Chapter 56 — Seven Day Mile

A/N: Thank you to Rubyia, Robyin-in-the-air, BrySt1, SoleFaith, jaz7, jaelami, Musikrulesok, Robin, HeatherSS1, Fernix13, and wsmith for their reviews on the last chapter!

"This is...unexpected."

I stood in front of Vogler's desk, my entire body shaking. It was early in the morning, damn early. Vogler was usually in his office by eight o'clock. I'd been at the university since six, the hospital since seven. I'd known that there was no way in hell I could sleep last night, and Wilson was passed out on House's couch anyway, so I'd just driven Lola around Princeton into the wee hours of the morning, planning this very conversation out in my head.

"I'd like to talk to you," I said, trying desperately to force some calm into myself, but there was no masking the tremor in my voice.

The billionaire watched me with narrowed eyes. "Are you here to tell me to eat shit again?"

"If I said I was sorry about that, would you believe me?"

He snorted. "Maybe if you weren't House's daughter."

"Fair enough. But I do mean that. I was out of line."

"Interesting." Vogler leaned back in his chair, and I hated how he was sizing me up. It reminded me too much of House's scrutiny, but like...more villainous. "But you came here to say more than that."

"I withdrew from Princeton this morning. I won't be starting there in the fall. The Smitty scholarship is going to someone else. I'm not going to med school," I said in a pained rush.

Breathing the words into reality cut deep, and I knew it showed in my face.

Vogler stared at me in unabashed shock. "Is this some kind of play? You do realize it takes one phone call to a friend on the admissions' board and I'll know—"

"Check if you want," I interrupted him tonelessly. "I already did it. I won't let you hold this over House's head. If I want to be in the medical field, I'll make my own way. It's what's right. I won't let House suffer for this while I let him buy my future. That's not the kind of person that I want to be."

Vogler shook his head slightly, as if he couldn't determine whether he was hearing me right or not. "You're turning down a full-ride to one of the most prestigious med schools in the country because it violates your morals? Where were your morals when House whipped out the bribe in the first place?"

"I had a dream. I wanted to follow it. But the cost has to be taken into consideration, and I decided that the cost was too high," I answered firmly, some of my resolve seeping back into me. I'd almost cried that morning when I'd gone to Princeton to talk to Dr. Preciado about withdrawing, and she could tell it broke my heart to do it—but if I'd stood tall then, when I had to sign away my own future to somebody else, I could stand tall now. The damage had already been done.

My dream of being a doctor was over before it had ever had a chance to start. Now all that was left was damage control. Something good could come of this...I hoped.

"Ms. Carhart—screw it, Anya—you've known your father for less than half a year. Why is it that you're willing to give up everything that you've ever wanted just so he can continue running around this hospital like a lunatic? Is his freedom to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants, with no consequences, worth everything to you?" He seemed sincerely flabbergasted. "I'm just trying to understand."

"You don't know House like I do," I answered simply. "He needs that freedom to be him. To be crazy. To be a genius. To save people that nobody else could ever save. Most doctors, they think in straight lines. House thinks in fucking zigzags and spirals. It's the kind of thought process nobody else could follow, much less hope to replicate. Yes, he incurs legal fees up the ass, yes, his department is a deficit, yes, he is a complete and total, incorrigible dickhead. But—" I cleared my throat, emotion clogging me up for a moment. "But, he is a good man, with a good heart, and he's outside of the box, he doesn't even know where it fucking is, but it has to be like that. It has to be."

"I don't think you—"

"If you're gonna keep trying to control House, you might as well just get rid of diagnostics now. The department can't work if everyone's afraid, if you're controlling House and breathing down his neck. End it now if you're going to keep doing this, the micromanaging, the blackmail. Don't play with your food. Either learn to trust him, or end this."

I was taking a huge risk here. There was a big chance that Vogler would just laugh and say fine, the whole department's gone. But if I didn't take the risk, the department was going to come to an inevitable end anyway. This was the last chance I had to get things even remotely back on the rails.

Vogler stared up at me, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say that he was faintly impressed. "You're really willing to give up that much for him?"

I bit the inside of my lip. "He's a good man," I repeated.

Vogler sighed heavily, putting his head in his hands. "I never expected a headache like this when I threw in with this hospital. I expected egomaniac doctors, and God complexes, but House—House is in a league all his own. He hates authority just to hate it. Alienates patients, colleagues, donors. He's a public relations nightmare in a sports coat, you do realize that?"

