Summary: A deadly and sadistic killer is on the loose and he's collecting Doctors. He has his deadly sights set on House, Wilson, Cameron, Foreman and Chase; he wants to add them all to his collection. Please read and review!
Authors note: Thanks for the reviews on my first chapter, I love reading them. Please keep them coming, they make me smile a lot :) Second chapter here, rating is still the same as the first chapter. No warnings.
Disclaimer: I don't own House or any of its characters (wishes she owned Dr House)
Chapter 2
House arrived at the conference room the next morning half an hour late. Foreman had beeped him an hour earlier telling him they didn't have a case again, so House couldn't stop sleep consuming him for an extra half an hour. Half an hour in bed, half an hour out of clinic duty, a win-win situation really.
House limped into the conference room and headed straight to the coffee. Cameron looked worriedly at House. "You're never normally late, are you okay?" She was always concerned, House thought. It was sweet but she shouldn't be so caring all the time, one day it could lead to her downfall.
"I'm fine," House replied. "Last night the voice of God told me in a dream that we probably wouldn't have a case today and told me to stop at Cuddy's office this morning and demand that she find us a case, all the while looking down her blouse. That's why I'm late today." House noted the sceptical looks on Cameron and Foreman's faces. "Okay, I made up the part about Him telling me to look down her blouse. That was all my idea."
Foreman was the first to challenge his theory as usual. "So by the voice of God you mean me beeping you this morning and telling you that we don't have a case again and by you confronting Cuddy you mean staying in bed for an extra half an hour and avoiding Cuddy at all costs. Although you probably will look down her blouse later."
House stared at Foreman feigning a look of open-mouthed amazement. "It's official: Foreman is God! HALLELUJIA! Boy, you're good Foreman." Cameron rolled her eyes and Foreman raised an eyebrow with that classic sceptic look of his.
"Well seeing as we don't have a case today I'm off to do more mundane work. Have fun in the clinic House," Foreman said with a smile as he exited the conference room. House cringed at the word 'clinic'. He also noted that there were only two of his ducklings here today. "Where's Chase?" he asked Cameron.
"I don't know. Normally he's here at 9:00 but he's over an hour late. Want me to call him?"
"No it's okay I'll do it. Go and get some work done," House replied, thinking that calling Chase would delay clinic duty even more.
Cameron left and House went to his office and dialled Chase's home number. After the fifth ring the phone was answered but nobody spoke. Instead all House could hear was a heavy breathing on the other end of the line. "Hello? Chase is that you?" The heavy breathing continued and House started to feel a little uneasy. If this was Chase joking around he would get the biggest pile of paperwork imaginable. "Chase if this is your idea of a joke then next time try a knock-knock joke when I knock on your door. Chase?" The breathing continued for a couple more seconds and then the line went dead. House put down the receiver and tried again but the phone didn't even ring this time. He then tried Chase's cell but to no avail.
House then dialled Cuddy's office number and after a few minutes being yelled at for being late and in his office instead of the clinic House managed to persuade her to send someone over to Chase's house to see if he was there. House of course volunteered to go himself but Cuddy wouldn't hear of it and told him he's been out of clinic duty long enough. He popped another Vicodin as the pain in his leg started to throb dully. The call to Chases home made House uneasy. It felt as if whoever was on the other end of the line was listening and enjoying making him feel that way. As House made his way to the clinic he thought Chase will be fine, it was probably some misunderstanding. But he couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't Chase he was listening to on the phone.
The only sound that could be heard was the blonde one's heavy breathing and terrified whimpers, muffled by the tape over his mouth. The man opposite him just stood and stared, a curl at each end of his lips forming a small, cruel smile. He enjoyed watching the blonde one cry in desperation and pull at his restraints as if he had a chance of escaping.
Most people, weak people, would break emotionally at the sight before him. They would feel fear, they would feel sick and their hearts would break. Not him though, he thought this sight was beautiful. He loved the way the blonde's sapphire-emerald eyes were wide with fear. He loved the way he was trembling and was struggling to breathe evenly through his nose, the tape making it difficult to keep his breaths even. He loved the way the sweat was running down his face and neck as he struggled, desperate to escape his nightmare. And most of all, he loved it when a tear fell from the blonde mans eye. How beautiful it would be to mix those tears with blood. He needed to hear this man scream, he needed to test his soul.
His footsteps sounded muffled as he walked over to the hospital tray in the corner of the room. He wheeled it over to where he had strapped the blonde one down to a hospital bed. The blonde one's cries and the sound of the tray wheeling across the linoleum floor made no effort to bounce their echoes off the white-washed walls. The room was soundproof, giving the impression that they were in a giant coffin, the dead trying to claw their way in from their muddy graves. He stopped the tray beside the blonde mans bed, uncovering a lot of shiny instruments which made the blonde one choke out a desperate sob and scrunch his eyes up tight. He will take the tape off his mouth when he inflicts the first wound and listen to him scream and scream and scream...
