Dollhouse MD, by GirlX2

Chapter Ten

Author's note: At this point four months have passed.

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Am I here for a day or forever?

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Wilson hurried down the walkway. He was late for an appointment with one of his pediatric patients, and as luck would have it, House had stolen the only working motorcycle (The other was in the shop after an unfortunate incident with House, an Evel Knievel style ramp, and the foyer fountain). Even though Wilson could no longer perform the physical aspects of a checkup, he still liked to be there whenever possible. They were still his patients, even if he couldn't do more than talk to them and look at their charts.

If he hadn't been so intent on getting back to his office he might have noticed the grim-looking man edging towards him.

Wilson barely had time to yell as he was plucked from the walkway and thrust into a bag. Darkness engulfed him. He ran his hands over the cloth walls, trying to find some point of weakness. There was nothing.

"Hey!" He shouted. "You can't do this!"

The bag was jerked violently upwards, sending him off his feet.

"Shut-up." A voice rumbled. "No one can hear you."

There had been no one else in the hallway to see him being abducted, but still, he couldn't just be picked up and carted off like this! Someone would notice the kidnapper talking to a bag. A security guard would stop him on the way out. Something had to happen.

Wilson could hardly believe it when the jerking gait became even more bumpy. It meant the kidnapper had left the smooth tiled floors of the hospital. He was in the parking lot.

'Shit.' If the man gotten this far, he wasn't going to be stopped. Hope of a last-minute intervention faded. He'd gotten away with the kidnapping.

Wilson felt a bone-jarring thud. The kidnapper had set the bag down. A moment later the massive vibrations of a car starting up rattled through him.

'I can't just let this happen.'

He felt around, trying to locate the drawstring. Maybe he could undo it. He found what felt like a pile of cables. With something of a start, Wilson realized that what he was feeling were the individual fibers of the string. He pulled at these and felt a few snap. Wilson started snapping as many of the strands as he could reach. Soon, the rope loosened. He squirmed though the narrow loop of cloth, not caring about what lay on the other side.

A dim shaft of light filtered into a door-less room. Wilson squinted in the darkness, trying to make out where he was. A massive sheet of paper lay at his feet. He inspected it.

"Car registration?" He groaned as realization dawned. "I'm in the glove box!"

No latch on this side of the compartment. He was trapped.

Now, with nothing else to do but wait, Wilson sat against the wall. The car jerked violently, making his teeth chatter. What did this guy want with him? Money was probably the motivation, but he didn't know anybody truly rich who would pay to get him back.

'It was probably because it's so easy to kidnap someone with Lilliputian syndrome.' Wilson realized. There had been other kidnappings reported in the news. Anything connected with Lilliputian syndrome was a media sensation. He and House had been interviewed countless times about what it was like from a medical standpoint since they were the only doctors who'd been effected.

'Maybe the security camera caught him in the act.' Hope stirred weakly in his chest. 'He could be being tracked right now.'

This thought, while not terribly realistic, was comforting to the tiny doctor. He couldn't count out being rescued, not so soon.

Almost the same moment the car's rumbling stopped, the glove box door flew open. The light blinded Wilson momentarily. He felt the sickening sensation of fingers closing around him.

"Got out of the bag, I see." The loud voice made him cringe.

"Let go of me!" He struggled against the grasp.

This was met with a derisive laugh. "Do you think you're going to get out of my hand?"

Wilson didn't reply, but continued to struggle. He knew it was hopeless, but he couldn't just be still.

The man got out of the car and hurried into a brick house. "Go ahead, fight if it makes you feel better. You're not going anywhere. Not yet at least."

Wilson shivered, not wanting to know what was meant by that. "Put me down!"

"Sure."

Wilson cried out as he was dropped onto a gigantic kitchen table. The fall hadn't been high enough to hurt him, luckily. He scrabbled backwards, trying to put distance between himself and the kidnapper. The man, a tan athletic-looking type, just watched him with mild curiosity.

