Disclaimer: They aren't mine.

A/N: I haven't finished Cetera Desunt, but my muse just wouldn't let me abandon this story. So, here's the next chapter. Thanks to those of you that reviewed last time. The reviews really make my day. So please review this chapter; your reviews will be like chicken noodle soup for my swine flu/regular flu/bad cold/strep throat/other self.

A/N: Melissa, thanks for beta reading. I hope you enjoyed your present for beating Tech!

The conference was boring as hell.

The air-conditioning must have been weak, because he was sweating, despite having already taken off his jacket. It was not very exciting to listen to people ramble on about their work. He had to wonder again why he'd even bothered coming.

Oh, wait. Because she had wanted – ordered – him to.

He sighed and rested his head on his hand, failing to stifle a yawn as the presenter moved from one PowerPoint slide to the next. What did he care about the impact of malaria in some medically-backwards African country? This was such a waste of time. He hoped he'd be able to skip out early before having to give his own presentation.

But he knew she wouldn't like that at all, not after how she bitched at him to go in the first place.

"But it's in Cape Town! Do you know how far away that is?"

"Does it look like I care? You're going, and that's final!"

Okay, so she hadn't been quite that harsh. But that's how he liked to remember it. She was much more interesting when she was feisty and bossing him around…

A cell phone ring tone jerked him from his stupor. He smirked as a doctor with sandy-brown hair sitting a few places down from him at the conference table started and quickly stifled the ring tone, slight color rising in his cheeks from embarrassment. The presenter (Double D, he reminded himself) shot him a look of disapproval, but continued droning on with her report. The incident was so short, it was barely even worth noticing.

"Are there any questions?" Double D asked, ten merciless minutes later.

He groaned when one of the other doctors raised her hand. He just wanted to leave for lunch. The hand raisee was a female doctor to his left who asked some idiotic question about Double D's method of collection and interpretation of statistical data. Double D then began a long-winded about her methods and how they had insured a lack of bias and were fully accurate and representative of the population. He groaned again; this was never going to be over.

He couldn't help but notice that the doctor with sandy-brown hair looked just as eager to leave the conference as he was. Nor could he help but notice the fidgety doctor looked a lot like Jason Morgan from General Hospital, but he attributed that observation to boredom. While the other doctors around them were paying close attention and jotting notes down onto their legal pads in illegible doctor chicken scratch, Jason was sitting on the edge of his chair with his hands positioned on the table, clearly ready to push back and flee the room as soon as the presentation was over. Jason kept checking his watch and darting his eyes nervously to the pocket where he had restored his cell phone. Clearly something about that call had gotten his attention. He made a mental note to follow Jason out of the conference room.

Double D coughed and looked at the clock. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "I think we've run out of time. If anyone has more questions, please find me during the lunch hour." He could tell some of the other male doctors were more than ready to take her up on this offer.

Jason immediately pushed back from the conference table and headed toward the exit. Without hesitation, he grabbed his cane and followed Jason out the door. Jason was heading for one of the corners, his cell phone already in hand. He watched the other doctor frown at the number of the call.

He soon reached where Jason was standing, but hung back slightly. Jason didn't even notice him, as he began to speak into the receiver. "What happened?" Jason asked urgently. At whatever response he received, Jason eyes widened. "When?"

"What do you mean they were shot? Did they have the medicine with them?" More worry-lines appeared. "Who died?" he asked in a shaky voice. "What do you mean you don't know which one died?" Almost hysterical now.

"Mary Holden and Allison Cameron!"

House's head snapped up. What? Had he heard Jason correctly? Didn't he just say – but he couldn't have. Cameron wasn't here, in Africa. She was working for Yule, in Philadelphia, safely back in the United States….This was clearly another Allison Cameron…

"Hair color? Brown hair, both of them."

A lot of people have brown hair…

"You know what?" Jason was shouting now. "I'll just have to come back and see for myself, then, won't I? You are clearly no help. I expected better," he finished and snapped the phone shut. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall.

House remained rooted to his spot. What were the chances that…But no, it couldn't be her…could it? And what if she was the one who…?

He had to find out. And there was only one way…

"Excuse me," he said in a quiet voice, approaching Jason. "Are you all right?"

Jason looked up. His eyes were wet with tears. "I – I'm sorry," he said, hastily wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "I just received a phone call – bad news…"

"Oh," said House, "what happened?"

"It's – ah – it's my girlfriend," Jason answered. "She and another member of the clinic I work at were returning from retrieving medicine and it appears someone shot at them. I was just talking to the police…they said one of the women died, but they don't know which one…They just know she has brown hair, but they both do…"

"I'm so sorry," House said. "How far away is the clinic?"

"Not far, thankfully," he replied. "It's the Simelela Clinic in Khayelitsha." He sighed heavily. "I need to leave…I have to find out who died. And what happened to the one who didn't – the police don't seem to know that either."

"Do you want someone to come with you?" House asked. "Moral support, you know?"

Jason considered him. "If you don't mind missing the conference…"

House scoffed. "Oh, that's no problem. I'm only here because my boss wouldn't take no for an answer…It's fine if I have to leave early."

Jason frowned. "You haven't done your presentation yet."

"Neither have you."

"Touché," Jason murmured. He seemed to consider this word for a moment before sticking out his hand and saying, "Danny Weiss."

"Greg House," he said, shaking Weiss' hand. Damn, the guy had a real name. "Does this mean I'm in?"

Weiss nodded. "Let's go."

She was jolted awake suddenly by the shooting pain in her arm. Wincing, she sat up in the bed – a hospital bed? She tried to remember what had happened. They had been walking back with the medicine, and then they'd heard the shots, and then…

She looked down at her arm. Her wrist was bound tightly in an Ace bandage. She supposed she must have hurt it when she'd fallen…or had she dived?

"Ah, you're awake," the doctor said, hurrying over. He pointed to her wrist. "Nasty sprain there. Looks like you fell on it pretty hard. It's going to be sore for awhile as it heals." He made a note on her chart. "Can I get you anything?"

"More painkillers?" she asked hopefully.

The doctor nodded. "I'll get some right away." He turned to leave, but she stopped him.

"Wait…" He turned around and looked at her. "Do you know what happened to…?"

"She died," the doctor said softly. "She had lost too much blood. I'm sorry…there was just nothing more we could do."

Tears filled her eyes as the doctor left for the medicine. She couldn't believe someone had been murdered for the antibiotics…And after all they had been through together…And it could have just as easily been her. And, oh God –

What was Weiss going to say?

A/N: Dun dun dun. Next chapter to be posted soon!