Alice was about to launch into her explanation when her cell phone rang. She checked the number – it had a Florida prefix. If it was the attorney calling from Collins and Lukowzski she needed to take the call. She held up a hand to House and answered the phone, not missing the furious expression on his face at being made to wait.

"Alice McKenzie."

"Ms McKenzie, this is Frank Collins, returning your call."

"Thanks for calling me back, Mr Collins. I believe your firm might have represented Simon Ferguson in a medical malpractice claim in Florida and I'm just calling to see if you have any comment you could give me."

Alice made sure to meet House's eyes as she spoke, hoping her words would help him to understand what was going on. Sure enough, his fury slowly morphed into puzzlement and curiosity. The anger was still there though, Alice could see that.

She put the phone on loudspeaker so House could hear the lawyer's responses.

"I have no comment for you Ms McKenzie."

"But surely you can tell me just a little about how you successfully gained a large settlement for your client. I'm writing a story about medical mistakes and Mr Ferguson was very complimentary about your firm's services." It was a wild stab in the dark and Alice hoped it might be vaguely enough on target – and that Frank Collins might have a big enough ego – that he'd fall for it.

"Any settlement we did or did not gain for Mr Ferguson would be protected by attorney-client privilege, Ms McKenzie, you should know that."

Bingo! "Ah, so Mr Ferguson was one of your clients," Alice asked. God, this guy wasn't the smartest card in the deck.

"Uh," the attorney faltered, knowing he'd been caught. "I didn't say that."

"Thank you for your time Mr Collins." Alice hung up before he could say anything further.

"So you're writing that medical malpractice story after you told me you wouldn't." House said, his voice carefully neutral.

"Yes, but Greg, let me explain."

"Why should I?"

"Because I think Wilson is being targeted by a conman and I think we can stop him. But I need your help to do it and we only have a few hours to work everything out. I have to have the story submitted by tonight's deadline so it's published before the hospital settles."

He still looked doubtful.

"I know, I betrayed your trust, and I've felt terrible about lying to you. But just give me a few hours. Let's see if we can solve this. Then we can sort out everything else." Alice gave him a pleading look, realising just how much she needed him to say yes. If he refused to help her, then she'd have lost everything – the story and him.

"What do you need me to do? If – and it's a big if – I decided to help?"

Alice was once again reminded of how much she'd put on the line. She had to convince House to help. She took a deep breath and tried to hold herself a little straighter, just so she'd feel more confident. Holding his gaze steadily, she began.

"Okay. Simon Ferguson is the guy that's suing Wilson for malpractice. That lawyer practically gave away the fact that Ferguson has already successfully sued another doctor in another state. I think Simon Ferguson knew that he didn't have cancer before he saw Wilson. But I don't have proof, not enough for me to publish. I need evidence – preferably from the doctor that treated him. As well as having done this deliberately, I think Simon's exaggerating how sick the chemotherapy has made him to boost the settlement from Princeton Plainsboro. There's something strange going on: he's sick, really sick, but when I asked Wilson about that when we had dinner, he said he thought someone who'd had one round of chemo should be getting better by now."

House shook his head. "I knew those questions were weird. I meant to ask you about them later," he muttered, seeming angry with himself for missing following up on it.

"I know, I know. But as I said, let's deal with you and me after this. For now, time's running out."

House took in a deep breath and let it out noisily. "Okay. Sick you say? Let's get to the bottom of that. Then we can work out where to start calling the 35,000 or so doctors practicing in Florida."

Alice didn't miss the sarcasm.

He picked up the phone and dialled a page. "We're gonna need help."

------------------------------------------------

Alice had heard a lot about House's team from House – most of it uncomplimentary. But under his barbed comments, Alice figured they must be pretty sharp: he wouldn't have hired them otherwise. Still, she was surprised by the motley assembly of three doctors who wandered into the conference room in answer to House's page. Thirteen was prettier than she'd imagined, but also a bit distant and haughty. Despite her attractiveness, Alice didn't feel the least sense of jealousy. Kutner had a warm smile and Alice felt he was probably the one whose company she'd enjoy the most. Taub she recognised by process of elimination; he was older than she'd expected.

"People, I have a diagnostic challenge for you."

The three sighed wearily and took places around the table where Alice had perched herself at one end.

"Who's she?" Taub asked bluntly.

"This is Alice," House announced before Alice could introduce herself.

"The Touch Myself chick?" Kutner asked with a grin.

"Yes. And no one will be touching her today."

"You mentioned a challenge?" Thirteen asked irritably, cutting through the banter.

"We need to diagnose a patient that we can't see or talk to. All we have is a chart that's incorrect and second-hand information from a non-medical observer."

