Hey all! I am so happy everyone is enjoying this, reviews and likes honestly make my day! In response to one comment, I promise this is a Huddy story so fear not, it just may take a few chapters to get there but have patience and fear not. I hope everyone enjoys the new update

[H]

Cuddy was nervously pacing outside the hospital room, debating whether she should go inside and show House the sonogram. Maybe it would be good for them, give House the opportunity to be there for her and prove to her that he is a reliable partner. After a few minutes of twirling her thumbs she took a deep breath and entered the room, she half expected the bed to be empty but still she was horrified he was gone…

Wilson came to a screeching halt when he neared House's room. He came there with a purpose, to ask House about Lydia and figure out what is happening with his best friend. He paused when he saw Cuddy standing there, his eyes drifting unconsciously to the bed; the dangling lines and tubes that should still be attached to House, the folded back covers under which his friend should have been lying, safe, protected. He caught himself before his mind spiraled off into the myriad of questions and possible answers that he had fought to keep in some semblance of order on the journey here. Well, it wasn't the questions and possible answers that were so much the problem, it was keeping a tack on the feelings that were attached. Wilson was a man who was driven by emotion. It was what gave him his edge, what made him a good doctor. He felt for the patients in his care. His outrage at injustice and desire to protect the innocent, drove him with a righteous zeal to heal those in need. Any of these emotions that he expressed on a normal case were multiplied to the point of obsession when one of his own was threatened. Only this was worse, at the moment his emotions didn't have a real focus and reigning them in was already difficult. Still, it was important that he do so, important that he concentrated on the task at hand. He swallowed everything back.

"Well, there were no apparent signs of a struggle. So, either House was asleep or unconscious when they took him or..." He paused momentarily; it was long enough for Cuddy to jump in.

"You're a detective now? She asked, standing refusing to remove her eyes from the bed.

"He went voluntarily." Wilson stated quietly from his position by the door.

"The missing guard is our biggest clue so far." Cuddy stated.

Wilson looked behind him, of course there wasn't a guard there how could he be so oblivious? "What happened to him?" Wilson asked.

"He was pulled off at seven thirty-four this evening." Cuddy stated. "According to his report, House was no longer in danger."

"And where did those orders come from?" Wilson asked, already having a feeling that he knew the answer.

"Why from me of course." Cuddy said as she rolled her eyes and shook her head at the thought of the typical House antics.

Wilson's phone rang and he jumped slightly at the sound of it before answering, he knew Johnson was good, but it had been maybe 10 minutes since he got off the phone with him. "Yes?"

"Wilson." Johnson began. His tone was a serious calm, that wasn't a good sign. "Lydia Kane's name came up when I searched her..." he paused trying to give the news delicately, "apparently a man named Sargent Adams has a case opened against Lydia Kane for the murder of her husband, Lawrence Kane."

[H]

House awoke, whether it was the cold or the irritation of the splashing, he couldn't be sure. He moved his arm, tried to bat away the source of irritation; the movement was jerky. Pain sliced through his ribs and he gasped for a breath, as he crashed back to consciousness, and rode it out. His eyes blinked slowly open; lazily scanning for something that he could give form to; focusing was slow, orienting himself in the unfamiliar surroundings took time. The voice penetrated, his brain finally decoding the disjointed sounds. "House, thank God you're awake. I didn't know what to do I..."

He tried to move, tried to sit up to get a better look at the person who was speaking. She was a blur of black.

"No!" the voice was sharp, as she turned back to face him, and he realized that the black had been her hair. Soft hands restrained him. "Don't try to move, I don't want you to pass out on me again. Please just lie still."

Her features formed in the dim light and he relaxed back onto the pillows of the bed. "Sorry," he whispered softly, gingerly forcing the air from his lungs. He cleared his throat and tried again, a little louder. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

"Shhh," two fingers rested on his lips, "No talking, I've been scared enough for one day." She stared at him for a moment. "You should have stayed in the hospital. You could have told me where the package was and I could..."

