Chapter 7

After Wilson's pathetic mishap with the coffee machine ("Piece of junk," he had added), much of the CIA staff was eager to boot House and Wilson out and get the home. Terzi had informed them that their helicopter was prepped and ready to go.

"Oh, and you'll also have to sign some disclosure papers…" she added, handing the two each a clipboard. "National Security."

House squinted at what was in his hand. "You do realize that these letters are microscopic and damn near impossible to read, yes?"

Wilson nodded in agreement.

Terzi let out a small chuckle. "Yes. Basically it's just stating that by signing this, you won't talk about what's happened here."

"It takes six pages of microscopic font to say that?" Wilson asked, slightly flabbergasted.

"Just sign it." She smirked, handing them pens.

After signing to keep their mouths shut, Terzi collected the clipboards and left briefly to go fetch a wheelchair for House. Wilson watched as House slowly sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed. "How's the leg?" he asked, trying not to sound too concerned.

"Sore, gimpy. Same as usual." House replied stiffly. He grabbed onto the IV stand and used it for support as he stood. A moment later, Terzi returned with a wheelchair.

"Ready?" she asked.

House eyed the wheel chair with the look that a five year old would give to a plate of spinach. "I'll walk. I'm fine." He grumbled stubbornly.

Wilson scoffed. "Right. You're not fooling anyone. You can barely stand." He pointed out, taking notice to House's wobbily legs. "Are you sure you're leg is alright?"

House hastily stepped forward to the wheelchair. "Fine." He lied curtly, settling into the chair. In truth, his crippled leg was killin' him. He figured, however, that just may have just landed on it weird when he fell from getting shot.

Terzi said nothing as she wheeled House out of the ICU. Wilson sighed, knowing his friend was lying, but tried to ignore it. A nurse had came in before to drop off House's personal items, so Wilson stuffed the clothes into his bag, grabbed the cane, and followed Terzi and House out.

They were accompanied by two men in suits and two helicopter pilots to the roof where the copter waited. Wilson watched as the two suited men assisted House in as Terzi stopped up beside him. He thought about saying something to her, but stopped when one of the suits waved for him to come on board as well.

"It was nice meeting you, James." She said with a small smile. Wilson was glad she used his first name.

"Let me know next time you're undercover in Princeton." He replied, before turning to climb into the helicopter. One of the suits hopped out, but one stayed on board as an escort. Wilson settled down in a seat across from House and found his friend smirking at him. "What?"

"No kiss goodbye?"

Wilson groaned and rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut up."

House did, but kept the smirk on his face, know that alone would annoy his friend.

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House had briefly dozed off on the flight home, which was a slightly amazing feat considering the helicopter was incredibly loud. Wilson nudged him. "Hey, we're about there."

House groggily sat up from his slouched position and looked out the window, watching Princeton Plainsboro glide into view.

"You doing ok?"

"Would you stop asking me that?" House snapped. "You're like my mother, for crying out loud. Worse than my mother, actually." He paused. "And uglier too."

Wilson shook his head. "Sorry," he said smartly, "I forget- you hate the thought of someone actually caring. I mean, you only gotshot…again. But, what the hell- you don't need anyone."

"Easy there, Dr. Phil." House said with mock hurt.

The helicopter began its decent onto the roof of the hospital. As they did, Wilson took out his phone and paged Cuddy, notifying her of their arrival. After landing, the suit took the wheelchair out and Wilson helped House off and back into the wheelchair.

"Crap…forgot my cane…" House mumbled.

Wilson nodded and turned back to the helicopter to retrieve the cane. He spotted it behind his bag and grabbed the two. He turned again to get off, but stopped when he saw something out of the ordinary.

Like the pilot pulling a large, silenced gun on his co-pilot.

Wilson barely could hear the shot over the sound of the engines, but watched in horror as it happened. He turned to his left, where the suit had been settling back into his seat. He stood quickly to go investigate, but then fell backwards at an awkward angle as two bullets ripped through his chest. Without another thought, Wilson dove out of the helicopter before he could become the next victim.

From the outside, House watched his friend literally dove and toppled out of the copter. He rolled on the ground, then managed to scramble onto his feet and rushed to House.

"The hell's wrong with you?" House exclaimed as Wilson began to wheel House away.

"House, its-…"

"I'd stop if I were you, Doctor Wilson." Said a cold voice from behind, followed by an equally cold, metallic sound. The metallic sound that no one ever wants to hear. Ever. The sound of a cocking gun.

