Oncology rocks

A.N. I really enjoyed the two episodes in the series which took the perspectives of Wilson and Cuddy. House appeared only tangentially in these. The following chapter is a riff on that theme, adapted for my Hameron obsession and the requirements of this story. The title is borrowed from Friends (Ross has a bag with a patch 'geology rocks!'). Unfortunately, I couldn't think of a similar pun for oncology.


It was Friday morning and Wilson was working at his desk, attempting to make a dent in some of the paperwork that always seemed to accrue during the course of any given week. Oncology was one of the larger departments in the hospital, and certainly one of the best funded, by virtue of the fact that cancer had yet to yield to human intervention. Somebody somewhere would win a Nobel Prize and everlasting fame if they managed to crack that particular chestnut. Such things were far from his mind, though. Despite all the resources, he still had not managed to secure a personal assistant. So here he was validating reports, authorising equipment requisitions, and scanning performance reviews; not really what he got into oncology for, but vital tasks, nonetheless. For a brief moment he wondered how House dealt with such things, but the thought was so ludicrous he snorted out loud.

There was a knock at the door and he called 'come in', quickly composing his features in case the visitor thought he had been laughing at his own jokes. He had a reputation of non-weirdness to maintain, after all. Cuddy gave her employee a funny look. "What're you chuckling about? Have I got toothpaste on my chin or something?".

"It's not you, it's me", replied Wilson, gesturing to the seat opposite.

Cuddy sank into it and placed her iPad on the desk. "Ugh, you sound like my ex-boyfriend. Some guys just can't accept strong women. Or maybe it was because I blew him off one too many times".

"Huh. See, I'd have guessed most guys would actually love that from their girlfriends…".

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "I swear you people are so obvious sometimes".

"By that you mean oncologists specifically or men generally?".

"What do you think?".

"Romance is dead is what I think". Wilson took a swig of coffee.

"Uhuh". She tapped her fingers on the desk. "D'you know, I've completely forgotten what I came up here for. Why don't you talk at me for a bit while my brain reboots".

"Alright". The man glanced through a few of the papers on his desk. "I've been going through the applicants for the vacant position in Smith's wing. There's a guy from Harvard and another from John Hopkins I'd like to invite in for a chat, and a third from Cambridge".

"England?".

"Yeah, she looks high quality. Already published some decent stuff and has completed residencies both here and in the UK". Wilson located the relevant file and read off some more details.

Cuddy nodded, pleased that PPTH was still able to attract international talent despite the Vogler debacle. This reflection had jogged her memory, but she replied to Wilson first. "Sounds good. Bring her in. I'm actively encouraging department heads to pursue female doctors and those from non-white backgrounds".

"Well, this woman is white".

"Can't win them all, eh? Just as long as she doesn't snort cocaine like the last guy you hired". She reached across and took up the coffee mug, taking a sip. "I remember now why I came in. The Vogler replacement-".

But Wilson had already raised a hand. "-I've told you already: I left the Board for a reason". As a sitting member, he had been forced to witness Vogler's railroading of the hospital management, and his efforts to have House's tenure terminated. Although Wilson knew all too well the consequences of his friend's way of practising medicine, he didn't appreciate the almost vindictive ruthlessness with which the millionaire sponsor had pursued his aims. Vogler had been defeated in the end, but the experience had soured things, and Wilson had resigned his position soon after.

"I know that, James, but I'd really appreciate it if you'd hear me out. If you still refuse, I won't mention the thing again".

Wilson sighed but inclined his head in assent, nevertheless. When Cuddy used his first name he knew it was important. "Fine. What's up?".

"We've narrowed it down to a couple of candidates, and the Board are meeting with the favoured choice on Monday evening".

He took up a pen and started twirling it between his fingers. "Why is this guy the frontrunner?".

"Well, quite". Cuddy took a deep breath. "He's interested chiefly because of House. And if you were willing, I'd want you to sit in on our chat and listen to what he has to say; help us make sure it's all kosher. The last thing I want is another House-centred blowout".

