House walked slowly back over to where Wilson was comforting Rachel, holding her on his hip because he was worried about glass on the floor. The tear tracks on her face were going, but he could see clearly that House's composure was white as a sheet.

"What did he say?" Wilson asked quietly, turning Rachel away so she wouldn't hear. She didn't like this and clamoured to be facing them again.

"That they think she's the ninth in a long line of women," he replied, and Wilson frowned.

"I don't understand," he questioned.

"There have been eight - well, maybe nine - women abducted and," House took a deep breath, "killed by the same guy."

"Oh."

"Yeah." House agreed, looking at the sadness on Wilson's face. "Oh."

"What are you gonna do?" Wilson said after a moment.

House shrugged and rubbed a hand across his forehead. "I... honestly have no idea. I can't imagine..." He tailed off. "This is not something I'm prepared for."

"No one's prepared for this House," Wilson soothed, "it's not an expected occurrence."

"That's exactly my point!" House continued, "I don't know what I'm supposed to do here because there is no way to act here. Do I... go home? Wait? Sit around bugging the police until they strip search every man, woman and child in New Jersey?"

"I - I can't tell you, House. I don't know."

"As helpful as that is," House snarked, "it would be useful to have some actual advice here."

"I can't give it to you!" Wilson exclaimed, jiggling Rachel.

"House," she piped up. "What's happening?"

"Mommy's missing." He said simply.

"Missing?" Rachel repeated. "Like... what?"

House grimaced. The whole point of saying it so bluntly was so that he didn't have explain it detail, hoping that Rachel would be too distraught to ask questions.

"Like when you lost your bear," he elaborated, remembering the panic when Rachel had realized that Mr-Whatever-His-Name was not in her bag.

Rachel's lip quivered. "But... but we - we didn't never find him," she stuttered, and House realized that he'd used a bad analogy.

"Sorry." He thought. "Mom's gone away for a bit."

"Where?" Rachel asked.

House sighed. This is why he avoided kids. "Somewhere."

"That's a bad answer," Rachel pointed out.

"Well it's the only one I've got, alright?" He snarled, and she reared back, pressing closer to Wilson's chest.

"I want Mommy," she mumbled.

"You can't have her," House answered snidely again, feeling his chest tighten. Cuddy was missing, his Cuddy was missing. Abducted, kidnapped, whatever, this was serious. This was bad.

"What House means is," Wilson interjected, "that you're going to only be living with House for a while."

Rachel looked horrified.

"It's alright kid," he assured, "I've got no rules about ice cream consumption and I couldn't give two shits about when you go to bed... So you've basically got a free pass to wreck havoc."

"I don't like it," she whispered.

"I know," House agreed, eyes softening. "I know you don't want me, but right now I'm all you've got."

Rachel deliberated this for a moment, before nodding. She held her arms out and House took her. He would have put her down but he didn't want her bare feet to get dirty and put dusty footprints everywhere.

Glancing at the kid currently on his arm, he watched her yawn and her eyes flutter. "Better get going, huh?" He asked, but she shook her head vehemently.

"No."

"No?" Wilson asked.

"I'm going to wait here until my Mom comes back." She said decidedly.

"Nope," House said, taking off for the car, "you're coming home."

"House - " She began to protest, but he shushed her.

"We don't know where she is, Rachel. I know you want her, and right now so do I, but there's no use wishing and hoping that it'll happen, because it won't."

He carried her back to the car and deposited her in the back seat. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with her?" House asked, turning to Wilson.

"House, you've spent time with her before..." Wilson reminded, but appreciating how hard this was - or was going to be - on him.

"Not like this. I've never had her... depend on me before," he revealed, and Wilson saw the flash of pain.

"I know this is hard, but you can do it," he assured his friend. "Hopefully they'll have Cuddy back quickly, but until then you have me and Sam if you need us."

"Oh good," he crowed, "Satan's Child-Hating Spawn and you. Yep, Rachel's going to be fine!"

"Don't do anything stupid," Wilson warned.

"Like what?" House scoffed.

"Vicodin," Wilson said quietly, and House felt another stab of pain in his thigh. "Your leg hurts more when you're stressed, and right now you're pretty much as stressed as you can get."

"Thanks for the psychoanalysis," he said sarcastically, "but I'm going to be alright."

"So is she," Wilson replied quickly, and they both knew which she he was talking about.

