Hi, viewers. Here is 1.14 – Control. I'm supposed to be working on my essay right now. I actually am. I have another widow opened. There's just a lot going on in the essay, so I wanted to do something else while I'm listening to Forget You on the radio. I figure I can type some for each thing during each song/commercial break. Sound good? Alright, on with this. By the way, it's no longer February. It's March, approximately the tenth.

Notice from before stands to claim.

Carly, a thirty-something woman is lying in a bed at PPTH. On the other side of the hospital, House walks into the Diagnostic offices.

"Twenty-one-year-old female, paralysis and severe pain in her right quad. Go."

Foreman raises an eyebrow. "How'd she get to you?"

"She's the CEO of Sonyo Cosmetics. Three assistants and fifteen VPs checked out who should be treating her. Who da man? I da man. I always suspected."

Cameron frowns. "Dr. House, I know the chances are very slim, but I'm sure you recognize that she may have what you had: a clot in her thigh."

Chase coughs. "A bit of a long shot."

Foreman decides to work on it. "What about a disc herniation?"

Cameron turns to him. "I don't know, Eric. If her disc were herniated, she'd present with pain elsewhere, wouldn't she?"

At this point, Foreman is looking at Cameron like she's an alien, Chase is looking at her like she's something on the bottom of his shoe, and House is looking at the whole thing with mild interest.

"Yeah, I suppose." Foreman, breaks off.

"You're right, a clot's also the most deadly, right, Robert?"

Chase flinches. "True. The clot breaks off, she could stroke and die."

He looks at House questioningly. House simply purses his lips.

"Dr. House, I believe that they're right, and –"

"Stop talking."

"What?"

"You read one of those negotiating books, didn't you? "Getting to Yes: Fifty Ways to Win an Argument." "The Hitchhiker's Guide to Being a Pal." In five seconds you just manipulated these two into agreeing with your point of view." While Chase and Foreman look defensive, House barrels through. "Fellas, this is known as "soft positional bargaining."" He turns to Cameron. "It's not gonna work."

"Dr. House, are you saying that she doesn't have a clot or are you saying that if she does have a clot she doesn't need blood thinners and an angiogram?"

House decides to humor her. "Chase, put her on blood thinners, do an angiogram." Cameron looks triumphant, and House continues. "When that comes back negative, MRI the spine. If that's clean, cut her open and biopsy the leg."

Cameron's grins falters only somewhat. "Excellent suggestion."

"Read less, more TV."

In a conference room in the hospital, Cuddy is addressing the board of directors (including Wilson, as he is the head of his department).

"It's rare for an individual to make a donation significant enough to impact an organization as large and unwieldy as a hospital. This donation does come with one string: that he be made Chairman of the Board. I think that's a reasonable request. I think he should have the right to know what it is we do with his $100 million. Please welcome our new Chairman of the Board, Edward Vogler."

All the board members clap as Vogler takes the stage.

"Thank you, thank you. When I was eighteen, my dad loaned me $20,000 for a college tuition which he would have known was a mistake had he known that I wasn't actually in college." The board members politely chuckle. "I took his money and invested in a friend who had a little business, and when my dad found out what I had done with his money, he and I didn't talk much after that. But my friend's business took off, and I used the profits from that to buy another company, and another, and I must have been pretty good at it, had a good eye, because before I knew it people were making offers for my company. And, uh, about a year ago I went public and overnight I was worth a billion dollars. So I went to see my dad."

The board members politely chuckle again, and Cuddy looks to Wilson. He only sort of smiles, really not wanting to be here. "I'll admit, I wanted a little payback, you know, kind of shove the wind in his face, so I went upstate and sat in the kitchen I grew up in and, uh, he had no reaction. It wasn't his fault, he didn't even know who I was. Because his Alzheimer's had taken a turn for the worse, despite the best drugs and care out there, and that is why I'm here. What if my contribution to this hospital is the difference between no cure and a cure for cancer? The difference between a man not recognizing his wife of thirty-five years and being able to look at her and say, "Good morning, honey. I love you.""

Wilson now looks pensive and a little sad. Vogler continues. "If there's a disease out there killing people, I am writing you a blank check to fight back." He smiles widely. "So, things are going to change, a lot."

