Wilson sat in his office with his hands neatly folded, resting on his lap. He was thankful his chair was ergonomically correct and comfortable because he was going to be confined to his office all day sitting in that chair. He had several appointments scheduled that day, like the one happening right now with Mr. Joaquim Silva.

"Mr. Silva." Wilson took a moment to collect his thoughts and looked away for moment. His mouth was dry and felt like it was closing up. "After running several tests we noticed that your CA19-9 levels were elevated and…"

Wilson unclasped his hand and leaned forward.

"And based upon the CT scan yo…"

House cracked open Wilson's office door and stuck his arm through. He waved a file in his hand. "Special delivery, for a Dr. Wilson." He stepped into the room unaware that Wilson was not alone.

Across from him at his desk sat a thick silver-haired sixty-three year old man with matching handlebar mustache. "Pleased to meet you," he said in a very thick accent.

The man wiped his palms on the sides of his long sleeved black Henley, stood up and extended his arm toward House. House in turn shook his hand while handing the file over to Wilson.

Wilson glared at House, extremely annoyed because of the intrusion. "House, can't you see I'm busy?" He motioned his hand over to Mr. Silva then reclined back in his office chair with his arms folded across his chest.

"But, this really can't wait."

Wilson opened the file, pulled the X-Ray film out and held it up in the air toward the fluorescent recessed lighting above them.

Mr. Silva's eyes widened. "What the hell is that?"

House looked over at the patient and nonchalantly remarked, "Oh that? It's nothing."

Wilson tried to get the patient's attention, "Mr. Silva?"

The patient shook his head vigorously. "No. That's not what it looks like to me!"

House shrugged his shoulders. "Unfortunately, I can't say."

"Oh God, you don't know what it is?"

"Of course, I know what it is. But, I really can't say for legal reasons. Doctor-patient confidentiality."

Mr. Silva ripped the X-Ray out of Wilson's hand then questioned House. "You can tell me Doc. What is it? It's a tumor, isn't it?"

"It's not a tumor," House answered in a poor impression of Arnold Schwarzenegger. "Come on. I think it's fairly obvious what it is. Draw your own conclusion."

Mr. Silva spoke in his native Portuguese tongue and clutched his gold chain and crucifix near his chest. "Meu Deus! É pior do que um tumor!"

He looked directly at House.

"It's bad. Isn't it?"

Wilson interrupted again. "Mr. Silva!" But his words had fallen on deaf ears.

House tilted his head to the side and squinted at the X-Ray. "Yes. It looks pretty bad. But it will be all over soon."

The patient pressed House for more information. "So, what are we talking about…a year? Six months?"

"I'm guessing probably in the next fifteen minutes or so."

"What?"

Wilson bellowed, "Mr. Silva! Mr. Silva! I've been trying to tell you. That's not your X-Ray."

House looked at Wilson then back at the patient. "Oh my gosh, you thought I was talking about you? No." He stretched out the last word. "No. That idiot has been in surgery for the last twenty minutes because he got a little too friendly with his backscratcher, if you know what I mean. There's a good chance he perforated his colon and may need a colostomy."

Mr. Silva took in a deep breath and blew out a sigh of relief. "Whew! Thank God!" With a nervous smile he held his arm out in front of him. His hand trembled. "Look at me. I'm still shaking."

Wilson gave a sideways glance to House. "Can you please wait for me outside?"

House obliged but not before taking the X-Ray away from the sweaty patient's hand. "Excuse me." He bowed his head and mouthed the words "five minutes" to Wilson as he exited the office.

"As I was saying Mr. Silva we've got your test results back and," he paused, "and I'm afraid I have to be the bearer of bad news. You have pancreatic cancer."

Mr. Silva fell back down on the chair behind him as fear washed over his face.

Wilson continued, "The tumor is large and it's clearly evident that the cancer has spread beyond the pancreas into the lymph nodes."

The patient tried to comprehend Wilson's words, but they sounded muffled. He strained his ears. "I…don't understand. I've just been feeling bloated and had a little stomach pain. And I would get that feeling every time after I ate my daughter-in-law's bacalhau."

"Mr. Silva."

"She's a lousy cook. I never met anyone so disastrous in the kitchen."

"Mr. Silva."

"You're mistaken. Her bacalhau gives everyone gas, especially my primo João. I've been having bad indigestion that's all."

"Mr. Silva!" Wilson shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"What? What are…you…saying?" Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion.

"I'm sorry to tell you that you're looking at about six to ten months with treatment. Three to five months without."

House retreated back to his office and plopped in his chair in front of his computer. He threw his cell phone on this desk and logged on to play a game of online Poker. When he was on his third hand he noticed out of the corner of his eye a flashing green light on his cell phone.

He picked it up off the desk and checked his voicemail. There were fourteen messages from a blocked number. Thirteen consecutive hang-ups followed by one very long, strange recording. It was the song, I Will Possess Your Heart by Death Cab For Cutie.

House hung up the phone puzzled by the blocked caller ID and time stamp on the message. It said it was recorded at eleven thirty in the afternoon when he and Cuddy were in the ER. If Cuddy couldn't have called him then who did?

This wasn't some random mistake.

He bit his lip and thought hard, narrowing down the list of callers who had his personal cell phone number. He grabbed his bottle of Vicodin in his coat pocket, popped the lid off and placed two large tablets down his gullet.

Mr. Silva's mind wandered as Wilson comforted him. Family members, living and long gone, flickered through his mind followed by a broad spectrum of emotions. His heart was heavy and he felt disconnected from the world.

He slowly rose from his chair. "What am I supposed to tell my wife? My kids?"

