Later that day: Night 8:00 p.m.

Cuddy walked carefully into her house and quietly shut her door behind her. She examined the entire house and listened, for any sign of movement ou for just, anyone. She slipped off her shoes and laid her bag on the side table. As she walked through, she could hear distant cooing coming from the nursery: they were home. She walked into the bedroom to find House already half asleep. She slipped out of her clothes, and put on her sweats that had been laid out par his duffel bag, on her chair. As soon as she slipped into lit behind him, and held him in an embrace tears slightly filled her eyes. For she knew that the amount of opportunities she could do this, were shortened, shortened, par so much. House had felt the tears against the back of his shirt, but he made no mention. But he did begin to talk to her, without turning around.

"How was lunch with Wilson?"
"Oh. I didn't know toi were awake."
"It's hard to sleep with an empty l’espace behind me."
"Mm. We had a good lunch. He bought. And then I went back to the hospital for my clinic check, they a dit I was okay, the blood was just a one time thing and the chest pain was heartburn."
"Chronic fatigue?"
"I've got a baby. Less than a an old."
"Yeah, I'd say that's a good excuse."
"You pick up your mom?"
"While toi were sleeping earlier, yeah."
"I didn't hear toi leave."
"Go to sleep."
"I had plenty of sleep today--"
"No, you're just annoying me, cause I need some."

She broke a laugh and he turned to her and kissed her on the head, before turning back around with at tense look on his face. His suspicions were becoming deeper, and he needed to find out what was going on.

---

Two weeks Later: Monday 10:00 a.m.

"It's gotta be cancer."
"Or it could be TB?"
"I call for, amyloidosis."

The team was all revved up in the differential. Ideas shot out from each person, rotating from Foreman, to Thirteen, to Taub. Eventually House sent them off.

"Foreman, get us an MRI check for cancer, Thirteen, get a physical, chest X-ray and run smears and blood cultures, get a biopsy."

All of them fluttered out, and went off to do their tasks. House was still thinking about Cuddy. He sat at the table, tableau for minutes before deciding to leave. To entertain himself, he made his way to Wilson's office. He however, stopped abruptly at his door when he saw that hit was cracked open. He was almost afraid to walk in, but he did anyway. No one in sight. So, he decided to play around at his desk. So he limped on over and began raiding the drawers, but some paperwork on the bureau had caught his eye.

"Large mass covering right lung, northern half of left."

He dropped the papers back onto the bureau and limped right out of there, returning to his place in his office.

:::

Fifteen minutes later
10:25 a.m.

House was sitting at his bureau staring furiously at one single spot in his room. He could not outburst, for he was expecting his team any minute. He couldn't do anything at the moment, for he was confined in his office, along with these mixed emotions. He spun around and looked outside. All he could think about was why she didn't tell him. He had a feeling something was wrong since the moment she started coughing, and he usually is right about his suspicions, and he was right about this. So, knowing what was wrong wasn't the problem, not telling him about it was. Not only was he angry at Cuddy, but he was angry and Wilson for not overpowering her judgment. All of the sudden the team came in.

"It's cancer," Taub declared as they entered the room.
"Lung cancer. Her father used to smoke plenty around her as a child and well into her teenage years. It's finally taken it's effect. But we caught it in it's late stage. It's already metastasized over the two northern parts of her lungs."

Foreman was waiting for his response. But, he refused to say anything. They already knew the diagnosis, so go figure, there's no point.

"Are toi okay?" Thirteen asked awkwardly.
"I'm fine."
"So what are we doing?"
"You guys know what to do. Go tell her."
"You don't want to do a differential, to prove me wrong?"
"Nope."
"Don't toi think it's benign?"
"No."
"You are sure?"
"You even a dit it yourself. Based on her family history and her MRI scan, it makes sense."
"You never settle for just a--"

He slammed down his cane against the table, tableau par the window sill and stood up.

"She's dying! There's no diagnosis for that! toi yourself a dit it's terminal! You've got the facts down! There is no differential for a terminal illness!"

Thirteen and Taub were fairly shocked, possibly even scared. They hadn't seen an outburst from him in a long time. Foreman however, remained calm. He didn't yell back, but he had a concerned look on his face.

"What's going on?"
"Nothing." He had calmed down. His voice was steady, but slightly shaky.
"Something's happened. I want to know."
"No toi don't. Don't go self righteous on me and try to figure out why I'm angry."
"If something's going on with my boss, I'd like to know what's bugging him."
"Why, because toi care?"
"Yeah, maybe."

He gritted his teeth together. Then he began to walk out.

"Do your job, stop trying to attend to me."

And he disappeared out of the office, leaving two out of three clueless, and one out of the three upset.

:::

Hours later
3:00 p.m.

House had been avoiding his team, Cuddy and Wilson all day. He spent his time going up and down the stairwells, trying to get this feeling away. He was in complete denial about the whole thing, and he needed to somehow let his anger out, without hurting the people dear to him. As he was doing so, he nearly tripped and fell down two flights of stairs, but he saved himself, just barely. He had been doing this for hours until 3:00, when he finally decided to face Wilson. He walked out onto the third floor and went straight for Wilson's office. He was actually there when he walked in, so to montrer that something was wrong he threw the door shut as he walked towards his desk.

"Something--wrong?"
"You tell me."
"I--wish I could?"

House just stared at Wilson. He released the hurt, the anger, and the pain, within this stare, and soon enough, Wilson's face dropped.

"How did you--?"
"The idea that the woman I l’amour is dying, can't really be kept from me."

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