The next day she seemed to be a walking statue. No cheery greetings. Just an air of preoccupation. She seemed to avoid House, so he didn't see much of her at all. He was going to stay late and did, hoping to catch sight of her.
He was working on a report when there was a tiny tap on the door. He looked up. Everyone was gone for the day. Except her. She was looking at him with a shamefaced expression. He waved her in. "Ok let's see. No I can't make out any prescriptions since you aren't sick, you're really doing well, remember? Falling in the floor, that was normal. And no I haven't had dinner yet because I haven't left the office, no, I am not hungry because I've got too much work piled up to my eyebrows, and yes, you can sit your butt down right there since I don't feel like getting up to peel you off the floor when you faceplant shortly, judging by the way the blood in your cheeks has vamoosed."
A hint of a smile crossed her face then was gone. "Hi, I just brought these files in."
House studied her a moment, then waved to the table with his cane, motioning for her to leave the files on the table. "I need a hug."
For a moment she was taken aback. Him? Tough, obnoxious House asking for a hug? "Well ok," she said gruffly. "Is this going in your harassment lecture?" She shuffled over and he put his arms awkwardly around her. She put her head on his shoulder and they hugged then she stepped away. House, having an ulterior motive, had noticed something unusual.
"Hey girl."
She didn't turn around. "I have to go now. I have to leave House." She stumbled quickly toward the door.
"Mina." House used her real name to stop her.
She hesitated. He never used her real name. House stood and walked over to her placing an unusually gentle hand on her shoulders and letting it run down her back. The student doctor's coat was uneven, lumpy. As if... "Mina, are you okay?" She dropped her head as he slowly, parentally slipped his hands under her coat and top. His hands met cotton wrapping. "Mina?" He asked, not daring to move further. Mina reached a hand up as if brushing away tears. Then her breath caught in her throat. She was sobbing. House turned her around and she fell against him. HIs cane clattered to the floor as he balanced there, confused, one hand instinctively holding her head against his shoulder. It was highly awkward for him. But there was also a knot of fear, confusion and concern growing in his stomach and he did not like it. When she caught her breath, he spoke again in a firm voice that would not be denied this time. "Mina, tell me."
She pulled away, pulling her arms close to her chest. "He- he beats me," she managed to say.
House raised his eyebrows, not having expected her to answer, and so bluntly. "Who? The milkman, paperboy, jealous boyfriend? The guy at the laundromat? I don't feel like running through every two legged male idiot option in the book so you're gonna have to help me out here." He bit his tongue. That rowdy House side.
She sobbed again. "My foster dad." House felt a cold wave of fury wash over him. Domestic abuse made him highly volatile. But he would deal with that later.
"He doesn't want me to go to med school, okay?" She spoke hurriedly, beginning to pace. House leaned against the desk, crossing his arms to listen. "He doesn't want me to be a doctor. That is a job better suited for men, he says. He says women are weak and men are strong, and it's his job to show me just how weak I am. After I met you, I almost thought he was right. But then I kind of discovered he and you were too very different people, and you were okay, and he was wrong, and he got really mad when I took this internship and said he would make my life a living hell, and he has, because every time I go home he is waiting for me, and that's why I can't let anyone come over even though several team members have asked and I feel like a heel cause I keep saying no, but I can't risk him injuring one of them, and who knows what he would do to them, and he just doesn't know when to stop, and it's a nightmare, and I don't know how to make it stop." She finally stopped talking with a bitter sob, standing in front of House, hair in disarray from absentmindedly running her hands through it as she ranted. House nodded almost imperceptibly.
He pointed at the floor. "Hand me my cane?"
She looked slightly taken aback, but she reached down and picked it up between two fingers and held it out. He took it in his fist. "Come on." He opened the door, his cane in the other hand and turning toward her, holding the door open for her to follow him.
"Where are we going?" She asked quietly, a faint mistrust on her tear-stained face.
