"Everybody lies Cameron … especially me."

I tried again to cross into the jungle, and succeeded. I followed a path through the trees and to the waterfall I knew was hiding, in a clearing not far beyond. With each step I took, his voice grew stronger, louder. I picked up the pace and finally stepped into that clearing and saw him.

Cane thrust aside, he glanced briefly at me and dove into the pool, which was not water, but a sea of small white Vicodin pills.

I opened my eyes, and suddenly I was lying on a bed with House staring down at me, a telltale look of shock upon his face.

I spent three weeks recuperating in the hospital, with House by my bedside the entire time. It was then that I learned of my illness, and the appearance of Wilson and Cuddy on the island. Good old Dr. Wilson – he'd pulled through and saved both of our lives. I learned that House himself fought blood poisoning and illness, and that my parents had been there. He told me they had given up and had removed me from life support when I suddenly came back to the world of the living, giving everyone the shock of their lives. It was almost too incredible to be believable.

I did know though, that I owed one person – besides Wilson – thanks for saving my life. It happened to be the very man sitting next to me.

As the days in the hospital passed, my strength grew and I learned that I would be released soon to return home. Wilson and Cuddy had been by repeatedly, but House never left my side. We didn't speak of the time we'd spent on the island, or what we had been through – we just sat, hand in hand, quietly watching television. Together we faced reporter after reporter who invaded our privacy to get our accounts of what had happened, and waited patiently. Waited for the moment we could return to all we had known, and pick up where our lives had left off more than a month prior.

It ended up taking four dosages of Ativan to get the two of us home to New Jersey in one piece.

Hand in hand, we boarded the aircraft at the end of the fourth week in Australia, convinced that with each other's help we could survive the plane ride home. The plane sped down the runway and blasted into the air, and moments later House was informing Wilson that he should probably get out the drugs because by the look on my face and the fear he was currently hiding beneath his own exterior, it would probably be for the better.

Blissful slumber took over the two of us, and when we woke, we were touching down on American soil.

The hustle and bustle of Newark International Airport was a shock to both of us.

Fighting through the massive amount of television cameras and news reporters, Wilson and Cuddy led us to Wilson's car, where we both sighed in relief as we pulled away from the madness – neither of us wanting to deal with it, as we'd been through more than the average person has to deal with in a lifetime. Wilson nor Cuddy questioned the fact that House got out of the car with me when we arrived at my apartment, less than an hour later. With assurances that we would be ok, the two pulled off and left us to reacquaint ourselves with all we'd left so long ago.

For three months following our return to New Jersey, all I craved was the smell of the ocean.

Neither House, nor myself had returned to work. Finding it almost impossible to fit back in to a daily routine, we spent most of the time together, trading days at each other's apartments. Friends and family came and went, and their concerned looks passed before our eyes, but we gave them absolutely no thought. Friendly, reassuring words floated from my mouth each time somebody would ask me about what we had gone through, but I knew they would never understand.

Robert and his new girlfriend dropped by, and I wasn't surprised. He told me he couldn't stand to be alone following my "death" and she had helped him through it. I didn't care, not finding need to tell him he didn't really mean that much to me anyway. I suspected he already knew that, by the way House stood protectively by my side through the entire visit, his eyes boring a hole directly into Chase with a "I dare you to try and say you want her back," strength.

The only person who understood, had grown to be the most important person in my life.

I now knew why Stacy loved him so much, and my beliefs that there was a thoughtful, caring individual beneath the rough exterior were proven true. It was his hand that found mine at night, as a nightmare of the plane crash would find its way into my slumber. It was my hand that found his as he woke suddenly, night after night, in a sweat – clawing at the covers, shouting about fire and water. Neither of us said anything during those nights – we simply held onto each other until the darkness took us both back down again.

It was also during those days together that we began to take the trips to the ocean.

Driving through suburban New Jersey, we would continue until we ran out of land, and hit the shore. Checking into a hotel, we would head for the water's edge and sit there together. It was nothing like the sunny, bright blue waters of the Caribbean – the Atlantic shoreline being rocky, dark and depressing – but the smell was the same … salty and comforting. We would sit there together until long after the sun went down, then return back to the hotel room to talk for hours about our time together, followed by sleep in preparation for the drive home the following day.

