A/N: Well, forgive me that it has taken me so long, but honestly it's a slow building fic, is hard to make it without falling in OoC, so...

I hope you like it...


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Chapter 2

Something fishy

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It had been at night.

"Hands up!" said a voice in the dark, what made his face unseen, the poor light of the place shined fiercely over the gun. "Strip!"

A brown haired and chocolate eyes man obeyed with fear. Trying to hide the trembling that controlled him as his life depended on that, because it did.

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Thirteen shacked his head. She had to put away those images from his head. Instead, he focused her attention in the police that was interrogating her. No, detective, that was what he had said he was. But she couldn't be sure in that moment, because she had been lost in the perverted images of his mind, she hadn't paid attention when he had said his name.

And ugly sensation ran through the spine of the doctor, and she knew it was not related to the fact of finding Wilson lying on the floor in that way. It was those grey eyes. There was something in then that she disliked, something inhuman. As if they were dead, she thought. A glacial cold that sparkled as if they take delight in other's misery.

"Please, tell me about how you found the victim," he said with a sweet voice, but sounded as devil's whisper.

"I was walking trough the parking lot and then…" Thirteen's voice stopped; once again the scene appeared before her eyes, as real as if it was happening again, "then I saw him lying on the ground."

"All right, easy," the detective wanted to comfort her, but there was something in his manner, in his essence, that disgusted the woman sense of Thirteen, "Go on."

"Once I checked that he had pulse, I called the hospital so they bring a trolley. That's all I got to say."

"We found this at the crime scene," said the man of the grey eyes, a sparkle shined in them while he showed the cane enveloped in an evidence bag, "Had you seen it before?"

"Yes," answered Thirteen, it was absurd that she tried to deny it, "near Wilson on the floor."

The sparkle in the eyes had intensified, he seemed like a feline licking his lips seeing the snack he was about to enjoy before throwing himself over his prey.

"Is it similar to anyone you know?"

Remy didn't know what to answer. He didn't know which the relation of that man with House was, but he knew he wanted to blame him for Wilson's rape.

"No," was the answer that came from her mouth.

"I had been informed that doctor House is a personal friend of doctor Wilson and that recently he had bought a cane similar to this one. As is my understanding you work for him, am I right?"

A look was all he needed, a silence affirmation. He continued talking before even waiting that the words started to take shape in the doctor's throat.

"You know? It is usual that those who know the rapist try to protect him. Usually they do it because they can't believe. But it's a pity though. Because now they are accomplice when they cover him and they end up in jail too," said with a smile that tried to be delightful but was hair-rising actually, "But that isn't your case, is it?"

"No, is not," said the doctor firmly.

"So you deny that this is the same that doctor House's one?"

"That's right," answered Thirteen, "Doctor House's one is a brighter color."

Remy Hadley was capable of noticing how the smile in the detective trembled for an instant. There was definitely something dark

House's mind didn't work as usual. One part was stuck, incapable of accepting the reality. And the other part created thousand of possible scenarios of how would he found him or how had all happened. When he arrived at the hospital he was surprised he didn't know how he had driven from Cuddy's house to there. He looked at his side by instinct to where his cane used to be. But he didn't have it with him. He couldn't tell in this moment if he had forgotten it or if he just couldn't find it. Those last moments had happened in a nebulous, and in that nebulous he asked for Wilson.

In that moment he was in surgery. They had to urgently repair the damaged tissue in his butt. The nephrologists stayed in the waiting room. Someone get close to him and started to talk to him. He took a while to realize it was Cameron, however, as soon as he understood she was trying to comfort him, he got angry.

"Go away," he said, "Go to comfort the mum of a cancer kid or something like that."

Cameron stammered a few words. House looked her with his more hurtful look that he had. He didn't care to hurt her feelings, he never cared, maybe after the year of therapy something had changed. But all that had changed. The doctor left him. At last, he wanted to be alone and delight himself in his misery until Wilson came out. And then some more until he wake up.

Chase took him out of his stupor when he came out from the operating room. House looked the doctor expectative, the barrier that separated the outside from his feelings was down but when he established visual contact they raised up again.

"He is stable," informed the blonde doctor trying to hide his worry with a professional tone, "The damage in the skin tissue was severe but we had been able to suture it well, however, he must remain in the hospital to control the risk of possible infections."

"I did Med School, I perfectly know why he must remain in."

Chase didn't back down.

"The anesthesia will vanish in five hours," and he didn't add anything more, it was known that it was his way of saying, "Go and make sure you are there when he wakes up."

Only for an instant House showed the intense pain he was going trough. The will was not enough even to make his mask of every day. But the stubbornness could more, and even his body seemed of lead, and as anger as his best costume, he put his eyebrows together and transform his mouth into a thin line.

