A/N: I just wanted to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter. You guys are amazing! I know I kind of dropped a big bomb on everyone, but I was beyond glad and relieved that you all were as excited about it as I am. I hope that you all will show this chapter the same understanding. I know that everything appears confusing, but everything will clear out soon.

Thanks again to all my wonderful reviewers. You made my week.

She felt like she was floating, her body feather light in the endless darkness. Every thought was hazy, and every sense of worry or pain disappeared.

In the warm embrace of darkness she felt safe, and she never wanted to leave.

She didn't know how long she had stayed in the darkness, but it felt like eternity.

But suddenly everything seemed to shift. First she could feel a small sensation, then it burned up until it felt like someone was stabbing her with hundreds of daggers at the same time. She wanted to scream out, but she couldn't.

She started to hear noises. At first they were quiet, like a small buzz until they magnified along with the pain, and it felt like all of her senses came to life at the same time. The smell of blood filled her nostrils, and loud beeping sounds erupted through her ears. She felt something soft touch her, but she wasn't sure what it was or where it came from, but it felt comfortable in contrast to the burning pain.

"Lisa."

A soft voice called her name. Somehow it didn't feel right, like she was expecting someone else, but she couldn't register who or what she was expecting.

"Lisa." The voice was firmer but still soft, as if it were beckoning her to open her eyes. She tried to open her eyelids, but they felt heavy and she longed to return to the comfortable darkness.

"Cuddy."

She could feel the muscle in her hands tense slightly on their own accord when she heard the voice. It was familiar, safe.

She tried to open her eyes once again. This time she managed to open a small crack but the blinding light hurt her eyes and she shut them tightly.

"Cuddy, can you hear me?"

She felt someone squeeze her hand, and she tried to squeeze back, but she felt weak and tired. The strength seemed to drain from her body, and she tried to fight the swarming darkness around her, but she felt hopeless fighting against it, and soon she allowed it to embrace her whole being. She couldn't deal with the cold, loud, and bright world, even though she knew that it was the only way out.

He sat in the small interrogation room inside the red brick building of the Princeton Police Department. His head was cast downwards, his ever-alert eyes glazed, his mind racing. The uncertainty was driving him insane. He slammed his fist on the table and stared at the closed door.

He wasn't sure how long he had been waiting. They took away his watch, wallet, even his cane. He didn't know how long he had waited, but it felt like hours.

His whole body was restless. He was tired, agitated, confused, but most of all afraid.

When the Officers had arrested him, he had barely listened to the allegations; every thought went to her. He didn't know how they had even managed to drag him out of the hospital, but somehow they had, and now he was sitting there, feeling emotionally frustrated and terrified.

The door opened and in walked a man in his forties. His short but fit body was clad in a traditional police uniform; black pants and a blue shirt that was embroidered with the shield of the police department. He held two cups of coffee in his hands, and closed the door with his elbow. He stepped towards him and placed one of the steaming cups in front of him. He took a sip from his own, and placed it carefully on the table, alongside a file he had been carrying under his arm.

"Dr. House. I'm Detective Sam Pritchett, I'm sorry for keeping you waiting." He sat down opposite him and observed him with dark brown eyes that reminded him in many ways of Wilson, except the Detective's eyes were speculative and resolute, yet they held the same sympathy and kindness.

Detective Pritchett opened the file in front of him, but didn't read over the contents. His eyes bore into his.

"I believe that you have been read the allegations that you are accused of." He muttered thoughtfully, he tapped a pen against the file and stared at him with even eyes.

"Now, this isn't an arrest, but we have a court order to hold you here for the next twenty four hours until we have investigated the case further. You declined a lawyer earlier, you do realize that you have those rights if you have changed your mind."

House didn't say anything. He was barely listening to the words he said. He felt a growing headache that pounded against his scull. The only thought that managed to come through his mind was whether Cuddy was safe, and the baby…No, he couldn't think about that right now, he needed to focus. But Masters words seemed to echo in his head, teasing him with every possible scenario.