I was surprised by his candor, but I nodded in agreement. "Intimately aware, sir."

"From eat shit, Vogler to sir in barely more than twelve hours. That's funny."

"I said I was sorry about that."

"And once again, you're House's daughter." He rose from his chair, knees popping, and went to the windows. He clasped his hands behind his back and gazed out over the hospital and university grounds. In the distance, I saw the university fountain, and I thought of my parents.

I didn't know how House would react when he found out about this, but my parents would have been proud of me. That was a comfort, at least.

Vogler was quiet for almost a minute before he snorted and finally spoke, "I don't know what it is you see in him. Or what Cuddy sees—or why his department are all perfectly loyal little lapdogs." That's a nice change from the original timeline. "But frankly, I'm sick of this particularly headache."

My heart stopped. No. He wouldn't shut down diagnostics, would he?

"I'll take the heat off—within reason. If only so I can stop having to speak to, or so much as be in the same room as your father. But," he raised one finger. "A year. One. Year. To do something about the amount of money getting flushed down the toilet in diagnostics. One year, or he and all his minions are filing for unemployment. If his department stops hemorrhaging money, I'll stay out of his hair for good. We'll draw our lines in the sand, he'll stay on his side, and I'll stay on mine. Everyone's happy."

I gaped at Vogler's back. "Are—are you serious? You'll take the heat off? No more blackmail?"

"It's not worth it, at this point. Cuddy and Wilson will fall on the sword for him if I ever try to get his tenure revoked, and if House says jump, his team asks how high. I thought you were the trump card I could use against him, but no, you're willing to sacrifice your whole life for him. So." Vogler turned to me, looking me dead in the eye. "One year. I'll reiterate all this to your father later. But I want you to keep that date in mind, too, for his sake. April 19th, 2006. If your budget report looks as bad as it does now, even Cuddy can't save him."

I nodded frantically. "Yes, yes. You got it. We'll—I mean he'll—I mean the team will figure something out. For sure."

Vogler scoffed. "We'll see. Now get out of here, you look like hammered crap. Go to bed."

I suppose I did. I was still in my dress from the night before, with Wilson's jacket slung over my shoulder. I probably smelled heavily of booze just from being around House and Wilson. Not a good look. "I uh, I never thought I'd say this to you, but thank you. Thank you so much." A year was a year. It was enough time to figure something out. If it got House off of his leash, it was worth it.

"We'll see if you'll be thanking me next year."

With that ominous statement, I left him. I stood outside of Vogler's office, feeling a mixture of numb and relieved. I'd ended the Vogler arc...kind of. And kept a hundred million dollars for the hospital to put towards new equipment and medical research. Two birds, one stone, and the only price paid was...everything I'd ever hoped for.

Hell of a price.

But now I felt a trace of clarity—I had given up Princeton. Now all I could do was move forward. On my own, of my own merit. No more deceptions but those absolutely necessary. The only thing I had from my old universe was the cross around my neck, and my sense of self. I wrapped my hand around my cross. I had to hold onto both if I wanted to stand a chance here.

I walked to House's office half in a daze, Wilson's jacket over one shoulder and my high heels dangling from my right hand. I caught odd looks from passing doctors and nurses, but no one stopped to ask what my deal was, at the very least. Most of the hospital seemed to fear me purely because I was House's daughter, minus the nurses in pediatrics, who knew me from my Friday night guitar sessions. Times like this, it came in handy.

Once in House's office, I sank down in his Eames chair and curled into a ball. No sign of ducklings, but the coffee pot was on in the differential room, so they'd been around at some point today. Before I had much time to think about it, I passed out cold.

"What the hell did you do?"

"Mmmph?" I didn't open my eyes, but I slowly returned to the world of the waking. I shivered, pulling Wilson's jacket tighter around me.

"Wake up." House kicked the Eames chair. "I repeat: what the hell did you do?"

I rolled over reluctantly, opening my eyes to see House standing over me, expression grim. "What did Vogler tell you?"

