AN: So I promised you a chapter. The (half) chapter in question is angst-free (well, free of House torture angst, anyway) and probably not great quality. In my defence I had an annoying PT session today. My physio is, shall we say, not exactly all there, which doesn't make it so fun when she's randomly pulling my limbs in different directions. And she makes me do PT at home three times a day. Bitch.

Repressed cripple anger aside, I apologise for the poor quality of this chapter. The purpose of it is to try to resolve the issues between Cuddy and Wilson. Please read it slowly, and I'll be sure to have you another torture-based chapter by Wednesday.

Chapter 10.5

Cuddy blinked furiously, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. Why was she crying? Why had she allowed herself to be riled by Wilson's comments? And why did she feel so guilty about what she had said to him in return?

Deep down, she knew exactly what it was that was making her so emotional. She was worried. She could say what she liked to Wilson, but when it came down to it, she was just as worried about House as he was. The fact that he hadn't arrived at the hotel just didn't make sense. Swapping hotels just wasn't the kind of thing House would do; there was no point to it. There was no advantage that he could gain from going to a different resort, especially since Cuddy had hand-picked the resort and paid for it herself. Why would House not take advantage of that?

Something must have happened. The possibilities were endless, and none of them good. Part of her agreed with Wilson completely – they should call the police, get them to track House down. But then again, what if House was fine, and they really were just worrying about nothing? And, more importantly, what if she was wrong, and something bad had happened?
What if House was dead?

She shuddered at the thought. It was no use thinking like that. She knew that the plane hadn't crashed. There was a possibility that he had been involved in an accident en route to the resort, but apart from that, nothing seemed likely.

She should go to Wilson. She should make peace with him, apologise for what she had said and then graciously accept the apology that she knew he would offer in return. She should buy him a coffee, and the two of them should start to discuss what they should do next.

But to do that would be to admit that something had gone wrong. To apologise to Wilson would mean that she could no longer hide behind the possibility that everything was fine. She couldn't face that. She knew that it was pathetic, but it was just so much easier to keep on believing that she was right, Wilson was wrong, House was fine.

House was fine.

Wilson sat down in his office with a sigh. He had made the call, let the police know what was going on, and they had said exactly what Cuddy had predicted – House was a grown man, he was probably in no danger, but they would call the police in the local area and have them look into it. Still, it was better than nothing. At least now he felt like he was doing something to help his friend.

Among the worry, he felt shame and guilt begin to creep in. He had lost it in front of Cuddy. He had shouted, and he had made unfair accusations, and he couldn't stop thinking about how close he had come to hitting her. What he had done, what he had said, had been completely wrong and completely inappropriate. But... she had just made him so angry, the way she refused to take him seriously, the way she treated him like he was a child. Even though in the end, she had been right, and the police hadn't taken him seriously either.

Cuddy still didn't know – about them. House and Wilson hadn't yet told her about how their relationship had developed since they had repaired their friendship. As far as she knew, they were just that – friends, exactly the way they had always been. Well, to an extent they were. There was still the same deep friendship, the same deep respect, the same love that there had always been.

Only now, there was sex. Lots of sex.

Wilson let out another shaky sigh. Where the hell was House? The man may not do all that much around the hospital, but without him the place fell apart. If the two of them hadn't been so riled up about House's disappearance, things between Wilson and Cuddy would never have escalated so rapidly.

Cuddy's comment had hit deep. He had never blamed Stacy, the loving, caring girlfriend who had only ever done what she thought was best. He hadn't even blamed Cuddy, not really. The woman had done what she had to do. Legally, she had been obligated to follow Stacy's wishes. He had never forgiven himself for not being there.

He had been at some stupid conference. Over in Seattle; he remembered it well. He had forgotten to turn his phone off while one of the speakers was talking, and it was just as well, because halfway through Stacy had called him. His ring tone had been tinny and embarrassingly loud in the silent hall, and many of those attending had turned to glare at him. He had whispered an apology, along the lines of a patient needing him, before hurrying with the phone out into the lobby. He had snapped into the phone, and had been greeted by Stacy's panicked sobs. She had cried as she told him that there was something wrong with Greg, had been for days, the doctors had thought it was nothing, and now he was lying in Intensive Care under heavy sedation. He attempted to question her about the medical side of things, but she could only tell him that Greg was in pain.

He was supposed to have been speaking at the conference, and he had told Stacy just that. He had said that he couldn't get a flight back to be with them until the next day, when he had finished. She had begged him to return earlier, saying that she needed someone to talk to, someone that could explain the medical jargon to her. He had told her that he had to stay, there was no other option, he was sorry and that he would be there as soon as he could.

Looking back, speaking at a conference seemed completely insignificant compared to what had been going on back in New Jersey. Stacy had called him again the next day, less than an hour before he was meant to speak, almost hysterical, saying that Greg had a blood clot and that his heart had stopped. He hadn't wasted another second. He had booked a flight back to New Jersey there and then.

House had never seemed to harbour resentment towards him for not being there at the beginning. But then, Cuddy had never seemed to either, until she had spat the accusation out in their argument.

He should apologise to her. He knew that. But he also knew that she was right – he should have been there, and he felt hugely guilty about it.

He couldn't face Cuddy just yet.