Posed to Death

Chapter 1: I will bring you down.

Disclaimer: I do not own House.

"It was a cold November evening. I remembered to bring in the mail as usual. House's only request of me staying at his apartment He had been popping more pills than usual and downing glasses of expensive brandy like it was nothing. I did not know that he was just plainly drunk that he had ran out of vicodin, he was just sitting on the couch watching some lewd movie. I moved towards the couch and turned to go to the bathroom, oh House…."

Flashback

House stood up suddenly, turning towards Wilson. His eyes were empty and it was if his body was some vassal of horrid evil. He looked soulless. I tried to speak to him.

"House, are you feeling okay?" I asked as I nervously shifted my weight around. He drunkenly squinted his eyes and paused for a moment to look at Wilson. It was taking him a minute to comprehend that he was even being questioned.

"Where are my pills Wilson?" This was a question he had received a lot recently, but not in the context he was putting it in now. It was an accusation. Wilson looked at him questioningly.

"House, seriously are you okay?" House was quickly losing patience, he was drunk and he knew Wilson had taken his pills.

"I know you stole my fucking pills, you better give them back. Tell me where they are!"

"House I never touched your pills! Calm down, jeez. You know I WOULD NEVER TAKE YOUR PILLS FROM YOU!"

The innocent deal pissed House off to no end, he snapped. Wilson stood there shocked when he saw anger hit House's features. He felt paralyzed as House came at him and scared when House pulled his arm back to hit him. The pain and the actual contact of House's hand with Wilson's lip busted hot white reality all over Wilson's denial. Wilson fell backwards into a vase, breaking it along with his dignity.

House was over top of Wilson, for a second he stopped.

"WHERE ARE MY DAMN PILLS?!!"

Wilson started to feel like he was going to cry but he held back the tears, though he couldn't hide his own voice betraying him. Wilson just shook his head.

House kicked him in his rib cage with fury. Wilson tried not to scream as pain tore through his body. He continued to do this as Wilson tried to crawl away from him desperately. He didn't know how much more he could take. House wasn't going easy on him. Wilson was beginning to wonder whether or not House was trying to kill him. He just assumed his friend was not capable of such and kept taking the beating, knowing he would eventually stop. Wilson again collapsed onto the floor, and again House stopped.

"Wilson friends don't steal their friend's medication." When House got nary a word he rolled James over and looked at him broken on the floor. He was a pitiful sight. House just shook his head and stepped away. Relieved Wilson stood up slowly clutching his stomach and wincing in pain.

"House, please, wait I haven't touched your pills, but I can write you a prescription. I would be glad to fill it for you too." House came back at Wilson again and again Wilson couldn't budge. House grabbed him by the tie, backed him up against the wall and put his hands firmly around Wilson's neck. He was chocking him. Thoughts raced through Wilson's mind. He was very scared now, House wasn't House and that's what he had been counting on all along. That House would stop but this was not him.

"I don't like thieves, they are lowly, scum. You, my friend have sunk to their level and I will beat the scum out of you until you redeem yourself." Wilson was starting to feel like his body was giving out, his legs were no longer supporting his frame, his neck was. House finally let go but grabbed Wilson by the arm and threw him through a glass table. Wilson was struggling to maintain sense, his senses were failing him. There was so much blood. He almost let himself sink into the darkness, but no he decided to fight it.

He rose up and decided that he would get a few words in.

"House, fuck you right now, fuck drunk House you ate all of your pills yourself and then forgot and blamed me. You are a shitty friend right now, just because you're Gregory Fucking House Doesn't mean you can beat the shit out of me whenever you run out of meds."

Wilson was standing in the doorway leading outside to the small patio. House eyed Wilson as he began to stumble around. 'Could it be true?' House thought. Did he eat all of his vicodin. Just then he looked up in time to see Wilson stumble backwards and looking on helplessly as Wilson fell over the balcony of the 2nd floor. His face was anguished right before he hit the slanted roof, his body flailing as he rolled and finally fell off of the side.

House screamed. That had brought him out of his stupor.

"WILSON! No……" He raced as fast as his gimp leg would allow, down the steps and outside. He found Wilson face down in the grass, blood was all about him. Death was creeping in. He checked for a pulse, almost afraid he wouldn't find one as he dialed 911. Quickly giving them directions he turned back to Wilson.

House tried to move him and Wilson screamed in agony. He couldn't stop screaming. House managed to turn him over gently anyways and pulled him into his lap. Wilson just gritted his teeth trying not to attract anymore attention to himself then he already had. Even then he still didn't want House to end up in jail. House was all teary eyed as he looked down at his best friend.

"God, Wilson. I don't know what happened. I'm so sorry." Wilson tried to keep his eyes open and not scream. He just whimpered and started to cry, he had never imagined pain so fierce, he finally succumbed to the pain and passed out. 5 minutes later the ambulance was there. Wilson stared to go into shock, House was helpless as they finally got him semi stable and put him into the back of the ambulance. Wilson's condition was rapidly deteriorating.