Title: Succumb (13?)
Author: Teenwitch
Summary: We have to succumb to the feelings we can never face.

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As soon as Wilson entered the Diagnostics office that morning, he knew House was in one of his moods.

His bad temper tended to have a ripple effect on all those around him. Chase and Foreman were immersed in silence, alternatively consulting the patient file between them and contemplating their latest diagnosis on the whiteboard. Hudson sat at the end of the table with a mug of coffee; one arm slung over the back of his chair. His expression was highly disgruntled and it wasn't difficult to guess why. Hudson usually took the brunt of House's insults on a good day, let alone a bad one.

The blinds were closed, firmly cutting off his office from any outside light, and the unmistakable thrum of some indiscernible band echoed through the glass.

And Cameron was conveniently missing.

She had been present for their briefings for most of the week, and she was an active participant in the Clark girl's case, assisting the team in any way she could. Something must have happened to account for her absence, and it wasn't hard to jump to several logical conclusions.

"Morning," Wilson finally acknowledged, wandering slowly into the room.

All three men looked up, stoically nodding their greetings.

"I wouldn't go in there," Foreman advised, as Wilson started for the adjoining door. "Not if you value your life."

Wilson pursed his lips, coming to a stop at the edge of the table. He crossed his arms over his lab coat, grazing his penholder with his hand. "Any idea what the problem is?"

Chase lifted his eyebrows, leaning back in his chair. "You think he would tell us?" he asked disbelievingly. "If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say it was a Cameron thing."

So they were in agreement there. Wilson sighed heavily, glancing at the door again. "Any idea where she is?"

They all shook their heads.

"Okay," he said resignedly, and steeled himself for House's office.

"If he's screwed up the only shot we have at getting Cameron back, I swear to God I'll break his other leg," he heard Foreman mutter on his way.

Thankful the Diagnostician wasn't privy to that particular threat, Wilson edged gingerly into the room. House sat behind his desk, tossing his oversized red tennis ball idly in the air as 'We Will Rock You' blasted from his iPod speakers. Wilson winced, closing the door behind him, crossing the room to turn down the volume.

"Splitting your eardrums is a fairly teenage response, don't you think?" he quizzed abruptly, tapping a finger on House's desk.

House turned in his chair, regarding him emotionlessly. "And what am I responding to, Dr. Freud?"

Wilson sighed, slumping in the armchair in the corner of his office. Tact was definitely a non-requirement around House. It was an adjustment he found particularly difficult, after a day full of cancer patients. "Cameron isn't here today."

House lifted an eyebrow, feigning amusement at his expense. "Well gosh, better report it to the Principal."

Wilson shook his head, seeing through him easily. "What did you do?"

House frowned faintly, tapping his cane on the edge of the desk. "I'm insulted. I hope you have something to back up that allegation. That's slander, Jimmy."

"Please. Come on. What did you do?"

"What makes you think I did anything?"

"Because on many occasions, you can be a real ass. I'm assuming this is one of them."

House leant his head back on his chair, lobbing the ball carelessly in the air and keeping his eyes fixed on it as it sailed towards the ceiling. "I appreciate the vote of confidence."

"House."

The ball stopped, dropping back into his palm. House didn't look up, studying it as if the minute stitching held the answers to the universe. He appeared to be weighing up the negatives of a share session. "I stayed late last night", he muttered at last. He kept it brief. "Cameron showed up."

"Ah." Wilson could guess the rest, judging from his friend's expression. He scoffed openly. "Well, it's good to know that you can be an adult when it's needed."

House turned his head, fixing Wilson with a withering stare. For the first time Wilson realised how utterly tired he looked, from the slump in his shoulders down to the black rings around his eyes— even more pronounced than usual. He obviously hadn't slept that night.

"Actually, you'll be happy to know this is one scenario in which I am completely innocent", House snarked. "I didn't do anything. She did. She's the one who left."

Wilson shifted in his chair, overcome with surprise and sympathy. He knew the best thing would be to hide it. If there was one thing House abhorred, it was that. "I'm… sorry", he said carefully. "I didn't know."

"Why would you? That's my routine, right?" House tossed the ball in the air again, coolly watching its progress.

Wilson joined his hands on his knee, contemplating House warily. They were treading in very sensitive territory now. It was a feat of massive proportions to get House to even open up about his feelings. Eliciting more out of him would be a challenge, and he decided to pursue it cautiously. "So what exactly do you… want from her?"

House glanced at him sharply, looking more than a little annoyed. He clearly interpreted it as disloyalty. "Is this the big brother routine again? Because I already got that from Foreman."

Wilson wanted to roll his eyes. The man was a genius, but he really was as emotionally immature as they got.

"Well, on the vulnerability scale, I think she has you beat just a little bit", Wilson reminded him caustically. "She has a child. You can't expect her to risk herself when someone else is involved."

House swivelled his chair towards the wall. "What makes you think I want her to risk anything?"

Wilson smiled sadly. "You are such a hypocrite, House."

House lifted his eyebrows at this statement, chuckling sarcastically. "Moi? Well, I've been called many things in my time-- most of them involving really big swear words-- but that's a new one. Frankly I'm shocked."

"You abhor liars, but it's okay to lie to yourself?"

Rolling the ball across his desk, House kept his gaze planted on the wall. Wilson could still see his imminent scowl. "How very Oprah of you."

The oncologist shrugged lightly. "Julie's a big fan."

"Yeah, I bet you're an honorary member of her book club, too."

Wilson sighed. He could see House was attempting to distract him with banter – and it usually worked. Neither of them was particularly interested in sharing their feelings on a regular basis. It wasn't how their relationship worked. But when it came up, Wilson was generally the initiator, and House treated it as he would any other attempt—with a scathing retort on the tip of his tongue. There were times Wilson found the entire process completely exhausting.

"Look, I know this is going to be hard for you, but I'm going to give you some advice here."

House scoffed. "Am I wearing a flashing red sign lately?"

"No, but for some strange reason, Cameron seems to instil loyalty in people, and they're willing to subject themselves to you because of it", he retorted flatly. "If you're… serious about anything with her, then she needs to know. Reassurance isn't exactly your strong suit."

"It was a mistake," House said shortly, turning around in his chair until his back was facing Wilson. It was a clear sign of dismissal. "Don't go writing songs about it."

"Yeah," Wilson muttered. "Right."

Nevertheless, he rose to his feet, starting wearily for the door. His moral guidance hadn't made so much as a dent in House's armour for the last eleven years of their friendship. He didn't really expect it to start making an impact now.

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