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: Sorry I'm taking a while to update this; just started Uni and things have been a little busy at the moment. Thanks so much for all the reads and reviews, I enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy writing this story.

Rating for this chapter has been moved up to an M for swearing and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own House or any of its characters (wishes she owned Dr House)

The first thing House was aware of when he awoke from a troubled sleep was the throbbing pain in his leg. The second thing he was aware of through the haze of pain was the phone ringing. He looked at the clock on the nightstand; it read 3:25 am. Who the hell could be calling at this hour? Before he even considered answering the phone he needed to find his Vicodin. It wasn't on the nightstand or anywhere on or under his bed. He got out of bed with a grunt of pain and hobbled towards the living room where the ringing of the phone got louder. As House was turning the sofa cushions upside down, his urgency increasing each time he didn't find his pills, the phone stopped ringing and his answering machine message began to play; "You've reached a number which has been disconnected and is no longer in service. If you feel you've reached this recording in error, go with it, hang up. On three: One, two..." The machine then beeped and a man's voice came on the line, "Dr House? This is Detective Bowman from the New Jersey State Detective Agency. I've been put in charge of the abduction cases involving your colleagues. If you're there please pick up, this is very urgent..."

House immediately stopped searching for his Vicodin and limped to the phone as fast as he could, ignoring the throbbing in his leg which was now at level eight on the pain scale. He answered the phone panting and sweating.

"Yeah this is House."

"Dr House are you okay? Your breathing sounds very laboured."

"Well you just caught me in the middle of a threesome with Pamela Anderson and Halle Berry. It has nothing to do with the fact that I'm a cripple who had to sprint to the phone to answer your call. Plus I couldn't find my Viagra."

Detective Bowman gave an exasperated sigh and continued, "I'm sorry for waking you Dr House but this is very urgent. I'm afraid I have some bad news; it looks like Allison Cameron has been taken from her home about an hour ago. The Officer who was stationed at her door has been murdered."

House felt sick, his whole body felt numb. He heard Bowman talking to him on the other end of the line but his voice was a distant echo, House couldn't concentrate on what he was saying. The phone began to tremble in his hand and he was gripping it with such ferocity that it was in danger of breaking. House forgot about everything, the pain in his leg, Bowman's voice, the cold sweat he had broken out into making him shiver, everything was forgotten but Cameron. Not Cameron, please not her. She was so sweet, so innocent, so caring and now that bastard had taken her. He would take away her sweetness, shatter her innocence and make her not care about anything anymore. The freak would take away everything that made Chase, Foreman and Cameron who they were and leave nothing behind but empty shells of human beings.

House began to shake not with fear this time but anger, he would get this son of a bitch if it was the last thing he did. His free hand was balled up into a fist so hard his fingernails were digging painfully into the palm of his hand. He was on the verge of losing it and forced himself to calm down. His breathing slowed down and his hand relaxed just a little. House willed himself to listen to what Bowman was saying.

"House are you there? Do you hear me?"

"I-I'm sorry Detective, what were you saying?"

"I said that about an hour ago an Officer went to Dr Cameron's apartment for the shift change with Officer Smith. When he got there he found Smith dead in the hallway from a stab wound to his heart and no murder weapon. When he entered Dr Cameron's apartment she wasn't there and he found a cloth lying on the floor with traces of chloroform on it and saliva. We've sent it over to the lab to get DNA tests on it to find out who the saliva belongs to but the most likely guess is that it's Dr Cameron's. The coroner said that Smith was most likely killed about 20-30 minutes before the Officer arrived on the scene for the shift change."

"So he couldn't have gotten far in that time, are you close to finding him?"

"We're checking all possible avenues now. CCTV tapes, witnesses and we're also working up a profile of this guy now. We're pretty sure it's the same guy who took Dr Chase and Dr Foreman."

"Pretty sure?"

"Well there is one inconsistency in regards to his other abductions; He hasn't left a note this time."

House was puzzled. The bastard always left a note at the scene of his crimes; he loved taunting House with his "you'll never catch me" attitude. It's not like it was a big loss or anything. The note probably would have been typed on Cameron's computer and he expected it would be the last verse of 'The Houses' which offered no clue to the freaks identity whatsoever. Maybe he just didn't have time to type one up this time.

