House leant back in his chair and rubbed his thumb against his forehead – an unconscious outward manifestation of mental stress. He sat for a moment, trying to take everything in. He recalled funny little questions Alice had asked – the "friend of hers" who was coughing up blood, particularly. She'd been using him for information, but not in an obvious way. He thought of all the things she could have possibly done to take advantage of having a doctor in her life. She could have stolen his keys and broken into his office and accessed the hospital database. Hell, he'd brought his laptop home a few times – she could have just jumped on that. His password – MadHatter – wouldn't have been hard for her to guess.

With a sigh, he realised she was right. For now, he had to concentrate on finding a way to exonerate Wilson. Then he could work out what all this meant for him and Alice – if there was a him and Alice.

He picked up the phone and called Auburn, relived to find that he was in his office and available to take the call. At first the doctor was excited to hear from him and reminded House of the time they'd met at a nephrology conference in Washington five years ago. Of course, House had absolutely no memory of that at all.

Dr Auburn's enthusiasm had dimmed quite considerably when House mentioned Simon Ferguson.

"I'm treating Simon Ferguson for miliary TB," House explained. "I saw that you listed him on the public records in Florida."

"I listed him with pulmonary TB," Auburn explained. "He never came to any of his follow up appointments so I'm guessing he didn't take his medication and that's how he ended up in Princeton with miliary TB. His immune system would have to have been weakened for that to happen though."

"Yeah, chemo does that," House said drily

"What?"

"You didn't treat Ferguson for anything else?"

"House, I . . . can't say. Let's just say that the lawyers won that round." Auburn asked cautiously. "But if he's being treated there, I'd strongly recommend your hospital attorney talks to my hospital attorney. And tell your attorney to keep Ferguson away from your oncology department."

"Ah-huh." House appreciated the doctor's veiled warning. "Although, it's probably too late given he's about to settle a multi-million-dollar claim with our head of oncology."

Auburn made what House could only describe as an angry, strangled noise down the phone. "Bastard," he said under his breath.

"Right," House said. He had enough info to go on with. "Give me your attorney's details."

Auburn gave House a name and phone number and then said goodbye, wishing House luck.

House sat back again, pulling the pieces together in his mind. This was more than enough information for Wilson's lawyers to rescind the settlement and work on a new agreement with Ferguson. Perhaps one that forced him to go to court and prove his claims, in which case his previous claim in Florida would enter the records. House had a feeling that once that happened, Ferguson's case would collapse.

But was it enough information for Alice to write her story? It still needed to be proven in court. And did House care anyway? As he'd said to her, getting Wilson off the hook was his motivation, he couldn't care less if she wrote her stupid story.

Could he?

House's phone rang while he was sitting there thinking.

"House?" Cuddy's voice was clipped and there was no mistaking her irritation. "It seems I'm having a party in my office. I have Wilson, Thirteen, Kutner, Evelyn the hospital's attorney and a journalist called Alice McKenzie from the Princeton Observer all here. Looks you're the only one missing."

Her voice was dangerously and sarcastically calm.

House couldn't resist a quip. "Be there in five. I'll bring the cupcakes and sody pop!"

--

The clamour of conversation coming from Cuddy's office was loud enough to hear out in the clinic waiting area. House walked in, but it wasn't until Cuddy's shrill voice called out a question to him that everyone quieted down.

"House, you had your fellows admit a patient who is about to make a multi-million-dollar settlement with this hospital!" Her fury was barely contained.

"Yes Cuddy, but you see, he's really sick this time. And we're a hospital. I thought hospitals liked sick people." House struck a mock thoughtful pose as he glanced around the room. Wilson was sitting opposite Cuddy's desk looking stunned and slightly nauseous. The hospital's lawyer – an attractive blonde that House had gone out of his way to avoid – had been arguing with Thirteen and both of them were breathing heavily. In another place, in another time, House would have brought popcorn and sat down to watch that. Kutner was standing off to one side, looking both slightly amused and vaguely upset by the commotion.

Alice was standing opposite Cuddy's desk, in the power position in the room. It was obvious that, until House had walked in, Alice had been holding court. She was in a black suit again – House realised he had never asked her why it was she always wore black – and she looked, well, hot. House had a thing for powerful, in control women, and Alice had it in spades. He was annoyed with himself for thinking that, because he wanted to be angry with her, not daydreaming about how fantastic it would be if he could take her off to a conveniently located supply closet and have his way with her.

