I do not own House, M.D. or its characters. The following story is from my own, somewhat pure brain, and is merely my attempt to play in the world so cleverly constructed by others. No copy write infringement is intended, and I receive no profit from this writing other than the feedback of my readers – of which I hope there will be much.

This work has not gone through a beta reader, so any errors or mistakes are my own. I am relatively new to watching House, M.D. in that I have not caught every single episode, but I have about 50 percent of the episodes under my viewing belt. There will probably be lapses both in canon and in character voice, but positive feedback and constructive criticism is always appreciated. If you cannot offer your criticisms in a helpful manner, I ask that you do not leave a comment at all.

This fiction is Cameron/House romance with a Cameron/Wilson friendship undertone. If these pairing do not appeal to you, do not read it. You have been warned. ~~grin~~

For those of you who have decided to stick around, I hope that you enjoy.

~ Sarah

The Cure: Prologue – "Not Average Day at the Office"

Dr. James Wilson bit into his morning bagel and savored the taste of the homemade salmon cream cheese in his mouth. Yep, this recipe was by far the best. The addition of a touch of chardonnay definitely brought out the taste of the salmon. He leaned back in his desk chair, hands behind his head, and watched the spring leaves on the trees beyond his window flutter in the light breeze.

Ahhh … it was a lovely morning. The warmth of spring had finally started to push back the bitter winds Princeton had suffered that winter, his patients were responding well to their treatments, and even House had been … manageable this week. The diagnostician's latest patient had kept him and his newest crop of ducklings sufficiently occupied that there had been little opportunity for House to excessively harass either Cuddy or Wilson – the clinic patients were a different story, of course.

It was going to be a wonderful day.

A knock at his door pulled Wilson from his reverie. His voice was cheerful as he called out permission to enter.

"Good morning, Allison," he said, rising from his chair to greet the younger ER doctor. He was genuinely pleased to see her. Since she had transferred out of House's Diagnostics Department two years ago, he seldom saw Allison Cameron as often as he did when she worked next door. "Have you eaten yet?" Wilson turned to gesture at the brown bakery bag and Tupperware container on his desk. "I have fresh bagels and homemade cream cheese …"

"No. No thank you, James," Cameron said.

Wilson turned around at the tremor in her voice, and for the first time since she came into his office, he noticed how pale she was, how … scared she looked.

"Allison? What is it?" He stepped closer, genuine concern marring his boyish features.

Cameron stuffed her hands into the pockets of her lab coat and began to pace the length of his office. To Wilson's eyes, she looked as though there were a thousand places she would rather be, but had reluctantly accepted that this was the only place she currently belonged. Suddenly, the words came from her in a rush.

"I was hit in the chest by that damn portable fluoroscope a few weeks ago. The technician looks like he's about twelve, was wheeling it too quickly through the ER, and just ran into me as I was coming out of an exam room. I thought that explained the swelling and the pain. I didn't think anything of it. I mean why should I? I'm only 33. I don't drink or smoke, I eat right, I exercise. My relative risk is almost non-existent. My doctor is on vacation, and I couldn't stand the idea of going to someone I didn't know, who didn't know me, not about this –"

"Allison!" Wilson interrupted, grabbing her arm as she had started to gesticulate wildly. Her voice had taken on a disturbing note of panic, and she appeared as though she was about to fly apart. He had never seen her so distressed. "What are you talking about?"

Cameron bit her lip, her damp eyes wide as she stared into his. "I found a lump."

Oh, God.

He had been wrong.

It was most definitely not going to be a wonderful day.

Feedback and constructive criticism is always appreciated.