The board claps. Wilson is the last one to start clapping, and it's very subdued. Later, in the x-ray room, Carly is on the table and still punching messages into her Blackberry.

Chase holds out his hand. "I'm gonna have to ask you for the cell phone."

"Do what you need to do, I'm okay."

"Pretty sure my x-ray machine can take your phone in a fight. It'll fry it."

Carly grumbles, handing it over. "Fine."

Jenny, the eighteen-year-old radiologist, turns to Chase. "How old is she?"

"Twenty-one."

Jenny is impressed. "Wow. She's already the CEO of a public company."

"She's a workaholic. Okay Carly, hold still. The x-ray machine is gonna pass over your leg."

"Okay."

"What'd you do with your time off?" Jenny questions the fifteen-year-old.

"Snowboarding in Gstaad."

"Switzerland!"

"Do you ski or board? You can come with, if you like."

"Maybe we should start with a drink before we go 'round the world." Jenny winks.

"Oh, you want to have a drink with me?" She hits him and he laughs. "Oooh, very aggressive! I like that."

The x-ray commences. Downstairs, Vogler and Cuddy walking in the hallways.

"I want to run this place like a business."

"What, you want to put more vending machines in the hallway? Maybe a roulette wheel?"

Vogler doesn't smile. "Nice one. But I'm serious. The product that you're selling is good health, it shouldn't be a tough sell. You don't want to sell, it means people don't care about your product. You care if people are healthy, or are you too proud for that?"

Cuddy stops in her tracks and looks insulted. Vogler pays her no mind and peers into an office. "Who's that?" He looks almost disgusted to see Dr. House playing with a yo-yo.

"That's, uh, just one of our doctors." She blushes lightly.

"Aren't doctors supposed to wear lab coats?" House lifts his head slightly to eavesdrop.

"He's… different."

"Everyone's buddy." Vogler deadpans.

Ha! As if! "No, not exactly."

"Then why does he get away with it?"

"It's just a coat. He's very good."

"Hmm." He responds, walking off.

Half an hour later, House is in the clinic, giving a strep test to a young boy.

"Say "ah"."

"Ah."

"No, really belt it out, like you're gonna throw up."

"Ahhhhh!"

The six-year-old named Ricky coughs in House's face.

House blinks, standing up. "Perfect. Okay, that's it. We should know in a couple of days what's growing in your son's throat." The dad doesn't say anything in response. "Hello?"

"He can't talk."

"Excuse me?"

"He had knee surgery."

"Right…"

"About a year ago, and then he couldn't talk."

"Right, yeah, well, that happens. You know, it's very dangerous operating so close to the vocal chords. Okay, well, we'll send your kid's culture to the lab and somebody will call you." As he's leaving, he turns and shouts, "BOO!"

"Aahhh!" Ricky screams, falling on his butt. The dad looks frightened, but doesn't say anything.

House feels a bit embarrassed. "Just wanted to see if your dad, uh, sorry." He leaves.

A while later, Cuddy and House are getting out of the elevator.

"I need you to wear your lab coat."

House stares at her. "I need two days of outrageous sex with someone obscenely younger than you. Like Chase's age."

"Wear the coat."

"Man oh man. Someone got spanked real good this morning."

"Guy gives $100 million to cure cancer, pretty small concession to wear a lab coat."

"Cure cancer." House repeats. "Is the hospital getting out of the dull business of treating patients?"

"You know that's not what he's doing."

"I know exactly what he's doing. He's using us to run clinical trials."

"Oh, shame on him! Saving lives like that!"

House enters his office, rolling his eyes as Cuddy follows. "It's unethical. Oh, are you coming in, too? I thought I had you convinced."

"Clinical trials save thousands of lives."

"He's using patients as guinea pigs."

"Pharmaceutical companies do that every day."

"Are we a pharmaceutical company? We're gonna wind up pressuring desperate patients into choices that are bad for them, good for us. You're gonna compromise patient care."

"Who the hell am I talking to? Suddenly ethical lapses are a major concern for you?"

House relaxes behind his desk. "What's interesting is it suddenly doesn't bother you."

"So, if you ignore ethics to save one person it's admirable, but if you do it to save a thousand you're a bastard. All he's done is taken your game and gone pro."

House narrows his eyes. "He's not going to kill a few patients. He's going to kill this hospital."

