House, MD is the property of David Shore, Bad Hat Harry Productions, Heel and Toe Productions, and NBC Universal. I claim no ownership to any parts or characters.
House reached across the desk and yanked the receiver up, ignoring Cuddy's startled look.
"Very impressive, Doctor House," the man said, obviously amused. "Quite honestly, I didn't believe you would be able to do it...you even have five seconds to spare. Nice work."
He clenched his teeth. "Tell me what you want," he growled, nearly cutting the man's words off.
There was a long pause. House was positive it was deliberate, a way of mocking the adrenaline rush of fear and anger that was shooting through him.
The man waited another moment before speaking. "I would watch the attitude if I were you, Doctor," he said coldly. "It certainly causes trouble, which you have obviously found out in the past."
House instinctively got ready to snipe and had to hold his tongue, squeezing the receiver hard.
"Put me on speaker."
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The pressure against his face abruptly disappeared but he couldn't tell if the person holding the gun was still there. His breath shook when he exhaled.
House. They know House?
They know I know House.
Wilson closed his eyes and struggled to breathe.
It'll be okay. House knows. House will get help now. It'll be ok.
His head was suddenly snagged backwards, making him jump hard. A choked yelp escaped when he was forced still and then hot breath was hissing against his flesh.
"You're going to die." Wilson whimpered when tape was pulled over his mouth again. "Hear me, you piece of shit?"
He choked with fear and flinched when the hand buried in his hair pulled harder. The end of the tape was ripped off and then the sinister voice seemed to get even louder in his ear.
"You're going to fucking die. You can count on that."
Tears freed themselves again. His head was shoved forward again painfully and the hand released his hair.
Wilson heard footsteps around him. He cowered in the darkness and began to tremble. A loud slam made him jump again and then he heard nothing but silence.
He tugged against the ropes with shaking arms and sobbed.
It's not going to be okay.
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The fellows looked at each other in mutual confusion as they listened to House on the phone. It was impossible to see his expression from where they stood behind him but if the tone he was using was any indication, the man was livid.
Chase's eyebrows rose hesitantly. From his experience he was able to decipher most all of House's moods by the way his voice sounded. All moods other than "dickhead," of course. That one was normal.
He couldn't remember the last time he had heard House sound this way, thought.
Or if he ever had.
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House pressed the speaker button before replacing the receiver.
"Doctor Cuddy."
She jumped in surprise at hearing her name. Her eyes flew to the phone with bewilderment.
"Turn the computer monitor so that it faces the front of the room," the male voice said over the line, "and then step out from behind the desk to stand with the others."
She immediately narrowed her eyes and looked at House threateningly. She seriously wondered if the man ever took a break from creating new elaborate techniques to make her life unpleasant.
"House," she said warningly. "I'm telling you-"
"Do it," House interrupted forcefully.
He was matching her glare for glare. House had never used physical intimidation before but at the moment it seemed like that was exactly what he was going for. He had stretched to his full height and was leaning one hand against the desk so that the muscles in his arms were visibly taut.
She hesitated.
"GOD DAMN IT CUDDY!"
He was roaring practically in his next breath and that did scare her, in the literal sense, because it made her jump from pure reflexive surprise. He reached into her personal space and grabbed the monitor like he was about it yank it off.
"Move," he ordered as he wrenched the screen to face him.
She had already begun making her way around the desk before he even said it. There was shock and dread building on more than one of the fellows' faces when she met their eyes. Cuddy stepped slightly beside Foreman without speaking.
The time to challenge and badger was gone. It was obvious to all of them now that something was going on that was definitely not right.
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He wasn't fazed by the sounds of surprise from the others when the screen lit up with a live recording of them inside the office. House glared directly at it this time to send the message that he would not allow this guy to waste time.
"Doctors," the man over the speaker phone said grandly. "Let me take the opportunity to welcome everyone. Doctor House and I have already been acquainted, so how about we get right down to business."
"Stop playing games," he demanded sharply. He stepped up closer to the screen threateningly. "Tell me what you want."
"Ah…see, that's where the problems seem to lie, Doctor House," the man replied.
He definitely wasn't amused now. His pitch had turned dark so rapidly that it almost sent chills down House's spine.
"Everything is a game to you," he went on. "You go about freely shaking up other people's lives with gleeful abandon because nothing matters except winning, being first. Being best." He began addressing everyone then. "As all of you undoubtedly already know, Doctor House's games always wind up hurting those around him more than they actually do him."
The screen blacked out abruptly and their images disappeared.