Nearly three months since returning home to New Jersey, we made the mutual agreement to return to work.

That night, I returned home to my apartment and House remained at his.

We both shared a ride to work the next morning and returned to a mess of our colleagues into the conference room, welcoming us both back with a party. Smiling, I tried desperately to return to the person I once was and joined the celebration. House, chose to hide out in his office, which made everyone laugh – avoiding work like the plague being his true statement of normalcy.

Though in the months that followed, I began to notice something different about him. It was something different that gave everyone who had ever worked with him the biggest shock of their lives.

While still sarcastic and rude to those who got on his bad side, he had developed a personality that none (well, except for myself) had ever seen in him. Cuddy no longer had to constantly badger him to complete his clinic hours. While the jokes about her cleavage had died down to an on need basis, they had definitely tapered off. The nursing staff had begun to tell stories of House and Wilson in the cafeteria together, with House pulling out his own wallet to treat his best friend to lunch. I finally caught it myself, and Wilson's incredulous look as House paid a bill of over thirty dollars.

I also saw him react so uncharacteristically, as he helped me out in the emergency department. A young boy had been brought into the ER after the small Cessna aircraft he and his father had been flying had gone down in a field not far outside of Princeton. I pulled back the curtains to find House sitting with the six year old, holding his hand and telling him that he was going to be fine, and so was his dad because "more people than you know survive plane crashes, and things always end up fine." Tears formed in my eyes as I heard what he said, and I backed away slowly, a smile forming upon my face.

I never once saw a Vicodin bottle in his hands from that day forward.

Another month later, I would find out why.

Receiving a call from Dr. Wilson, resting after one particularly grueling nightshift, I learned that House had checked himself into the hospital. Racing from my apartment, I arrived at Princeton-Plainsboro to find he had checked himself in, only to the surgery department. Worried beyond belief, I rushed to the pre-op room to find House prepped for surgery, lying on a gurney in wait for a procedure I had no idea of.

"Greg? What is this?"

I grabbed his hand and he smiled at me.

"I made you a promise back in Sydney, and I've always been a man of my words … even if those words haven't always been said meaningfully."

He handed me his chart, and told me to open it.

I immediately saw the words "amputation at patient request – recommended several times by personal physicians over the course of his life post-infarction" leap off of the page. I looked back down at him and he nodded.

"I told you that I was going to be a different person when I returned home, and I will be – only this time, pain free from something I should have done so long ago when that old bitch Stacy sat by me, begging to listen to the doctors."

"But, why now? There are other alternatives you could try …" I started to say, but he cut me off.

"They are temporary alternatives, with no guarantee," he said, as he grabbed my hand with his left. "Besides, I think I'm going to need all the painlessness I can get."

"Why is that?" I looked at him curiously.

"Excuse me, Dr. Cameron – please, say your goodbyes because we're going to be taking him in, in just a moment." A nurse in operating room garb poked her head out of the doorway, giving me the thumbs up when I nodded in reply.

I turned back to House, and gasped in complete shock.

Now, resting in the palm of his left hand, sat a small black velvet box. I brought my own hand up to my mouth, not able to find anything resembling the English language. He opened the box to reveal a diamond ring sitting in its center, sparkling with the light of the fifth floor pre-op room.

"I'm so much easier to be around when I'm not in pain, or so I've heard," he said, smiling at me, "and I'd like to show you that, if you'll marry me."

Right then and there, I found myself crawling on top of the gurney, kissing him with a fiery passion I didn't know I had in me. Ignoring the loud whistling coming from the emergency room doors that had now been flung open, I continued to kiss him.

"I would tell you two to get a room, but the only one we've got available is currently booked for surgery in a couple of minutes." Dr. Wilson said, appearing, clothed in a blue mask and operating gown.

"SHUT UP WILSON!" House said, before pulling away from me.

"So?" House looked up at me, his blue eyes searching mine for an answer.

"YES!!" I managed to shout, as they began to wheel him away, tears streaming down my face.

"Allison, are you ready?"

I pull myself away from my thoughts of the past year, and back into reality.

Cuddy pokes her head further into the tent, before finally stepping inside, drawing the brightly covered canvas closed behind her. She smiles at me, and shakes her head.

