Allison Cameron was on the outside, looking in. At any rate, she was outside former President Jed Bartlet's room, looking in through the window. President Bartlet was sleeping peacefully, his heart rate down closer to normal, the movement of his eyes indicating that he was deep in R.E.M. sleep.

She noticed his presence next to her before he even spoke – even after all these years, hearing his unsteady gait or smelling the distinctive combination of whatever soap, deodorant and cologne he wore caused a tingle deep within her. Sixteen years, and it should've gone away, but there was still something about Greg House that excited her.

Such as the way he talked to her now. Perching his chin just above her shoulder, he spoke just loud enough for her to hear. "Remarkable man, isn't he?" he murmured, his breath tickling her ear.

She managed to refrain from gasping in reflex, but had to take a couple of seconds to recover before speaking. "He really is… I wish we could figure out what was wrong with him, though."

"What's your team come up with?"

"A number of things, none of them possible."

"Such as?"

"Lupus, leukemia, toxoplasmosis, pneumonia, congestive heart failure… but none of the symptoms fully line up with any of them."

"May I make a suggestion?"
"Of course," Cameron replied. "You might be old and forgetful, but you're still one of the best diagnosticians in the country."

"Test him to see if his multiple sclerosis has changed to a secondary progressive course."

Cameron's breath caught. "You don't think…"

"It fits all of his symptoms, and would explain the problems with his heart," House said softly. "Surely this is something he's been preparing for since he found out."

Cameron bowed her head. "I'll order the tests."

xXx

"Jed."

He cracked his eyes. "What?" he grumbled.

"The girls are going to be late for school!"

His eyes came all the way open to discover his wife standing impatiently at the foot of his bed. "And?"

"I have to be at the hospital in ten minutes. Get your ass up and get Liz and Ellie to school!"

"Fine, fine," he grumped, rolling himself out of bed. He grabbed a Notre Dame sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, dressed himself sloppily, and went downstairs, hair askew.

"Dad!" Liz complained upon seeing him. "You can't take us to school like that!"

Oh, high school freshmen. They always had something to complain about.

"Oh, quiet, Elizabeth," he replied crankily. "It's not like your friends will see me. I'll stay in the car."

Liz pouted. "I'm riding in the back then."

Jed rolled his eyes skyward. "Heaven save me from teenage girls," he implored of God. Then a sound behind him made him smile.

"Daddy!"

Three year old Zoey came running down the stairs, hell bent on reaching her father. A little bundle of pink fluff topped with brown hair wrapped itself around his right leg. "Zoey!" he boomed, swinging her upward. He wrapped his arms around her and planted a big sloppy kiss on her cheek.

"Eww, you're stinky!" Zoey whined. Abbey, passing through the kitchen on her way out the door, laughed and said, "That's why we should always brush our teeth in the morning, young lady!"

Jed attempted to kiss her good-bye, but Abbey turned her cheek to him. "I trust my daughter's judgment on morning breath, and it seems like you need a date with a Listerine bottle!"

"Have a good day, Doctor Bartlet," Jed snarked, kissing her on the cheek as he attempted to keep Zoey from crawling on top of his head.

"You too… Doctor Bartlet," Abbey replied in a more seductive tone. She opened the door, and then was gone for another day.

Jed sat Zoey down in her high chair… and as he did so, a sharp pain shot through his chest, catching him short of breath. He stood up and clutched his shoulder.

"Daddy, are you alright?" Ellie asked. Concern was etched on Liz's face, and Zoey had turned her wide eyes up toward him.

"Yes, I'm fine – AAHHHH!" he howled, as the pain lanced through him again, sending him to his knees.

"Daddy!" Liz screamed. Zoey started crying, and Ellie was frozen in shock. Pain shot through him again – and again – and again –

xXx

When President Bartlet's heart monitor had started beeping, Cameron had torn her attention away from House for just a moment – long enough to see that his heart rate had started dropping precipitously. Wrenching the door open, she had gone inside, just as every alarm in the room went off.

"Shit!" she shouted. "House! Call a code, get a crash cart! President Bartlet's in v-fib!"

She heard House barking the orders outside as she hit the switches on the defibrillator and prepared an epinephrine injection. Two nurses had joined her in the room within thirty seconds. Grabbing the paddles off the defibrillator, she waited until it signaled that it was charged.

"Clear!" she shouted, placing the paddles against the President's chest. The nurses removed their hands, and the defibrillator activated. President Bartlet's body jumped, but his heartbeat remained flatlined. House observed the monitor. "Nothing."

"Clear!" Cameron yelled again. This time, the charge got a result. "Sinus rhythm," House reported after a moment.

Cameron hung the paddles back up, ordered the nurses to move Bartlet up to the ICU, and stepped back outside the room. House joined her a moment later.

"The cardiac arrest all but confirms it," he said. "His nervous system is failing. His MS has changed to secondary progressive. It's unlikely that he'll leave this hospital."

Cameron bowed her head, fighting back tears. She had been given charge of the care of this great man, and now she would have to give him this diagnosis.

"I don't know if I can tell him," she whispered, sounding like a broken little girl.

She felt a hand under her chin, then he lifted her face up to look at him. "Allison," he said – odd for him, he never called her by her first name, and his voice was unusually gentle. "I'm sorry you have to do this, but you have to be honest with him."

She sighed, tears finding their way down her cheekbones. "How can I tell President Bartlet that he's going to die?"

House's gaze seemed to look through her eyes, into her soul. "You'll find a way. Just be strong."