"If this fellow likes House, I'd say he's already got my vote. Frankly, I'm unsure why you're so apprehensive. It's not like sponsors are falling over themselves to fund us, is it?".

"No", she conceded. "But I'm not taking any chances, and I can't afford another misstep on this front. This man admires House from afar, but you know as well as I that when people get up close to him, he can be…difficult".

Wilson laced his hands together. "Are you planning on introducing them?".

"I'm afraid so. A face to face is one of the conditions. Aside from that he's promised us free rein. So, will you come to the meeting and help us sound the guy out?".

"I'll come, if only to satisfy my own curiosity as to what someone who is open to House actually looks like". He took another sip of coffee as Cuddy tapped away on her iPad. "Are you gonna tell him he has a fan?".

"Absolutely not", she snorted. "I don't want his ego getting any bigger. First Cameron, now this sponsor…it's a funny old world. Speaking of, any Hameron news you can share?".

"What, are we in the schoolyard now?".

"Oh, come on. We both know it's a hot topic. Did he say anything at the bar?".

"They had a steamy date and he seems happy", he shrugged. "As happy as I've seen him in a long time".

Cuddy nodded thoughtfully. "I can say the same for Cameron. If this thing ends, it won't be her that ends it. I think it may be love".

"Mmm". Wilson decided against telling his friend about House's confession in this very office that he was falling for his immunologist. Gossip was one thing, but revealing deep feelings shared in confidence was another matter entirely. "Well, it's still early days. But the next few weeks and months will be interesting, that's for sure".

"Agreed. Anyway, I'll let you get back to it—see you later", said Cuddy, getting up and walking to the door. "I'll email you the meeting time for Monday".

Wilson waved her goodbye and sat thinking whilst he finished his coffee. It was good that PPTH would soon have a new sponsor. He knew more than most how much flak Cuddy had taken for the manner in which Vogler had treated, then left, the hospital; he knew also the pressure she was under simply for being a woman in a man's world. As for the relationship stuff, Wilson suspected that Cuddy, like him, was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that their impossible friend seemed to have found a kindred spirit in Cameron. The real question was how long it could last—that was anyone's guess. The one thing he had learnt after many years of friendship with House was that he tended to be predictably unpredictable.


Wilson entered one of the treatment rooms and smiled at the lady sitting on the bed wrapped in a standard issue hospital gown. "Hi. Bianca Graham, I assume? I'm Dr. Wilson. You can call me James; I hear you've been seeing Dr. Steiner?".

The woman, who was extremely pretty, smiled nervously. "Hello. Yes. Dr. Steiner says they're probably just calcium deposits".

Wilson nodded and put on his latex gloves. "Well, with your history you did the right thing getting checked out".

"Do you think there's a chance it could be cancer?", she asked worriedly.

The doctor glanced at her file, before throwing her a comforting look. "Well, look, it's remotely possible. Breast cancer is one of those that can run in families. Given your youth and lifestyle, I'd say it's pretty unlikely. But that's what we're here to find out. If you could just pull the gown down a touch, that would be perfect".

The woman did as instructed.

"That's plenty, thanks. Try and relax".

Wilson spent the next fifteen minutes carefully checking his patient. Only when he was completely satisfied did he make a note on the file and remove his gloves. "Well, the good news is that I'm almost positive it's not breast cancer. But there are several formations in the tissue I'd like to look at more closely".

Bianca looked so relieved at the news that he felt like giving her a congratulatory pat on the shoulder. But such a thing was entirely inappropriate. "OK. Could these formations be dangerous?", she asked, retying her gown.

"It's highly unlikely. Calcium deposits are not unusual—the human body is a marvellous thing, but there are so many little variations. What we need to do is ensure that these variations don't turn out to be malignant; hence why I'm booking you in for a mammogram. The most likely outcome is they're deposits, and absolutely nothing to worry about".