Then he entered into the room and saw him. The wounds despite having been treated gave away the abuse he had received. The worst was in his face, a black eyed, grazes cause by the rubbing against the cement and that trail of weakness in his features that hit deep. And even though he would never admit it, the fear of losing him shacked him in the inside.

He stayed sitting at a side until he woke up. Finally, Wilson opened his eyes, as son as the conscience started getting up a trace of terror took control of the oncologist's look until the familiar walls of the hospital bring him back to the moment. The nightmare was behind. Then he noticed House at a side and the familiar presence brought him security. The eyes found with his friend's and that silent dialogue that only takes place between very close persons occurred.

"Next Thursday not matter what we must have our poker night."

Because it had been Thursday, and who knows, maybe if they had done it, they wouldn't…

Wilson understood the guilt of his friend and a weak but true smile slip in his face.

"Maybe when I feel better I can win you a couple of hands."

"Yes, like that is gonna happen if I don't let you."

They both relaxed, Wilson felt like he could rest. The horrible visions that came every time he closed his eyes were still there, but now, they stayed as just a product of his imagination and terrible memories, distant of reality. He was far from being okay, but everything seem to head to a soon normality, but if it were to be like that Wilson would have never be raped and the delicate peace that had formed was broken when those grey eyes entered trough the door.

"Good morning, doctor House," the eyes were delighted for a few seconds when they saw the reaction cause before turning toward the other, "Doctor Wilson."

"What do you want, Tritter?" asked House with poison in his voice.

"I'm here just to take declarations," and after a pause, he added, "I'm the detective in charge of the case."

And even though the lips remained still, it could be seen behind that look a grin from ear to ear of sadist pleasure. With a fake softness he sat in one of the empty chair close to Wilson's bed. The detective noticed how the patient moved slightly away from him. He arranged the papers that he carried in his hands before slowly raising his look towards House.

"All right, to begin, Doctor House, could you tell us where you were between 7.45 and 9.25 at night?"

"If you are suggesting what I think you are suggesting then you are a worst detective that I believed it possible," answered acidly House and yet he felt it as a lame answer, his mind didn't want to provide him with the sarcastic comments as always.

"You would do better answering the question."

"I was in Cuddy's house and I spent there the entire night."

"Can somebody confirm it?"

"If you are trying to blame you should really make a greater effort, I was all night with her," a sharp stab of guilt made him felt a bitter taste in his mouth, memories of the night of sex came to his memory, all while Wilson… of course, that was what Tritter wanted to do, he knew where to dig.

"Well, that's all for now. Later when you have rested I would like to take your declaration, Dr. Wilson," said while he get up to leave, when he was about to go trough the door, he turn around and staring at House he added, "By the way, Dr. House, where do you have your cane?"

The cane which Wilson had been hitter and raped, that one that looked so similar to that other cane that House couldn't find this morning.

"No," said Wilson, a frightened look fix on Tritter, "It wasn't him," he wanted to add more but the words were just lost in the way from his brain to his mouth.

"If you want to prove his innocence it would be good that you show me your cane, it would be good evidence in your favor."

Wilson looked at House begging him that he showed the cane, that he showed to that jerk how wrong he was. But House didn't have his cane, he hadn't been able to find it in his rush to come to the hospital.

"I don't have it here, it's at Lisa's."

"I would advise you that you bring it to the commissary as soon as possible to clean your name."

The oncologist contorted once more in his bed unable to bear with the idea of House even where related to it. And House noticed it. Enough was enough. And this had crossed the line. As if his incapacity didn't exist, he rashly got up and cornering the detective against the wall, he spoke:

"If I get to know that you had been related to it in anything, even the minimum, I swear to you that it will be the last thing you do in your life."

"And what do you plan to do," slowly said Tritter, "stuck inside me a thermometer again?" a sinister smile curved his features, "But easy, justice is always carried out."

And without adding anything more, he left. House stayed standing where he was, the failure could be read in his eyes, and also the helplessness.

"House," called Wilson.

However he didn't answer, Wilson had to insist once more before he turned around.

"I know that you had nothing to do with this…"

Wilson stopped trying to put the word in the right order, as always he tried to protect his friend. The diagnostician took advantage of the pause.

"It's my fault," he said.

The oncologist looked at him as if he just didn't want to understand.

"This is his revenge, he sent for you being raped. It's my entire fault."

"No…" said Wilson but he couldn't say anything more, the same tears that slip in his eyes, closed his throat.

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A/N: I've told you it's hard not fall into OoC, but well, I do it the best I can. Although I had my excyses. They are both in shock and let's remeber how House behaved in "Knight Fall" if he did all that to defend him from his ex-wife, what would he do in this case!

To sum up, I hope I didn't made them out of character...

It's slowly written, but I'm very proud of this fic. Thanks for all!

And oh, ths hadn't been beta-ed yet!