It was House's turn to interrupt. "No, it's too dangerous, I can't let you take the risk."

"House, look at you. This is my mess and look what they did to you. I'm the one who should be lying there, not you. Just tell me where the package is and I'll handle it from here. I'll take you back to the hospital and you can forget all about me again. It'll be as if this had never happened."

House shook his head. Refrained from pointing out that he couldn't forget all about her again, he had never forgotten her in the first place. "You know I can't do that, aside from anything else, Wilson and Cuddy are involved now and they will investigate this to it's core. I can't leave you alone in the middle of all this. I promised that I'd help you and I will."

Damn why was he so determined to do right by her? Lydia almost screamed her frustration, she had to turn away to avoid her expression giving her away. "I'll get you some water," she said by way of explanation, picking up the glass hurriedly, and hoping that he wouldn't notice that it was half full. She'd used only half of it, splashing his face in her impatience to get him to wake up. She'd already been waiting hours for his return. He'd refused to tell her anything until he was safely out of the hospital, and then he'd passed out before she got a chance to talk to him. It was fortunate that he had so many bruises, that he would have no way of noticing the extra one her kick of frustration had added to the collection when he went down. Part of her wanted to turn back and have a go at beating the information out of him, although his current injuries testified to how unlikely that was to work. She repressed the urge. No, she would have to keep on playing the game for just a little bit longer. She stifled the sigh of frustration as she headed for the bathroom. It was tedious keeping up this act, pretending to be whimpering and helpless, but she had needed him. She still needed him. She swore softly at the thought, and looked up into the mirror as she rinsed and filled the glass. A wicked thought shot through her mind, and she watched her reflection break into a smile as she considered what she would do when she got her hands on the package. He had already cost her valuable time; she should have had it by now, and for that he would pay. Why were all men so incompetent? The biggest score of her life. First her husband and now Gregory House had taken their role in screwing it up. She hoped he had a good explanation; all he had assured her of so far was that the package was safe and that only he knew where it was, and so help her if he didn't get it for her soon... She plastered on her best look of concern and headed back to the bed.

"Here," she said, helping to lift his head so that he could take a drink. "This should help, and then you can tell me exactly what happened."

[H]

Cuddy, Wilson and House's team were all in Wilson's condo with takeout food and papers scattered around, they looked insane, if someone walked in on the scene they would assume that they were House's stalkers.

"Are we even getting paid for this?" A tired Chase asked, his bed head extra apparent from him resting his head in his hands throughout the late night.

Wilson shot him a glare, "we are volunteering to help our friend."

"We're being volun-told to help your friend maybe." Taub muttered, hiding a comment with his yawn.

"I think it's fun!" Masters said excitedly, the entire group looked at her questioningly. She gauged the room, "I just... it's fun we aren't just doctors we are like detectives right now is all I meant."

"Speaking of detectives, what did the private investigator find out about Lydia? Any new leads?" Foreman asked

Cuddy shook her head, "nothing yet. I'll call him in the morning."

As if on cue, Cuddy's phone rang. She quickly answered and placed Johnson on speaker.

"Dr. Cuddy I sent you and Dr. Wilson an email with new video footage!" Johnson explained, eager to report his findings.

Wilson began hitting the keys on his laptop attempting to pull up the email as fast as he could.

"So, it took quite a bit of time but I was able to finally get approved to access more street camera footage and uncovered more of House's activities the night he was attacked. I could see House entering and leaving his apartment on three separate occasions." Johnson paused momentarily before correcting himself. "That is, he left three times and he returned three times, if you don't include when he set out for work Monday morning, which would technically make it four, but he didn't return on that occasion so..."

"Johnson!" Wilson stated eager to get him back on track.

"Right, sorry. The first time he left was Saturday at 11:05 a.m."

The screen flickered slightly and then House and Lydia entered the shot, moving to his car. "Then they returned just before..." Johnson continued to provide a running commentary to the actions on the screen.

