Disclaimer: these characters are the property of Fox network and David Shore.

A/N: I want to get at the core of Wilson. He's a mystery to me. What is the appeal of his friendship with House? How does the world's nicest man go through three marriages and how does he justify the implied adultery in his marriages? So I am experimenting it with it. I hope you are interested enough to follow me through this process.

Thanks to the incomparable Marlou. She is a great beta. Sometimes, I do a little editing after she works on it, and so any mistakes you find are my goofs.

Love to hear from you.

Sheila

Heart Cancer

Chapter 3

Cuddy walked in while House was doing diagnostic differentials with his team. From a distance he could tell she knew. He had convinced Wilson to do it first thing Monday morning, and it was clear he followed through. She was wearing her lab coat and had it wrapped tightly around herself as if she was cold. But there was something else, she looked defeated and sad, something he had never seen her wear before. Without a word she took a seat at the back of the room. House struggled to refocus on Chase who was doing a rundown on their current case.

"Steroids have worked beautifully, and I would conclude that it was asthma if not for the fevers and swollen joints."

House screwed up his face, "You're going about this wrong. You suspected asthma even though all of the symptoms didn't fit, you treated it, and it improved. Accident? Or did you unwittingly stumble onto the answer?"

Foreman leaned forward. "Asthma doesn't give you fevers."

House rolled his eyes. "Where did this woman spend the last year of her life?"

"Ecuador, South America." Cameron sat up in her chair.

"What does that tell us? Come on. Think, people!"

Cameron gripped her pen tightly. "A new place. New and different viruses and bacterias. She was sick most of this last year."

House pointed at her. "Yes, Cameron actually got out of bed and came to work. When are the rest of you going to show up?"

"Viruses," Eric licked his lips. "She might have developed her asthma there; exposure to bronchial and lung infections."

"And her fevers. This could be a casserole of different conditions." Cameron was on her feet and pacing.

"Then why is she still sick? She's been home a month already," Chase persisted.

With an exaggerated gesture, House put a finger on his chin and looked skyward. "Hmmmm! Her body has been attacked from all sides for a long time. What do we know about that? How do our bodies respond after prolonged exposure to different pathogens?"

There was a brief silence as his team looked at each other. It gave time for House to sneak another peek at Cuddy. She seemed lost in thought, and, for the first time, he saw that her eyes were blurry and red. He took in a deep breath. Cuddy was a warrior, always fighting, always working. And yet, she sat there looking small, even fragile; looking like a lost girl. House had no experience with this Cuddy, and it hit him that Wilson's cancer was going to leave a lot of people looking like this.

"House, did you hear what Cameron said?" Foreman asked.

Blinking, House turned his head toward them. "So give me something already. Quit acting like a bunch of dullards."

Cameron spoke up, "She has a reactive arthiritis. The asthma weakened her and, with the other infections, her immune system became confused and attacked itself."

House allowed himself a small smile. "Cameron goes home with a gold star today."

"What's the treatment?" asked Foreman.

Cameron turned to him. "We continue with the prednisone and the neb treatments. As her body strengthens, her immune system will relax and her joints will loosen up again. She'll probably be stiff for another month or so, but then she'll be just fine."

"I'll go tell her." Chase got up.

House shook his head, "Not so fast. We have another case."

Cameron looked around. Cases almost never came from House himself, and no one in the room had presented with a file. "No, we don't."

House looked at Lisa Cuddy who couldn't meet his eyes. "Yes, we do. Sit down. The asthmatic woman can wait. A couple of days and she's going home with nothing more exciting than a story for the grandkids."

Warily, Chase and Cameron reseated themselves. House erased the board and started writing. "Male, aged 39, healthy with the exception of a brain tumor lodged in the temporal lobe of his brain. It is two millimeters too large for surgery at this time-"

Chase interrupted, "So, we think that the tumor is something other than cancer, right?"

