"House," Cuddy said from the doorway.

"Busy, knee deep in vital research."

"Scouring the internet for porn is not vital research."

"Says you."

"I've got a consult I'd like you to take a look at."

"It's not porn; I'm just checking to make sure the webcam I set up in your bedroom is functioning properly."

Cuddy set her jaw with a sigh. "Patient. Consult. Now."

"What part of busy don't you understand?"

"You don't have a patient."

"The clinic's empty, ER is fully staffed and Cameron's got it under control."

"This one's over at Presbyterian."

"Bike's low on gasoline."

"Patient presents with acute blindness."

"Awww, maybe his mommy should kiss it and make it better."

"No glaucoma, no other complaints, blood pressure's stable, no history of eye problems, no diabetes."

"Don't they have doctors at Presbyterian?"

"Their ophthalmologist is on a mission trip in central America."

"So he should be transferred."

"Patient refused to be taken to Princeton Plainsboro; the Presbyterian ER staff made a call on his behalf."

"The patient's an idiot."

Cuddy stood across from his desk, set the file in front of him and leaned over so that she was nearly nose to nose with him. "Take this case, House."

"There's nothing you can say to make me take that case," he said, finally turning from the computer to look her in the eye, challenging her with his gaze.

"The patient is Wilson."

House looked away defiantly, feigning disinterest. "I'm sure they can handle him."

"House, he needs you."

"No he doesn't; he won't come to this hospital for treatment specifically to avoid me. I think he's made it very clear that he doesn't want my help."

"He may not want it, but he needs it."

"You've been to his place several times since he left; since you're so buddy-buddy, you can tell him I hope it all works out for him."

Cuddy placed her hands on her hips, refusing to back down. "Why do you have to be so stubborn? You want to help him, but you're too damned you to admit it. He's already pushed you away, moved, said he's not your friend anymore. He can't do anything more to hurt you, but if you don't take this case, you can certainly hurt him. Is that what you really want?"

"He won't allow me to treat him," House said as he ran his hand down his face.

"He doesn't have to know it's you."

"How?"

"I don't know; the staff can tell him his doctor had his jaw wired shut; he can't see, remember?"

House looked at her in disbelief. "Yeah, that'll work. He's an idiot, not a moron."

"The longer we wait, the more likely the blindness may be permanent."

House strummed his fingers on the desk and glanced briefly at the computer screen before allowing his gaze to rest on the folder in front of him. He read the name on the tab, his stomach burning just a bit; each letter as familiar as those in his own name. There was no question whether or not he would take the case, there never was; it was Wilson.

"How long has it been?"

"Two hours since he was brought in; three since he began to lose his vision."

"Page my team, I'll have to run the differential from Presbyterian. You're driving; I can't talk and steer the bike at the same time."

"I can't leave; I've got a meeting that's been on the calendar for more than a year. You're going to have to go over there alone, House. Here," she said, passing her car keys, "Take these."

"I've got my bike."

"And how do you expect Wilson to get back here?"

House shrugged his shoulders. "He won't come."

"He might. He's alone and probably scared right now. He needs a competent doctor, but he needs his friend more."

"Yeah, well you know what he said; I don't fit the friend description."

"You do today," she said grabbing his hand and dropping the keys onto his palm.