SPS: Well...yeah... I'll save my note for the end since it is a bit spoilery, but I'll say that the only thing mine in this story is the plotline, the words, and maybe the knife... The characters, and all other familiar objects are property of their respective owners
At the Knife's Edge
House and his fellows were in the diagnostics conference room, discussing their current patient. She was a thirty-five year old female who had uncontrollable spasms in her limbs without an obvious cause.
"Come on, doesn't any of you have a possible diagnosis that actually sounds plausible?" House asked, leaning against the whiteboard. Together, the team had come up with a list of possible conditions, most of which were some kind of neurological disorder.
"Well, until we get more symptoms…" Cameron started to say.
"Forget it. Go broad spectrum until we find something better to do. Until then, I want you to get me a—" House was cut off by a sharp ringing noise. He looked to his desk, noticing that the phone there wasn't blinking, as it would have done if the call had been coming through there.
"Which one of you idiots left your cell on?" he asked, turning to the three people standing at the table.
The three ducklings looked at each other before shaking their heads.
"I didn't," Foreman said, shrugging his shoulders.
"That's not my ring," Cameron replied, holding up her phone to confirm that it was off.
"It isn't mine," Chase countered, flipping open his phone.
Everyone looked around before settling their gazes on House.
"It must be yours then," Foreman said, sitting at the glass table.
House opened his eyes. He groaned as he realized that the ringing hadn't stopped and that it was coming from his cordless that he kept by his bed.
What the hell happened to my answering machine? he thought, weakly lifting his hand to grab the phone. Noticing the time—3:45 AM—he answered, ready to chew out the person on the other side of the line.
"If you don't give me a really good reason to stay on the phone, I am hanging up." House growled into the phone, lying back on the bed.
"House, it's…something's happened and I really think you need to come by." House recognized Cameron's voice on the other end. He was still half-asleep, but he could hear a slight worry in her voice.
"Nuh, uh. I need an actual reason. You guys can handle the patient, I'm sure you can." House replied, getting ready to hang up. The phone was away from his ear and his thumb inches from the "off" button when he heard her shout.
"House! It's Wilson!" His phone was back to his ear within a second.
"He's disappeared and no one has any idea where he is. His car's still here and we've checked everywhere. There's also something we think you should see." House hung up almost immediately, suddenly wide awake. Grabbing the pill bottle from the nightstand, he popped one and got up, wincing at the pain before throwing on his clothes and grabbing his keys and helmet.
Walking into the hospital from the soaking wet night, he ignored everything else and jammed the button for the elevator, pushing the fourth floor button as soon as the doors opened.
Upon arrival at the correct floor, the first person he saw was Chase, who was obviously waiting for him. As House walked along the corridor toward Wilson's office, Chase followed and started explaining what was happening.
"We needed a consult on the case. I know you told us that cancer was a bad diagnosis and it was useless to pursue it, but the symptoms that occurred after you left seemed to warrant it. I went to go and get Wilson, but he wasn't in his office. I checked with a nurse in the oncology lounge, she said that he was working late and was likely with another patient. That's when Cameron found me." Chase explained.
"I followed Chase into Wilson's office and was about to follow him out, but I noticed something." Cameron seemed to come out of nowhere. Following them, she continued. "I went back to get Foreman. He was checking the Oncology ward to try and find Wilson, but he came back to me five minutes later saying that no one there had seen him since five this afternoon."
"Cuddy came up looking for him after she paged him twice without any result and noticed we were looking for him," Chase continued. "She had checked the parking garage and knew he was still here because his car hadn't left. After another page, she left to find him." House and the others stopped as they arrived at the solid wood door to Wilson's office.
House turned. "Where are Foreman and Cuddy?" he asked.
"They're both searching from the Clinic to the roof again, double checking to make sure they didn't overlook anything." Cameron replied, shifting nervously.
"He's not an eight-year-old kid. It's not like he's lost in a toy store. Go and help them," House said, a hand on the door handle. As the two turned and walked away, House twisted the lever, pushing the door open.
The office looked as it usually did, the couch at the far wall, the chairs in the center, the desk with all its childish trinkets, the movie posters on the wall. House sensed that something was wrong. Wilson wasn't here, and looked as if he hadn't been here for a while.
Hearing a pelting of rain against the glass, House quickly twisted to look out the window. The wind had increased and with the rain as heavy as it was, the pinging against the glass panes became louder.
