"Twenty year old female patient that can't do math." House tapped his cane on the desk. "Sure she's not just looking for an excuse to skip tax season?"

Cuddy grabbed the end of his cane. "No. She's had several illnesses before: meningitis, mono. Presented earlier today with severe seizures while on campus transit."

"She goes to Princeton?"

"She goes to Princeton." Cuddy pulled out a flash drive. "This is deceptively small."

House tapped his cane. "This is not."

She tossed him the drive and he plugged it into the computer. Massive amounts of data began popping up on his screen. House leaned forward intently. "No wonder nobody could figure this out. She has everything."

"I don't need to tell you how many doctors she's been to prior but she's never had seizures before. Nobody can pin this down. I don't think anyone could begin to pin this down. I know you're good but now would be the perfect time to bring in a-

"Busload of Korean refugees?" House stood up. "If I had known we were getting political, I would have worn a flag pin." He tapped the computer monitor with his cane. "Annie Heller? Daughter of CIA Director Jonathan Heller. You brought me a top secret, classified case."

"It's not secret or classified," Cuddy said, backing toward the door.

"No, it just means with all the spooks snooping through my cache that I'll have to encrypt my porn."

"Too late," Cuddy said and smiled. She walked out.

-

"CIA operative turns into daddy, turns into daddy of the world's most randomly sick girl."

Wilson sat in his desk while House poked around in the couch.

"Got any cookies?"

"No and I don't think it would be a bad thing for you to score some points with the head of the CIA. By the way, have you met him yet?"

"I haven't accepted the case yet."

"Of course. Girl presents with the most complicated case known in the history of man and you'd much rather be digging animal crackers out of your friend's couch."

"Cookies. Not animal crackers. Besides. She's a woman, not a girl."

"Difference being?" Wilson asked.

"Women have sex. Ergo, this woman has sex. She's the daughter of the CIA director which means she's good at keeping things hush-hush which means drugs and sex. Multiply drugs times sex times attractive twenty year old female and, voila, you have a complex case, but not a complicated one."

"Ah, yes, House. Because while a garbage man can dump hundreds of bags of trash in a day, only you can figure out who has been throwing whose used condoms in those bags of trash."

"Career counseling just never fit my mojo. I prefer behind-the-scenes Jerry Springer puppetmaster. Aha." House pulled a box of animal crackers from behind a cushion.

"Just seems odd, you know?" Wilson said, smiling. "In a world full of detox, rehab, counseling and moral puppetmastery, that a girl could get so messed up that she couldn't do simple math."

House lowered his eyes at Wilson.

Wilson smiled back.

"You know."

"I know. She's been that way since she was a little girl, House. You don't want this case because you know it's the Titanic of cases. It could sink even you. I mean, for the math thing, you'd need a neurologist. Other presentations, an immunologist, maybe."

"Care to bet?" House asked.

"No, no, no. Yes. Fifty dollars."

"A hundred dollars and I get to pass my worst clinic patient off to you when they come waltzing through the door."

"That sounds ominous."

House ate a cracker.

-

The voice on the answering machine said, "Dr. House, this is CIA Director Jonathan Heller. I was wondering if we might be able to talk. My number is..."

House switched off the answering machine and whispered to himself. "Long enough day without having to answer to the fuzz." He went into the kitchen and pulled a drink from the refrigerator. "Can't do math. Meningitis. Mono. Immunocompromised for sure. Seizures."

He sat down.

It was fully dark outside. The lamplight gleamed off his piano as House put his leg up and drank. His mind felt like tethers trying to find a hook. He pulled out his ball and started bouncing it against the ceiling. "Dr. Allison Cameron. Let's look at you." He threw the ball into the kitchen and pulled out the candidate file.

"Immunologist. Mayo Clinic. Pretty. Beautiful."

House bit the inside of his lip in thought.

"Annie Heller." He placed Annie's file next to Cameron's. "Not as attractive. Not as healthy, of course." House picked up the phone and dialed.

"Dr. Lisa Cuddy. I will take your case on one condition."

-

Nighttime at Princeton Plainsboro was peaceful. With the exception of janitors, security guards, a few nurses and desk staff, not many doctors were to be seen. However, that night, Dr. Gregory House sat in his office, working as if it were noon instead of midnight. A small rap at his door.

"Excuse me? I'm Dr. Cameron. I'm here for the interview."

House motioned to the chair in front of him. She sat down.

Cameron was wearing a red turtleneck and some blue jeans. "I'm sorry I couldn't get ready. Do we really have to do this at midnight? I mean, I want the fellowship."

House looked up quickly. "Yes, we have to do this now."

"Can I ask why?"

"You can but that's not going to change anything." House handed her Annie's file.

Cameron took is slowly. "A patient's file? You want me to-

"Diagnose."

"But I mean-

"Consider it your patriotic duty. She's the CIA Director's daughter, if that makes any difference. It doesn't say in your file if you've ever burned any flags."

"I mean, I can't diagnose without.. She can't do math? That's neurological."

"If it's related."

"It must be related," Cameron said.

"Why?"

"I mean, if there's an underlying cause."

"What if there's no underlying cause? What if it's two different things?"

She looked at him sideways and then looked at his computer monitor. "Is that her patient history?"

"It's part of her patient history. What if it's two different things?"

"If it's two different things, then you need a neurologist and an immunologist."

"Then.." House said.

Dr. Allison Cameron leaned forward and gave the history a closer look. "You're going to need a lot more than just my help."