Foreman had arrived about twenty minutes after the others, he found the team sitting around waiting for House to come out of surgery.
"Sorry I'm late." Foreman said as he took a seat next to Taub, "how is he doing?"
"We don't know." Wilson said still staring at his shoes not finding anything better to do.
Foreman could just imagine House giving him his 'come on idiot, wasn't that obvious?' look, and at that precise moment he probably would have welcomed it. Anything was preferable to sitting there waiting whilst House was in surgery.
Since then, sharing the room with Cuddy was something akin to sharing the room with a caged tiger. The barely contained emotion bristled in the air, eliciting an irrational fear, an anticipation of something about to happen that grated on the nerves.
All of them had things that they could be doing. There was no end of patients that Wilson, Foreman, Masters, Taub and Chase could treat. Not to mention each one of them could begin doing some research in an effort to find out how and why this had happened to House, not to mention the other long list of things doctors could be doing in a hospital; and yet, not one of them could bring themselves to leave. Not until he was out of surgery, not until they knew that he would be all right.
The loud vibration of the phone echoed in the quiet waiting room causing everyone to look up. "Yes this is Dr. Cuddy," she said into her phone as she placed it to her ear. "Oh yes, you got something for me?"
Private investigator Charles Johnson was the best and hired by Cuddy and Wilson to help put the pieces of this mystery together.
"OK, so, I checked through House's car like you asked, and I'm working on the trace evidence, but I have to warn you there's a lot of it. For a start enough fingerprints to keep me busy for quite a while." Johnson began.
"So nothing to help explain what happened?" Cuddy asked disappointedly.
"Not so fast." Johnson said, "In addition to searching his car I managed to get access to a street camera recording. It showed House and some woman walking down the street at 3:30 yesterday afternoon."
"Any idea who she is?"
"No I can't tell from the image but I'm following up on it."
"Okay thank you, please call me if you find anything else."
Before Cuddy could explain her phone call a tall young surgeon entered the room.
"Dr. Wilson?" the surgeon queried, looking directly at him, knowing Wilson was the only medical proxy. The doctor waited for the slight nod of acknowledgement before continuing. "I'm Dr. Clarke, I've been operating on Dr. House I don't know whether to describe him as lucky or foolhardy. . ."
The opening was positive enough for Wilson to interject "Oh I think House fits both descriptions."
"Well, with the injuries he's sustained, I'm amazed that he was up and walking around. He must have been in considerable pain. One of the blows to his back had pushed a rib into his kidney, causing a small tear, all the moving around exacerbated the problem, but it also saved his life. If he hadn't managed to get himself to help, there's no doubt he would have bled out. We've managed to repair the tear and I'm hopeful that the kidney will recover."
"So there's a chance it might not?" Cuddy asked, for a brief moment exposing to Wilson and House's team the concern in her voice.
"We'll keep a careful watch on it, but we won't know for a while yet, his weakened condition means that he's at a greater risk of infection and the shock of the injury could cause it to shut down." He tilted his head slightly. "He can survive and lead a perfectly normal life with only one functioning kidney," he gave a small sigh, it was not an outcome he really wanted to consider, "but we'll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. At the moment, I'm more worried about his other injuries, he has severe bruising to his back, chest and abdomen, two ribs at the front are cracked and one at the back is broken, he also has a mild concussion from a blow to the side of his head, so we'll be watching him closely for the next few hours." He paused from his account, looking at each of the faces in turn. "What happened to him?"
The room went silent as everyone exchanged looks with each other.
Chase shrugged. "He collapsed before he could tell us anything." It wasn't quite a lie but close enough.
"So anything you can tell us about his injuries, we'd be grateful for." Masters said
Dr. Clarke thought for a moment, "Well, he's obviously received a severe beating at some point, and, if I had to guess, I'd say the injuries happened some time early this morning, say between midnight and four a.m. but beyond that… It wasn't exactly what I was concentrating on whilst I was in surgery," he paused, thoughtful again, "I do have to examine him again before I release him from recovery, I could take a look and let you know what I find."
"Dr. Clarke." Cuddy piped up softly, "any idea when we'll be able to see House, or when we can talk to him?"
Dr. Clarke shifted his attention back to Cuddy. "He's in recovery now, we should be moving him to a regular room in about half an hour but he's on some very strong meds at the moment, I don't think you'll get much sense out of him until this evening."