Observing the confines of the office again, he looked over the things on the desk, the shelves, finding nothing that would usually be out of place. The couch had nothing on it; neither did the chairs he was standing between, nor the shelf that lay behind him. His gaze turned to the floor, trying to find something, something that would show what happened to his missing friend. His gaze swept over the floor, looking at the grayish carpeting, knowing that if there was anything to find, it would be easily seen.
Near the couch, nothing that was worth looking at. Shelves behind desk, still nothing on the ground. Moving around to the shelves behind him, there was still nothing, unless you counted a small scrap of plastic wrapping; more than likely for some kind of candy. Turning, his eyes followed his movements as his gaze moved against the edge of the floor. When he faced the door, he caught sight of something on the floor. It might have been a faded stain, something spilt, but House knew that the sight was too sharp, the colors too different and clashing. This was recent.
House stepped forward slowly and tried to get a closer look at the stain. Reaching to the lamp on Wilson's desk, he twisted the light to flood the floor in front of it, where the trail began. When he saw the maroon color, his breath caught in his throat.
It was blood.
Personally, House was glad that no one was in the room with him. His lungs seized and it felt as if he wasn't able to get enough air in his system. Painfully, and grasping the desk and chair tightly, he kneeled down, observing the streaks on the carpet that he was surprised had been overlooked.
He hesitantly reached out for one of them, rubbing the darkened carpet and looking at the red fingers that resulted. It hadn't dried yet, which meant that this happened quite recently. He looked where the trail led to the door and possibly beyond. He was about to get up—his thigh definitely wasn't agreeing with this—when he was blinded for a second.
The lights flickered for the smallest of moments. House twisted sharply towards the balcony where he saw something shift out of the corner of his eye. For a moment, he thought it was the light sputtering on after the surge, but saw the shadow again. From his position, he had absolutely no way to see what was happening on the outside balcony. However, he didn't need that ability. After a second surge that lasted longer this time, he blinked and saw it. It was a silhouette standing right outside the door to Wilson's balcony, holding something long and thin in its upraised hand.
His breath hitched slightly for the second time that night as he realized that the object in the hand was reflecting the dulled, cloud-covered moonlight with the quality of polished steel. The reflected light was shining in his face and House realized that the object was a long dagger.
Ignoring the twist of pain in his thigh, House quickly stood and hurried to the door. Throwing it open, he barely registered the balcony entrance opening before slamming the oak door.
Wasting no time, he started moving as fast as he could…and nearly lost his cane as well as his balance. Managing to regain his stability, he looked down to see a not exactly noticeable but definitely there trail of red liquid.
He started limping away from the door, while unconsciously following the trail of blood until it ended at the elevator doors.
Risking a look back to the abandoned office, he saw the door open and that was enough waiting for him. Reaching behind him, he quickly jabbed the "down" button with his finger repeatedly. Looking back to the door, he saw the person coming out of the door with a care and preciseness that assumed that he knew the blood was there waiting for him to slip on it.
Hearing the faint 'ping' of the elevator, House turned and nearly forced the doors open so he could get on quickly. Before he could see the man exit his friend's office, he jabbed the "close doors" button, watching as he found himself relatively safe.
Only after the doors were fully closed did he push the switch for the first floor. As the lift started its slow, unhurried movement, House caught his breath, knowing that he would run into Cuddy and Foreman on the first floor. They didn't need to know what he saw, and House wanted to get to the bottom of this himself.
Another 'ping', and the doors opened again, this time revealing a darkened lobby, which led into the clinic and Cuddy's office. Limping off, he could already hear Cuddy's and Foreman's shouted voices, searching the exam rooms as well as every possible nook they could think of. Cuddy came back into the lobby and caught sight of House, stopping and walking toward him.
"So, you are here," she said, catching up to him.
"Well, when someone says that a person disappeared off the face of the Earth, you'd want to see it for yourself too, wouldn't you? Oh, wait, you couldn't do that; they've disappeared. Darn, I was too late," he replied, snapping the fingers of his free hand. Cuddy rolled her eyes before opening her mouth again to say something.
"Have you tried his cell?" House beat her to the punch.
"Five times already. He hasn't answered a single call yet," she replied, holding up her own cell phone. "Cameron and Chase are going from the roof down and are going to meet us at the third floor as soon as we finish here. Foreman's looking in the cafeteria and kitchen right now. Think you can help?" Cuddy asked.
