Cuddy had almost left the restaurant. He's late, maybe he's not coming after all, maybe it's for the best that they don't do this. She had almost left but she didn't. Dr. Lisa Cuddy was never one to shy away from facing things head-on.

Before her fears could propel her to her feet, Wilson arrived. And smiled. That is all it takes for Cuddy to realize just how damn much she missed him.

"James." She whispered in his ear, standing to give him a long hug.

"Lisa." He replied, holding her tighter, and she knew he missed her too.

They spoke about Rachel and her new position at the University of Michigan Hospital. They talked about already-booked travel plans and his thymoma.

"You weren't at the funeral." Wilson casually mentioned, as if House isn't the obvious and eager trumpeting elephant in the room.

Cuddy bowed her head. "It wasn't about me. It was about House. And you." She conceded. "My being there would have just…" She waved her hands as if to wash away the thought.

"Thank you." In all honesty, the funeral would have been that much harder to bear had Cuddy been there, but… "He would have wanted you there."

Cuddy wanted to scoff. If there even was an afterlife, House would be too pissed off that he was wrong to waste time taking attendance of his funeral. But something about the way Wilson said it reminded her of the thousands of times they had had similar conversations and Wilson had attempted to protect House. But what good was trying to protect a dead man? Unless…

No. Her eyes widened. "Wilson!"

Wilson laughed inwardly. Of course she had unravelled it all based off one sentence. Astute to every detail and their underlying meaning, especially when it came to him. Wilson couldn't hide anything from House or Cuddy, not when it mattered most. There was a reason he had loved them both and though he had always thought it was their differences maybe it was that which made them the same that drew him back every time. Even now he couldn't fathom dying without seeing Cuddy's precious smile.

"Are you really surprised?" Wilson shrugged. If anyone they knew was going to fake their death…

"But why?" Cuddy sputtered, lowering her voice. She would be able to accept any how, but it was the reason that eluded her.

"House was given six months jail time for vandalism. I only have five. You do the math."

Cuddy was amazed. "He did it for you."

Wilson blushed slightly, but did not deny.

"His job, his puzzles." She knew that House was – is – the most unpredictable man she has ever known but even she didn't expect this. It was bitter knowing that it had taken a terminal diagnosis, but it seemed change was possible after all.

Her face softened as her brain finally worked through the revelation. "You deserve it." She said warmly. "Both of you."

Wilson felt a tug at his heart, nostalgia for the days when it had been just the three of them scheming, bickering, healing, pranking, hating, loving. Living. He had half the mind to invite Cuddy on his and House's grand tour but bit his tongue. Far too much had happened since those days.

"Do you ever miss it?" He asked wistfully, uncaring if she found his sentiments absurd.

Cuddy squared her shoulders. "Yes." She admitted. "I wish…" She took Wilson's hands in her own. "There is so much I wish was not true."

Wilson walked her to her car – ever the gentleman even in the face of impending death – and this time planted a quick kiss on her lips.

"Cuddy, I leave for my cross-country trek day after tomorrow. You're in town for one more day. At least come and see me again before you leave."

He didn't need to say for one last time the words are strong and clear.

"Okay." She acquiesced. Cuddy needed more of Wilson to hold on to before he leaves her forever. She knew now that she will never have enough.

"Good morning." House greeted blithely, stretched out on Wilson's couch.

"Don't pretend you don't know where I was last night." Wilson admonished. He thought House was done playing games.

"Oh, of course I know you were with Cuddy." House shrugged as if this was completely acceptable and expected.

"And you have nothing to say?"

"She's your friend. Gotta do the goodbye rounds before the last bow."

"You never have nothing to say." Wilson reminded.

House remained silent.

"She doesn't hate you."

House refused to react.

"You don't hate her either."

House grimaced this time. "…I never hated her."

As if on cue the front door opened. "Wilson, are you home? You didn't answer your –"

Cuddy made her way through the foyer and then immediately halted in her tracks. "Oh."

To her credit, Cuddy reacted fairly well to finding a dead man lounging on the couch. Wilson was impressed.

House sat up. "Wilson, honey, did you forget to tell me we were having guests over?" He quipped sarcastically, narrowing his eyes.

"He's sitting on your couch and no one has clued in yet?" Cuddy snorted.

"We're discreet." Wilson explained simply. "And just so you know you two can talk to each other. He's not actually a ghost."

House and Cuddy eyed each other warily, bathed in sheer silence and uncertainty.

Finally, Cuddy sighed. "I'm glad you're not dead."

House rolled his eyes at the statement. "Well doesn't that just warm the ol' cockles?"

"House…" Wilson warned and Cuddy noticed how House had the decency to look apologetic.

