Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

PPTH New Jersey, June 16th, 2006, at 10:00 am

Houses team sit across from each other at the glass table in the DDX office. It was a quiet morning…abnormally quiet. All 3 had been sitting there for a while, waiting for their jerk of a boss to come strolling in with some crazy, unexplained case. But so far that hasn’t happened.

“Should we just get started or-“ Chase says, breaking the silence.

“He’s probably just late.” Foreman replies cutting him off.

“He’s usually here by now, he’s late but he’s never this late.” Chase says.

“Maybe he’s just not coming in today, he said he’d be working late.” Cameron suggests.

Foreman shakes his head “a late night wouldn’t stop him from coming in, he’s been here in worse condition.”

“Did anyone see that his bike is still parked? Maybe he is here but he’s just hiding.” Chase asks.

“Why don’t we ask the person who basically attached to his hip.” Foreman suggests.

Theres a moment of silence between all of them before all saying at once:

“Wilson.”

                      ————

Foreman, Chase, and Cameron all walk together out of the office over to where Wilson’s is. They guessed he could have a pretty good idea of where House could be. Then again, with the ways House lived, he could be out in the Bahamas or getting stoned in some bar or doing extremely dangerous, not to mention, illegal things.

Foreman walks up to the door, but before he can even make contact with it, the door opens wide. A very stressed and anxious Wilson stands in the doorway, looking surprised at all of them.

“Do you know where House is?” He asks, concerned.

“No…we assumed you might’ve known where he is.” Chase says, furrowing his eyes.

“No, when I was leaving last night, I asked him if he wanted a ride home. He said no. I told him to message me when he got home but…nothing happened.” Wilson explains, shaking his head.

“His bike is still here, do you think he maybe got like a taxi?” Cameron suggests.

“No, no he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t just leave his bike here.” Wilson answers.

“Should we call the police?” Cameron says

“You’re jumping straight to that he’s missing?” Chase questions, rising an eyebrow.

“There has been no trace of him since last night, I think that might be a cause for concern.” Cameron shoots back.

Wilson lets out a shaky sigh “I should’ve made him come with me, I shouldn’t have let him say no…”

“Hey,” Foreman chimes in “nobody knew this was gonna happen. Standing around and feeling sorry for ourselves isn’t going to help the situation.”

Suddenly the elevator rings and the door opens, revealing Cuddy walking out. Before she can get a word in, Foreman starts.

“No we don’t know where House is, yes we’ve seen his bike is still here, and yeah we’re considering maybe he got abducted.” 

“Well…seems like everyone’s up to date, who was the person who saw him last?” She says. Everyone turns to Wilson.

“I didn’t see where he went I only said goodnight to him.” He tells her.

“We could check his apartment just incase.” Chase says.

“I don’t think it’s likely he’s going to be there…” Wilson responds.

“It’s not a terrible idea, I think we should cover all the bases, even if we’re not sure.” Cameron inputs, crossing her arms.

“I’ve contacted the police, they’re going to set up a scene around the parking lot looking for evidence. Don’t take too long at the apartment, I imagine they want to talk to everyone who was in contact with him last.” Cuddy explains to the three. With that information, they all scurry to the elevator, leaving only Cuddy and Wilson standing together.

There’s a beat of silence between them, it’s…awkward.

Wilson sighs loudly “what are we gonna do?”

Cuddy shrugs “let the police do their jobs and keep up with information.”

“I can’t just sit here and do nothing, he’s out there and he’s—he’s missing and…” Wilson trails off, running his hands through his hair.

“They will find him, it’s barely been even a day, he couldn’t have gotten far.” Cuddy reassures him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Wilson turns away, opening the door to his office.

“Let’s only hope you’re right.” He says before closing it behind him .

                      ————

House is barely half awake in the cell. He didn’t even remember passing out last night. The smell of dust and dirt and wood fill his nose, reminding him where he is. The throbbing in his head and leg remind him too, the pain seeming to worsen. The room is fairly dark, the only light coming through the door frame, the silhouette outlined by the sun. He feels hungry.

His eyes are starting to adjust to the darkness, the room becoming clearer. He switches from his side to his back, feeling a few pops and cracks as he shifts.

Not too long later, he hears the sound of a car outside.

Oh no.

After a moment, the door swings open, letting the light in from the outside. Tritters frame standing in the doorway. He walks up to the cage and starts banging against the hard parts of it with a cane, his cane, a loud metallic ringing fully making House awake.

“Morning Greg, how’d you sleep?” Tritters asks, full fake enthusiasm lacing his tone.

House sighs, closing his eyes tight, his head feels awful.

The banging starts again.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.”

House sits up, body screaming for more rest. He looks over at Tritter, glaring.   

“Better if it was with your mother.” House shoots back.

Tritter only chuckles, amused by Houses misery.

“I got something to show you this morning.” He says, pulling something out of his back pocket.

