A/N: What an incredibly frustrating weekend, consisting of not much work and of a whole lot of effort trying to get it in. Anyway, here's 51. Send me some reviews; I could use some computer-related good news after the last 2 days.

(H/C)

Sandra was talking to Foreman as they came from the elevator, no doubt expressing her condolences, and that was why Foreman didn't notice Cuddy until they were actually opening the office door. He jerked back a bit sharply, but at that point, he couldn't possibly have dodged the meeting without being obvious. With a mental sigh, he resigned himself to his fate. He had to meet Cuddy sooner or later, after all. All along, he had been looking forward to dealing with her even less than dealing with House.

The two new arrivals entered, and the group stood facing each other in the middle of the office, Foreman and Sandra on one side, Wilson and Cuddy on the other. House thought abruptly that it looked like the moment just prior to tip-off in a basketball game, everybody on their toes and just waiting to spring into action, other than Wilson, who looked like he wanted to sneak out of the circle and quit the game entirely.

Sandra started the action, looking over at Foreman. "Did you have something you needed to tell House? I was coming up to go to lunch, so that will take a while."

Foreman moved slightly aside, looking past Cuddy to House at the desk. "I looked in on the patient, and while I was there, he had an mild seizure. Not much tonic-clonic activity, but some eye movements. Total amnesia for the event and mild confusion afterward."

House sat up straight, diverted in spite of himself. "Cool. Neurological symptoms are new, and new symptoms are new clues. Full EEG, including photic stimulation. Then schedule a brain MRI. Let's see if we can get more seizures to come out to play."

Foreman nodded and turned without saying a word.

"Hold IT!" Cuddy's voice halted him in his tracks. She looked at Sandra. "Wilson, why don't you and Sandra go on to lunch without us. I need to talk to Dr. Foreman."

Sandra looked past her to House at the desk, unmistakable concern in her eyes. "I was hoping we could all eat together. I haven't had much time to see you two this week."

Wilson groaned silently. She was worried about House, the more so because he himself was playing the House card for all it was worth, trying to distract her from his own perturbation. Sandra was suspicious of something going on with him, but she had also clearly been pushed by his comments to make her own House assessment, even apparently working in a full lunch break in spite of critical patients. He wasn't sure if he dreaded lunch with House or without him more at this point. Sandra wasn't likely to let the idea drop. The oncologist closed his eyes briefly and wished for a critical patient of his own to get him out of this situation.

No critical patient appeared. Cuddy spoke up smoothly instead. "You haven't had much chance to see Wilson, either; things have been so busy. I'm sure you two would enjoy a nice lunch yourselves, and surely you have other things to talk about."

There was enough subtle emphasis on the last phrase that Sandra looked intrigued. Wilson prayed for a Code Blue, or a portable hole, or a building collapse, or something. Foreman was also looking interested at this point, diverted from his efforts to conceal his own apprehension.

"Tell you what," House spoke up. "Why don't we schedule lunch tomorrow, all four of us? You and Wilson could use a chance to see each other and catch up today." Wilson shot him an et tu, Brute glare.

"That's a great idea," Cuddy agreed. "We'll meet you tomorrow, but at the moment, I need to talk to Dr. Foreman. Go on, Wilson."

Sandra looked from House to Cuddy to her boyfriend, who looked like he was cringing inside his professional suit, becoming a full size smaller. "That sounds like a good idea. Come on, James. We haven't had lunch together once this week."

Foreman tilted his head. "Why not? You work in the same hospital."

"Because there are also patients in that hospital," Wilson snapped, "and they don't always schedule crises." Although it would be nice if they did; he couldn't fake a patient crisis with Sandra standing right there to see that no page had come. Foreman starting a differential on his relationship was the last straw. "Come on, Sandra." He tucked her arm under his and walked out, frantically scrambling for innocent topics of conversation.

The three remaining people watched the couple leave. "What's with him?" Foreman asked.

"None of your business," Cuddy replied, coldly professional. "I hadn't expected you back yet, Dr. Foreman. You can have bereavement leave, you know."

"I needed to do something," Foreman replied. He felt himself shrinking under her gaze, as Wilson had a few minutes ago. Cuddy looked dangerous at the moment.

"He came back this morning, and we already talked," House put in.

Cuddy stepped back to get them both in her field of view. "I'm glad you talked, but as administrator, there are issues I have to deal with, from the standpoint of general hospital functioning. Dr. Foreman, you committed assault on a member of the hospital staff. I cannot overlook that, even if you have apologized." Foreman and House both tightened up slightly, and Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Only you didn't apologize, did you? That's first. Apologize to Dr. House."

House shook his head. "A forced apology means nothing. This isn't third grade. Foreman and I talked, and he went back to work, end of story."

Foreman abruptly felt the anger rising again. "I don't need you to stick up for me."