"He's really sick this time Cuddy," House continued. "And he actually was really sick last time. Only not as bad. And not with cancer."

"Exactly what I was trying to explain," Alice interrupted. She turned to the lawyer who was still glaring at Thirteen with what House was desperate to call sexual tension. "Evelyn, we have enough for you to force Ferguson to go to court," Alice explained.

Wilson finally perked up from his seat, starting to look a little more relieved and a little less dumb-struck.

"So let me get this straight." Wilson took a deep breath. "Ferguson has TB. He had TB in Florida, but he was wrongly diagnosed with cancer and then sued the doctor. He won the settlement there and decided to have another go at winning another settlement against another doctor. So he came to me and I did exactly the same thing, diagnosed his TB as cancer. And he sued us."

"Exactly," Alice said, giving him a warm smile. "What did the Florida doctor say, Greg?"

House handed Evelyn – he hadn't known that was the blonde lawyer's name until Alice said it earlier – the scrap of paper with the details Auburn had given him. "This is Orlando General Hospital's attorney. Ferguson's doctor there has obviously been gagged by a court order, but he strongly recommends that you guys talk."

Cuddy's whole posture of hostility began to settle down now that it appeared that her precious hospital might be safe again. But House knew there was still one last thing Cuddy would have to sort out. And sure enough, she turned to Alice with a piercing look.

"Ms McKenzie, what will the Observer have to say about all this? I don't want any nasty surprises over my breakfast cereal tomorrow."

Alice smiled and House realised he was probably the only one in the room that could read the dejectedness in her face.

"Nothing, Doctor Cuddy. You don't have to worry. I don't have anything that I could legally publish. It's all hearsay and conjecture until you guys get to court."

"Unless . . . " House said, thinking aloud. "Unless we move this tea party to another table."

"What?" Cuddy and Wilson exclaimed in unison.

"Which room is our friend Mr Ferguson staying in?" House asked Thirteen.

"Four-twenty-five."

"Last one there's a rotten egg!" House grinned and then sped out of the room.

--

Alice took her place in the procession through the hospital heading towards Simon Ferguson's room. House led the parade, as mad as the March Hare and Hatter combined. Alice was too far back to know for sure, but she could have sworn he was singing something.

Evelyn, the hospital's lawyer, and Dr Cuddy, the dean – House's boss, who didn't know that Alice knew quite as much about her as she did – flanked Alice as if she was a dangerous terrorist who couldn't be trusted to walk the hospital corridors on her own. Still, she understood their concern, and in their position, she'd be just as protective. Even though they had nothing to worry about. Alice's career as a journalist with the Observer was over, she realised with a sick sense of dread. Mad-Eye had said if she didn't have the story she wasn't even to come and clean out her desk. She hoped that was an exaggeration and began imagining her farewell party, estimating just how many drinks she could make her colleagues buy her before she passed out. Because losing her job and losing her lover all in one day called for nothing if not seriously excessive alcohol consumption.

Alice couldn't help but gasp as they entered Simon Ferguson's room and she saw him lying in bed. In a hospital gown, against the white hospital bed linen, it was even more evident that the guy was very, very sick. His eyes were closed, but they flew open and he appeared at first startled and then extremely wary as people flooded into his room.

"Ah, Mr Ferguson, welcome back to our humble establishment," House said with sarcastic graciousness. "I trust the service meets your requirements?"

"I never wanted to come back here," Ferguson whispered through the oxygen mask that covered his mouth and nose.

"No, I guess you didn't." House lifted the oxygen mask away and stared threateningly down at him. Alice was glad she'd never seen that particular look on House's face before, it was terrifying. And it was obviously having the desired effect on Ferguson, because he began to squirm nervously.

"Oxygen, I need the oxygen," he said pathetically.

"House, give him back the mask," Cuddy warned.

"It's okay, I'm watching his sats," House said blithely. "I spoke to a Doctor Auburn in Orlando today and guess what? He told me that you had TB."

"So?"

"You remember Doctor Wilson here?" House gestured over to where Wilson was standing. "Nice oncologist who diagnosed you with cancer? Well, he was wrong. He screwed up. Shame. But it happens. And you knew. You knew it could happen."

"I don't know what . . . you can't come in here and say . . . " Ferguson tried to sit up and one of the machines monitoring the patient began to beep a warning. Alice, already sick with nerves, felt the tension ratchet up a notch in the room.

