Disclaimer: This may come as a shock, but in the intervening time between posting chapter one and posting chapter two, I have not become the owner of either House or Star Trek.

Cuddy was annoyed. House had disappeared (again) along with Wilson, and of course it had to happen at the worst possible time. One of the hospital's most important financial donors had fallen sick and was demanding that House be her doctor. Never mind that her condition wasn't serious enough to warrant House (or mysterious enough to interest him anyway), no other doctor would do. So now Cuddy had to find a man who was too clever for anyone's own good and who didn't want to be found.

She sighed mentally as she walked briskly down one of Princeton-Plainsboro's many halls. Where the hell could he be? she thought with no little exasperation. As she turned a corner, she saw Foreman and Kutner standing and chatting. "Hey!" she called as she approached the two doctors. They turned to look at her. "Either of you seen House?"

"Nope, but then House actively tries to keep me away, so I wouldn't be the person to ask," said Foreman sardonically.

Cuddy frowned in annoyance and turned to Kutner. "How about you?"

"Yeah, this morning. I brought him coffee," said Kutner.

"Suck-up," snorted Foreman derisively.

"I'm not a suck-up!" protested Kutner. "House… scares me, is all."

"You'd better get over that," said Foreman, "because if you don't, he'll walk all over you."

"I can stand up for myself," responded Kutner quickly. Foreman snorted in response. "I can!" protested the younger doctor.

"He scares you, but you're going to stand up to him?" asked Foreman dubiously.

"What, House doesn't scare you?" retorted Kutner.

"No, I-"

"I hate to break up this little chat, but I still have to find House," Cuddy interrupted impatiently. "Kutner, do you have any idea where he might be?"

"Uh… oh, yeah! He was gonna go talk to Wilson."

"I just checked Wilson's office. House wasn't there."

"Did you ask Wilson? He might know where House is," suggested Foreman.

"Wilson wasn't there either."

"That's weird," said Kutner, "Aren't these his office hours?"

"Yes, they are," Cuddy answered irritably. "I don't suppose either of you know where Wilson is?"

"Nope," said Kutner and Foreman in unison.

Cuddy gave a long-suffering sigh. "This means that they've probably run off together."

Kutner snorted, and Cuddy and Foreman glared at him. "What?!" he asked indignantly. "The way you phrased it, it was funny!"

Cuddy scowled, and Foreman rolled his eyes. Foreman turned back to Cuddy and asked, "Why are you looking for House anyway? I know he skips clinic duty all the time, but normally that doesn't warrant this much attention."

Cuddy sighed. "There's a big financial donor for the hospital here. She's demanding House, and I need to provide him or else lose major contributions to this hospital."

Foreman looked curious. "Can I look at the chart?"

Cuddy shrugged. "Sure."

She handed him the folder which Foreman promptly opened and began flipping through. Also curious, Kutner stepped forward to try to get a look at it, too. He couldn't see it from where he was, so he tried standing on his toes. That didn't work either. He leaned even more forward and tried to look over Foreman's shoulder to catch sight of the patient's chart. Foreman turned his head and gave Kutner a "what the hell are you doing?" look. Kutner flicked his eyes up from the chart to his coworker's face and looked sheepish. "Sorry," he muttered and backed away.

Foreman rolled his eyes and went back to perusing the files. After a few seconds, Kutner tried to lean forward and look at the chart again. "Will you cut it out?!" Foreman snapped as the other doctor got too close. Kutner jerked backwards and muttered another apology. As Foreman turned back to Cuddy he shook his head disbelievingly. He read the last few files, and then looked up at his boss and said, "This is just the flu. House isn't going to take such a mundane case."

He handed the chart back to Cuddy, and Kutner tried to grab it, but only managed to grab handfuls of air. His shoulders slumped, and he sighed disappointedly. Ignoring Kutner, Cuddy took the chart back and said sternly, "Mundane or not, House is taking this case."

Foreman raised an eyebrow. "Do you honestly think this is going to end well for you?"

"Let's see, which would I prefer? A happy, healthy donor who is very impressed with the quality of our hospital-"

"Because House's behavior will definitely convince her of that," interrupted Foreman.

"- and will donate more to support it," Cuddy gave Foreman a look, "or a marginally less aggravated House who will nevertheless remain a miserable, sarcastic, Vicoden-addicted asshole?" finished Cuddy.

