Disclaimer: As much as I adore Jimmy Wilson, I do not own him or any aspect of House. I'm going to go cry now.

A/N: This chapter came out kinda long, and Chapter 4 will be short, but they broke naturally. Forgive me for the inconsistency, please.

Chapter 3

"We're still going to do the biopsy, but do it carefully," House says, standing in front of and scrutinizing the whiteboard like there's something he's missed. Cameron wishes there was. "Two seizures in a day and a half. In case you were wondering, that's not good."

"No, really?" Foreman rolls his eyes.

Cameron leans her chin on her hand and studies her boss. "How's he doing now?"

House shrugs. "Great for having brain cancer."

She stares at him, mouth opening and closing a couple times in rapid succession. She's never doubted he's a cold, unfeeling bastard but to be so nonchalant, almost joking, about Wilson's illness…. She gets up and walks out without so much as a word, before he can see the tears in her eyes and target her for them.

"He's in rare form, isn't he?" It isn't until she's walked past Wilson's office that she realizes the ex-Mrs. Wilson is standing just down the hall.

Cameron blinks. She's been introduced to Julie, seen her a couple times at hospital events, but the woman's never spoken to her before. There's something in her voice and Cameron decides she might prefer Julie continued not speaking to her. "Well, I wouldn't really call it rare, per se. But yeah."

"He loves James. I think James might be the only person he's ever loved, aside from Stacy. Different ways, but… the emotion is remarkably similar." She pauses. "Though I'm fairly sure that Greg is the only person James has ever loved. In any way."

"You make it sound like it's his fault that you had an affair." House was right; Cuddy shouldn't have called Julie.

"It was both our faults. I never really believed that there was a limit on how much a person could care. But James cared so much for his patients, for Greg, for all of you, that I never really felt like he had anything left for me."

"And you cared so much for your boyfriend you never had anything left for your husband. Sorry, but I'm really struggling to feel sympathy for you. I'm trying, but it's just not working."

Wilson's third wife raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "You've learned from Greg, I see. That biting wit cuts a little. Be careful you don't cut yourself with it. Like Greg did." She turns to walk away and Cameron, bewildered, calls to her.

"Why did you come up here?"

Julie turns back. "My ex-husband was asking for you. I think he needs a shoulder to cry on."

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Wilson doesn't take his eyes off the ceiling as the door opens. "Julie said you wanted to see me?" Cameron closes the door and crosses to his bedside, brushing her fingertips over his forehead. It's a more intimate gesture than he's seen her use with normal patients, but he doesn't mind.

"I… don't remember." He remembers Julie being there; he doesn't remember when she left or why. He has a vague recollection of anger, but that might just be his own.

"She said you might need a shoulder to cry on." Her hand moves to his, squeezing it lightly.

He studies her. Cameron's eyes are just as expressive as House's, but in a different way. He hasn't learned to read them yet but he can tell there's something she's holding back. "From the look on your face that's not all she said."

Her lips part in a rueful smile. "No, it's not. House was being a bastard."

"I hope that's not supposed to be something out of the ordinary. If it is, there's more wrong with my brain than we think."

"I should have added 'as always.'"

"You should have. Remember, I'm easily confused now." He's smiling.

"No you're not. Though there are probably people in the hospital who wish you would be."

"Probably." Undeniably.

"Anyway, he was being a bastard and she started talking about how he loves you, and you're the only person other than Stacy that he's probably ever loved." She hesitates, and he notices. He can guess why; it isn't hard.

He and Julie have had the very conversation he suspects Cameron was subjected to, many times over. "And from there it went into something about my inability to love, I'm sure."

"Yeah." Cameron tugs uncomfortably at her hair and when she speaks again her voice is even softer. "She said House is the only person you've ever loved, that you cared so much for him and your patients and other people that she didn't feel like you had anything left for her. I told her that I couldn't be too sympathetic because it seemed like she cared so much for her boyfriend she had nothing left for you."

Wilson laughs until he starts coughing. "House would be proud."

Cameron pours him a cup of room-temperature water and smirks. "Yeah, Julie told me to be careful not to cut myself on my biting wit like House did."

"I don't know what her problem is. I'm sorry, Cameron."

"She's not your wife anymore; you don't have to apologize for her."

"Well, it was probably something I said that put her in a lousy mood, and you were just the most convenient target."

"Don't. She was fine until I told her off." She reaches up, smoothing the same unruly lock of hair off his forehead. "You didn't talk to House, did you?"