"House," Wilson said in that warning way that he had. The first time Alice had heard him say that, she'd thought that it would be immensely annoying for House to have to put up with his own, walking, talking conscience. But now, watching this, Alice thought that perhaps it was extremely important there was someone around like Wilson to keep an eye on him.

House made no move to replace the oxygen mask. His eyes flickered over the monitors, but whatever he saw wasn't enough to convince him to change his approach.

"Oh, but I can," House said, still threatening. "You knew you had a little gold mine in those scarred lungs of yours. If you could just find a doctor who'd pay out, who'd be a soft touch. And Wilson is the softest touch. God, you have no idea how much money I've borrowed from the man over the years."

"Hey," Wilson protested weakly.

"What are you going to do with the money?" House asked. "I mean, after the settlement in Florida you must have more than enough now. Leave the country? Buy an island? How much did you win in Florida by the way?"

Ferguson was seriously panting for breath. "Stupid bitch," he managed to gasp.

"Who?" House looked around, but Alice knew who he was talking about. And it wasn't anyone in the room.

"Mr Ferguson, you did this yourself." Alice stepped forward and spoke to him. "Your ex-wife just took what she was owed."

"More than half!" he protested. "She took practically all of it! To support the kid. Bet it's not even mine," he wheezed.

"Well, actually—" House began.

"Once you got the money, your wife divorced you and took most of your settlement," Alice interrupted. So you decided to find a new doctor, get the money you felt you were owed, and then perhaps disappear. Or who knows, try again in another state. Only you didn't know that TB was reportable. Or that it was probably going to kill you before you could go try this on another doctor."

Ferguson's face was red and Alice wasn't sure if it was anger, fever, or the effort of breathing. She figured it was all three.

"So what? Doctors are rich! They can afford it. Yeah, so I knew I didn't have cancer. Took me four different doctors till this one called it." He gestured to Wilson. "He was too nice. I knew he was the one from the minute I coughed on him."

"Lucky for you, idiot, this time you might just get out of things with your life. And probably a hefty attorney's bill." House turned to Wilson with a cheerful and curious look. "What do they charge an hour again Wilson? Is it more or less than an oncologist?"

Wilson let out a little laugh in response.

"House, for God's sake put the O2 mask back on the guy," Cuddy ordered.

House did what he was told. He turned to Alice. "Did you get what you needed?"

Alice held up the little hand-held digital recorder she always had in her purse. "Perfect," she said with a sad smile, knowing how much it had cost her. She turned to Cuddy and the hospital lawyer. "Dr Cuddy, now that we have Mr Ferguson's confession, do you think the hospital would go on the record? Can I have a few comments from you?"

Cuddy turned to Evelyn and Evelyn pursed her lips. Then nodded. "As long as I can be there."

"Sure," Alice agreed, relieved. "Shall we go back down to your office?"

Everyone slowly filed out of the room. Alice was just heading down the corridor, following Cuddy and Evelyn when House called out.

"Alice, can I talk to you?" It wasn't a question.

Alice smiled at Cuddy. "I'll be down in your office in a moment." Cuddy nodded.

Eventually everyone had disappeared and Alice was left standing, staring at House.

"Come with me," he said. He turned on his heel and headed down a corridor, past the elevators and into an office and storage area. He tried a few doors, letting out an annoyed hiss as each one proved to be locked. Finally a door opened and he grabbed Alice's hand, pulling her inside and slamming the door behind them.

Alice barely had time to absorb the fact that she was in a dimly lit janitor's closet before House's lips crashed onto hers. It was the last thing she expected, but her well-trained body responded instantly, curving into his, wrapping her arms around his waist, her lips parting under his insistent kiss. Their tongues slid against each other, and Alice was torn between the need to breathe and her need for the kiss to never end.

Finally, both breathing almost as raggedly as Simon Ferguson had been, they split apart. Alice put a hand against the wall to support herself, confused, uncertain and desperately aroused. She had figured things were over between them. But then, what was this about?

They stared at each other, naked desire burning on his face that Alice knew was reflected in her own. But then she watched in anguished grief as House's expression slowly closed over, his eyes shutting down, shutting off that special part of him that only she'd been allowed to see – the sensitive, vulnerable, sweet and caring man that was carefully concealed under a thick, protective layer of sarcasm and indifference.

"I just wanted you to know what you'll be missing," House said, his tone cold and cruel. "I'll have my stuff out of your place before you're home tonight."

With that, he opened the door and walked out, leaving Alice standing there, mouth swollen, knees weak, heart shattered.