Disclaimer - See Chapter 1

Author's Note - First of all apologies if the Bank of Philadelphia really is a bank. I'm British and have never been to America so I just came up with a name. If the Bank of Philadelphia is a real company than it can be added to the disclaimer. Only one newly edited chapter today as I've had to completely rewrite the first half of this one. I advise that you read this chapter again, even if you have read the original, just the get the gist of things. Thank you for all the reviews. Please keep them coming. I love all my reviewers; even the one's who criticise!

January 17th 1998 - Bank of Philadelphia

Omar Booker had never been the most conventional of bankers. His people skills would often leave much to be desired and his advice could be described by some as controversial. However, he had climbed the promotional ladder at The Bank of Philadelphia speedily and effectively by presenting impressive results to his superiors. While his colleagues secretly accused him of faking them there was in fact no denying it, Omar was good at his job. He would take the time to read up on each of his customers before meeting them and on their arrival would take a moment to analyse their behaviour while entering some meaningless information on a fake spreadsheet. This gave him the edge over his fellow employees, the ability to become the character that the customer before him would respond mostly to. Should that require him to be blunt and insulting or charming and friendly, Omar would do whatever it took to get what he wanted.

Today's 3 o'clock was a difficult man to sum up. On a first glance he looked well off, respectable even, but his finance history disagreed with this. So did his body language. On entering the room he had appeared nervous, as though he was having a meeting with his boss which would inevitably end in him getting fired. Omar smiled to himself. Perhaps this was true. After all, it was clear that the customer knew that things weren't going well, and that he had been asked to make an appointment because of a decision made by the bank's superiors.

Omar decided to begin the conversation in the character he found most people responded to - harsh and matter of fact. He looked down at the file lying on his desk to remind him of the customer's name before beginning.

"Mr Holloway, I've called you here today to tell you some bad news. The bank has decided to recall all its loans to you and your company 'Holloway Motors'. Too much money has been lost on you Mr Holloway. Your company is a black hole. The bank's superiors have advised this recall. There is nothing I can do to stop it."

The customer began to protest, but his attempts were futile. It soon became apparent that what had been said was true. There was nothing that could be done to stop the recall. "What can I do? I'm getting married in three weeks. I'll have the beginnings of a family and no money." Mr Holloway asked.

Omar sighed. He had misinterpreted this man. It was clear that behind a misleading exterior lay the heart of a man who truly cared. A man who tried desperately to do what was best but had been battered by multiple failures. Now Omar was presenting him with another in the cruellest possible way. He realised that he must change his tact quickly. He softened his voice and made his expression more sympathetic than punishing. "I'm afraid the best thing you can do is sell your company and announce yourself bankrupt." Mr Holloway looked at the floor and Omar could see his hopes for the future dashing away in an instant. In a poor attempt to console the man sat in front of him Omar uttered the nine words that would change the course of one woman's life forever. "I hope for your sake your fiancée is rich."

Dr Eric Foreman was stood at the end of Mark's bed collecting the few dregs of a history this patient seemed to have. He'd searched the medical records for "Owen Miller" but received only the results of a six-year-old boy from Boston. When he'd asked Mark why this was he'd muttered something about moving around the country a lot and the records must have got mixed up. While Foreman doubted that this was the case he had to accept that this was a possibility and so set about getting as much information as possible.

"Any history of diabetes in your family?" Foreman looked across at Mark, who looked a little unsure of himself.

"I don't know. I'm adopted and have never tried to contact my biological family." Mark shot him an apologetic smile.

"So you wouldn't know about any heart or lung disease, or a history of cancer?" Mark shook his head and Foreman sighed in reply.

"Where's Dr Holloway?" Mark asked. "She said she'd be helping out with the history thing after you did the MRI. Stood you up has she?"

Foreman frowned. "Dr Cameron is collecting the MRI results. She'll be here when she's done. As for Dr Holloway, there isn't one in this hospital."

"Sorry." Foreman let it drop, but decided to remember it for later.

"Do you know what vaccinations you've had Mr Miller?"

"I know I had everything I was supposed to when I was a kid. I haven't had anything for a while, not since I went to India a few years ago. Was I supposed to?"

"Unlikely," Foreman reassured him, "but we'll have to check once we've sorted out your records. That'll be all for now. Has Dr Chase done your physical yet?" Mark nodded in confirmation.

Foreman left the room and looked over his notes. Barely anything was there. House wouldn't be pleased, but that wasn't what bothered him. He looked up to see Allison coming out of the lift and called her over.

"I'm worried about the patient. He's showing definite signs of memory loss and possibly even a mental disorder."

Cameron looked concerned, although it wouldn't surprise her. In her book only someone seriously messed up would fake their own death. "What gave you that idea?"

"He referred to you as Dr Holloway again."

Cameron's heart sank. Mark hadn't given up. Would he spend his whole time at the hospital secretly tormenting her? "He's done that twice, Foreman. He's probably just got me confused with someone else."

"Yeah, and I've corrected him twice. I've made sure he knew. On top of that you've introduced yourself to him and members of staff have referred to you as 'Cameron' God knows how many times around him."

"You're over reacting." Allison tried hard to defend Mark's behaviour, and her secret.

"Don't you think it's a little odd?"

"Yeah, a little but aren't you looking too far outside the box. You haven't even disproved your fatigue and indigestion theory yet."

"Looking outside the box is what we're employed to do. I'm going to speak to House about this." Foreman made as though to walk off, but was stopped by Cameron blurting out his name. He looked back to her with and mixed expression of surprise and intrigue.

Cameron sighed. She hadn't intended to call Foreman back, it had just jumped out. It was as though her subconscious had decided the correct course of action for her. She was going to have to say something. She checked down the corridor before leading Foreman into an empty room.

"Why the secrecy?" Foreman was rapidly becoming confused.

"Just hear me out on this one Eric please. Don't go jumping to conclusions or anything. Just let me talk." She used his Christian name in an attempt to appeal to 'Foreman the Friend' rather than 'Foreman the Colleague'. "The patient's name isn't Owen Miller. What medical records you've found on him are probably fake, or just not his. His real name is Mark Holloway." Allison faltered. She couldn't believe she was actually telling somebody this. It was humiliating for starters but this person's life, and death, had been kept secret from almost everyone she knew today. Now, suddenly, the truth was coming out. She looked at the floor.

"He's my husband."