Here it is, at long last: the sequel to Saints and Saviors! I am currently on vacation and probably won't be able to update again until I get home, but I thought I'd at least post the prologue. I hope that everyone is still interested and that you enjoy it!

Beneath the Surface

Prologue

Love is something difficult and it is more difficult than other things because in other conflicts nature herself enjoins men to collect themselves, to take themselves firmly in the hand with all their strength, while in the heightening of love the impulse is to give oneself wholly away.

--R.M.Rilke

New Jersey would probably not come from many people's mouths if asked to name the most beautiful place in America. It would probably not even fall in the top twenty. Chemical plants, long stretches of dull highway, and flatlands dotted with giant corporate buildings were the images that most immediately sprang to mind when that tiny state was mentioned. Those images belied the picturesque countryside and post-card perfect towns which made up the unseen parts of The Garden State and gave truth to its nickname. Those images would be quickly forgotten by anyone who saw Princeton in the fall.

Flame-touched leaves clung to hundred-year-old branches, and the crisp air gave people a reason to breathe deeply. Such sweet smells as bonfires, cut-grass and damp earth would not be around for much longer. On tree-lined streets, children stood patiently on the sidewalks, waiting for the busses which would take them to school. Down one particularly quiet street, a red Corvette stirred-up eddies of leaves in its wake as it sped away from the curb and headed on a path towards Princeton University and the Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.

Doctor Gregory House was late for work, which wasn't unusual, and which rarely bothered him, but today he gunned the engine and broke the speed limit as he pulled onto the main road. His--he refused to use the word girlfriend--his Cameron was supposed to have a doctor's appointment and he wanted to be at the hospital by the time it was over.

It might have made more sense if he had simply gone to the appointment with her. After all, they had started the day in the same bed. But that wasn't his style. It wasn't their style. Instead, he would arrive, get his coffee and sit in his office with headphones on and gameboy in hand. He would be available if needed and feign nonchalance if not. At least until they left the hospital, at which point, he would badger her for information until she told him everything or told him to shut up. One or the other Probably the former.

The appointment was with the head of plastic surgery and would lead to Cameron's final decision about the scar she currently carried on her chest, the pale souvenir of the night she almost died. A night now seven months in the past. House sometimes had a difficult time believing that it had been just seven months, but this morning it felt like those months had passed in the span of a single breath.

Others at PPTH would have different thoughts on the subject. Most didn't even know that anything had changed. After nearly six months, those who did know were very good at keeping that knowledge to themselves. The first of those months had been filled with traumas that most couples only experienced in soap operas and particularly overwrought movies of the week. From dramatic beginnings, however, had come a low-key and surprisingly comfortable relationship, at least as far as House was concerned. He hadn't asked Cameron lately, but given her most recent performance in bed, he was fairly certain that she felt the same.

There were two others in the hospital who were also glad about how things had grown between the two: Cuddy and Wilson. Cuddy, because even though House was as insubordinate and impulsive as always, he was at least in a better mood most of the time. Wilson, because he was finally seeing his friend the way he'd been prior to his infarction, and also because House usually hit Cameron up for lunch instead of him.

Foreman, after initial misgivings, had taken a wait and see approach. Considering that he had no younger sisters, he was surprised at how Cameron seemed to inspire those feelings in him. He still wasn't completely comfortable with the situation but she seemed happy enough. He at least knew well enough not to voice any misgivings within earshot of either of them. He'd seen first hand how that had worked out for Chase.

The Australian had let his anger at House over the death of his father influence how he reacted to the fledgling relationship. A few verbal smack downs, from both Cameron and House, had at least taught him to keep his thoughts to himself. He could see that they both appeared happier, but he still couldn't understand it. His own attraction to Cameron didn't help matters. He just didn't see what about a bad-tempered, middle-aged cripple could possibly be an attraction for her. If he hadn't known that she'd had a crush on him before, he would have insisted that she just had some strange reverse Florence Nightingale syndrome.

As for the rest of the staff, most of the nurses had been on the receiving end of House's glares, and many of the doctors knew that House could find or invent some potentially embarrassing information about them. With those factors in play, gossip about the crotchety cripple and his attractive associate was kept to a minimum. Just the way House liked it.

