AN: House is not mine. If he was...I won't even go there. It would be good. For me anyway. They belong to David Shore. He does an amazing job. I'm just a fan. This is my first attempt at a fanfic, please read and respond.

Last Chapter: "I know…I know. I just want him to take the case." She closed her eyes and spread her fingers across her forehead, breathing deeply.

"Okay Stacy. I'm…sorry." Cuddy didn't know why she said she was sorry. Maybe it was the fact that she complained about simple paperwork, while Stacy was caught between the health of her husband and the fear of the fire that burned between her and House. The fact that she had to face that again. It didn't seem fair or right, and yet, it was to be. She hung up the phone with a click. Realizing that she had been in a hurry to get home before, she left her office, the glass door swinging shut behind her.

----

"Differential diagnosis for a sleepy, skinny guy," mused House allowed as he walked into the room. Making his way to the coffee counter, he tossed a blue file on the table.

"Boring!" Announced Foreman, clearly uninterested in what the blue file contained. They had seen all of House's creative introductions to his cases. He easily discovered what House was saying and responded with his lack of interest. "He's probably just stressed. Give the guy a sleep aid and send him home."

"Doctors prescribed a sleep aid. Didn't work." House said, smirking at Foreman's look of confusion.

"Depression could cause lack of sleep, weight loss, weakness," stated Cameron. She had her hair knotted behind her neck, her eyes beaming out from beneath her bangs. She looked up at House from the table as he considered her diagnosis.

"I like it. Go talk to him. See if he's feelin' blue. Patient history is probably a good place to start." With that Cameron, Chase, and Foreman left the room to gather a patient history. On her way out Cameron grasped the file that House had tossed carelessly on the table. Walking down the hallway, she examined the papers. She stopped in her tracks and stared, dumbfounded, at the name printed on the top of the file.

"What?" questioned Chase, now noticing that Cameron was no longer beside them.

"It…there's…no. This must be a mistake," she stammered, looking up at them.

"Cameron, what is it?" Foreman insisted in an irritated sort of tone.

"This file…the name…it says Mark Warner."

----

"You've given us the wrong patient file," announced Cameron, marching into Cuddy's office.

Cuddy looked alarmed for a moment, before realizing what Cameron was talking about. Her expression softened, and Cameron noticed immediately. This wasn't the wrong file at all.

"He doesn't know! You've got to tell him. Haven't you learned anything from the other times that you lied to him?" Cameron's voice raced through her words as she screamed angrily at Cuddy. She was, of course, referring to the time that Cuddy and Wilson had lied to House about one of his patients. Cuddy had refused to let him use his treatment, said he needed to learn some humility. Then she had used his treatment behind his back, and it had worked. They didn't tell House, however, and it had affected him badly. Cameron could see no good coming from lying to him again.

"Cameron…listen. Stacy-" Cuddy began.

"No. Either you go up there and tell him right now, or I will. He doesn't deserve to have to go through this again." Cameron glared angrily at her, awaiting some sort of response.

Cuddy looked at Cameron, clearly surprised by her outburst. It wasn't the first time that the young Immunologist had chided her and Wilson about lying to House, but she had never seen her quite so angry about it before.

"You have feelings for him, don't you? That's why you are so angry…Stacy is here, and you thought she was finally out of your way. If House knows, maybe it's early enough that he will refuse to take the case. If he finds out too late though…it could be déjà vu all over again. Except this time, maybe he won't make her leave. Maybe you'll lose for real."

Cameron simply glared, for what seemed eternity. Finally, she spoke her departing words in a low, threatening tone. "You tell him today, or I will make sure he doesn't take Mark's case."

"And how do you plan to do that?" Cuddy asked, returning the same angry tone. By the time she had questioned, however, the glass door to her office had already swung shut. Cameron was storming angrily down the hallway toward the stairs.

----

"James?"

"Come in." Answered Oncologist James Wilson, looking up from his desk. "Stacy?" He stood up in surprise, and walked quickly around his desk and over to her. They embraced; a friendly gesture and way of greeting one another. "What are you doing here?" he questioned her curiously.

"I'm here because…Mark…Mark's sick again," she finished, hating to remind herself of Mark's illness. "I would have called you…but I didn't want you to say anything to Greg-".

"He doesn't know you're here!" Wilson exclaimed, almost angry.

"No…no I was afraid he wouldn't take the case." She admitted sheepishly.

"Oh Stacy…" Wilson ran a hand through his hair. "What are we going to do? You have to tell him."

"I know, I know…I just…I don't know how to face him again-"

"He's been screwed up since he sent you off, Stacy. He's not ready to see you again…I don't know if there is anything left of him to break."

Stacy lowered her head, clearly hurt by Wilson's words. He knew that he had been too harsh as soon as he had finished, but it was the truth. If House saw Stacy again now, would he be able to handle it? Wilson saw very little keeping him from limping off the roof of the hospital. "There's something you should know. He…he was shot, not long ago."

Stacy gasped immediately, watching Wilson's expression for some sign that he was lying…trying to trick her…something to tell her it wasn't true. When she saw nothing, she had to choke back tears that had welled up in her eyes. "Is he-".

"He's fine. Actually, for a while he was better than fine. Cuddy used Ketamine, that is, put him a chemically induced coma. It basically rebooted him, and it had erased his leg pain. He would run here, 8 miles…just because he could. It came back though…and now…now he's just like he always was. Cane and all."

"Who-".

"They don't know. They never found the guy. Maybe they never will."

Stacy ran her hand behind her neck nervously, glancing outside Wilson's window. "How do I tell him? I…I want to see him again…James. I really do."

"I don't know…I really don't."