"However," the man continued. "What is more disturbing seems to be the fact that all of you have started practicing this philosophy along with him. It is obvious that direct punishment can have no effect on someone as selfish and repugnant as Doctor House and I've seen how all of you have begun following in that path. That's why we've implemented a decidedly…different approach to get our message across."
The sight that appeared when the screen changed hit House right in the chest, as real as if a concrete cinderblock had just been shoved against him.
Wilson was in the same position on his knees but was now gagged. There was nobody else visibly near him anymore. He was trying to move his hands around and couldn't budge them. Deep choking whines were emitting from his trapped mouth but just his face alone made it harrowingly obvious how unbearably terrified he was.
The pressure in House's chest was constricting his breath.
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Thirteen couldn't suppress a horrified gasp.
What the- Holy shit holy shit holy shit!
Oh my god.
That was Doctor Wilson.
That…was Doctor Wilson.
Her eyes became the size of saucers and her stomach began to feel like it was full of lead.
Hadley had never had a close relationship with her family growing up and still didn't, despite the fact that they were still within distance in her hometown of Hoboken. She had been a "latchkey kid" since practically the day she was old enough to be left alone at home.
She certainly didn't consider anyone she worked with here to be as close as family. She didn't even really think of them as close friends. But (with the exception of House, because…really) she did try to get along with everyone and have good rapport. And truthfully, she had never had a problem working pleasantly with her colleagues.
Wilson was no exception. True, they weren't colleagues, and of course they would never be peers, but she knew him as well as she knew anyone else. He was around them practically as much as House was and she personally had had the tendency to seek his medical advisement on occasion when it seemed like going to House would be like poking a stick in a hornet's nest. She always felt better after talking to him. He was just as blunt as House was in telling her if she was making a mistake but always turned it into encouragement, suggesting possibilities of different approaches to her like they were equals instead of making her feel insignificant.
She knew that he wasn't always as nice as he seemed. She'd heard about his issues with infidelity during his marriages. Obviously he had a bastard side, because House was his best friend and there was no way he could not have a bastard side to him if that man sought his company. But she didn't believe in judging a person by imperfections. God knew she had plenty of them and it always stung when someone cast stones at her because of something she had done in the past.
The only side she'd ever seen of Wilson was what she was shown in interaction and she had never experienced anything but kindness. He was pleasant, he was generous, and he always looked out for them to make sure they didn't take anything House did to heart.
He was a great person in Hadley's book and if that made her naïve, well…there were worse things in life to be.
Seeing something like this being done to him was sickening. It made it hurt to breathe.
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House blew out a breath furiously.
"Look, I get it," he snarled, "I did something to piss you off. Fine." His teeth were locking together in fury as he spoke, making him hiss his words. "You got a problem with me, take it up with me. Be a man and face me, you shit-eating coward, but don't hurt my friend. Let Wilson go. There's no reason to involve him."
"Oh, you and I will dance," the man said coldly. "Trust me. But first you have some debts to pay."
Wilson's image abruptly disappeared from the screen. His heart stuttered when they were left staring at blackness. The man began addressing everyone.
"I came to this hospital because I kept having fainting spells," he said. "I went to two different doctors and then was admitted here because no one knew what was causing them. Everyone kept telling me 'Doctor House will solve this; Doctor House is renowned for solving medical mysteries.' Then I got put into a room and never saw him. Other doctors came in and out, saying that they worked for Doctor House but every time I asked where he was they said he was 'busy' working on the case."
The voice was affronted and angry through the speaker.
"They came in practically every twenty minutes to do another test and they were excruciating, more painful than anything I've felt in my entire life," he went on. "I asked repeatedly why it was necessary to do so many of them because it hurt and they just kept saying 'Doctor House knows what he's doing. We're sure we've figured it out.' I kept asking them to tell me what was wrong but they never told me. It was always 'just trust Doctor House.'
I was X-rayed, put under stress tests, numbed and endlessly pricked and two days later I was still in bed with no idea what was wrong and hadn't seen Doctor House once. I had to yell at them, demand that he come in before they finally went to get him," he said. "I sat there for half an hour before he showed up and the first words out of his mouth were that I must be the 'moron' who kept interrupting his lunch. I asked him why the tests weren't working and he just ignored me, came up to the bed, and jabbed the end of his cane hard into my chest. Said he was checking my reaction because I was faking, was probably so pathetic that I was pretending to faint to get a free pass out of my pathetic job.
He told me there was nothing wrong with me. He said that they all knew I was faking and they really didn't have to do all those tests, but they had wanted to see how long I thought I could snow them. He said that I was lucky he didn't admit me into Intensive Care for a week just to make me pay for an even longer stay in a more expensive room. He threw my clothes at me and said I was being discharged, then he walked out saying not to quit my day job to become an actor."