He also liked the way people moved out of his way when he walked through the halls on the way to the diagnostics department. A few well placed crutch-steps ensured that people gave him a wide birth if they valued their toes. He wasn't scheduled in the clinic until that afternoon, so he didn't bother trying to evade Cuddy when he saw her coming around the corner.

"Good morning, House. In early today, I see," she said. The time was currently nine fifteen.

"Wouldn't want to miss a minute of the excitement," he replied, completely ignoring her little dig.

She gave a little sigh. Apparently her hope that Cameron would get him on her schedule was never going to come to pass. She'd seen the other doctor in the hospital at eight o'clock. Well, the diagnostics department didn't have any patients at the moment, and House wasn't due in the clinic until one, so at least he was only late for an appointment with his iPod. She was well past the point where she actually thought he'd spend his free time doing paperwork.

"Don't be late this afternoon. You know Mondays are always busiest," she felt obliged to at least make an attempt at ordering him around.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," House said with a smirk that told her she would be hunting him down at one-thirty.

He continued down the hall and Cuddy sighed and headed for her office, very grateful for the fact that most of the rest of the doctors in the hospital actually listened to her.

An elevator ride quickly brought House to his floor, and he limped along, past potted palms, chatting nurses and scurrying orderlies until he arrived at his comfortably familiar door. A steady push, and he was inside his domain, door slowly shutting behind him.

The autumn sun was filtering in through partially closed blinds, laying a pattern of stripes across his desk and floor and Cameron, who was already seated in his chair.

"I feel like I've lived this scene before," he said glibly.

"Oh good. You can tell me how it ends," she replied, crooked smile appearing and disappearing.

House glanced into the adjoining conference room and saw that neither Foreman nor Chase were there. Good. He sat down in his lounge chair and propped his cane against the wall.

"Given the fact that you're sitting in my chair waiting for me, I'm going to guess you want to talk."

"Two weeks," Cameron said flatly.

"That soon?"

"He has an opening first week of October, and if he doesn't do it then, he won't be able to fit me in until after Christmas."

"Ah… I guess a lot of hubbies probably get nose and boob jobs for their wives this time of year. The gift that keeps on giving."

She cracked another smile at his attempt to lighten the mood. "Yeah. Something like that."

"So."

"Yeah."

"You're ready. You want this." He searched her face, looking for tell-tale twitches and quirks before settling on her eyes.

"It's time," she said with a little shrug. "There's no reason to keep a scar that can be removed, and if I get it done now, I'll be healed before Thanksgiving and back at work. We seem to be busiest in the winter."

"Ah yes, work. Afraid the place'll fall apart without you here?"

"Maybe a little," she teased. "I had a mountain of paperwork the last time, and I still don't know how the three of you managed to break the coffee maker."

"It was poorly made, obviously."

"Obviously," she repeated, eyebrow cocked and one dimple showing.

"He's the best in the state." House shifted back to the other conversation. "Might find someone better in New York. I could call…"

Cameron was a little surprised by House's words, however grudging. He hated calling other doctors for any reason whatsoever. He hated feeling at a disadvantage, and if he was doing the calling, that meant he must need something.

"No. It's not that big a deal, really." She downplayed it because she really didn't want to think too much about the scar, how it got there, or the procedure that would remove it. Thinking of it as routine surgery was easier. Like a mole removal or a tonsillectomy.

"Sure. Whatever," he quickly agreed.

Cameron stood up, sunshine falling over her shoulder and across the right side of her face. A half-dozen steps and she was at the door. "Well. That's it. Thought I'd tell you so you didn't have to badger me later."

She knew him well.

"Right. I like to reserve that for Wilson and Cuddy."

"I have some tests I promised I'd run for the immunology department, since we're slow here," she told him, standing by his footstool and leaning against his bookcase. "Lunch?"

It was rare for them to actually make plans to eat together at work and even more rare for her to be the one to suggest it.

"Sure. You're paying."

"Of course," she said with an amused grin. "Don't I always?"

He didn't need to answer that, and a few moments later, she was walking down the hallway and his door was slowly drifting closed again.

