"Don't talk to me," House said when he heard his office door open behind him. He was standing in front of his white board with a marker in hand, writing out symptoms of his third patient. Thirteen was the only doctor in the room - everyone else was at lunch still.

"How did you know it was me?" Wilson asked, not moving from the doorway.

"Dicks give off a disgusting smell," House answered and turned from the board to stare at Wilson with angry eyes.

Thirteen stared from one to the other and made a move to leave, and House looked at her and said, "don't you dare move."

"This is between you two, not me," she said defensively, and when House didn't give in she sighed and turned back to a book she had open on the desk. House turned back to Wilson and waited.

"I didn't mean for what I said to come out that way." Wilson took an uneasy step into the office and House turned his back on him again. "Don't do this. I don't know why you're upset all of the sudden. You were good last night, and this morning. What changed?"

House closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath before he spoke. He kept his voice as calm as possible and asked, "I can't be upset for no reason?"

Thirteen stifled a laugh from the desk and House and Wilson both turned to stare at her, confused. She shook her head and smiled to herself, keeping her eyes on her book. "You never do anything for no reason, House."

"You told her to stay," Wilson said when House glared at the back of her head.

"Fine," House pulled his beanie off his head and threw it on the table. Thirteen glanced up when the beanie moved some papers, and her eyes widened slightly. "We may have had a real nice heart to heart last night, and you may have talked me into doing the right thing by continuing chemo, but I can't get these thoughts out of my head." House pulled his Vicodin bottle out of his pocket - his morphine was good, but he wanted to save it for later - and popped two pills in his mouth. He turned his back on both Thirteen and Wilson, who had identical surprised expressions, even if they were for different reasons. He grabbed his cane and started walking to his office.

Thirteen and Wilson followed House and Thirteen blurted out, "do you have cancer?"

Wilson said, "it's okay to be depressed," at the same time.

House sat down at his desk and ran his hand over his bare head uneasily. I should've made Thirteen leave.

"Stay," Wilson said softly, and House looked up and saw Thirteen stopped between Wilson and the door. "He needs someone who understands."

House groaned and put his forehead on his desk and closed his eyes. If I stay like this long enough, maybe they'll leave.

Fat chance. He thought bitterly.

"I'm really not good with this," Thirteen said uneasily. House didn't bother to look up at them. Apparently, Wilson knew what House needed better than he knew himself.

"Neither is he," Wilson's voice was encouraging.

"Don't." The one word was rough and angry, and he waited to hear the sound of his office door closing. When it didn't close, he looked up and met their eyes. "Please just go. I can't deal with any more of this. I'm fine, Wilson. I'm not going to do anything stupid. I need to get back to the patient."

"Are you sure you aren't going to do anything stupid?" Thirteen asked quietly. House looked at her and had to bite his tongue from lashing out at her. "You know what I did when I got diagnosed. If it weren't for you, I might have died."

House laughed bitterly and shook his head. "Don't play games with me. The only thing I did was fire you, and that was only to keep your career intact. You didn't quit what you were doing because of me."

"Some of the things you said to me stuck with me," she insisted, and House had nothing to say back. He didn't know her very well, so he couldn't argue. If she wanted to lie to him to make him feel better, it wasn't going to help. If she were telling the truth, it still didn't matter.

"You aren't alone here," Wilson half-pleaded, and House nodded.

"I know I'm not. But I want to be."

Wilson threw his hands up and walked into the outer office, rubbing his neck with his hand. House watched, slightly amused, then looked up at Thirteen. She was staring at him as if she'd never seen him before, and he hated it. Her reaction was the exact reason he didn't want anyone to know.

"Are you..dying?" She asked quietly, and moved stiffly to a chair in front of his desk. Without waiting for permission, she sat down and stared at him with wide eyes.

House shook his head slowly. "I don't think so. It's..treatable," he fumbled over what he was saying. He didn't know what to tell her.

"Then.." she trailed off and visibly steadied herself. "Then why are you so..upset? You're getting better, aren't you?" He heard the sorrow in her voice, and the unsaid words in her mind. She's right. She isn't going to get better, and she will die. Why am I so upset?

"Because I'm scared that I won't get better," he whispered and swallowed back a lump in his throat. He put his elbow on the armrest of his chair and put his forehead in his hand.

He heard her moving, but before he could stop her or do more than lift his head from his hand, she was on her knees in front of him with her hands on his thighs. A brief thought entered his head about her being on her knees, and he glanced up and saw Wilson standing in the office again. Wilson shook his head slightly as if to say don't you dare say it.