"What?" Taub asked. "Why can't we examine the patient? This will be impossible if we can't run tests."

"Just shut up with the complaints and let's get to work."

Alice wondered if he always spoke so sharply to his team. They didn't seem to flinch, so she supposed he did.

He stood next to a whiteboard, marker in hand. "Alice, tell us what you saw when you met this guy."

Alice realised how much depended on her giving the right information. She closed her eyes, trying to recall everything about Simon Ferguson, starting from the top of his head and working down.

"His hair was thinning. He had a sweaty face, pale skin, but pink cheeks – he was flushed. He had a cough, a phlegmy cough like a smoker, and seemed to find it hard to breathe. His hands shook. He'd lost weight, quite a lot, and I'd guess it happened suddenly, because his clothes didn't fit properly. He was a little unsteady on his feet. I think he was coughing blood, I saw little specks of it on his mouth and found a blood-stained tissue in his bathroom."

Alice opened her eyes and found that House had filled the whiteboard with words as she'd spoken. Some were medical terms she had never seen before, others made more sense: fever, alopecia, tremors.

House gave her a nod, as if he was proud of her careful recollection.

"On top of all this," House summarised, "whatever it is that he's got looked enough like cancer on an x-ray that an oncologist thought it was cancer. But it wasn't."

"Cancer but not cancer," Taub said. "Have we been here before?"

"Just think of it as Groundhog Day without Bill Murray," House snapped back.

"He told me he had bronchitis," Alice said, remembering that and figuring that anything was important. "That he'd got it because the chemo had weakened his immune system. He said he was getting lots of bugs."

"That's a perfectly logical. If the bronchitis is bad enough, he could be coughing blood," Thirteen said confidently. Alice's heart sank a little.

"This guy had chemo, but didn't have cancer?" Taub asked.

"Yes. One cycle."

"If this guy had chemo that caused neutropenia then his doctors would have him in hospital if a bronchitis infection was that serious."

"What if he was deliberately avoiding being treated?" Alice asked.

"Then he's an idiot," Taub answered.

"I think we've already firmly established that," House said drily.

"No, wait," Kutner said, thinking aloud. "He had a disease that could be mistaken for cancer. And then the chemo weakened his immune system and made that disease worse . . . A disease that would cause all those symptoms: fever, sweats, cough, weight loss . . . "

"You're conveniently ignoring the six or so other symptoms on the board," Taub pointed out.

"No, but what if they're symptoms from the chemo? Separate to the disease?" Kutner countered.

House began circling some of the words he'd written on the board. "So the chemo accounts for these. And what's left is . . . "

"TB," Kutner announced triumphantly.

"But TB—" Thirteen began.

"But TB fits perfectly," House interrupted. "Lung shadows can be mistaken for cancerous growths. It fits all these symptoms. And with a weakened immune system caused by the chemo it would mutate into—"

"Miliary tuberculosis," Taub said. "You're right."

House turned to Alice. "How much time have you spent with this guy?"

Alice frowned. "Not long. A few hours maybe."

"Did he cough?"

"Yeah, I—"

"You were close enough to see the blood on his lips," House said with a sigh. He gave a look to Taub who jumped up from the table.

"On it." He quickly left the room.

"What?" Alice asked.

"You've just won yourself at least two month's worth of four different antibiotics until we get a proper test result to find out if you've got it too. And if you have, you can look forward to a year's worth of yummy pills."

"Right." House put the marker down and sat heavily in one of the chairs. "Next steps. We have to find this guy, put him in isolation and treat him, because the stupid bastard is probably going to die soon if we don't."

"Oh, God, really?" Alice knew Simon was sick, but she didn't think it was that serious.

"Yeah, like I wouldn't advise he rent any new release DVDs. The late fees on those are a killer."

"Thirteen, Kutner, get the guy's address from Alice and go bring him in. Take some cops with you, because he might be a little cranky that we've ruined his evil genius plan."

Alice quickly scribbled down Simon Ferguson's address on a scrap of paper and handed it to Thirteen.

A moment later House and Alice were left alone.

"You know, even though I've been suspicious of him all along, I still find it hard to believe that someone would do this deliberately," Alice said.

"Alice, it's still not much. It doesn't prove any malicious intent. So the guy's got TB? And Wilson made a mistake? It doesn't change anything."

"I know, but . . . " Alice got up and paced around the room. "I'm sure there's something more to this. Florida." She turned to House and put her hands on her hips. "What if the same thing happened in Florida? A doctor mistook TB for cancer, he sued and won. So then Simon realises that he's got a potential gold mine in his lungs: a disease easily mistaken for cancer that could win him a lawsuit. So he refuses treatment and goes on the road, hoping to find another doctor to make the same mistake, someone he can sue again."

