Hi!
First, I would like to thank Any, who has kindly reviewed this fic! Thank you SO much, it means so much for a new author!
Second, I would like to say that this chapter contains improper language, so, please, if you're offended by that, don't read.
Thirdly, I have to say that Reviews are like chocolate! PLEASE, feed a starving author.
Now for the fic.
House could have sworn time stopped while he scanned his office.
Icy, death-grip fingers closed around his heart when his eyes met Tritter's frosty blue ones, and he could feel cold numbness running through his veins like frozen blood when he saw the cop's wicked smile, yellowed teeth showing Tritter was again prisoner of the cigarettes. But it was not only that cruel smile that told House he was surely going to have problems.
The pistol Tritter was holding reinforced that message.
But that wasn't the only problem.
Tied firmly to a chair on the side of his glass table, Cuddy stared at him behind a dishevelled lock of raven hair with red, tear-filled eyes; a narrow, watery patch was already forming through her pale cheek. The paleness, combined with her extremely tense body language, told House she was soon going to pass out. As he locked eyes with her, an expression of both guilty and desperation crossed her emaciated face, her breath growing faster as her reddened lips opened partially to, repeatedly, form the words 'I'm sorry' .
When the vague idea of answering her crossed his mind, a sudden gold flick of light caught his attention, making House move his eyes away from Cuddy's. The sun-kissed hair reflecting the light belonged to Chase, who was chained tightly to one the table legs, his clear cerulean eyes focused heavily on the floor. His inner self said something about Chase always resembling a kicked puppy, but House paid no attention to that: he was eyeing the man next to the wall, also chained to a table leg. Foreman. Like Chase, his dark eyes were fixed on the floor, and House watched a trickle of blood running down his mouth, falling as red teardrops on his white shirt. Neither of them looked up at House, and the diagnostician could not blame them.
A tall, large man was holding their heads down with pistols. His dark-green eyes shone with a maniacal fire while looking at House.
Fuck.
He knew that guy.
He was a patient House treated previously while he was forcefully during his clinic duty. A marathon of General Hospital was on TV. House really wanted to watch it, and, in the process, he was being successful in breaking his own record of "being-an-ass-to all –patients-in-order-to-get-rid-of-them". The guy was a boring case of bipolar disorder, and he remembered being extremely rude with the man as sending him to psychiatry.
Oh my…
Each systole-diastole sent painful ice-blood through his body, making his eardrums throb faintly, filling his mind with a low zooming noise. His body was engulfed with numbness.
Something strange was happening. Everything seemed so unreal, like covered by a thin dreamy haze…House could barely see Tritter's smile getting bigger…
- House…
Wilson's weak voice blasted through the haze like a projectile, dissipating it.
Time returned to normal, and he could almost feel the soft ticking of all the Hospital clocks. Full consciousness hit House hard, making him blink several times. He focused Wilson, handcuffed to the chair behind the glass table. The oncologist appeared to be mildly disoriented, his breath a little shallow, like someone who had been hit in the head.
Seeing Wilson like that pulled a trigger in House's heart, and, abruptly, the image of Cuddy's tears and the defeated looks on his team members eyes turned the icy blood that was flowing through his body into a boiling fiery rage. He just needed to hurt Tritter. Badly. He forgot for a moment the facts that he was crippled, Tritter was taller and had a gun. Adrenalin turned pain in his thigh into nothing, and the cane in his hand was now a weapon.
- You son a bitch…YOU SON OF A BITCH! – House barked, breathing fast.
- Hush, Doc. – Tritter smiled. - We are in a Hospital. Shouting is not allowed here, even for the great Doctor House. You surely wouldn't want to go to jail, would you?
- Ah, so this is what this mess is all about. – House retorted, his voice growing louder.- The tiny petty ugly cop couldn't be big and strong enough to arrest me with legal proceedings, so now he will hunt the people around me in order to force me to surrender? Grow up and be a man, little germ.
- It's interesting that you, Doc, a man who thinks that the talent in discovering diseases makes him God, is talking to me about being an adult. – The cop was still smiling, apparently indifferent to House's rage. - Well, since you are not interested in what I have to say to you, you may go, Doc. Go to the other cops. The police. Tell them what's going on here.
- We just won't guarantee all your friends will be here when you arrive back, if you know what I mean. – The man holding the two pistols said to House in a low, sarcastic voice.
- You wouldn't do that.- House spitted, fiery rage mixing with cold fear, still looking at Tritter.- Tiny ugly cop would pee on his diapers like the big and fat moaning baby he is before having the gut-
- Really, doctor House? Maybe my friend Tritter wouldn't do it, but I…-Dark-green eyes pierced blue ones.- I would be pleasured to do that.- The black pistol dived more into Chase's hair, making him whimper.
- And imagine if- Tritter stepped dangerously closer to House. – accidentally, a bullet hit the pretty face of Doctor Chase…Or those dreamy eyes of Doctor Cuddy…Imagine if – Tritter was so close that House could see his own reflection in the cop's pupils.- someone shoots Doctor Wilson's leg and make him a miserable cripple…
No.
Fuck no.
- What do you want? – House manage to whisper, fear dominating rage.
- A judgement, Doc. A real one. Not that bullshit we played last time. See, you have your lawyers –he waved at Cuddy, Wilson, Chase and Foreman.- and the prosecutors. – Obviously himself and the other guy.
- And who is going to be the judge? – House asked, as he tried to rescue some dignity. - The Calabar bean? (1)
Tritter chuckled softly, getting away from House and grasping a chair, positioning it in a way that it was facing House's glass table, but making sure the chair was four or five feet away from it. It was a strategic position: sitting there, Tritter could not only see all the people in the office, but also make sure he could perfectly aim his pistol at them.
- Pop a Vicodin or two, Doc. You'll need it.- Tritter said while sitting, with a fake-kind smile.
When House's mind started shouting for him not to obey Tritter, his hand was already inside his pocket, retrieving the plastic orange cylinder. Surely, he told his angry inner-self, he would not manage to fight anyone in pain. Especially Tritter. He swallowed two white pills.
And waited.
And waited more.
The pills were already kicking in, but Tritter only smiled, lost in thoughts. No one was speaking.
- So…- House began, in a low voice. – What now?
Tritter looked at him, the mockery-kind smile turning into a cruel, almost maniacal one.
- Kneel, Doctor House.
Authors Note: (1) The Calabar bean is mentioned by Agatha Christie in her "Curtain". In the book, the detective Poirot says that the Calabar Bean determines who is guilty and who is innocent, and the guilty person ends swallowing the toxic bean, ending dead. It is not a very good explanation, but you can always google it for some more information.