"That I had a year to figure out how to make this department profitable. A grace period. No more blackmail. No more freebie speeches. No more interfering with patient care unless absolutely necessary—for a year. And when I asked him why his heart suddenly wasn't three sizes too small, he told me to talk to you. So, once more, with feeling—"

"What the hell I did was, I...I took away his leverage. Most of it. I can't do anything about the Joey stuff—"

"I took care of that," House said dismissively. "Had a kid from the Princeton University Red Masque in the other day with the Clap, I offered him two hundred bucks and a fake badge to go to Vogler and pretend he was a Homeland Security agent. He told Vogler Foreman and I were helping the feds get Joey out, thus washing my hands clean of any possible legal consequences. Getting fired, I could live with that eventuality. But I'm too pretty for jail."

Let's keep it that way. "He bought that?"

"You give a college kid two hundred dollars and see just how motivated they get. He went from Rum Tum Tugger to Agent Will Fogerty real fast. So, stop evading. What do you mean, you took his leverage away?"

This was a rare moment where House had 100% of his attention on me, and I practically shriveled beneath his ice blue eyes. I was terrified to tell him. Somehow more terrified to tell him about withdrawing from Princeton than I was to bargain with Vogler. "I...I don't want you to be disappointed in me," I said with trepidation.

House pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm too hungover for this. Skip the theatrics. What did you do?"

I swallowed with difficulty. Braced myself. "House, I dropped out of Princeton. I gave it up. The scholarship. All of it. I'm not going."

House didn't seem to register what I'd said. He just stared at me.

"I'm sorry. I know you paid Taub a lot—we can do the Super Bowl gimmick again this year to try to make the money up. Or I can just start giving you my paychecks. It's not like I need to save up for textbooks now. I promise I'll—"

"I thought you wanted to be a doctor."

I winced at the absence in his voice, the cool condemnation. "I do...so much. But not like this."

"We talked about this."

"You talked. I listened. But House—this doesn't work if I just turn into you. I've always—" I floundered for a moment, fighting to explain what I meant. "I've always looked up to you since I was a little kid, practically worshiped the ground you walked on, and you know that. And I want to be like you. I want to be the genius doctor that solves these impossible cases and saves people that nobody else would have a chance of saving. I want to be you, House, but more than anything, even that, I want to save the one person that you can't: you. And I can't do that if I'm anyone but me. So I need to find my own path. I'll end up in the medical field one way or another. I know that. But I gotta figure that shit out for myself."

House stood there, finally dropping my gaze. He twirled his cane. He was thinking. "A year isn't as much time as you think."

Oh. Okay. So we were moving on from the dropping out of medical school thing. Thank God, because I didn't have anything else to say on the subject. I'd expected a far worse rebuttal from House, but maybe that would come later. "I know. But maybe—maybe I could write medical papers under your name about some of your crazier cases. That could at least bring in some money. And uh, there's a lot of millionaires and billionaires out there with spare income. Vogler's living proof of that. Cameron and I can put our heads together, write some people, try to get some money flowing. I'll do everything I can to make sure this doesn't, you know. Ruin everything."

"Write under my name?"

"Unless you want to write them yourself. Which you don't."

"Fair," House acknowledged. He turned away from me. "I've got a dying pregnant woman to deal with."

Oh shit, were we already on Babies and Bathwater? "Um, is her name Naomi?"

House stopped just before the glass door into the differential room. "Yeah."

"I hate to spoil the case for you, but she's got lung cancer. Paraneoplastic, I think. I—I don't know if there's anything you can do, but if you can do something...maybe give her enough time to meet her baby before she dies," I told House in a rush. Naomi died without ever having a chance to hold her own child in the show. There was nothing House or the team could do about the cancer at this stage, more likely than not, but if they knew just a little bit ahead of time, maybe they could buy her some time. Maybe.

House left without offering a response. I sat in his Eames chair with my brow furrowed. That had been a non-conversation if I'd ever had one. I had a desire for some kind of closure with House, but maybe I was expecting too much of him. Emotional engagement wasn't his forte. At least he wasn't mad about the lost money. Hopefully a Super Bowl scam or two more would pay him back for all he'd lost bribing Taub.

I checked the clock. 10am. I'd barely gotten any rest. With a shrug, I curled back into a ball and immediately fell back asleep.

"And down here, nothing gets a chance...it's a world too big for us...time will be the judge of all here..."

I'd woken up well past seven, and the diagnostic offices had been empty. I'd searched the hospital briefly and found no signs of anyone from House's department. I realized with a jolt mid-search however that it was Friday, and I was supposed to be in pediatrics in ten minutes to play for the kids. I raced to House's office and grabbed his electric, which he had behind his desk, and his mini Fender amp. I vastly preferred his acoustic, but he didn't have that at the hospital usually. I'd raced off to pediatrics and had arrived just in the nick of time.

