TITLE: Protecting His Kitten
AUTHOR: RaeAnne
RATING: PG, PG-13
SPOILERS: Well, through the second season and as this is the sequel to Turn Me On, it would spoil that story if you haven't read it.
DISCLAIMER: House not mine, and we'll use that pretty good rule of thumb that if you recognize it, it isn't mine :-) Lyrics, Elvis Costello.

A/N: Hi! Well here it is the sequel to Turn Me On! I hadn't planned on writing this but when it was requested it—it seemed like a fun idea. Hope you enjoy! RA
OHH, almost forgot, I am changing the guy who shot House (Cameron in my story), I have made up a character for this story—totally not Jack Moriarty, just a note so everybody doesn't tell me that I have the wrong guy LOL.

Protecting His Kitten

You better leave my kitten all alone
Well I tell you big bad bulldog
Well, you better leave her alone
Don't you know
My kitten isn't dead
Don't you know
My kitten isn't dead
So get your hands off of her
Cause I'm her lovin' man
—Elvis Costello, Leave My Kitten Alone

"Maybe you don't get this officer—" House moved his eyes to read the police officers name badge "Officer Ass-Kisser but that is my doctor in that OR so I don't really give a damn about your protocol and reports. What I do give a damn about is you getting the guy who put her there and throwing his sorry ass in jail," House yelled gesturing wildly before palming several vicodin from the small bottle in his suit jacket.

"Dr. House, the man who shot Dr. Cameron is in critical condition in this hospitals ICU—he has been arrested and will be formally charged. Right now, my job is to take this report to see if you and your colleagues will be charged in the beating of Mr. March." The officer whose name was really Jefferies gritted his teeth trying to be understanding of the situations but he had his job like everyone else.

"He—shot—my—immunologist! I see that you are having troubles with this, I apologize, I did not realize I was talking to a moron so I'll speak slower and just give you the highlights okay Keystone?

"Bad man March—see I knew he was the bad guy because he carried the gun—you do know what a gun is right? Black, shiny—no best not say shiny lest you get distracted…well anyway, it goes bang—leaves a nasty hole. Well this SOB came in and shot—as in made bleed profusely with a small lead bullet, my doctor. Seeing this I subdued—that is to say I 'stopped' this bad man from shooting her more than the two times he already had and as neither myself or my colleagues were eager to be next we incapacitated him…See I am failing to see where we are the bad guys in all this…Are you following me Krupke or should I speak even slower perhaps use visual aids?" House was ranting close to psychotic.

Everyone in the surgical waiting room was staring wide-eyed. "What? What? You got a problem?" House yelled throwing his arm wide at the people who quickly dropped their eyes and pulled their loved ones closer.

"House!" a sharp voice got House's attention.

"What?" House glared fire eyed at Wilson.

"She's out of surgery."

House stilled absorbing it. He silently asked the question his throat refused to utter.

"She's in recovery—she's going to be okay," Wilson gave a small smile with his nod.

House drew a breath letting it move through him. Dismissing the officer, he walked out of the waiting room. He felt it best—if he didn't leave, he couldn't be held responsible for his actions.

---Protecting His Kitten---

"This is stupid. All due respect detective but he had a gun—he shot Cameron, what would you have had us do? Ask him kindly if he'd stop being a lunatic?" Chase paced the width of Cuddy's office hands in his pockets.

"Chase is right, we had no other choice. I find it asinine you are even questioning us. Our actions were justified. Clearly, it was self defense as we were using reasonable force to protect our persons as well as our colleague what we did is the definition of self defense!" Foreman spoke from his chair in the corner.

The detective raised an eyebrow, "Either you've been watching too much Judge Joe Brown or you've done this before…Beat someone up, claimed self defense…"

Foreman folded his arms, "First of all Detective Mathis, Joe Brown is small claims not criminal as for the second…know what I am not going to go there—it would be pointless," Foreman shook his head in disgust and disbelief.

The detective opened his mouth to retort but Cuddy intervened; "Okay, I think we've cooperated fully detective and you have taken their statements so I think we are done for today. If you need to further talk with Dr. Chase, Dr. Foreman or myself you can do so through this hospitals in house council, here is his card," Cuddy handed over a crisp linen colored card embossed with name Charles Dove.

The burly wide shoulder detective accepted the card staring down Cuddy who stood behind her desk looking authoritative and resolved. Shaking his head, he lumbered from the office.

"Well this is just great, guy shoots Cameron and somehow we end up the criminals!" Chase lamented.

Cuddy sat rubbing her temple with two fingers in small circles, "No…you aren't going to be but House might."

"What? House is a cripple…how can they say he beat up March?" Foreman leaned his elbows on his knees.

