House downed the whisky Wilson had bought him and knew he was very quickly sliding down the slope into unconscious drunk. That was exactly where he wanted to be, but not here. He wanted that final blow to come from a glass at home where he could collapse on the sofa and throw up on himself in peace.
"Time to go," he announced and chuckled at Wilson's startled expression. It was what he'd been waiting for all night, so he shouldn't have been that surprised.
"Okay. Good. Cab? Yes, of course cab." Wilson was talking to himself, starting to sound a little drunk as well. Ha, House thought with a strong sense of schadenfreude, at least he'd brought a casualty along for the ride with him.
They made their way to the door and the bright, flashing red and blue lights that greeted them as soon as they stepped outside the dark bar made him blink and hold a protective hand up to his eyes. He'd just adjusted focus enough to realise there was both ambulance and police cars in front of him before a hellcat with blonde hair launched herself at him.
"Bastard!" she screamed. "You fucking asshole! You did this to her!"
Her fists beat against his chest and although she was slight, her anger gave her extra power. House's cane clattered to the ground and he fell back, staggering, until he was against the wall of the bar. She kept pummelling him, kicking his shins and smacking her fists against his chest and face. House put up his hands to protect himself from her onslaught.
"You selfish, arrogant asshole!"
It took only a few seconds, but suddenly they were surrounded by uniformed police, one grabbing and restraining the blonde, another restraining House.
"Hey, I didn't do anything!" he protested. "She was the one who…"
The cop twisted his arm up behind his back and House broke off with a grunt of pain.
"Is this the guy?" The cop asked. "Is he the one she was drinking with?"
House looked over and recognised the blonde wildcat was Sarah. And Sarah's shirt was covered with blood. He had a sudden sinking feeling that was nothing to do with his drunkenness and thought he might puke.
"No, he wasn't the one she was drinking with," she said, a little quieter, before her anger returned in force. "But he was the one who should have saved her!"
She leapt against the restraining arms of the police officer. "You're supposed to be a doctor!" she screamed. "And you didn't even noticed she was drugged? You go out with her for three months – you practically live with her! – and you don't know that she would never, ever, go into an alley with a guy she hardly knows? You bastard!"
The cop pulled Sarah away and let the restraining hold go, wrapping an arm around her in a comforting way and taking her toward the ambulance.
House's arm was beginning to ache from the cop's firm hold but before he had a chance to even open his mouth to speak, Wilson pushed himself into the situation.
"Officer, my friend is certainly drunk, but he had nothing to do with what happened."
"What did happen?" House asked, angry now and starting to lose patience with being restrained.
"We're just establishing that sir," the cop said, obviously the "sir" tasting very nasty in his mouth. "We'd like you to stay around for a moment so we can hear your side of things." The cop pulled on House's arm again to ensure he had his attention. "If I let you go, are you gonna play nice?" he asked.
"Sure." House said between gritted teeth.
"Take care of your friend," he said warningly to Wilson. "Don't want either of you getting into any more trouble tonight."
"That's fine officer, we'll wait."
House was furious with Wilson's compliance, but bitter past experience with the wrong side of the law told him to bite his tongue. Seeming to feel House's resistance drop, the cop let him go. He left Wilson and House standing out the front of the bar just as two paramedics accompanied a stretcher from the alley to the ambulance.
"Wilson, find out what's going on." House said, rubbing his arm to restore the circulation. He couldn't do it himself. And he realised it was because he was afraid.
"I don't know House, those cops said to…" Wilson said, bending down to retrieve House's cane and hand it back to him.
House rounded on him, bringing every threatening gesture he'd ever learned into play.
"I don't care what the cops said. Go and find out what happened."
Wilson seemed to shrink from him and eventually sighed.
"Promise me you won't go anywhere."
In answer, House awkwardly sat down on the pavement, wincing at the cold concrete. It would quickly make his leg ache to stay there, but it seemed to satisfy Wilson.
He watched as Wilson walked away and then stared down at the concrete, spinning his cane in his hands, waiting for the report back. Trying hard not to jump to conclusions. After only a few minutes that felt like hours, Wilson returned, just as the ambulance sirens started and the vehicle drove away.
"She's been stabbed," Wilson said, knowing there was no point sugar-coating. "There are defensive knife wounds on her hands and she's been stabbed in the stomach and neck. Obviously lost a lot of blood. They're taking her to Princeton Plainsboro and I called the ER to let them know she was on the way."
House frowned. He knew there would be more.
Wilson shrugged in response. "That's all I know; it's all they'd tell me," he said helplessly. "But I noticed her purse on the gurney."
