Cuddy and Wilson sat together in the cafeteria, both nursing steaming hot cups of coffee, food untouched in front of them.

"What do you intend to do?"

"I don't know."

"Well… He won't say it, but he wants you to come back."

"I can't drop everything in New York, Wilson… It's easy to said than done. Rachel's enjoying herself in school, I have a job and – "

"You're happy."

"Yeah. I am."

"That's why he didn't want to tell you, you know."

"I know."

"Are you coming back only because he's dying, Cuddy? Because that's the last reason he wants you to come back for…" Wilson asked frankly. "He hates pity."

Cuddy found in her found a conviction that had somehow appeared after visiting House in his room. The tears were gone now. Crying never helped anything, and wouldn't right now.

"This isn't pity. This is… knowing that it really doesn't matter anymore. Not with his condition."

Wilson looked at her, long and hard. He needed to make things clear. There was no way she could take off again if the going got tough, because that would crush House. Which was the last thing he needed.

"Cuddy… It's not going to be pretty. You know what he's like. And if you're going to leave, then – "

"I'm back, Wilson. For real. I know I decided to leave him when I couldn't handle the real him with the Vicodin… And maybe that was a mistake. Perhaps my expectations were too high, and I totally overlooked the harsh truth that addicts will relapse at one point or another – "

The look on Wilson's face told her that he agreed with her. She knew he thought that breaking up with House over one pill was a mistake. He had told her that House had confided in him, saying that he only had the intention of taking one pill. Perhaps breaking up with House had been inevitable in their relationship with their vastly different personalities, but the circumstances it had ultimately occurred in had been totally crazy.

" – but it really doesn't matter anymore, does it, Wilson? He did some crazy stuff, but he's House. And frankly, I've been running away because I still have feelings for him and this place reminded me far too much about him."

"You're taking a big step, accepting him back again after all that has happened."

"If you can do it, why not me?"

The two of them exchanged bittersweet smiles. House had really put them through the wringer for the past decade. How many times had they had their own discussions about House, and what they needed to do to intervene? And still, the two of them forgave House again and again, and were drawn to him like moths to a flame.

"Wilson."

"Yeah."

"How is he, really? I want the truth. Not the sugar-coated one that we know you've probably been giving House."

Wilson's smile faded abruptly, and he looked back down at the coffee in his hand. It was cold, he noticed absently.

"It's… it's palliative at best, Cuddy. It was too late when we found out." Wilson ran his hands through his hair. "It did shrink the tumor slightly, but the latest tests… weren't good."

Cuddy seeing the distraught look on the usually unflappable oncologist's face, reached across the table to take his hand into hers.

"You've done a great job so far."

Wilson harrumphed. "You can't choose your friends. And if I could have my way, he wouldn't be working anymore. He's a stubborn bastard."

"He insisted, huh?"

"Even Jones couldn't say no to him. We all know what he's like. It was all he had left. The team's been helping out here and – "

"How long more does he have, Wilson?" Cuddy squeezed Wilson's hand tightly, half afraid to hear the answer. "I need to know. I really do."

Wilson swallowed hard. He had avoided thinking about this for as long as possible, but this bout of pneumonia had forced him to recalculate and take stock of everything. He had been keeping it to himself, choosing to believe if no one else knew, maybe it wouldn't matter at all.

"Four… five months?" he whispered. "If he continues being the mule-headed ass that he is, maybe… six, seven."

"Okay," Cuddy breathed, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. "Okay."

"You just couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you."

"You're glad I did it, Greg. Admit it." Arlene smirked as she sat down next to him. She reached over and patted his arm rather condescendingly. Already, she could see a marked difference in him. An improvement. A fire in his eyes that had been extinguished but now was starting to burn again.

He rolled his eyes at her. "It was a dying man's request and you couldn't even honor it!"

She slapped him gently on the hand. "You are not dying. Not yet."

"It's wrong to hit a dying man," he shot back. But he caught sight of the frown on her face, and he amended his words. "Fine. A sick man."

"Stop it, Greg. Now that she's back, the least you can do is fight harder."

He seemed to deflate. "I know."

"But?" Arlene could tell that he had reservations.

"I can't expect her to drop everything in New York. Because I am going to die, and then she'll have given it all up for nothing," he mumbled. "And the truth is that I am going to die, so there's no use denying that."

"Tush! Lisa will make her own decisions."

House snorted. He fixed upon her his blue eyes, but didn't say anything, then turned away. The two of them sat in silence for a while, both eyes fixed on the television screen. It was when the male lead onscreen was on his knees proposing to the love of his life that House spoke.