"No," House put the head CT under the lights and clipped it. "I've spent the last day and a half looking at it and there's a biopsy for confirmation. It's cancer, no doubt about it."

The glass door opened and James Wilson walked into the room in his white lab coat and leaned on a bookcase at the back of the room. House stopped for a moment and looked at the floor. Then he let out a sigh, and continued, "First course of treatment will be three weeks of chemo at high doses, really high doses. Then, hopefully, the tumor can be removed through surgery."

Foreman got up and wandered over to the film. "Looks bad. You think he's got a chance?"

House ignored him, and found that there wasn't a pair of eyes in the room that he could meet in that moment.

"I don't get it," Chase said. "We're diagnosticians not oncologists. Why do we care about this?"

"He's got a point," Wilson sounded, his hands buried deep in his coat pocket.

"Yeah," Chase continued. "This is not what we do."

"It is now." Cuddy spoke up and heads swiveled in her direction as if people hadn't remembered she was there. She looked at Wilson with a ferocity that reminded House of who she was.

"We're changing for this case. We're going to put all of our resources into saving this patient. We are going to research every tumor of this type presenting in the world. We are going to become experts on the treatments for this tumor, the surgical procedures; everything there is to know, we're going to know it." House thrust his cane in the air at this last statement.

"Isn't this sort of Wilson's territory?" Cameron looked troubled.

Wilson pressed at his temples. "That's what I said."

Cuddy stood up. "We're putting all of the hospital's resources into this case. Whatever you need, House." She rubbed at the bridge of her nose.

"Right. Beating cancer is just a matter of resources. Throw enough money at it, and everything will be fine." Wilson looked away from Cameron who seemed puzzled by his sarcasm.

"Aren't you supposed to be somewhere?" House barked.

"I rescheduled for tomorrow."

House slammed his cane down on the table. "This is your priority!"

"I have 36 patients who would say otherwise!" Wilson shouted back.

"It doesn't matter. Your case is being transferred here," Cuddy said, smoothing her skirt and tossing her hair back with a defiant look on her face.

"I don't think so," Wilson countered.

"It's Wilson's case?" Foreman looked at the doctors around him.

"Then why isn't Wilson in charge of it?" Chase added.

"Because it's Wilson, you moron!" House threw his cane down on the floor and dropped into a chair. Silence fell. Cuddy folded her arms across her chest and glared at House.

Cameron walked up to the brain CT and studied it. She shook her head, and turned to Wilson, "This is you?"

Wilson glared at House. "Remember when I talked to you about not turning this into a circus."

House shrugged and looked away. Foreman and Chase approached the film again and looked it over. Wilson rubbed angrily at his forehead.

"Does your head hurt?" Cameron asked.

"It's probably not the cancer," House mumbled. "He's spent the last two nights trying to pickle the tumor with whiskey."

"Does it matter? It hurts like hell." Wilson strode across the room and picked up House's Vicodin, popping two in his mouth before anyone could say anything.

House whistled through his teeth. "You just took double the dose, buddy. Don't you remember you changed me to the 20 mg. pills a month ago?"

"Shit!" Wilson grabbed a trashcan and tried to bring the pills up. After some gagging, he sank down into the chair behind House's desk.

House retrieved his cane from the floor and hobbled over to his friend. "Worst case scenario you're going to get some decent rest before your first chemo treatment."

Wilson didn't acknowledge him. He sat there looking down at the floor, his hands holding his head. Cuddy walked over and put her hand on his shoulder. "James, I've known you for eight years. You are a gift to this hospital. The day Vogler voted you off the board was the day I knew that I couldn't back down until he was gone. You're my friend, and you're the best doctor I know. We need to do this with you. You would be the same if it was one of us. I'm too stubborn to let you die and House is too mean. We can beat this together."