"I want to see what he's done to you, is that ok?"
She hesitated. "Don't tell anyone ok?"
House looked angry for a moment. "A dumb excuse for a human is beating my favorite student to pulp and I'm not supposed to say anything?"
She wiped tears away, not realizing she was wiping away her now damp makeup that was slowly revealing a harshly bruised face. "House if you do, then the system will send me back to California and then I can't intern here and I will have to start all over again, and I just can't do that - ."
House looked down at her, silencing her with a finger across her lips. With his thumbs he firmly, but gently, wiped away tears and makeup. A painful wince crossed her face and though she tried to hide it he didn't miss it. "Let me see the damage then we will work on the terms of the deal," he said quietly, to stall agreeing with complete silence.
She dropped her head and nodded, and allowed him to lead her to an empty exam room. "Sit down on the table, coat off," he said softly. He was busy getting stuff together, pulling open drawers and cabinets behind her. She didn't have the energy to oversee his actions, and merely sat there, slumped, completely exhausted. When he was ready, he moved back to where she sat, focused on her back where the bandages had been and without hesitation he pulled up the blouse she wore and gazed down at the bandages. Carefully he began removing them, trying not to focus on the discolored skin that wasn't bandaged, hinting at abuse that was much older than what he was about to find.
What the bandages revealed made him pause to take a deep breath. Deep bruises and welts littered the white, sensitive skin. He shook his head. He was going to kill the bastard. Hesitating only for a moment, he pushed the blouse up to her shoulders, bunching it around her neck to keep it out of his way. Hand print bruises, scratches, and more welts covered the skin, some marks already fading. "Why didn't you come to me sooner?" He asked, prodding gently for broken bones.
"Didn't think anyone would care." She replied quietly, head tilted forward dejectedly, intern coat twisted in her hands. "Tried the system and they told me I was overreacting."
House shook his head. "What morons they turned out to be." He began applying an antibiotic healing cream and a burn ointment to the battered skin. She would jerk reflexively when his fingers dragged over the burns and he could tell it was smarting by the flush of the skin. Once she was bandaged up again, House stood for a moment looking down at her. She meekly looked at him. There was silence for a little while, their eyes doing the talking. Her shoulders were slumped, and her posture accepting. He felt like this is what an animal in a trap would look like when it knew its life was doomed. It wasn't a feeling that he liked. She no longer expected him to keep her secret. That didn't bode well for her career.
House peeled off his gloves and tossed them into the garbage can. "You're coming home with me," he spoke firmly. She started to stammer a response but he held up his hand. "No. You are definitely coming with me." He held out his hand. "Off the table, exam's over." Picking up his cane, he walked out of the exam room and did not look back. Somehow he knew she would follow. And somehow, he was right.
The ride to House's residence was dead silent.
"He's going to kill me when he finds out." She finally remarked faintly, glancing sideways at the stiff figure driving them to his home.
House nodded agreeably. "He's going to kill you sooner or later anyway, so you think it's better to get it over with then?" he asked sarcastically, parking his car in the driveway.
"That's not fair, House." She mumbled weakly, leaning her head back against the seat. "I am not trying to be difficult."
He looked away, raising his eyebrows. "Life isn't fair, Mina. Get used to it."
"I am very used to it," she grumbled, climbing out of the car.
House grimaced in the darkness. A twinge of guilt for that comment poked at his nerves, and he pursed his lips.
"Touche." He nodded, conceding defeat.
He threw open the door to his residence and tossed his coat on the counter of the kitchen.
"Make yourself at home. There is orange juice in the fridge and towels in the laundry room. You will walk yourself and feed yourself, so don't bother me unless something bad happens, and if it does, only if there is blood and gore. Makes it more exciting."
He entered his bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him.
Confused, she nodded silently at the closed door, and sank down onto the floor, her back to the kitchen island. There were so many emotions running through her head, so much confusion. The relief of not having to endure a beating tonight carried her tired body away, and before she knew it, she was asleep, still leaning on the counter in the floor. That is where House found her the next morning.