"TB is reportable," House said, building on her train of thought, "so he'd have to leave the state." He jumped up and headed into his office.

"What?" Alice quickly followed him.

"I'm going to look up the public health records in Florida. If we can find the doctor who listed him, we might have a lead."

Alice perched on the edge of the desk while House gained access to the database and searched the records. It took a long time, and he'd already gone back six months with no luck when Alice's cell phone rang again.

"Alice, it's Max."

"Hi Max, any luck with your legal connections in Florida?"

"Alice I'm—"

"ALICE MCKENZIE, WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

House turned to stare, the voice was loud enough to be heard on the other side of the room, even through the tinny speaker in Alice's cell.

"My boss," she mouthed silently.

"Michael, I'm—"

"MAX SAYS YOU'RE WORKING A NEW ANGLE TO THIS STORY AND THAT YOU'RE ABOUT TO LOSE YOUR SOURCE TO A COURT ORDER. I SWEAR, ALICE, IF YOU DON'T HAVE THAT STORY ON MY DESK BY DEADLINE TONIGHT YOU ARE NOT EVEN COMING BACK TO CLEAN OUT YOUR DESK!"

"Sorry Alice, but I was following up the Florida lead and Mad-Eye came in—" Max began.

"It's okay Max." She knew Max was only covering his own ass. She would have done the same in his position.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?"

Alice couldn't help a nervous giggle. It had been bound to happen sometime and she just thanked God it hadn't been her. Max was smart enough to dig himself out of that hole.

"Did you find out anything Max?" she asked, trying to bring Mad-Eye's focus back to the story.

"Not really, Alice. Nothing that'll help you."

"Okay. I think I'm on to something here."

House tugged her hand and pointed at the screen. It was a boring database of names, dates of birth, addresses and diagnosis. And right there, where House's finger was pointing was Simon Ferguson. Tuberculosis.

"Listen Mad-Eye," Alice said, thoughtlessly using his nickname, "I will definitely have a story for you by deadline tonight. It might not be the one you were expecting but it will be a fucking good one. You should know by now that I only do good ones. And if you don't shut up and let me get on with my job, it will be accompanied by my resignation letter."

"BEFORE deadline," Mad-Eye yelled. "I want to read it first and Max will need to read it. IF HE'S STILL EMPLOYED HERE, THAT IS."

The phone went dead and Alice closed the phone with a shiver. Did she really need this in her life? Maybe that whole idea of taking some time out to work on her novel wasn't a bad one. After this was sorted out, of course.

"So, he was definitely diagnosed with TB in Florida," Alice said, focussing back on the computer screen on House's desk.

"Yes." House clicked a few more links. "By a Doctor Auburn." He went into another database and called up Doctor Auburn's details, including a phone number. "Do you want to call?" he asked.

Alice was touched that he asked. Perhaps he understood what was compelling her to complete this story, the need she had to solve the puzzle, to right the wrong, outside of what her boss wanted from her.

She gave him a hopeful smile that he didn't return. "No, would you call? He's much more likely to tell you things than me."

Before House could answer, Taub returned with a brown paper bag. He handed it to Alice. She opened it and inside saw four vials of medications.

"Isoniazid, Rifadin, Myambutol and Pyrazinamide," Taub explained. "You'll need to take all four for the next two months. House can give you the instructions on dosages and all that."

"Thanks," Alice said, wondering if House would be around to do that. She guessed if he wasn't she'd have to make an appointment to go see her own doctor and get advice.

"I'm going back to check on our other patient," Taub said testily before turning on his heel and leaving the office.

After Taub walked out, House stared at Alice. Sizing her up, like he was deciding what to do with her, as if she was a particularly nasty bit of trash. Then he looked away, back at his computer.

"Okay, I'll call this doctor," House said reluctantly. "But I can't promise I'm gonna tell you what he tells me. Seems to me that as long as I get Wilson off the hook, it's not really my problem whether I help the Observer sell a few more papers tomorrow."

Alice shrugged. He was right. "I guess that's your decision," she said quietly. She stood up. "Can you tell me where Wilson's office is? I need to talk to him – let him know what's going on, see if I can get some quotes from him."

"You don't have to walk far – it's next door." House gestured with his chin.

"Okay. Well, I'll go talk to him while you try to get hold of Doctor Auburn. I'll meet you back here afterwards."

He gave her a curt nod and Alice wished with all her heart that he'd smile. Give her one of those encouraging smiles that she'd seen – only occasionally – that lit up his face and warmed her heart. She knew it was too much to expect. So she blinked hard, picked up her purse and headed to Wilson's office.