"March is lying in the ICU with five broken ribs, a punctured lung, ruptured spleen, dislocated shoulder, brain swelling from a concussion, a shattered cheek bone, two broken hands, bruised kidneys and almost all injuries were the result of repeated swings by House's cane. We can't dispute this because the shape and impact points of the injuries are irrefutably the work of the handle of said cane.

"I don't know why they would go after him considering the circumstances but if appearances are correct I'll be courting a criminal defense lawyer before the this mess is over…It might be easier if March dies of his injuries as justifiable homicide might be easier to sell to a jury…" Cuddy let her shoulders drop with defeat.

---Protecting His Kitten---

"She's strong, she'll recover well. The bullet to her abdomen will undoubtedly give her the most pain but it missed vital organs the mending of muscle and tissue will take a while but it could have been much worse. The bullet to her neck is mostly superficial and it bled a lot but not threatening," Wilson calmly stood next to House at Cameron's bed side, "There is going to be pain but overall she is doing excellent," Wilson put a hand on House's shoulder to get him to look at him, "She's fine—she's going to be fine."

House nodded looking to Cameron who hadn't woken from the anesthesia yet. "Why did the asshole shoot her?"

Wilson was silent one hand in his pocket. Neither could think of a reason as to why someone would want to hurt Cameron. Foreman, maybe, Chase why not, House most certainly but not Cameron—never Cameron. The idealist, the tender hearted, the advocate, the one who fought for what was moral and right. Not her, it shouldn't have been her.

"This shouldn't have happened," House slammed his cane against the wall before spinning and marching as fast as his throbbing leg would allow him from the room.

Wilson had a very good idea where his friend was headed and what his intentions were once he got there…he wanted him to get there just as he wanted answers too. But he didn't want House to end up in jail so he waited—and then he followed.

---Protecting His Kitten---

The nurses were familiar with House's tirades and avoided him when he blustered and today, though they were instructed to notify security if he was seen on the floor, they acted no different than they would have on any other day. They disappeared ignoring him completely—they liked Dr. Cameron—she didn't deserve what happened.

House pulled open the door to March's room with flair—angry, outraged flair. The man's name was Marcus March, he was thirty-five but House really couldn't care less about the man's name or chart, he didn't care about whom he was—all he knew was that this was the man that shot Cameron.

They were keeping him sedated as his injuries were severe and insanely painful. Sedation was too good for him. House pulled a syringe and small bottle from a near drawer. He felt a small twinge of satisfaction as he pressed the plunger full of clear liquid into the IV.

It took a few moments but the man's eyelids began to flutter and a groan pushed through paper thin white lips. Finally, the sunken eyes opened already wide with pain and panic.

"Hello—remember me?" House growled leaning over March's bed.

March garbled a cry of outrage and fear from around his breathing tube.

"Yes, I want to have a conversation too," House grabbed hold of the breathing tube, yanking it without finesse or care.

March choked his throat constricting as he gagged. He tried to scream for help but House's hand clamped over his mouth.

"Feel that burning in your chest? That's your punctured lung—that throbbing in your side? Your broken ribs and that consuming pain in your face? That's crushed bone and I swear to God all that will be nothing compared to the pain I will give you if you don't tell me why you shot Cameron." House didn't yell, didn't raise his voice, in fact his words where uttered so lowly, so softly so deadly March would have preferred the yelling.

March flailed but with both hands in casts and anchored to his bed his every movement was sending rockets of anguish all through his body.

"When I remove my hand you can scream and I will make you wish that I had broken your neck instead of your hands—or you can tell me what I want to know." House lifted his eyebrows daring the man to try, to give him any reason as he removed his hand.

March heeded no warning.

House's hand came down with wrath as the knuckles of his other hand twisted into March's side where the broken ribs were. March cried against the unrelenting hand the pain nearly unbearable. House watched March's eyes start to roll back and he lessened the pressure of his knuckles at the last second before he knew the pain would make him unconscious.

"Shall we try again?" House growled seething.

March quit screaming eyes clearing. House removed his hand again.

"She…is…a slut…Deserved it…" March gasped gravely on a cough.

"Wrong answer," House's eyes caught massive fire, he covered again the man's mouth, and this time he pushed the fingers of his other hand into March's shattered cheek bone.

"That's enough House."

House looked over his shoulder to see Wilson in the doorway.

"I need to know why."

"You need to stop," Wilson stared him down. House struggled.

"You'll get your answers and he'll get his punishment but right now you need to walk away."

House didn't look back at March but he walked away. March immediately began to call for help but over the ruckus, House was still able to hear Wilson say "She's awake."

For the third though not the last, House pushed his aching leg to carry him to Cameron's side.

TBC