House M.D. Fanfiction: Held Hostage (3/21)
Title: Held Hostage
Author: pgrabia
Disclaimer: House M.D., its character’s, locations, and storyline are the property of David Shore, Bad Hat Harry Productions and Fox Television. All Rights Reserved.
Characters/Pairing: G. House, J. Wilson, L. Cuddy, random characters from canon and OCs/House/Cuddy established; House/Wilson Pre-slash/slash.
A/N: This story runs AU, what I would like to see happen if House and Cuddy should ever plan to get married. I’m sick of Huddy already-it’s completely ruined the show-so if you like Huddy, then you’ll hate this and you might as well move along to another fic.
Also, I want to give a big thank you to George Stark II for being my ever patient beta!
Genre: Drama/Romance.
Spoiler Alert: This story involves spoilers for all seasons of House M.D. up to and including Season Seven, Ep. Ten.
Word Count: ~ 1400
Rating: M (NC-17) for Adult subject matter, coarse language, violence, drug and alcohol use, and explicit sexuality.
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Held Hostage
Chapter Three
It was déjà vu.
House opened his eyes slowly as his mind emerged from his drug-induced unconsciousness. It was dark but not completely. Around him was a dim green glow and occasionally there were flashes of bright white light that seemed to stream past his left periphery. As he woke up a little more he could feel vibration underneath and around him and he could hear a low hum. His vision, which had been blurred at first, was clearing. He was reclined slightly in a seat. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly he realized that he was sitting in a car, at night, and it was moving.
He turned his head to the left and saw Wilson sitting in the driver’s seat, staring straight ahead. They both still wore their tuxedoes except the driver had removed his tie and had opened the top two buttons of his shirt.
House tried to figure out exactly what had happened and why he was in a car with Wilson heading wherever instead of an airplane with Cuddy on their honeymoon. He remembered getting dressed, driving to the hotel and meeting up with his best friend. Together they went to a quiet men’s room where Wilson helped him with his tie and tried to ease his fears. The younger man had pulled a flask of scotch out of his inside breast pocket and went to take a drink but House had taken it from him and downed most of it. Wilson had been asking him if he was certain that he wanted to go ahead with the wedding and then…he woke up just now.
Wilson had dosed him and abducted him-again. The question was, why?
Shit, House thought suddenly, Lisa’s going to kill me!
“Why?” he asked, still slurring a little. He startled the younger man who apparently hadn’t noticed that he was waking up. Wilson settled quickly and glanced over at him from time to time as he drove.
“You’re awake,” he said and then asked House evenly, “How are you feeling?”
“Dopey and pissed off,” was the reply. The intention had been to sound angry and intimidating but it had come out sounding exhausted and goofy. “Answer my question.”
“What was your question?”
“Wilson,” House said warningly, glaring at him with icy blue eyes. He found the seat release lever and raised the back of the seat.
Sighing, