CH. 2

The smell of his perfectly prepared Subway sandwich drafting from the plastic bag in his hand made his mouth water. He was hungry, that was for sure. He really should've eaten breakfast… but who has time to eat when the she-witch is busy ordering you around?

House made his way to coma guy's room and began to make himself comfortable. He hadn't been in there lately so the chances of Cuddy looking for him there first were slim. Using his hospital table, House arranged his lunch and grabbed the tv remote. Grabbing half of his sandwich he relaxed into the chair and began channel surfing.

Nothing was on… not even his soaps. But just as he was about to change the channel for the seventh time, the tv caught his attention as the news reporter began talking about breaking news - a bank robbery in-progress. As House began to listen intently, Wilson entered.

"Ah, Jimmy boy, what brings you here?"

"I was looking for Cuddy, my patient needs the procedure and she needs to sign off on it."

"And you're looking for her in here?" House said sarcastically while shaking his head.

"No, I was looking for you, because no doubt you would be keeping tabs on her."

House rolled his eyes.

"My dear Jimmy, there are times when one has to make the hard decision – food or Cuddy." He holds up the sandwich.

Just as Wilson was turning to leave –

'This just in: robber has taken a hostage at gunpoint. WAIT, get a close-up on the window – there they are!' the reporter interrupted from the television.

"Oh my God, is that Cuddy?" Wilson said nervously as he got closer to the television.

"Well, I can't tell because someone's head is in the way!" House replied waving his sandwich. Why would Cuddy be at the bank anyway? It couldn't be her…

"IT IS! And he has a gun to her!" Wilson breathed, answering his own question.

House just looked at the screen – emotionless – just staring.

"House, what are we-" Wilson started as he turned to look at his friend, but House was already making his way out the door.

"H-House…?" Wilson almost outstretched his hand to stop him before quickly following his friend out of the room.

He kept up pace, a considerably fast one, trying to stay with the man hobbling with a cane. He'd never seen House hustle so fast, ever.

"House, what are – "

"I'm going to the bank," House said, interrupting him with a deep tone. Wilson caught a glimpse of his friend's expression as the gruff doctor determinedly pressed the down button for the elevator.

"Why –"

As if on cue, the elevator doors opened and House stepped in. Wilson watched as he turned around and pressed the ground button. House looked at him grimly.

"I need to make a withdrawal," House said as the doors closed.

Meanwhile…

Cuddy finished collecting the cell phones and brought him the bag. Grabbing it from her, he took hold of her wrist.

"That's a good girl," he said in a low, dark voice before shoving her back on the ground.

"I'll finish with you later."

Cuddy hugged her knees to her chest and buried her face in them as she tried to regain herself, but failed. She had never been so scared – her life had never been threatened. Why is this happening? Does Rupert even know where I am? Will he come for me? She began to cry as she let her thoughts ran wild. Rupert…

She began to cry harder. House. Why was she thinking of him? Then it hit her… every time she thought of Rupert, House was never far behind. She tried to suppress it… but why was she always thinking of him? She began to wonder what he was doing and whether or not he even had a clue of where she was… would he care? And there she went – thinking of House. She shook her head, she was with Rupert now, and things were going great. She had to get House out of her mind if she ever wanted the all-American family picture….right?

Just as Cuddy was drowning in her thoughts, a phone rang.

"This is non-negotiable. I demand a clean break. I have a hostage and I'm not afraid to shoot her or anyone else in this bank."

A hostage? What hostage? House and Rupert were gone from her mind and she slowly turned in the direction of the burglar's voice. Then, right at that moment as her eyes landed on his face, his eyes locked on hers. There was something familiar there. They stared for a moment. Cuddy couldn't help but acknowledge a sense of intimacy. Did she know this person? She looked closer at his eyes, but realizing what she was doing, the burglar turned away.

But what Cuddy noticed, is that she had seen those eyes before. They were the perfect mix of blue and green. She began to picture the face that those eyes belonged to, but just as she was about to make the connection, she heard her name.

"Yeah, that's right. I said I have Lisa Cuddy, Dean of PPTH. And if you want her and the other nameless faces to walk out of here alive, then you better be ready to pay a hefty price," his voice was stiff and demanding.

She felt her eyes begin to water. She was being used as a bargaining chip. Fear coursed through her veins, running up and down her body. Her heart rate quickened, this was all so unfair – she just wanted to deposit a donor's check. Then it hit her like a ton of bricks. Those eyes, the face – it was Rupert. No it can't be. He's a plastic surgeon from LA. He's honest, and let's face it, he was the perfect man. Handsome, intelligent, caring – he WOULDN'T hold up a bank! Or threaten my life… but this man did know my name and my occupation… and those eyes… no, it couldn't be… just as she her head began to spin round and round, his cutting voice broke the silence.

"YOU," he pointed the gun at her, "get up. Make yourself useful. Close all the blinds. Now."

While Cuddy began to make her way, shakily, to the windows, he began tying people up. There were fifteen tall arch-fixed windows, and as she shut the blinds she was able to catch a glimpse of the outside world – all the cars passing, people watching, the news team, and even the SWAT team. A lump formed in her throat and a knot of fear tied up her stomach. She began to wonder if she would ever feel the sunlight. Would she make it out? Her eyes watered at the thought that she might not make it out of this alive.

Shutting the blinds on the last window, she froze. She saw a motorcycle – the motorcycle – his motorcycle.

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