Wilson sighed and looked up. "I make decisions about my life. I am still going to work. I'm still going to see patients. If I need you to back off, then you do it. Understand? And more than anything, you have to let this play itself out. I am not going to be a pincushion for every internet cure you come upon. If we can treat it, we will. If not, I will not be spending the rest of my life clutching at straws."

The room was silent until Chase spoke. "In order to do this, we need to know everything that you know. We need you to teach us about this tumor. We need to know how much chemo you're getting. We need to learn it all."

Wilson smiled at his youthful enthusiasm. "It would take years."

Foreman spoke up. "We don't need years. We work for House. We're combat trained. Give us the basics and we'll take it from there."

"It's impossible."

"Good," Cameron smiled. "We specialize in that."

House couldn't look up from the ground. They were going to be everything he needed them to be, and he had no way of properly expressing his gratitude. He cleared his throat and looked away.

Cuddy clapped her hands. "Okay, people. We have work to do. James, I am getting privileges for your oncologist at this hospital. You're being treated here." He started to protest but she put a hand up. "Don't fight with me on this. We have better facilities and better staff; it seems our head of oncology has built a really strong department. Plus it's more convenient for your practice. No arguments. House, you and your team are off clinic duty until this is over. I want you on this 24/7, understand?"

House recovered quickly. "No clinic duty! When this is over, one of you other bozos better come down with something serious 'cause I'm liking this."

Cuddy smiled and rolled her eyes in spite of herself. Wilson sighed and looked over at her. "You realize getting Henderson to come over here for appointments is not going to happen. He's as busy as I am."

She made a face at him. "Bill Henderson! He's not going to be a problem. We go way back. I'll have him eating out of my hand."

"Ah, he is married."

"He's a good oncologist but an idiot with women. Follows me around like a little puppy every time I see him at a conference. He tells me we have a special connection, and only because he would be a great asset to this hospital, do I not laugh in his face. Believe me, I have this covered." Cuddy winked at Wilson and turned to leave.

"You are a devious woman, Cuddy. We men are merely pawns in the chess game you call life." Cuddy ignored him and kept going. House called after her. "Want some advice? Wear the grey worsted with the neckline that never stops."

Then he turned to his team. "What! You're just sitting there. Work!" Then he pointed at Wilson. "And you are going to stop sabotaging your treatment. You sleep tonight and tomorrow you start. If you mess with your treament in even the most minute manner, I will start the rumor that you steal women's undies from the locker room and prance around in them at home."

Wilson snorted, "You tried that rumor five years ago after Stacy left and I was accused of aiding and abetting her. If you remember, the rumor never caught on because no one was actually missing their panties." He got up, nodded at the team, and sauntered out of the room.

House yelled after him, "Yeah, well this time I'm sending Chase and Foreman in to break open lockers and steal them."

Chase's eyes widened, and Foreman looked up at the ceiling, no doubt imagining how many opportunities he gave up for this job.

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

He had been nice forever. From the time he was a little boy, he had been a pleasant, well socialized child. He never missed school, always had A's, and get along with everyone. He navigated his adolescence and maintained good relationships with his parents all at the same time. In college, he was quiet but well liked; always had buddies, always had girlfriends.

He was the smart one. He studied hard for it, but the other med students did too. Somehow though, he was able to make the connections more quickly than his peers. And when he became an intern, he discovered he had a natural ease around illness. He wasn't sympathetic as much as empathetic. He believed in happiness, and it mattered to him that the people around him had their chance to live full lives. His fellow students should have hated him for all this, but they didn't; he was too nice to engender such antipathy.

Oncology is an interesting choice for anyone, but it was the right kind of challenge for him. Cancer was a worthy enemy, and the constant fight to beat it left him fulfilled. So on the outside, he had it all; good looks, brains, a job he loved, money, and women.

Now he was sitting on the other side, chemo dripping into his arm, nurses peeking in on him with sympathetic looks and smiles. His wife was gone, and he was about to lose control of his life. He felt like a freak show, and it was all he could do to maintain his demeanor.