"It took him three seconds to size you up, and surprise? He doesn't like you. Wear the damn coat."

Meanwhile, Foreman had enters Carly's room. Carly had been curled up on her side.

"Hello. I'm Dr. Foreman, I work with Dr. House. Our initial tests say you're fine. We think you may have had a clot but it resolved on its own, so we're gonna keep you overnight to be safe and you can go back home tomorrow. Or, back to work. Hey, you okay."

Carly whimpers in pain, clutching her leg. Foreman runs to the other side of the bed. Then she screams in pain. A nurse nervously walks in and Foreman shouts to her. "Get in here! I need a line in her, IV morphine, stat!"

House enters the Diagnostic offices as the fellows flow to the table. Chase asks the room a question as a whole.

"Get any read on the new Chairman of the Board?"

Foreman nods. "Yeah, he took your parking space."

Cameron's mouth twitches. "It's not necessarily bad news."

Foreman looksa t her. "Do you ever watch "Gilligan's Island" reruns and really, really think they're gonna get off the island this time?"

"We should introduce ourselves. It couldn't hurt."

House gets coffee. "Make him a bundt cake. Patient hit a ten on the pain scale. What would explain that?"

Chase turns back to professional mode. "There was no clot in her leg, the angio was totally clean."

"What about the muscle biopsy?"

"No neurogenic or myopathic abnormalities."

"She's also negative for trichinosis, no toxoplasmosis or polyarteritis nodosa." Foreman adds.

"Robert, what was her sedimentation rate?"

"Normal, Allison, therefore no inflammation, no immunologic response."

"Do you mind sharing that number with me?"

Foreman and Chase try to stop from smiling. "Fifteen, Allison."

"Are you mocking me?"

Foreman snorts. "Duh, Allison."

"I'm just suggesting we look outside the box. What if her sed rate is elevated?"

"Well, let's go further outside the box. Let's say the angio revealed a clot, and let's say we treated that clot, and now she's all better, and personally thanked me by performing –"

Cameron tilts her head, interrupting Chase. "My Aunt Elisa lives in Philiadelphia."

House squees sarcastically. "Oh, it's storytime! Let me get my baba."

"Her normal temperature is 96.2, not 98.6 like you and me. If her temperature were 98.6, she'd have a fever. I'm just wondering if you think we could apply the same logic to Carly's sed rate."

Huh. Like the pain scale. My 7 would be like Wilson's 12. Cool. "That's absurd. I love it."

"If fifteen is high for Carly, then she has inflammation."

"Which could, in turn, mean cancer. I'll talk to Wilson. Next time, skip Aunt Elisa."

House meets Wilson in the hallway.

"You're probably talking about a primary bone cancer." Wilson acknowledges. "Can be tricky to detect, you'll need a bone scan –"

"That's why I'm talking to an oncologist."

"Sure, I've nothing better to do besides departmental meetings and budget reports… new Chairman of the Board, you know."

"Oh! I hadn't heard." Why are you forsaking me, Wilson?

"Right. Clinical trials…"

"Completely unethical."

"And a very bad omen for you. There's not much money in curing African sleeping sickness."

"No, I have seen every scary movie ever made. Six-year-old twins in front of an elevator of blood, boys' choirs: those are bad omens." Why can't he just sleep with Cuddy and be done with it? "This is much more mundane: a billionaire wants to get laid."

"Billionaires buy movie studios to get laid. They buy hospitals to get respect."

House smirks. "And the reason you want respect?"

"To… get laid."

"Okay then. You've just gotta think like a billionaire." Wilson genuinely smiles for the first time all day. "Let's see, big scary changes, and then, "Oh, Dr. Cameron, we should have dinner to discuss your future on my G-5 private jet.""

"Oh, come on. You know how good you have it here."

House grins. "Yes, I'm the big poobah, the big cheese, the go-to guy."

"You do the cases you want to do, when you want to do them. You're not going to get that anywhere else."

"Relax, I've been through three regime changes in this hospital. Every time, same story."

"Just keep your head down, that's all I'm saying. And put on your coat."

"It itches, Jimmy!"

Wilson sighs and walks away. House calls after him. "So, are you going to do this bone scan for me or what?"

"Yes." Wilson calls over his shoulder.

