A/N: Thanks so much everyone for your warm response to House and Alice. This is the last chapter of the story, although I have a short epilogue that I'll post in the next day or two. Hope you've enjoyed the ride as much as I have!

--

The next morning

House was sitting in his office, facing away from the door, staring out the window. He was wondering if he was coming down with a virus: he was lethargic, achy, tired and finding it hard to concentrate. Right in the middle of working out what medication he might take, his office door was opened noisily.

House didn't turn around. He wasn't interested in visitors.

"House?"

Damn. Wilson wouldn't be easy to get rid of, House knew. If only it could have been one of his team then he could have yelled at them. Or Cuddy – then he could have started a fight.

"House." Wilson's voice was getting more impatient, but House still couldn't be bothered to turn around to face him.

"Wilson? I'm getting the flu. Could you get me—"

"House, you're not getting the flu. Have you read today's paper?"

"No. Yesterday's news somehow took away my enthusiasm for current affairs."

"Well, I think you'll want to see this."

House knew Wilson was baiting him, and sure enough, he was curious. But the effort of putting his feet on the floor and spinning around in his chair felt like more energy than he had to spare.

When House didn't move, he heard Wilson sigh.

"I'm going to leave the paper on your desk. You need to read it."

Now House was really curious. If it was more Simon Ferguson news, Wilson would still be talking, gabbing on and on – not placing a newspaper on his desk and walking out.

He waited long enough for Wilson to get back to his office and then, to be doubly sure he wasn't lurking around trying to see what House would do, he rolled his chair across to a vantage point where the reflection in the window would tell him if anyone was hanging around in the corridor. Once he was satisfied that the whole area outside his office was empty, he turned around and pulled his chair into the desk.

The first thing that struck him was the photo staring up at him. The blandly familiar masthead of the Princeton Observer had become suddenly sinister.

Shit! Why was he on the front page?

The initial shock was not diminished when he realised he recognised the photo's setting. It must have been taken at the dinner party he'd attended with Alice. He was standing, looking at the camera while Alice was side-on, facing him, laughing. His left arm was wrapped loosely around her, his hand visibly resting on her waist. House always hated photographs of himself, but this one? Even given his dread about what it meant, he couldn't help noticing that it was good – he looked relaxed, happy, almost . . . handsome. Perhaps he could even see a little of what Alice might have seen in him at one time.

The next thing his eyes settled on was the bold, black headline above the photo.

More malpractice uncovered: Doctor misses serious heart condition

House couldn't help but suck in a breath as a sharp, cold fear clenched in his gut. His first reaction was to take the headline literally. Was Alice sick? Or worse? Had she been ill and he'd missed it?

His eyes began frantically scanning the article and he quickly realised he'd been sucked in by a clever fake. He flicked the page over, sure enough, it was blank on the reverse. A fake front and back page had been wrapped around the inside pages of the real version of the day's newspaper. Someone who had the resources to do so had mocked up a very convincing forgery. The sheer cleverness of it immediately ruled out Wilson. Which left . . .

He made a disgusted noise and began to crumple up the newspaper, intending to throw it in the trash.

But he paused, hand over the metal bin. Curiosity got the better of him, and he spread the paper out again, reading through the article under the headline properly.

Princeton Plainsboro diagnostician Dr Gregory House is the latest New Jersey doctor to be accused of malpractice. Investigations by this newspaper have uncovered a serious incident which places Dr House at the centre of causing a critical disorder known as "cardiac fracture".

Alice McKenzie, an Observer feature reporter, has been seeing the world-renowned doctor for several weeks, undergoing a radical form of treatment for a serious heart condition believed to be caused by neglect and abuse.

Ms McKenzie reported that her wellbeing had been steadily improving following a regime of kindness, affection and regular, vigorous protein injections.

House had to smirk at that, despite his intention to remain unaffected.

In the past, Dr House was himself a victim of cardiac fracture, and Ms McKenzie had hoped that working through her illness may have assisted Dr House in his own recovery.

