Not in Princeton anymore.
The flight attendant’s laugh echoed down the narrow corridor, and while House’s words were inaudible it was easy enough to imagine what might have been said. Some vaguely inappropriate joke tinged with a laugh, leaving the promise of more to come. And with House, promises were never set in stone. They were always scratched out in ink, appearing to be permanent but susceptible to a bottle of liquid White-Out that could eradicate all evidence with minimal effort.
It was like that with them, sometimes.
A short while ago House had lifted her, placing her into one of the first-class seats when she’d fallen - literally - ill. And he had looked into her eyes with the concern of a colleague, friend, doctor, and more all at once. So many emotions that didn’t seem to exist previously, wrapped and wound up in the existence of a single moment. It was enough to make someone’s head reel, but Lisa Cuddy was made of something more. What upset others, she thrived upon.
House was gone from sight now, leaving her to shake her head in a cross between bemusement and irritation. Most of the other passengers had disembarked the plane, and those who had remained were hurrying to do so. Cuddy stepped to the side, allowing ample room for their passage. It was only reasonable, they’d had the great scare of a lifetime on a flight that lasted over ten hours, and they wanted to get as far away from the experience as possible.
In fact, she was more inclined to agree with them.
When the flow of people had receded, she shouldered her bag once more and moved down the corridor. She seemed to be the last one, even after the crew had disembarked, but that was just as well. More time to make sure she had everything, less time to deal with the anxious stares and the nervous whispers that tended to follow a medical situation.
Why hadn’t she seen it? House had known - then again, House always knew - but why hadn’t she caught on? And why had she then fallen victim to it? Never mind that it was embarrassing, it was outright dangerous. If House hadn’t been there, she might have fallen as ill as Ping - and whether or not it was in her mind didn’t matter. Because she could have died, and the people on that plane would have died with her.
It was a good thing that...wait.
Something was wrong, incredibly wrong, so wrong that Cuddy was brought to an abrupt halt in the middle of the terminal. When her footsteps ceased so too did any sound that might have been in the air around her, plunging her into silence. There wasn’t another person around, not anywhere in sight. How long had it been that way? Her thoughts had been so consuming that she hadn’t paid attention, and Cuddy mentally chided herself for the second time that day. If she kept this up, she was going to be out of a job.
But there was time to think about that later. Right now what mattered the most was figuring out what this meant. A glance around revealed that she was still in the same airport she had been when she left the plane. But had there been anyone else around then? The sickening twist in Cuddy’s stomach indicated that either no one had been around or she’d been too distracted to notice. Neither prospect was welcoming, and after briefly closing her eyes she repositioned her bag on her shoulder to begin walking again.
House must have gone on ahead - with that stewardess - to the baggage claim. He’d be sniping at whoever was in range if his bags weren’t waiting for him, and even that crass attitude would be a comfort now. Anything to give her the clarification she hadn’t completely lost her mind. Then again, this was House, and he’d probably enjoy contributing to her mental state if she let on anything was amiss.
Best to just find him and get out of here.
Pausing in her steps once more Cuddy tilted her head towards the ceiling to read the signs. Baggage claim looked to be down the corridor and to the left, and that was where she would go. Her footfalls echoed forlornly against the tile as she began to walk once more.