House throws a Vicodin up in the air and catches it in his mouth. Close to an hour later, House is falling asleep in a certain office, with his yo-yo still in his hand. When the door to said office closes, House snaps to attention.

"Dr. Simpson! Did you hear? New management. I'm thinking about switching to orthopedics. How much do you guys get for massage now, without the happy ending?"

Simpson pinches the bridge of his nose. "Dr. House, what do you want?"

"You remember a guy named Van Der Meer? Not a big talker. You fixed his ACL."

"Well, not according to my medical malpractice premiums."

"Didn't get hypertensive during surgery? No strokes? Maybe some connectivity loss?"

"What, you're going to get involved now?"

"I'm not involved. Guy brought his son into the clinic."

"I didn't touch the son. I'm not taking any responsibility there."

House rolls his eyes. "The son's fine. Can't shut him up. The dad show any signs of cortical disease? Wernicke's?"

"No. Nothing. And that's why we settled; because we couldn't find anything. The guy got over a million dollars, don't tell me he's complaining."

"He's not saying "boo"."

As House explains the condition of the clinic patient to Dr. Simpson, Carly and her secretary Robin are conducting business in her hospital room.

"Your father wants to know when you'll be back from your trip."

"Email back. "It's taking longer than I thought." He doesn't need to see me like this."

"What about your brother?"

"No." Carly refuses as Wilson enters.

"Hello. I'm Dr. Wilson. I was –"

"Robin, I'm going to need a minute."

Robin unquestioningly collects all of the papers off of Carly's bed and hurries out. Carly thanks her as she leaves. Wilson shuts the door and Carly starts talking.

"There are two Dr. Wilsons in the hospital. One in ophthalmology and one in cancer." Wilson sits and she keeps going. "My eyes are fine, so you're here to tell me I have cancer."

"There's no cancer in your bone."

"You're not smiling."

"There's something called referred pain. You could have cancer in one part of your body that presents in another. Given your age and your family history, I'm thinking your colon."

"I was at Columbia when my mom died. Now there's a blast. Cleaning up her vomit and running to my econ final. Look, if I'm a short-timer give me drugs, I'll go back to work. I'll die there."

"Whoa. There's a quick test to see if you even have it, a colonoscopy."

She shakes her head. "I know how you do that test."

"If you have colon cancer, we can treat it, it's early."

"That's what they told my mom. She was dead six months later."

"You're a smart person about to make a very bad decision. You know, cancer treatment's come a long way in twelve years, but if you don't do this now –"

"I don't want to be looked at!"

Wilson bites his lip. "There is another way. We could do a virtual colonoscopy. Basically, we do a CT scan of your colon. It's non-invasive, but it's very expensive. I assume that's not a problem." Carly just looks at him. "Say yes."

Thankfully, she finally relents. In the clinic, House enters a room with Dad Van der Meer.

"Mr. Van Der Meer." He pauses as the dad is typing on his laptop. "What?" Van der Meer types "wHats werong gwith ricky". House rolls his eyes, walking behind the man. He digs in a drawer. "Relax, Ricky's going to be just "finkf". Strep throat, here's a prescription for an antibiotic. He should be all better in a few days. Although, House turns around wielding a needle. "This might sting a little." He approaches the dad, who looks frightened. House looks up to the ceiling, and when the dad looks up, House injects him in the neck. With a bit of an evil smile, House meets Van der Meer's gaze. "I want to see you again real soon."

An hour and a half later, Wilson and House are walking in a hallway.

"Virtual colonoscopy was clean. No colon cancer."

"What happened to a regular old-fashioned colonoscopy?"

"She was uncomfortable doing any more tests! I had to convince her to do that one!"

"Do you get that often? Women would rather die than get naked with you?"

Wilson sighs, wondering what clinic patient has been bothering his friend. "She's scared."

"But not of tests. Just embarrassing ones."

"Yeah."

House takes it into consideration, immediately leaving for his office. Wilson shrugs and heads to his office. House rushes in, looking over at Chase. Chase had been in House's chair, but he immediately jumps up, shifting the imaging on the desk.

"It's not an inflammatory process, it's not a clot because Chase's angio says so, and it's not cancer because her toosh is perfect. Anybody else got an Aunt Elisa with weird stuff?" He looks at the angiogram.

