She and Wilson didn't have time to think of the logistics of getting him over the embankment before they heard the squeal of tyres braking as a vehicle stopped on the road they had just come off…
They were far enough away from the car not to be seen; the early morning light was not enough for them to be easily seen, they took advantage of this by creeping away through the trees and up the bank. If they could just get somewhere relatively safe then they could call the Feds and let them know where they were; Cuddy didn't want to risk looking at the cell in case the gunmen saw the light and pinpointed their location.
House was defiantly getting annoyed with all the dragging that he was being subjected to in the past week or so, he reflected that maybe he should have ignored Wilson's cry for help that night when he was getting himself kidnapped; then he wouldn't be in this mess…literally. He stifled several groans as he was led up the bank by Wilson, who wasn't sure of the best way to get his friend to the top without hurting him further – he settled for dragging House by his good arm and allowing him to painfully limp up the bank, if they weren't in such a scary situation Wilson would have found it hard not to laugh!
Cuddy's feet were killing her by the time they reached the top of the embankment; she collapsed at the top, out of breath and thoroughly knackered. She watched Wilson scramble with House crawling painfully behind him up the steep bank – the thugs from the van couldn't see them due to the trees that made up that part of the bank; they were searching the area by the growing light and it wouldn't be long before they saw the various footprints and drag marks leading up to where they were hiding.
Cuddy watched, holding her breath, as two more vans pulled up behind the battered van – these ones weren't rusty heaps thought, they were black, shiny, new vans with blacked out windows, 'the Feds!' Cuddy thought, relieved. House and Wilson had only just managed to crouch next to her when one of the thugs shouted, signalling to the other that he had seen their pray – or at least found their tracks.
What the excited thug didn't notice though was that his colleague had already been taken down silently by two Federal Agents; he continued to scramble up the bank, eager to catch and take down the people who had been responsible for his nice pay packet to be cut off, by stopping Barker's little operation. He stood just metres from where the three were squatting, gun in his hand; Cuddy's heart was in her mouth, she could see both House and Wilson, doing their best to breathe quietly and lay still, further towards the gunman.
The Feds were taking their sweet time in taking down the second gunman; Wilson couldn't see how they were going to get out of this one as well as they had with Barker and his gunman – 'best wait for the Feds to do something' he decided. He hoped that House wasn't feeling in another heroic mood as he had been with Barker; besides, there were no chairs to crash over this gunman's head!
They didn't have to wait long – there was a warning shout from one agent and the gunman spun round in surprise; he didn't waste any time in performing his counter attack and used two shots before he was ploughed down by the Feds gunfire.
The gunman collapsed to the ground beside House and Wilson; he was still conscious though, and he seemed genuinely shocked when he saw his targets so close – he let out a small chuckle and grinned sadistically, pulling the gun that had failed to fall from his hands and aiming it at Wilson.
Wilson closed his eyes in anticipation for the shot, there was nothing else he could do; too far away to grab for the gun and too close to dodge bullets…or so he thought. He yelped as he felt himself be thrown over the bank; unable to stop the momentum with his arms he decided to just go with it until he was stopped by a tree. He checked himself over, no holes 'I didn't get shot' he thought, relief and delight in his smile…'but I heard a shot...' his smile faded in a split second, "House!" He heard another shot as he scrambled back up the bank using the last reserves of his adrenaline fuelled energy.
House couldn't help but grin at the confused look the gunman gave him when he had booted Wilson down the bank with his good leg; it wasn't what he had expected at all, when you shoot at someone they aren't supposed to disappear down a steep bank before the bullet reaches them! Before the gunman had a chance to realise what House had done the Feds were on top of him, pinning him down and forcing the gun out of his hand. The creep had been shot 4 times already and still had enough energy to give House one last sneer as he was forcibly pushed down the bank by the Feds.
"House!" Wilson cried as he made his way over to where House was sprawled on top of the bank, "Are you ok?"
"Just peachy, how are you?" House replied, causing Wilson to shake his head in annoyance at his off hand reply.
Before Wilson had a chance to get annoyed with House, Cuddy cut in with Agent Browne, who seemed pleased to see them but concerned too as he shone his flashlight over to where House and Wilson were positioned.
"Erm, do you need a hand getting down from here?" Browne asked cautiously; he had only spoken to House once before in the medical centre and had been on the end of a particularly foul mood due to the fact that House had been unsuccessfully trying to negotiate himself out of there for 3 hours before he'd met with him! The sight of the three Doctors, covered in mud and looking like they hadn't slept in days was enough to ensure Agent Browne was extra perceptive of their needs at this time.
"Judging by the state of Dr Wilson I'd say rolling down the bank isn't the best way to get down from here…" House looked at scowling Wilson which sort of proved his point, "Yeah I think I'm going to need a hand – or two." He said quietly.
They managed to get House sitting up with some effort, getting him on his feet was a struggle and he nearly keeled over the bank a few times, only to be saved by Wilson's hand on his left shoulder. It took a good few minutes with plenty of rest stops for Browne and Wilson to get House down the embankment and into the Feds' van; he cursed about his 'cripple' status for the whole descent and Wilson knew that it was his way of covering up how embarrassed he was to being literally carried down.
They were put into a van and joined by Agent Browne and his partner, Agent Jackson, who both agreed to accompany them to PPTH (Cuddy's choice of hospital – she just couldn't keep away from the place!) and take their statements.
It was while they were in the van that Wilson realised how rough all three of them must look; they were absolutely caked in mud that was starting to dry and flake everywhere in the van. He glanced a look at House's cast, noticing for the first time that it was cracked and he was bleeding all over it; he looked at House, who had his head leant back and his eyes closed, "What happened to your ankle?" he asked, the fear sticking in his words.
House opened one eye and made minimal effort to look down at his leg then back at Wilson "Flesh wound" he stated simply, closing his eyes and making out he was trying to rest.
"From what?" Wilson asked – even though he already knew…
"Bullet."
"From when you pushed me over the-"
"Yep" House cut him off, genuinely wanting him to shut up; his ankle hurt but he could see where the bullet had exited so clearly there couldn't be too much damage and Wilson already worried too much.
"So…you saved my life…again" House visibly flinched at Wilson's statement.
"Nah, I just wanted to see if it was possible to make it to the bottom without hitting a tree." House smirked as he looked Wilson in the eyes, seeing the Oncologist taking this in he then added "did you?"
"Did I what?"
"Hit any trees?"
"Only a small one." Wilson sighed.
"Good."
"Thanks."
"You're Welcome." House added sincerely; Wilson knew this wasn't all about the trees and so he left it at that, grateful that he understood House enough to tell when he wasn't just being glib – so little words and so much unspoken meaning, no wonder Wilson had a headache...no wait – that was concussion from head butting the car earlier!
Agent Browne turned to face his weary travel companions with a triumphant glint in his eye; he had just been tracing the calls from the gunmen's cell phone and he knew the Doctors would want to know exactly what he had just been told by headquarters.
"You'll be pleased to know that we've found out who set you up; the guy who was feeding them the information, Dr Cuddy's home address, all of your movements over the past few weeks – it was your good friend Detective Tritter…"