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: I hope everyone had a great Christmas. Sorry I'm taking so long to upload this. I hope to get it finished soon. Thanks for all the reads and reviews, please keep them coming.
Rating for chapter is still M.
Disclaimer: I don't own House or any of its characters (wishes she owned Dr House)
After his meeting with Bowman and Cuddy, House made his way up to Wilson's office. If anyone was the next target in the freaks sick little game, he suspected it would be Wilson. If he was wrong and the next target was Cuddy or indeed himself... he didn't know what he would do. If House was the next person the killer was going to take, then in a way he would be thankful that Cuddy and Wilson were spared, but he wasn't willing to bet that the bastard would be that merciful. They all had police escorts with them of course but House knew how easily the killer could deal with those.
He didn't bother to knock before entering Wilson's office and this came as no surprise to his best friend who barely glanced up from the paperwork he was filling in.
"You know one of these days when you burst in here unannounced I'm either going to be having sex in my office, doing aerobic exercises to a fitness video or taking drugs. And we both know how awkward that will make things between us," said Wilson looking up from his paperwork.
"Awkward? That's solid gold blackmailing material right there. You'd be doing my clinic hours for a month. I think I'll continue these little surprise visits. But don't let that stop you from continuing illegal activities in your office."
"Did the police find anything?" asked Wilson, steering the conversation in a more serious direction.
"Nothing as usual." The two men were silent until House's blue eyes met with Wilsons brown eyes and he said what he came to say, "Wilson?" Wilson looked at House and House continued. "I want you to stay with your police escort the entire time okay? Even if you just need to go to the store around the corner, the cop goes with you. Hell, even if you need to take a piss the cop should know about it. And even though he'll be guarding your door, keep it locked. The same goes for your windows and-"
"House," Wilson cut him off. "It's okay. I figured I might be the next one to be taken and don't worry, I'll take all the necessary precautions. I'll be safe with this cop; you need to start thinking about yourself."
"I'm fine. I'll start thinking about myself when I'm the next likely target. Just... be careful."
Wilson nodded his head. He knew there was so much more House wanted to say to him but couldn't. It was hard enough for House just to tell him to be careful. Wilson knew how concerned House was for him and Wilson felt the same way about House. He was already worried sick for Cameron, Chase and Foreman and he didn't know what he'd do if House was taken. The very thought made him nauseous. He just hoped to God this sick son of a bitch would be caught before more damage could be caused. He also hoped with all his heart and soul that Cameron, Chase and Foreman were still alive.
"I'll walk out with you later," Wilson offered. "That way you can tell my police escort to keep a close eye on me. He'll listen to you, what with your brilliant way with words and all."
House smirked. "Of course, me being the silver tongued charmer that I am, after words with me he'll guard you better than he would the President."
"I'll stop by your office when I'm finished later. Be careful on the way back now," Wilson said with a smile.
"Will you hold my hand Mommy?" House exclaimed sarcastically and made his way back to his own office.
House felt a little bit better after his conversation with Wilson. Not a whole lot better but a little. Maybe the freak would get caught this time, maybe he would be prevented from taking anyone else. He knew they needed a lucky break soon, there's only so much bad luck a person can take.
XXX
House awoke in a panic, wondering where he was. He calmed down when he realised he had fallen asleep in his office. He looked at the clock; it read 4:45pm. Wilson should be finishing soon. House remembered that he had fallen asleep making a mental list of all the people who held a grudge against him and all the patients who had complained about him. House didn't think that he'd been that much of an ass to anybody to deserve this, but as he'd learned from past experience, the smallest thing to him could be the biggest thing to someone else. There were some whackjobs out there who would kill you for spilling a cup of coffee on them.
After losing count of how many people he had thought of, the past few days took their toll on him and he fell asleep with his head on his desk. He massaged his neck which was now stiff as a board due to the awkward position he'd fell asleep in. He grabbed his Vicodin and swallowed them dry, willing the pain in his leg and injured hand to go on vacation for a while.
