Disclaimer: I do not own House. If I did, neither of us would ever leave my room ever again. ...but seriously, I don't own House or any of the other characters, just this plot and some psycho I managed to concoct to make the story work...
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Wilson leaned against Cuddy's desk and listened to the phone ringing on his end. It was officially 1pm and House still wasn't anywhere near PPTH. Sure, his best friend was notorious for sleeping in and showing up late, but this was a new level of late and it worried him.
The oncologist glanced down at his wrist watch and sighed seeing the minute hand reaching 10 past 1. He sighed and put the phone back on the receiver. Cuddy watched him with nervous eyes.
"He's not answering at home, right?" she asked him.
"No, he's not. That's not unusual though. What is unusual is that his answering machine didn't catch the call. That means there are too many messages, meaning everyone's been looking for him…"
Cuddy glanced up at her clock above her office door just as Foreman entered.
"Still no House?" queried the new arrival.
"No, still no House. Have you tried to call him?" asked Wilson starting to worry.
"Yea, we all did. We all left him messages figuring he was at home. We didn't try his cell though," said Foreman as he shifted his stance, "We figured he'd be irritated enough at our constant calling that he'd get back to us on his own."
Wilson nodded understanding the train of thought as he looked at Cuddy. Of course, Wilson knew Cuddy still harbored feelings for House, as much as she tried to deny it. It wasn't like everyone around PPTH couldn't see the tension (or cut it with a knife for that matter). He was surprised that she somehow still managed to keep her feelings hidden behind her administrative mask. He knew she was a wreck.
"Cuddy, Wilson, mind if I get a quick consult?" asked Foreman, sensing the awkward tension in the room and holding up the file brought to House's office earlier that day.
"Of course," replied Cuddy, putting the whole House situation to the back of her mind, "What's got you stumped?"
Foreman chuckled a bit, "Well, the case you gave us is just all sorts of strange. Percy is 76 and the only symptom he is complaining about right now is a severe headache. We've diagnosed the headache as a migraine, but…"
"But what?" Wilson asked, starting to get the feeling that something absolutely bizarre was about to tumble out of Foreman's mouth.
"Well, he was admitted today believing that he was growing out of control. Everything around him looked like it was getting smaller and smaller."
"So," assessed Cuddy, "He's hallucinating that he's a giant in an average world?"
"Well," started Foreman, "he was. Now he's convinced that everything around him is too large and that he's in fact shrinking."
All three doctor's were puzzled by the bizarre symptoms, yet somehow they all knew House would've figured this out as soon as he heard anything beyond the migraine.
"Now, before you start thinking we haven't done anything," stated Foreman calmly, "We ran blood cultures and have tested him for pretty much everything. We've got him in an MRI as we speak. Obviously, we've got to take a look at what's going on inside his head."
Cuddy nodded before she spoke, "I'm pretty sure that's the first place you all should've looked, but I'm glad you're making progress."
Foreman nodded, thanked both Cuddy and Wilson and walked out of Cuddy's office to get back to the team. He wanted to know if they had discovered anything unusual in the MRI…or if the MRI had gotten pushed back yet again for another emergency.
Cuddy looked at her remaining employee, trying desperately not to seem too concerned about the whereabouts of her Head of Diagnostics. She knew she had feelings for him, but she wanted to maintain a professional appearance; dating an employee did not fall under that category.
"Cell phone?" asked Wilson, knowing Cuddy wanted to find House.
"Yea," she said barely louder than a whisper.
Wilson took his phone out of his pocket and hit the number 5 on the keypad followed by the call button. It was mere seconds later that he heard his phone ringing and he silently prayed that House would pick up.
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House grabbed his phone out of his pants pocket, inadvertently dropping his pills in the process. He heard the bottle drop to the ground and roll away, but his need to get out of his predicament outweighed his need for a quick high.