House pondered this for a moment. Chase and Cameron were capable of checking out the psych ward for a missing oncologist, weren't they? Sure, Foreman was obviously checking the cafeteria if House couldn't hear him. Cuddy looked as if she had been busy.
"You check the parking garage?" House asked.
"I already told Cameron and Chase that his car is still—"
"No, I meant did you check it for him?" House asked, leaning forward slightly to punctuate the question.
Cuddy hesitated slightly before answering. "House, why would he have any reason to be there?"
"You idiot. If he's not answering the pages or his cell, either they're off, or he can't. Maybe he got mugged and he's out there lying with blood coming out his nose or something. Meanwhile, I'm going to go and check the basement." House explained, trying to expel the resulting images from his mind at that statement. He turned back to the elevators.
"House." He turned, watching as she glared at him before giving him a knowing look.
"What? I'm guessing you haven't even looked there." Especially if you haven't noticed the blood on the basement button yet…
"This storm is looking bad. If the power goes out, the generators won't be able to support the elevators and you'll be trapped in the basement, and there's no way you could get up the stairs. I wouldn't go down there right now, House." Cuddy explained.
House tried to ignore her, turning and stopping the closing doors with his cane before striding into the lift. As the doors shut, he responded.
"Too late."
As the doors to the lift opened again, House had to squint slightly before he could walk any further. The lights down here were bright in contrast to the dim of the elevator and the semi-darkness of the clinic a floor above. The lights in the basement were this bright 24 hours a day, and it occurred to House that if someone were down here, they wouldn't be able to tell whether it was night or day, as there were no windows. The sounds down here were also dulled, and only a faint hum was audible.
"Wilson!" House wasted no time after the elevator doors opened. He knew that there was no way a cell phone could work down here.
The basement wasn't a place people really wanted to go on a regular basis. Sure the floor kept some of the things that weren't really used often, as well as a few of the machines that they couldn't fit into Radiology. But the reason that this was the least frequented place of the hospital, though for a mediocre, cliché reason, what the room that took up the entire right side of the hallway, the Morgue.
House limped forward, finally getting used to the light and took the left side first, as it had more rooms. All of the doors here had small square windows and House looked into these as he passed. Mostly, these rooms were sparsely filled and, unless Wilson was making a grand effort at hide-and-seek, House would be able to see at least a sign of him.
Turning from the last door in the hall, he looked to the set of double-doors on the other side of the wide hallway. The windows there were dark, only a faint blue light glowing through the small glass pane. Looking to the floor before the doors, House found the bright red in contrast to the glowing white of the halls.
There was no time for hesitation as House crossed the width of the hallway. Taking a quick look into the windows, he pushed open the doors and took the three steps required to cross the threshold.
Looking around the dim room, he barely registered the lowered temperature as he tried to find any trace of Wilson. Making his way to the small set of stairs, he took two limped steps—
—and darkness engulfed him.
With a small sound, the lights shut off and complete silence filled the air like a tangible blanket. House stopped everything, standing and waiting for something to happen. Suddenly, he heard a distinct humming.
Two seconds after the power switched off, the generator clicked on, filling the dark room with a faint light from somewhere on the far side of the room. House blinked a few times before reaching for the left railing of the small stairs.
"Wilson!" he called again, a little softer. His voice echoed through the room, surrounding him and drowning out the outside humming. If Wilson were here, surely he would've replied within moments of hearing his voice.
"This isn't the time for games, and you know I'm not all that good at hide-and-seek. Everyone's upstairs looking for you, and I'm already practically trapped down here. Cameron dragged me out of bed to join this little search party, and I'm tired and I'm cold and it's four-thirty in the Goddamn morning!" House limped slowly down the small flight and came to the bottom, looking around a little more carefully.
House heard something shift behind him, but it was much too late to react. Before he could do anything, he felt something grab him around the waist and jerk him back against a warm body. He was about to put his cane to good use before he felt it.
Sharp, keen, and oh so cold were the words that came to mind as House felt the knife's edge line itself up with the right side of his neck, under his chin and only a thin layer of skin separating the blade from his carotid. The breath flew from his lungs and he found himself nearly unable to breathe. Only after reminding himself how to inhale and exhale, did he finally take a breath.