The screen flickered slightly again, and the timecode in the bottom corner flipped forward just under two hours. House's car drove back into the spot they had just watched it vacate and there were a few moments of stillness before he climbed out. It was obvious when he did that there was something wrong with the way he was moving; his actions were stiff and jerky. Lydia jumped from her seat and ran around to his door clearly offering help but he waved her off. He stood with some effort; one arm moving protectively across his chest, the other gripping his cane tight before he headed out of camera shot, Lydia following nervously behind.

"So," Foreman stated as he eyed the screen, "Okay, so we know that something happened somewhere between eleven and one on Saturday but we don't know by who and we don't know the why."

"Or the where." Masters interjected.

Taub turned his best glare on her.

"I'm just saying that if we knew where this incident had happened it would give us a better indication of the why."

Taub's head tipped to one side slightly. "Probably," he turned his head back to the phone addressing Johnson. "What else you got?"

"He returns to his car at 2:57 p.m." The screen showed the lights on the car flash first before House entered the shot as he operated the remote central locking. He opened the door and dropped what appears to be a bullet proof vest in the car before returning back inside his apartment.

"What did he just put in the car?" Cuddy asked scooching closer to the screen trying to get a better view.

"It's a bullet proof vest, after finding this footage I looked through his car again… he hid it really well. The vest had a bullet hole in it and I believe the reason House was holding his chest in the previous video was because he was shot. Luckily, he had it on so it just left a nasty bruise."

"He was shot?!" Cuddy yelled, louder than she intended.

"Shouldn't surprise you, he's been shot before." Chase said casually, honestly half expecting any situation at this point.

Cuddy glared at him, "if he wasn't wearing that vest he would have died." Cuddy stated coldly, trying to hide her anger at Chase for not caring that House was shot.

"Why do you care? I thought you hated him and broke up with him." Taub said, but immediately bit his tongue not meaning to say that out loud.

Wilson quickly interjected trying to diffuse the situation, "hey, we are all sleep deprived and snippy. All that matters is House was wearing the vest when he was shot and he is okay. He didn't die and with this evidence we will find him." Wilson's even tone helped sooth the air of the strong emotions, he was always amazing at keeping everyone calm in stressful situations.

After a brief pause to let the tension settle, Johnson continued. "Then he leaves. This time he's alone and away for much longer. He doesn't return until 8:23 p.m."

Again, the timecode on the screen jumped forward and House's car rolled back into its space. This time when House exited the vehicle he was moving like his normal self although there was some residual stiffness.

"This is all very interesting, but if we don't know where he went when he left how is any of this helping?" Cuddy asked tersely. It wasn't that she didn't understand the value of a timeline for events, she was just at a loss to see why what she was being shown had made Johnson so excited, and the call was certainly more than just a 'calling for a routine report.'

"There's no activity then," Johnson continued. "Until 11:00 a.m. the next day, but House stops using his own car." The image jumped again this time to an entirely different camera shot, a different part of the parking structure by his apartment. House was standing waiting as a brown sedan pulled up in front of him. He exchanged pleasantries with the young man who exited the vehicle and took the keys from him in exchange for his signature, and, from the young man's reaction, what looked like a fairly sizeable tip.

"The car's a rental," Johnson explained, "The young man is called Peter Coyle; he works for a rental car company, he was paid to deliver the car to House's apartment building for an indefinite hire period, but the interesting thing is who Peter thought he delivered the car to..." He paused expectantly, waiting for the question, it was his big moment after sifting through hours of mind numbingly boring footage, and he wanted to relish the revelation slightly. Not that he could contain his excitement "You'll never guess." he added.

Wilson had had too little sleep and was dealing with a steady spiral of emotion that churned from frustration to fear to anger to concern and back to frustration again; a never-ending loop that belied his normal ability to suppress. As such he tended to dwell on the anger but it meant that he was even more snappy than usual. He was certainly in no mood for playing the game. He pinched his nose just between the eyes and let out a short sigh. "You're right Johnson we will never guess." He stated dropping his hand and turning his scowl towards the phone. "Because you are going to tell us... now."

