House and Wilson were playing poker at Wilson's bedside, as usual. As usual House was winning, unaware of course that Wilson was letting him. Even though they were only playing for toll change, it was a matter of bragging rights. Wilson was more than willing to let House have those bragging rights, mostly because it bought him a lot of peace.
After what seemed a long time, and after many coins had changed hands, the intern who had Wilson's MRI and CT scans walked into his hospital room.
"Those the scans?" House said instantly, indicating the manila file in the newbie's hand.
"Yes, Dr. House. I was wondering if I could go over them with-"
"Let me get this straight," House said acidly, "you've been practicing medicine for about ten minutes and you want to 'go over' test results with the head of diagnostics and head of oncology who are sitting in front of you? Give me the scans already," he finished, holding out his hand impatiently.
"It's all right," Wilson said reassuringly to the now frightened young doctor, "you can just leave the scans with us."
Nodding nervously, the intern handed over the scans and turned on his heel, leaving as fast as his legs would carry him.
"You didn't have to scare the crap out of him, House," Wilson said, although he seemed amused nonetheless.
"I'm developing a new treatment for the rare but deadly disease I've discovered; idiot doctor syndrome," House replied as he removed the scans from the folder.
Attaching the scans to the light board next to Wilson's bed, House flicked on the light as Wilson turned on his side to get a better look. As the seconds passed, House's eyes flicked over the scans, his unique brain working furiously to explain what was in front of him even though he knew, deep down, that there was no mystery to explain.
Greg House loved the puzzle, he needed the mystery, and he especially needed to see the puzzle now because if there was a riddle, it could be solved. If there was a puzzle, he could figure things out, fix it, put the broken pieces back together. His best friend was ill, and he had to know why so that he could help to make him all right again. He simply did not know how to handle the alternative. As he stood there, hesitating, House heard the last sound he would have expected to hear at that moment; laughter. It was Wilson's laughter, but there was no mirth in it, only bitterness.
House turned to his best friend, wondering at his reaction.
"What the hell are you laughing at?" House asked.
"I'm sorry, House," the younger man said, his voice holding a very Wilson-like spirit, despite the situation, "it's just too ironic. The wonder-boy oncologist has cancer."
A/N: OK, I've spent a few days with this chapter because, clearly, it's an important one, so please review, because I'm considering re-writing it and I'd love some second (and third, and fourth) opinions...later, all!