House put Rachel down on the hardwood floor of the living room, and then threw his leather jacket onto the couch. "Bed," he instructed.

"It's too early," Rachel countered, "and I need to have my bath."

House rolled his eyes. "Can't you be a normal kid and be satisfied in your own filth?"

Seeing the trepidation in her eyes made him realize that he was being insensitive. She obviously didn't understand what was happening, and was anxious enough about being solely with him. "I'll run it for you," he murmured after a second, knowing that she'd either burn or freeze if she ran it herself.

"Thanks," she answered.

They both stood there awkwardly, waiting for the next move. House took the initiative and started toward the bathroom, turning on the taps.

Rachel stood in the doorway, chewing on her lip. "House," she said, as he was testing the bath water with his elbow.

"Yes?" He muttered absentmindedly.

"I, uh... I don't really understand what's happening. This is weird."

"Basically," he flipped over and sat against the tub, "your mom is away for a while. She's going to come back, but it might not be for a few weeks. Until then, I'm going to look after you."

Rachel considered this. "She is coming back though?"

House knew that there was only one acceptable answer. "Yes."

"Okay," Rachel nodded, "you'll be nice, won't you?"

"I'm not nice?" He asked.

Well," Rachel wheedled, smiling, "you could be nicer."

House smirked. "Get in your bath," he told her, pushing off the ground. "And don't drown!" He called back to her, as he went into the living room.

He sank back on the couch, and realized that all he wanted in that moment was for Cuddy to walk through the door and sink down next to him, nuzzling his neck and putting her head on his chest.

The door stayed closed and his neck stayed un-nuzzled.

He turned on the TV, hoping to distract his attention before he started blubbing like a baby. The first thing that flashed up was the news.

44 year old Lisa Cuddy, Dean of Medicine at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital was reported missing this evening, after being abducted from the hospital parking lot. Police say that they are hopeful that she will be fou -

House turned off the TV, breathing heavily. Seeing her smiling face on that screen, totally unaware. She could be anywhere... She could be in a basement, or a car, or tied to someone's bed frame. House shivered. She could already be dead.

He blinked, refusing to believe that that might be happening. That there ever was a future that didn't involve Cuddy being with him.

He rubbed his face, especially over his eyes. How could this happen? How could everything change, how could everything fall apart in the space of a few hours?

How could he pretend that everything was going to be okay when inside he was scared shitless?

He knew that Rachel would eventually ask questions. She'd run with the "Mom's away" story for a fortnight, but then she'd begin to doubt it.

And anyway, the police might need to talk to her. Or she might see the news channel when she's flipping over to a cartoon. Or a friend's parent might mention it to her, not knowing.

It was a strange feeling, knowing that you're responsible for a child. After spending so long fooling himself, it was amazing to realize that Rachel did trust him, and while having him be her carer was not her first choice she was definitely okay with it.

What if something happened and he had to tell her Cuddy wasn't coming back?

Would she stay with him? Would he want her to stay? Would it be too painful to see her go?

He didn't know. He was felled. For once in his life he didn't know all the answers.

.

Cuddy felt the tears well in her eyes as another blow fell across her face. The lingering sting in so many places was leaving it so she felt like she was on fire.

She wasn't cut out for this. She'd never had a particularly high pain threshold and she knew that this was minor. That it was nothing compared with what's to come.

Another forceful hit slammed into her cheek. She toppled back, colliding sharply with the wall before falling to the floor and trapping her chained wrists beneath her.

There was blood dripping off the bridge of her nose and onto the floor.

"Ssh..." He said softly, running a hand down the back of her calf.

She flinched away and whimpered, knowing what would be coming next. Wanting desperately to stop that from happening.

She felt broad fingers begin to work at her skirt zipper, pulling it down agonizingly slowly, so each tooth caught the air as it was undone.

Cuddy let out a sob, as tears mixed with the blood on her nose. Her face was mashed into the wall as he began removing her skirt.

She kicked out, catching him in the stomach.

"Bitch," he hissed, hitting her once more, hard.

Then her skirt was slid off her legs. She pressed her lips together, to keep from crying out. He watched for a minute, holding onto each smooth calf.

Then he got up, dusting the blood of his hands. "Enough for today," he told her quietly, but with an unmistakable element of happiness in his voice. "See you tomorrow."

He walked swiftly out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The noise echoed through the darkness, until there was nothing but the sobs of a scared woman to be heard.