House nodded. They both knew what that meant – he definitely hadn't been trying to rob her, although it was naïve to think that might have been his motivation anyway.
"The geek?" House asked.
"They don't have him, but they're searching for him now. Sarah gave them a full description before she went off in the ambulance with Jen. They'll follow up with her in the hospital and they want to talk to us too."
House rose with a grunt from both the pain in his leg and the spinning of his head. "They can talk to us at the hospital as well."
"I don't think so House…"
"Go, talk to them, convince them. You're better at that than I am." House knew that Wilson wasn't going to be intimidated into doing his bidding again. The only weapon left in his arsenal was flattery.
Wilson gave House a sympathetic look that told him his ploy had won, and went back over to the officer to discuss the situation. He watched as Wilson handed over a business card and showed his hospital ID. Whatever he said, he then saw the cop nod and wave him off. They had a crime scene to secure and a criminal to find, it would be hours before they'd be ready to speak to witnesses.
"Come on, we can get a cab down the road," Wilson said as he returned.
"Was she okay, Wilson?" House asked quietly as they began to walk away from the scene.
"I don't know House," Wilson answered sadly. "I don't know."
They passed a some trash on the road and House put out a hand on Wilson's arm.
"Just a sec," he said, then turned and vomited violently into a trashcan.
Wilson shook his head. "That was probably fifty bucks worth of whisky, House."
"Yeah, I know." House wiped his mouth and nodded. "Let's go."
--
Wilson took House up to his office, not sure what else to do. He made him sit in the long recliner chair and promise not to move until he came back. Wilson then made his way down to the ER, pleasantly surprised to find Cameron on duty and spoke to her at length, getting an update on Jen and some supplies for House.
He returned to the office with an IV bag of dextrose solution, a strong coffee and some Vicodin and anti-nausea tablets. And an icepack.
"Hey, House, wake up." Wilson pulled House's desk chair over next to House and shook his arm gently.
"I'm awake," House grumbled, opening his eyes to watch as Wilson prepared the IV. "What are you doing?"
"Old med school trick," Wilson confessed. "Your hangover will be done in an hour or so, instead of the next couple of days. Roll your sleeve up. You're lucky Cameron was in the ER and she understood the…uh…special circumstances."
House rolled up his sleeve and Wilson inserted the IV, hanging the bag from the coat rack that he pulled over to the chair.
"Put this on your face." He handed House the icepack.
"What? Why?" House looked confused.
"I think Sarah gave you a shiner. Your right eye. Put the pack on it."
House winced as he held the cold pack to his face, seeming not to have noticed the pain there until Wilson told him about it.
"And I've got Vicodin and Compazine, a coffee and an old-fashioned glass of water. Here."
House took the glass and swallowed the meds quickly. He lay back and closed his eyes and took a few levelling breaths. Wilson thought he was probably feeling nauseous again. He rose to grab the trash can from under House's desk, just in case.
"So, what aren't you telling me?" House asked, without opening his eyes.
"She's in surgery," Wilson began, knowing exactly what House was asking. "The stomach wound isn't too bad. It might have nicked the bowel, but they won't know until they get in there. Otherwise it was pretty clean and they think they can get it stitched up easily. The neck was more serious, the knife got her carotid. From the sounds of things, he was holding the knife to her throat when Sarah interrupted. He sliced Jen and ran away. If Sarah hadn't put pressure on it straight away, Jen would have bled out. She has lost a lot of blood and was tachycardic when they took her up to surgery."
House snorted and Wilson knew what he was thinking. Her injuries were almost identical to his when he was shot. Except for one thing.
"And?" House asked.
"She wasn't raped," Wilson said quietly. "Sarah interrupted him. He didn't have time."
House just nodded and kept his eyes closed.
"They're paging me when she's out of surgery."
Wilson sat back, feeling slightly dizzy. He probably could do with an IV bag himself, but at least he could go home. House needed to be awake and sober to deal with the fall out in the next few hours.
Wilson's mind kept replaying the image of House's comic shushing as they both looked around the corner of the bar and into the alley. The bastard probably had the knife against Jen right as they were watching. If only…
"House…" Wilson started.
"Don't," House interrupted warningly.
"Don't what?" Wilson asked, wondering how on earth House could know what he was going to say.
"Don't 'what if' me now. I can't deal with it."
"Yes, but…"
"Wilson," House interrupted. "You can lecture me halfway into next week if you want. But tomorrow, okay? Tomorrow, when we know she's gonna be all right."
Wilson sighed. "Yeah, tomorrow."
