Wow, four reviews for the last chapter. That was a bit below par. Hmm. Anyway, I had fun writing this chapter. Hooray for arguements!

I hate Clinic duty.

A middle-aged black-haired man was sitting on the examination table, looking as disgruntled as I felt. That rubber-ducky-murdering bastard had been on my mind all afternoon, and I was prepared to give him a piece of my mind. This was probably a bad time to talk to him, therefore, since it would make things worse.

"So, what's wrong with you?" I muttered, slapping my clipboard onto the counter with a satisfying smack.

He jumped at the loud noise, but then fell back into glaring at me. "That's your job to figure out."

"I can't figure anything out unless you tell me the symptoms, you idiot."

He crossed his arms and looked away petulantly.

I stewed in my own foul mood for three minutes more, and then grabbed the nurse call phone thingy. The thing that I talk into and the nurses do my bidding. Yeah, that. This move, just for the record, was a bad one, and I realize that now.

When I set the phone back down, the patient looked genuinely worried. "You're calling a consult? Is there anything wrong?"

"Yeah, my stupid patient won't let me examine him. Therefore, I can only assume the worst. I'm calling an oncologist, and I'll give you three guesses as to what that means," I snarled with gusto.

"Doesn't that mean… something about cancer?"

"You betcha." I watched his paling face with relish as we waited for Wilson to arrive. Really, really bad idea. Everyone knows that you can't have a proper arguement if you're mad.

Wilson arrived, looking pissed. Good, it's better to start on equal ground. He crossed the room to grab the other chair, set it in front of me with a crash, and sat down. "Fine, you've got me here. What is it?"

The patient (bloody fool that he was) started explaining himself. "I wouldn't let him examine me and now he thinks it's cancer-"

"What do you need?" he repeated, cutting the guy off.

"I know you want to avoid me and hope that this'll go away now, but it won't," I started, proud of how calm I managed to sound. "This isn't resolved, not really."

"It is resolved. Remember, we had a nice, long talk about it? Or was the oxygen pressure kind of blurring that out?"

"It's not resolved to my satisfaction."

"What the hell are you talking about? We're still friends, what more can you want?"

I gave him a Look. He turned away. "You don't realize how serious I am."

He took a slow breath, looking out the window. "I don't love you back." That hurt, a lot. Nothing less than expected, but still, I worked hard not to show it on my face. "But I love the friendship we have, so, please, can we keep it?"

I took a moment to think, even though I already knew the answer to that. "No, we can't. You know that you're my only friend, but I can't do it. I'm not so 'in control' of my emotions as you are."

"You think that this is control?" he said suddenly. "Do you really think that I'm ever going to be able to look you in the eye without remembering that you said you love me?"

I glowered at him for a moment. "I don't really need you to love me back. I just can't be around you all the time. There's no telling what I'll do."

"Do you really?" he whispered, looking like a kicked dog. "I don't have any friends, either. Do you really think that we can't just stay at this level?"

The patient, whom we had been utterly ignoring, was looking between the both of us with horror scrawled across his face. "What the hell is going on here? You guys are gay?"

I grimaced, and rounded on him instead. "You're impotent, and embarrassed about it. It's not prostate cancer or an STD, since you would have mentioned if you were peeing blood or having touch-and-go issues. Go get yourself some Viagra, alright? Just shove off."

He drew himself up, indignant. The effect was ruined by the paper gown the nurse had had him put on. "What are your names?"

"Dr. Cameron," I lied automatically.

Wilson's eyes narrowed as he said, "Gregory House."

I rolled my eyes. How childish. I stalked over to the door, and paused before leaving. "I might have been able to stay at the level we were about before, but it's not the same anymore."

"That doesn't-" I slammed the door behind me before I heard what he was going to say.

"So you're not friends anymore?" Cameron asked, after I had explained everything to her. As I shook my head slowly, she said, "This is bad."

"Tell me about it."

"Can you handle this? You've been around him all the time for the last ten years, and now that you know you love him, you're just going to stop?"

I groaned. "I'm socially retarded. Is that what you want to hear?"

"It's a start." She watched me, sitting in the chair, as I had my head on my arms. "So I'm your partner in crime now, right?"

"I guess so. Why, does it give you the warm and fuzzies to know that you're helping someone? We haven't had a case in a few weeks. I bet that razor at home is really mocking you for not doing anything saint-worthy."

"You know, I have no idea what you see in Wilson if you can't stand me. We both care about our patients."

"Well, yeah, but he's Jimmy. He puts up with everything. He can have an intelligent conversation. You have no idea what we've been through together."

"And you're the only one that loves the other."

"Yup." I grabbed my cane and knocked my forehead against the handle. "Pathetic, huh?" She was silent for a moment, and I looked over at her. "I don't like that look. You're going to say something that completely ruins my day more."

"You know how you lie about sensitive things?"

"Uh…yeah. I was there, I think." I mimed thinking, and continued, "At least most of the time…"

"How do you know that he didn't?"