"It's definitely the same guy; it's too much of a coincidence not to be."

"I agree and we've got our best people on the case. We'd like to speak to you as soon as possible with any latest developments and we have a few questions for you so we'll come and see you at the hospital tomorrow if that's okay."

"Yeah sure, thanks," said House half-heartedly.

"Okay, try and get some rest Dr House."

"I think the last thing I'll be doing tonight is sleeping Detective Bowman," exclaimed House and hung up.

House didn't know what to do. The events that had taken place in the last few days were taking their toll on him and he could feel himself gradually breaking down. He knew he had to stay strong and not let the freak get to him because that's exactly what he wanted but it was getting harder and harder each time another person was taken. He decided he would take a Vicodin, get a bottle of gin from the kitchen and just sit in the dark. No point in sleeping now and he wouldn't be able to even if he tried.

Now where the hell was his Vicodin? He scanned the room and his eyes came to rest on his piano and the bottle of Vicodin that was sitting on top of it. They weren't there before were they? Maybe they were and he didn't notice, he was after all preoccupied looking under the sofa cushions and the incessant phone ringing. He limped over to the piano and saw that not only were the Vicodin sitting on top of the giant instrument, but a white piece of paper as well. House knew immediately what the paper was and snatched it up sending the Vicodin tumbling to the floor. He read it with that familiar feeling of dread in his stomach.

'Twixt my house and thy house what talk can there be
Of headship or lordship, or service or fee?
Since my house to thy house no greater can send
Than thy house to my house -- friend comforting friend;
And thy house to my house no meaner can bring
Than my house to thy house -- King counselling King.

What a surprise, House thought. Again offers no clue of catching this bastard, just another dead end fucking riddle. But House noticed that there was also more writing on the back of the note and it wasn't just House's name this time.

HOUSE. Do not disappoint me and fail the first test I will set for you.

What first test? And then House got his answer as he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head and fell to the floor, hitting the piano on the way down. He lay on his back looking up at the ceiling which was spinning by this point. His vision was blurred and he felt something warm and sticky at the back of his head. Then a figure in black loomed over him, his face covered by a black gas mask that they use in the military. He had an object in each hand but House couldn't make them out as his vision was still blurry. He could hear the freaks excited breathing and wanted to scream for help but couldn't. It was as if his voice box was encased in ice, he just couldn't muster up any sound. Where the hell was the cop who was supposed to be guarding his door? The man in the mask knelt down beside House and touched his left hand through gloved fingers. House tried to pull away as the thought of this man touching him, even with gloves on, repulsed him. But his limbs felt as if they weighed ten tonnes and he could barely move. Just how hard had this guy hit him? The freak pulled out House's left hand so his arm was stretched out and his palm lay face up on the floor. The man in the mask then knelt on House's arm so he couldn't move it and picked up the tools he had had in his hands before. House tried to see what the man was doing but the freak was obscuring his view. House's breathing sped up and he started to sweat, what was he going to do to him? He felt something cold and hard touch the palm of his hand. He tried to call out for help, he tried to kick his legs, he tried to do anything that would get him out of this nightmare but he couldn't. But then he did scream as he felt an excruciating pain is his hand which travelled all the way up his arm. He screamed through gritted teeth as he felt it again, the pain becoming almost unbearable. Stay awake, he thought. Keep your eyes open and get a profile of this bastard, how tall he is, his build, age range. But the blanket of pain was covering him and he drifted away in its darkness.

XXX

House awoke and tried to lift his head but thought better of it when it started to throb. He looked around for the freak but guessed he must be gone. He's had his fun for the moment; he's had his little mind fuck. House tried to move his left hand which emitted another pained scream from him when a bolt of pain shot through his fingers and up his arm. He didn't want to look as he was scared at what he might see. But he had to; he had to assess the damage. He slowly turned his head to the left and let out a choked sob when he saw his hand. A screwdriver had been embedded into the palm of his hand and into the floor underneath. Beside his hand was a hammer lying in a small pool of blood.