"We talked; he gave me a seizure." Not the answer she was looking for, no doubt.

"He does have that effect sometimes, doesn't he?"

"More often than not. He was… he was looking for me to cry on his shoulder or scream at him or I don't know what. He thinks I should be angry."

"You should be. If you aren't, then you really ought to talk to someone."

He barks a bitter laugh. "Trust me, I'm angry. I don't drink… much. Certain times in my life more than others." He can make out just the slightest stutter to his words and wonders if it's the tumor or the pain that's causing it. "I don't smoke or use any kind of drugs. I tried to kill myself once, years ago." It's a lie, but she doesn't need to know that. "I eat right. I exercise. I'm not evil…" That elicits a small laugh from his visitor. "I'd like to think I'm a pretty decent person. But… I'll be dead in a year. For no reason at all."

He closes his eyes and squeezes her hand, tightly. "Of all people, I should have come in sooner."

"We should have noticed, too." Cameron closes her eyes, blinking against tears. A few slip down her cheeks and, at the sight of them, his own self-control cracks. The tears he'd managed to hold back behind a slowly crumbling wall when House was in the room finally overflow.

Cameron moves to sit on the edge of the bed, leans over and wraps her arms around him. He sobs into her shoulder, his body shaking violently. He is angry; there's only one other time in his life he's been this angry.

The day he came back from California to find House changed, forever.

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It's House who drags Cameron out of Wilson's room so Foreman and Chase can perform the biopsy.

"He talk to you?" he asks her gruffly.

She hesitates; he won't be pleased. But maybe if he wasn't such an ass… "He said you gave him a seizure."

He looks stunned for a moment, then his mind must register that she's teasing, because his expression returns to its default scowl.

They walk toward Diagnostics, side by side. "He is angry, and he's in a lot of pain. But I think he feels like, even now, he has to be strong for you. He's been doing it so long; it's so ingrained in him that it's just a part of who he is that he can't escape no matter how much he needs to."

"Just so long as he talks to someone." House starts to walk faster and she stops, incredulous, and stares at his back.

"You are just as bad!" Her voice is louder than she'd intended it to be and not a few people stop and give her curious looks. Must have been louder than she'd thought; most people don't pay House, or the rest of the Diagnostic Department, any attention at all anymore.

He stops short, whether at her words or her tone she doesn't know, but doesn't turn right away. "What?"

"You don't want him to talk to someone. You want him to talk to you, and it kills you that he won't."

At that, he turns to face her. "Stop psychoanalyzing me. Many minds far surpassing yours have tried to penetrate this thick skull and been forever traumatized by what they saw. Including Wilson. Go shrink his brain." He winces visibly, most likely at his choice of words. "Damn it."

"If you want him to let you in, you have to let him in. Tell him how much it hurts."

"I did let him in. Six years ago I let him in. I let him in more than anyone else I've ever known. Including Stacy."

"Well, obviously, he doesn't feel he can completely open up with you. One of you has to be the first to give. Are you really going to make it be him? He'll die before that happens. He won't subject himself to your ridicule unless you prove to him that you actually want to listen."

"Yes, he will."

"No he won't."

"If you think you know him better than me--"

"He just spent an hour crying in my arms. I may not know him better than you, but I do know what's going through his head now. You don't. You have to talk to him. You have to talkto him. Not try to make him talk to you."

"And say what?"

Is he actually asking her for advice? She might have to write this down… rather, paint it on the wall somewhere everyone will see. "Tell him the truth. Tell him you're scared for him, that it's going to hurt you to lose him. Tell him you're taking too many pills because you can't deal with what's happening to him. Open up. Tell him you love him." She hesitates. "Tell him you'll cry when he dies."

There's a strange… uncertainty… in his eyes. "I don't know if I will."

"Then lie to him."

Something in her gaze must make him uncomfortable and he changes the subject. "What did Julie want?"

"She was just being jealous."

"Of who?"

"Everyone that Wilson's ever cared about," she replies dryly. "She said he cared so much for everyone else that he couldn't care about her."

"Oh, boo hoo. All she cared about was getting an illicit piece of ass from."

"That's what I told her; I don't think she appreciated it." The look he gives her is half disbelief, half grudging approval. "She came up because Wilson apparently asked for me to come down."

He frowns. "Apparently?"

"Yeah. He didn't remember by the time I got there that he'd asked for me."

"Still the intermittent memory problems."

"Yeah." She winces. "Not really getting better or worse."

"Interesting." He starts walking again and she doesn't bother following.