Cuddy walked quietly into Wilson's room, giving him the best encouraging smile she could muster. Wilson was sitting up, flipping absently through the latest issue of JAMA.

"Hi," he said when Cuddy had taken the seat next to his bed.

"I um, heard that you got some news about the seizure you had."

"Word travels fast," Wilson said, "this is a pretty small house," he said, emphasizing the last word pointedly.

Cuddy smiled, but sobered quickly.

"I found him standing outside. I'm sorry if this is something you wanted kept private-"

Wilson shook his head, placing his hand on Cuddy's.

"It's okay, really. I don't exactly want it broadcast, but I don't mind you knowing. You would have to know eventually."

Cuddy nodded, impressed at the strength she saw in the man in front of her.

"Don't worry about your patients," she said, "I'll see that they get referred for the time being."

"No," Wilson, said forcefully, "I don't even know exactly what I'm dealing with here, I'd rather not put everything on hold-"

"Hey," Cuddy said, cutting across him, "I'm still Dean of Medicine at this hospital and your boss. I'm telling you that you're on temporary leave until further notice."

Wilson looked at Cuddy, seeing the steely determination on her face that told him it would be no good to argue. Crossing his arms and putting on his best pout, Wilson sighed dramatically.

"I can't believe I'm grounded," he said, glancing at Cuddy once more, "you're a mean mom, you know that?"

"Get used to it," Cuddy said, smiling once more. Leaning back in the hard plastic chair Cuddy stretched, taking in the room in its entirety. Even this nondescript hospital room seemed to have Wilson's stamp on it already. The few items on the bedside table were just a little neater, the magazines and letters stacked perfectly. It was Wilson's attention to detail that made him such a good doctor, and what made Cuddy realize that he would be an excellent head of oncology. He had never let her down. It comforted her somewhat to know that what he was facing hadn't changed him.

As Cuddy's eyes found Wilson's form once more, the smile on her face slowly faded. Wilson's eyes were unfocused, staring at nothing in particular. There was a hardness to his face, a closed-off expression she was not used to seeing in her talented young department head.

"James?" she said quietly.

The sound of his name seemed to bring Wilson out of his reverie. As his eyes found Cuddy's, she could see the fear building in the warm brown eyes.

"I'm scared, Lisa," he said, smiling through the brutal honesty he was entrusting to the woman in front of him. "How ridiculous is that? I'm an oncologist who's afraid of cancer."

"You're not afraid of cancer," Cuddy said, her voice as reassuring as she could make it, "you're afraid of having cancer. I think you'd be foolish if you weren't scared."

Wilson said nothing.

"How many patients have you seen in your career, James? And how many of them weren't scared when you told them they had cancer?"

"But I'm not just an ordinary patient, I'm a doctor. A doctor who specializes in cancer for God's sake."

"So? Do you think that makes you so different from anyone else facing what you're facing?"

"It should," Wilson said, running his hands over his eyes and through his hair in exasperation.

"You've been spending too much time with House," Cuddy said sardonically.

Wilson smiled.

"Tell me about it," he said.

"Did you really ask him to do your biopsy?" Cuddy asked, now curious.

Wilson looked at Cuddy, nodding.

"Why?"

"Is he freaking out?" Wilson asked in return, eyebrows raising.

Cuddy nodded.

"Right on schedule," Wilson said, more to himself than to Cuddy.

"What do you mean?" Cuddy asked.

"House is uncomfortable with this whole thing already, and me asking him to do my biopsy is making him face something he doesn't want to."

"Which would be?"

"He's a doctor, he's seen death touch countless lives and families. But he's not close enough to anyone for it to really affect him. Except me."

"So why did you ask him?"

Wilson shook his head.

"I didn't ask him. I told him. I demanded it."

"Why?" Cuddy asked again.

Wilson locked eyes with Cuddy.

"Because I can't imagine trusting myself, my life, to anyone but my best friend. I owe that to him."

"I don't know if he sees it that way," Cuddy said, remembering her conversation with House earlier.

"He's just scared," Wilson said.

Cuddy stared at Wilson, stopped in her tracts.

"He said the exact same thing about you," she said.

Wilson nodded, shrugging.

"He knows me," Wilson said simply.

A/N: OK, before anyone asks, JAMA is the Journal of the American Medical Association. BTW, thanks for all the encouragment and thanks for reading, all...please review! Later, everybody!