"That's assuming we ever get any sense out of him," Chase muttered half under his breath.
Only Wilson caught the comment and he allowed a small smile.
"I'm sorry?" Dr. Clarke asked.
Chase waved his hand dismissively, indicating that what he had said was unimportant. "OK, thank you doctor, we'll come back later."
Cuddy's expression turned more serious "Until we know what happened I'll be keeping a guard on House's door."
Dr. Clarke nodded his understanding, "I'll let you know if there's any change."
Wilson got up and gave the team a nod and like ducklings to their mother, House's team followed him. "Now what?" Foreman asked
Wilson briefly glanced across at him, still managing to keep up a quick pace. "House's place," he answered succinctly.
"We're going to search it?" Masters asked.
"No, we're going to feed his cat," Chase replied sarcastically. "Of course we're going to search it." He looked across at Masters again. "Do you have a problem with that?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
"Well, it's just..." Masters thought for a moment, "don't you think House will be upset when he wakes up to find that we've been through his apartment, his personal stuff?"
"Yes." Wilson said matter of factly
Masters waited for more, some elaboration, this wasn't some anonymous stranger they were investigating, it was House. "And it doesn't bother you?"
"Yes," he said again, as the team filed into the elevator.
"Yes?" Masters asked confused. "Yes, it does bother you, or yes, it doesn't."
Wilson exited the elevator pondering Masters question. This was his best friend, House's only friend and he was hiding something big from him. An audible sigh behind him made him stop mid-stride, he paused for a moment before letting out a sigh of his own and turning. "Yes it bothers me," he stated quietly "and not because he'll be upset, he'll get over it." The pause was longer this time. "It bothers me because it's House."
The admission made Masters ponder her view of searching homes and now that the team is going to ask her to invade House's privacy, when they know that she struggles with the ethics of searching through the personal belongings of even complete strangers... House would tell her that that was a weakness, but she knows sometimes one's weaknesses can be overcome if the situation is dire enough, she felt her stomach turn "So, who's driving?" Masters asked. House would be proud.
[H]
The entire team filed into House's small apartment hallway as they each individually searched for a spare key. Wilson cursed himself for not remembering to bring his own copy.
"Can I help you?" A small voice asked startling the group.
"Uh. We uh. We were just trying to see if our friend is okay." Wilson sputtered quickly
The woman gave a suspicious nod, "it takes five adults to check on a friend?"
Chase couldn't help but let out a small laugh, "we're doctors, we all work for Dr. House and he hasn't come into work today we are worried about him. That's all."
The woman, taking in Chase's appearance and nice accent gave a smile, "well I don't think he's home. Normally when he is you can hear some kind of noise."
"We know he's not here." Foreman said, "because he would have come out when we were knocking on the door." He quickly recovered.
"did you happen to see him around?" Taub asked
"Not since yesterday," The woman stated.
"So you didn't see him this morning?" Wilson interjected
"No," she paused making sure she was correct.
"Have you noticed anything unusual in the last couple of days?" Taub asked, "any unusual visitors?"
The woman shook her head, "No, everything's been normal except… Look what is this all about? Is House in some kind of trouble? I thought he just worked with you guys…"
"No, he's not in any trouble," Wilson stated, "just trying to figure out where he is. So you said everything was normal except…?"
"Yeah, he literally never left his apartment, food brought to the door, never saw him but then this woman arrives, normally I don't pay much attention to this but the second he saw her it was like he'd seen a ghost or something. I've never seen him react that way to anyone at the door before, and I've seen many people barge in and out of that apartment."
"I don't suppose you got a name?" Masters asked.
"I'm his neighbor not his secretary. All I saw was House open the door for this woman he looked shocked and they went inside, that's all I know."
Masters removed her notebook from her pocket. "Could you give us a description?" She asked
Chase smirked, of course Masters brought a pad and paper to a B&E.
"I don't know. Tall thin, black hair. Like I said, I was walking down the hall I didn't take time to study her."
"What time did she come over ?" Masters asked as she continued to scribble things in her notebook.
"I don't know. 2:30 maybe 3:00 yesterday afternoon." The woman shrugged
"And you didn't see him after that?" Masters confirmed.
The woman gave a look that could only mean 'duh' "no I didn't." She confirmed.
