A/N: WOAH! This received a thousand times warmer welcome than I could've EVER dared to even dream of. (beams)

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for you fantastic review! (hugs) They seriously mean the world to me.

Now, since there seemed to be those of you who wanted this story to continue… Let's go! I truly hope that you'll enjoy this one.

Chokehold

A month passed by and Wilson's burn injury was a thing in the past. It was one o'clock in the afternoon when House marched into his best friend's office, not paying the thought of knocking any mind. "I'm hungry and I'm going to make sure that you actually eat today", he announced, tapping the floor with his cane impatiently. "So, we're going to get some lunch. You're buying."

Wilson sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry House but I'm busy. I've got paperwork and the next patient…"

"… wouldn't appreciate a doctor swaying on his feet", House interrupted, his impatience intensifying tenfold. "So, you've got two options. Either you go with me willingly or I'll have to result to more drastic measures."

Wilson gave him a wry look although some amusement shimmered in the younger man's eyes. "You do remember that kidnapping is a crime, don't you?"

House shrugged. "So don't make me commit it. I've been to a jail and it's not all it's cracked up to be." He already knew that he'd won.

They'd been sitting in the cafeteria for about ten minutes until House noticed how slowly and stiffly his friend moved, wincing from time to time. "What's with the geriatric turtle routine?"

Wilson cleared his throat. Was that… a blush? "My back just hurts a bit. Sorry, not a new puzzle for you."

"You managed to hurt your back? How?" House frowned until his eyes widened to a nearly comical size. "Oh…!"

Yes, this time there was definitely some coloring on his friend's face. "Yeah, 'oh'. I'd… rather not go into further details."

House smirked although something he didn't quite like began to swell in the pit of his stomach. "Well how about that… I would've never thought that you had it in you."

Wilson responded with throwing a french frie at him. For the first time in who knows how long there was a genuine smile on the oncologist's face. "Grow up, House."

House stuck out a tongue, unashamed of the fact that his mouth was full. Wilson rolled his eyes but the man's smile widened a fraction.

They finished the lunch surrounded by a comfortingly familiar air, blissfully unaware of the eyes observing them.

There was a nagging warning in the back of Wilson's head long before he ever opened the door of a apartment that was supposed to be a home. Or perhaps it was the voice of experience that alarmed him. As much as he hated the thought by now he knew all the signs.

Wilson took a deep breath upon closing the door. The tv was on. He could smell pasta sauce. There was a light shining from the living room. So deviously normal.

Feeling oddly dazed he took off his jacket before heading towards the light. "Hey. I'm sorry I'm late." He swallowed, attempting to shield against what was to come. By then he'd reached the living room's doorway. No one was inside. He blinked a couple of times, the vacant exterior momentarily cracked by a shockwave of panic. The stinging sensation in his eyes was persistent. Please… Not now, not today… "I lost a patient. A child."

"So you had a shitty day?" The voice came from behind him. "So did I, Jamie."

Turning towards the speaker Wilson felt his heart thumping erratically all of a sudden. The man behind him was at around his age, very tall, athletic and ridiculously good looking. Entirely too attractive, even with that chilling expression contorting the familiar face. Those dark brown, almost black eyes were cold and unforgiving. The usually neatly done black hair was a mess, a declaration of war.

Wilson gulped, taking a subconscious step backwards. "I'm tired", he tried, working his hardest to keep his voice even and failing. "Can't this…?"

"This is our anniversary!" The other's eyes held so many emotions all at once that it was impossible to name them all. "I came home early and cooked for you! I waited for you! I… I tried, just like you told me to! Do you even fucking see that? I'M TRYING FOR YOU!" There was a choked gasp, dangerously close to a sob. The taller man's hands were shaking. "I'm trying, but I can't… I need you to help me, James! I can't do this alone!"

Wilson blinked rapidly, feeling a surge of guilt although he knew he shouldn't have. He was shaking as well. "I'm sorry", he murmured.