"She got me thrown in jail." He complained to Wilson with a pout.

"You drove a car through her home." Wilson shot back without missing a beat. "Now play nicely."

"I tell you that I love you once and suddenly you expect me to be your lap dog?" House grumbled indignantly.

Cuddy again to her credit barely batted an eye. Even House was sufficiently impressed.

"What was the purpose of inviting me over, Wilson? You actually expected him to not be an ass?"

"He wants to witness that infamous Dean of Medicine-Head of Diagnostics sexual tension one last time." House finally addressed Cuddy. "Too bad that's not who we are anymore. Foreman and Chase have some big shoes to fill, but I believe in them!"

"Foreman doesn't have the cleavage for it." Cuddy scoffed.

"Typical." House overdramatized his disgust. "Always bringing the black man down. I for one believe that Foreman's manboobs will bring justice!"

Cuddy failed at biting back a grin.

Wilson smiled. "This is what I want. You two just being you. Forget all that other shit that went down. It doesn't matter now, does it? One last night, the three of us."

And then it's all over for good.

"So what is this, straight for a night?" House asked in an accusatory tone.

Wilson shook his head. "Civil for a night."

Cuddy sighed, letting the exasperation and confusion roll off of her in waves.

"Think of it as a dying man's wish."

"Manipulative bitch." House muttered at Wilson, but Cuddy had already taken a seat.

"He learned from the best." Cuddy noted.

House gave a little half-bow. "Thank you, I'm here all night. Against my own will, even."

"If I'm spending the night with my dying friend and my crazy ex who crashed through my house someone is going to have to give me alcohol. Lots of alcohol."

"You sure alcohol will make dealing with us better?" Wilson quirked an eyebrow in amusement.

"Besides, Cuddy, why do you need alcohol? I'm the one who has to repress all of the terrifying things you did to me in the sack."

"Hey, if I can get over the things you made me do, House, anyone can." Wilson retorted lightly. This time Cuddy actually did giggle.

House felt himself sink into the couch, relaxing. He loved this straightforward no-bullshit all-cards-on-the-table Wilson and this surprisingly accepting-and-laidback Cuddy. He could have sworn it was all just a fevered dream if his leg didn't still hurt.

"I hope you both know I have no intentions of sleeping with either of you tonight, no matter how much alcohol you ply me with." Cuddy stated resolutely.

"It's not what you intend, it's what your sex-deprived libido makes you do." House corrected.

Cuddy ignored House. "But if you two want to have a go at it, I am prepared to observe." She said. "For purely academic reasons." She added with a straight face.

House leered and Wilson's eyes sparkled. "God, I have missed you."

"I'm not enough man for you, Jimmy?" House pouted.

"This is nice." Cuddy said with a glassy look. "It's almost like…"

"You can forget I almost killed you and a tumour is going to succeed in killing him?" House asked glibly, jerking a thumb in Wilson's direction.

"Yeah…" Cuddy agreed in a faraway voice.

"She is so far gone." Wilson chuckled, opening another beer for himself.

"Remember that time you guys went to an erotic art exhibit?" House announced out of the blue.

"And then we slept together." Wilson said.

"Seriously?!" House gawked.

"God, House, do you ever not fall for that?"

"But, c'mon, you guys must have slept together at least once." House insisted.

Wilson looked at Cuddy but neither said a word.

"I knew it." House drawled, stretching out his limbs like a restless cat. "All this sexual tension is making me horny, someone needs to take off their shirt."

"I vote Cuddy." Wilson spoke up.

"They just don't know how to appreciate a nice pair of breasts in Michigan like they do here." Cuddy noted.

"Are we only going to talk about sex?" Wilson asked, not really caring.

"Sure, because it's better than the alternative." Cuddy suggested. "It's just too hard."

"That's what she said." House agreed, grinning childishly as Cuddy rolled her eyes.

"You know, you're awfully juvenile for a dead guy."

"Being dead isn't what it used to be."

"At least you're still pretty hot for a dead person."

House and Cuddy both gave him odd looks, but said nothing.

Wilson blinked. "That came out differently than I expected."

"That's what she said."

Cuddy snorted in spite of herself.

"So, drunk sex is still on the table?" House joked.

"Drunk sex is always on the table." Wilson deadpanned. He wandered into the kitchen to find some appropriately mind-numbing drinks.

Wilson wasn't naïve. He didn't expect any happy endings for any of them. Didn't expect House and Cuddy to reunite after he was gone. For once it wasn't about them, it was about him. They were doing this for him.

Wilson grinned mischievously to himself as he pondered just how much he might be able to get them to do.