Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital, Princeton NJ - October 2004

"You rang?"

"Only about five hundred and fifty times in the past six hours."

"What can I do for you, mistress?"

"Give your fellows something to do."

"What? You don't think responding to my mail and doing my clinic hours are enough for them?"

"Please tell me Dr. Cameron isn't the one responding to your mail, House..."

"Okay: Dr. Cameron isn't the one responding to my mail."

"You're lying to me."

"You're right."

"They aren't here to respond to your mail or cover for you in the clinic, House. If that was their purpose, Dr. Chase probably wouldn't have chosen to relocate halfway across the world and Dr. Cameron certainly wouldn't have chosen to work for a misogynistic bastard like you."

House smirked. Cuddy continued.

"I typically refrain from saying this for fear of boosting your ego, but I'm nearing desperation: these fellows are here for you. You are one of the best medical minds of our time, House. Your brain works in weird, twisted ways that no one understands, yet you solve the cases no one else is able to. Doctors Chase and Cameron - and soon Dr. Foreman, too - are here to learn to think like you. Having them open letters, write emails, and treat the stuffy noses and ear infections you should be treating is not teaching them to think like you! Your wasting their talent and time, and my hospital's money.

"So, here's the deal: if you don't have a case by the time Dr. Foreman is done with HR on Friday morning, the Department of Diagnostics will be closed until further notice, all of your fellows will be reassigned to other departments, and no one but you will be allowed to complete your clinic hours.

Cuddy shook her head and pushed her long, thick hair off her shoulders.

"I'm done screwing around, House. Put your fellows to work, or we'll be back to where we were four years ago. And I don't know about you, but I am not particularly keen for either of us to return to that time in your life. Do I make myself clear?"

House's bright eyes locked on Cuddy's cool, grey stare. With a forced, fake smile, he nodded.

"Crystal."

Aside from telling Wilson about his predicament, House put no effort into finding a case between that meeting with Cuddy and Dr. Foreman's first day. And as he'd expected would happen, his team was handed a case on a silver platter on that fateful Friday by none other than Wilson; naturally, the act of telling Wilson that he had to find a case was as effective as, and a whole lot less work than, finding a case himself. He still put up a fight, mostly for show, but in the end agreed to treat the 29-year-old babbling-and-seizing teacher. House knew that Cuddy and Wilson were right: he had something valuable to share with these three doctors, and had the potential to do something valuable for his patients. And besides, he knew he could do something valuable for himself:

solve the puzzles.

The End.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read & reviewed this story! It's been fun to write, but I'm relieved to be bringing it to a close. Hopefully I'll have more to share with you soon!