The news Dr Gupta had to give was the worst possible. The only marginally good side was that the patient was an oncologist and his spouse a diagnostician: he wouldn't need to say much. This would be most likely their last meeting - and the patient's last day outside New Jersey. He was always upset by conversations like the coming one, and since he was an oncologist specialized in pancreatic cancer, they happened depressively often. He sighed briefly, reviewing his notes once again. His secretary's voice buzzed over the intercom: "James Wilson and spouse, 10am appointment, coming."

"House, I don't want to wait too long."

"Are you in pain? We can raise the morphine limit, you know. You're nowhere near maxing out."

"I know. I'm an oncologist, remember? And I don't want to go on until I need to max out on morphine. I want to go while I'm still able to enjoy life. I want to die less than 24 hours after having sex with you."

"I didn't know I was so good."

"One gets used to anything with time. Anyway, we need to make plans."

"The cocktail is ready whenever you want it, of course. It has been since your first recurrence. I think we should at least wait until everybody has had a chance to say goodbye."

"A few days won't matter, I think I might even want to see my parents, my brother and his family" (after a short pause) "Briefly."

"Should I also contact my mother and your ex-spouses?"

"Blythe is fine, but I'll skip the exes. Would you want to see Stacy in such a situation?"

"As you may recall I already did, with less than optimal results."

"I actually think we can wait two weeks. We can fix the precise date when we see how fast my health deteriorates."

"Ok. I'm as ready for this as I will ever be."

The door closed softly behind Wilson's parents, and House returned to the sofa, and sat down near Wilson and his IV pole.

"That should be more or less it with the leave-taking. And the support group seems to be working well."

"They all promised me to keep track of you afterwards, and make sure you eat and drink properly, and don't OD on anything. It's comforting to know I'm not leaving you alone. On the other hand, one of my many regrets about dying is that I won't have the pleasure to see you sitting shiva with my mother and Cuddy."

"I actually don't plan to."

"Well, I can't blame you. You may want to check into a hotel, though, since there will be no way to keep either of them out of here."

"I'm coming with you."

"What? Are you crazy? You're not even sixty yet! You have decades in front of you! You can find someone else - maybe a woman for a change? Chase told me there's a young rheumatology nurse who can't keep her eyes off you in the cafeteria."

"Chase shouldn't spread silly rumors: I would have noticed if someone were checking me out. Also, she has thick ankles and believes in horoscopes. Anyway, there are things I know and Chase doesn't. Collect whatever chemo has left of your brain and look at this file, while I put the glasses in the dishwasher."

"Is this supposed to be your file, despite it's in the name of a Graham Home?"

"I didn't want to advertise. You may recall doing something similar not too long ago."

"Your liver is almost gone, and you'll need a transplant soon! Are you already on the waiting list?"

"I should really sue, that chemo was way too neurotoxic. Look better in the bottom lower quadrant."

"Liver cancer. Oh my G-d, House."

"Check the file. Carefully."

"Are these... metastases?"

"Apparently you do have some neurons left. I'm dying as much as you are, only not quite so fast. Can I now pretty please come with you?"

"Well, with proper management you would have very likely one year, maybe more."

"Really something to look forward to, right? I'll put your ashes on a shelf in the bedroom for when I'm too sick to go to the cemetery. I might even use the urn to puke in, in case of need."

"House... you can't die now. It's too early."

"Says who? What pleasures am I looking forward to in the next 12 months, apart of course from sitting shiva with your family and Cuddy? How come you get to skip a month but I don't get to skip a year?"

"I... I need time to think about this."

"Think then." House took Wilson's face among both his hands, and looked him straight in the eyes. "James, I want the same you want. To die happy. To die in your arms."

"Let's talk about it tomorrow, I'm tired."

"House, I still think it's crazy, but if you're dying anyway soon I can see your point. On the other hand, are you indeed dying anytime soon? How can I be sure that these are really your data?"

"I wasn't so suspicious with you last time."

"Don't be an idiot, House. I want proof. The timing of this is so strangely convenient."

"I don't want to be officially tested. She wouldn't leave us alone afterwards, like, ever. And you're too sick to come to the hospital and run the tests yourself."

Wilson easily understood who "she" was supposed to be.

"Ok, I'll be satisfied with one trustworthy witness, repeating the tests with you."

"Fine. Your pick: Chase? Taub? Foreman? Thirteen?"

"I don't trust any of them. We need someone who won't lie for you."

"How about M3?"

"The med student who replaced Thirteen while she was on leave? Is she back at PPTH?"

"No, she's not. But she's now an MD at UPenn, and I can call her. You know how she is - she would keep a secret once she's promised to do so and she would never lie."

"Ok. M3 it is. Luckily we still have a few days left. Let's make the most of them."

A/N We're almost done: just one more (short) chapter. It is actualy already finished, except that every time I read it I find more mistakes. All reviews appreciated.