Cameron has an idea. "Maybe it's worth looking into –"

"I thought you said Carly's angio was clean."

"It was clean."

Chase defends as House puts the scans up on his light board.

"You guys see the problem here?"

Foreman gets up to get a closer look. "There's no indication of any abnormalities. No lesions, no spurs, no masses –"

"Her toes are screwed up. They're backwards. Do you guys know how much surgery it's going to take to swap them back?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Either she literally has two left feet or you angio-ed the wrong leg."

Chase gets up to look. "That's impossible. It can't be the wrong –"

House glares. "Or maybe it was Jenny! How come some resident signed this radiology form? Were you even in the damn room?"

"I'll redo her angio straight away –"

"You'll do nothing! Foreman, you do the angiogram."

"I can't believe I did that."

Foreman leaves to perform the new angiogram..

"Why do we have to redo the angiogram?"

Foreman lies easily. "There was a shadow on the first test."

"A shadow? A shadow means there could be a blood clot, right? I read Conn's Current Therapy."

"Real page turner. No, it's not that kind of shadow."

"My chest hurts."

"It's from the tracer I injected. Might also get a little nauseous, or have a metallic taste, all normal."

Carly doesn't think so. "I'm a runner. I shouldn't feel like this."

"Carly, I'm looking at your vitals right now, and –"

"I… can't… breathe." The twenty-one-year-old starts to choke.

"Carly?"

"My chest…" She wheezes.

Foreman grabs his stethoscope and listens to her lungs. The machines begin to beep. A tech who'd been walking by rushes in.

"Respiratory arrest, call the code."

The tech turns to him. "What've you got?"

"She's drowning."

Carly starts to flail. With the tech's help, Foreman begins draining Carly's lungs. Meanwhile, House is looking at the white board in his office. Cameron walks in to talk to him once Carly's lungs are drained of the excess fluids.

"Foreman did a thoracentesis to drain the fluid from her lungs. They sent the fluid to the lab, it'll be back in a few hours. You'll be happy to know that Chase's mistake didn't cost her. Angio revealed no clot."

House barely pays her any mind. "I'm thrilled."

Cameron leaves. House is still staring at the white board. While thinking, he twirls his cane and throws his ball. He ends up erasing the board with Carly's physical symptoms, and starts to write her psych symptoms. The rest of the day passes into night. House doesn't notice and he doesn't sleep. Sometime after midnight, Carly is asleep. House comes over to her bed. He lifts the sheet over her right thigh, revealing a series of scar marks from cutting. Wilson comes in at seven-thirty, briefly acknowledging House asleep at his desk. At nine o'clock, Wilson is reviewing charts outside. House comes up to him and taps his cane on the table.

"Okay, see, now you're just being stubborn. It's cold. It's a perfectly good excuse to wear your lab coat."

"Carly needs a heart transplant."

hmm, no sarcasm. Serious. "Thoracentesis revealed a transudate?"

"Haven't gotten it back yet."

"Her MUGA scan, what was the ejection fracture? Maybe you could treat it, surgically."

"Haven't done the MUGA."

"How do you know she needs a heart transplant?"

"I got my aura read today. It said someone close to me had a broken heart."

Wilson narrows his eyes, feeling a little defensive. "Since when do I need the secret pass code to talk to you?"

"I can't tell you anything. Professional responsibility."

Wilson scoffs. "Like that matters to you."

"Not my professional responsibility, yours. New regime, you gotta keep your head down, too."

"Now, that's good thinking, because I was going to go right to Cuddy and rat you out as soon as you were done talking."

House exhales, dropping the act. "I'm not saying you want to, I'm saying you'd be obligated to."

Um, wow. Wasn't expecting that. "Because of my position on the Board?" House looks at him but says nothing. "Because of my position on the transplant committee?" House still says nothing. "Hey, you brought this up for a reason. You need to talk to me."

"I can't."

Damn. He's actually doing it the right way. He's right. "You sure you're doing the right thing?"

"I've come up with a few really great rationalizations."

Chase and Cameron walk up, disrupting the conversation.

"Sorry to interrupt." Chase pulls him away. "We have a problem."