"Of course, the erm... the er car was rented in the name of Lawrence Kane, paid for with Kane's credit card. House even showed a driver's license in the name of Lawrence Kane to Coyle when he dropped the car off."

The scowl dropped instantly from Wilson's face and he turned back to face the screen. "Wait, House had a fake ID?"

Johnson nodded, not that anyone was able to see that. "Correct. In the name of a man who had already been dead for more than two days."

"But if we're right then House didn't get involved in any of this until Friday evening when Lydia came to see him." Masters stated.

Cuddy shifted her weight forward in the chair. "That's right, which means House obtained the fake ID sometime on Saturday."

Chase turned to her. "Didn't take House for a kind of guy to do that."

"Anything else?" Taub asked blown away at how this situation quickly began spiraling out of control.

"I haven't had a chance to study the footage properly yet, but my guess would be that he didn't just fake a driver's license." Johnson said

"Passport?" Foreman asked.

"That'd be my guess and it is much harder to do unless you have the original to work from, but not impossible. Depends on who's going to be looking at it. I mean if you're showing it to immigration it has to be flawless, but if you just want to get a marriage license or join a library..."

"Which begs the question..." Masters interrupted. "Why would House need fake IDs in Lawrence Kane's name?"

Wilson shrugged. "I don't know but it would explain why Lydia came to House. Maybe she knew House was the kind of guy who wouldn't mind being able to pretend he was her husband."

After a moment's pause, Johnson continued and directed the group's attention back to the screen. "This is House returning to the building at 4:30 a.m. Monday morning."

Again, the camera had switched to a different area of the parking garage. The car pulled to a somewhat jerky stop at a slight angle across two of the bays. This time there was a long pause before there was any movement. It was just possible to see House's head resting forward against the steering wheel in the dim lighting.

"Shit," the exclamation fell from Cuddy's lips as she saw House climb from the car.

Masters let out an audible breath, and forcibly held back the tears that suddenly appeared in her eyes as she watched the battered form on the screen. He could barely stand, having to use the door and the body of the car to push himself upright. His shirt, the one that Wilson had found in the trash, looked somehow more tattered as it hung limply over his shoulders. He shivered against the cool of the night and attempted to draw the remains together at the front where the buttons had been ripped off. It was a futile and, in a literal sense, strangely pathetic gesture as the two sides fell apart when he moved his hand away. He stood for a few moments swaying slightly with his eyes closed, clearly concentrating on holding his balance as his hands supported him against the roof and the top of the door. Eventually he took a step back, closing the door first and then relinquishing his grip on the roof. He waited a moment swallowing hard as he turned, the streaks of blood that ran from his matted hair down one side of his face now clear to see. He took a tumbling step forward and began to move off, but it was closer to a series of controlled falls than it was to walking. With no audience that he knew of to hide it from, House allowed the agony of every step to show in his expression. The group of people in Wilson's kitchen became unwitting voyeurs to his pain until he was finally clear of the cameras. Cuddy bit her lip, keeping a tight lid on the emotions the silent footage had evoked. Watching House walk without his cane even on a good pain day could be difficult but watching this was unbearable.

The image on the screen could have been a still if it wasn't for the numbers on the automated timecode continuing to run in the bottom corner. All that was left was the view of the car, casting strange shadows from the angled lighting. The experience of watching House suffering as a group had a mesmerizing effect on all of them, even for Johnson who had watched it before. Somehow as a communal experience it cut much deeper, the shared emotion feeding itself and forming in the air around them. It took them all a reflective moment to recover their senses. Even Foreman was not immune, no matter how much he pretended to be. The emotional spiral churned round again and this time he grasped the anger as it went by. Why was Johnson showing them this? They had all known how badly House was hurt. The inability to remain conscious, the whole not standing, the waiting for him to come out of surgery, all of that had been a big enough clue. There was no need to rub their faces in it. They didn't need to see this.

