"Everything from my dream told me something. Everything that occurred--it was either a fear, a dream, hoặc part of reality. But--" as he spoke his voice had slowed down..
"What? What's wrong."
"I wanted to be with her. The drug trials was reality. The accident was part of reality. The adoption was--want? Stacy was--a fear. What happened to her was a want. My mom, a reality. Cutting--a fear. Something I would have to resort to? Suicide--fear. Another thing I would resort to. Her death. Why should it be a fear? It's not a want. It can't be. It can't be a fear either--a reality?"
"What the hell are bạn talking about House?"
"She's--going to die."
"Who's she?"
"Cuddy."

><><><

Pulled over on the driveway of Mayfield Psychiatric hospital, House and Wilson leaned against the car as the watched the moon ascend. The sky filled with darkness, but faded slightly as the moon arrived in its place. Conversing in plain sight, Wilson held off delivering House back.

"So bạn think, she does have cancer, but not fatal? Not--terminal?"
"Yet."
"Based off of evidence that came to bạn while bạn were dreaming--in a coma?"
"Glad you're still surprised bởi this particular factor. I've done it in the past, and I can do it again."
"Are bạn talking about the ex-marine?"
"Yep."
"Right. One time your dreams tell bạn something--"
"What about the ketamine?"
"You told us bạn probably read that somewhere--"
"Right. Because I read somewhere that a drug induced coma could relieve chronic pain, possibly permanently, and I didn't dare to try it out as soon as I read it. That totally sounds like me."
"Yeah but being a python, hoặc being clairvoyant, certainly doesn't sound like bạn either."
"I'm not saying I'm a python, hoặc clairvoyant. I'm saying that--dreams are clairvoyant."
"So everyone's dreams are just gonna start coming true?"
"Haven't bạn ever watched Cinderella? 'A dream is a wish your tim, trái tim makes, when you're fast asleep. And then something about losing heartache and then--if bạn keep on believing, the dream that wish will come true.' See? Even Disney buys it."
"Oh, shut up. You--cannot, foresee the 'future', okay?"
"Tell that to her when bạn have to diagnose her with terminal lung cancer two, maybe three months from now."
"I, I--can't diagnose her with something life-threatening, based solely of off your mere dreams and assumptions House. If, should she have cancer, don't bạn think I'd be the first to notice?"
"We had this conversation a couple years cách đây when we thought she had cancer then. bạn believed me then. bạn were stupid enough to take her spoon. Because bạn were scared that I was right. And you're denying me now because bạn are scared that I'm right. Because things like this have happened before, and I was always right."
"You--were wrong then."
"I was right about something going on."
"Right. Cancer, wanting a baby. Hm, yeah, same thing."
"Oh shut up. She didn't even tell bạn about that for the longest time."
"Back to the real matter? Please."
"Try--something. Be quick and discreet. Find something." House opened the door, and grabbed his stuff. To his surprise something was missing.
"Damn it." he đã đưa ý kiến finally.
"What?" Wilson was just looking at the ground with his arms folded as he closed the door handling his things.
"Forgot my jacket."
"You want me to go back and get it?"
"Early August Wilson, bạn really want me to die of a heat stroke? I'll be fine."
"Here, gimme." Wilson grabbed his duffle bag and rested it on his shoulders. They began to walk towards the hospital.
"There's a party, tiếp theo week. Back at the hospital."
"You guys are just now celebrating my leave? Thought bạn would've had that celebration the một giây I stepped out of that place." he uttered sarcastically. Wilson turned his head and gave him a look as they continued onward.
"Cuddy and I talked to Yvensteir. Mostly Cuddy. I just gave her the idea, but he's letting bạn go that night. It's from six till midnight. bạn should go."
"What's the occasion, Jimmy?"
"Hospital anniversary. bạn remember."
"Twenty-five years, yeah I remember." they made it up to the steps and through the doors, meeting the front desk. Dr. Yvensteir was already waiting on the arrival.
"Dr. House. Good to see you're well again."
"I've been better." he retorted.
"He's in a little pain. He's been on morphine for so long, and the concussion--occasional headaches." Wilson commented.
"Thank you, Dr. Wilson. bạn and Dr. Cuddy have been a great help with him through this." Dr. Yvensteir just smiled at Wilson, who replied with a nod, patting House on the back. Then a nurse came by, and took House's belongings, including his duffle bag from Wilson.
"I'm going to head back. I'll call you--?"
"Just--do what I told bạn earlier." Wilson rolled his eyes and waved goodbye at them. Dr. Yvensteir just smiled at House, and urged him over. House sighed, and gave an entertained smile as he limped slowly towards him.
Outside, Wilson was walking back towards his car. The only things running through his mind were everything that House had said. Every single thing that came out of his mouth. He kept closing and opening his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. His thoughts roamed through the air, just floating as he tried to think things through. It would be a long drive back home, so he had plenty of time to do so.

