House was lounging in the E.R watching Dr Riley run around trying to fix everything during her shift. He sipped the soda, his feet resting on the station desk. Riley looked at him folding her arms. Her expression was less than amused.

"Don't you have to do work?" She asked.

"Yes," House nodded. "I just don't want to do it." Riley raised an eyebrow. "Listen, my psychiatrist told me to only do the cases when I feel like I can handle them."

"So why are you not in your office watching your soaps?" Riley asked. "Is Foreman looking for you?"

"Oh, you know me too well," House shrugged.

Paramedics burst through the doors. Riley pulled on some latex gloves and rushed over to the gurney.

"Lisa Cuddy 44-year-old. Passed-out on the motorway," The paramedic informed them. House got up when he heard Cuddy's name. "Before passing out she requested to be taken to this hospital. BP's good, pulse normal, but she seems to be unable to regain consciousness."

"Push 2cc IV fluids," Riley said. "Get an MRI, EKG, echocardiograms, CT scan and draw blood cultures."

House stood over her bed. She looked so helpless. Her hair was strewn across the pillow. Riley touched his arm. He looked at it for a moment.

"House, you're gonna have move," She said.

House blinked, looking back at Cuddy. "Can I get her charts?" He asked.

….

House slammed his cane down on the desk. He turned to look at Thirteen, Taub, Foreman and Chase. Wilson stood beside him. House scribbled on the white board, his face set.

"Are you sure that we are the best people to treat Cuddy?" Thirteen asked, staring at the board.

House put the pen down. He turned to look at her.

"What she means, it's just…" Taub sighed. "We know her. Our personal influence could cloud our judgement."

House didn't reply. "Right," He said, pointing to the symptom ignoring Taub's comment. "Differential,"

"For passing out?" Foreman asked. "Um, dehydration? Tiredness? Those ring a bell?"

House shook his head. "No," He said. "It isn't them,"

"How can you be sure?" Chase asked. "It sure sounds like exhaustion," He shrugged. "If I had a kid and had to juggle such a huge job and House, I think I'd be tired."

"She's been juggling them for almost a year," House muttered. "No way would she start getting tired now."

"How can you be sure?" Thirteen insisted. "You immediately presume its something horrible. Why won't you wait until the test results come through?"

"Because," Wilson said, unfolding his arms. "House had a dream where Cuddy was ill, and seriously."

"I thought you didn't believe in that sort of stuff," Taub frowned. "You called it mumbo-jumbo,"

"I don't… Since… I'm more open to things now," House said. "I think my subconscious was trying to tell me that she was ill before she…" His sentence failed to finish.

"Are you using Freud's theory here?" Chase asked. "Because there is an important word to consider. It is just a theory,"

"But it makes sense," House said. "It fits; it's the same reasoning I had when…" He looked at Wilson. "When Amber died."

The team fell quiet, remembering what House went through to save Wilson's girlfriend. They looked up sadly at the older Doctors, silent and thoughtful. House shook away the memory. He pointed at the board again.

"What could it be?" He asked.

"Infection? Perhaps a fungus?" Taub suggested. "What about something environmental or genetic?"

Riley entered the office. Her face grim. She handed House the results of the tests. "She has cell fragments in her blood." She said. House opened the file and stared at the words. "And she can't swallow properly," Riley said. "I suggest you move fast." She left. House turned to Thirteen.

"Go take a medical history," House said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Foreman, Chase, check her home for toxins or whatever might explain these symptoms."

Chase, Foreman and Thirteen nodded. Chase and Foreman left hurriedly and Thirteen lingered a little longer to get her jacket. "House," She said. "She's a working mom. Don't you think that she would more likely be exposed to something new in her office rather than at home?"

House bit his lip. He turned to Wilson. "We'll check it out." Thirteen nodded, picking up her leather jacket. "Oh and check if anyone else is ill at the home," House ordered. He picked up his cane and looked at his friend as his employee left.

"You know the prognosis," Wilson said. "We both do,"

"Not without confirmation." House said. "Scan her neck, check her eyes and do a biopsy,"

Wilson nodded. "That's what I figured." He sighed and picked up his lab coat. "I'll order the tests."

….

House sat beside the bed. He was watching her sleep. Well, she thought that he didn't know that she was awake. House frowned. That made no sense. Cuddy smiled softly and turned her head.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

House smiled at her. "Nothing,"

"No, I mean the tests," Cuddy replied. "Why are you doing them?"

"Because," House said, sighing. "You are the boss of me and if you die, I'll have to manipulate someone new."

Cuddy smiled."It's nothing to do with…"

"No," House confirmed.

Cuddy's smile wavered. "What do you think it is?" She asked.

"Nothing good," House replied.

"How long have I been here?" She asked.

"Loss of time?" House asked. "That could be a new symptom,"

"House, it's because I'm in a hospital and the blinds have been shut ever since I got here," Cuddy replied.

House sighed and tapped his cane. "A day," He replied.

Cuddy sat up. "Where's Rachel?"

"It's alright," House said. "Lucas is with her. He's taking her in as we speak. We'll take care of her while we treat you,"

Cuddy nodded. "Wilson was in here, getting a lung biopsy," She said. "And it was Wilson…" She stared at House. "Do you think I have cancer?" She asked.

House didn't reply. He clicked his tiny penlight and flashed it into her eyes. Her pretty brown eyes were rimmed red. House sighed. "Damn,"

Cuddy looked up at him fearfully. "What is it?" She asked.

"Nothing good," he replied.

"Hey, look who's here to see mommy,"

House and Cuddy looked around to see Lucas holding Rachel in his arms. Cuddy Smiled. "Rachel," She held out her wire covered arms and Lucas gently placed the napping baby on Cuddy's lap. She pressed her hand against Rachel's tiny face, tickling her ear.

House cleared his throat and stood up. "I'm gonna go… Check results," He realized that no one was listening. He sighed and left.

"So what do they think it is?" Lucas asked.

Cuddy looked up. "Nothing that bad," She lied. "I should be outta here really soon."

Lucas smiled and kissed her.

….

House stood watching, peering through the blinds. Wilson joined him.

"I think you should talk to her," The oncologist said.

"You have the results?" House asked.

Wilson nodded. "Their not good," He handed the file to House. He read it slowly. "Our suspicions have been confirmed." Wilson said. "She has stage four small cell lung cancer."

House looked back at the happy smiling family.

"She's gonna die," He said.

"Yeah," Wilson agreed. "6 months at the most,"

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