"What did you do?" Wilson demanded, his voice shaking with fury as his footsteps stopped directly in front of where House knelt on the bathroom floor.

House cringed, immediately knowing that Wilson must be able to tell that he'd moved the blindfold, despite his efforts to move it back to the same position it'd been in when Wilson left. It felt the same. The problem was that he couldn't actually see it to know for sure if he'd succeeded in his efforts.

And apparently… he hadn't.

His brief bloom of courage wilted under the force of the menace in Wilson's voice, and House instinctively drew back against the bathtub behind him, his body trembling violently with dread of Wilson's wrath.

"Please," he whispered, hating himself for the pathetic tremor in his voice. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry, Wilson…"

It didn't occur to House to lie until after he'd already all but confessed – and that was possibly most disturbing of any of his own reactions so far.

At any rate, his desperate, timid plea was silenced by a sharp slap that rocked his head back against the tub, causing his vision to go dull and hazy for a few moments. House flinched, but couldn't see to pull away as Wilson grabbed a handful of his hair and jerked him forward with one hand, his other hand closing warningly around House's thigh.

The damaged limb spasmed under Wilson's hand in a subconscious reaction to the threat, and House shook his head as much as he could, choking back a terrified sob. "No," he gasped. "Wilson, no, please don't…"

Wilson ignored his pleas, leaning in close to inform him in a coldly triumphant voice, "I'll always know when you do things like this, House… things you're not supposed to do. And you will be punished for it… every time…" His voice rose, his hand tightening in House's hair, as he concluded, "… so the smartest thing you can do... is stop acting like a freaking moron and do as you're told!"

"I'm sorry," House whispered almost frantically. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't…"

"Come on," Wilson snapped, roughly unlocking the cuffs from the bathroom pipe, fastening them again behind House's back and jerking him to his feet. "We're going back downstairs. I should just leave you there to rot, you ungrateful idiot. You don't deserve anything more than that…"

House's stomach lurched with dread at those words. As Wilson dragged him roughly through the halls and toward the basement door, he thought of the endless days he'd spent chained in the basement already, without any relief from his pain. He shook his head, a violent tremor coursing through his body as desperate, stammering words poured from his lips in a stream of helpless babbling.

"No, no, Wilson, please don't, I won't do it again, I'm sorry, I just… I n-need my… I need…"

"You need what, House?" Wilson snarled, shaking him hard at the top of the basement stairs. "Your stupid Vicodin? That's really all you care about, isn't it?"

He held onto one of House's arms, his free hand falling in a vicious slap across his face that nearly sent him tumbling down the stairs. The feeling of nothing but empty air behind him as his foot slipped from the stair made House's stomach lurch with instinctive panic, but Wilson caught his other arm, not allowing him to fall.

"I decide what you need!" Wilson repeated, his voice seething with furious resentment. "I decide when you need to eat, drink, sleep… whether you need your freakin' Vicodin…" His voice was cold with disgust, and he lowered it with menace as he concluded, "… whether you need a quick shove right now to remind you how bad your pain levels can actually be… you think that might help, House?"

House shook his head, nearly beside himself with fear, his shoulders quaking with sobs. "No," he pleaded. "No, Wilson, please… no, I'm sorry…"

A rough hand in his hair made House wince with pain, but he didn't try to pull away as Wilson jerked his head back and snarled, "Shut up."

He dragged House down the stairs and shoved him forcefully to his knees on the cement beside the mattress. House bit back a cry of pain at the impact, doing his best to be quiet and not to resist, terrified of increasing Wilson's mad fury.

"Do not… move."

The tone of Wilson's order left no doubt as to the types of things that might happen to him if he disobeyed. House remained perfectly still on his knees, struggling to control the tremor of mingled cold and dread that coursed through his body, as Wilson's footsteps echoed on the stairs. A few moments later, Wilson returned, and House felt the coarse fabric of a warm towel rubbing against his cold, damp skin.

Wilson was not particularly gentle, but did not seem to be trying to hurt House as he maneuvered his body to dry him off, then tossed the towel aside. A forceful hand at the back of House's neck pressed his head forward until his brow brushed the concrete in a completely subservient position. House didn't fight, trembling as Wilson held him there and leaned in close, his voice barely over a menacing whisper.

"Don't you have something to say to me?"

House was confused and terrified, desperately struggling to find the right words. He had already apologized a dozen times, but he found himself stammering out anyway, "I-I'm sorry… I'm sorry, Wilson… please…"

"Not that," Wilson snapped impatiently. "I just gave you a privilege – one that you obviously didn't deserve, since the first thing you did immediately afterwards was to disobey me. Now what do you have to say, House?"