Usually they tried not to be seen standing too close to each other in the hospital. It wasn't a conscious move on either of their parts, just something that they did instinctively. By the same token, they never ate in the cafeteria together unless Chase, Foreman, Wilson or some combination of the three were also eating with them. They didn't think much about it, it was just simpler that way.

When they did eat together, it was either in House's office, (with Cameron trotting down to get their food) or in a little café a few blocks from the PPTH. It would have been more convenient to go to the restaurant across the street, but too many other doctors went there.

It wasn't that they were hiding, but again, it was just simpler to be subtle.

Cameron was surprised, then, when House came limping down the hall in the eighth floor immunology department at five minutes to twelve. She was filling out a chart at the nurses' station and quickly scrawled her signature as he approached.

"New patient?" she asked, loud enough for the nurses to hear her.

He gave half a scowl that turned into a look of resignation. After all, this was how they'd both been playing.

"No. It's time for lunch. Ready to go?" he also spoke loudly enough for people passing by to hear.

The questioning expression on Cameron's face slid away, replaced by an arched eyebrow and very quick smile. "Yeah, I'm ready." She placed the chart back in the rack and tucked her pen into her pocket.

"Good. I'm starving." House turned and led the way to the elevator, knowing that Cameron was just a step behind him. An extra click from her heels and she was beside him, lab coat gently flapping, brushing against his leg as they walked. Holding hands without touching.

They stopped at the diagnostics department so that Cameron could grab her pocketbook and jacket.

"Clio's?" she said as they reached the elevator, naming their usual spot.

"We may be in a rut," House replied.

"But it's a nice rut. I like it," Cameron told him, answering his much earlier question about whether or not she was content.

"Yeah," he admitted, trying to make it sound grudging, but not really succeeding. "Me too."

Cameron kept her smile inside, but let her wrist brush against the back of his hand as they passed through the doors to the garage.

A few minutes later they were seating at a tiny round table, plastic trays overhanging the edge. Reuben and French fries for him, cream of broccoli soup and half a chicken sandwich for her. Cameron blew gently on a spoonful of soup and glanced up to see House staring at her.

"What?"

"That's what I wanted to ask you."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're the one who called this little lunch meeting," he replied.

"We eat here all the time," she countered.

"We eat here all the time because at eleven thirty I get hungry and page you to get food, or you wander up from the lab and tell me I'll rot my eyes out if I play any more Metroid. We don't come here after planning it at nine in the morning."

Cameron gave a little shrug, that acknowledged the truth of his words. She wasn't that surprised that he had read something into her casual invitation. Anomalies fascinated him.

"I guess I just wanted to know where we'd both be at lunch. That we'd be together," she said, breaking crackers into her soup.

"Something happen at your appointment? Something you aren't telling me?" The words weren't said with any kind of harshness, but there was a hard look in his eye as he prepared to gauge whether or not she was telling him the truth.

"No," she assured him. "Everything was fine. He thinks it'll be a relatively easy surgery."

"Well then?"

"If I knew, I'd tell you," she said earnestly. "Maybe it's looking at it so clinically, or thinking about it so much, or maybe it's just the fact that I'm not really looking forward to being a patient in this hospital again. Maybe all of that. Maybe I just needed to feel a little closer to you and didn't want to wait until after work. Can you just accept that?"

House's face didn't register the fact that he was a little taken aback by Cameron's rapidly spoken words, but her expression showed that she was surprised to have spoken them.

"I can accept that," he said, reaching out and rubbing at the side of her mouth with his thumb. "Soup," he said when she stared at him, but they both knew there hadn't been anything there.

They finished lunch with conversation about the hospital and their plans to go to a football game on Sunday with Wilson and Julie. House was betting that they'd be going with just Wilson, but Cameron, little ray of sunshine, held out some hope that their friend and his wife could go more than two weeks without having a major blow out. House mentioned that he just found it ironic that of the two of them, he should be the one in a stable relationship.

His mouth snapped shut after those words passed his lips, and Cameron pretended to ignore his little slip, and if the corners of her mouth turned up for the rest of their meal, neither of them said anything about it. House was swallowing his last bite of sandwich when he wondered how much of a slip it had actually been, and how much had been his mind seeking to give Cameron the reassurance she seemed to need. The thought didn't seem strange or make him annoyed with himself for his perceived weakness, as it once would have. It made him feel content.