"Johnson," Wilson stated, the tension clear in the set of his jaw. "I sincerely hope there's a point to us watching this, or do you think we're all sadists that we want to stand here and watch House suffer, because I can arrange another demonstration of suffering if that's what you think."

"No, of course not." Johnson stated quickly, "The reason we're watching it is still on the screen."

Wilson turned his attention back to the laptop and uttered a soft curse. "The car," he stated, annoyed with himself for missing it, but then all of his attention had been on House.

Everyone stared at the vehicle. "It's a different car," Masters stated as her mind caught up rapidly with the implications.

"I've already got an APB out on the rental car and I'm heading to House's apartment building to impound that one if it's still there."

Wilson stared at the screen a moment longer. It wasn't much but it was a break that might provide them with some much-needed answers.

[H]

House accepted the water gratefully, although even the small effort of raising his head to drink it seemed to sap the limited reserves of energy he had. He fell the short distance back to the pillow. "So how long do we have left?" He asked quietly, ignoring for the moment Lydia's own request for information.

Lydia's brow creased in confusion "Left?"

House drew in a shallow breath; it was the most he could manage. He looked down, acutely aware that his own efforts, all that he'd endured, could ultimately prove fruitless. Not that he'd had much choice in the actions that he'd taken, but time had always been against them, he'd known that. He'd just been avoiding the question, because if he was too late, he didn't really want to know the answer. He couldn't avoid it any longer though. He looked up into Lydia's eyes again. "To save him, how long did they give us?"

Lydia's mind worked quickly, it had to, to cover the mistake she almost made. In all the delay and frustration of the last few days she had almost forgotten the lie that she had used to get House to help her in the first place. She had known from the moment she saw him in the doorway of his apartment that he would help her. The way he stared at her told her all she needed to know, but still she had played him, following him back to his apartment, almost leaving so he was forced to ask her to stay, and the tears, they had been a master stroke, but then she'd always been able to cry on demand. Ever since she was little, it had always worked on her father, had gotten her exactly what she wanted, and on every man since, but especially on House. He'd have done anything she wanted once, probably still would.

The lie she had told was probably unnecessarily complicated, she could possibly have gotten away with just asking him to do what she wanted and ask no questions, but she couldn't risk him saying no, so she had gone with her original plan. She had broken away from the embrace and moved to sit on the couch, seemingly reluctant to look him in the eye. It had been truly a performance worthy of an Oscar. She had recanted the sorry tale of how her husband had fallen on hard times and had looked for an easy way out of his financial problems; if they couldn't get the money, they wouldn't be able to afford Annie's rehabilitation center fees. Her husband had arranged for an item, she claimed not to know what it was, to be smuggled into the country and delivered to him. He had told her that selling this item on would solve all of their money worries. They would be more than free from debt; they would have money to buy the things they wanted, and most importantly, they would have enough money to make sure Annie could get the help she needed. That was when everything had gone wrong.

"They took him," she said, barely containing the tears again. As she once more forced House to pry the information out of her. It made the lie that much more convincing.

"They?" House asked.

"I don't know who they are. They thought the item had already been delivered. When Lawrence didn't have it, they sent a message to me, saying they'll kill him if I don't get the package and hand it over."

House let out a breath and made an attempt to stand as he dug his hand into his front pocket. "I'll call the cops."

"No!" the exclamation was sharp. "Please, they said they'd kill him if I went to the authorities."

House sat down again taking her hand in his, trying to be as gentle as possible with his next statement. "What do you want me to do about it? I'm a crippled doctor not a cop. Besides, they'll probably kill him anyway, whether you hand the package over or not. That's why we need to get the police involved. You listened to my advice before..."

