A/N -

Okay, my alcoholic elvish muse is at it again...another traveling Huddy fic. As the title suggests, we're going for a little international fare. I picked London because I've actually been there, though it's been a few years.

I'm gonna try something a little different this time. I'm actually going to attempt to branch out, and include more of the Ducklings (new new team), and I think it's going to be much longer than my fics have been lately.

This is set up, AU after Wilson. Cuddy and Lucas have went their separate ways (mostly, because Huddy gives me enough angst to worry about).

Anyway, enjoy!

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London Fog
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Well, I'll wrap myself in the cities I travel
I'll wrap myself in dreams
I'll wrap myself in solitude
but I wish I could wrap myself
In thee.

~ In Thee, Blue Oyster Cult

~ Chapter One ~

Prep For Takeoff

(Monday Afternoon)

Lisa Cuddy sat behind her desk, sighing. The memo had been sent, now it was just the waiting for him to burst into her office.

He never failed to disappoint.

"You're making me do what?" Greg House's voice rose with anger, his blue eyes blazing. A sneer had formed on his lips, and he glared at her.

"I'm," she emphasized, "not making you do anything. The Board wants you to go to a WHO conference on Swine Flu. Since your specialty is in infectious disease, I agree with them." She calmly informed, her own blue-gray eyes flickering with barely concealed amusement. Only Greg House would be annoyed and irritated about doing a part of his job.

"Well, tell the Board, I'm not going." He pouted, glaring at her. He folded his arms across his chest, and he gave her a look that clearly said, "make me."

"Fine," she said, calmly. She idly picked up a file, and she flipped through it, waiting.

He turned to leave, then paused. "Fine?" His upper lip curled into a puzzled sneer. "It's never just fine." He narrowed his eyes at her. "What do you have up your sleeve?"

"Nothing." She kept her voice mild and bored. She pretended to find the file interesting. She wasn't sure if her nonchalance was working, but she was hoping it was.

"No, no, no," he mused, tapping his cane, clearly annoyed, but interested. "You're supposed to throw a fit. Yell at me. Call my bluff."

She sighed, resting an elbow on the desk, cupping her chin in her palm. "Oh, sorry. Guess I forgot." Her lips twitched, fighting her smirk. It wasn't everyday she got the chance to force his hand. Normally, against all better judgment, he was right. "Or," she paused, getting his full attention, "I know that if you don't go, the Board will suspend you indefinitely." She pulled a piece of paper from the file. "It's part of your conditions for coming back." She gave him a thoughtful look, "You have to prove that you're an asset to the hospital."

He was fuming. "I have to do what?" His eyes grew wide, ad he limped over to her to snatch the paper from her. "This is bullshit," he snarled, letting her know his opinion on the matter.

"It's a part of your job now," she shuffled some papers on her desk uncomfortably, trying not to cringe.

"The next thing you'll be making me do is kiss their asses," he grumbled.

"Keep it up, and I will," she threatened back. "Not that it wouldn't hurt your cause," she scoffed. "You have been declared," she cleared her throat, "'difficult to work with.'"

"I'll be more than happy to kiss your ass, but you better be naked and bent over that desk," he leered, then he looked down at the paper in his hand, and he sighed. "So, where the hell am I going."

"London," she informed him. "And before you get ay ideas," she added quickly, "you have been assigned a babysitter."

"And just who in the hell volunteered for that? The Marquis de Sade?" He gave her a feral smile, thinking of all the ways he could torment the poor sap.

She drew in a deep breath, steeling herself for the worst. "No one," she declared clearly, enunciating every word, "volunteered." She gave him a hard look. "I was told to go with you. With a short leash."

At those words, a slow, sly smile crept across his rugged features. "Cool." He turned, leaving her to wonder what he was planning, and he limped away, plotting against her.

A short time later, he limped into the conference room adjacent to his office. All his current combination of fellows were there. Chase was sitting sullenly apart from the group, running his hands through his shaggy hair. He'd finally stopped wearing his wedding ring, House noted. Foreman was reading a Forbes magazine, cleverly ignoring Thirteen, who was sitting next to Taub, who was looking thoughtfully at the screen of her open cell phone.

"Sharing your homemade porn?" he leered as he entered the room. "You need to share with the rest of the class. I'm a very lenient teacher." He waggled his eyebrows at her, then shot a glance at Foreman. "But only if your ex-boy toy's not involved," he added, and, out of the corner of his eyes, he watched Foreman roll his eyes, and he flipped the page of his magazine aggressively.

"Not porn," Thirteen's lips twisted up in a Cheshire grin. "At least, not yet. My new girlfriend," she informed him, closing her cell phone with an audible **click**, was a former patient of Taub's.

"I'm sensing a threesome in the works." House returned her grin with a leer. "Or, a two and a half some."

Taub rolled his eyes. "Do we have a case?" he asked in attempt to change the subject.

House shook his head. "No case." He jerked his chin towards the door. "Taub, Thirteen, go do Clinic hours. Don't try to round up a case. I need to have a male bonding moment with the senior fellows." He grinned. "We gotta rock it old school."

As the two newer fellows left, Foreman and Chase exchanged a look. "What's up?" Chase folded his arms across his chest. "Is this just a ploy to waste our time, and yours?"

House smirked. "Nope."

Foreman frowned. "Then can we leave?"

"Nope." He propped his feet up on the glass table, and he pulled a fat black marker out of his breast pocket of his blazer. "I'm going away on a little trip, and I gotta leave someone in charge, so Cuddy can blame them for all the screw ups while I'm not around." He carefully watched their reactions.

Foreman's frown deepened, and he reached for the marker. House jerked it out of reach, then tossed it to Chase. "Chase," he barked, "You're finally ready. Don't screw it up. And, please god, don't kill anyone else!" He nodded to the marker. "Take good care of it."

Chase smirked smugly, but Foreman was visibly upset. "You're leaving him in charge? He killed a patient!"

"And you tried to help him cover it up!" House shot back. He gave Foreman a sharp look. "Have you done better lately? The last time you were in charge, one member defected, and you fired the other." He stood up. "You've fumbled the ball every time you've been put in the game. Time to put in the back up." He nodded at Chase. "I just hope your more like Aaron Rodgers, and less like Curtis Painter." He gave Foreman another hard look.

Chase nodded, tucking the marker in the back pocket of his jeans. "When will you be back."

House tilted his head to one side, and he placed his hand over his heart. "I'm hurt! You're not going to ask me where I'm going?"

Chase shrugged. "Either Cuddy's making you go somewhere, or you'll be hiding in an Atlantic City hotel room with a dozen hookers and a case of liquor."

House gave him a dry look. "Don't crash the Ferrari," he warned him. "And I'm still driving until Friday, so don't get too full of yourself." He nodded towards the door. "Now get the hell out."

Chase smirked at his boss, then left, slipping his hands in his pockets, whistling as he left the room.

Foreman wasn't as flippant. He rounded on House, glaring at him. "What the hell was that all about?"

House gave him a pointed look. "You honestly wonder why I won't let you be in charge?" His lip curled into a smirk. "You've blown it every time."

Foreman rolled his eyes. "No, I get that. Why did I have to be here to be humiliated like that?"

House smirk grew wider. "Seriously?"

Foreman clenched his teeth. "You're an ass," he finally said, and he turned to leave."

"Better lose that attitude before Chase takes over," he called after him. "He doesn't have my forgiving ways," he smirked. Foreman kept walking, leaving House alone with his thoughts.