"Thoracentesis revealed a transudate." Wilson looks amazed as Cameron explains. "We did an echo. She's in severe congestive heart failure. She needs a heart transplant. We'll get her on the list immediately –"

"She's already on the list."

Half an hour later, at Cuddy's office, Vogler knocks on the door.

"Come in."

"Thanks. What is a "Department of Diagnostic Medicine"?"

"That's Dr. House's department. They deal with cases that other doctors can't figure out."

He sits in the chair on the other side of her desk. "It's a financial black hole. Department costs us $3 million a year, treat one patient a week."

"He saves one patient per week."

"What about everyone else? His department's not going to find the cure for breast cancer."

"Uh, maybe not, but –"

"Are you sleeping with House?"

Cuddy is a bit shocked. "What? No."

"But you did, right? A long time ago?"

Cuddy chokes on her saliva. One time, in tenth grade. What the hell? "That's an incredibly inappropriate question."

"If your judgment is compromised by prior or current relationship, that is my business."

"I respect him,and that is all you need to know."

"He's still not wearing a coat."

"Well, I told him –"

"I'm sure you did. And yet, he's not wearing it. I'm just wondering if that's a reflection on him, or on you."

Cuddy gives a grimace-type-smile. Meanwhile, Hosue walks into Carly's room.

"You're Dr. House. I found a picture of you online at a conference –"

He interrupts her. "You need a heart transplant."

Carly is taken aback. "I run, I work out, I –"

"You cut yourself. Probably highly ritualized. You play the same Sarah MacLaughlin song over and over while you do it, probably works better than anti-depressants."

"I don't understand how that has to –"

"You're a high-powered bulimic. You make yourself throw up. You have to find the most efficient way to vomit without revealing the tell-tale signs of bulimia, which is all, eugh. Very unseemly, for a CEO. So, you found a common antidote for accidental poisoning to do the job: ipecac. Which is great, if your kid's just swallowed a bottle of aspirin, but really, really bad if it's a habit. It causes muscle damage. It caused the pain in your leg. And it destroyed your heart. How often do you do it?"

Carly looks dwn at her hands. "Three times a week."

"In about an hour, there's going to be an emergency meeting of the transplant committee to discuss where you fall on the list should a new heart become available. Problem is, I am required to tell the committee of your bulimia, it's a major psychiatric condition. Ranks right up there with suicidal, makes you a very bad risk."

"So you're here to tell me I have just a few hours to live?"

"Unless I lie to the committee. But if they find out, I lose my medical license. This would be a very good time to offer me a bribe. How much is your life worth, how much is my job worth –"

"Why are you here doing this to me? What do you want?"

"I want to know what's right."

"Am I worth it? You think I'm pathetic. Has a good job, everything in the world, but she just doesn't like the way that she looks –"

"Oh, stop hiding!" Carly looks taken aback yet again, only moreso at his yelling. "I'm asking you if you want to live or die, you can't even say that!"

"What do you want me to do? Cry?"

"Yes! I want you to tell me that your life is important to you, because I don't know! Because that's what's on the table right now: your life."

He turns to leave; Carly grabs his arm. She's crying now. "I don't want to die. I don't."

An hour later, House is sitting in front of the transplant committee.

"This twenty-one-year-old female was admitted by my staff because of paralysis and pain in her right thigh. Patient rapidly deteriorated and now has severe congestive heart failure. Pressers and vasodilators have not improved her conditions whatsoever. Pulmonary function tests show an FVC of over 3 liters with EDD-1 of at least 90% of predicted. And preserved FEB/FEC ratio and preserved DLCO as well. Her MUGA had an ejection fraction of 19% with no focal wall or motion abnormalities. Heart catheterization revealed clean left, right and circumflex arteries, and subsequent biopsy revealed irreversible cardiomyopathy. Which is why we're here."

Cuddy is the first to speak. "Uh, Dr. House, I'm confused by your time and date stamps. It appears that you put Carly on the transplant list before you did these tests."

"I had a hunch."

"You don't have hunches. You know."

"Look, if the tests had come back differently, obviously I would have taken her off the lists, but on the long shot…" He pauses as Vogler walks in and takes a seat on the sidelines. "On the long shot I was right, I didn't want to waste time."

"Is there any exclusion criteria we should know about?"

"CAT scan revealed no tumors and Dr. Wilson found no trace of cancer."

