AN: Hey everyone, here is the next chapter, longer as promised! Hope this is OK, I had a bit of trouble with this chapter so let me know what you're thinking, or any tips or advice or anything. Thanks ever so much for reading, and for all the really nice comments :)

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They stepped out into the dark outside the hospital door. The cold of the night hit them instantly, reminding Wilson as he shivered that if House was out here and injured, he would be worse for the cold. The stars twinkled above, offensive on a night when a life hung in the balance. The life of his best friend.

Wilson strained his eyes until they hurt, hunting every spot for his friend. They'd split up in an effort to find him sooner, but all were within shouting distance. He dreaded finding him, not knowing what state he was likely to be in. Yet at the same time, he would have given his life to find him before it was too late.

Then he saw it. As if all his prayers had been answered, he saw the heap on the floor, dressed only in a T-shirt and shirt, which was much too cold on this wintry night. The hand was stretched out towards the bench that the figure had almost made it to. Oh House, thought Wilson, realising that his friend must have dragged himself outside in an effort to hide everything he was going through for one last time from his friends, determined not to bring them to any harm.

Running to him, Wilson yelled for help, starting as Cuddy appeared much too quickly at his side. Together they rolled the unresponsive body over, cringing at the amount of blood that had spread over the tarmac.

Cuddy gasped at what they saw. He was almost unrecognisable, his face a bloody mess. It seemed that blood was coming from all over his body, and his face was deathly pale. With shaking hands, Wilson leaned down and checked his pulse.

"It's very weak and thready, but he's alive," he whispered, thanking God for keeping him alive this long. We need to get him inside right now, or he's going to freeze."

As if by magic, a gurney appeared beside them. Wilson realised that Cuddy must have called for someone to fetch it when she heard Wilson call. Careful of House's various injuries, Wilson and Cuddy gently lifted him onto the gurney, tilting back his head so that he could breathe. Running off with the gurney towards the Accident and Emergency department, Cuddy left Wilson standing alone in the night air. He shivered, and not just from the cold. They might have found him, but House had a long way to go yet before he was out of the woods. Wilson sank to his knees, allowing the tears to run freely down his face unchecked. Why hadn't he told him? Why had he allowed things to get this bad? Confused and worried sick, he rubbed his arms to warm them, roughly wiping the tears from his face and headed back inside to see how he could help.

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Wilson and Cuddy sat in silence in the waiting room. They had left the care of House to the attending in the ER eventually, both needing treatment themselves. Foreman was currently sorting Wilson's head, while Chase was looking after Cuddy. Both were sat on edge, desperately waiting to hear some news on House's condition.

"I think you've broken this Cuddy, you need to go and get it x-rayed, and then I'll plaster if for you. I think you should stay in tonight, both of you, you're both in shock," he finished, looking from one tired but riveted face to another.

"And you need some stitches in this Wilson, I'll just do them for you. Are you sure you didn't get hit anywhere else?" asked Foreman, checking Wilson's eyes with his penlight.

"He caught my ribs a little, but not apart from that," replied Wilson, wincing away from the light.

Foreman lifted the dazed man's shirt, and checked the bruises forming over his ribs. "I think these are only bruised, but if the pain gets worse, I'll strap them for you. You definitely need to stay in, you've got a slight concussion there," he finished gently, rubbing the oncologist's arm.

"I'll be in anyway, I'm not leaving him," replied Wilson, looking Chase directly in the eyes. Cuddy nodded agreement from the right, causing Foreman to sigh and nod resignedly. He knew there was nothing he could do to change their minds.

"How's Cameron," asked Cuddy, looking from Foreman to Chase.

Chase sighed. "She broke her leg pretty badly. She's in surgery now having some pins put in. It'll be a long time before it's healed, if it ever heals properly again," he replied heavily, running his hands distractedly through his hair.

"Come on Dr. Cuddy, let's get you to x-ray while Chase stitches Dr. Wilson's head," said Foreman, butting in before Chase could say anything more. The last thing either doctor needed at the moment was extra concern about Cameron too.

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Wilson was sat in the waiting room, thinking how stressful it was for the relatives of an injured person. A white pad was taped over his forehead, covering his stitches. He looked down. Cuddy had just joined him, her arm held up in a sling. Fortunately it was not broken, just very badly sprained. Her other hand was entwined in his, her head leaned wearily on his shoulder. They were drawing strength from each other, just hoping that they would all get through this.

The door opened and a young doctor appeared, carefully shutting the door behind him, aware of the trauma these two people had been through. Cuddy sat up, instantly alert, tightening her grip on Wilson's had, whose lips had tightened in his pale face with determination.

"Dr Cuddy, Dr Wilson," began the doctor, looking at his hands as he sat opposite them. "I'm afraid it's not great news. As you know, Dr House has sustained a large amount of trauma to his head. We have done a CT scan, and as far as we can tell it is clear which is great news, but he can't breathe on his own at the moment, and he has done a lot of damage there, so we are going to have to monitor him carefully. Apart from that, his recovery time is going to be a long one." The young doctor sighed as he saw the tears start down their faces again. They had known it wasn't going to be good news.

"He's broken practically all of his ribs, and his left arm quite badly. We've pinned his arm and we'll strap his ribs in a while after some of the swelling has gone down. He has also done quite a bit of damage to his leg, which we noticed had already had a lot of trauma to it. That is a real problem at the moment, and we're worried about the blood flow to his foot. We may have to operate on it later if the problem doesn't sort out, and we might have to think about amputation."

Cuddy gasped, and gripped onto Wilson's arm. Wilson was past crying, well past, into the shock that comes after. The last thing House needed at the moment was to lose that leg.

"But let's cross that bridge when we come to it. We are doing all we can, and there is a chance that his leg may recover, we have put it in a splint which is aiming to reopen those blood vessels. What I wanted to talk to you about was his other injuries."

Wilson sadly raised his eyes, while Cuddy looked confused. The young doctor shook his head sadly.

"I think you had better come and take a look for yourself," he replied, leading the two doctors out, and helping Wilson to support Cuddy across the corridor.

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Whatever Wilson had been expecting to see when he entered the room, this was not it. House lay, surrounded by tubes and wires, his chest rising and falling evenly from the ventilator. Although he knew what every piece of equipment did, it still shocked him to see his friend hooked up to them, his face unrecognisable, looking so frail on the bed.

Leaning on Cuddy, the two crossed the room with the doctor, waiting to see what bombshell he could drop.

Pulling back the sheet, he watched a look of horror cross both doctor's faces. They knew what they were looking at.

"We are concerned about this. These bruises on his abdomen are old, and it seems that he has been beaten before on several occasions. This latest trauma has caused a lot of damage on top of this. He's stable for now, but we've had to remove his spleen, and stitch a lot of his organs, but we're hoping that they should be alright now," he sighed. This was not his last shock.

"The only thing we have left to tell you is this," he said gently, nodding to two of the nurses who came across to help him barrel roll House, taking care not to move his head around. Cuddy and Wilson gasped. Across his back were what seemed like hundreds of marks, cutting into his skin in different directions, some partially healed. There was virtually no skin left on his back at all.

"These marks have been made with whips or belts," started the young doctor, gently clasping Cuddy on the arm. "This is not a new thing, and it's not an accident. This man has been abused for a long time, and we're talking months here," he finished, rolling House back onto the bed, and gently covering him again with the sheet. Cuddy and Wilson just clung to each other, completely over taken by grief. They didn't even like to think about what House had been going through this past month, and now all they could do was hope that it was not too late, and that they could still help him, if he made it through the night.