"Be good and hand over the nice cane," came the voice. It was breathy and low, clearly adjusted so it wouldn't be recognized, but House could've sworn that he knew that voice. The man didn't wait for House to reach his arm back, the cane was ripped from his grasp and House could hear the clatter as it hit the linoleum floor and was kicked away.
In a careless shift of position on his part, House felt something slip. Feeling something dripping down his neck, he realized that the blade had cut him. He could see the blood on the knife dripping onto the floor.
"What do you want, and where is Wilson?" House asked, regulating his voice to make sure he didn't sound too freaked. What happened to the damned security in this place? he thought.
"Why would you think I had anything to do with that?" the man asked, adjusting his arm slightly.
"Do you think I'm an idiot? That blood leads directly down here, now unless you have no knowledge of how to keep yourself safe with bladed objects, you have no right to be playing dumb," House stated.
"Maybe you're right, or maybe you're not thinking hard enough…" the man replied, taking his right hand from House's waist and pushing up his other sleeve. House could clearly see the bloodstained bandages around his forearm.
He…lured me here? What reason would he have to do that?
"Fine, you got me right where you wanted me, we're trapped in the basement without any way to contact anyone else. Now what the hell do you want?" House shot over his shoulder.
"Walk with me, Doctor." House was pushed forward as the man took a few slow steps, allowing for House to maintain his limping gait.
House caught sight of the examination table in the center of the room and assumed that this is where he was going. When his captor guided him to the center of the table, House had a small victory in being right.
The knife retreated, but House didn't have time to ponder the reason before his upper body was shoved forward, forcing him to press his face into the cold, sterile metal.
"No peeking, now." The voice was quiet, whispered right next to his ear, and House knew that voice. Because of the way he was speaking, however, it was taking him longer than he wanted to identify it.
When he heard something being picked up behind him, it came to him. Standing up and turning sharply, he confirmed his confused suspicions.
"Wilson!" House yelled, completely surprised. The man flinched and dropped the cane before standing and turning back to his victim.
"You caught me…" Wilson resumed his normal voice, holding up his blade. House rubbed his neck, watching as his fingers came back tinged red.
"What the fuck are you doing down here and why are you out to scare the living hell out of me?" House turned on him. Wilson sighed, reaching to a nearby table before throwing a roll of bandages to House. House started wrapping his neck with difficulty as Wilson started to explain. He picked up the cane again and started walking back to House.
"It was a clever ploy to get you down here alone…scare the crap out of you, and…well, make it so it was just us."
"You know, despite what your wives might have thought, you have a sick, twisted definition of seduction, if that was your intention…" House replied, playing along.
"But it worked, didn't it?" Wilson asked, taking the couple of steps required to get within arms length of House.
"If you wanted to scare the shit out of me, yes, otherwise, no," House replied. Wilson leaned in a little closer. Before House could get his thoughts of how idiotic this was out of his mouth, Wilson opened his mouth.
"Maybe this'll make a better impression then," he said before leaning forward the rest of the way to capture his mouth. House was surprised, and Wilson took every advantage of it to make the kiss deeper, pushing his tongue past the loosened lips.
It was a bit awkward, mostly because Wilson was on the verge of tripping over his precarious balance and House was still leaning against the table, not helping matters at all. By the time House got over the initial shock of it, he saw Wilson's problem and reached for the cane in Wilson's hand, twisting it out of his grasp and using it to quickly pin the other man to the table.
"What…"
"Shut up, Wilson." House leaned down to continue where they had left off. After a few minutes of deep kissing on their part, House drew back to catch his breath.
"You must be happy," House said suddenly.
"Why's that?" Wilson inquired, opening the eyes that House didn't even notice were closed.
"You got us trapped down here, more than likely until morning. Care to let me in on any other plans you've got?"
"Well, there's an empty room across the hall, unless of course you'd rather me reveal my master plan on this uncomfortable thing," Wilson replied, gesturing to the table he was pinned against. House quirked an eyebrow before stepping back and limping toward the small flight of stairs. Taking a look over his shoulder, he saw Wilson still against the table, catching his breath.
"Coming?"
Fin.
SPS: And to think this whole thing came out of my friend's request: "I want Wilson in black." Well, thanks for reading! This is the hardest genre for me to write so if you could drop a line and tell what you thought of it, I would appreciate it!