"And if they are deposits? What then?".

"Generally, we advise you leave them in situ, since they don't actually affect your health. But if you wanted, we could probably remove them with laser surgery". Wilson had poured the woman a glass of water, which he handed to her.

She accepted the drink with a smile and took a sip. "OK. And the mammogram?".

"The mammogram is uncomfortable, to be honest. To get a good scan the nurse will have to squeeze your breasts pretty hard between the paddles of our instruments. But it's a quick procedure, and after that we'll know for sure what we're dealing with".

"Alright. Thanks, James", Bianca smiled again.

"No problem. I'll inform the nurse and we'll get you booked in as soon as possible". With that, Wilson left the room, silently berating himself for harbouring unprofessional thoughts. House joked about it, but Wilson often found himself dealing with such things. It was a source of intense embarrassment and stemmed chiefly from the fact that he had been unhappily married for a good stretch of his medical career. Now, though, he was single, and part of him missed female companionship. Unlike House, he loved being in a relationship, loved having someone to come home to. He wandered over to the nurse station, relayed his instructions, and headed back to his office.

Naturally, he would never hit on a patient, especially one worried sick by a cancer scare. Wilson had standards. Still, he was always on the lookout for wife number...four? Even he forgot occasionally. Mathilde had been the most recent half-decent prospect, but that effort had been torpedoed by House, and she had ended up with Chase anyway. He didn't particularly fancy following after the Australian. Cameron seemed to be the only woman in the hospital who didn't find him devilishly attractive. Wilson knew his own limitations. Still, he was an eternal optimist, and if House of all people had managed to find a partner, he remained confident that the right woman would come his own way eventually. Naturally, he'd never dream of confiding any of this.

Wilson glanced at his watch as he made his way past the lab. There would be time for a quick sandwich and water before he was to chair a departmental end-of-week meeting.

The three fellows were heading towards him.

"Small world. Lab time?", he asked.

"Nah, we've all been sent to the clinic to make up House's weekly quota before end of play today", replied Foreman. Cameron, standing beside her colleague, rolled her eyes. She really disliked sports metaphors, and House wasn't even here, so it was completely unnecessary.

"Ah, enjoy!".

"Oh, by the way, Wilson, as it happened, our patient didn't have cancer after all", said Cameron, turning around quickly.

"Huh. But the granulomas?". Wilson was surprised.

"Sarcoidosis", she finished.

"I guess it's House 1 Wilson 0 then". Although obviously pleased for the patient, it rankled that his friend had beaten him to a diagnosis.

"Actually, it's Cuddy 1 House 0 Wilson 0. Our lord and master thought it was pneumocystis pneumonia". Chase this time.

"Nice. I can rest a bit easier tonight. Have fun in the clinic".

The doctors parted ways.

Wilson punched the button for the elevator. As he waited, he reflected for a moment on Cameron. Only she would have thought to inform Wilson about the welfare of a patient in whom he had shown interest, and even that was a passing consultation two days ago. Most doctors wouldn't have bothered. The woman was like House in a number of ways, unlike him in others. He supposed the two complemented each other. His best friend was a lucky man. Wilson stepped into the elevator and glanced again at his watch. The sandwich would have to wait.


"OK, so as I say, Ben, I'll interview these people initially and then send them on to you if they pass muster. Sound good?". Wilson was wrapping up his meeting and looking forward to some food.

"Yes. But it'll need to be sooner rather than later. My guys are overstretched at the moment, and I'm not sure how much longer it can go on like this. Ideally, I'd want another couple of doctors, one of whom would have a specialty in childhood cancers". Ben Smith was a round fellow with a kindly face.

"I understand. I'll see what I can do. Does anyone have something else to add or are we all done here?". Wilson scanned the room, noting the shaking heads. "Excellent. See you next week". The others trooped out of the conference room while he packed away his laptop and papers over the rumbling of his own stomach.

"Could I have a word, please?".