Cuddy sighed. "Dr. Foreman, I realize the circumstances, and I am sorry about Dr. Hadley, but to show such directed anger, attacking a disabled colleague and specifically aiming for his weakness, leaves me doubtful that you can function appropriately on the job without some intervention. What happens next time? The hospital is in a position of severe liability here if we take no action."

"There won't be a next time," Foreman muttered, eyes down. He was redoubling his plans to look for another job ASAP, but he had to keep this one for the moment, and being fired certainly wouldn't look good on his resume.

"No, there won't," Cuddy stated definitely. "Because you are going to get anger management counseling and see a therapist."

"What?" Foreman's head jerked up. "That's ridiculous. I was drunk. I don't practice medicine drunk; this is not an issue."

"Drinking doesn't make you do things you would never do; it simply lowers your inhibitions," Cuddy insisted. "I am going to require you to get counseling, as well as requiring proof that you are actually attending appointments for the next three months. After that, you may quit it if you wish, although I'd advise you to continue. Your confidentiality applies, of course; I don't have to know what you discuss, but I do need verification that you are in counseling. You have one week to get that started; if you don't provide me proof from a therapist by then, you will be fired without a reference, and if any prospective employer calls me to ask, I will tell them that you committed assault."

Foreman felt rage building up. Who did she think she was to stand there sentencing him to therapy? He tried to stuff it down, tried to keep the calm, in-control front, as he had perfected most of his adult life, but he had to look away from her, afraid his anger would reach his eyes. "I'm not the one who needs a shrink, apparently," he challenged, looking at House.

Cuddy opened her mouth, but House spoke first. "At least I've finally admitted it. Give counseling a try, Foreman. It helps."

House faced them unwaveringly. Cuddy felt a surge of pure pride; Foreman felt one of grudging respect. The neurologist didn't respond. Cuddy gave him a moment, then repeated, "You have one week to begin counseling. That will be all, Dr. Foreman."

Foreman turned and left, looking even more sullen than when he entered, and House let out a deep breath, shoulders slumping as he let out the tension of facing yet again the fact that everybody knew. His own psychiatric problems were out there in the general hospital now; he could distribute snark and counterattack freely, but he couldn't deny them. Cuddy moved over to the desk and bent for a deeply satisfying kiss. He was surprised at first, then responded. "I'm proud of you," she said when they finally broke away.

"You must be. Anybody at all walking by could have seen that; the blinds are open."

"Let 'em look. We're married." All the same, she straightened back up, smoothed out her blouse and skirt, and took the seat across the desk from him, the picture of two colleagues having a professional conference.

House faced her, his blue eyes troubled. "Counseling isn't a bad idea, but it's not going to work like this. Forcing him accomplishes nothing."

She shook her head. "It does accomplish limiting the hospital's liability if he ever blows again, but remember, you went to Jensen at first because I bribed you and you were dodging your mother. Do you think you would have just woken up one morning completely unprompted and decided that was the day to go see a psychiatrist?"

House grinned slightly. "Touche. I'd thought about it a few times, actually, but I probably never would have taken that last step without a boost."

"Exactly. You went for the wrong reasons, but then you discovered it helped. Maybe Foreman will, too. He does need this. Jensen agreed that he needs it, and Jensen said he thought that even before Hadley's death and him attacking you."

House started to nod, then suddenly looked scared halfway. "He's not going to . . ."

"Jensen wouldn't accept him as a patient," Cuddy assured him. "Even if he happened to pick a psychiatrist in another state two hours away, he's not getting that one."

House relaxed. "Good. I still hate threatening him with his job, though. He needs this job."

"Which is precisely why no other threat would work. Besides, Greg, you're the one who told him once that he was fired to infinity."

"That was . . . different." House picked up his ball again and started fiddling with it.

"Because he happened to pick the one action you find it easiest to forgive anybody for?" He looked up, the ball stilling. "Physical assault is physical assault. Don't make a separate category for yourself that calls it justifiable. It's not justifiable, Greg. Like I said, what if it had been me he attacked? He would have liked to slap me there for a moment just now; I saw it in his eyes. Not that he did, but the fleeting thought did cross his mind."

House straightened up, blue fire igniting in his eyes. "You really think he . . ."

"I think he thought he would have liked to, yes. He needs counseling, Greg. Being drunk isn't an excuse; if it were, you'd think Wilson did nothing wrong with Sandra. His target being you certainly isn't an excuse. Trust Jensen. Foreman has a lot of anger inside that he needs to deal with, and if he doesn't deal with that, he is a liability to the hospital, because he's proven now that he can lose control of it."

House nodded slowly. "Okay," he replied. "You're the administrator."

Cuddy reached across the desk to capture his hand and squeeze it. "I won't make him apologize to you, since you don't want me to. But I still think he should."

"That'll be the day." House had had more than enough of this subject. "So, like I said, Lucas called. Want to hear his report?" Her eyes answered for her, and he launched into a summary of the two phone calls. After that, they went down to the cafeteria together to find Sandra alone just finishing her plate, her lunch break almost over. Wilson, she said, had been called away to a patient.