The curtain opened again, and this time a large cinnamon face poked through. He blinked in surprise. "Hi Melvine, I didn't think you worked the oncology clinic anymore."

The woman walked in and checked his line. "They bring me back for the special cases."

Wilson chuckled. "They bring you back for the difficult cases. How did I end up in that category?"

"You're a doctor with cancer. You people are always difficult. You act like you don't have to follow the rules."

"So you're here to keep me from doing what?"

She grabbed a wrist for a pulse, talking as she listened. "I'm here so you don't treat your drip like a channel changer. I'm here to keep you in that seat for every minute you are scheduled to be here."

Wilson's eyebrows rose. "And you don't think I don't know how important all of that is."

She smiled at him. "Doctors think they know too much, and that means you. Doctors are lousy patients."

He nodded. She was right. He never had a medical professional as a patient who he didn't feel like pushing off his office balcony. They knew just enough to be dangerous to their own treatment. "So they brought in the big gun then."

"I called and asked for a transfer out of OB/GYN."

"Really?"

"You don't remember my aunt Ida?" She peered at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Of course, she had esophageal cancer. She's been cancer free going on 3 years, right? How is she?"

"She's good. And I know if I talk to aunt Ida as I do every Sunday and tell her that her favorite doctor is sick with cancer, she is going to want to know what I'm going to do about it. And I need to have an answer for her."

"Her cancer was very curable. I didn't do anything that special."

Melvine chuckled. "Aunt Ida remembers the Tuskegee experiments. The fact that she was willing to come to see you on a monthly basis for a year and feel confident that her white doctor was doing everything he could; well, that means something. So now you got me watching after you. What are you going to do about it?"

Wilson shrugged. "I guess I'm just going to have to put up with aunt Ida's goon."

"What did you say?" She glared.

"Ah, ah, I mean, ah, I didn't mean…"

She started laughing at him and then shook her head. "White people."

Wilson smiled weakly.

"I got one rule. You keep that beanpole of a cripple out of my way. I have seen how he treats people, and I am not having it. Do you understand?"

He nodded, not having a clue that he had any other choice in the matter.

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

House found him doubled up behind his desk clutching his garbage can. He was shaking, and his face was wet with sweat.

"Time to get you home." House tapped his back with his cane.

James painfully raised his pounding head. "One more patient and I'll go."

"You're kidding," House scowled down at him.

"No where else to fit her into the schedule. Tonight's the only night. It'll take an hour. I'll take a cab." Another wave of nausea hit and he squeezed his eyes shut.

House snorted, "She'll take one look at you, and figure she has a better chance with the kook selling cancer pills on the back page of the National Enquirer."

Wilson pulled himself upright, and with an unsteady gait, he headed for the bathroom. He leaned against the doorframe for a moment, and then lunged for the toilet. House rolled his eyes and picked up the phone and dialed, "Brenda, you have a woman in the lobby waiting for Wilson?...Okay, tell her that Wilson can't see her. Set her up with the new oncologist that Wilson brought on a couple of months ago….Hell, I don't know. Wilson is trying to bring up his intestines right now, and isn't really capable of instilling confidence in any kind of patient…Yeah, just do it. And tomorrow, the same thing, no appointments after 4:00…Oh, can you have someone trot up here with some compazine. Shedding internal organs through the esophagus can't be good for a person."

He turned to find Wilson sitting on the floor looking up at him, shaking his head. "I already have a mother. You can't run my life like this."

"I'm your doctor. You're just the idiot assigned to my care. You say one more thing, and I'll bring Cuddy up here. We'll see how many patients you get to see after she gets a look at you. Come on. I got the Nets on widescreen. I'm having pizza and beer, and you're going to have strawberry jello and 7-up. It'll be a party."

Wilson couldn't even muster a dirty look. It was all he could do to get on his feet and follow his friend out the door.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

TBC