Just this week, Dr House and Ms McKenzie were involved in revealing conman Simon Ferguson's attempt to discredit Dr James Wilson. Ms McKenzie says the fall-out from the case has had a serious impact on her treatment.

"I have been told Dr House never misses a diagnosis," Ms McKenzie says. "However in my case he did not predict that his treatment would become dangerously addictive. Once treatment was withdrawn, he failed to see exactly how serious my heart condition had become."

Despite his failure to identify her issues, Ms McKenzie says she believes continuing Dr House's treatment is her only option.

"Dr House and myself have an intense need to solve problems and understand people," Ms McKenzie explains. "Unfortunately in this instance, I believe my desire to investigate a situation and to prove my journalistic abilities may have seriously affected Greg House's trust in me. I am sincerely sorry about that.

"He has every right to be cautious, but I believe in the interests of both our hearts' continuing recovery, our joint treatment should be recommenced."

The paper was unable to gain a statement from the hospital.

Ms McKenzie has decided to take a break from journalism to work on her novel. She is still hoping that her cardiac fracture is repairable. For more information on Ms McKenzie's next public appearance, please turn to the back page.

House wasn't quite sure how to feel. It was kind of pathetic, something a teenager might attempt. Cardiac fracture? Puh-lease. But he turned to the back page anyway. It took a while before he noticed anything out of place, but then he found it: a small display ad on the back page, wedged between the sports stories.

"Alice McKenzie will be signing copies of Lewis Carroll's book, Alice in Wonderland, in the foyer of Princeton Plainsboro Hospital from 9am-5pm every day this week. She will continue to sign other authors' books until her own is finished. Grab your autographed copy and go into the running to win a trip for two to Egypt."

House looked at his watch. It was just after ten am.

Alice was seriously going to sit in the hospital's foyer for eight hours every day this week until he decided to speak to her? He begrudgingly admired her persistence, but made no move to leave his office. He folded the paper and put it away in a drawer.

Through a combination of surfing the internet, assigning pointless busywork to his team, and forcing himself to read the entire way through the latest nephrology journal, House managed to make the next few hours disappear.

Cuddy interrupted his time-wasting mid-afternoon.

"House, did you know that journalist from the Observer has been sitting in my foyer since nine this morning?"

"Really?" House asked innocently.

"She said she's waiting to see you."

"She didn't make an appointment."

He didn't miss the frustration in Cuddy's sigh. "House, just take care of this. I don't want to have to call security to have her moved."

She hung up.

House sat back in his chair and spun around in slow circles for while. He had been tempted to find out if Alice would come back again tomorrow if he ignored her all day, but he knew now that Cuddy was involved it would just get messier if he let it go on that long. And while House had no objections to causing Cuddy, or the hospital, some inconvenience, he didn't particularly want to do it at the cost of his private life becoming public entertainment.

He took a deep breath and then slowly made his way out of his office. Striding down the corridor, he hit the call button for the elevator and was surprised by the feeling that suddenly hit him.

He was nervous.

He hadn't managed to get to Alice's the day before to move his things. And last night, sitting in his apartment, he'd felt strangely uncomfortable, as if he didn't fit properly there anymore. He was still angry with her, he told himself. It was a matter of principle.

But he guessed it wouldn't hurt to see what she had to say for herself.

When the elevator doors opened on the foyer, it took him only a moment to find her, sitting off to the right on those God-awful plastic chairs, looking sad and forlorn. He was glad she was upset, because she deserved it. Completely betraying his trust was not a small thing. Why then did he have to fight an almost overwhelming urge to gather her into a hug and tell her everything would be okay?

Not that he was going to do that.

He assembled what he knew was his perfectly dispassionate face, and walked right up to her and tapped her foot with his cane. She jumped up instantly, looking nervous, avoiding his eyes. He could tell she'd been crying. A lot, if the bags under her eyes were anything to go by.

"I read the paper," he said.

"Did you like it?" She looked down, her toe rubbing at the floor.

"Hmph."

"I had to reach back into my teenage-writer's soul to come up with that."

