House felt like he had been punched in the gut. Instantly, however, he recovered his usual manner and turned to look at the light board once more.

"Please, of course you're going to see cancer. This could be an abscess, or even scar tissue-"

Wilson's eyebrows raised.

"And you, Dr. Infectious Diseases, aren't going to be predisposed to see infection? My temperature is normal, so is my white count."

"Still, we should do more complete blood work and see-"

"House," Wilson cut him off, a trace of irritation in his voice now, "this is my specialty. Whatever else happens in our twisted version of a friendship, I always thought you trusted my judgment when it comes to what I do."

House stared at his friend, feeling blindsided once again. In the familiar brown eyes he could see the reflection of his own fear, but also saw the strength that few knew existed in the tame, calm, presence of James Wilson.

"You're the first person I call when I even suspect a patient has cancer. You think I do that because I don't trust your judgment?"

Wilson nodded, keeping his eyes on House's.

"Then you know what the next step is."

House closed his eyes for a moment, trying to avoid the inevitable truth he knew was coming.

"House," Wilson said, bringing House back to the present, "set up the biopsy."

House nodded jerkily, avoiding his friend's eyes. Turning towards the door, he made to open it.

"I'll find Foreman and ask-"

"Foreman's good," Wilson said, his voice now straining for composure, "Very good. I respect him, I trust him, I want him there. But I want you to do the biopsy."

House turned on his heel, looking into the brown eyes once more. Before House could say anything, however, Wilson continued.

"Don't you dare refuse, House. You can go, rant to Cuddy, torture your team, whatever you have to do. But don't come back here until you're ready to do this."

House stared at his best friend for several more moments. There was nothing on his face but determination. Without even being aware of the motion House opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. He stood there, leaning against the wall for what seemed an eternity.

Cuddy found House, still leaning against the wall just outside Wilson's room. She could see that something had happened, but wasn't sure House would want to talk. Still, she knew she had to do something.

Gently taking his arm, Cuddy led him to the waiting area that was directly adjacent to the hallway. House hardly seemed aware of her, or the fact that he was moving. Finally, however, they were both seated, House leaning his head on the top of his cane. Several more moments passed before Cuddy finally spoke.

"House," Cuddy said, trying to meet his eyes, "what happened?"

"Wilson, um-" House began, his voice hoarse, "thinks he may have cancer."

Saying the words made the entire situation real in a way House didn't expect. Turning to Cuddy, he was unsurprised at the shock on her face.

"He's an oncologist," House began, falling into his defensive manner yet again, "he's going to see cancer everywhere."

"House," Cuddy said, her voice taking on the clipped tone of the Dean of Medicine, "do you think I made Wilson head of Oncology because he's a fatalist or overdramatic?"

House did not answer.

"Wilson is good at what he does, House, you know that. If he thinks-"

"I can't do it!" House said, rising to his feet and beginning to pace. Cuddy watched as House reached into his pocket for his Vicodin. He threw several of the pills into his mouth and continued pacing, as if he simply didn't know in which direction to go.

"He-" House began, pointing at Wilson's room, "he wants me to do his biopsy."

Cuddy nodded, her face conveying her empathy, but it seemed lost on the older man.

"I just-" he said, taking a deep breath, "I have to convince him to let Foreman do it."

"Why?" Cuddy said, her voice challenging.

"Foreman's a neurologist, he can handle-"

"But he wants you. Why wouldn't you do this when you know it must be important to him?"

"He's just scared-"

"You're damn right he's scared. Right now he's a potential cancer patient who doesn't know what's going to happen to him. What he wants-what he needs-is for the people he trusts to be around him so that he knows he has the complete medical story."

"He just finished telling me how much he trusts Foreman-"

"What he also needs," Cuddy went on, "is for the people he loves to be around him, so that he knows he doesn't have to do this thing alone."

House fell back into the seat beside Cuddy, seemingly defeated. His shoulders hunched as if they suddenly bore a great weight.

"Damn it," he said softly, "why the hell am I the one Wilson loves?"

"Beats me," Cuddy said, standing and making her way to Wilson's room.

A/N: OK, another chapter I've kind of struggled over, so please review because as I said, I may be re-writing some of this story...