The ride back up from the basement was silent and awkward. Wilson seemed lost in his thoughts, so House decided not to press matters further. He had to get things straight in his own mind before he started trying to explain things to his friend. He needed to get his team to run some tests on this miracle man first, he wanted proof – not some quick scans and an 'Oh My God, you're cured!' proclamation. Clinical proof.

It was due to his unfurling mind, he had the bad luck to run into Cuddy as he made his way back from checking his own patient, who was still critically ill. He glanced around, searching out an escape route before surrendering to her wrath. He considered suggesting that she tattoo 'House. Clinic. Now!' on her forehead, but soon changed his mind as she dragged him to the side of the corridor by his elbow. She did not look happy.

"Dr Cuddy-" he started, attempting to charm her.

"Listen!" she cut him off before he could even begin to talk his way out it. "Either you did give this patient something, in which case you're lucky he didn't die," she pointed a menacing finger at him, "or, you're actually being honest, for a change, and you didn't." she paused, taking in his non-committal reaction. "Either way, I've got the patient's family coming in an hour, Wilson is having a breakdown because he thinks he's going to be sued, and I need people in the clinic. And by people, I mean you."

"Dr Cuddy – I don't know what to say!" Cuddy rolled her eyes at House's show; she didn't have time for this. "I told you before – I'm just not into bondage! If you want me to do clinic duty, all you have to do is ask!" several nurses giggled at that exclamation.

"Just go." Cuddy managed to growl through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to slap that smirk from his face.

House made his way, agonizingly slowly, down to the clinic. At least you'll be able to think down there, without being interrogated by your team every five minutes...

He picked up his first chart and entered the exam room, finding his first patient to be an overweight, forty something year old woman...with heartburn. Oh brother...

"So, lets recap," he said after hearing her tale of pathetic woe, "You get a pain, near your heart, after eating and especially while you try and sleep..." the woman nodded. "So you thought it would be a good idea to take a day off work to come here, rather than spend ten minutes in a pharmacy?" the woman stopped nodding.

"Huh?" It was obviously a more complex question that House originally thought.

"You've tried the over-the-counter stuff?" he asked hopefully, twisting on his stool to grab a stethoscope.

"Oh no, I'd have to pay if I used that – if I get it here, I can claim it back on my medical insurance." she replied matter-of-factly.

House stared at her blankly, snapping out of it when the woman cleared her throat. She was beginning to regret seeing this strange doctor. "What about the day you took off work to come here? I'm hazarding a wild guess here, but I think you've probably lost more money than you've saved." he said, inwardly rolling his eyes in exasperation.

The woman frowned, apparently she hadn't thought of it that way. "Oh..."

"Since you came all this way, it'd be cruel not to examine you, wouldn't it?" the woman nodded again, not taking the sarcasm as it was originally intended. I'm surprised you don't have a bad neck too...dangerous thing, all that mundane agreeing with absolutely everything.

He wheeled himself over to where she was positioned on the examination bed, motioning for her to pull her top down slightly. Just check her heart, give her a script and get her out. Or...he looked at his left hand, a thought suddenly occurring to him.

He pressed the stethoscope piece against her chest with his right hand, hesitantly moving his left up to hold it on. He felt the, now familiar, beginnings of something charging through his fingertips. This was it. The woman gasped as she felt a sharp jolt in her chest, House recoiled with his arm cradled protectively against his chest.

He quickly recovered, "Wow, did you feel that? I think it was static from this damned stool!" he feigned shock as he tore off a script. "Take this, twice a day." The woman stared at the script, puzzled. "For your heartburn..." House clarified. The woman nodded, again. "Goodbye." Take the hint! Leave!

As she left, House frowned. There has to be a better way to prove the theory. He didn't plan to follow the fat lady around just to see if the heartburn ever returned. He needed something physical. Something that he could see. Something like...

He grinned as the next patient hobbled in. Something exactly like that. The young man had clearly sprained something, maybe even broken something. House had to stop himself from rubbing his hands together in anticipation as the boy limped unsteadily over to the gurney.

"What happened to you?" he asked expectantly, holding his hand out for the young man's chart.

"I, uh...broke up with my girlfriend," the boy stammered, clearly in more pain than he wanted to admit, "and she – she...ran over my foot with her mom's car-"

"How big was the car?" House asked tentatively, yet unable to hide the gleam in his eye. Please be something big.

The boy looked a little confused. "It was – one of those – Ford Explorer things."

"An SUV?" House couldn't believe his luck, this guys foot was broken for sure. "Oh yeah!" he said triumphantly, quickly putting his best serious face on to regard the patient. "There's a good chance there's no damage to your foot." he said sincerely.

"Are you kidding, doc? I heard the bones snap!" the boy paled as he recalled the sound that came from his foot falling victim to the large car. "I think I'm going to be sick..."

"Were you wearing sneakers?" House asked, ignoring the peculiar shade of white that his patient had taken as he pulled the sock from his foot. The boy answered in the affirmative, stealing a glance at what the doctor was doing.