"You want the happy rich guy!" answered Kutner. They both gave him yet another look. He opened his mouth to say something, but wisely changed his mind and preemptively shut up.

Foreman focused his attention back on Cuddy, and she addressed both of the doctors. "If either of you find out anything, tell me. Got it?"

"Yep," replied Foreman casually.

"Yes, ma'am!" Kutner saluted eagerly. Cuddy rolled her eyes and walked off to continue her search for House and Wilson.

The smile fell off Kutner's face. He glanced at Foreman who raised an eyebrow. "That," he said, "was completely idiotic."

"I was trying-" he realized he was still holding his arm up and quickly lowered it "-to be clever."

"You failed," scoffed Foreman. He turned and walked away, leaving Kutner standing alone in the middle of the hall.

Kutner sighed and looked disappointed for a moment. Then a thoughtful expression crossed his face. Maybe there's a clue in House's office about where he went, thought Kutner. Or in Wilson's.... He glanced down the halls Foreman and Cuddy had left through, and started to quickly make his way to his employer's office.

Meanwhile, back on the Enterprise, House and Wilson continued to wait for someone to come speak with them. They had long since gotten bored with examining the room's furnishings, interesting though they were, and had proceeded to playing various games with a deck of cards House had found in his pocket. Wilson sat cross-legged on the floor; House was on the floor across from Wilson with his bad leg stretched out in front of him. So far they had played, and in turn gotten bored with, hearts, BS, and poker. Now they were playing Go Fish.

"Any twos?" asked Wilson.

"Go fish."

Wilson took a card from the deck and looked at his hand. House watched him for a moment, and then asked, "When do you think someone will come to see us?"

Wilson shrugged and looked up at House. "Probably whenever they get around to it."

House frowned slightly. "Hm. Any jacks?"

Wilson looked back down at his hand. "Uh, yeah." He pulled out the card and handed it to House.

House smiled briefly as he put the pair of jacks aside. "I'm winning."

"It's still early. And I beat you the last two games."

"I won the first five." House stared at his hand for a moment. "Do you think they've forgotten about us?"

Wilson paused in thought for a moment. "I suppose it's possible. At any rate, they'll find us when whoever occupies this room comes back tonight to sleep."

House digested this for a moment. "Any sevens?" Wilson frowned and gave House another card. House smirked again. "Threes?"

"Go fish," said Wilson smirking. House frowned and drew a card, then smiled again when he got another pair.

"Still winning," said House obnoxiously.

"Yeah, yeah. Just wait for my come-from-behind-victory. Got any queens?" House handed him a card. "See? I'm coming back already. Any aces?"

"Go fish."

Wilson shrugged and drew a card. He paused a moment, then looked at House and asked, "Do you think this is real?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure Go Fish is an actual game," retorted House.

"Not the game," said Wilson impatiently, "this… circumstance we're in."

House considered several sarcastic responses, but in the end instead said simply, "It seems real enough."

"We could be hallucinating."

House considered this for a moment, then answered without his usual sarcasm, "No… this is too vivid."

"Wasn't your hallucination two years ago really vivid?"

"True," admitted House. "I still don't think this is a hallucination. There would be inconsistencies."

"A Klingon ran into my office and got shot by two guys wielding ray guns," said Wilson indignantly. "How much more inconsistencydo you need?"

House grinned and chuckled. "You have a point."

"You? Agreeing with me? Okay, now I know I'm hallucinating."

House laughed again. "Still, I don't think this is a hallucination. It's incredibly unlikely that we'd be hallucinating the same thing at the same time. Of course, if you're hallucinating you'd imagine me saying this, and if I'm hallucinating, I'd imagine you saying what you've said."

"So one of us might still be hallucinating?"

"Technically, yes."

"Technically?"

"I don't remember anything happening to me that would cause hallucinations. I certainly haven't been shot again."

Wilson chuckled. "Nothing's happened to me, either."

House sighed. "So, we really are waiting." He gazed around the room. "Want to play chess?"

"What, you have a chess set in your pockets, too?" said Wilson.

House rolled his eyes impatiently and pointed to a multi-leveled set sitting on a shelf. "No, with that."

"No! We can't use this person's stuff without permission!"