House felt sick at the thought of the words Wilson wanted, considering the brutality and degradation to which he'd just been subjected, but he knew that he had no choice. His voice was a hoarse, subdued whisper as he choked out the answer Wilson demanded.

"Th-thank you…"

Wilson released him abruptly without acknowledging the words, and House stayed there, trembling, not daring even to rise back up on his knees as he heard the rustling sounds of Wilson's moving about the room, making some kind of preparations. He was terrified that Wilson would go through with his threat to simply tie him down and leave him in the basement indefinitely, desperate to do something to redeem himself in the eyes of his captor.

He made himself completely pliant as Wilson pulled him up off his knees and then pushed him down again onto the mattress, guiding him down onto his stomach this time. House realized with a pathetic sense of relieved gratitude that the rough vinyl mattress had been covered with soft, clean sheets and a thin fleece blanket. When Wilson locked his hands into the cuffs above his head, House recognized the feeling of the special padded set he'd used in his other house, much easier and less painful on his bruised wrists.

House recognized that the surge of guilt he felt for his disobedience, in the light of these comforts Wilson had provided for him before he'd committed it, was irrational and dangerous, a disturbing sign of the gradual change in his mindset. He knew it for the chilling symptom it was.

Still, he couldn't help feeling it.

Wilson's words only served to reinforce his troubling emotions, as the younger man spoke in a cold, quiet tone. "You don't deserve all this, House. You were doing so well. I thought, 'Maybe he deserves a little bit of a break. I'm being awfully hard on him lately. Maybe I should make things a little more comfortable for him.' And what did you do? You immediately defy me the first chance you get."

"I'm sorry," House whispered. "I'm sorry, Wilson. Thank you…"

Wilson was quiet for a long moment, and House's entire body was tense with apprehension, waiting for his inevitable reaction. When Wilson's hand touched his hair again, House couldn't help but flinch – but the warm hand at the back of his head did not deliver another blow, but a soft, soothing caress instead. Wilson's weary sigh of resignation and defeat was strangely both relieving and frightening to House, as he really had no idea what exactly it meant.

Wilson's voice was soft, almost sympathetic, when he spoke again, fingers playing lightly through House's damp hair.

"You've got to learn to be obedient, House. You've got to stop resisting me. Every time I think things are about to get better for us, you have to go and ruin it by pulling some stupid stunt like this. Do you understand that? Do you understand how you keep setting us back, over and over again?"

House nodded obediently, his words muffled against the soft fabric beneath him. "Y-yes… I'm sorry… I wasn't… I mean…" He hesitated, biting his lower lip anxiously, uncertain as to what Wilson's reaction might be to his explanation.

"Go on," Wilson gently urged him. "What? Say what you wanna say, House. I won't hurt you for it."

House was quiet for a moment, trying to think of the right words, though his mind didn't seem to be functioning at full capacity at the moment. The trauma and terror of the past hour had him in a state of partial shock, struggling to think through the fear and confusion that filled his racing thoughts.

"I… I wasn't going to… wasn't trying to… to get away, or anything," he finally ventured to explain, his voice soft and subdued. "I just… I've had this blindfold on for… for so long… I just… wanted to see… something. Anything. I wasn't going to… to do anything. I t-tried to put it back, I just… I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Wilson… I'm so sorry…"

Wilson considered that for a moment, his hand still stroking soothingly through House's hair. "I know," he conceded at last. "I know you are. But… that doesn't change what you've done. It doesn't change the fact that you still haven't learned that what you want doesn't matter. I have to keep you safe, House. It's not pleasant, but I have to do what I have to do to make sure that you'll let me do that – and that means making you understand that I'm in charge here. That blindfold comes off if and when I say it does – not when you want it to. Is that clear?"

House nodded, whispering, "Yes."

Wilson was quiet a moment before replying as he rose to his feet. "Maybe twenty-four hours without your pills will make it just a little bit clearer."

"No," House whimpered, feeling frustrated, fearful tears forming in his eyes. "Wilson, please…"

"You can shut up," Wilson cut him off calmly. "On your own – or I can put the gag back. Your choice."

House was silent, dreading the prospect of having the uncomfortable gag to add to his list of hardships. He knew better than to think that pleading with Wilson would help at this point. He kept quiet, his heart sinking with despair as Wilson's slow footsteps faded away up the stairs, and the door closed firmly behind him.