"You're going to die," I stated plainly, popping an M&M in my mouth. Foreman's eyes grew wide with terror as his face creased with disbelief.

"What? No he's not," Cameron said indignantly.

"Duh," I replied in her general direction. "You're going to be fine. You'll have to take weekly injections of Monixiphan to manage the Gyan-Schett's and I would suggest finding a drinking buddy who can give an accurate history, but other than that, I expect you back at work on Wednesday," I finished with an eyebrow flick. Foreman pursed his lips and nodded shortly.

"You're a bastard," he added as I headed towards the door. Stopping, I turned and smiled.

"Yeah. I know."

"You didn't have to lie to him," Cameron spat as she pushed through the door into my office. Without looking up from my PSP, I rolled my eyes.

"Oh please. Are you going to tell me now that little Eric was horribly scarred and frightened by the big bad doctor? That he's tossing and turning, contemplating his not-so-near death experience?" I asked, looking up and starting slightly. Cameron was practically on top of me. Pushing out of my chair, I stood up to my full height, now effectively towering over her. "Yes?"

"He might have been scared, you don't know that."

"It's not that I don't know, it's more that I don't care."

"Yeah, I know. You make that painfully obvious," she whispered, crossing her arms. "Look, I'm just saying, you should be nicer."

"You're the second person who's told me that in two days and amazingly, I still don't care," I retorted, enunciating the last three words.

"Well you should. Just because you're miserable doesn't mean that..."

"Oh, will you give it up? I get so unbelievably tired of people thinking that they can read me, that I'm so transparent. I'm not tragic, I don't need to be saved, and I sure as hell don't need your critique. But, as long as we're talking about it, how is life, Dr. Cameron?"

Cameron mouthed wordlessly, taking a step back. I was about to get mean and she knew it.

"Still pining over your dead husband? Or did that cease when you realized you were in love with me? I'll bet he's turning over in his grave wherever he is right now. Stop crying," I declared coldly noticing the tears running down her cheeks. "Cut the angst, cut the crap, and grow up. People need a doctor, not a teenage girl crying over a lost boyfriend. You're too good for that."

My last words hung in the air, lugubriously settling to the ground with a thud.

"I hate you."

"I know."

"I mean it this time."

"So do I."

"Why?"

"Because, Cameron, you made me realize that I wasn't miserable. That I'm not miserable," I said quietly, looking down at the floor. "Get out." Nodding, Cameron turned and slipped from my office, crying silently, as I sat back down heavily, allowing my head to collapse forward.

"You didn't have to make her cry," Wilson said as he sat down in front of my desk. I snorted.

"You didn't have to be eavesdropping."

"It's part of my job," he said with a smile, crossing his legs.

"What job is that?"

"As your best friend I'm entitled to listen in on all self destructive conversations."

"Do all best friend's fuck nightly?" I asked, not in the mood to be coy. Rouging around his ears, Wilson coughed and nodded lopsidedly.

"I, um... I'm not sure. My guess is probably not."

"So, then I guess we're not best friends anymore."

"Then what are we? Lovers?" Wilson asked as the door to my office swung open.

"I can come back," Cuddy said, spinning on her heel without stopping and exiting the office as quickly as she had come, a blush tinting her cheeks. I smirked at Wilson, who was grinning, before shrugging.

"Call it whatever you want. The sex is amazing," I said as I stood and grabbed my book bag. "I'm going home."

"It's 4:45..."

"Close enough. Maybe I'll stop by and see Cuddy," I mused with a wink.

"Oh, that sounds promising."

"I'll see you at home," I called out easily.

"You know something?" Wilson asked, jogging to catch up with me. I nodded.

"I have three degrees. I know a lot of things."

"I was right. My philosophy was right."

"That I'm miserable enough to fall in love? You're reaching to call what we do being in love."

Wilson grinned. "Hey, I'll take what I can get." Stepping two more steps, Wilson was three inches from my face before he stopped. "You." Rolling my eyes, I pressed a burning kiss to his lips, completely aware of the hallway full of people watching.

"Whatever," I said, turning and stepping onto the elevator, his kiss still washing over my body. "Whatever," I said to myself.

Whatever.