"Well thank you, you've been very helpful." Masters said making a note of the times before putting her notebook back in her pocket. Masters looked back at the team excited they got a bunch of information without having to break in, but the excitement didn't last long as she noticed Foreman beginning to pick the lock. She let out a sigh when he got the door open and the men went inside.
"Come on, Velma" Chase teased.
She took a deep breath and entered his apartment.
[H]
"Is it just me or does this strike you as weird? I mean going through House's stuff like this," Masters elaborated.
"Its weird." Chase said as he continued searching.
Taub opened House's laptop and began attempting different passwords. "I've tried Cuddy, Guest, Guitar, Piano... any suggestions on what his password is."
"Lupus." Chase, Foreman and Wilson all said at the same time not even bothering to look back at Taub
Taub gave a shrug and typed it in, "wow, I can't believe it worked, it's never Lupus!" Taub laughed in amazement as he began searching through House's files.
"I'll try the bedroom," Wilson said.
"You guys find anything?" Taub asked still scrolling through files.
"Apart from an appreciation of just how many sixties and seventies sitcoms have been released on DVD, not really," Masters replied only searching things she didn't have to touch. "Did you know House owns every single episode of 'I love Lucy' and the newly released 'Gilligan's island?'" She said.
"With him, nothing would surprise me," Wilson stated.
"Wait. You said not really?" Foreman questioned, his eyes drifting down to the books that she was looking at.
"Yeah, I mean this is his High School Yearbook, it was on the coffee table." She pointed it out so Foreman could read the name, 'Rhode Island Military Academy.' "And what looks like an album of photographs from when he was at Hopkins."
Foreman met her gaze. "Unusual things to have out…"
"Unless you were having a trip down memory lane with someone," Chase completed for him.
Foreman nodded, "I guess we found our first clue to the mystery woman."
"My guess would be some one he knew from school or college." Masters agreed.
"Ok, we'll take these in with us." He tapped the top of one of the books absently.
"Did you find anything?" Chase asked directing the question at Taub and Wilson.
"Just some bloodstained gauze in the bathroom." Wilson replied, suppressing the mental image that the comment conjured up. "House definitely came back here to clean up before coming in to work." Wilson said as he exited the bathroom and wandered towards the kitchen. His eyes had begun to scan again, this time coming to rest on the trash can. He strode purposefully across to it and pulled off the lid. He paused for a moment as he studied the items he somehow had known that he would find, and then he pulled the shirt out, holding it up for scrutiny. It was covered in dirt, only one button still clung tenaciously to an over lengthened thread, and there were several tears to the fabric. The collar on one side was stained red, and streaks ran down the back.
For a moment everyone just stared at it, a visual representation of the abuse their friend had suffered that was almost as powerful as viewing his bruised and battered torso. Masters swallowed down the bile in her throat, and silently unfolded a large bag from her pocket. Leave it to her to be prepared. She moved over to Wilson so that he could drop it in. The ritual was repeated with a pair of torn, dirty pants. The second shirt took them both by surprise. Wilson carefully lifted it up, this one wasn't as dirty, but there was no mistaking the horrendous amount of blood, splattered on his left shoulder.
[H]
House shifted on the bed and let out a slight gasp. The move made Cuddy look up from the paperwork she was completing. She was there because Wilson would want to know the second House woke up, no other reason. This was the lie Cuddy kept repeating to herself each time House moved. It wasn't the first sign of awareness that House had shown. At one point he had even opened his eyes and spoken, complimenting Cuddy on the 'good drugs' that she was giving him, but Cuddy hadn't even had the time to point out that she wasn't responsible for the contents of the IV, before House had drifted back to sleep again. Since then there had been the odd stirring, and each time Cuddy had looked up from her papers and watched for a few seconds before returning to whatever it was she was doing as House settled. This time was different, Cuddy straightened in the seat and began to put away her work.
Her more detailed examination of House once everyone left to go searching had alerted her to two things. First of all the beating that House had taken had been prolonged and methodical, escalating in violence as bruise rested on bruise. Secondly, that it must have been an extremely traumatic experience. It was that, coupled with guilt that prompted her to stay. Something told her that House should not be alone when the drugs finally released their hold, and he returned to awareness.
House shifted again and even the slight movement ignited pain receptors that even the morphine was not powerful enough to dull completely, especially now that its effects were wearing off. The pain triggered sense memories in his gradually returning consciousness and, trapped halfway between sleep and wakefulness, his reality came from memory alone.