"Thank you, Arlene… For you know…"

"You're welcome. Now shut up. You're interrupting a very important moment."

She could see the small smile that quirked at his lips as he closed his eyes. And she too, smiled her own - a self-satisfied smile.

A few days later, Wilson stepped into House's room, only to find an empty bed. He spun on his heels, and walked over to the nurses' station.

"Nurse! Where's Dr House?"

He expected her to not know, but she simply shrugged and said, "He's been walking around the floor. He'll be by in about 2 minutes. We tried to get him back into bed, but…"

"But he was being himself," sighed Wilson. "It's okay. Thanks."

Sure enough, House limped around the corner, using his IV pole as a support. Wilson's hands automatically went to his hips as he stood dead in the middle of House's path.

"Why are you out of bed?"

"I'm all better already, Dr Wilson!" House chirped breezily. He saw Wilson's disapproving gaze, and switched his face dramatically to put on a pout. "Awwwww man… Please, mom?"

"House."

"My leg hurts," interjected House as he bent slightly to place his hand over his scarred thigh. "And I have been lying in bed for the past week."

Wilson relented, and began to walk alongside House. "Neuropathic?"

House nodded tersely. He'd already taken the meds and applied the cream Wilson had prescribed, but for some reason, they weren't working. But then again, his leg had never been particularly compliant.

They walked together in silence for a while. Wilson observed House out of the corner of his eye. Something was bugging him. Now all Wilson had to do was wait for the inevitable conversation to take place.

"Wilson."

Here we go. "Yeah."

"… Never mind."

"You can't initiate a conversation then just abruptly end it with a never mind without even giving me a clue what it's about."

"Yes I can."

"No, you can't. Is this about Cuddy?"

The lack of a response told Wilson that it indeed was so.

"House…"

"I thought it was clear we weren't going to talk about it."

"Stop doubting both yourself and Cuddy."

House sighed. Wilson in his mode would never stop. It was easier to just talk to him. "It's not fair to her. This whole stupid cancer thing… it's not fair to her. And to you."

"Are you saying that killing yourself now would make everything better?"

"No…"

"Then it's okay. Because I am your friend. And I chose to do this. So has Cuddy. And since friendship seems to be such a foreign concept to you, this is me letting you know that this is what friends do. And you can't choose your friends. So, stop it."

House turned to look at Wilson, at a loss for words. With a slight pang in his heart, Wilson smiled at House reassuringly. The concept of such unconditional friendship and relationships was something House still couldn't accept fully.

They rounded the corner, only to see Cuddy standing at House's room door. Next to her was a little girl.

House's eyes widened as he realized who that brown-haired little girl was. He shook his head imperceptibly as he made eye contact with Cuddy.

"She wants to see you," Cuddy mouthed.

House shook his head more firmly, and turned abruptly to try escape. But the walking had taken a toll on him, and he sagged against his IV pole. Wilson's arms immediately went around him, and House found most of his weight being supported by Wilson.

Before he knew it, he was helped back into his room, and settled into bed. The I told you so sentiments practically radiated off Wilson, who even raised the rails of the bed to trap House in bed, ignoring the dirty look that House shot at him.

But all was forgotten as Cuddy and Rachel entered the room.

Rachel was nine now, he calculated.

He closed his eyes. Maybe if he pretended to be exhausted and asleep they would all go away.

"Rachel, honey. Why don't you say hi to Wilson first?"

Wilson got the hint, and led Rachel out of the room by the hand. House kept his eyes closed.

"House?"

"I'm tired."

"Don't do this to her. She wanted to come see you. She remembers you. The first three months after you left, she kept asking for you."

"She was three, Cuddy. She won't know who I am now."

"She does, actually. She insisted on coming to see you."

"Does she know?"

"She kept asking why I was coming back to Princeton so often over the past week, and - "

"You told her. Great, yet another person who knows I'm dying."

"All she knows is that you're sick, House. Just let her say hi. She's missed you."

"I was with you for barely a year. Kids don't miss people they've known for only a year."

Cuddy pursed her lips and folded her arms in frustration. "So what, am I supposed to just send her home right now? Because that would totally make her day."

"It's better if she doesn't get all chummy with me – "

"Mom?" Rachel slid open the door and peeked in. "Can I come in?"

"Sure, sweetie."

House watched Rachel warily as she crossed the room and came to stand beside Cuddy. To his surprise, Rachel sat down on the bed next to him, and looked him in the eye, unafraid and not shy at all.

"Hi House."