---

The following ngày - 12:00 p.m.
Princeton-Plainsbro

"There's his jacket," Wilson stated walking into Cuddy's office.
"Yeah, he left it behind yesterday."
"I'm not here about that."
"It didn't sound like it." Wilson waited a một phút before actually responding. Not knowing what she could possibly do hoặc say, he did things slow. But she got up from her bàn and began walking towards her doors.
"Clinics piled up, bạn should do yours and I have mine--"
"I went through your garbage last night."
"You--what?" she angrily asked him. She had stopped midway towards her doors, holding files in her hand. Head turned toward Wilson, she listened to his explanation--sort of.
"I--went through your garbage last night and I brought some of it back to the lab--"
"Is this some way to compensate for House not being here, hoặc is there an actual reason behind this?"
"Both. Sort of. In a good way. I'm compensating for him snooping around and actually looking out for bạn and there's an actual reason behind it. I looked for cancer markers--"
"So bạn think I have cancer. Wh--under what assumptions? And if bạn say House I'll--fire you."
"No bạn won't." he retorted.
"Fine. I won't. But it was House."
"What difference does it make? If this was under my assumptions you'd be in a frenzy."
"No. I'd be just as morally outraged at bạn for invading my privacy." she defended weakly walking back toward her desk.
"Right. That has nothing to do with it being House."
"You two have done this before. bạn were wrong then, you're still wrong now. I have a clean medical history in my family--"
"Cuddy. He's right." he đã đưa ý kiến softly. She looked at him, expressionless as ever.
"Okay, first bạn tell me about the hallucinations and now bạn spring this on me, if this is some kind of twisted joke, I am killing him."
"Right, because secretly House is watching us from that bathroom just watching the look on your face right now." he uttered sarcastically.
She waited for him to continue. Hopefully, to relieve her.
"We need to get better evidence than markers. I need a scan, Cuddy." she dropped the files down on the desk, and gave a quiet scoff. She walked over towards her couch, and fell back.
"If anything--we probably caught it in time." she threw him a skeptically look, and he tried again.
"You haven't shown any signs. The only thing we are actually basing this on is House, which is the same as getting bạn a scan, and cancer markers. So it's either bạn don't have it--" he walked over and joined her on the couch. Resting his arm over her shoulders.
"Or you're just really lucky House called it. It's either bạn don't have it, and House is just a plain lunatic and the tests were wrong--or they were right...and he saved your life." those were the very few words she needed to hear right now. Stressing over the planning for the party, stressing over the things House had đã đưa ý kiến the trước đó day, and the regular duties of being a mother, administrator and dean of medicine were weighing her down. This was probably the last thought to be put on her shoulders.

"I'll book the MRI in ten minutes." he đã đưa ý kiến calmingly. She gave a nod, and he turned his arm reach into a hug.

---

An giờ later - Mayfield

House was sitting on a bench, admiring the sight before him on Mayfield's grounds. Coffee cup in hand, and beloved cane at side, the summer breeze blew over and tousled his hair. The air lapsed into silence as he isolated himself from his surroundings. He could see everything--but the only thing he could hear was her--pleading.
Everything was silenced, and all he could hear was her voice. Mouth shut, gritting his teeth, feeling how painful it really was to hear her--begging.
What was thêm was having to walk away. Brush it off, as if--nothing.
As easy as it was to do since personal experience had brought him well, the pain ached. A sickening pain inside him, đang tải him with guilt.
All these thoughts roamed his head. His serenity had broken.
And then, a soft touch had occurred on his shoulder. Snapping out of this isolation, he jerked, and turned to see a nurse at his side.

"You have a phone call, Greg." he nodded off to the nurse, and took a look around him. No one had seen him in the trance apparently. If one of his asylum buddies were there, they could've snapped him out of it, he thought as he made his way back inside.
"Hello?" he grunted into the phone.
"You were right.
"You should be thêm specific. I'm right about a lot of things."
"Cuddy." his stomach dropped. Afraid to actually hear the diagnosis this time.
"Is she--how did--what is it." he finally said.
"Small tumor in the upper right lobe. Cancerous, but operable."
"How is she?"
"She's in surgery. She's gonna be fine. Good call House." he sighed before speaking.
"You made the move. I had a theory."
"If bạn hadn't đã đưa ý kiến anything--"
"You would've eventually caught on anyway. I cocked the gun, bạn pulled the trigger."
"You thrive on gratitude. Especially from Cuddy, because then she owes you."
"I don't want her to have to owe me. I don't need gratitude from her."
"Well bạn may have only cocked the gun, and I pull the trigger. But I know--sometimes we pull the trigger, we don't know if that bullet is in there--you did. You--put the bullet in, all of them. If bạn hadn't done that, we'd be staring down the barrel of the gun of the shoot out. We would've had a good chance of dying."
"Okay, bạn just ruined the whole metaphor." he stated sarcastically.
"Right. Because it wasn't ruined enough already."
"Oh, shut up. Don't bạn have lives to save? I got some unwinding and group therapy to do."
"I've saved enough lives today, I'm going to eat. Lunch with your older kids."
"Oh great. They'll be asking uncle Jimmy all these các câu hỏi about me. Hm. They know about mommy?"
"No one. Yet."
"Keep it hush, hush. Melt the scans, throw out the papers, and the surgery--her appendix removed. Don't want a panic over there."
"Yeah, sure. bạn should go, bạn got group therapy with your new buddies right?"
"Shut up, Wilson."
"Bye, House."

---