…The blow landed in his abdomen, the pain streaking out in spikes of lightning, the way the tiny points spread within a cloud, dancing across earlier pains to ignite them again. He forced himself to breathe as muscles spasmed, blood thundered past his ears and he only caught half of the question, not that it mattered, it was a repeat of one they had already asked. One of only a few that his interrogator seemed to know, but he asked them again and again, each one accompanied by a blow, each one followed by mind numbing pain, round and round in a circle.
Maybe he should go with, "I can't tell them anything, I don't even know the answers to half their questions." But he did know some of the answers. And then there was the thought that was the most pitiful of all. "It's not even my own damn name. The name I'm giving them. It's not even mine," and in his head that last thought wasn't even screamed, it was more like a whimper.
The pain ignited again, this time higher up in his chest, and he knew that he couldn't take it any longer. His legs refused to support him, the powerful grip on his upper arms that had at first held him back, was now his only support, the only reason he was upright, and as his arms took his full weight, he felt them let go, his knees struck concrete, his hands barely getting forward in time to stop his face smacking into the ground. He felt his hair grabbed, his head yanked backward and there was another question. He couldn't help himself, he laughed, a full hearty laugh, despite the pain. He was down on the floor now, and still they were asking questions. That was funny wasn't it? The pain of the next blow stole his thoughts…
Cuddy grabbed House's shoulders firmly, doing her best to avoid the bruising. "House, can you hear me?" She searched the pained expression. "Come on House, you're safe in the hospital, I need you to wake up now." Her speech was more rapid, more urgent than normal, as she attempted to wake House from his nightmare. He was met with no response as House's agitation grew. It was clear each movement caused further pain. Cuddy raised her voice. "Can you hear me? You're safe. No one's hurting you, you're in the hospital. Gregory, can you hear me?" The unconscious use of his full first name indicated Cuddy's own rising panic as House continued to be unresponsive. Afraid that he was going to hurt himself, Cuddy resigned herself to pressing the call button to summon help, knowing that House would be sent into more hours of drug induced sleep only to repeat this ritual when those wore off, but she had little choice.
Then House laughed.
"House?" Cuddy questioned, as the fight left House and he sagged back on to the pillows, only to tense again almost immediately, as if in response to a sharp spasm of pain. "House!" Cuddy exclaimed, searching for the call button once more. She was just about to press it when blue eyes blinked open and met hers "Cuddy?"
The weak whisper, stopped her finger mid- action."Welcome back," Cuddy replied gently.
[H]
Cuddy raised her palm to Wilson's chest preventing him from stepping inside House's room briefly. "You need to go easy on him, he's still very weak." Cuddy stated.
Wilson studied his friend for a moment. "So tell me," he tilted his head slightly to one side, "why I wouldn't go easy on him?"
Cuddy tilted her head back. There was the slightest hint of a hum before she spoke, an affectation that she had had for as long as she could remember. "He claims that he cannot remember any of the events that led to his injuries."
Wilson's eyes narrowed, a flood of irrational anger washed through his system and he swore silently, 'Dammit what was House playing at? Surely he didn't think they were going to let the people who had done this to him get away with it? What was he covering? What couldn't he tell them?' The emotion crackled off the walls of the corridor as every muscle tensed, and he knew that Cuddy had been right to tell him this out here. The anger he felt, the anger that should be directed at those responsible for the viscous beating, would otherwise have only one focus, House.
Cuddy broke eye contact drawing in a breath, her brow creased in thought, "I believe he's protecting someone." She met Wilson's gaze again, "Someone he cares for deeply."
Wilson clenched his fists, channelling some of the tension through them; he forced his breath out slowly. "I know," he said, his tone controlled, and deep down he did know, it was the only explanation that made any sense. "But that doesn't mean that we need to protect them too." He stepped around Cuddy intent on entering the hospital room.
Her hand on his arm stopped him mid stride. "Wilson."
"I'll go as easy as I can," he promised, it was the best that he could do.
Cuddy nodded and let go.
[H]
Wilson entered the room quietly. House's eyes were closed. He drew in deep breaths, forcing a calmness that he did not feel. The guard on the door had quite rightly insisted that Wilson show his ID before entering the room and that had given him a few moments more to compose himself. It hadn't been enough.