At first House is unsure what the item is, before realizing it’s a phone, and not just any phone, but his phone. His personal fucking phone.

“I got a few message on this thing last night and I thought we could look at them together!” Tritter snears.

House suddenly feels himself fill up with dread. Wilson said to message him last night.

Tritter presses a few buttons, the text section pops up.

“Unread messages, seems like your little boyfriend here is worried about you.” He says, looking over them.

House stays silent.

Tritter starts reading them out.

“Hey House, I’m about to go to bed, it’s close to 1:00. I haven’t heard anything from you yet which…that’s fine. Just get home safe.”

“Hey, it’s 9:00 am, if you’re not coming in should I tell Cuddy?”

“House where are you?? Your whole team is here, it’s close to lunch, are you okay?”

House feels his heart speed up in his chest. Wilson has noticed, and If he notices, then everyone else probably has too.

“Awh, isn’t that just nice, he cares so much about you.” Tritter mocks.

House barely hears the quip, just keeps replying the texts in his head, they could be thinking he’s dead right now. They might never find him, and hell if they do, it might be too late.

Suddenly the phone rings out with a ringtone. It’s the team. God they probably have no idea what they’re doing right now.

“Let me take that.” House demands.

Tritter scoffs, putting it back in his pocket.

“You think I’m stupid?” He says.

House sighs heavily “it’s my team. That’s their ringtone. Listen, I’m a doctor and if someone dies, that’s on your hands.”

“You have some pretty smart fellow’s on that team don’t you? I’m sure they’ll be fine.” Tritter says.

House doesn’t fight it. Of course Tritter would never let him take a phone call, not even if it’s urgent. He decides to try something else.

“I’m hungry. If you wanna keep me here at least let me eat something.” House says.

“I thought you’d complain about that.” Tritter says, pulling out an apple from his coat pocket.

House nearly drools at the sight, hes so fucking hungry.

Tritter opens the cage, House stand up and walks out. Tritter hands him the fruit, but before he can take it, Tritter throws it over his shoulder, it lands a few feet away from them.

“Go fetch.” Tritter says, patting House on the shoulder.

House rolls his eyes as he limps over to the fruit lying on the dirty floor. He didn’t care, he’d eat the bugs off the wall if he really had to. He bends down to pick it up, his hands nearly make contact with it before a boot slams into his ribs, knocking him to the side. Sharp, intense pain shoots out all over his chest, knocking the wind out of him. He gasps and wheezing, clutching the left side of himself. He sees the apple get kicked away in his peripheral vision.

“Aw what’s wrong? Did something happen?” Tritter mocks, tilting his head.

Another kick to the ribs makes his vision black at the edges, he can barely get any air into his lungs. It burns so bad. He tries to crawl away, using all the strength he has. A foot slams down on his leg, stopping him. He feels himself get pushed onto his back, belly up. Multiple kicks to the abdomen and ribs happen right after.

Eventually Tritter steps away, letting House get up as best he can, heavily using the wall as support.

“Wow, you’re weak, aren’t you.” Tritter says.

House stands shaking, sweat creating a sheen on his face. His whole frame is in agony, burning and aching all at once.

Tritter walks forward, slamming a boot directly into Houses scar. House feels himself crumple completely, pain so intense he sees dots in his vision, his stomach feel nauseated. He cries out, it’s a mix of a sob and a yell. House doesn’t think he’s even felt physical pain this bad since well…since the infarction first happened.

He breaths heavily, clutching his thigh, the breaths come out in short gasps. He can barely think straight. Tritter storms over, grabbing House by the hair and forcing him to look at him.

“What’s the rule?” Tritter demands, tugging harshly.

“W—wha—I can’t…” House stammers, brain not catching up.

“You make any noise, I’ll just beat you harder! You remember?” Tritter shouts in his face. House can’t even get words out, he just sits there, breaths coming out hitched.

A swift fist cracks against his face.

“Speak when you’re spoke to!” Tritter demands. House feels blood trickling down his face from his nose.

“Ye—yes I…I u—understand…” House stammers, voice quiet.

Tritter makes him stand up, practically dragging him by the back of his jacket. He shoves House back in the cell, watching him fall against the wall. Tritter goes and picks up the apple and brings it back, throwing it at Houses feet.

“Eat it.” Tritter snarls. He then slams the cage door and locks it. He does the same with the shack door as well, leaving House in darkness again.

He sits there on the floor, shaking still, body running high on adrenaline. He carefully takes his jacket off and then his shirt, hissing at the ache of his muscles.

His stomach and sides are covered with big dark bruises and boot prints. He pokes at them, flinching each time. At least he doesn’t think they’re broken. He puts them both back on, the layers giving him some sense of safety.

He huddles in the corner of the cage, knees up to his chest, making himself as small as possible. All he can feel is pain. It radiates all through his body, relentless and intense. He forces himself not to whine every time he shifts around.

He isn’t hungry anymore.