"That's what it read like. I hope your novel's going to be better."

"So do I." She stood straighter, still not quite meeting his eyes.

They were both silent for a while and House was reminded of when he'd brought her the un-birthday cake. He'd made a move and she'd checked him, both of them too stubborn to admit the desire that was inflaming them both. Back then, he'd had to swallow an entire meal and make stupid small talk when all he wanted was to bury himself deep and hard inside her – pretty much as soon as she'd opened the door.

This time, the price of stubbornness was much higher. It was more than just extending the time before they'd be wrapped up in each other. It was gambling whether it would ever happen again.

She'd apologised. Admitted fault. Come to some realisation that had even caused her to quit her job. For someone who was just as stubborn as he was, it was a big step. Could he take the final step to meet her? Swallow his pride this time, and accept her apology?

"You'd better take your book," she said, breaking the silence. She handed him a beautifully illustrated, hard-cover version of Alice in Wonderland.

House didn't take it. "I already have a copy."

"It doesn't matter." She gave him a lopsided smile. "You won the daily prize." She held it out further, encouraging him to take it. "Go on. Read the inscription."

She looked so nervous and vulnerable, House could practically feel the cracks forming in his carefully assembled facade as he fought the urge to comfort her. Frowning, he leant his cane against the nearby chairs and took the book. He opened it to the inside cover.

Greg – hoping you might join me in exploring Wonderland. Let's start with Cairo and go from there? A x

House took a deep breath, knowing, in that instant what he was going to do. He flicked to the final pages of the book, a half-smile crossing his face as he saw a picture of Alice opening her eyes and finding her sister still sitting under the tree. He tilted the book so she could see the illustration he was looking at. "I don't suppose I'm going to wake up and find out this was all a dream?" he asked.

"Is that what you want?"

House stifled a yawn as a way to look away from her when he spoke. "I could really use a nap. I can't sleep properly in my bed anymore."

"Right." Alice took in a deep breath. "Well, we could go take a nap at my place and see what happens when you wake up," she said, deliberately nonchalant.

Finally, he met her eyes and saw the hope there. Knew he had the power to crush her. How easy and immediately satisfying it would be to see her hurt the way she'd hurt him.

It was a momentary thought.

He smiled and she smiled back, tears welling in her eyes. God, the woman could cry. He didn't want that, not in the foyer. He could feel at least two pairs of familiar eyes drilling into his back, waiting to see what would happen.

"I'd rather see what kind of dream I can have before we go to sleep," he said, leering.

Alice rolled her eyes, shaking her head, covering her emotion in fake disapproval. "Okay. Do you want to go pack up? I can wait here."

"No, let's just go now. I can get my stuff tomorrow."

--

Alice woke up a couple of hours later, just as the sun was beginning to set.

She looked over at the man dozing next to her and was suddenly possessed with the need to say the words that still hadn't been said. She shook him gently, trying to wake him.

"Greg?"

"What?" he answered sleepily.

"I love you."

"You woke me up to tell me that?"

"Yes."

"Good. I love you too. Now can we go back to sleep for a while? I was having a really good dream."

"Sure." Alice snuggled into his warm body.

They lay silent for a while, before House made a grumbling noise and stretched.

"I can't go back to sleep," he complained.

"Neither can I," Alice admitted. "I was lying here thinking about what I'm going to do with my life now that I don't have to put up with Mad-Eye's bullshit."

"What are you going to write?"

"I'm not sure. I was doing some work a few weeks ago looking into farmers. I think there's a good story to tell somewhere there."

"Or maybe you could write a children's book like Alice."

"You think?"

"You've certainly had enough adventures to pull one together."

"Maybe," Alice mused. "Alice's Adventures in . . . Hmm. Maybe just Alice's Adventures."

"A daring tale of a superhero-girl-journalist and her sidekick dog, Buster," he suggested.

"Buster?"

"Just thinking creatively." He shrugged.

"This story. Does it have a happy ending, do you think?"

He squeezed his arms around her. "Yeah, I think it just might."

The End