The beating only lasted about five minutes, but to House it seemed to last hours. There was very little that could cause him this level of emotional pain, but being forced to watch these bastards hurt Wilson was almost more than he could take. Blood trickled down his skinned wrists as he fought in vain to get loose, to help his friend.

Wilson was very careful not to look up at him as the guard landed a series of vicious blows to his chest and abdomen, punctuated by a right cross to his jaw. House knew his friend thought he was helping by looking away, but it only made things worse. He couldn't even take the small comfort of looking in his eyes and knowing that he was okay, even though it hurt.

The older doctor felt a wave of nausea as he heard the sickening crack as one of Wilson's ribs broke, and he knew he had to do something. It was obvious that he wasn't going to be able to get loose, that left him one weapon. "Hey, you bastard! You're pretty tough when your victim can't fight back! Let him go and take a shot at me!"

That made Wilson's head shoot up. Blood dripped from his nose, and bruises were beginning to form on the lower half of his face, his chest, and his stomach. He looked pitiful. "Shut up, House!"

But as usual, House plunged on as the guard eyed him warily. "Let him go and take your personal inadequacies out on me. Uncuff me and let's have at this like men!" He looked at Wilson. "Lucky for you, his testosterone booster is about to wear off."

The guard seemed to be considering this, and Wilson let out a tiny whimper. "For the love of God, House, SHUT UP!" He could take the beating easier than he could take watching House suffer through it instead. Blondie whispered something to his partner, and the bald guard turned back to Wilson. "Looks like your friend gets his wish," he told Wilson. Pulling out his keys, Baldy reached for the cuffs. As he unlocked them, he drove his knee full-force into Wilson's groin.

Wilson hit the ground, stifling an agonized cry, and promptly curled into a ball. As he lay on the ground, retching, both guards grabbed House. He tried to protest, to help him, but was barely able to move. They drug House out of the room, leaving Wilson in a pained heap on the floor, unable to even scoot further away from the pool of his own vomit.

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House didn't resist as he was forcibly led down the hallway to the shower. "What's this?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant, to keep his fear inside. "The part where I drop the soap?"

"Nah," said Baldy. "You just gotta shower before we put you in with the rest. We're done."

It couldn't be that easy, but seeing as he didn't have a choice he went inside and took off his clothes. He was very aware that the guards were watching him closely as he limped toward the shower. His leg hurt and he wished he had his cane, but if this was the worst he had to endure, Jimmy was a dozen steps past him.

He started the water, and began to shower. The guards moved a little closer, and he watched them warily. He had seen this movie, knew how it ended, but if they thought he wouldn't put up a fight they were dead wrong…

He was so focused on not letting them get behind him that it didn't register that they had stood up on the wooden bench along the wall. By the time he saw the taser heading for the metal water pipe, it was too late. Blondie hit the button, and the electric current flowed through the stream of water into House's body. It paralyzed him where he stood, and he couldn't even get away. Pain coursed through every nerve and muscle, lighting him on fire. He couldn't even cry out. He wasn't sure how long he was frozen before the darkness mercifully overtook him.

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Wilson woke up to someone in a uniform shaking him. Pain shot through his entire body, and he tried to play dead, hoping they wouldn't hurt either of them anymore. "Jimmy," the young man whispered, using the name House had told him the previous night. "Jimmy, its Daniel. It's okay. Wake up!"

At the name, Wilson opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that he was still on the floor, but in a different spot, away from his expelled stomach contents. The second was that the entire left side of Daniel's face was covered by an ugly purple bruise, undoubtedly from his psycho uncle. He sat up. "Where's House?"

"He's waiting in the car," Daniel replied. "I took him out first, told him I'd get you while he rested."

"How bad is he hurt?"

"Not bad," said Daniel. "I talked the judge into dropping the bogus charges. C'mon, let's get out of here." He slid his arm under Wilson's shoulders and helped him to his feet.

An alarming wave of nausea hit, and he tried to double over to sooth it, but Daniel held him upright. "You can rest when you're out of here. Let's go."

They made their way painfully to the cruiser, and the young deputy deposited him beside House in the back seat. House was so relieved to see Wilson, it almost brought tears to the cold blue eyes. "Are you-"

"Fine. You?"

"Yeah."

That quick exchange finished, Wilson relaxed into the seat. "I'll take you back to your car," said Daniel. "But I have a question first. You guys just want to run for the hills, or you wanna have some fun? Get a little revenge?"

Wilson smiled, liking the way the boy thought. "Just what did you have in mind?"

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"So," House asked, hoisting the weapon in his hand. "This is how rednecks get revenge?"

Wilson held the gun carefully, checking over every inch of it with interest. It was too bulky to be mistaken for an actual gun, but still dangerous. "I've never used one of these before."

House raised an eyebrow. "Never played paintball? Man, I have been neglecting you. We gotta play sometime." He finished screwing in the reservoir into the body of the gun and held it up outlaw style. "These are nice! What, ten shots per second?"

"Thirteen," Daniel replied. "That one's mine, and the other one's Joey. It only gets about eleven, but it's more accurate. You guys got the plan?"

The doctors nodded as solemnly as soldiers going into battle.

