AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks for reading (or attempting to :) ) my first House Fanfiction. I've always lurked in different areas of fanfiction but this is my first attempt to depict these characters in my own twisted world. I don't own these characters, the show blah blah blah... Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

She knew it was a bad idea even before she left her quiet apartment that evening. Allison rarely ventured into this part of town during the day, let alone after dark, but that nagging thought wasn't severe enough to stop her as she pulled her car away from the curb and headed into the black New Jersey night.

The windshield wipers swept furiously against the glass, trying unsuccessfully to keep it clear against the pounding rain of the November storm. Turning up the heater in her old model Honda Accord she rubbed her hands against steering wheel and waited for the comforting rush of warm air. She stifled a yawn as turned to radio up, hoping to clear the fog out of her tired brain.

This week had been particularly grueling at work. The team had had a young girl admitted into their care with severe respiratory failure and a high fever. She had died before they could find a cause of her illness and the loss impacted the team in more ways that they cared to admit.

Foreman had been his usual sympathetic self; taking the distraught mother under his wing and making sure she was taken care of. Chase had become obssesed with pissing Foreman off at every corner, constantly aggravating the neurologist with childish and useless banter that only Allison could see was used as a self-preserving defense to uncomfortable situations. House had retreated to his office to brood and wallow in the self-hatred he had created for himself.

And here was Dr. Allison Cameron, on a stormy Friday night, driving to the only convenience store she knew of that was open after 11pm to drown her sorrows in a pint of chocolate ice-cream and a bottle of red wine.

She slowed the car down to 25mph as she drove up Kosher Street and pulled up to the curb. The bright lights of the store blurred as she shut off the car, the windshield wipers finally shuddering to a stop as the rain created hundreds of tiny rivers cascading down the glass. She pulled the zipper of her coat all the way up to her chin and tightened the hood around her head. After taking her wallet out of her purse and shoving it into her pocket, she hid the bag under the passenger seat and took a deep breath She reluctantly thrust open the door and exited her now toasty car into the piercing rain.

Entering the small store, she shook the rain from her head and pulled back her hood. The man behind the counter eyed her appreciatively and Allison frowned at the unwanted attention. She quickly escaped his piercing look by half-sprinting down an aisle, disappearing between the rows of baby food and maxi pads. She made her way to the back of the store and sought out the frozen foods section, her growling stomach reminding her she hadn't eaten a thing since three o'clock that afternoon. She had been so engrossed in paperwork from their previous case that she was shocked to realize it was 10:15 before she left the hospital. She studied the broad assortment of ice-cream, seeking out her favorite Ben and Jerry's chocolate mix. Just as she located the tiny container of bliss and pulled it out of the freezer a loud crashed followed by what was undoubtedly three gunshots interrupted the general silence of the store.

Instinctively, Allison dropped to the floor and covered her head with trembling hands. She squeezed her eyes shut and her heart was pounding so loudly she thought it would jump right out of her chest. Her breathing increased and she forcefully tried to quiet it as she strained to hear what was going to happen next.

She heard the sound of approaching footsteps, loud and menacing on the cold cement floor of the store. She was too terrified to open her eyes and she tried to pull into herself and disappear as the footsteps stopped only a few feet away from her. Finally, the overwhelming need to process the situation forced her to open her eyes and glance up at the source of the footsteps, her eyes burning in panic. The barrel of a gun was pointed directly at her face, its owner a large, angry-looking man who had blood-splattered on his chin and the exposed area of flesh under his throat. His mouth contorted into a sickening snarl as he regarded the long-haired woman in front of him.

"Get up bitch!"

T.B.C...