"It's fixable." House lied. Whoa! Nasty – I'm surprised you managed to get here on this mangled mess! "Just tilt your head back" the boy complied, staring up at the ceiling. "I'm gonna crack it back into shape, just don't pass out."

Okay, this is it. Full, undeniable, physical proof. House took a deep breath and grasped the young man's foot in his left hand, ignoring the yelp of surprise that came with the contact. The pain shot up his arm with more force this time, almost choking him. When it became too much, he broke contact, slouching forward and gasping for air.

"Wow!" the boy's voice drew him back to reality. "What did you do?" he sounded elated. It must have worked. House looked up, squinting against the bright exam room lights. The foot. It was fixed. All that remained was some residual bruising. He'd done it. Holy shit...are you sure you're ready for this?

He ripped off another script. "For the pain" he rasped, holding it out in his right hand for the youth to take. His left hand was taking it's time to recover, trembling and feeling uncomfortably numb.

"What pain? You fixed it." the boy smiled, patting House on the shoulder before striding confidently out of the room, still wearing only one shoe.

House stared at his hand, willing it to stop shaking. The tremor was really beginning to annoy him...as well as being slightly concerning. He looked up to find Wilson staring at him, a frown plastered over his face. "Was that guy smiling?" he asked, screwing his face into an even bigger frown at the possibility.

House smirked despite himself. "I gave him $20 to leave me alone." he lied, rolling himself over to the far wall on the stool. "Do you need something? 'Cos some of us are trying to work here..." House desperately wanted to try out his new toy on more patients; Wilson's presence was getting in his way.

"I'm hiding." Wilson admitted, closing the door behind him as he entered.

"Yeah, in a clinic. This is the last place anyone would even dream of looking for a doctor." House stated, frowning at the way his friend simply nodded in agreement. "What?"

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" Wilson asked, folding his arms over his chest. "They're opening an inquiry, questioning my entire department – they want to know how I managed to screw up such a clear cut case..." he hissed, pointing to the door. Uh oh...this is one of those 'us and them' conversations House thought, avoiding eye contact with Wilson completely. Emotional blackmail;, Wilson's own personal interrogation technique.

"I came here, hoping that you'd own up – admit to giving him something, or dosing him...or..." he blew out an annoyingly shaky breath. House managed to keep his tongue under control, refraining from telling Wilson to stop being so melodramatic. "The board is investigating my entire department, I don't even know what they expect to find!" Wilson sighed. He'd been mulling over it long enough, and it still didn't make sense. He'd convinced himself that House would know what happened.

"You didn't screw up. The board has no right to investigate you, or your department." House tried to be reassuring, Wilson wasn't buying it.

"How can you explain a terminally ill man waking up from inoperable lung cancer? Cancer I diagnosed, myself!"

"Spontaneous Remission…?" House suggested quietly, ducking when Wilson threw his hands up in exasperation. Jesus, calm down before you have a heart attack!

"You – there's no way…" Wilson spluttered, screwing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. His weepy pose.

"Oh, don't be like that." House said angrily, dragging himself from his sitting position and starting to pace. He faltered slightly on the first step, quickly recovering and using it to add to his apparent frustration at Wilson. "You want me to admit to something that I didn't do, just so you don't get sued by this 'poor' guy's family?" he turned to face Wilson, who was watching him intently, "He didn't die! They should be sending you a fruit basket, not serving you with a lawsuit!" Wilson was staring at him intently now, frowning at the Diagnostician's anger.

"You haven't even been to see him, since he woke up," he started, slowly coming to his own realisation, "You've sent your team, you've asked for tests, you haven't even asked about the patient…"

"Why would I? He's healthy-"

"Because he's healthy; because he's cured; because you were the last person to see him dying; because he's an anomaly." Wilson was growing steadily louder, making House increasingly uncomfortable. "You haven't been to see him, because you know why he's cured." he paused, waiting for confirmation.

House wavered his gaze between Wilson's hideously ugly tie and a tuft of hair that seemed to be rebelling against his otherwise meticulous hairstyle. When he finally did make eye contact with his accuser, he spoke slowly and forcefully. "I did not give him anything. No amount of useless testing will change that fact. I don't need to see him. He's not ill." he broke eye contact in favour of glaring at his left hand.

"Maybe you did make a mistake." he concluded, missing the look of hurt that flashed over the Oncologist's face before he turned to get out of the room. The fact that House was adamant about not giving his patient anything wasn't convincing enough for Wilson. He had a feeling his so-called-friend was hiding something. If that's how he wants to play it…

"Maybe that's not the only mistake I've made." the younger man hissed in return, slamming the door behind him. No other statement shouted 'You're on your own, buddy!' as much as that one.

House sat heavily back onto the stool, his mind screaming at him. What the hell are you doing? "If he doesn't know about it, he can't stop you." And if he gets his license suspended? "For what? He's done nothing wrong!" Yeah…that's why you're arguing about it with yourself… "Good point."

House groaned. This wasn't going well at all. Now, being on the wrong side of Wilson, he had no one to turn to. What if something goes wrong? Who's gonna help you now?

TBC…