"Why not?" asked House. "It's not like he'll know."

"Unless he walks in and sees us playing. And what makes you so sure it's a guy?"

House leveled a stare at Wilson. After watching him for a few seconds, House asked, "Ever seen an episode of Star Trek? The original, I mean."

Wilson paused in thought. "Maybe one or two. Why?"

House smirked. "So few? It seems like the sort of thing you would've obsessed over. It's not like you had any friends to spend your time with."

Wilson rolled his eyes and ignored the comment about his supposedly nonexistent childhood friends. "I was never really into sci-fi."

"If you knew the show, you could tell whose room this is."

"I'm sure I could," drawled Wilson. "But I don't, so I can't."

House continued to smirk at Wilson. "You'll see who it is."

Wilson exhaled irritatedly and glared at House. "Can't you just tell me?"

"No," House responded cheerfully. Wilson growled in response and threw his cards onto the pile in from of him. He then proceeded to glare sullenly at House.

House began to peer around the room while collecting his cards into a pile in front of him. His eyes alighted on a computer. He smiled mischievously and shoved his deck back into his pocket, then grabbed his cane from where it was laying beside him. He stood up, although he had some difficulty doing so. "What are you doing?" asked Wilson suspiciously as his friend walked over to the computer.

House sat down at the computer and said, "I'm going to try to hack into Spock's computer." He smiled evilly at Wilson's panicked expression.

"What?!" yelped Wilson. "That's insane!"

"I'm insane," retorted House matter-of-factly. He turned to the computer and started pushing buttons.

Wilson scrambled to his feet. "Okay, okay, let's play chess. Just don't mess with his computer!"

"You know, on second thought, I like this idea much more than chess." House continued to push buttons.

Wilson tried not to panic. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair nervously. "House, you're going to really get in trouble!" he warned. House ignored him. Wilson started to pace in front of the computer, but then stopped abruptly. "Wait, did you say Spock?"

"Yep."

"He's the first officer!" yelled Wilson. "When he comes in and finds you screwing with-"

"I thought you weren't familiar with the show?" asked House offhandedly. The computer's keys clicked under his fingers.

"I'm familiar enough to know who the most important people are. You know, the ones you shouldn't piss off," spat Wilson angrily.

"Since when have I ever cared about authority?" asked House who was being obnoxiously calm. (He was also being quite absorbed in trying to hack the computer. He didn't even follow his statement up with a crack at Cuddy.)

Wilson growled in frustration. "Fine. I give up. Go ahead and screw yourself over, but leave me out of it!" he seethed. The oncologist turned on his heel and stalked over to the other side of the room where he sat down and proceeded to glare at House.

The diagnostician looked up at Wilson and cocked his head. "You're really freaked out about all this." Wilson's only response was a glare. "Normally you're more passive." Wilson continued to glare. "This isn't usual for you." More glaring. House shrugged and went back to trying to be a hacker.

After about 15 minutes, the door to the room finally opened. Spock walked in saying, "I apologize for the delay. I was busy on the brid-" He stopped speaking when he saw House sitting at his computer typing away. "What are you doing?" he asked in his usual monotone.

"Trying to hack into your computer," House said nonchalantly. He didn't look up.

"Excuse me?" said Spock. Only a quick blink betrayed his surprise.

"You heard me," replied House, insufferable as ever.

Spock turned to look at the other occupant of his room. He met Wilson's eyes and saw a fearful expression cross the doctor's face. "I had nothing to do with this," Wilson said earnestly.

Spock looked back at House (still messing with the computer…), then back at Wilson, then back at House again. He stood silent for a moment, then nodded at Wilson and said, "I believe you." Wilson realized he'd been holding his breath, and released it, relieved.

Spock walked over to House and stood over him. House ignored him. He leaned over House a bit more. Still no response. With one hand on the back of the chair and one on the table, Spock leaned in front of House so that the doctor couldn't continue to ignore him. House leaned back in the chair and looked Spock in the face. For a few seconds, they stared silently at each other. "Interesting," said House lightly. Spock raised his eyebrows in a silent question. "You really look like Spock."

"I am Spock."

"Sure, you look like Spock," said House insolently, "but how can I really know? The ears could be faked easily." House gestured towards Spock's ears. He raised an eyebrow in response. "So could the eyebrows." House raised a hand to poke one of Spock's eyebrows.

