Author's Note (Part One): Thanks for reading, reviewing and adding the story to your lists. It makes me all warm and fuzzy inside! Hope you like it!

Chapter 3

"She in?" House asked Cuddy' assistant.

"Yes, but she's busy--" House never heard the end of what-her-name's response, all he needed to know was that Cuddy was in. He had no intention of waiting to be seen. He opened the door to her office and stepped inside quietly. She was engrossed in patient files, the wrinkle between her eyes making an appearance (as it always did when she was concentrating).

"I know what you did," House said in mock-admonishment. "Looks like you'll need to be punished."

House took a seat in one of the chairs in front of her desk. He took notice that for a brief moment, Cuddy looked like had been caught doing something she shouldn't be-- like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. The expression only lasted for a second before the familiar playful smile crossed her face.

"Me? If anyone needs a spanking it's you. How does someone only see one patient while working in the clinic for three hours?"

A grin slid across House's face, "With great skill and determination."

"You're going to have to actually start doing your clinic hours. I can't have the other doctors think I'm playing favorites."

"Are you saying I'm not your favorite?" House asked as he leaned back in his chair. He liked the idea of everyone thinking he was Cuddy's favorite, everyone knowing that he could get away with murder.

"I'm saying that you need to work during your clinic hours."

Nice. She didn't answer the question which, of course, meant that he was her favorite. He was her favorite, not Wilson. He wanted to believe it because it meant that someone chose him. She chose him. He pushed the warm feeling it gave him to the back of his brain and convinced himself that particular feeling had no use, no purpose. It would only confuse things. And right now he needed things to be simple, he needed a friend, not a-- whatever. He focused his attention back to the present and his nagging curiosity.

"Wilson was in here a long time," he tried to make the statement casual, but he could tell from the look of understanding she gave him that he had done a horrible job. "What'd you two talk about?"

"Nothing much. I talked and he just kind of sat there."

House studied her for a moment. The afternoon sun coming in through blinds made her dark hair glow a soft mahogany. She was beautiful. Just like yesterday. Just like this morning. He let his eyes travel from her face down to the low v-neck of her top and linger momentarily on her breasts before shaking the inconvenient thoughts from his head. He turned his gaze to meet hers. It was sad, worried. Pitying. He couldn't help feel that she pitied him. Hating the look she gave him, he broke the eye contact and glanced around the room.

"You should talk to him," she said softly, trying to make him feel better. "It could go better this time. Maybe he's ready to talk--"

"Is he talking to you?" his tone was unnecessarily harsh, but she seemed to understand.

"He doesn't want to talk to me. He misses you. I can tell. He just needs to remember why the two of you were-- are friends," she hadn't meant to use the past tense. She hoped that House hadn't noticed.

But he had. If Cuddy was using the past tense then Wilson wasn't ready to talk. He needed to change the subject before things got to serious. He didn't want to take out his frustrations on Cuddy and he was tired of her worrying about him. He reminded himself that he needed to keep things simple.

"You going somewhere?" House asked, finally noticing the suitcase sitting in the corner by her desk.

"Huh? Oh no. It... belongs to a potential donor," she lied, hoping he couldn't tell how thrown she was by the question.

House narrowed his eyes; she was lying for some reason. "Where is this donor?"

"Went to tour the hospital," she said as he continued to eye her skeptically. "Didn't want an escort," she added, anticipating his next question.

"You really should give it another shot with Wilson." She knew James was the only thing that would throw him off the scent.

"I should be going," he said, standing up. He had no desire to revisit the subject of his friendship, or rather, former friendship, with Wilson. "My patient needs me."

"Your patient was discharged an hour ago." She hadn't meant to scare him away, she just wanted to stop him from further inquiring about the suitcase.

"Got paperwork to do," he opened the door with his cane-free hand. "Or rather paperwork to make Foreman do." The door shut behind him and when he was out-of-sight, let out a sigh of relief. He was suspicious, but hadn't figured anything out. Yet.

Juliana stopped in front of James' office door. The blinds were drawn, the lights were off. She took a step closer and listened intently, not breathing until she heard the slight rustle of papers from within. He was hiding like he did when she was a child, holed up in his room, in the dark, brooding. She rapped on the door. He didn't answer; she hadn't expected him to. She gave him a few minutes and knocked again. Still quiet. She knew he was sitting in there waiting for her to leave him alone. Remembering there was an alternate entrance to his office, she decided that she was going to have to surprise him. On a mission, she turned and began to briskly walk past the elevators, accidentally bumping into two people as she went, and down a hallway to her right. He couldn't hide from her. She wouldn't let him.

House rode the elevator up to the Oncology floor. He knew that Wilson wouldn't want to talk to him or see him, but on the off chance Cuddy was right... He decided he would knock and when no one answered, he'd go back down to his office and find something to do.

The doors to the elevator opened, House stepped out and turned towards Wilson's door just in time to see a young brunette standing outside it. He could only see the back of her head, but she seemed familiar. How did he know her? Then girl turned him and started to walk toward him. Unfortunately, the doors to the other elevator opened and Brown stepped out, blocking his line of sight. House stepped to the left to get a better view only to collide with Brown, who had been bowled over by the girl.

"Sorry!" she yelled, not stopping. Before House could collect himself and get a good look, she turned left and disappeared down the hall.

"Thanks a lot, Brown," House said irritably.

"It wasn't my fault. That girl ran right into me. Didn't even stop! Of all the--"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... she sucks. You don't recognize her do you?"

"No. Do you?"

"Not sure," House mumbled as he turned left and set off down the hall after her. He made his way completely down the corridor, unsuccessful in his manhunt. When he reached the end of the hall, he decided to surrender for the moment. Thanks to his run-in with Brown, his leg was throbbing. The bottle of Vicodin in his pocket was empty, so he would need to find Chase for a refill. As he shuffled down the hallway, he glanced into an office whose blinds were open and saw the girl outside in the shared courtyard. Wasting no time, he flung the door open and limped to the opposite window.

"Excuse me!" The doctor sitting at his desk yelled, outraged.

"No really, you're fine. I don't mind at all," House replied as he watched the brunette climb over the brick walls that separated each office patio. Then, all of the sudden it hit him. It had to be her, she's the only other person who would invade Wilson's space without a second thought.

House left the office and ignored the occupying doctor who continued to complain about invasion of privacy and human decency. How did she know to come? Who told her? There was only one explanation. Cuddy. House angrily propelled himself toward the elevators. As he jabbed the button he wasn't sure what pissed him off more-- that she was here or that Cuddy called her.

Author's Note (Part Two): Next time, confrontation-- which is always fun!