Daniel was about a mile away from his uncle's house when he told them to get into position. House shouldered the paintball gun out the window, and Wilson leaned across his lap to point his too. "These things wash off pretty easily, right?" Wilson asked, and a ghost of a smile crossed Daniel's face.

"Usually, but not these. Joey makes these himself for things like this. They'll leave stains until judgment day." Wilson returned the smile.

"Search and destroy!" House exclaimed.

Daniel floored it down the dirt road, "Ready…"

House checked his weapon over once more, checked Wilson's over quickly, and then looked back out the window. "Aim…"

Both doctors pressed their drew a bead on the rapidly approaching house. "FIRE!!"

Wilson opened fire first, leaving a trail of red and black paint splatters on the side of the house. House aimed better, and busted out a window. Twenty seconds later, they were gone, leaving in their wake three hundred spent paintballs. All three front windows were shattered, paint stains covered the siding, the car, and the shed. It would be and enormous mess to clean up, and cost a fortune, but after what the man who lived here did to both of them, not to mention hitting his own nephew, it was well deserved. Not even Wilson's overused conscience would let him feel bad.

Both doctors collapsed against the back seat of the Crown Vic, exhausted. They hadn't slept in nearly 48 hours, hadn't eaten in nearly 20, and add to that the injuries inflicted by first the snake, then the hospital, then the irate father, then the irate father's friends at the jail. Wilson, content that they were safe and had avenged themselves, settled down into the seat, and soon found himself asleep with his head on House's shoulder.

House wanted to check Wilson's injuries over, but his friend just looked so comfortable he didn't want to move him. He was also bone-tired, and not sure he was capable of driving. Knowing that they needed to get out of town was one thing, being able to do it safely was another thing entirely. "Daniel?" he asked the man driving them. "I know we have to get away, but neither of us has really slept in two days. If either of us tries to drive, we'll end up like that four-wheeler kid. Is there a motel nearby that we could be safe in for a few hours?"

Daniel thought for a moment, deciding. "I'll take you back to our place. It's just me and Joey and Becca and Mama, though today Joey and Becca are at work. You guys can get some sleep, and some food, and we'll protect you. Jimmy looks like he's in bad shape. Should we take him to the hospital?"

House wanted nothing less than to take Wilson back to that hospital, but he would if he had to. "I'd prefer to check him out myself first. He'll be pissed if he wakes up there. They were a little rough on him last night."

"Dr. Ann?"

House smiled. "Yep."

Daniel drove them back to a small gray trailer on a huge lot, and House gently shook Wilson into something resembling wakefulness. He and Daniel guided the injured man inside and to the nearest bedroom. Easing him down on the full-sized bed, House took the time to examine him, first with a physician's critical eye, then as a friend. Daniel, as a cop and a paramedic's brother, helped as best he could. House couldn't help but shiver a little as Daniel pulled out a pocket knife eerily similar to the one the guard had and finish cutting the shirt off of him, slicing easily through the sleeves, fully exposing the abused body.

"Jimmy?" House asked, trying to get him slightly awake, and was relieved when he opened his eyes.

"What?" he asked irritably. "Wanna sleep!"

House smiled. "Okay, just in a minute. But I gotta check you out first. You wouldn't want me to take you back and let Dr. Ann do this, would you?"

Wilson shook his head quickly, and forced his eyes to stay open. "This is going to hurt, Wilson, I just need to know how bad. Ready?"

House waited until he nodded, then ran his hands down the damaged torso, applying slight pressure to swollen areas to check for fractures. His friend winced, but kept his mouth shut until House's probing fingers found the fractured rib, but it still only produced a broken whimper. "Hurt?" House asked. Wilson nodded with a wince, and House continued exploring the wounds. A horrific sunset of bruises covered his abdomen, and House had to put a little more pressure there to check for swelling that might indicate serious internal bleeding. By the time he was done, Wilson was squirming, and it took all his willpower not to smack House's hands away and curl into a protective ball. He knew if he demanded forcibly to be left alone, House would stop, but he would worry so much if he couldn't reassure himself that he wasn't in danger. Physical pain was bad, but worry over an injured friend was worse. Wilson knew the particular form of torture well.

Finally, House pronounced him beaten and bruised, but stable. Daniel left the two of them alone with instructions to get some sleep. Wilson turned around to lie on the bed properly, and House lay down beside him, taking special care not to touch him again or cause him any discomfort. "Want a vicodin?" He asked.

"Sure, I-" Wilson froze. "Wait, I think I…" He pulled two of them out of his pocket. "That's okay, I have these." He put them in his mouth and chewed them quickly.

"If you don't watch out, you'll turn out like me," House teased.

"No, I won't," replied Wilson seriously. "Because I won't be in pain forever. I'll heal." He shifted painfully onto his side to face House. "Did they hurt you?"

"Do you see any bruises?"

Wilson was skeptical. "Pull up your shirt."

House did as he was asked, knowing that what was done to him wouldn't leave visible marks. Once Wilson was satisfied, he fixed his shirt and they both rolled to their backs. "G'night, Greg."

Even though it was four in the afternoon, House replied quietly, "Goodnight, Jimmy." Thirty seconds later, Wilson was asleep. House was awake a little longer, guilt eating at him. He had promised Wilson a good time and some interesting stories. This was not what he had in mind! Finally, exhaustion won out, and he fell asleep with his hand resting on Wilson's arm.