CHAPTER 3

SECRET REASONS

Notes: A few lines in to this chapter is a (boring) description of their whereabouts.

If you have no imagination and don't care how it looks where they are, skip it so you

don't waste too much time.

Chase woke up on his side, head pressed in to a stone cold floor. His body ached with discomfort from straining against the ropes, and from the position he'd been lying in. For the first few minutes, he was too scared to open his eyes and raise his head. He didn't want to know where he was, or who was with him. He didn't want to wake up, and hoped if he lay still long enough, he'd wake up from this nightmare.

But he couldn't. He had to know where he was and find a way to escape. He had to know who had done this. It was so cold in here...

He opened his eyes slowly. The first thing he saw was a cement wall just inches in front of his face before moving out of view. Holding his breath, he rolled, wincing at the fresh pain in his side and pausing for a moment to catch his bearings. His side felt swollen. But for whatever reason, the condition of his body seemed less interesting than where he was for the moment.

The ceiling was about five feet above where he was lying. He wouldn't be able to stand up straight. The only light came from a dim, rectangular light that flashed over in the corner – it reminded him of a detention room light. He slowly sat up, breathing heavily and swallowing several times as pain pushed its way in to his throat. He didn't want to choke to death before he knew where he was – and where was Thirteen?

He finally remembered that she had been with him. He rotated his head, scanning the room slowly and carefully. There were no windows, and one small door at the opposite end of the cavern-like room. It was an extremely small room, stretching about ten feet long, eight feet wide, and five feet high.

He felt extremely claustrophobic, only adding to his difficulties in breathing. Then, just in front of him and closer to the door than he was, lay Thirteen.

His feet were still bound, so he had to wriggle and squirm and roll his way over to her in agony from his side, and by the time he reached her, he was doused with sweat and feeling that nauseating twinge in his stomache and throat. He had to close his eyes and regulate his strained breathing for several seconds before he could sit up again.

As far as he could tell, she was unconscious and her breathing was as strained as his.

Just as he looked up, the door opened and a dark shape emerged. The shape was large, but other than that and the fact that it was dressed all in black, he couldn't see anything else. As the shape drew closer, Chase felt fear rising in his chest, and he stared at the approaching figure with panic in his eyes.

There was nowhere to run.

Nowhere to hide.

And he couldn't run or hide even if there was.

The figure reached towards him, and he jerked away, but the figure was fast and strong hands grasped Chase's head. He froze, wheezing silent breaths out of his nose and he waited for the person to kill him.

But he didn't. Chase was startled when the hands gripping him tore the duct tape off his mouth.

It burned fiercely, but he was too relieved to fill his lungs with fresh, cool air to cry out. He watched in confusion as the person turned to Thirteen and did the same. She didn't wake up.

"Who are you?" He managed to get the courage to gasp out. But the figure didn't respond, or even give any implication that it had heard. Instead, the figure turned and walked back out of the room, shutting the door.

"House! What are we going to do?" It was Taub, of course.

House rolled his eyes while limping quickly down the hall, knowing well that Foreman, Taub, Wilson, and Cuddy were all following him. His patience was already wearing thin, and he turned to glare at them.

"Well, we can search for clues – but no, that's the police's jobs! Oh, we can try calling their phones, but they've been kidnapped! We can go knocking on door to door to look for them, but that would be harassment," the sarcasm raised heavily in his obnoxious voice. They all glared at him.

He turned and walked away, his cane ticking on the floor, deep in thought.

They could not be found.

Thirteen's sudden movement jolted Chase out of his daze. He had been staring at the walls, wondering what House and the others were doing. Did they even know they were missing? How long had it been? And better yet, where the hell are we?

He wasn't sure how long it had been since their kidnapper had left them lying bound on the concrete floor. All he knew was that he was freezing and his body ached from the pains of the car crash. He couldn't remember what they were doing right before the car crash. It was all a blur to him. I can't remember, he thought.

But that was when his thoughts had been disturbed, so he didn't need long to broad over that, and he turned to look over at Thirteen who had sat up quickly as soon as she had come around.

She looked dazed and she winced and let her head drop down, twisting her arms as she tried to pull them free of her restraints.

"Thirteen?" Chase watched as she struggled fruitlessly against the ropes.

She turned her head to stare at him as though not realizing he was there.

"Chase?" Her eyes were glazed and slow to focus. He saw the blood that was now dried to her hair and face. "Where are we?"

She voiced the one question that he couldn't answer.

"I don't know," he whispered, shuffling closer, staring at her head.

"Let me see." He couldn't move her head with his hands tied behind her back. He knew she was likely to be stubborn and refuse, but he was shocked and concerned when she simply complied and turned her head.

He could see deep cuts embedded in the skin, some shiny with red streaked glass, while little ringlets of blood dribbled out of the wounds.

He knew she was shaking – he could see it. He forgot for a moment that he was shaking too as he switched in to doctor mode. He forgot it was freezing. He had to do something to stop the bleeding or she would bleed to death.

But what could he do without his hands?

He sighed, defeated. He felt guilty.

"It's not your fault, you know. Neither of us saw the other car coming," she said as though she had read his mind. She was beginning to lose strength – he could tell by the way she was slowly sliding back until she fell against his chest. He didn't move even as the blood from her wounds began to stain his shirt.

"Try and stay awake," he urged, as she stared at him with her eyes fluttering.

"This isn't a random kidnapper... He chose us," she struggled to speak, her voice slurring so it made it hard for him to hear "for a reason."

She was out again.