"If he doesn't know how to read an MRI, the odds are he'll never call us a moron," Chase said.

"Well, that's good news for my ego," Taub said, "Bad news for every patient who walks through that door."

"He should have skipped the EST and just done the surgery," Park trilled. "Removing the lesions could have stopped the hallucinations, and he would be aware that his life is better."

"The hallucinations caused the lesions," Cameron dismissed. "He's getting the surgery, too," she added, as Adams opened the repaired door and entered the room with a file. "I'm sure he'll find happiness some other way."

"Well, he'd be thrilled if he was here now," Adams said, neatly stepping in. "Patient with the extra toe has lupus."

The fellows were absorbing the diagnosis and poring over the file when Cuddy walked in, looking utterly defeated. She joined them at the table and put her chin in her hand as she tried to get her bearings.

"Hello," Taub said nervously.

Cuddy let her hand drop on the table. "Julia's funeral is on Friday; I'd like you to be there. And I need to appoint the new head of this department."

"Please, God, let it not be me," Chase muttered.

She frowned at him. "I appreciate your team spirit, Chase."

"I have plenty of team spirit. Leader spirit is what I lack. I tried it once and it was a disaster."

"Fortunately for you, I'm aware of that. You're not being considered."

The rest of the ducklings exchanged glances among their teammates. Cuddy stood up, trying to smile. "I will let you know," she announced, and left the office.


House stirred as Lisa's arm came around him. His eyes shot open and he pushed her arm away. Hadn't she told him she would be on the couch? She rolled over, making a muffled noise. House rolled over as well, putting his back to her back and staring grumpily at the unfamiliar bedroom. She had used his medical records to prove he was who she said he was—and still, he felt as though he couldn't trust her. But maybe he was just out of his mind.

From the backyard came a quiet noise; a soft scrape that ended as quickly as it began. It wasn't windy, so it couldn't have been a tree branch. He sat up, watching a shadow pass over the dimly illuminated curtain. Painfully, he got to his feet, grabbed his cane, and limped out of the bedroom. Amazing, how the constant presence of pain had made the cane a habit after only six hours.

He let himself out of the bedroom, shutting the door as quietly as possible. Going to what he thought was the correct window, he watched a figure walking alongside the house, peering at the curtained windows; then approaching the tall fence and beginning to scale it.

House lurched to the stairs and began to descend. Coming down the spiraling staircase, the burglar was to his far left, behind the bathroom. House wedged himself between the staircase and the Christmas tree, trying not to panic as the burglar began to jimmy open one of the windows. Dressed in black to blend in with the night, the robber slid in through the window and crawled off the sill. As the robber stood up, House glimpsed the knife handle tucked between his boot and pantleg, glinting in the moonlight.

But House wasn't defenseless. He waited for the thief to creep towards the stairs before giving away his position. He stood up into the moonlight shining onto the tinsel. The burglar skittered away, and House pursued him, raising the cane and whacking him atop the head. Ignoring the rather feminine grunts, he pushed his cane into the shadow-clad body, jostling her back until she had fallen over the arm of the couch. It was a simple thing to reach down and grab her knife.

"Dad, stop, it's me!"

He paused, still brandishing the knife and cane. "What?" he rasped.

"I'm your daughter. I just want to talk... Mom told me about the electroshock therapy, and I..." Her words rushed to a falter as House stumbled back, deftly catching himself with the cane. He flicked on the lights, squinting at the pretty, blue-eyed face that stared back at him. "I'm your daughter," she repeated.

Breathing hard, House squinted at the unwelcome intruder.

"You're..." He stopped, trying to get his ragged voice under control. She waited, eyeing the knife in his hand and wondering how far gone he was. Finally he spoke.

"Rebecca, right?"