When Cameron entered the room, she stopped dead.

Sitting on the examination table before her was a man who simply exuded power. Even at seventy-four, his hair gone completely silver and his bifocals thicker than an old Coke bottle, Jed Bartlet still appeared a force to be reckoned with. And she knew that he was exactly that – just six months prior, he had flown to Paris as a last ditch measure to keep France, Germany, and Israel from going full force into Iran. Not only had he succeeded in convincing them to give negotiations a chance, he had also managed to convince Iran to reopen formal diplomatic channels with the United States.

A voice in her ear interrupted her daydream. "Cameron, I do believe you're drooling," House whispered.

Cameron snapped her jaw closed, realizing that she was staring at President Bartlet like a schoolgirl with a crush. It was evident that he could tell as well, given the distinct gleam of humor in his eyes and the subtle smile on his face.

"Mr. President," she began.

Mr. President. Never in her life had she thought she'd actually address one.

"I'm Dr. Allison Cameron, and I'll be conducting your examination."

She took a moment to look over his file. "Temperature 98.2, heartrate 92 – that's a little high, but it's to be expected with an arrhythmia – blood pressure 162 over 99?"

She stopped and looked at the President. "Mr. President, that last one is a bit of a cause for concern."

He nodded and smiled. "Yes, I'm aware. My wife was a doctor, so she told me all about high blood pressure. I'm also aware that the Interferon I've been on for almost thirty years probably has something to do with it, as does the fact that my heart's been acting like a sixty year old Ford engine that hasn't had a tune-up since 1982. Oh, by the way, I'm Jed Bartlet. Pleasure to meet you."

Cameron, realizing that she hadn't given the President the opportunity to introduce himself, flushed bright red. "I'm sorry, Mr. President, I should've given-"

Bartlet cut her off. "Don't worry; it happens on a regular basis. And please, call me Jed."

Cameron's eyebrows shot up. "Uh, Mr. President… I'm not sure –"

"It'll make me feel more comfortable as a patient…"

Cameron sighed. You could always tell the ones who had been married to doctors. They knew better than anybody else how to manipulate doctors. She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

"Greg House, Mr. President," House said. "I'm the Chief of Staff here at Princeton-Plainsborough, and I want to assure you, you're in the BEST of hands with Dr. Cameron. She's always attentive to her patients and will make sure to take care of WHATEVER you need."

With that last statement, he waggled his eyebrows like the dirty old man he was and smirked at Cameron. Cameron sighed and shook her head, wondering for perhaps the fifty thousandth time why she continued to put up with House. Before she could say anything, though –

"Dr. House," President Bartlet said, sounding more than a little cross, "are you implying that I would seek sexual favors from Dr. Cameron? Because if so, then you are sorely mistaken."

"No, not at all!" House replied, mock surprise tingeing his voice. "I was implying that Dr. Cameron might seek sexual favors from you!"

Now Cameron was pissed. With a huff, she turned to glare at House, but again, before she could say anything –

"Dr. House, I might warn you that I am still well liked by the United States Secret Service, who would be more than happy to arrange a vacation for you at, say, Rahway State Prison? Oh yes, and lest I forget, all it would take would be one phone call from me to President Seaborn, and the 82nd Airborne would be remodeling your apartment in what we Washington insiders like to call Army Barracks Chic."

A pleased smirk grew on Cameron's face as she turned back to House, expecting him to look like a chastised little boy. Instead, however, a truly pleasant smile had plastered itself onto his face.

"President Bartlet, I've always heard that you're a skilled debater and excellent in an argument. Having seen it for myself is one of the greatest things I've ever experienced."

Bartlet appeared stunned for a moment, and then he chuckled. "So you're telling me that you said those rather impolite things about Dr. Cameron just to get me to argue with you?"

"Oh, absolutely!" House said. "Cameron can handle it – she's been taking it for sixteen years – and it was certainly worth her looks of murderous wrath to experience the joy of an argument with you."
Bartlet looked thoughtful. "Dr. House, do you play chess?"

"You could say I dabble," House replied, a look of utter glee finding its way to his face.

"Well, if I end up being admitted – as I imagine I probably will be, given my current heart condition – come see me, and we'll see if your chess skills are as finely tuned as your wit."

House nodded, looking like a little boy on Christmas, and said, "Your wish is my command, Mr. President!"

Cameron rolled her eyes. "If you'll excuse me," she interrupted dryly, "I have a patient to examine, and you have a hospital to run, Dr. House."

"No I don't," House replied. "Dr. Cuddy specifically instructed me to make sure that President Bartlet was completely comfortable in every way."

Cameron gritted her teeth. House could be so incredibly frustrating sometimes, but what could she possibly do about it?

That's when President Bartlet came to the rescue. "Dr. House," he said gently, "I do appreciate the concern, but Dr. Cameron seems to be a perfectly competent doctor. I'm sure that you have other things that need to be done."

House was visibly disappointed. "True," he allowed. "I suppose I could go supervise the Diagnostics Department for a while."

Then he perked up. "That actually sounds like a good idea. Terrorize Cameron's fellows and make her life miserable when she returns!"

He turned for the exit. "Pleasure to meet you, Jed! Cameron, please don't kill the President! Or marry him!"

The door swung shut behind him. Cameron rolled her eyes. Honestly. The man was insufferable.