A/N: Hello, people! Please avert your eyes to the adjacent text, consisting of the please-don't-sue-me disclaimer and the next chapter of Sanity's Edge. Really, really short because I want to start the next chapter with Cameron and her miserable ailment.

Disclaimer: This morning, I woke up in tears. I've been living a lie—I'm not David Shore after all! I don't own House!

House was sitting unhappily (or rather, was strapped down with some restraints Cuddy ordered he have) in his hospital cot, squirming in attempt to free himself. It wasn't working. He groaned and set his head down in defeat. The lights flickered uncomfortably above him. House slammed his eyes shut. They were very irritating. Suddenly, Wilson burst into the room, his head visibly spinning. He stammered out the latest medical breakdown. "Cameron's a patient now. Her legs won't hold up any pressure. We think she has what you do."

House unnoticeably filed Cameron's symptoms away into his head before interrupting Wilson's report. "Hey! Get someone to fix these damn lights. They're giving me a headache."

Wilson's mouth dropped open. "Your employee just collapsed with the same illness that could be killing you and you're not at all concerned for her?"

House shrugged as well as he could with the restraints. "She's already sick. Where's the use in caring now?"

"You're an ass, House. Do you know that?" But House wasn't listening. Rather, he was staring at the cleavage of a quickly moving Cuddy, who was steadily making her way down the hallway and into House's room.

She screamed. "House! Cameron—" Wilson shut her up with a sigh. House was glad—that shockingly high voice was the last thing he needed.

House stared at her. "What do you want me to do?"

"Well, I—"

"Um, no. Rhetorical, Cuddy. Rhetorical." House paused to take a breath; one he was sure he wouldn't have normally needed. The room was spinning, and Cuddy's voice was much too loud. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "What tests have you done?"

Cuddy stood up straighter, her face somewhat twisted. Why is he whispering? She shrugged it aside somewhat disappointedly and replied. "None. I thought—"

House's eyes clamped shut. Maybe he could block out her voice with his eyelids? "Stop thinking, start doing. Run an MRI and get some blood work." Wilson thought about arguing with House's impudence, but put the urge aside. He wasn't in the mood to discuss what was killing his best friend and one of his colleagues.