"You wanted to see me?"

The polite, professional words were betrayed by the wicked smirk on House's face as he stepped into Cuddy's office. He knew exactly why she had called him here, and was prepared to take the consequences for his latest stunt; he had gotten what he wanted from it, after all.

"'Want' implies that I actually desire for you to be here," Cuddy pointed out with a weary sigh, rolling her eyes as she gestured with one hand for him to come nearer. "This is more like having absolutely no choice because you work for me and have once again done something utterly insane."

House shrugged carelessly, his smirk widening when her eyes narrowed at the gesture of defiant unconcern. "Tomato, to-mah-to."

"Have a seat."

Her voice had taken on a slightly dangerous edge, so House complied with another obligatory roll of his eyes, leaning his cane against her desk and glancing pointedly at his watch.

"Can we get on with it? I've got a patient to treat, a team to harass, thumbs to twiddle… all much more productive than listening to the lecture you're about to give me."

"I'm fully aware of that." Cuddy met his gaze calmly as he gave her a surprised look at her direct acceptance. "That's why this meeting actually has nothing to do with the coma patient you gave a migraine, and everything to do with something a lot less pointless and more important."

House's suspicions were aroused by those words, but he was still taken completely off guard by what she said next.

"I want you to know that anything we discuss right now will not leave this office without your consent," she assured him, her piercing gaze studying him with far more scrutiny than he was comfortable with. "But… I spoke with Stacy before she left, and she seemed to feel that there was reason to be concerned about… your relationship with Wilson."

House felt his heartbeat quicken and his mouth go dry with alarm, but he managed to mask his uneasiness with a cool façade of subtle mockery. "Aww. If it wasn't for the fact that your utterly inappropriate question has absolutely nothing to do with my job here, and is therefore not only none of your business, but also downright insulting to both of us – that might be kind of sweet. If it wasn't so creepy."

Cuddy didn't crack a smile or look away. "She was genuinely afraid for your safety. Is there a reason why she should be?"

"No." All traces of humor left House's voice as he answered with stony coldness, rising abruptly to his feet. "My relationship with Wilson is none of your business. We're done here."

Cuddy watched him go with troubled eyes, disturbed by his reaction. As difficult as it was for her to believe that Wilson was capable of such violence, she knew House well enough to know that if there was really nothing to Stacy's story, he would be responding with more mockery, but less genuine anger. However, she also knew that there was nothing she could do to help him if he refused to talk to her.

All she could do was to keep an eye out for him and hope for an opportunity to reach out to him again.

That opportunity was not long in coming.

******************************

Cameron made her way through the halls of the hospital at a hurried pace, her frustration and worry rising exponentially with each area that she checked and found no sign of her absent boss. Their patient was fading fast; they had to find an answer, immediately – and House was apparently missing in action.

He was complaining about his migraine… a hot shower might help…

Her instincts proved accurate when she walked into the shower room and saw House sitting on a bench in a room filled with steam. However, she only had a moment to enjoy the relief of solving the mystery before her thoughts were consumed with shock and dismay at the sight that met her eyes.

It seemed that the migraine was the least of House's problems.

It looked as if he'd been recently run over by a truck.

A towel covered him from the waist down, but every inch of exposed skin she could see was covered with dark, livid bruises and other marks. As she slowly drew nearer, Cameron noticed with alarm that the bruises were layered, in various stages of healing – evidence of more than one incident that had created the mottled patchwork of injuries that covered his body.

As she approached, House looked up at her with a distant, dreamy smile that told her he was clearly not in his right mind at the moment. Otherwise, she knew there was no way he would have let her get so close without making any attempt to cover his condition.

"House… are you okay?" she asked in a gentle voice as she crouched in front of him, studying his face with obvious concern.

"I'm… hallucinating," he explained, his voice slightly slurred.

"Right. Of course you are."

Cameron sighed, raising a hand to momentarily cover her face as she shook her head and tried to think. Her mind went back to the strange conversation she'd had with Cuddy that morning. The dean of medicine had called her into her office and explained to her that she had reason to think that House was in some kind of trouble, and had asked her to keep an eye out for anything strange or suspicious and report back to her. Cuddy had admitted that Cameron was the one member of the team that she knew would care enough to notice even the smallest of signs, and asked her not to say anything to anyone else.

But now… it's time to say something. Time to call Cuddy.

************************

"Thank you, Cameron. Give me a few minutes with him, please. Go back to his office and keep working on the diagnosis, but don't mention this to Chase or Foreman, okay?"

Cameron nodded silently, a troubled frown creasing her brow as she made her way back to the conference room with more questions and fewer answers than ever. Cuddy sympathized with her concern and frustration, but she couldn't let Cameron know about her suspicions, especially when they had yet to be proven – though Cameron's story made it sound as if all doubt was about to be removed.

"Hey," she murmured as she crouched in front of House, who had not moved from the bench where Cameron had left him. "You okay?"

She tried to hold his gaze as he nodded listlessly, his head falling back against the tile wall behind him; but his eyes were distant and glassy, and she couldn't keep her own from straying to the evidence of the terrible damage that had been done to him, clearly over an extended period of time. Cuddy felt sick to her stomach, utterly appalled by the layered bruises that covered his torso and arms. She held back a powerful wave of nausea as she clearly made out two matching hand shaped bruises on his shoulders, as if he'd been grabbed and shaken or slammed into something.

The similar set of bruises on his throat sent a shiver down her spine.

My God… he's lucky to be alive… She blinked back the stinging tears that rose to her eyes, swallowing back her own emotions as she tried to focus on what House needed from her right now. Stacy's right. Someone's certainly been abusing him, apparently for a long time now… and Wilson is the most likely suspect.