"Dr. Cuddy, she's…injured."

The sheer panic in her voice, and the terror in her eyes was enough to make his blood run cold.

"Dr. House."

The sound of his name snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned his head to Detective Pritchett who looked at him curiously.

"Are you listening to what I'm saying? These are serious allegations. Are you sure that you don't want a lawyer?"

"What I want." He muttered evenly but darkly. "Is to get out of here."

The tapping stopped, and he rested his hands on the table.

"I'm sorry, but that's not possible. I need you to take this seriously and co-operate with us. If you're innocent, which you have stated that you are, you have to prove it, and that requires for you to co-operate, and focus."

Pritchett's voice was even, and calm.

"I'm not the enemy. I am here to listen to what you have to say about those allegations, and then we'll work out whether you're testimony is reliable."

House crossed his arms and glared at him with piercing eyes.

"I didn't do whatever I'm accused for. I don't even know whom I'm supposed to have assaulted, and if you idiots don't have anything better to do than charge innocent people for deeds they haven't done, you sure as hell will hear from my lawyer. That's my testimony." He said in a low voice. The Detective didn't react to his threat, instead he looked calmly from the file to House.

"How is your working relationship with Nurse Adams?"

"Who?" He asked incredulously.

"Dr. House. I remind you that we're not making any assumptions. You don't have to pretend. Just answer my questions as truthfully as you can."

House's brow furrowed as he tried to wrap his mind around the information.

"Look. I don't know who Nurse Adams is. I don't care about nurses, or other doctors. I just arrive at work and do my job." House could feel the building frustration get the best of him.

"So you have never had any interaction with her?"

"No."

Detective Pritchett leaned back in his seat and watched him curiously.

"Then how can you explain this picture?" He lay down a single picture on the table and slid it in front of him. House leaned over the table to observe the picture. It showed a still from a security camera that had the outlook of the back of the hospital parking lot, he could barely see anything notable about the picture until he saw two figures in the right corner. He could spot a head of blonde hair, and a tall person looming over her, he had to squint his eyes but it was there, a cane was propped against the wall, a cane that was unmistakably his. His eyes shot up at the Detective. He looked back down at the picture for a double take, then frowned and lowered it on the table.

"I can't."

"What about these?"

He handed him a couple of other pictures, which were even more alarming than the other one. One showed the back of a woman's leg, her creamy skin was spotted with purple bruises and gashes. Those marks could only be caused from a heavy object.

The other one showed the rear and side, the marks were even worse, and he could see obvious bite marks on the side. He dropped the pictures on the table, and shook his head angrily. He didn't know what this was supposed to mean. He was clearly being framed, but by whom? And most of all, why?

He would be the first to admit that he had his issues, but one thing was for sure that he would never ever lay a hand on a woman, especially one he had never even spoken to in his life, and he would definitely not rape anyone. He looked at Detective Pritchett gravely and tapped a finger on the table.

"I understand that this is horrible, and no one should ever experience something like this, but I did not do this."

"Can you prove that you weren't in that hospital parking lot at 10 o'clock Friday afternoon?"

House tried to think back, where had he been? He had just received the case of the little girl, and he had worked late. He remembered telling Cuddy to go home, and he would come over later, then he…Oh no. He had checked out of the hospital by ten, which meant that he had been in that parking lot…but that didn't make any sense.

"I…I was working late, and I don't remember exactly when I walked out of the building but it was about that time." He muttered.

"Can anyone testify to that? Is there anyone in your everyday life that can prove that you left the building at that time?"

He could feel the knot in his stomach tighten at the thought of the person who could easily prove that he had arrived home at that time. The image of her body, broken and twisted on the platform evaded his mind. Every nerve of his body was on fire; he needed to know how she was. He needed to know that she was okay.

"Dr. House, I know this is hard for you, but you need to answer my questions."

"No." He said firmly. "There is no one who knew." He said abruptly. If there was anything he didn't want was to appear vulnerable. If he would show any sign of weakness they could easily use it against him. There was no chance that they would let him out even though they would know the horrible incident his girlfriend had been through. So he tried to reason with himself to stay calm and answer the questions. He couldn't get himself into trouble now.

