A/N. So… I got a new laptop yesterday! That's irrelevant to the story, but I'm quite happy.
I have a massive problem with this story. I have absolutely no idea where to go with it. I mean, I have ideas, but I don't like any of them. I'd love to hear what you guys think of the story. I'd also love to hear any ideas you wonderful people have regarding this story. Read and Review, please. Truly yours, Sherlocked Gallifreyan.
Wilson sighed and shook his head. House had always been difficult, but now? Now, the man was nearly impossible. Wilson didn't know if it was the pain or the drug habit that was getting worse. Maybe it was both. Either way, it wasn't healthy.
He was working up the courage to talk to Cuddy about House when she barged into his office, looking torn between rage, disgust, and pity. Wilson swore he saw fear and something else he couldn't identify.
"Where's House?" she demanded.
"Why does everyone think I always know where he is?" Wilson snapped.
"You're probably the only friend he has," she retorted. "He talks to you." She paused to collect herself before continuing: "He hasn't answered his phone. I know, I know." She cut off Wilson's protest. "House doesn't always answer his phone. But he doesn't let it go this long, and I don't think he's at his apartment…"
"Waitwaitwait!" Wilson said, gesturing for her to calm down. "Why are you suddenly so worried about him?" Cuddy sat heavily in the chair across from Wilson, debating how much she could tell Wilson. Because if she told Wilson, Wilson would probably tell House.
"Well?" Wilson prompted.
"I'm debating whether or not I should lie to you!" she snapped. She passed a hand over her face.
Wilson sat back in his chair, only slightly stunned. "You like him, don't you," he said flatly.
"Is it that obvious?" she asked, looking out the window, at the floor, at her fingernails. Looking everywhere but at Wilson.
"Well… If anyone else tried to get away with even half the things House does, you would have fired them," he said, trying to choose his words carefully. "But… you indulge him. And…" Here he stopped, not sure if finishing that thought was a good idea.
"And what?" Cuddy asked emptily.
"And… I think… I think you encourage him to act out," Wilson said, softly and hurriedly. He waited for her wrath, but it never came. Instead, she stood up and walked quietly out of Wilson's office.
Cameron smiled at her young patient and his mother. Addressing the mother, she said, "Your son will be fine. He has a cold." The mother relaxed visibly, with a quiet, "Oh, thank God!" As the pair left and Cameron began tidying the room, Cuddy entered. She looked worried. Almost scared.
"What's wrong?" Cameron asked, trying to keep the concern out of her voice.
"You haven't seen House, have you?" Cuddy asked.
"Not since yesterday," Cameron said. "Why?"
"Forget it," Cuddy said before Cameron pressed for more information. Hurrying to her office, she locked the door behind her. She dialed House's number, trying not to panic. Her heart sank as she got the dial tone again. She hung up and tried his cell. She wiped a tear off her cheek and left a message after the tone. "Greg," she begged. "Please answer the phone… Greg? Come on, House! Unless you're dead, get off your ass and answer the dead phone!" She waited for about a minute before pleading in a shaky voice, "Greg, please answer. I know you don't usually care to answer the phone, but you're really starting to scare me… Please?" She waited and waited and waited. Nothing. Finally, she ended the call and dropped the phone on her desk. She rested her chin on her palm and stared at the carpet. Maybe he was just being House and ignoring her. Maybe he was skipping work. There were a thousand plausible reasons for House to be AWOL.
Cuddy stood and paced the width of her office, thoughts jumbled and painful.
A/N. Should I continue it? Any ideas? I'd love to hear from you.