House looked briefly at Cuddy. He got the message loud and clear from her fierce stare. Don't you dare brush her off. He sighed, and nodded back at Rachel.

"Hi."

Knowing that the two of them were better together when she wasn't around, Cuddy excused herself from the room, and left.

An awkward silence descended on the room, the only sounds being that of the monitors and machines. House noticed Rachel's wide brown eyes surveying him, taking note of the tubes that led out of his body.

"I'm fine, you know."

"Mom said you were sick."

"I'm fine."

"But you're in the hospital."

"I'm getting out soon."

"Are you dying?"

House was a little taken aback by the perceptiveness and honesty displayed by the young girl sitting just inches away from him. She wasn't shy at all. No doubt like her mother.

He couldn't bring himself to lie to her.

"Not yet… But everyone dies at some point."

Rachel hoisted herself further up the bed, and turned to face him, sitting cross-legged. "I remember you, you know."

"I'm surprised you do."

"Mom was too."

Another silence fell upon the room.

"Are you happy in New York?" House asked rather awkwardly.

"School's fun. Our apartment is nice…"

As Rachel's eyes lit up and she started describing to him her life in New York, House realized how much of a life she and Cuddy had built away from Princeton. And that it wasn't fair to expect them to come back.

" – Mom asked whether I would mind moving back to Princeton. I said I don't mind."

House frowned, and pinned Rachel with the full force of his piercing gaze.

"Wouldn't you prefer to stay in New York with all your friends?"

"I – "

"Stay in New York, Rachel. Aren't you happier there with all your friends that you've made in the past few year? You wouldn't want to come back to Princeton, and have to start all over again! There will be new friends to make, a new school to adjust to, and - "

"House – "

"Rachel. Hey. I think House needs to rest."

They were interrupted by Cuddy. Unbeknownst to them, Cuddy and Wilson had been sitting on a bench outside the room, watching House and Rachel. They had noticed House start to tire, but struggle to stay awake and become strangely agitated as the conversation progressed.

Wilson took Rachel by the hand, leading her out of the room, promising her some lunch in the cafeteria. But before she stepped out of the room, Rachel turned back to look at House.

"You're sick, House. And Mom wants to come back to take care of you. Me too. And if Mom is happier with you, I don't mind. I think I'll be happier around you too," she spoke at breakneck speed. "And don't think you scare me when you try to stare at me that way. I know you… You're just trying to scare me. And it doesn't work."

She bounced on her toes before waving a goodbye. "I hope you feel better soon, House."

She flashed a wide grin, a cheeky glint in her eyes before slipping her hand into Wilson's and leaving.

All the eyes of the adults in the room widened simultaneously, and Cuddy and House could only watch as Rachel walked off with Wilson, who shot them a bewildered look before letting himself be led away.

"She's bright," muttered House.

Cuddy sat down on the spot Rachel had vacated. "Like you said she would be. She skipped a grade, you know."

"Yeah…" House grudgingly agreed. "What is this I hear about you considering moving back?"

"House…"

"Don't, Cuddy. You can't uproot yourself and your daughter from the place you've lived in for the past four years. Don't."

"I've already made up my mind."

"I'm going to die, and then you would have moved back for nothing. It's not worth it."

"You think you're not worth it?"

"It just doesn't make sense for you to give up what you've had for the past four years in New York to come back now, at this point of time."

"Rachel doesn't mind. And I want to come back. I was running away, and left behind my friends and family – "

"That was my fault. Which is why you shouldn't – "

"Yes, it was. But now I want to come back. And since Rachel doesn't mind, we are going to."

"You really shouldn't, Cuddy. Don't do this."

Seeing the genuinely perplexed look on House's face, Cuddy took his hand into hers. She leaned in, and fixed a determined gaze on him, her blue-grey eyes piercing his cerulean ones.

"House. Listen to me. You're pushing me away again. You think I am coming back out of pity? Or that you don't deserve it?" she murmured. "We are going to move back. In fact, I've already spoken to Jones. I'll be working in Endocrinology. My friends are all here. My family is here. After four years away, I'm just coming home."

Before he could protest, she leaned over, and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. "Now rest, so that we can get you discharged soon."

"Cuddy…"

"I'm not going to change my mind, so whatever you say won't matter. Give it up. This is one argument you can't win."

House found himself too tired to protest, and too tired to engage in a battle of the wills against someone as strong-willed as her. And for once in his life, maybe he was willing to accept things as they came to him. He looked at her. He could still barely believe that she had come back to him despite all he'd done. And now, she was really coming back.

"Okay," he whispered. "Okay."