Wilson did so. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned around, leaving House stuck facing the opposite way in the wheelchair.

"What, what is it?" he demanded, rather annoyed. He struggled to turned the chair around to see. "Oh…" he muttered, finding a frozen Wilson, hands in the air, starring at the pilot in the helicopter door pointing a gun at them. He was getting really tired of that...

The pilot had removed his helmet and House recognized the man as Agent Jackson.

"Well, this is certainly a surprise…" House said quietly.

"I ought to shoot you right now!" Jackson exclaimed angrily, his hand wavering slightly.

"And why is that, exactly?" House asked very simply.

"You killed Alrich!" he shouted. House figured that was John/Phillip's real name. His German name.

"Oh come off it. He killed himself!" House shot back, struggling to get to his feet. He felt better about himself arguing with someone when he could at least stand.

"House," Wilson warmed. "Don't argue with the man with a gun.." But House didn't listen as he swiped his cane from Wilson's grip and leaned on it heavily. Wilson shook his head, keeping a close eye on House. For one, he was about to get into an argument with an armed spy, and second, he wasn't really supposed to be up and standing after just being shot.

"Because of you, then!" Jackson shouted, letting his German accent slip through. "Because of you,he's dead! Our mission was a failure…you've exposed us…you have ruined it all!"

"Hey, you threatened me to come and help make him better. It's youwho dragged me into all this."

"House!" Wilson hissed.

Jackson's hand shook more as he debated over what to do. "Alrich…he…he was my brother!" he said bitterly.

"And you think killing me will make it all better? Yeah, you're a genius…" House snarked, taking a step forward. He stopped very suddenly, feeling a sharp pain in his chest from the bullet wound.

Is he out of his mind? Wilson thought with a flinch. "Do you have a death wish or something?" he hissed from the corner of his mouth.

Jackson thought for a moment, then lowered his gun slightly. Not much, just slightly. "You're right," he paused with a sinister chuckle. "Not only are you responsible for my brother's death, you've ruined an entire operation. You don't deserve the quick and easy way out." He gestured with his gun.

House and Wilson exchanged uneasy glances.

"You will suffer, Doctor House." Jackson, or whatever his real German name was, smirked and backed into the helicopter, back into the pilots seat.

Half a second later, the rooftop doors slammed opened revealing Cuddy and a nurse, totally unaware of what had just happened. They watched as the helicopter took off.

House turned slowly to face everyone. He shook his head at Wilson. "Put your hands down, you idiot."

Cuddy looked confused. "Did…I just miss something?"

"Yes, you have impeccable timing, Cuddy." House exclaimed, leaning more heavily on his cane.

Wilson let out a long, slow breath as he rubbed his left arm. He had landed on it funny when he dove out of the helicopter. He then shrugged to Cuddy. "Let's just say, we're in a deeper hole than we thought here."

"Care to explain?" she sad with her administrative authority, placing a hand on her hip.

"Maybe when we're inside," House said, somewhat breathlessly. "I'm kind of tired."

Cuddy took a sharp breath in, stepping forward to him. "House, you're bleeding."

House wearily looked down at his chest, seeing a small blob of red steadily growing into a large blob of red. "Damn," he breathed, feeling the strength quickly drain out of him. He thought he had felt a twinge there a moment ago. He quickly tried to take another step, this time towards the wheelchair, but soon stumbled over. Wilson had seen it coming, however, and stepped forward to catch House by his arms.

"Idiot…ripped you're stitches. Again." He grumbled, trying to keep both him and House on their feet.

"Trust me, this is getting old for me, too." House snarked back quietly as Cuddy ran to the wheelchair and started to bring it to them. The nurse who had been with Cuddy had ran back inside to call for assistance. Wilson's legs nearly buckled with House's full dead-weight fell into him as House fell unconscious.

Cuddy pushed the wheelchair up next to them and helped Wilson lower House into the chair. "You'd think he'd learn the first time…stitches tear easily." She sighed.

"Yeah, well, it's House." Wilson shrugged, now wheeling him quickly inside. "I'll get him to an OR to get him sewn back up…then I'll fill you in on what just happened, ok?"

Cuddy nodded, watching him go on. She let out a small sigh and rubbed her forehead. The madness just never seemed to stop around Princeton Plainsboro.


a/n: sorry for the shortness. More to come soon. Reviews greatly appreciated...good or bad! I just need to know how this is going so far...so yeah. Thanks!