Rabbit Hole

Summary: Alternate take on the end of S5. House suffers a mental breakdown and a head injury. Will he be able to recover and who will help him set his mind right?

Disclaimers: I do not own House or the other characters in the show. I also do not own any of the songs or albums, products, or other TV shows mentioned. So please don't sue, my stuff wouldn't cover it...

Warning: This story contains swearing, child abuse, rape, severe mental illness, drug abuse, violence, and other unpleasant things. However, later on there will be sex and relationship stuffs…

Pairings: House/OC, Cuddy/Lucas, Wilson/OC, Chase/Cameron

"_text_" = foreign language

This is my first fic. It's also unbeta'ed. Please read and review…

Chapter 1 – Mind Fuck

It was bad enough that Amber was in his apartment, but now the place was crowded with the dead. His eyes scanned the room. Kutner, his father, former patience, dead marines that he had met as a child, the little girl from his second grade class who died of scarlet fever. He looked down at the bottle of Vicodin in his hand. Had it really caused him to lose his mind?

"Fucking pussy. You never could handle anything, could you? If it wasn't for me, you'd never be in line."

House backed up as his father came towards him menacingly. He hadn't felt this scared since he was a child. The man who was supposed to be a father, instead promising swift violence and evoking fear. The man who was supposed to love and protect his family, who would rather beat him and his mother. House backed into a corner, hoping to save himself.

"This isn't real! You are all dead! You can't hurt me!" House snarled at the crowd, trying to take control of his mind. If he could just be strong, this would all go away, it would be just a bad dream.

"Of course this is real," Amber giggled evilly. "You tried to kill Chase. You killed me. You killed all those people who came to you to get well. Now you're going to suffer for your sins. And, just maybe, you'll die too!"

House gasped as his father grabbed him around the throat, choking him. As his vision began to go grey, he was slammed to the floor. Pain flooded his body and he screamed. He tried to get up, only to find himself pinned to the floor by several people. He remembered them, they had come into the ER when he was doing his emergency medicine rotation in medical school. They were all druggies or thugs that had either overdosed or been shot. He couldn't have helped any of them, they were too far gone to save. One man, who he remembered had been stabbed to death for attacking his neighbor's son, smirked at him.

"I'm gonna fuck you, and it's gonna be fun. Only for me though." He grabbed House's jeans and ripped them off. House snarled and went to attack the man, only to be thrown back down onto the floor.

"Come on baby, I like 'em better when they fight. Too bad that jerk killed me, I had fun with lots of guys. Now, I'm gonna make you scream like they did."

The pain of being raped is nothing like the pain that he had in his leg. His leg he could deal with, it was somewhat logical. Being pinned down and forced, illogical. All he could do was scream and try to get away.

The crowd either cheered or watched with blank expressions.

"Come on, it ain't that bad. I did this crack all the time."

"What's wrong little boy, can't deal with the pain?"

"Stupid fuck, doesn't even know how to save himself!"

"He deserves it, damn junkie!"

"Take it like a man, you fucking pussy!"

"Now you know the pain you give others, you heartless bastard!"

Amber loomed over his head, laughing at him. "Time to die Greggy. Any last words?"

He looked at her, angry, fearful, and in pain. He couldn't take it anymore. He started to kick and punch anything and everything in his path.

He pulled up his jeans, grabbed his jacket and helmet. He limped as fast as he could out to his bike. He was running on adrenaline as he started it up and tore out. He didn't know where he was going, nor did he care that he was speeding down the highway. He just drove.

He was doing fine until he ran out of gas. Some back alley, in some city, he cursed at his motorcycle for not having a bigger tank. He took off his helmet and started to limp his bike somewhere. He didn't see the guy in the darkness. He didn't hear him sneak up on him. He only felt the baseball bat to his back and then to his head.

House fell to the pavement. The man took House's jacket, wallet, helmet, keys, bike, and shoes. They would make him good money tonight, maybe enough to pay off his bookie. He laughed and pushed the bike out onto the street.

Blood ran down House's head, from his ears and nose. Broken bottles cut into him, barely breathing from the broken ribs. He faded in and out, only seeing the hazy light of a broken neon sign.

Brad, Stan, and Alex had been out on the town. It was Friday night and all three had gotten promotions at work. They partied and bar hopped until closing time. As they stumbled to the nearest taxi stand, they laughed at stupid jokes.

"Brad! Hold up! I gotta piss!" Stan knew he shouldn't had drank those last three beers. He giggled to himself, remembering his grandpa. "I gotta piss so bad or my eyes will float away."

"Piss in the alley, dumbass. And your eyes ain't gonna float away, you retard!" Brad said, laughing.

Stan went next to a dumpster in the alley. As he did his business, he looked around. "That's a strange looking trash bag," he thought as he zipped himself up. He went over to take a better look, only to find House in a puddle of blood.

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!" Stan screamed and ran out of the alley.

"Whoa, what the fuck man?" Alex looked at him, slightly pissed off.

"There's a dead guy in the alley! There is a guy, dead, in a pool of blood, in the fucking alley!"

Brad and Alex looked at each other, then dashed into the alley. Alex bent down to check for a pulse, Brad called 911, and Stan paced outside the alley. Soon the alley was swarming with cops and paramedics. The guys told the cops what had happened. Stan was nearly in tears after being interviewed for a third time. The alley was taped off, detectives searching for clues and starting on the crime report.

House had been put onto backboard, a cervical collar was placed around his neck. IV's were put in, an oxygen mask put on. One of the paramedics looked through his pockets for a wallet or something to identify him. He was disappointed to find only sucker wrappers. As House was loaded into the ambulance, the paramedic tried to get any sort of pain response from him. He also used his pen light to check his eyes for reaction times.

"What's his status?" Detective Vance came over to the side door of the ambulance. He ran his hand over his bald head, a nervous reaction that he had since he was a child.

"He's lost a lot of blood, got a bad head injury, possible punctured lung, and no ID."

The detective nodded and handed the paramedic his card. "I'll be over as soon as I'm finished here. Take him. If he comes to and says anything, let call me." The paramedic nodded and shut the door.

The ambulance drove off to Good Samaritan hospital ER…