Spock leaned his head away. "Do not touch me." House smirked and withdrew his hand. Spock moved back to his original position.

They stared at each other silently for a moment, then House's smirk grew into an evil smile. "Hey, guess what, Spock." Spock again raised his eyebrows questioningly. "I can use the Force!" House licked his index finger and jabbed towards Spock's face.

Spock jerked his head back, shifted his weight onto the arm braced on the table, and grabbed House's wrist with his other hand. "Don't," said Spock firmly, "do that again." He released House's hand, straightened, and stepped slightly away from the table. He regarded House coldly, then pushed a button on the intercom and said, "Spock here. I request that a member of security personnel come to my quarters to assist me with our two passengers."

"Aye, sir. I'll send someone right down," responded a voice that could only belong to Scotty.

"Spock out." The first officer looked back at House. "You will remain here with me so that I can question you."

"Why?" interrupted House.

"I must determine if you are working as a Klingon agent."

House looked surprised "I'm not." Spock raised an eyebrow dubiously.

"He isn't," added Wilson.

"We shall see," said Spock evenly. He turned to Wilson who now looked very worried for his friend. "The security guard that arrives will escort you to a room. You will remain there until I come to speak with you. If I determine that you are not a threat, you will be assigned that room to live in while you are aboard the Enterprise. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." Wilson slowly uncurled from the ball he had been sitting in for the past 15 minutes and stood up stiffly. Looking worried, he tentatively asked, "Um, sir? What if you do think that I'm a threat?"

"Then you will be escorted to the brig where you will remain until the Captain decides what to do with you," responded Spock neutrally. Wilson nodded to indicate that he understood, although he still looked very worried.

It wasn't long before a redshirt arrived. Spock stopped the man at the door and whispered his orders. The redshirt nodded and muttered, "Yes, sir." As Spock strode over to where House continued to sit, Wilson walked uncertainly over to the redshirt. The security guard gestured for Wilson to leave, but before he did, the oncologist met House's eyes and shared a nervous look with his friend. Then he left with the redshirt close behind.

The tallish, blond redshirt led Wilson steadily to another living area. Having calmed down, Wilson was able to take in his surroundings, not that the scenery was particularly interesting. Identical red doors interrupted the gray walls at regular intervals, and every so often an intercom panel would dot the wall. Occasionally, another hallway would branch off or split into two halls.

The two men remained silent for a while. Wilson glanced at his guide's face, and suddenly it dawned on him who this person was. "Aren't you one of the guys that brought us aboard?"

"Yep," he replied smiling. "My name's Leif Ericson. What's yours?"

"James Wilson." He paused and looked puzzled. "Is your name really Leif Ericson?"

They turned down another hall. "Yeah… my dad was an archaeologist and my mom was an anthropologist. They both specialized in studying the Vikings. My dad proposed on an archaeological dig, and they got married on a reenactment voyage."

"Wow. They were pretty…"

"Obsessed?"

"I was going to say passionate."

Leif chuckled, "Yeah, they were. And are, despite being retired." He rolled his eyes, but obviously had great affection for both of his parents. "My sister inherited their obsession. Me, not so much."

"Doesn't sound like they would have been too pleased about that," remarked Wilson.

"Actually, they didn't mind. They're the 'follow-your-dreams' sort, although I suspect they would have preferred it if I hadn't gone flying off halfway across the galaxy." Both of them laughed.

"Yeah, parents can be weird like that," said Wilson good-naturedly. "Not that I've been in the same position."

"Your parents don't care how far away from home you travel?"

"Uh, I never had the opportunity to go quite that far."

"Oh, yeah, 21st century. It's hard for me to imagine life with such primitive technology," said Leif tactlessly. Wilson raised an eyebrow and shot him an ironic look. "Uh, no offense," amended Leif quickly.

Wilson grinned. "None taken."