The other gave a weak nod along with a shuddering exhale. Tears didn't seem to be far. It wasn't until the arms wrapped around Wilson so tightly that it hurt he realized just how close the black haired man had come. The oncologist returned the embrace as well as he could, his heart hammering madly with raging adrenaline and emotions. His trembling was only becoming worse, no matter how much he tried to fight it.

Of course the other noticed. The arms holding him tensed up and tightened still, nearly taking whatever little breath he'd had away. "You want to get away from me. You're getting sick of me already, aren't you?"

Wilson's chest tightened and his body turned far colder than it should've been. "Nick, I… I need you to calm down. I want you to let go of me."

Nick did. Pushed him further so fast, in fact, that they both stumbled. Hurt, fury and grief flamed in the man's dark eyes. "So get the hell away! LEAVE, like the rest of them!"

Wilson knew perfectly well that he should've headed towards the door, away. But the naked despair in Nick's eyes… "I promised. Remember?" He approached although his old injuries still stung. Although he could barely breathe underneath the weight that'd been laid to his shoulders. "I won't let you chase me away. No matter how bad it gets." That was when he made a mistake he regretted instantly. He laid a hand on Nick's shoulder.

The touch was feather light yet the result was instant. Nick shuddered and that was all the warning Wilson received. He was floored before he realized that there was a fist headed his way. His head hit the hard floor and he groaned, barely managing to overcome the hue taking over his head. Everything spun for a moment before he managed to focus enough to see Nick coming closer. There was a threatening expression on the man's face.

"Stop this", Wilson managed with strength and conviction he hadn't expected to find. "Snap out of this. Don't…"

This time the hand wrapped around his throat, certainly hard enough to cut off all oxygen supply. Panic rose inside Wilson like wildfire and he struggled with all there was in him, fighting for his very life, but the other man was far bigger. Nick leaned closer and closer, until he could feel the man's breath against his face. "Shut… the fuck up already. Don't ever try to tell me what to do again."

Much later that evening House was fiddling with his guitar, every once in a while almost finding a melody but losing it again almost instantly. Something was bothering him but he couldn't quite name what, exactly, it was. It was a brand new puzzle. Not being able to solve it was driving him insane.

Crazier, anyway.

House was just contemplating a plan he might've – perhaps, possibly – regretted in not very distant future when his cell phone began to ring. One of his eyebrows bounced up as he discovered who the caller was. "Well, isn't this a surprise", he stated as a greeting.

For a moment he could've sworn that he heard a sob. That didn't make any sense. Wilson didn't do crying, unless of course the man was drunk enough. There was a pause that stretched a bit too long. "Can I… uh…" The oncologist cleared his throat. "Do you think I can… come over? For just a bit?" That voice… It was almost strangled. Weak, although the word should've never been associated with Wilson.

House refused to admit that the sharp jolt going through all of him could've been that of worry. He swallowed thickly. "Well, I had this very hot date in mind. But since I'm such an amazing friend…" He swallowed down the rest, mostly to avoid the heavily lingering question 'why?'.

Something was wrong. Perhaps House lacked some social skills but he was able to tell that much. The realization brought a numbing coldness into him.

That unidentifiable sound was there again. It took Wilson exactly two seconds to breathe out a reply. "Thanks. I'll be there in five." With those words the phone call was over.

House began to pace and despite the loud protests of his leg he didn't manage to stop until there was a familiar knock. He glanced towards his wrist watch and would've smirked under different circumstances. Exactly five minutes.

House limped his way to the door a bit faster than should've been possible, ripping it open in a flash. And froze. He was fairly sure that he didn't manage to hide the wave of shock, disgust and rage even nearly as well as he would've wanted to.

Sure enough, it was Wilson. With a split lip and a new set of injuries decorating his face. There were no tears anymore but the younger man's eyes were suspiciously red and swollen. Well, as far as it was possible to tell with all the bruising.

It took far longer than it should've before House managed to utter actual words. "What the hell happened to you?" His tone came out far harsher than he'd intended, which he regretted as soon as he saw the way his friend flinched.