He decided he would go and see how long Wilson was going to be. Just as he was putting on his coat and picking up his backpack, Wilson appeared in the doorway.
"You ready?"
"It's about time!" House said, feigning outrage. "I have been asleep all day just waiting for you to finish your paperwork!"
"My heart bleeds for you House," Wilson replied sarcastically.
The two men made their way down to the lobby in the elevator and found Wilson's police escort sitting down reading a fishing magazine.
"Hey, where's my guy?" House asked, referring to his police escort.
"He's in the John, he'll be out in a minute," the cop, known as Andrews informed them.
"Oh how poetic. Well as it so happens, I need the "John" too so I'll tell my guy to hurry his ass up if I happen to see him."
"I just have to put some stuff in my car so I'll see you in a minute," Wilson told House.
House hobbled into the bathroom and relieved himself. His police escort, Hamilton, was washing his hands. As Hamilton passed him, he told House he would wait for him outside.
As House held his hands under the dryer after washing them, his mind began to wander again. He could see Chase, Foreman and Cameron in his mind. He could see their faces. What was happening to them right now? What was he doing to them? Were they being horribly tortured? Left in a windowless room to starve? Thrown into a deep, dark cellar for so long that the only outcome was madness? If he ever saw them again would they be the same people they were before they were taken? Or would they have been too mentally and physically scarred that their mentality would've snapped and their eyes would be forever lifeless? House hated not knowing and this speculation was doing nothing but making him feel worse. He realised that his hands had been dry for some time but he had gotten so lost in thought he had held them under the dryer regardless.
He grabbed his cane that he had propped up against the wall and made his way out the door. When he stepped out into the lobby he only saw Andrews and Hamilton... but no Wilson. Panic hit him like a bucket of water and he scanned the area quickly but to no avail.
"Where's Wilson?" he demanded of the two cops.
"He went to put some things in his car," replied Andrews motioning towards the parking lot at the front of the hospital. "He said he'll be back in two minutes."
"And you didn't go with him?!" House asked, his voice and ager rising.
"Relax, I can see him from here, he's right-" Andrews stopped in mid sentence when he realised he couldn't see Wilson any more.
House looked toward the parking lot, breaking out in a cold sweat. In a blind panic he began limping towards the doors as fast as he could, ignoring the pain in his leg and the shouting of the two cops behind him who had now begun to follow with their hands on their weapons. Despite his limp, House made it to Wilsons car before Andrews and Hamilton and stopped abruptly when he saw that the passenger's side door was open and papers and documents, Wilsons papers and documents, were strewn all over the floor, some blowing away in the cold night wind.
Behind him he heard one of the cops on his radio calling for backup and reporting Wilson as missing. He was briefly aware that the other one had gone to search the perimeter with his weapon drawn. But none of that mattered, nothing mattered but Wilson. House stood in a daze just staring at Wilson's car and noticed the note on the windshield. As if his body was on auto pilot House unfolded the note, his hands shaking violently and read the simple word that was typed up on the clean white paper.
SOON...
It was then that House broke free of the daze he was in and the realisation that his best friend had been taken hit him like a tonne of bricks. He began to shake all over and his head began to spin. He felt his legs go weak beneath him and fell to the pavement on his knees, sending an excruciating pain up his leg and vomiting on the floor beside him. This can't be happening. Not Wilson, not James, please no! House began to breathe very heavily and knew he had to get himself under control but he could just see Wilson being dragged off into the dark by this sick freak and he found that getting under control was going to be nothing short of a miracle. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to see that it was Hamilton. He turned his attention back to the pavement and tried to focus and calm down. He looked at Wilson's papers that littered the floor and noticed five small drops of blood on one of them. He felt a stab of fear in his stomach and knew that it had to be Wilsons. He touched it, it was still warm.
With the help of Hamilton he got himself to his feet and made his way into the hospital to sit down.
"I've got a team on their way over here right now and a whole lot of cops out there looking for the bastard, he can't have gotten far. We'll find him House. I'll go and get you some water, just stay here."
