"Cuddy," growled the ever-familiar voice, the annoying voice, the voice that always had some hint of mocking or sarcasm. Who else could it be but Doctor Gregory House? No one but. It never was. Lisa Cuddy looked slowly up at him.
"Dear lord," she groaned, "what did I do this time?" Long, red fingernails tapped against her desk impatiently. House narrowed deep, precious blue eyes, and she almost lost herself.
"My patient! Why the hell did you release him?" House hissed, cane clutched tightly in his hand and snapping her from her reverie. Lisa noticed that, especially today, House had been clutching his cane tighter, leaning harder on it. His knuckles were a deep alabastar color.
"Because he was ready to go home," the Dean of medicine replied calmly, shuffling her papers. She ignored a deep heartache in her chest. "You had diagnosed him, you had treated him, he had healed, and I sent him home. Do you have a problem with that?" She blinked when he slammed a piece of paper onto her desk with his free hand. It was… "House, why did you scan his brain?"
"Damnit, Cuddy, read the results." And she did.
"He has cancer?" She gazed at him questioningly.
"What tipped you off?" House snapped. "He has cancer, Cuddy. Get him back!"
"Why did you test without my permission?"
"What makes you think I'd ask? I never ask," he pointed out. One shade of blue eyes met the other. "Get him back." He headed out toward the door, then stopped to look over his shoulder and say, "Next time you screw up my patient, Cuddy, do you think you could wear a little more revealing shirt? The twins make it easier to forgive you." Then, House was gone.
--
Doctor James Wilson looked at the other team members. Taub. Kutner. Thirteen. He repeated, "I'm resigning."
Thirteen asked kindly, "Did you tell House yet?" The oncologist shook his head.
"Thought I'd tell you three first. House… I'm not exactly on best terms with him now," he murmured. Troubled brown eyes flashed to seeing Amber lay there, dead, decaying. Well, OK, she wasn't decaying. But she was still dead, and it was all that egomaniac's fault. Wilson bit back a sob. Immediately, Thirteen embraced him, patting his back in a friendly way. Taub rolled his eyes.
"Please," he said, "take the waterworks outside." This earned the short doctor a glare from Thirteen, and he stuck his tongue out at her.
"Come on, Jimmy," soothed Thirteen, cooing softly. "Let's go." She led him back to his own office, where Wilson broke down, sliding against the closed door and letting tears roll down his face.
"She's really gone," he sniffled. "I'll kill House!" Thirteen slipped down next to him, shaking her head.
"No, because he's your best friend," she whispered. "It wasn't his fault. He didn't ask her to come onto the bus with him."
"No," James agreed. "But she came to pick him up because he called me… bastard!" he swore loudly. The tears stopped and he quivered with anger. Thirteen grabbed his wrists to stop him from shaking.
"Jimmy, calm down. You're just grieving. Now, about resigning… are you sure you want to? If you keep your job, you'll be able to stay with us. If you leave, well, you'll have nothing to distract yourself." Wilson looked up at her, eyes obviously blurry from hot tears. "It's just, you aren't sure what you're doing yet, I mean, you're no-" She was silenced when something crushed against her lips. It was Wilson.