"What about any other criteria?"

"No atherosclerotic vascular disease –"

"Are there any –"

"No pneumonia, no bacteriemia, no Hep-B or C or any other letters."

"Substance abuse? Any history of –"

"No alcohol, no drugs."

"Any psychiatric conditions, history of depression –"

"She's a little blue, but turns out she needs a heart transplant."

Cuddy glances at Vogler, who gives her a pointed look. "Dr. House, if you subvert or mislead this committee, you will be subject to disciplinary action."

House narrows his eyes. "Dr. Cuddy, do you have any reason to think that I would lie?"

"I simply want you to answer the question! Is there anything on the recipient exclusion criteria that would disqualify your patient from getting a heart?"

House makes a point to look at Wilson and Vogler before answering. "No."

That night, at eleven-thirty, House is looking through his office window. It's raining ouside. Wilson walks in with his hands on his hips.

House doesn't turn around. "Beautiful organ donor weather."

Wilson sighs in his best confrontation voice. "You lied, didn't you?"

"I never lie." House responds sarcastically. Well, I never lie to you.

"Big mistake."

"Then you should have voted against putting her on the list."

I couldn't do that. "You're my friend."

That's nice. Hy does it make me mad? "Oh, jeez. Have some backbone. If you think I'm wrong, do something."

Is that why you looked at me in there? Did you want me to challenge you? "Wait, you're getting mad at me for sticking up for you?"

No, I just… I'm glad we're friends. "You value our friendship more than your ethical responsibilities."

Obviously. I value it over my possible marriage. "Our friendship is an ethical responsibility." House's pager beeps. House reads it and Wilson is anxious. "What is it?"

"My patient's getting a heart."

House and Wilson walk to the observation for the OR. The surgeon making the first cut for the transplant. While this is happening, Jenny has come with Chase and Foremn to the Diagnostics office. Cameron has already gone home. Chase is staring out at the rain.

"He's not gonna fire you." Jenny assures him.

Foreman snorts. "I'd fire you. Bye bye."

Chase doesn't look away from the rain. "If I screw up, the patient dies… I'll never get another job."

"So go stick your head between your legs and lick your wounds in Stadt."

"Well, I like it here. You guys don't think it's weird House knew the patient needed a heart transplant before we did any heart tests?"

Jenny shrugs. "That's House. He knows things."

"But usually, he's putting it in our face, telling us how cleverly he figured it out. This time, nothing. Just "I had a hunch.""

Foreman nods. "It is weird."

At one a.m., Chase is looking through Carly's hospital room. He goes through her magazines, her purse, and he finds the bottle of ipecac. At one-thirty, the surgeons inject Carly's heart, and the machines begin flatlining. Cameron is called in. She is sitting in House's office at two-thirty when the older teenager walks in.

"They just stopped Carly's heart. And your dumb patient –"

"They're all – oh, the guy who can't talk."

"Mr. Van Der Meer, he scheduled an appointment to see you."

"Oooh, goody." House tries not to yawn.

"I wanted you to know Chase is worried you're going to fire him."

"It's bad enough that screw-ups cost lives. Now we've got Vogler, screw-ups cost jobs. I want Chase scared. I want him doing everything he can to protect his job."

"Dr. House, if you were in his position wouldn't you be more likely to perform well if you were reassured and –"

"Oh, will you stop it with the book! Why are you doing this?"

"I'm not doing anything." She protests.

"You're manipulating everyone."

Cameron looks own at her feet. "People… dismiss me. Because I'm a woman, because I'm pretty, because I'm not aggressive. My opinions shouldn't be rejected just because people don't like me."

"They like you. Everyone likes you."

He starts to walk away but Cameron's voice calls out..

"Do you?" House stares at Cameron blankly. "I have to know."

House: No.

Cameron quietly whispers, "Okay," and she walks away.

The surgeon finally leaves the OR wing. House and Robin are waiting for him in the waiting area, and House playing on his Game Boy. It is nearly five o'clock. House pauses his game and peers down at his watch.

"Five hours, twenty-three minutes, that's fast."

"Is that good or bad?" Robin asks, looking between House and the surgeon.

"It depends. Either surgery went really well, or it ended really abruptly."

The surgeon smiles. "Textbook. She'll outlive us all."