Too much of House's chest was showing above the stark white sheets. The deep purple and black bruising too vivid to ignore, and for a moment it drew Wilson's gaze; once again he felt the revulsion that he had when he'd seen it earlier, in the few hours he'd had to get used to it, the emotion hadn't mellowed. He forced his eyes to scan upwards, forced his thoughts away from a technical assessment of the blows necessary to cause that amount of damage, as his gaze came to rest on House's face. Damn he looked so vulnerable.
Wilson wasn't sure why he felt so protective of his friends, especially House. Maybe it was fatherly instincts, House could certainly behave like a child at times, or at least inspired the protective instincts of an older sibling depending on what mood he was in. Maybe it was House's inherent vulnerability, a level of insecurity that was so masked that most missed it. Whatever it was, Wilson felt that House was his responsibility, and seeing him wounded like this cut to the core. He took a couple of steps into the room.
House sensed rather than heard another presence and forced reluctant eyes to open. Part of him was really pleased; Wilson being there gave him a sense of security, a sense of peace, that he hadn't felt for days now. With Wilson around he felt safe. He tried hard to ignore the fact that Wilson would have questions, that the peace wouldn't last for long, that he would be forced into actions he had never dreamed possible, but the nagging rationality of his conscience wouldn't let him. He half forced a smile. "Hey Jimmy," he said weakly, trying to adjust his position. The pain of even the slight movement took his breath, and it was difficult to force his eyes to remain open, to control the tension in his facial muscles.
"House," Wilson acknowledged, ignoring the signs of pain that registered on House's face. He knew that House wouldn't want him to see what he would regard as a sign of weakness, so he pretended he hadn't. He perched on the edge of the seat by the bed. "So why don't you tell me what happened. he asked.
House knew the question was coming. He'd had time to consider his answer, when the pain had abated enough to let him think, and the drugs had allowed some rationality through, but he hadn't made use of that time. Instead he'd pretended that the question would never come, that maybe if he ignored it, it really would go away, but it was a pretence. "I don't know," he tried, "I don't remember." It was a line that even Cuddy hadn't bought, and here he was feeding it to Wilson.
Wilson's eyes narrowed. "Is there something misfiring in your brain that makes you believe I'm naïve enough to buy that?" He paused locking his gaze with House. "Because if there is then..." He paused again, longer this time, his head tilted as it often did before a question. "What happened? Who did this?" he asked softly.
House gave a slight shake of his head and swallowed. He could feel tears beginning to well in his eyes and he held them back. "I. . ." he began hesitantly, there was so much of him that wanted to open up, this was his friend, the man he respected beyond all others. Telling him the truth, sharing the burden would be so liberating, but he knew that he couldn't. "I… er…I…" He looked away, unable to meet Wilson's gaze any longer. "It's personal."
Wilson stood, trying hard to control his anger, his frustration. "No. House, it stopped being personal when somebody took an iron pipe to your kidneys."
Damn, how did he know about that?
He leaned in resting his hands on the side of the bed. "It stopped being personal when somebody beat you to the point where you could barely stand."
House could feel Wilson's presence but refused to turn and meet his gaze.
Wilson leaned in a little further, "And it was way beyond personal when Chase and I had to carry your ass to the ED to save your life."
That comment forced House to turn and look, his eyes searching Wilson's face for the voracity of the statement.
"You almost died." Wilson reinforced.
House swallowed again; the tears were getting harder to hold back as he considered what had almost happened.
"So I'll ask you again. What happened? Who did this?"
And there it was, House had never felt more trapped in his entire life. Whatever he did from this point, someone would suffer, if he made the wrong choices people could die. He was truly caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place. If he didn't open up then he would lose the respect of the only person who House felt had his back in the entire hospital. On the other hand, if he opened up, told Wilson everything then well, House didn't want to think about those consequences.
In the end it was a simple decision to make, there was only one person whose career, whose life he had the right to sacrifice. He held Wilson's gaze, searching for understanding. "I'm sorry," he said, looking for and finding the fleeting hint of betrayal, of lost trust, of anger, before he couldn't stand it any longer. His eyes swept down to the covers, defocusing as he concentrated every ounce of self-control towards stopping the tears that burned on the edge of his vision. "I don't remember," the statement was barely above a whisper.
Wilson clenched his fists and without a word turned and swept out of the room.