A/N: It's been a long time since I updated, I know. I'd throw a bunch of excuses at you, but they'd just be excuses. So, instead, I beg forgiveness from my readers, and ask you to please enjoy!

Chapter 3: flight from hell

Wilson and House boarded the plane, making their way to their seats. House turned this way and that, trying to locate them, his bag swinging into other passengers each time he did. Wilson winced every time he heard a rattle of the pills in the bag, followed by a thump as it connected with a head or a shoulder.

When they were finally seated, Wilson was a little disappointed to see that he had an aisle seat. He had been looking forward to being able to look out the window at the ocean. Maybe he'd get one on the trip back. He clearly recalled his last trans-oceanic flight. He had stared out the window for what had to have been hours, at the crystalline blue ocean beneath him. It had been an awe-inspiring experience- it had been so vast, and one that he had been eager to repeat.

He certainly didn't want to ask House to switch with him. It was better not to provoke anything, even talking, out of him. He told himself he would just stay silent, and hope nothing embarrassing occurred.

The plane took off smoothly, and Wilson closed his eyes and put on the headphones that came with his seat, and tuned the music to some relaxing classical. He was listening to Vivaldi's Four Seasons when he felt an elbow mash into his ribs.

He opened his eyes, and pulled off the headphones. It was starting already. "What?"

"Nothing, damn, I just wanted to see if you wanted to watch 'Bring it on' with me."

"No, I just want to relax, maybe take a nap."

"Suit yourself." He settled in to watch the teen cheerleading movie. Wilson calculated how much quiet time he had. Not long. He continued listening to the music, ignoring House when he cheered for the Clovers not accepting Kirsten Dunst's offer to sponsor their squad in the national competition. "You go girl!"

Instead, Wilson lost himself in Beethoven's 'Fur Elise'. He was starting to drift off, and as he did, he thought about what would happen on this trip, all the good they had the potential to accomplish. And, the icing on the cake was that he would meet Sebastian Charles. He had heard a lot about the man, his work, and was anxious to get to know him and maybe accomplish a fraction of the things he had over there.

After an hour and a half, Wilson was lightly snoring, gone to the world, when all of a sudden, he was shaken roughly awake, by House, who had a hand on his shoulder and looked frantic.

"What is it House?" He asked, not really certain whether or not he actually wanted to know.

"There's….someone on the wing….some…thing," House said in his best William Shatner impression.

Wilson's head banged against the back of his seat three times, then he turned and looked at his friend.

"There is nothing on the wing of the plane. You're right about one thing, though. We are in the Twilight Zone, or at least I am." He rubbed the tension out of his neck and attempted to get back to his nap.

HHHHHHHHH

Foreman and Chase were sitting in the conference room, not doing anything productive, but staring at House's office door.

"Should we go in there and snoop?" Foreman asked.

"Probably shouldn't. Breaking in isn't right. It is his office after all. Plus, he's probably got it booby-trapped or something, like Indiana Jones."

"Yea, you're right. If we move anything, a huge boulder is going to come rolling down from the ceiling and chase us all over the hospital." The two men chuckled at the reference.

"So, what should we do?" Chase wondered.

"Well, we could work," Foreman said.

"No way! How does that saying go? 'When the cat's away, the mice will play'? Well, we're the mice, so let's play."

"Play what? We do anything out of the ordinary, and Cuddy will start watching us like a hawk."

"Well, let's start small. Let's go flirt with some of nurses," Chase suggested with a shrug. "We can go from there."

Foreman nodded his assent. "Ok, we'll start there." They got up as one, and left the department.

HHHHHHHH

After several hours of constant poking and prodding from House over stupid things, Wilson had become exasperated and had resorted to hiding out in one of the small, cramped bathrooms. He leaned back against the tiny sink and sighed contentedly. Quiet, at last. This was short lived, however, as the flight attendant's voice came on, telling everyone to go back to their seats and get buckled because of mild turbulence.

Wilson shook his head. No way was he going back now. Confident in his decision, he closed his eyes, and tried to relax in the uncomfortable confines of the bathroom stall. A moment later, the first wave of turbulence hit, and Wilson was jostled roughly from side to side.

He grabbed onto the sink to steady himself, and the wave passed, only to be followed by another, and another. When it was all over, Wilson knew he'd have bruises. He stood up dizzily, and walked in a daze back to his seat.

"Join the mile high club?" House asked as Wilson crashed into his seat.

"What?" It took a moment for Wilson to realize what he was talking about. "No! I just wanted to get away from you for a while."

"I'm hurt."

"I bet you are."

"Make it up to me."

Wilson sighed. "How?"

"Make the plane land."

"We're not there yet!"

"But I'm tired of flying! It's been hours, and there are no good movies on anymore."

"Tough. Grow up, and find something to keep yourself occupied. Sleep."

"Good idea." House grabbed the blanket from under his seat, covered himself with it, and closed his eyes. Minutes later, he was asleep, snoring lightly.

"Thank God," Wilson thought. He reached into his bag and pulled out the book he'd brought. It was starting to get dark, so he pushed the button for his overhead light, and began to read in peace.

HHHHHH

Chase and Foreman returned to the conference room after several hours of successful flirting, both of them having acquired dates for the coming Friday night.

Chase sat in a chair and put his feet on the table, something he knew House wouldn't want him to do. "Now what?"

Foreman thought a moment. "Now…we have some coffee."

"But we do that every day."

"I know, but I'm thirsty." He went over to the coffee pot and poured some into a mug that had been sitting upright on the nearby counter…a certain red mug. He looked at Chase with a smirk, and raised the mug to his lips.

Chase grinned back, nodding his head. "Nice."

Foreman took a sip, then immediately leaned over the sink and spit it out.

"What is it?" Chase asked.

"It tastes like soap!" He looked into the mug and noticed for the first time, the little flakes floating in it.

"Not only is his office possibly booby-trapped, but his mug is as well," Foreman dumped out the contents of the mug and set it back where he'd found it. "Yuck, I'm never going to get that taste out of my mouth. I should have noticed. It was right side up, and if I'd looked, I would have seen the flakes in it."

"The man is good. You gotta give him that," Chase said.

Foreman nodded. "He's good."

A/N: I know this is short, and I'm sorry for that. Please review. As a reward for your patience with me and your review, I may send either Hugh Laurie or Jesse Spencer (your choice) to your house with the beverage of your choice (not soap filled coffee, I hope!) Thank you!!