He stood looking down at her. If he touched her, to wake her up, he might send her into a panicked frenzy. Or it might be okay. Shaking his head, he decided to just start breakfast.
She awoke to the sound of dishes and frying bacon. Grunting, she tried to get up out of the floor, shocked she had managed to sleep. Her foot was asleep and her back ached.
"Today is my day off." A deep voice spoke from above her. "Lucky you, that means you get breakfast instead of the donuts that Thirteen sneaks past the admin's station."
She looked up, confused, to see House gazing down at her, one hand extended to her. She gingerly took it and let him pull her up, choking on trying not to make any sound, hopping on the one foot that wasn't asleep. Man her back was killing her.
"Floor's a bit hard. Didn't pick any of the upgrades, they left the carpet off. Pick the couch next time," He said as he turned back to the stove.
She nodded wearily, and sat down on the couch, putting her face in her hands and resting her elbows on her knees. She was exhausted. She didn't hear House's snide "Breakfast or no, princess?"
She was losing it mentally. The room was drifting away. The pain was becoming unbearable and she felt sick. Her head hurt. If she could just lay down, it would be all okay. She felt herself drifting further away, the room dimming and a strange ringing in her ears drowned out the frying of the bacon. Just a mild roar, the world around her seemed to be coming to a halt, her eyes burned, and her skin felt as if it was on fire.
House was watching her, concerned. She wasn't acting right. Pale, fevered glaze in the eyes, favoring her injuries, dazed, pointing toward an infection. Had to be. Suddenly, she toppled over on the floor, not seizing, but shaking uncontrollably. With enough mental presence to turn off the stove, he rushed to her side. "Now, now, just brilliant - that is not how you were supposed to start the day. I have plans, and I am not letting some waif off the street ruin them because my soft heart grew two sizes last night. I have a oncology case to solve on my couch." He blabbed on and on as he knelt and quickly examined her. She was shaking, teeth chattering, from cold or pain he didn't know for sure but he guessed pain. He laid a hand on her head and found it aggressively hot. Her arms and legs were cool. He touched her back and found it hot too. Oh great. Yep. Infection.
"Well, I guess we are both taking the entire day off, my dear. Great, I wanted to catch up on my bo-o-ring reading anyway. Have you ever tried Harry Potter? It does wonders for the mental state. Puts you in a dumb stupor in minutes, better than tranquilizers."
He picked up his phone. "Thirteen? My house in ten. Got a case to discuss." He tossed the phone to the side.
"We've got company coming," he chatted on, throwing pillows onto the couch and shaking out the afghan to lay across it. "Misery looooves company."
He knelt in front of Mina again, who was still shaking, but watching him with a dazed expression, eyes half closed, struggling to follow his conversation. "Let's go." he held out a hand.
She took it, confused, and startled when he picked her up in his arms. The next thing she knew, she was stretched out on the couch, facing him, her face scrunched in pain from the sudden moves. She barely noticed him setting up Iv's and medication drips, vaguely wondering if the hospital knew he had all this equipment at his house. Then he was at her side, pulling her arm flat across his knee, wrapping something rough and stretchy around her upper arm. It bit into the skin for a moment, then faded into all of the other pains. She mentally recalled the steps to setting up an IV and determined that he was going to insert an IV into her elbow, but right now she didn't care. His hands were firm, but gentle, and she faintly heard a gruff apology and the needle stung for a moment, then the elastic band was loosened, tape was applied, and her arm was then laid beside her. The room was beginning to weave from side to side, and all she could hear was static. She had long given up trying to understand his chatter. Heat enveloped her body, as if an internal fire had taken over, and her teeth ached from chattering. She didn't have enough brain power to realize what was happening. All she knew was she was fading out, and the last thing she saw was worried blue eyes looking down at hers.