He flipped his phone open with his right hand just as Eric, his crazed assailant, tackled him and tried to wrestle the phone away from the doctor. House let out a yell as the strain of holding off his attacker with his left hand put a tense strain on his shoulder, causing the wound to ooze a mixture of blood and puss. He shoved his legs under his attacker in an attempt to put more space between them, even if it did make his right leg throb painfully.
"Wilson! Listen, I've been kidnapped and shot. You've got to-" House started until Eric decided House had said too much.
There was a popping noise and House groaned and rolled to his side; his assailant rose to his feet and looked about wildly for the phone that had skidded somewhere across the floor.
House's jaw was now throbbing thanks to a rather well placed right hook. He closed his eyes and hoped that the popping noise had originated from a bone in his assailant's hand; instead, House let out a pitiful moan as he attempted to open his mouth. The loud pop was definitely from his jaw. Now he couldn't even call for help.
Eric stood over House, shaking his hand which throbbed terribly. His knuckles were already beginning bruise, but he couldn't help but smile at the punch that he had landed on the murderer in his home. If he broke his hand, it was worth putting the miserable bastard through the pain.
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The color drained from Wilson's face as he heard House speaking. He had expected a "House Hotline. For sex, please press 1 now." What he received was a cry for help, the sound of struggling and a loud popping noise that Wilson could only guess was a bone breaking.
"House? HOUSE! Where the hell are you?" he shouted into the phone, hearing a skidding noise indicating the phone had been dropped and slid across the floor.
He looked to his left, watching Cuddy who's eyes were wide with terror. He didn't know what to say or do. He knew if House had dropped his phone that talking into it would be pointless, but he didn't want House to think he had abandoned him either.
Based on what House had hurriedly told him, however, he knew that the police needed to step into this case quickly.
"Cuddy," he started trying to control the panic in his voice, "I think you need to call the police…"
Cuddy immediately leapt into action by picking up the phone and dialing the police as quickly as she could. Wilson, on the other hand, froze as a voice on the other end began talking to him in surprisingly calm tones.
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"Even if you call the police, they won't find him," said Eric standing over House with his foot on his wounded shoulder to keep him in place. House grunted as he felt a warmth starting to spread from the wound in his shoulder. He knew he was bleeding again and prayed he wouldn't lose too much blood, but knew the odds were starting to stack against him.
He scanned the ground for his Vicodin and saw it an arm's length away. If only he could snag it without Eric noticing. He began to snake his arm towards it, hoping if he moved slowly, it would be imperceptible.
"Are you still there?" asked the photographer looking out his window and admiring his view of Carnegie Lake.
"Yea, I'm here. What do you mean the police will never be able to find him?"
House faintly heard Wilson's voice through the ear piece of his phone, but he was more intent on getting his pills back at this point. His arm was almost halfway there.
"By the time I'm done with him, he'll be buried somewhere far, far away," said Eric as he chuckled darkly.
House froze upon hearing this. Sure, he was a surly bastard that didn't believe in the afterlife…or God for that matter…but that didn't mean he was ready to leave this world yet. He had too much to do here including (but not limited to) annoying the hell out of Cuddy.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let's not get to hasty, here. Nobody needs to die, right?"
"No one needs to die? You mean like my Sophie?" asked Eric starting to get angry again, "Did the bastard have to let her die too?"
House was inches away from retrieving his Vicodin. He could practically feel the pills sticking to his tongue and throat and he swallowed them without water as he was so accustomed to doing. His fingers reached the edge of the bottle, causing it to roll slightly and for the pills inside to rattle.
"What do you think you're doing?" asked Eric, his eyes filled with rage once again as he stared at the doctor pinned beneath him to assess the situation. He saw the pills and knew that if he hadn't been so enraged in that moment, he wouldn't have cared; however, he was pissed and wanted to make House as miserable as possible.