"No," Lydia stated again. "You don't understand, whatever is in that package it's worth a fortune, and the police can't be trusted. Lawrence told me that two cops have been hassling him..."

"But wasn't he doing something illegal?"

"That's just it, they didn't want to arrest him, they wanted to get their hands on the package for themselves." She choked back a sob, "they've already been to see me; they threatened me too, said if I knew what was good for me, I'd make sure that Lawrence gave them the package. They said... they said that I wouldn't live to regret it if I didn't" She met and held House's gaze. "That's how I ended up here. I knew that you probably never wanted to see me again, but I don't have anyone else I can turn to. I don't know anyone else I can trust. Please, you have to help me. You have to help Lawrence or I'm sure they'll kill him." She dissolved into sobs at this point, and once again House took her into his arms. She counted slowly in her head to thirty allowing the tears to flow before finally pushing back and blinking tear-filled eyes. "I need your help to get the package and deliver it, without getting anyone else involved." She paused for a beat. "If you can't do it I'll understand, I'll find another way, I'll leave..." she left the rest of the sentence hanging.

House considered it, rapidly piecing together the various courses of action open to him, and their consequences, but ultimately, he knew he didn't have a choice. Cuddy left him, he wasn't on speaking terms with Stacy, so he was alone, back on drugs and his depression rapidly developing into something uncontrollable, Lydia came back to him. Lydia needed him, if House believed in signs, this would be it, a sign to get clean, a sign that his breakup would be okay. All he's been is a shadow of his former self and his break up with Cuddy destroyed the little happiness he had left, he honestly didn't know what else to do, he needed to feel needed. If Wilson and Cuddy ever found out what he was about to do then he was a dead man, not to mention the fact that he could well be without a career. Still he had the whole weekend left of vacation, maybe he could have it sorted out before Monday, then no one at work would have to know.

"Okay, so where's the package now?"

The lie had worked; House had agreed to help, it should have been easy from there, but she still didn't have the package and House still wasn't telling her where it was. So now she had to perpetuate the lie a little longer. "When you didn't get back to me Sunday I sent them a message, stalled them. I told them that the delivery had been delayed, that I couldn't get to it." At least that part was true, that was why she needed him in the first place. She paused and drew in a breath. "They gave me 48 more hours."

"Why wouldn't they just kill him..."

"If they kill him they know I'll never give them what they want."

House allowed a weak sigh, I guess that kind of made sense. He was in too much pain to overthink this situation and honestly at this point he would go along with just about anything. "Okay, so we still have a little time."

She nodded, trying not to appear too eager with the next question. "So where is it now? What did you do with it?"

House smiled, the action he had taken was the only thing he was proud of himself for in this whole sorry mess. "I forwarded it."

Lydia blinked hard. "You did what?" She tried hard to control her frustration that was rapidly building back to anger. She wanted to scream, to call him every name she could think of, to continue where the people who had beaten him had left off. Of all the stupid... The thought wasn't quite complete before the spoken questions began "Whatever possessed...? Why on earth...?"

House's own expression sobered as he interrupted, "They were waiting for me outside, I'm not sure who they were but they were watching, waiting, obviously a different group to the ones who're holding Lawrence. I spotted them on the way in, and trust me when I say that if I'd had that package when I left the building, they would have it now, and we'd have no chance of saving Lawrence." He paused, talking was difficult, seemed like it was too much effort against the wearing pain that sapped his strength with every breath. The drugs that lingered in his system seemed to be clawing at him, attempting to drag him back into oblivion, where at least there may be some relief. He fought against the exhaustion to keep going. "They picked me up outside. They hit me pretty hard so I think I was out for a while. When I came around they asked me a few questions." There he went with the understatements again, but he couldn't, wouldn't tell her how bad it had been.

He couldn't help it, his mind flashed back to the memory. The smell of seawater and grease and musty cloth seemed to once again assault his senses.

"What's your name?"

"Lawrence Kane," except it wasn't

"Where is your wife?"

"I don't know," except he did.