Wilson looked up and smiled at the young man who had remained. "Sure. What's up, Dr. Patel?".

The man fidgeted with his hands. "I was hoping I could consult you on a...personal matter".

"Fire away".

"I was wondering what the official line was regarding, er, relationships at work?".

Wilson stopped shuffling papers. "Got someone in your sights, Patel?".

"That depends", he answered, "on what the policy is".

"The policy is that as long as the relationship doesn't affect your work, it's fine". As he spoke, Wilson's mind flashed back to yesterday, when he'd found House and Cameron in Diagnostics. The two had been almost glowing in the aftermath of a romantic entanglement. If he was willing to allow his best friend to get away with a workplace dalliance, it would be hypocritical of him to insist that his own employees remained unattached. All the same, no one had actually brought up the issue before now. "This isn't a monastery, and as long as you're adult about it, the hospital trusts you to know what's appropriate and what isn't".

Patel sighed in relief. "Great, thank you. See you later".

Wilson smiled and nodded as the other left the room. It seemed everyone was making progress on the romantic front except him. Oh well. With a final glance at his watch, he made his way to the door and switched off the lights. A full afternoon of appointments awaited.


Several hours later Wilson had just waved goodbye to his final patient and was contemplating finishing a couple of outstanding note write-ups. But the thought quickly vanished—the stuff could wait until Monday. What he wanted was a cold beer and a night in front of Netflix. There was a new Spanish series he'd had his eyes on for a while. Maybe he could start that and order some paella. Yes, that would do very nicely. He quickly checked his email, tidied up, and shrugged into his coat, locking the door behind him.

Wilson ambled down the corridor towards Diagnostics, briefly considering asking if House wanted to hang out. But he decided against it. Hameron were still in the honeymoon phase and didn't need him encroaching on their alone time. Still, their office was on the way out. He glanced through the glass and saw the couple talking together. "Evening", he said, walking into the shared office.

"Hi", smiled Cameron.

"Did Cameron reveal how wrong you were about our patient?", smirked House.

"She may've mentioned something, yeah", replied Wilson drily.

"Excellent, excellent".

"So what's on the docket for Hameron tonight? Spot of dancing in the club, perhaps? A film? Maybe a romantic comedy featuring the talents of Hugh Grant or Sandra Bullock?". Wilson leant against the glass wall.

House pretended to dry heave. "What the hell is a Hameron?".

"I believe it's a combination of our names. See, you're called Gregory House and I'm called Allison Cameron. That's clever", she chimed in.

"Yes, thank you, professor. If you think that's clever, there's no hope for us".

Cameron snorted, but turned to the kindly brown eyes of the man by the door. "To answer your question, we're going jogging. But the way your friend's carrying on, I think he's trying to worm his way out of it".

"You wanna place a bet, James? Camster thinks she can outrun me". House had started tapping a beat on the table.

Wilson tilted his head. "Don't 'James' me. You think you, a recovering drug addict, borderline alcoholic, formerly cane-bound, middle-aged man can run faster than a youthful, healthy, able-bodied woman?".

"Et tu, Brute? Anyway, you're forgetting my competitiveness. I don't know how to lose".

"Yep, no, sure. I'm still backing Cameron".

The woman folded her arms and grinned at her boss.

"Fair dinkum. Fifty bucks says you're wrong. I just quoted Shakespeare, by the way, you damned philistines", retorted House.

"Fine. Fifty bucks". Wilson pointed at Cameron. "Don't lose".

"No problem. I can take him". She went to the sink and poured herself a glass of water.

"Right. I'm off. Enjoy yourselves, kids. Let me know how it goes". With that, Wilson left with a wave, leaving the pair alone.

House exhaled through his nose, a ghost of a smile on his lips. He'd set himself a tricky task, for sure. But now was not the time for second guessing himself.

Cameron moved to stand over him. "Let's go, buster. We've got a date with destiny".

House got to his feet and looked down at his girlfriend, blue eyes flashing. "Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?".