"It is okay to be depressed. But when you push everyone away who would try to help, it's hard to be understanding." She squeezed his thighs gently. He stared into her eyes, giving her his full attention. She had unshed tears in her eyes.

"There is no 'everyone'."

"I know a few people here who would do everything in their power to help you if you asked." Thirteen sat back slowly until her hands were resting on his knees. "I would help you if you asked."

House let out a shaky breath and nodded, keeping eye contact with her. He said softly, "thank you," and gave her a small smile. She smiled back and stood up, her movements slow and stiff. House looked away, giving her as much privacy as he could, not knowing if she would want him to know her disease was getting worse. Wasn't she better than this only two days ago? He met Wilson's eyes, suddenly uncomfortable. Wilson had watched the whole thing - had probably planned on it the moment he saw Thirteen sitting in the outer office - and House hated opening himself up in front of anyone, even Wilson.

"Thank you, Remy," Wilson quietly said as she walked by, giving her a warm smile. House stopped himself as he was about to roll his eyes.

"He saved my ass once," was all she said back.

House and Thirteen's pagers went off at that moment, and House thought, thank God, as he stood up to go to the patient who was coding. The last thing he wanted to do was have another conversation about himself with Wilson.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After seeing to his patient, House went back to his office with Thirteen, Taub and Kutner, and was relieved to see Wilson was gone. Foreman was sitting at the desk beside the white board, flipping through a patient's chart and a book simultaneously.

The doctors sat down around the table while House went to his board and hooked his cane over the top. He turned to them and opened his mouth to talk, then stopped when he met their eyes. He'd forgotten to put his beanie back on, and he could see dawning realization in at least one pair of eyes.

"So.." Taub leaned forward as he trailed off, clasping his hands on top of the desk. "Are you the patient Wilson lost a bet to?" When House gave him a confused look, he said, "the matching haircuts."

"Yes," House said flatly, and picked up his marker and uncapped it. "Differe-"

"How sick are you?" Foreman asked, cutting off what House was saying. He was leaning back in his chair casually, with a look on his face that said that he obviously didn't believe whatever game House and Wilson were trying to play.

"I'm not," House answered, avoiding Thirteen's penetrating stare. He'd outed her illness, and it would be understandable if she did the same to him.

Kutner looked from House to the rest of the team, then said, "this isn't our business, and we have three patients who are going to die if we don't diagnose them soon."

"Thanks," House turned back to the board and started to write 'lungs' when Taub spoke up again.

"What drugs does Wilson have you on?"

House hung his head in agitation, then turned back around to the team. "There's no reason you need to know that."

"Nope. I just wanted to see if he actually had you on something." Taub smirked and House sighed, scratching his forehead. Foreman was leaning forward in his seat now, curious.

"Okay." House looked up at them and took a steadying breath. "I'll say this once, and we won't talk about it again. You won't babble to everyone who is capable of hearing or communicating, and you won't make any references to it again." He waited until they nodded - all but Foreman, anyway - before continuing. "I have acute myelogenous leukemia. I'm done with chemo in 4 days. I am fine, I am not going to die, and that's all you need to know."

Before anyone had time to consider what he said, he started rambling off the symptoms the patient was showing and began writing on the board. Quickly, the team was focussed on work and not House, which he was thankful for, but he couldn't help but think, that wasn't so bad, as they worked together normally, without any sideways looks or concerned stares.

It wasn't until hours later - when he'd finally gotten all of his patients taken care of - that House realized the time, and that he'd gone most of the day without really thinking about his cancer. Wilson was sitting in House's office, and it was after 7. His entire body ached. The road rash he'd gotten on his left side was burning and he knew he could easily pass out standing up.

"Are you ready?" Wilson asked, stifling a yawn with his hand. House looked around his office, mentally checking off everything he had or wanted to leave behind, and nodded.

They were walking out of the elevator in the lobby when he coughed. He realized a moment later Wilson had stopped walking beside him, and he turned back and started to ask what he was stopping for when Wilson said, "how long have you had that cough?"

"I don't know. I haven't really noticed it until now," House said, and inwardly cringed as realization started to dawn on him.

"We should ... " Wilson trailed off, then shook his head. "Let's just keep an eye on it. You've had the flu. It could be nothing."

House nodded and followed Wilson out of the hospital, his mind racing. It can't be a tumor. I've been on chemo. I can't be getting worse.