Chapter Nine

a/n Oh, the irony. I've had this ending planned since I started the fic. And then the House finale comes out of nowhere, and I'm sitting there going "Holy shit! When did I become mildly psychic without knowing it?" *snort* Anyway, sorry this took me so freaking long and if the end feels a little rushed, but here you go.

Also, I would like to remind all readers that I don't have the first clue about medicine, so I decided on this without worrying about whether the symptoms would fit the diagnosis.

It was the latest MRI, the swelling on the lower legs, that finally clicked in House's brain. And as soon as the thought flashed through his mind, he wanted to squash it down, deny it, vehemently and violently force it away.

Except it fit, like nothing else had.

He knew what Leia had, and for first time, he hated finding the answer.

… …

"Hey, Padmé," Leia smiled.

Wilson wanted to leave.

"I have cancer, don't I?"

"What?" He stared at the girl in shock. "How did you-?"

She raised her eyebrows, and her smile was like a mother telling a child they were being silly. "Everyone's been avoiding me. Which suggests that you found something that you don't want to tell me about. And then the person who finally comes in is the oncologist. I have cancer."

The word were matter-of-fact, and Wilson kept waiting for the sorrow and regret. Maybe she still didn't understand how severe it was?

Her next words disproved him.

"So, how long've I got?"

Wilson had to sit down. She was too calm, too collected. "Why aren't you surprised, or scared?"

The smile was the same mocking one Leia always seemed to turn on the cancer doctor. "First of all, I'm an athlete, Wilson. I could tell something was wrong. And when nothing was making it better, I just decided I would square myself in case this was it. Second, I have faith. Sure, I don't know what'll happen after I'm dead and gone. But I believe that God will be there, and things will be okay.

"So, I gotta ask again: How long?"

This girl never ceased to amaze him. She was such an odd mixture of goodness and cunning, hope and acceptance, belief and cynicism. He bit his lip, "A month. Maybe less."

"Great!"

"What?"

She shrugged. "I was worried I wouldn't have time to do a couple things. But with even two weeks, I think I can do what I need to do."

He couldn't help the laugh that escaped, as he shook his head. "You are the strangest girl I have ever met."

She dipped her head in a little bow. "Thank you, Your Highness."

"As for your options, there are several experimental treatments that could-"

"Wilson." Leia cut him off. "The only reason everyone is this depressed means that whatever I've got is inoperable, and chemo and radiation aren't gonna do anything. I'm okay."

"But the pain-!"

"Padmé!" the girl grinned brightly. "I refuse to be drugged to the gills the last month of my life. I want to feel like I'm alive while I still am alive. I can deal with the pain."

The tears finally fell, and Wilson didn't know how to stop them. "You know," he chuckled through the downpour. "I really wanted to hate you at first."

Her wink was conspiratorial. "Oh, I know. It was kinda cute, truthfully. Now go get House. I think I'm ready to check out."

Nodding, understanding, the oncologist turned and walked out the door.

The temporary good mood of House was officially at an end.