AN: Yeah. I know. I suck. I really, really suck. It's been three weeks without an update. I'm sorry, it was just that real life went and got in the way – between the exams and the "arg arg arg"-ing that results from exams I didn't have time to update. I did write a short little crack!ficlet, if you want to read it – I named it "Purple Dolphins and Kisses". Shush. I know that I have problems.

Anyway, at least chapter ten is here now, right? Because I'm stressed and have had exams, it's back to Non Angst Land again. Please stop with the booing and hissing. I know I suck; I already made that point several times. But this is vital to the plot. Yes, there is a plot. Now shut up, and read slowly, for Heaven's sake. If you're really good, and maybe drop me a review, I might write you Chapter Eleven by tonight.

Enough from me. I still don't own House, MD. I also don't own the Sheraton Kauai resort, but it looks awesome, so you should definitely head over there at some point. I don't know whether one of the receptionists is actually called Lea, but for the purposes of this story, one is. This chapter is rated a happy little PG-13.

Chapter Ten

"Dr. Wilson, I think you're worrying unnecessarily," Cuddy said, sitting down at her desk. Wilson took a seat opposite her.

"House wouldn't do this," he argued.

"Because he's never not kept in contact before? House doesn't do keeping people informed. His phone's battery is probably flat, or something. Don't worry. It's not like there's anything you can do about it anyway."

"Cuddy, I have a bad feeling. About all of this. I don't know why, but when I put it together with the fact that House hasn't called when he promised he would and the fact that I can't reach him... Something's wrong. I can feel it."

Cuddy sighed. She pushed her chair back slightly, and opened the top drawer of desk. After searching for a few seconds, she pulled out a small piece of paper with a phone number scribbled on it. She held it out to Wilson. "Here. That's the number of the hotel that House is staying at. Call them. Speak to him. Then go back to work, and stop worrying! You'll make yourself ill one of these days."

"Thanks, Cuddy." Wilson didn't voice the fact that House had already taken ten years off of his life. Probably more. "Can I use your phone?"

"Of course."

Wilson tapped the number that Cuddy had given him into the keypad and put the receiver to his ear. The phone rang twice, before Wilson was greeted by a stiff female voice.

"I'm sorry, but the line is busy. Please call back later."

Wilson sighed as he put the phone down.

"Any joy?" Cuddy asked him. Seeing the annoyed look on his face, she gave a small smile. "Sorry. Stupid question."

"The line was engaged."

"Well, it's a big resort. Try again."

"What, now?"

Cuddy nodded in response. Wilson picked up the phone and redialled. This time, the receptionist picked up on the second ring.

"Hello, this is the Sheraton Kauai resort. My name is Lea, how can I help you?" Lea sounded cheerful – much too cheerful for Wilson's liking at that particular time. Still, better than a surly receptionist who would be disinclined to help him.

"Hi. My name's James Wilson. I'm trying to contact one of your guests – a Dr. Gregory House. Do you think you could put me through to him?"

"Could you wait for a moment please, Mr. Wilson?" There was a pause. Wilson could just about hear the sound of the keys of a computer being tapped.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Wilson." The receptionist's voice was tinged with regret that Wilson was certain was being faked. "Dr. House never arrived here at the resort. He was supposed to arrive three days ago, am I right?"
Wilson was stunned. House had never arrived at the resort? What the hell had happened? Hundreds of possibilities began to flit through his mind. House was stuck somewhere, House had been locked up, House was hurt, House was in a hospital, House was dead. He shook his head to clear it of the unpleasant mental images that came flooding in at that thought.

"Mr. Wilson?" Damn, the receptionist was still on the phone. He'd forgotten about her.

"Uh, yes, yes he was. Um, are you sure?"
"I can double check for you if you like?"

"Yes, please." But Wilson was fairly certain that the second search wasn't going to yield any more information than the first.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Wilson, but I am sure that Dr. House isn't at our resort. His flight arrived, and some other people on his flight have arrived as well." The receptionist sounded one part perplexed, two parts apologetic. "I assure you that I will look into what has happened. I'm sure that there is nothing to worry about."
"Thanks for your help." Shell-shocked and more worried than he had been before the call, Wilson put the phone down.

"Well?" Cuddy prompted, standing up and walking over to stand near Wilson. Shit. Wilson had forgotten that she was there.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. "House isn't there. He never arrived at the hotel. His flight did, but either he wasn't on it or something else happened in between the airport and the resort. Cuddy, this isn't good. I told you that something was wrong. My God, anything could have happened! He could be hurt, he could be-"

"Wilson!" Cuddy cut in. "Calm down. This is just House's way. It's just the kind of thing he would do – deliberately go to a different hotel, just to make us worry."

"Well, if that's House's plan, he's succeeded. We need to call the police."

"That's a huge overreaction. House is messing with us, trying to pay us back for forcing him into rehab against his will."

Wilson hissed out a breath of repressed anger. "Cuddy, you're not listening-"

"Just keep trying to contact House, okay? If he still hasn't returned your calls in two days time, then we can think again about calling the police." Cuddy ran a hand through her hair. "House is a grown man. The police aren't going to do anything about a missing adult unless we can provide proof that he's likely to be harmed."

Wilson gave an angry bark of laughter. "So that's your plan – pretend that everything is okay, even when it obviously isn't?"

"We don't know!" Cuddy shot back, her voice beginning to rise in both in pitch and volume. "That's exactly the problem, Wilson – we have no idea what's going on! There are about a thousand different explanations for why House isn't at the hotel, and most of them involve him screwing with us. I understand that he's your friend, and that you-"

"For God's sake, Cuddy!" Wilson was shouting, and the calmer part of his mind told him that he should just calm down and make his point rationally, but he was too angry at Cuddy's seeming indifference to House's situation. "You know, I forgave you for going against House's express wishes seven years ago. You did what you thought was right, even if it was the opposite of what House wanted. But if anything, anything happens to House, I will never forgive you for not doing anything to help."
Cuddy blanched. The comment about the infarction had hit a nerve, which was exactly what Wilson had intended for it do to. "At least I was there seven years ago," Cuddy said, quietly and with more than a trace of venom in her voice. "Where were you?"

Wilson felt his stomach clench. He wanted to shout at Cuddy, even attack her. But what would that solve? It wouldn't help House. He could be suspended, lose his job, go to jail, all because he had allowed a colleague to make him angry. He didn't even dislike Cuddy, usually. The two of them normally got on fairly well. It was just… House… House made everything more complicated, even when he wasn't there.

"Fine," Wilson spat, voice even quieter than Cuddy's had been. "Fine. Do whatever the hell you want. I'm going to report House as missing. I hope you sleep well tonight." He turned on his heel and stormed out of Cuddy's office, slamming through the double doors and into the clinic.

He didn't see Cuddy sit back down. He didn't see the tear rolling silently down her cheek.