A/N: Well, I've got to warn you. This fic is NC-17 because it has esplicit sex and violence and rape. And this would go the same in the next chapter.
But well, if you think that you are mature enough, read it. I don't want to spoil this, so, go!

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Chapter 1

Too good to be true

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The shine of the cane was dull, reflecting all the possible light of the place plunge into darkness. House unhooked his new cane from the motorcycle after having parked in his new home. How weird the phrase sounded. New home. But it was true. As weird and true was the phrase: House was happy. Despite he still was the same jerk as always, the acid and sarcastic comments were still hidden in the tip of his tongue to come out in the inopportune—inopportune for everybody else, of course—, he was all the happy that he can imagine that he could be.

House took the keys and opened the door. The sound of the childish laugh coming from the kitchen was the first that welcomed him, immediately followed by Cuddy's voice.

"Put the table, the dinner is ready."

"And how about a good evening? How was your day, honey?" was the answer from House while he removed the jacket and limped towards the kitchen.

"House, we'd been all day together arguing about the chemotherapy that you wanted to give to the fever patient, so I perfectly know how your day was."

However, despite the arguing when he entered the kitchen, Cuddy greeted him with a kiss. Then, doing balancing act worthy of an acrobat with the cane and the plates, House obeyed his girlfriend—that really was something that he couldn't get used to—had asked him. The chicken with rice was tasty, even though there was missing the delicate balance of condiments that only Wilson knew how to do. For some moments, the diagnostician stayed thinking of his best friend, but soon, the possibility of a sex night drove him away of his thought. And so the possibility could change into reality, he took care that Rachel was asleep after cleaning the table. When he reached the room he found Cuddy waiting him with her best outfit of underwear. Undoubtedly this would be a good night, he thought with lust.

Later, when the director of the hospital was curled up between his arms getting ready for sleep, once again the thoughts of his best friend invaded him. It had been a while since he last saw him. Both were busy with a lot of work and that the two had girlfriend take out the little free time that they had. Well, he said to himself, maybe tomorrow I could arrange a little time to steal him the lunch.

"There is something wrong?" asked Cuddy with woman intuition.

"Nothing," lied House while he closed his eyes to spend a pleasant night sleep.

Wilson close the last file from a patient, Sam Connery, fifteen-years-old and already he barely had two months left. His eyes sting him, but not enough so he would fall asleep over the desk, but yes to make him yearn for the comfort of his bed and Sam's around him. With a sigh, he put the papers in his briefcase and took his coat. After making sure that he was not forgetting anything, he turned off the light and went out of his office. Once in the parking lot, he took out the key of his car and started to play with them in his hands. It was dark, he thought, weird. He raised the look to observe the streetlights. Several of them were broken. That was not there the last time I checked, he reasoned. But he attributed it to a lack of attention from his part, he minimized its importance and continued walking. The beep of the car alarm deactivating sounded in the silence of the night.

The oncologist didn't hear the steps that were coming closer. Everything that he felt was a hard blow in the back of his head and then he found himself in the floor downwards. A kick in the ribs prevented him from trying to get up. Somebody took him by the hairs and dragged him to a darker site of the parking lot. He scream out of pain, but a new kick, this time in the face, made him shut up. Soon he felt the metallic flavor of the blood that came from his nose in his mouth.

The hands released him. Wilson stayed in the floor, shaking, terrified by the consequences that the smallest of his move could bring. Something hard strokes with the shape of a stick stroke him in the back. Once more. And again. Soon he was insensitive to the new pain. After who knows who the blows stopped. But then, the doctor felt something more that chilled his blood.

"Quiet, pretty one," said his attacker while he pressed a knife against the neck of his victim, "Don't do anything. You wouldn't want that I had to disfigure your beautiful face."

Wilson nodded as he could trying that the knife damaged the less possible the skin of his neck.

"That's how I like it," said who ever it was whit a whispering voice.

Next Wilson stopped feeling the knife blade against him, to listen the noise of the cloth being tore. The oncologist was devoid of his shirt and in a similar way followed the rest of his clothes until he was naked in the open. With a thoughtless strength he was pushed against the floor and with terror he heard the sound of a zipper being opened.

Oh, my God, he thought, I'm going to be raped. This has to be a nightmare from which I'll soon wake up. But the pain of the forced penetration and the extreme physical presence of the other convinced him that this was no nightmare, but the cruel and horrible reality. The fierce movements hurt him and he could almost feel the inner skin of his butt tearing apart. The feeling of the penis of the rapist inside him made him nauseous but the physical and emotional pain was bigger. The frenetic rhythm against the rough cement floor scratched him. After what seemed years, Wilson felt the other come.