House had his eyebrows furrowed. He never remembered patients and there wasn't a day that passed when he didn't insult someone.
It didn't stop a sinking feeling from hollowing in his stomach.
"I've never been able to afford medical insurance," the man went on, "which you knew the moment you opened my file. But of course you had to flaunt your power by doing what you wanted to me regardless of how much it cost and knowing that I couldn't do anything about it if I wanted to fix whatever was wrong with me.
I was billed $250,000 for the two days I spent in your bloodsucking hospital. Of course I couldn't pay for it; I couldn't even begin to pay for it. I tried to make as close to the monthly payment as I could but it was never enough and each time more money got taken out of my account for the late fee. So now I'm $750,000 in the hole and still owing more and more with each passing month, and you are going to give me that money back. Every one of you."
He paused. House could hear nothing but stunned silence behind him.
"In two minutes, Doctor Cuddy will receive an email containing an account number," he went on. "You have 12 hours to get the money wired into that account. One half of the amount must be divided evenly among everyone except Doctor House. You, Doctor House, are going to pay the other half. An equal portion of payment must be transferred from each of you at the top of every hour for the first eleven hours, after which Doctor House must deliver the final payment in person at the location I provide at that time."
The computer screen came to life once more. They found themselves once again gaping at their own images.
"Every move you make is being watched," the man said coldly. "No one leaves this office and if I get even an inkling that someone tries to contact law enforcement, Doctor Wilson will be killed and his body dumped so far out of sight that not even the earthworms would be able to get to it."
The man spit his next words out bitingly. "Think of this…as a business deal," he said. "Or a test, if you'd like. I get my money and you get Doctor Wilson back. You fail to follow my instructions exactly as I have laid them out and he dies."
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His attempts to struggle free had been futile and as much as his brain was screaming at him not to, Wilson had given up.
His back muscles were aching fiercely from being forced into leaning forward even after he had scooted forward to relieve his arms of being stretched. The rope cut into his hands with every movement, rubbing against his skin to create a constant searing burn, and his legs were completely cold and numb beneath him.
His eyes stung with a vengeance. Once he'd started sobbing, it had been easy for the terror and despair to overwhelm him and he hadn't been able to stop until he was overpowered by exhaustion. He couldn't speak and could barely move anything above his waist, let alone his lower body. He was shrouded in blackness and couldn't have seen his hand in front of his face even if he had been able to move it.
Defeat eventually won. He knelt silently in the dark, occasionally assaulted by rebellious tears sneaking up past his throat, for what felt like years.
The unexpected loud bang made him jump out of his skin. A sudden flood of brightness made Wilson close his eyes painfully. He tried to open them but could see nothing but red spots and it hurt.
Three men were striding in from a door on the other side of the room he was in. He cowered down as they approached, instinctively beginning to shake. Two of them lumbered to stand over him and he gasped when they grabbed his shoulders roughly. He reflexively tried to struggle but they held him still.
The third man was crouching down to his eye level, his face an intimidating scowl of menace. Wilson recoiled fearfully back as the man reached for him.
Then his stomach dropped straight down and coherent thought disappeared when he realized that the man was aiming a long-needled syringe toward his neck.
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The screen changed without warning while the man was speaking and House's vision blurred. On the screen, three men were manhandling Wilson from his position on the ground and his friend was struggling, so terrified that it was palpable.
"You motherfucking-" His fists clenched and he took a step toward the desk. "Get your hands off of him! I'm going to-"
Then he froze in cold shock. His blood felt like ice in his veins.
One of them had pulled out a syringe and was moving it in Wilson's direction.
"Shit-!"
Someone swore from behind him but his senses had stopped and he couldn't register who it was. His brain was exploding at regular intervals in time with his heart.
Fuck. Shit. SHIT….!
Seeing Wilson's face twist up to look like he was screaming made him lose control.
"Stop it!" he roared. He grabbed the monitor with his hands again, shaking it. "STOP IT-!"
His air cut off painfully when the needle was jammed hard into Wilson's neck. Wilson's face went slack a second later and he pitched forward, the men letting go so that he slammed facedown onto the ground like a rock.
House felt like he was having a heart attack. He clutched the monitor frantically, his lungs pumping to keep air in his body, but the screen went black a minute later and he was left staring at his reflection in the glass.
"You have 60 minutes to complete the first transaction," the man said over the speaker. "Time to put your money where your mouths are, Doctors."
The cool, calculating tone was not lost on them. House swallowed, his hands falling away from the monitor.
"T-minus 12 hours and counting." The words sent chills up his spine. "Starting….now."
They were left listening to a dial tone.