"What do you want with me?" He kept his voice firm.

"Me? Nothing." The man shrugged. "My customers, on the other hand, have a whole slew of uses for individuals like yourself."

"Your customers?" Wilson repeated, bewildered.

"I guess you could call me a pet supplier." His eyes sparkled malevolently. "That's what most of my clientele want Lilliputians for. Some have devised more…intimate uses."

"W-what?" Wilson stammered.

"It could go either way with you. You're good-looking enough." He grinned unpleasantly.

A pet? This man had kidnapped him to sell him as a pet?

Or something worse.

"You can't do this." Wilson growled, knowing it wouldn't intimidate his giant captor in the slightest. It would just sound like so much squeaking to him. "People will be looking for me. The FBI is watching people with the syndrome like hawks. The hospital cameras caught you, you know."

The man smirked down at him. "That just drives up my price."

Wilson's heart sank. 'He knows what he's doing.'

"Well, I think it's high time I inspected my newest acquisition." The man scooped him up with one hand and started to tug off his lab coat with the other.

"Stop!"

"Take it easy, I'm not gonna strip you." The man rolled his eyes. "You guys always make this so much more difficult than it needs to be."

"You son of a bitch!" Wilson hollered, fighting to keep his coat on. The man turned him out of it after a few more moments of struggling.

"Let's see what we're working with here." He said, more to himself than to Wilson.

A cold shock ran through Wilson's body as the man ran one finger over him.

"Hmm. Little pudgy, but not too bad." The man inspected his coat, which bore a tiny nametag. "James Wilson. How old are you, James?"

"It's Dr. Wilson," Wilson growled through clenched teeth. "and I'm not telling you anything."

"Okay, two things: One, you may have been a doctor before you were shrunk, but not anymore." The man twisted his arm back.

"OW!"

"If you think your buyer is going to call you Dr. Wilson, think again. Two, when your Master asks you a question, you answer." The man released his arm. "Let's try it now. Repeat after me. 'Master, my age is such and such.'"

"Fuck you." Wilson said once he got his breath back.

The man narrowed his eyes. "I can see you're going to need some serious training before I can put you up for sale. Better cool you off first."

The man stood up and took him into the kitchen. He opened the freezer door. For one horrifying instant Wilson was sure he was going to be shut inside. Instead, the man grabbed a tall thin glass and placed Wilson in it.

'Damnit!' Wilson scrabbled at the smooth walls for a moment, but there was no way he could get out.

The man clicked something inside the freezer and a rain of hail descended on Wilson. He shrieked in pain, but the man wasn't about to let up. After a few seconds he was waist-deep in ice particles.

Moments later a jet of freezing water hit Wilson, bashing his head against the glass wall. Stars blazed in his vision before the cold snapped him back to reality. The water flow was shut off quickly, but it was already up to his neck. It felt congealed, making his movements slow and weighted.

"Care to answer me now?" The man smirked down at him.

"I'm thirty eight." Wilson could already feel his limbs going numb. "L-let me out!"

"Ah, ah." The man shook his head. "It's Master I'm thirty-eight."

"I'm n-not c-calling you m-m-m-" His teeth were chattering so badly that he couldn't even get the word out.

"You used to be a doctor. You know what happens with hypothermia." The man said. "Do you want to die?"

There was only one way he'd get out of this alive, Wilson realized.

"N-no. I d-d-don't want to d-die…Master." He spat the word out like a curse.

"Better." The man gently tipped the glass over, making the water pour into the sink. Wilson lay shivering on the smooth glass. Several ice partials still clung to him.

"If you don't want to die I suggest you climb into this." The man put a bowl of hot water next to him. The tap was still on, keeping a tiny waterfall of hot water pouring into the bowl. The cold had sapped most of his strength, but Wilson managed to make it out of the glass and over the side of the bowl. Spent, he sank down into the water.

"There's hope for you yet James." The pleased tone in his voice was absolutely terrifying.

Wilson's shivering now had little to do with the cold.

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To be continued...