Out of breath and looking a mess, I sat on my stool and faced the children of the long-term pediatric ward, and played whatever songs came to mind, having never bothered to plan anything out over the past few days. I played for almost an hour, and was ending with Seven Day Mile. A favorite I'd picked up from the show—naturally.

"This might take awhile to figure out now, so don't you rush it! Hold your head up high right through the doubt now, 'cause it's just a matter of time..."

I noticed a figure at the edge of my vision, and turned my head ever-so-slightly to see House leaning against the wall near the nurse's station. He watched me without emotion, but I didn't break eye contact with him as I finished out the song.

"You've been running so fast...it's the seven day mile...has you torn in between here and never again, never again."

The pediatrics kids clapped, and after settling House's electric back in its case, I moved through the crowd, giving high fives and hugs. I'd learned all of their names over the past few months, which made it all the harder when I noticed one of them declining. Kaley, a seven year old with leukemia, looked like a waif compared to just when I'd seen her the week before. I hugged her extra tight.

"You just hold on, okay? You're way tougher than anything anyone can throw at you," I told her fiercely.

I felt House's eyes on me the whole time as I milled around with the kids. Ten or fifteen minutes passed before I finally broke away, bidding everyone goodnight. Brandy thanked me as she always did, and I thanked her in return. I was just happy to have the opportunity. When all was said and done, I gathered up House's guitar and amp, and headed off down the hallway.

House fell into step beside me. "I didn't say you could use that."

"Sorry, I should've asked, but I completely forgot about the Pedes kids today."

"Forgetting about the sick and dying children...maybe it's a good thing you're not gonna be a doctor," House commented mordantly as we headed into the elevator.

"Oh, cool, we've already moved on to joking about it. That's fantastic, I was worried we were gonna dwell on that."

"What's to dwell on? You're an idiot. You're giving up everything you want in life, everything you've dreamed of, everything you worked for in your own world, to, what—make it so mean Mr. Vogler won't yell at me for watching my soaps on the clock? Boohoo. Paint yourself as the martyr, but all you're accomplishing is stabbing nails through your hands."

"Good thing my tetanus shots are up-to-date." Now this was the verbal brow-beating I'd been waiting for. Apparently House just needed time to wind up. "It's already done. And you'd never say it, but I bet you're fucking thrilled to know you'll never have to bend the knee for Vogler ever again. You looked like you wanted to die during and after that speech yesterday."

"I still did it. I'd thought you would be delighted that I actually did the right thing for once. But no, you have a guilt-ridden meltdown and ruin your future instead."

"I didn't ruin my future. I just want to make my own. There's other ways I can help people."

"Nobody becomes a doctor to help people," House said, not for the first time, and not for the last.

"Either way. I'll end up where I need to be, even if it isn't clear now," I responded, surprisingly serene. I would surely bitterly regret my decision at different points in the future, but for now, I felt content with the fact that I had done what felt right in my heart.

House snorted. "All in God's plan, right?"

"Absolutely."

"I thought I was finally starting to get through to you."

"That what? God is dead, altruism is bullshit, and to do whatever I can to get ahead regardless of whether it hurts the people I care about? It is hard-wired into me, intrinsically, to try to do what I feel is right. To not cause other people harm. Especially you. Specifically you."

House didn't look at me as we spilled out into the parking garage. "You're an idiot," he repeated.

We halted when we were halfway between both of our cars, and as one we turned to face each other.

"So you've said," I replied dryly. I tilted my head up to look at House, searching his eyes, but I couldn't read his expression.

"You shouldn't care about me as much as you do. No one should care about me as much you as you do. No one should care about anyone as much as you care about me," House said, and there wasn't really a teasing note to his words. More like he was trying to get something across to me.

I shrugged. "Too bad. You're stuck with me."

House grimaced. "Great." He turned away from me and limped towards his car. "You're making dinner tonight."

"What? No Street Fighter?"

"You quitting medical school counts as a default loss. I want steak." He slammed his car door and started up his gasping engine.

I climbed into Lola laughing. My future had crumbled in front of me, sure—but I still had House. I still had his universe, and I still had my mission. There was a million ways to get behind the scenes in a hospital, to save people. I just had to get more creative.

It was all gonna be alright...right?