"Thank you."

Later, House walks into the exam room in the clinic. Mr. Van der Meer is waiting for him, with his laptop on hand.

"So, sing for me."

Mr. Van der Meer looks at House, and then grabs his laptop.

House shakes his head. "Oh, no, no, no, no… come on, look. When you had your surgery, you were intubated. Surgeon stuck a tube down your throat. Now, it never happens, and it's never caught, but it happens. Your vocal chords were paralyzed. I treated the spastic dysphonia with Botox. Ironically, a substance that tightens every other corner of your face actually loosens the tongue. I have healed you. You can talk."

Mr. Van der Meer shakes his head.

"Oh, well." House shrugs. He goes to leave, and he turns around sharply. "BOOOO!"

Mr. Van der Meer grasps his laptop in fear, but there's no scream. House nods. "Okay, you don't have to say anything, it can be our little secret. If you can talk, blink twice."

Mr. Van der Meer just stares at House. House smirks slowly. "But you're not going to, because you think you won't be entitled to the money you won in the settlement with Simpson. Yesterday I would have said you'd have to give the money back. Today… hospital's come into a lot of money, mum's the word."

Mr. Van der Meer purposefully blinks twice, and House smiles. Mr. Van der Meer smiles back, and all is cheery in exam room one. At seven a.m., House is sitting by Carly's bed, and pokes her awake with his cane.

"Hey."

"Hey." She smiles.

"I know the cardiologist has given you some guidelines, schedule of medications, and a strict diet: just what someone with an eating disorder needs. So, I thought I'd get you started." He grabs a Styrofoam take-out container. "Fried chicken from the Carnegie Deli."

"You're kidding."

"Yeah. Actually, I got it downstairs."

Carly laughs a bit. "Why did you fight for me? You risked so much, and you hardly know me."

"You're my patient. Don't screw it up."

Carly nods, and House leaves. Minutes later, he's back in his office. The Who's Baba O'Riley is playing through his iPod stereo, and House is playing air synthesizer on his desk, totally rocking out. Vogler walking down the hallway. He starts to air play the piano part, and Vogler walks in his office. House shouts that he loves the part over the music. He switches to air drums… and Vogler reaches over. He turns off the music.

"Okay. He ruined it."

"Just wanted to stop by and introduce myself. I'm Edward Vogler, new Chairman of the Board. In a way, I guess that makes me your boss."

"I am sorry about the lab coat thing. The dry cleaners destroyed it."

Vogler laughs and sits in the Wilson chair, as House mentally calls it. "That was my very first heart transplant meeting, very exciting."

"Trust me. Six Flags, way more exciting."

"Patient's very lucky to have such a passionate doctor who stands up for what he believes in."

"Sweet of you to say."

"Yeah. 'Fraid you've been duped, though." He pulls out the bottle of ipecac from his pocket. "The nurse found this in the patient's purse."

House feigns surprise. "Oh, my. If only I'd known."

"Tough being a doctor. You've got all that power. The power to play God."

"Yes, I don't envy the transplant committee their responsibility. They basically would have been forced to kill that poor girl. I'm not sure I could have done that."

"This is not a game to me, Dr. House."

House lowers his voice. "No. This is actually more like we're dancing right now, so let's get to the point. You don't like me. I'm pretty sure I'm not going to like you. It's nothing personal, I don't like anybody. But none of that really matters, does it? Because you've got money, and I've got tenure. You need full board approval to get rid of me. I've got Cuddy."

"Right…"

"And Wilson." House continues. "So, as long as we're stuck with each other, we might as well ignore each other." He turns on the iPod and out comes Hava Nagila. The music is quickly turned off. "That wasn't nearly as dramatic as I was hoping."

Vogler smiles as he rises to his feet. "I looked into that tenure thing, and you're right. It's actually easier for me to get rid of a board member like Cuddy or Wilson than to get rid of a doctor. That's interesting, isn't it?"

House is left with something to think about. He waits until Vogler is out of sight before he packs up to leave. Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn it!

Hi, there! Thank you for reading this. I hate Vogler so much. Him, and later on, it's Tritter. Tritter, House was getting payback. Vogler, House didn't even do shit. Why are you such a hardass? Alright, that leave you with something to chat about. Please review or at least reread!