A painful blow to the abdomen would have doubled him over if he wasn't being held. He was given a moment to draw in several sharp breaths

"Where is the package?"

"What package?"

Another blow, this time to the back, less time to recover from the pain before the next question.

"What did you put into the mail? Who did you send it to?"

"It was a letter to my mother."

The reward for his sarcasm was always the hardest blow of all, the most painful, and then it began again. "What is your name?"

He amused himself for a while giving different replies to the last question.

"My Christmas list for Santa."

"The check for my subscription to Playboy."

"A letter to CBS asking them to bring back Gilligan's island."

"A letter to Amnesty International in support of their no torturing of prisoners policy."

Eventually however, he lost the will to even do that, instead just attempting to ride out the waves of pain

"House?"

The worried voice dragged him back from the memory. He looked up into concerned eyes, and moistened his dry lips. "Eventually I think I must have passed out on them and they left me. They must have considered me to be too badly hurt to worry about. They didn't bother to tie me up probably because I'm crippled. Big mistake." He grinned ferally, taking his revenge on the guard who had been left to watch him had been brief, a single blow had taken the man down, but it had felt good. The feeling was short lived; he still had to escape. Taking out one man when you had the element of surprise on your side was a far cry from dealing with the four thugs who had been using him as a punch bag for the last few hours. Thus, he staggered out to the car, inching himself down corridors and around corners as his heart beat doubled in his chest, was a study in fear and desperation. The only thing that kept him going was the knowledge that he couldn't take any more. He was close to his breaking point and he knew it. That knowledge fueled the adrenaline that kept him going until he finally emerged into the cold moonless night. He had almost cried with relief when he had seen the car, even more so when he'd found the doors open. Trembling fingers completed the hot wire and he was finally away, not allowing himself even the smallest acknowledgement of relief until he was sure that no one followed.

He couldn't describe the fear, didn't want to acknowledge the desperation of the escape. He swallowed. He glossed over it. "There was only one guard left watching me. I took my chance and made it out. I headed to my apartment and called you."

"Why didn't you tell me what they did to you... How bad... "

"I didn't want you to worry." House stated.

She couldn't help the sarcasm of the reply. "Well that worked well when I didn't hear from you for more than 12 hours... "

"I'm sorry."

She didn't want his apology she just wanted the package. She reined her anger back in a little. Steadied her voice. "So, who did you mail it to?"

"A good friend. They'll look after it for me."

"Who?"

"Don't worry it'll be delivered in the morning then we'll go and get it together."

This time it took every ounce of self-control that Lydia possessed to avoid hitting him, to avoid screaming at him that he should just tell her where the damn package was. That she didn't need his help; didn't need his protection. She had already killed to get her hands on the contents, would do it again if she had to, but she knew that she couldn't do that, she couldn't show her hand, couldn't risk him refusing to cooperate. She had come too far, had done too much, to throw it all away now. If she just waited, continued the lie, then he would lead her to it.

She glanced down at the water in her hand and a small smile played on her lips. There were more subtle ways she could vent her frustration. "More water?" She offered guilelessly.

House nodded gratefully lifting his head from the pillows a little as she helped him.

It only took a slight jerk of her hand. She pulled the cup away, apologizing profusely as she watched the result with a perverse satisfaction. The water emptied just a touch too quickly into House's mouth, and he began to choke, triggering an automatic coughing response. Broken and cracked ribs were forced to move with a violence that required torn tissue and abused muscles to respond beyond their current capacity. White hot tendrils of agony spiked out from his rib cage, wiping all conscious thought, as the pain seemed to take complete possession of everything that was him. Muscles spasmed as each cough shook his system, the pain hitting unbearable levels until finally he passed out, dropping back onto the bed, weak coughs still shaking him.

Lydia shook her head, putting the glass of water down. "I'm so sorry," she said, brushing the hair away from House's closed eyes. "And look, you didn't even get a proper drink. I'll have to give you some more later."