Based on House M.D, young Doctor, Elena Winters, joins the team. Long blonde curls to her knees, big bright blue eyes. Petite, 5'0. Sweet, innocent and vibrant. The exact opposite of House. Her demeanor is quick to attract him, pulling on his longing to hear her call him Daddy, and be his little (DdLg), something he hasn't felt with his previous women. Cuddy, is same as ever but starts to notice houses pull to Elena making her jealous as she watches him stand up for her, be sweet to hurt, everything he never did with her. House is sarcastic, rough and intelligent. With Elena his mind loses the quick quips and his rough hands become gentle, he could never hurt her not even her heart. Cameron is selfish, always does the right thing if it rewards her, always wants to be center of attention, has previously shown liking towards house but when he asked her out she said no, but is regretting it now that she isn't the only woman anymore and house is obsessed with Elena. She'll do anything to be center of attention again. Cuddy will do what it takes to get House back, even though she rejected him, and get him to treat her like he treats Elena. House has never felt this way before and even finds himself becoming sober because he doesn't need to feel numb anymore, not with her.
The silence in Cuddy’s office after House left was a physical thing, thick and sour. She stared at the door, her chest tight, the image of his protective stance burned into her vision. He’d never looked at her that way. Not once.
A soft knock broke her trance. Cameron entered, her expression carefully neutral. “You wanted to see me about a case?”
“Sit.” Cuddy’s voice was raw. She didn’t bother with preamble. “You saw it. The little performance with his new protégé.”
Cameron’s mask slipped, revealing a sharp flicker of bitterness. “Hard to miss.”
“He threw away his Vicodin.” Cuddy let the statement hang, watching Cameron flinch. “For her.” She opened a drawer, slid a thin manila folder across the polished wood. It wasn’t a medical file. Elena Winters’s name was typed on the label. “Find me something.”
Cameron didn’t touch it. “Something like what?”
“Anything.” Cuddy’s gaze was relentless. “A misplaced decimal point on a script. An overly familiar consultation. A past he wouldn’t like. You know his triggers better than anyone.”
Cameron’s fingers finally brushed the folder, her nails pale against the manila. The hum of the fluorescents seemed to grow louder. “Why?”
“Because he’s broken,” Cuddy whispered, the truth ugly in the half-light. “And she’s just the wrong kind of glue.” Cameron picked up the folder, her jaw set, and left without another word. The conspiracy settled into the room, cold and precise.