They finally reached Wilson's room. Leif opened the door, and they entered. It was a relatively small room with walls the same shade of gray as those in the hallways. It had only a few pieces of furniture, all of it very basic and purely functional, with the sole exception being a random potted plant in the far corner …whichwas tinged purple. The plant was located next to a desk which was also accompanied by a blue swivel chair and a floor lamp. On the opposite side of the room from the desk was the bed. It had a red quilt with gold flecks and a single, long, cylindrical pillow. The bed was set against a section of the wall which protruded outwards to form a ledge. Drawers had been set into this protruding section, presumably for more efficient storage. The room's storage capabilities were further enhanced by a smallish, currently empty closet set into the right-hand side wall. The room also had a panel for lighting controls, the door's lock, and the intercom which was right next to the door. Near the bed on the wall opposite the door was a vent with an open/close switch.

"Well, this is it," said Leif. "I know it's really simple, but it's comfortable, and we can always bring you a few things to decorate the place, like vases or paintings or whatever."

"Um, thanks for the offer," replied Wilson politely, "but… I still don't know if I'm going to get to stay here or not."

"Are they thinking about sending you back planet-side?" asked Leif.

"No. Well, probably. I don't know!" He paused. "They think I might be a threat."

"Are you?" asked Leif. Wilson looked confused. "I mean, have you done anything bad? That would make you a definite security issue." clarified Leif.

"I saw you guys."

"That doesn't count," said Leif. "Did you do anything deliberate, that could be construed as subversive or dangerous in some way?"

"No, but how am I going to prove that?"

Leif smiled and said enigmatically, "Mr. Spock has his ways of finding out."

Wilson stared at the redshirt awkwardly for a few moments. Then he said hesitantly, "Was that supposed to make me feel better?"

Now Leif was the one who felt awkward. "Errrm… yeaahh-"

"Because you made it sound like he was going to torture me. Or something."

"What?! No! That's not what I meant! I just - I meant that he can find out the truth for sure. He wouldn't torture you. No one here would." Leif looked shocked at the thought.

Wilson felt relieved at Leif's response, but he still had a question. "Okay… but… what does he do?"

"Mind meld." Leif answered.

"…What?"

"Mind meld. It's a Vulcan thing."

"…That didn't explain anything…."

"Yeah, I don't really know how to explain it. I've never been in one. You'd have to ask Mr. Spock." Leif looked at Wilson apologetically. "Sorry I can't be more help."

"Could you at least tell me what it is?" asked Wilson impatiently.

"Oh, uh, well, it's something that only Vulcans can do, but they can do it with other species. The person who does it basically, uh, melds his -or her- mind with the second person's so that you temporarily have one mind."

Wilson looked skeptical. "Oo-kaay…"

Leif shrugged. "If you don't believe me, you can always ask Mr. Spock."

"From what you've said, it sounds like he's going to do this mind meld thing with me anyway."

"If he has to, yeah," said Leif. Wilson looked nervous, so the man added. "It doesn't hurt."

Wilson sighed, then said, "That's not what I'm worried about."

"Spock is fair. You won't get in trouble just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I'm not worried about me. I'm worried about House." Wilson noticed the confused look on Leif's face. "My friend, the other guy that came up with me."

"Ah, him." Leif's expression turned sterner. "The one Mr. Spock says might be a Klingon agent."

"He isn't!" protested Wilson.

"He must have done something suspicious."

Wilson looked pained, "…He… tried to hack into Spock's computer."

"And you think he's innocent?" asked Leif in his best "how bloody stupid are you?" voice.

"He is!" insisted Wilson.

Leif raised an eyebrow disbelievingly. "Can you be absolutely sure of that?"

Wilson's face fell. "I'd like to think so," he murmured.

Leif gave Wilson a sympathetic half-smile. "If your friend is innocent, then Spock will find out." Wilson looked doubtful. "Don't worry, he'll probably mind meld with your friend. You can't hide anything in a mind meld. If he's guilty, Spock will find out. If he isn't, Spock will see that just as clearly."

Wilson nodded. Although he was still worried about House, he was satisfied that his friend would at least have a good chance of proving himself innocent.

If he was innocent.

Wilson stared down at his feet, lost in thought. Leif watched the doctor silently for a few moments, then turned and left him to his thoughts. As the door shut behind the redshirt, Wilson heard the lock click. He sighed, then turned around and walked over to his new bed. Wilson sat, staring forlornly at his hands. "House, you idiot," he whispered, "what have you gotten yourself into this time?"

Author's Note: I want to thank my wonderful betas Swiftshadow, kanboku91, and Chanah Emiliania for their time and advice.