Wilson walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm here for you, Joaquim."

A downtrodden Mr. Silva nodded and left in a stoical manner.

Moments later House entered Wilson's office again. He threw the X-Ray at him and pointed. "You owe me two bills."

"I swear you have the worst timing."

"More like you."

"How so?"

"You've interrupted Cuddy and me many times pre and post coitus. What? What's with the face?" He waited a beat. "Grow up."

"House, I was telling a patient he was dying."

"We're all dying. The minute after we're born, Wilson. Circle of life."

"I know." He looked down for a moment. "But it never gets any easier telling someone, does it?"

"No, it doesn't." House approached Wilson's side. "Are you, okay?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"Good."

He held his palm out.

"Now cough up the money."

Wilson pulled out his wallet and placed two one hundred dollar bills in his hand. He was about to hand it over to House but then decided to retract his hand at the very last minute. "Wait." He examined the X-Ray a bit more closely. "How do I know this isn't a fake?"

"I can assure you Wilson, it's not a fallacy."

"But, you've tricked me many times in the past before. You're just playing with me?"

"This isn't a game."

Wilson stood his ground.

"Okay. You want proof?"

House reached into the inside of his lab coat pocket, pulled out a beautifully hand carved back scratcher. It was twenty-two inches long and made of solid oak. The front end was uniquely shaped like a cobra's head.

"Here. Here it is. Here you go." He waved it in the air and tossed it at Wilson.

"What the?"

Frightened, Wilson jumped and defensively covered his head. The back scratcher hit him in the leg then clamored to the ground.

"Relax." House held up the back scratcher and pointed it in Wilson's face. "It's sterilized."

"Yeah, you should be too."

Foreman and Chase approached Wilson's office. They had been trying to look for House. Once they reached his office they couldn't help but hear Wilson yell, "House! Get that away from me!"

"You asked for it." House jabbed the back scratcher at Wilson's abdomen.

"Stop."

"No."

"Stop that!"

House resumed prodding Wilson with the back scratcher.

"Stop trying to poke me?"

"Wilson. Will you just look at it? It's huge. Can you imagine this rammed all the way up your ass?"

Foreman and Chase looked at each other with widened eyes and decided not to interrupt whatever was happening on the other side of the door between House and Wilson. They quickly left the scene.

Repulsed, Wilson answered, "No, I can't and don't want to."

House gave the back scratcher a once-over. "Honestly, I don't know even know how Cuddy can handle all my seventeen inches."

"You're disgusting."

House cleared his throat and placed the back scratcher on Wilson's desk. "Show me the money, Wilson."

He was about to hand over the money to House but stopped again. "Wait. I've seen this. You keep this in your desk."

"You've been rifling through my drawers behind my back?"

Wilson grabbed the back scratcher and threw it back at House. "This is yours!"

House began laughing. "Damn."

"I knew it!"

"You are so gullible, Wilson. Unfortunately, the truth remains the same."

Wilson tilted his head and folded his arms.

"Yes, that back scratcher may be mine, but the real one is still somewhere deep in a patient right now."

Wilson began placing the money back into his wallet.

"Go see it for yourself then. I'm sure he's in surgery now. You may have to fight the crowd in the observation deck though. There are other bets in place."

"Such as?"

"Well, I get another fifty bucks if it's not made out of plastic, like Hourani seems to think. So, either give me the money or go watch the extrication for your sick, twisted viewing pleasure."

Wilson handed House the money. "On second thought, I'll take your word for it."

"Thank you." He tucked the bills into his right breast pocket that was adorned with his official PPTH name badge.

Wilson suspiciously looked at House up and down. "So, what's with the lab coat and tie anyway? I thought you said you never be caught dead in one of those?"

"No. I said I'd never be caught dead in one of your ties." He grabbed the boring striped maroon silk piece of fabric, "Oh. This is one of yours," and flicked it in the air.

Wilson rolled his eyes.

House grabbed the lapels of his coat. "Cuddy finds me irresistible when I wear one of these."

"Maybe she pretends to act that way because she wants you to act like an adult and wear the damn thing like the rest of us doctors."

"No, I'm pretty sure this makes her hot. She's really into role-playing."

"I'm so glad I asked."

House placed his hand on the doorknob, ready to leave Wilson's office. "Hey, got any plans for lunch?"

"No. Why?"

"Nothing. I just thought you'd like to join Cuddy and me in the cafeteria. You look like you could use a little company, especially after the appointment with your last patient."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess I could use a break."

House looked at his watch. "Say, in about half an hour?" He pulled out the two hundred dollars out of his pocket and held it up. "I'm buying. Well, technically you are."

Wilson looked over his appointment calendar. "I can do that."

"Great. See you then."

As soon as House went back to his office, Wilson ducked out of his and headed toward surgery. House, meanwhile sent all of the ducklings down to clinic and tried to find something to do other than work for the next thirty minutes.

It was a perfect plan. He would get out of doing clinic and make Cuddy mad. Her adrenaline would rush, her pulse would heighten and she'd jump his bones in a heartbeat.

House smiled and laced his hands behind his head, reclining back in his chair. "Her lips say 'no', but her hormones say…"

His cell phone rang.

He picked it up from his desk and looked at the Caller ID. Private Number. He ignored the phone call and let it go directly to voicemail. After the message was completed, he checked it almost immediately. I Will Possess Your Heart, the same song from the previous message played in his ear.

His thoughts turned toward Cuddy, the one person that made him feel something other than the numbness in his heart. Made him feel love and be loved in return. She had always been the only one that has everpossessed his heart.

Who was trying to convince him otherwise?