Wilson shook his head in a manner that can only be called desperate. Those warm eyes begging, pleading. "Later, okay?" Please? With caution that shouldn't have been there the oncologist stepped into the apartment, noticeably leaving a bit of room between them.

House closed the door and didn't miss the fact that his friend's unnaturally stiff posture relaxed ever so slightly with the rest of the world having been shut out. He gritted his teeth, a million questions wanting to burst out. He'd never been exactly good at self restraint. "Make yourself at home", he muttered, not quite knowing what else to say.

There was something close to gratitude on Wilson's battered face as the man began to make his way towards the bathroom. House's eyes narrowed at the way the other favored his right leg. Wilson wasn't supposed to be the one of them with a limp.

In a mere second his decision was made.

With a gleam of determination in his eyes House took his cell phone and dialed. It took much too long before Foreman picked up. "What did you do? Do you need to be bailed out? Should I call an ambulance?"

House groaned with annoyance. "Why do you automatically assume that I'm the one who's done something stupid? Never mind. I need tomorrow off and so does Wilson."

There was a long pause. Foreman swallowed loudly before speaking. "Is he with you?"

House's eyes darkened while something almost primal took over. Sheer helpless rage coursed through his veins, stinging and burning like lava on its way through. "Yeah, nicely battered and bruised." Carefully making sure that he did so subtly enough he stepped into the hallway and closed the door. "I don't know how badly he's hurt yet."

Foreman sighed heavily. There was another long pause. "I know you, House. Don't overwhelm or aggravate him. Make sure that he's alright."

House snorted. "'Alright' definitely isn't the word that I'd associate with him right now." He gritted his teeth. "I assume that this is the end of the third degree? Bye." He hung up without waiting for a response.

Upon re-entering the apartment House discovered that Wilson was no longer in the bathroom. It didn't take long to notice that his friend had made his way to the couch. At the moment the beaten oncologist was fast asleep, curled up to his side with a small frown.

For the longest time House just stood there, not knowing what to do and hating it from the bottom of his heart. He knew that he should've checked Wilson's injuries but he didn't have the heart to rouse his friend who'd just found a place to rest. So instead he took a blanket that'd been forgotten to a nearby armchair and threw it on Wilson's slightly trembling frame.

Fighting the urge to smash something to pieces and pushing down another urge that was far more dangerous House turned a bit too sharply for his leg and began to make his way towards his bed, preparing himself for a long night.

TBC?

A/N: Poor Wilson, no? (winces) But at least he's safe with House, now. Let's hope that this will be the first step towards him breaking free from that creep. (sighs)

Soooo… Any good, at all? PLEASE, let me hear your thoughts! A word or two would mean the world to me.

Until next time, ya all! I really hope that I'll see you all then.

Take care!

SpanishGirl: My Spanish skills are tragically limited, but according to what I translated it seems that you enjoyed the first bit. (BEAMS) I truly hope that what's to come won't disappoint you, either!

HUGE thank yous for the review!

Namasteyo: Ah, I'm REALLY happy to hear that you enjoyed the first bit so much! (grins from ear to ear) Mmm, the idea of House beating the person hurting Wilson with his cane sounds suuuuuper tempting…

I'm not a huge fan of 'bad Wilson', either. It just doesn't seem to suit the picture I have of him. (winces)

Massive thank yous for the review! Perhaps I'll be seeing you around?

Toosie: Your wish is my command! (grins)

Thank you so much for the review!

anon: It doesn't feel done to me, either, soooo… (smirks) I'm really glad to hear that you liked the startout! I truly hope that you'll enjoy what's to come as well.

Monumental thank yous for the review!

Loundryfolder: (giggles) Awww, your review seriously made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside! 30 chapters… We'll see, we'll see. (chuckles) But it warms my heart to hear that you'd be willing to stick around through that much.

Humongous thank yous for the absolutely amazing review! I truly hope that what's to come meets your expectations.