Chapter eight. Oh my. You know there's going to be 20 something chapters, right?

I plan to have them all up by next Friday.

But don't hold me to it.

"And then there were three," House said as he threw his red and grey tennis ball across the room to Wilson, who caught it.

House, Chase, and Wilson were sitting in House's office, pondering what to do next. It was late at night and not many other employees were at the hospital, but ever since Cameron had disappeared no one really associated with House or his staff in fear of being taken also. However, they would slowly walk past the diagnostics department, staring at the others on the other side of the clear walls, wondering what was happening.

"He's a mob guy; he isn't going to make any mistakes so that we can find him. He keeps himself hidden," Wilson said, throwing the tennis ball over his shoulder to Chase.

"But you never know. What are we going to do?" Chase asked. "Maybe we should just move away."

"I'm not going anywhere. We just have to be careful," Wilson stated.

"What do you mean by careful? Are we going to have to look down every road before we go down it?" Chase asked with his voice rising.

"If that keeps us from getting snatched and carted off somewhere, then yes!" Wilson yelled.

"Whoa, people calm down," House said.

Chase and Wilson glanced at each other and muttered "Sorry."

House rubbed his forehead. "Now, I hate to tell you Junior, but I think the Boy Wonder is right about Bill being neat with his work. He's not going to leave a trail of bread crumbs to where he's hidden. We're going to have to be cleverer than Hansel and Gretel. But I have an idea that can help us."

"What?" Chase asked.

House motioned for them to lean in closer, and he said, "Don't worry about it."

"Oh, that's just wonderful. That solves everybody's problems," Wilson said.

"No, it doesn't solve mine," House said. "The only part of my staff I have left is Chase, and that's not all that great."

"Being stuck with you isn't all that great either." Chase threw the tennis ball at House but he missed, and it hit the wall with a thud.

"You don't have to get mad." House bent over in his chair to retrieve his tennis ball and he sat it back on his desk.

"Listen. We have to stick together. We have to avoid ways to be available to Bill and avoid being taken," Wilson said, always trying to make the situation better.

"Yeah, me, you, Chase, and what the heck, Cuddy too, we're going to stick to each other like glue. But I think Chase is the one that should be worried. After all, he is the one that got the treat that Bill threw at him," House said.

Chase looked away and down at his watch. "I better go, it's getting late."

Wilson and House watched as Chase silently and quickly left, flinging the door open and letting it fall shut behind him.

"Now why did you have to go and do that for? He was already worried enough and you just went and made it worse," Wilson said.

"I know. I feel so horrible. I might cry."

"I know why you're being like this. You are worried, but you don't want to seem like you are so you pretend like you don't care," Wilson said.

"Thank you Dr. Wilson for your psycho-analysis, but I'm okay."

Wilson smiled. "I'm right, you are worried."

House slammed his fist on the table. "Of course I'm worried. Not only do I have to watch out for some revengeful mob guy that's chasing me, I have to look out for everyone else too and feel guilt for the ones that haven't been so lucky."

"I can take care of myself," Wilson said.

"Cameron and Foreman thought that they could take care of themselves, and look where that got them. I have to worry about who he's going to take next and what he's going to do with the ones that he has taken. And I have to live knowing that this is my entire fault and if I didn't screw up, none of this would be happening."

Wilson sat there while House let out all his anger and worries. After House had calmed down, Wilson said, quietly "The only person blaming you is yourself."

"You should blame me." House leaned back in his chair. Wilson still saw traces of black and blue bruises lining his jaw and neck. Wilson knew that House was afraid of being vulnerable to pain - physical or emotional - both of which Bill had caused.

Wilson took the 8 ball off of House's desk. "Let's see..." Wilson shook the ball while he asked the question, "Is all of this House's fault?"

"What does it say?"

"Ask again later." Wilson shook the ball again, this time asking, "Will Bill take another person?"

"And the magic 8 ball says...?"

"...No."

House leaned forward. "You lair, it says yes." House snatched the ball from Wilson. "I don't let lairs play with my toys."

"Oh darn." Wilson stood up. "I better go."

"Yeah. You have to go feed your gerbil or whatever."

Wilson held the door open, but he remained standing the doorway. "Are you sure you're okay?"

House rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm fine."

"Be careful."

"Same to you."

When Wilson left, House picked up the 8 ball again.

"Is this all my fault?" he asked.

No.

House set it down on his desk thinking, Even you're on his side.

Chase zipped up his jacket to block out the cold evening breeze. He hurried to his car not wanting to be out alone at night.

He anxiously looked around. No one was to be seen. Chase went on, still nervous. Even though no one was around, the fear was still there. He had the hopeless feeling that he couldn't avoid the same fate that Cameron and Foreman had met. And House was right, if anyone was going to be next to go, it would be him…

Stop it, Chase told himself.

Chase froze when he heard footsteps behind him. He slowly looked over his shoulder, expecting to see Bill, but instead he saw nobody.

Chase sighed. Just being paranoid, he thought. He turned back around only to be faced with what he didn't want to see. There was Bill, alone with his hands in pockets grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Chase stood there petrified on the spot. His mind was telling him to run and get out of there, but his legs wouldn't move.

Bill stepped right next to Chase and grabbed his arm. Chase struggled to free his arm, but stopped when he felt cold metal at his waist.

"You move, I'll shoot you,'' Bill whispered harshly.

Chase not wanting to get shot, he stood still. He even breathed lighter not wanting to give Bill a reason to shoot at the slightest movements he made.

"Now this is what's going to happen. You're going to come with me quietly. And before you try anything smart, I'll let you know that this gun is loaded and I never miss," Bill explained.

Chase swallowed. Should he comply with Bill's orders? He looked around for a possible escape route.

"You can't go anywhere," Bill said.

Knowing that this could be his only chance, Chase jerked out of Bill's grip and took off.

BANG!

Chase hit the ground. It took a second for him to realize that he didn't get shot and that he was okay, but he lay on the ground not wanting to push his luck.

Bill bent down and grabbed Chase by the neck and pulled him up to his level.

"I thought that you didn't miss," muttered Chase.

"I don't, and next time I'll be aiming to kill," Bill said.

Chase decided against anymore attempts of escape. He wondered if this is what Cameron and Foreman went though; the threats, the capture, the promises of death, the suffocating fear, and the realization that they couldn't do anything and had to remain helpless.

"Good choice," Bill said. He pulled a piece of rope from his pocket and tied Chase's wrists together. Chase winced in pain as the rope cut into his wrists.

Bill pulled out his gun again. Chase held his breath while the gun was pointed at him, but then was relieved when Bill turned and fired two bullets at a window of the hospital. Chase strained to hear, and in the distance he heard breaking glass.

Chase counted the windows and realized that the window that Bill shot through was the window of the office of diagnostics. He turned to Bill in shock.

Bill pulled Chase so he would walk with him. "That was a warning. Don't worry though, I'm sure House or whoever else was in there isn't dead. But they would be luckier if they were."

"Why?" Chase asked.

"Because then they would have to go through much less trouble," Bill said as he dragged Chase along, who feared what was to come.

Wilson worried about House now more than ever. He wished House would realize that it wasn't his fault, because now he is going to go on a forever long guilt trip.

Maybe I shouldn't leave him alone, Wilson thought. Wilson decided against it because if Wilson went back, House would get angry and make a big deal out of it, and Wilson didn't want House angry.

Wilson heard shattering glass. He turned around and walked down the hall to see what happened, and he stopped in front of House's office. He looked in and saw the window broken, but he didn't see House.

"House?" Wilson called. He ran into his office. "Where are you?"

"Over here."

Walking on broken glass which made crunching sounds under his shoes, Wilson went around House's desk. There he found House sitting on the ground holding his right arm. Wilson knelt down next to House and tried to move his hand away.

"Let me see," Wilson said gently.

House let Wilson move his hand away, and when he did Wilson saw blood covering House's palm and beginning to run down the sleeve of his shirt.

Wilson looked over the desk. There were many people standing at the door watching in curiosity.

"Don't just stand there, do something," Wilson ordered, and looked back at House. As he watched his friend's blood start to spill on the carpet, Wilson knew that Bill was serious.

A/N: This was written before the season 2 finale, so I didn't steal the idea of House getting shot. Just thought you should know. :)