A/n: As I'm sure everyone knows - new season starts tomorrow! But once again, this fic will not take into account anything that happened after 'Love Hurts'. Some elements of characterization or backstory revealed in the new episodes might find their way in, but that will take a while - I have quite a few chapters already written, so those probably won't be influenced.

Also, thanks to everyone for all the lovely reviews! Sorry for the cliffhanger last time around, and hopefully this chapter will live up to the suspense.

Watching House push unapologetically through the doors to her office was by no means an unfamiliar thing for Lisa Cuddy. Knocking did not tend to be his strong suit; as far as he was concerned, if you didn't want company the door would have been locked. Particularly as she'd summoned him here this time...

And right now, she couldn't have cared less about the damned door.

"You rang?" the other doctor asked, crossing the office to her desk and leaning idly on his cane. Behind the facade of amiability, she could see suspicion in his eyes, but that was all. So he didn't know yet. Even he wasn't a good enough actor to seem so unaffected if he knew.

"Sit down," she said wearily, waving at the empty chair.

He was frowning now, but after a moment he folded his long frame into the indicated seat, never taking his eyes off her. "I'm here. I'm sitting. Your turn."

Cuddy sighed and looked down, turning a sheet of paper in her hands. It, and the envelope it had come in, were the only bits of paperwork on her typically more crowded desk. "This was in my mail when I came in this morning."

"I don't suppose it's good news." The confusion in his voice was suddenly edged by concern.

She shook her head as he looked at her. "It's not about me, House. I was sent this because I'm your employer, as a courtesy. I don't know why you don't have your copy yet..."

Without saying a word, he thrust out his hand. She gave it to him, watched helplessly as he read it, bits and pieces flashing back through her own mind.

'INS'...'has come to our attention'...'illegal resident'...'falsified documents'...'deported'...'England'...

It took him too long to read the relatively brief document. Probably going over and over the letters, willing them to form a pattern that made sense. She'd done the same.

Anger flashed into his eyes as comprehension dawned, and his face was grim as he finally looked up. "Vogler."

"Yeah, that was my guess." It shouldn't have surprised her that something of this nature would happen. By taking his money back, Vogler had punished the hospital, punished her...but House, the worst offender of all, had been only too glad to see the back of him. So he had to pay some other way -

But who could have anticipated this? Still reeling inside, Cuddy watched him set the paper back on her desk, picked it up and folded it quickly, fighting the urge to rip it in half. She hesitated, then, "Is it..."

"True?" he asked, in a voice that would have sounded idle to most of the world. "Yeah. Want me to dust off the accent and prove it to you? I'll warn you, it's been a while, but I'll give it a jolly good -"

"What happened?"

His mouth twisted slightly. "Nothing much to tell. My dad brought the family over when I was three. I know we weren't that well off at first, and I suppose it's not really a surprise our papers weren't a hundred percent genuine. But it's never been a problem..."

"Until he," Cuddy almost spat the pronoun, "hired bloodhounds with magnifying glasses to go over every inch of your life, I suppose."

He tipped his head, a quiet, dispirited movement that worried her. "As you say."

There was silence for a moment, then she burst out, "So, what are you going to do?"

House eyed her sardonically. "Leave, I guess. There are worse places to be deported to than England. I'm told they even have hospitals over -"

"That's not what I meant!" She saw him quirking a brow at her vehemency, but didn't stop. "There have to be ways you can fight this."

He just looked at her. After a moment, she sighed and dropped her gaze. He was right, damn it. Of course there were myriad ways he could have obtained legal citizenship...were it not for a certain very wealthy and powerful man who had surely anticipated and blocked every one of them.

"My own fault, really." His tone was light, mocking. "I could have taken care of this any time over the years, but it just never came up..."

House trailed off and the quiet hung heavily between them again. Her mind churned furiously, with a desperation that was somehow fueled by his unusual resignation. "What about -"

It was almost a relief when he suddenly glared at her. "There's nothing," he snapped, his usual control frayed to breaking. "Do you think I want this? My life might not be a damn paradise, but I'm used to it, so no, I don't feel like being uprooted, but there's nothing."

"One thing," Cuddy said softly. "He couldn't contest it..."

He stared at her a moment, realized what she meant, and made a sound of disgust.

She bulled on, unheeding. "Think about it. I'm sure Cameron would -"

"Save me," House bit off viciously. "Yeah, I'm sure, too. After all, the last guy she married was dying of cancer when she met him, so I'm sure an illegal alien would be a real step up."

The words stung like a blow; she didn't know Cameron well enough to exchange confidences, and hadn't been aware of that part of her past.

"I told her as much when I took her on that 'date' that's been all over the hospital," he said. "Even then she thought I'd make a fine charity case, so you can imagine how she'd foam at the mouth over this."

Cuddy sighed, softly, knowing that while he wasn't truly angry with his young staffer, he meant every damn stubborn word. Knew that he'd rather be forced out of the country than sacrifice his pride. Even knew, though she wanted not to care, that such an arrangement wouldn't be good for Cameron, either.

But it was hard to think about Cameron in the face of this. True, as he'd said, England was hardly a death sentence. No doubt he'd find work there quickly and get on well enough. And yet.

She'd never say as much to House, but the thought of him living entirely with strangers worried her. Even here, where he had his staff looking up to him and Wilson for a friend and, yes, her, he wasn't what you could call well-off. The pills alone...since the 'Great Vicodin Experiment', his consumption hadn't increased - but neither had it decreased.

And so she worried. And as she sat here, shocked and furious, she knew there was also a selfish side to her protests. It had been bad enough when she'd expected Vogler to thrust him out of the hospital, but this...

Greg House was an asset to her hospital. She said it often, and knew it was true. However, she'd also grown - what was his word? - used to having him around. 'Friend' didn't seem to apply to their relationship, but he was her colleague and sparring partner, someone who could cheer her up even as he drove her crazy. It was impossible to picture the place without him.

Even so, she didn't know if she'd ever fully understand what had happened next, what mad impulse had driven her to open her mouth and say, "Forget Cameron, then. What about me?"

A/n: No, if you were wondering, I haven't more than the barest notion of immigration laws, or exactly how much Vogler would be able to influence. I came across a copy of a Hugh Laurie interview, and wondered what would happen if character and actor had a bit more in common.

The basic idea came from a Romano/Elizabeth ER fanfiction I read ages ago, but have since lost. (If anyone knows what I'm talking about, let me know and I'll post a link.) I couldn't resist adapting it to House.

Anyway, sincere apologies for having most likely bent reality six ways from Sunday in order to fit my plot. If anyone has an idea for how I could make this more plausible without distorting said plot, I'm all ears.