Her voice was gentle as she reached out a cautious hand to rest on his bare knee. It was only when he did not jump or pull away, just giving her a sleepy smile, that she remembered how skittish he'd actually been lately. House had never been one who liked to be touched – at least, not by anyone but Wilson – but he'd been especially nervous and jumpy lately, flinching at any unexpected sound or innocent touch.

Now… she knew why.

"House… hey…" She reached a hand up to touch his cheek, gently turning his face back toward hers. "What happened? Who hurt you?"

He just shook his head, a happy smile on his lips as he slurred out a response. "Doesn't hurt. Nothing hurts… so nothing happened."

"Something obviously happened," she argued softly with a dark, knowing look. "Somebody beat the crap out of you, House. More than once. Who was it?" Her fingertips brushed lightly across the mottled skin of his forearm as she added, "Who gave you these?"

"I can hear them," he informed her in a distant, delirious tone.

Cuddy frowned, confused and slightly impatient. "You can hear what? The bruises?"

"The colors," House clarified, staring down at his own arms. He seemed to be listening intently for a moment before he looked up at her, beaming smile on his lips, his eyes shining with a pitiful hope. "He loves me. The colors say… he loves me…"

Cuddy's heart lurched in her chest at those words, and the painful implications of them. Her mouth was dry, her eyes wide with stunned horror as she realized that Stacy's accusations were true. She shook her head slowly, studying his face as she ran a hand slowly back and forth along his arm. Her voice was hushed and trembling when she spoke.

"No. He doesn't, House. No one who loves you could do this to you."

******************************

An hour later, House was reasonably sober again, sitting sullenly in Cuddy's office. He felt sick to his stomach, trembling slightly as he tried his best not to allow his fear to show. He wanted nothing more than to simply walk out of her office and not return, to prove to her that she couldn't force him into this, couldn't make him do anything he didn't want to do – but the digital camera in her hand made that impossible.

She had him just where she wanted him.

She had Wilson, too – though he didn't know it yet.

House was not looking forward to the moment in which Wilson found out.

"This is really none of your business." He tried one more time to reason with her, his voice quiet and restrained to conceal his desperation. "I'm a grown up, Cuddy. I can take care of myself."

"Clearly," Cuddy flatly replied without looking up from whatever she was working on, on her desk.

"Just assuming for the sake of argument that you're right about what happened – which you're not – if the authorities can't force me to do this, what makes you think you have the right?" House persisted, his voice rising slightly with his angry frustration. "Cuddy… I can handle this. I don't want or need you getting in the way, trying to protect me!"

"You told me I was right, in the shower room," Cuddy argued. It wasn't precisely true, but House's cryptic words were close enough to an actual confession for her. "I know Wilson did this to you…"

"Right," House shot back with icy sarcasm. "Because anything said while under the influence of a powerful hallucinogenic must be the gospel truth. An hour ago, I thought the sky was pink… and I thought I could see the sky from the second floor shower room. You gonna take my word on those points, too?"

"If you can provide a witness and physical evidence for those points, sure," Cuddy countered, looking up at last, her gaze piercing and all too certain for House's liking. She raised the camera in her hand as she continued in a level, unyielding tone. "You're going to kick him out, or I'm going to take these pictures to the police, with the signed statement Stacy left me, and get Wilson arrested."

House had heard the threat before, a few minutes earlier, and remained sullenly silent – but he knew that he had no choice but to go along with her plan. He was resentful and angry with her for forcing him to leave Wilson, and worried about how Wilson would react when she confronted him with the pictures, and scared of how badly he would miss Wilson when he was gone.

And maybe, deep down… a little bit grateful for the escape route Cuddy was providing.

"Go home," she advised, her voice stern and commanding. "Get your locks changed, and pack up his things. I have an appointment to meet with him around four, so that gives you the rest of the afternoon. By the time I'm finished stating my case, though, he'll willingly walk away before he'll see his entire career destroyed by this." She paused, her expression softening as she added, "He deserves to see it destroyed – but I'm more concerned that you're safe than that he's punished."

***************************

Wilson was completely unaware of the events of the day, and therefore completely caught off guard when Cuddy stalked into her own office, where he was already waiting for her, and tossed a handful of pictures into his lap. He fumbled to catch them for a moment before going perfectly still, focusing on exactly what it was he was seeing.

His stomach lurched, and he his brow broke out in a cold sweat as he focused on the familiar images of House's bruised, battered form. He could barely speak, his voice choked and hoarse and hardly over a whisper.

"What… what the hell is this?"

"You tell me." Cuddy immediately corrected herself, holding up a halting hand as she sat down behind her desk. "No, don't. I already know. And just so you know, I have the negatives for those pictures in a safe place. And it's probably better if you say as little as possible right now. The hospital can't afford to have more than one member of upper management in jail."

"Wait… j-jail?" Wilson sputtered, shaking his head. "I don't know what this is about, but…"

"Yes, you do." Cuddy's tone was hard as steel, her eyes narrowed on him in cool scrutiny. "And provided you agree to my terms, jail won't be necessary." She paused, her eyes locked onto his as she continued. "You will move out of House's apartment and stop seeing him tonight. You will never… touch him again. And as difficult as it will be for me to work with you, knowing what I know – I won't terminate your employment here, reveal these pictures to anyone, or take any legal action against you."

"Dr. Cuddy…"

"This isn't up for discussion." She rose to her feet, her hands resting on the top of her desk as she leaned across it to face him more closely. "Those are the terms. I'll check in tomorrow morning to see if you've done as I've asked."

"But… you can't just…" Wilson sputtered in helpless frustration.

"You're dismissed, Dr. Wilson. Please leave my office."

With no other choice but to obey, unwilling to risk further angering her while he was in such a precarious position…Wilson did as he was told.