House barely heard a word of what Hamilton said. He was thinking about what just happened. Why the Hell didn't Andrews go with Wilson to his car? He was more interested in reading his damn magazine. Why the fuck did I have to go to the bathroom? If I would have just gone with him none of this would have happened, House thought angrily. House couldn't help but blame himself for the whole thing. He should have been looking out for Wilson but he failed him, just like he failed Chase, Foreman and Cameron. He didn't know how much more of this he could take. He wished the bastard would come for him now. He wished he would take him away, take him to wherever he was holding the others just to know what had happened to them.
House thought about how he liked to tease Chase at every opportunity and how he knew Chase looked up to him and respected him, despite how much of an ass House was to him. He thought about how he enjoyed it when Foreman would challenge his theories at every turn and remind House of himself sometimes, even though Foreman would be horrified at the thought. He thought about how kind and caring Cameron was, even if it did annoy him endlessly at times. How beautiful she looked when she came into work every day. He thought about the countless good times he'd had with Wilson. How Wilson was probably the only person in the world who could tolerate House's sarcasm and misery and despite it all still thought he was a pretty okay guy. House could feel all the emotion building up inside him, the rage, the anger, the sadness, the desperation and he didn't know what to do. So he did the only thing he could do, he buried his head in his hands, let it all out and he cried, he cried for them all...
He stands admiring his collection and his latest addition. It's getting more perfect with each person he adds. It's almost a shame that he has to kill them all, but it must be done. He wonders how he will kill each of them. Of course he could just shoot each and every one of them or slit their throats but that would be no fun. He's had so much fun so far and wants to continue to do so right until the very end.
He stares at them all and listens to their sobs and heavy breathing. He wants to take a souvenir from each of them before he kills them. He will have all aspects of their personalities once he takes their souls. He thinks back to all of the people he has killed. Every one of them had been special and even in death they remain a part of him. Every time he killed a person, a part of that person became one with him. He knew they did, he could feel it. It was the most euphoric feeling he had ever experienced and every time he killed someone and felt that beautiful feeling of their life slipping away in his hands and then becoming a part of him, he immediately needed that feeling again.
But now he wants to be cleansed, wants his soul purified. He feels dirty and infected with the souls of the prostitutes, crack heads, homeless people and drug dealers that he has killed and wants to be free of them. What better way to cleanse your soul than to take the souls of five doctors who save lives every day? But of course he wants to have fun with them. The more he makes them suffer, the stronger their souls become. If they can withstand the trials that he is to set for them, all the more sweeter it will be when he kills them.
He wants to take a loch of the blond one's hair as it is his best feature. Well, aside from his good looks but the killer wants to destroy that beauty not preserve it. He might burn the blonde ones face with a blowtorch and make House watch.
From the black guy he wants his hands. The killer wonders how many people's faces those hands have caved in when he was on the streets, and how many lives they have saved. Fighters hands and healing hands, it's the perfect trophy.
He had to think hard about what he wants from the woman. The first thing would certainly be her beauty but he of course wants to shatter her beauty so her face will be unrecognizable and it will be of no use to him then. Besides, he will get her beauty when he gets her soul so there is no need to keep her face in perfect condition and then chop off her head and keep it. Where is the fun in that? He decides to take all ten of her toes. He didn't notice until he took off her shoes and socks that she has the daintiest feet and the most elegant toes. Each toenail painted in a deep red and cut to perfection. He decides he will do it while she's still alive, maybe House can cut off one or two. He gets excited just thinking about how loud she will scream.
He looks at his latest addition strapped down on the bed, his deep brown eyes wide with fear. House's best friend who charms all the women, the Casanova of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. He can see why the women like him. A head of thick, light brown hair, brown puppy dog eyes, a strong jaw line and a charming smile. That's what he must take from Casanova; he must take some of his teeth. His smile is what draws the women to him, his honest smile and his warm and loving eyes. He will make Casanova smile for him and pull out his teeth one at a time. He can hardly wait but he must first get his prize possession. The one whose soul he wants the most, the one he wants to hear scream the most. It's time to go and pay Dr House a visit.
