Time to Strike

Six months kept chanting away in Wilson's head. He stood entirely still trying to exude calm as he waited for the elevator to open to his floor.

"Do I really have to see this?" Cuddy asked in sharp tone.

"I may have undercut you for the loft, but I thought we were passed that now. Don't you think it's time that you saw our new place?" Wilson insisted laying in the guilt as he held the elevator door open for Cuddy. She walked out slightly narrowing her eyes at him. He held his breath thinking that she figured him out. Instead, she signed and headed towards the loft door. Wilson keyed the door open and allowed her to enter ahead of him.

Cuddy gave an appraising eye over from the entrance of the loft assessing the décor. At last, she chimed in, "I see you went with the decorator. She did a great job. The place has a real masculine feel to it."

"I just told her what colors I liked. Everything else is her," Wilson explained as Cuddy wondered around the wide expanse of the loft.

She stopped by the kitchen. Running her hand over the marble counter, she walked around into the vestibule of the kitchen. Her expression was dazed over. Cuddy relayed, "This is what I loved about this place. Everything is so open and vast. There aren't any boundaries between the rooms, no walls."

Wilson took a moment to regard her brief revelation before suggesting that they complete the tour. He took her towards the hall that broke off into two directions. He pointed to one end, "My room is at that end, but let's see House's room first."

For a second, Cuddy hesitated staring at the end that Wilson deemed as House's. After scrutinizing the hallway, she turned to Wilson and nodded for him to lead the way. He pulled House's bedroom door open allowing Cuddy to enter first. She took in the room quietly. Softly, she said, "This doesn't look like him."

"What do you mean?" Wilson searched the room missing what she saw.

"Where are the guitars, the books, the journals, and the organized disarray? Where's the House?" she asked spinning in a slow circle.

"He's not the same House," he answered honestly wondering exactly where vital pieces of his friend went.

"I miss him sometimes, Wilson," Cuddy hugged herself as she stepped out of his room.

"He's trying to be better," he came to his best friend's defense.

"I know. That's not what I meant Wilson. It's just . . . there are brief glimpses of the House I know, but it feels like a large part of him is hiding or gone," she tried to describe their encounters for the past few months, "I think that I'm starting to miss the jokes about my breasts."

"If you would tell him about Lucas, things would be different," Wilson tried to meddle again.

"It's not that simple," she began to deflect right way.

"I know," he rescinded. With a smile, he pointed to the door next to House's bedroom, "This is his bathroom. We remodeled the inside. I think you'll like it."

Wilson opened the door for Cuddy. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw House bobbing his head to the music playing on his iPod. Her eyes quickly flashed from his head down his body, which resided in the tub. About to turn and confront Wilson, her body skidded forward after Wilson shoved her into the room. The door slammed behind her with frantic noises of something being shoved under the door knob. Latching on to the knob, she tried to force the door open without success. She was in lock down with House.

A/N: Sorry for the horribly long delay on this one. I know it's been forever since I posted anything new. What's worst! I leave you with a cliffhanger. Just to clarify a couple points. This takes place six months from the last chapter. Things are weird and unsettled between House and Cuddy. Wilson tried to confront Cuddy, but little came out of it. So, I wondered what Wilson would do if he just got sick of them avoiding each other. My answer is simple. Lock them in a room together somewhere until they talk it out. Take a wild guess where this is going . . .

P.S. Don't forget Lucas and Cuddy weren't together in Boston in my story.