"Then how do you explain this picture?" He pointed towards the snapshot from the security camera.

"I told you already that I can't. This picture is already blurred, you can't prove that this could possibly be me. Either you are mistaking me for someone else or someone is framing me for something I didn't do. It's the only explanation I can give you."

Detective Pritchett sighed and scratched his head.

"You were accused for falsifying drug prescriptions. Do you have a drug problem?"

House glared at him with a frozen stare.

"I believe that it has nothing to do with my current allegations, so I don't see why answering this question would change the course of your investigation one bit."

"Are you on drugs?" Detective Pritchett asked simply. He frowned but shook his head.

"No. I have been clean for a year. You can ask my co-workers, they can testify to that."

Detective Pritchett nodded his head and scribbled something down on paper.

"Then tell me Dr. House, why do you think that someone would want to frame you for such a serious crime?"

"I don't know."

"Are you sure? Is there anyone you feel threatened by, or someone close to you?"

He thought about it. Of course there were many people who disliked him, that was no secret, but that someone would do this was plainly absurd.

"No."

Detective Pritchett sighed and closed the file. He rested his elbows on the table and knit his hands together.

"Look. I am a man of the old school. I believe in that a person is innocent until proven guilty. However, I'm afraid that you don't have the favor in your hands. You have no alibi that you weren't in the parking lot at the time, and you didn't see anyone who could have spotted you…"

"No."

Detective Pritchett looked at him with sympathetic eyes, and stood up.

"Officer Jones will take you to your cell. If you remember anything just ask for Sam Pritchett."

House watched him leave the room, and inside walked in the taller police officer that was involved with the arrest. He held a pair of handcuffs and locked them securely on his wrists. Together they walked out of the small room.

The cell he had been appointed to was tiny. The bed covered half of the room. In the corner was a toilet and a small sink. He sank down on the mattress, which groaned under his weight, and moved into the corner so his back was propped against the wall. He stared ahead, at the firmly closed doors, and thought how on earth he had gotten himself into this mess.

Nothing of this made any sense at all. He tried to gather the tiny shards of information he had been given, and tried to puzzle them together into a solid image, but his mind kept going back to Cuddy.

This couldn't be a coincidence, it just couldn't be. But how could those two events have any connection? Who would go so far?

He cradled his head against his elbow, and tried in vain to think of anything else but Cuddy. The sheer fear of losing her was driving him mad. He finally snapped and screamed out, and hit the wall with his fist. He felt searing pain shoot through his arm, but he welcomed the pain, at least it took away the pain that was bubbling in his chest.

He had to get out of there. He had to go to her.

For the next hours, or that was how long it appeared to him; he heard the sound of heavy footsteps approach the door. The door opened and in walked an Officer. He looked at him with a sour expression on his face.

"There is someone to see you."

He hesitated, but stood up and followed the officer into a quiet room that was very much familiar with the interrogation room he had just sat in earlier.

"Sit down. He'll be here in a moment."

The officer left, and he sat alone in the middle of the room. He waited for several minutes until he saw the doorknob turn and the officer returned again, this time he saw a familiar face of his best friend behind him.

"You have ten minutes." He spat and closed the door. Wilson didn't say anything and walked slowly towards him, his head turned downwards.

He felt the sinking feeling in his stomach, but tried to brush it away and waited for his friend to approach him. Wilson didn't say anything, and sat down opposite him. He observed him sadly and pursed his lips as if he was trying to find the right words. He opened and closed his mouth, then he sighed and cast his head downwards.

House swallowed, but his throat felt incredibly dry. He had never had any trouble finding the right words to say, but right now he couldn't say anything, because he knew that the undeniable truth that awaited him couldn't be good.

"Wilson." He rasped out, his voice a desperate plea.

Wilson looked up, and House almost revolted back in his seat. He knew what he was about to say before he uttered the words.

"I'm so sorry."