He felt relief, now everything will be over. It didn't matter if he killed him with the knife or if he just left him there freezing. Everything would be over. But he was wrong. The stick. He was being raped with the stick now! Is that this hadn't got an end? However, it was short, it was only the time enough for the rapist to regain his erection. Without bothering to remove the stick, he grabbed him by the hairs and sat him. The stick was acting as a laver with the floor and hurt him, as a doctor he didn't want to imagine the damage that it was producing to his rectum.

Merciless, the attacker put his member inside Wilson's mouth.

"Suck!" he ordered.

Despite he was chocking, Wilson obeyed as he could. Whatever it took to finish as soon as possible. But the rapist had resistance and the end seemed not to exist. Finally, after what this time seemed centuries, the oncologist felt the salty taste of the semen. Now, he didn't allow himself to have hopes, who knew how much he had to endure. But he was wrong once more. With a violent push, he took out the stick from the butt and he trough it in front of Wilson's view. It was a cane.

It's the same as House's new one, he thought, but his is a bit lighter and it doesn't have stains of blood. Then, everything went black.

Thirteen had come back to the hospital a week ago. The reason why he had gone away was simple; she was confused and needed sometime alone. It was that when she left the letter, she had found out something. She was pregnant. Foreman was the father and he had not found the chance to tell him yet. She didn't want to be attached forever to that man. But the time alone, made her realize what the responsible thing to do was. The neurologist had to know it, because when her illness finished her, the child would still have a parent to be with. That only if the other one accept it.

But without matter what, that day the doctor walked with his mind made up to tell him before the size of his belly was noticeable and the words were unnecessary. While she walked, lost in her thoughts, making over and over again phrases that she would say, her feet walked on their own. And she didn't know why she deviated from her usual route, it was early, she had decided to come earlier than everybody else so she had time to soothe. She never took the long path trough the parking lot, she had never liked it. But for a special reason today had been the exception.

The lights were out. That was strange, she thought, at this early hour they should be on. And then she saw him. Curled up on the floor, stained with blood and with a light layer of snow.

First was the surprise from finding something like that, then;

"Oh, my God!" she said when she recognized the person on the floor.

The blood had dry in Wilson's face, under the disfigured nose. And yet in the unconscious, an expression of terror was in her face. Dr. Hadley inspected quickly the oncologist before wake him up. He was full of bruises everywhere, but the worst was his buttocks. The red scab was big, the inner damage had to be terrible, it was a miracle that he was still alive. Thirteen put two fingers in Wilson's neck, where she could see small curs, probably made by a knife press. There were beats, weak, but they were there.

Wilson slowly opened his eyes. First he was confused, but then the fear took control of him. He feared that the nightmare wasn't over yet.

"Easy, Wilson. It's me, Thirteen," she hurried to comfort him, "Everything is okay. All is over now."

The oncologist wanted to speak now, but he couldn't. He didn't have the strengths ad she close her eyes. He found safety in the friend hand resting in his shoulder.

Hold on, Wilson, hold on, thought Thirteen while she took the cell phone to call the hospital and that somebody came with a trolley. And while she waited, she took off his jacket and put it over the defenseless man. After a while they came from E.R. and put him in a trolley, covering him with a blanket. Thirteen was about to go with him when she noticed the cane of the floor.

The same thought that came trough Wilson's mind before passing out, went through hers. Could it be possible that House has done that? No, of course not. The idea disappeared as fast as it appeared. But it did remain that one that told her that there was something dark behind all this.

The sirens were heard, Thirteen sighed, surely the police would want her testimony.

House grumbled trying to get to sleep. Cuddy had got up ad she spared on noises. Undoubtedly she was trying to convince House to get up too and went early to the hospital. But the woman was underestimating the nephrologist stubbornness. The phone ringed.

Great, just what he needed, more noise. The sleep was already out of her reach. But it didn't matter, he still was stubborn enough to refuse to open the eyes. Cuddy answered the phone.

"Hi?"

And then silence.

"All right… Thanks for calling…"

The sound of the receiver crashing against the device.

"House…"

The named opened the eyes. He knew it wasn't time for games.

"House…" the director doubted, but there was not gentle way to say what she had to say, "Wilson was raped."

"No…" was all he could say.

No, he continued repeating in his mind. No, no, no, no.

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A/N: I hope thar you liked it. And I know that it doesn't seem slash yet, and less Hilson. But I think that somehow is pretty obvious how things will go.
This is just the begining. Those who know me for a while, I hope that you can sense and improvement, because that's what I'm trying.
By the way, I need a Beta-reader. Somebody that can help me correcting all the grammar and vocabulary mistakes I make during translation. Anybody volunteers?
Again, I hope you liked it!