House made a desperate grab for his pills, succeeding only momentarily as the crazed man suddenly leaned nearly all of his weight into the heel resting on House's shoulder sending a jolt of pain through his body that caused him to clench his jaw. House immediately unclenched his jaw and moaned loudly. His vision was slowly fading around him and he so desperately wanted to disappear into the pain-free abyss that threatened to swallow him.
"House? HOUSE! What the hell are you doing to him?!"
Eric leaned over, never removing his heel from the wound in House's shoulder as he snatched the pill bottle out of the doctor's trembling hands.
"Vicodin, huh?" he asked, reading the label, "Well, Dr. Gregory House, you won't be needing this. I want you to feel your pain."
House closed his eyes in defeat and allowed the darkness threatening to overwhelm him finally take over. Slowly, the pain ebbed, as did his hearing, and he knew that he was blacking out. He only prayed, and at that he laughed inwardly, that he would be found before he woke up…or worse. And with that thought in his mind, House slipped into unconsciousness.
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Cuddy did her best to ignore the extremely difficult conversation Wilson was having with a deranged madman using House's phone. She was already a nervous wreck, and she knew that listening to the conversation would only make her nerves that much worse.
Her mind was on autopilot as she spoke to the police dispatcher that had answered her call. She vaguely registered that officers were on their way over to talk to her and assess the situation personally. She felt completely numb, however, as she heard the dispatcher say her farewells and hang up. Cuddy could only sit there listening to the dial tone to tune out Wilson's conversation.
Wilson heard the laughter on the other end, but the one thing that worried him the most was that he didn't hear House anymore. It meant that House had blacked out, otherwise there would have been zinger after zinger fired at this man more or less because he could.
"So, Dr. Gregory House has some kind of injury, huh?"
"He takes pain medication if that's what you mean," replied Wilson, not really sure of what to say.
"Not anymore, he doesn't. Not if I can help it."
"Listen, why do you want to hurt House? It wasn't his fault."
"It wasn't his fault? It wasn't his fault? Sophie is dead. DEAD! Considering House was the one that was supposed to save her, I'm pretty damn sure that its his fault!"
Wilson held the phone away from his ear as the man on the other end continued to raise his voice. The venom with which he spoke was absolutely horrifying to listen to, but he knew he needed to get something more out of this guy. Something that would give him a clue as to where this psycho was holding his best friend hostage.
"Okay, okay. Let's just take a moment to breathe. I mean, after all, its still a beautiful day outside. You still have your life to live."
"Ha. Its meaningless without Sophie with me. Now who am I going to take to Carnegie Lake?"
Wilson swallowed realizing this psycho was starting to open up. If he could get him to admit something important, hope wouldn't be lost.
"Ah, Carnegie Lake. Now that's a beautiful place to be. Too bad its so far from where I live."
"Yea, well its about a 10 minute walk from me. I don't even--"
Wilson sucked in a breath. Cuddy had definitely taken notice at this and her eyes bore into his face, trying to read it for any clues as to what was going on. She had heard Wilson trying to get chummy with the man holding House hostage and thought he was nuts. She didn't know Wilson was fishing for clues.
"Do you think I'm stupid?"
It wasn't the answer Wilson had hoped to hear. However, something else caught his attention. A background noise that he had not been expecting to hear. Was that…a train?
"No! No, of course not! I just want you to stop hurting my friend!"
"That was real clever pal. I'm through with this."
With that, Eric hung up the phone, leaving Wilson hanging out to the memories of the evidence he had given him.
"House is still in Princeton. Somewhere near Carnegie Lake and I..think…I heard a train in the background," he said before he turned to Cuddy.
Both the oncologist and the Dean of Medicine looked at each other for a moment before Cuddy immediately jumped on google and brought up a map of the city they lived in. If they could help cut down the search time for the police, they would have a much better chance of retrieving House before it was too late.
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A/N: Well, another chapter down and several more to go! I hope you're all enjoying this. If you have any requests as far as plot or suggestions, feel free to send me a PM. I read them, I promise! Please R&R! Thanks!
xoTrebleMaker