"I can't believe it, I really can't."

I smile, and take one more glance at myself in the mirror. Standing up, I smooth out the fabric of my flowing white dress, and turn around to find my father standing next to me, standing tall in his black tuxedo. He asks me if I'm ready, and I nod – I've never been more ready for anything in my entire life.

We step outside the tent and I'm greeted with the bright tropical sun and white sand beach that I've spent a year longing to return to. We're back on the island – OUR island – only this time to do something I thought I'd never have the chance to do properly, ever again.

When discussing the plans to marry, the only thing that he and I could both agree on, was where we wanted it to take place (the arguments of House wanted to be married in a Rolling Stones t-shirt to Pink Floyd were arguments I eventually won). It cost a fortune, but the two of us had flown our closest family and friends to Australia, and with the help of Chase, his local friends and the massive settlements from the airline – we purchased the island the two of us had been stranded on over a year ago.

I travel the new wooded pathway through the jungle, my father by my side. Cuddy and Elise - Wilson and Cuddy's newly adopted five year old daughter (Wilson and Cuddy having recently made their own trip down the aisle) - traveled ahead of me, Elise gleefully throwing white rose petals into the air in a childlike burst of playfulness.

We reach the clearing, the sounds of the waterfall now filling our ears.

Ahead, at the end of the path, stands the man who changed my life in ways I thought were not possible. He stands tall, Wilson – his best man – by his side, beaming. Before us stands a justice of the peace, and in the chairs scattered behind us, our family, friends and colleagues we've come to know over the years past.

Walking forward, I kiss my father goodbye, and step up to the makeshift altar.

Joining hands with House, the justice of the peace begins the ceremony, until he reaches the time to recite the vows. Turning towards me, House looks contemplative, then speaks.

"Thanks for fixing me."

He winks, ignoring the puzzled look from the justice of the peace, and the laughs of the small crowd of guests. I laugh, the pictures of a corsage and an Italian meal gone wrong instantly floating through my head. It was all he needed to say – I knew that I had found the person my mother told me I'd find, as I looked through her wedding album as a tiny child of four, questioning her about the day I'd be married.

I turn to him, and look up.

"You asked me why I like you. 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. There are only two ways I can deal with things. One is in my control. That's to love you, no matter what you say or do, because it's not only because you are right – it's because you care. "

It takes a moment for him to remember a shared moment in his apartment complex, over three years ago. When he does, a fifty watt smile lights his face, followed by the sound of his laughter – no longer a foreign sound, only showing its head on a rare occasion.

As the ceremony finishes, I kiss him once again – though this time with morning meaning that I've ever been able to show through a kiss alone. Sounds of clapping erupt behind us, as family and friends gather around us. We chat for a few minutes, then depart back to the home that now stands on the island, a hundred yards away from the waterfall.

It is later in the evening, as the sound of music and our wedding guest's laughter echo throughout the jungle, that he and I find the time to steal away to the shore.

Hand in hand, we walk down the white sand shore until reaching an area with a small wooden bench – the same area where we camped out, bloodied, bruised and emotionally destroyed – and sit down. On the horizon, the bright orange sun begins its descent , and he and I watch together, silently. Tomorrow our guests and I will return back home to the United States and House and I will depart on a honeymoon (we made an agreement to return to Australia on vacation, and rent out our island while we are at home), but this moment is ours.

Suddenly, House notices something towards the shoreline and breaks contact to investigate. I follow quietly, and we both approach the water's edge.

Lolling back and forth into the water, and floating near the shore, is a small translucent orange vial. The paper surrounding the bottle is well worn away, but he picks it up, and opens the safety seal. Into his hand, fall a full prescription of pills – Vicodin – no doubt the very pills he searched madly for, one year ago; the same pills he was convinced he had on him at time of impact.

We both stare incredulously at them, when he puts them back into the bottle and flings it out to sea. Grabbing my hand, he smiles down at me.

"It's the beginning of forever, right Allison?"

I smile, and take his hand, placing it upon my stomach with a small suggestive smile.

"The beginning of forever," I say. He looks at me, in complete shock, his eyes questioning if I mean what he thinks I mean.

I nod.

We rejoin hands, and walk back into the jungle to join our guests, as the last of the sun disappears on the horizon.

END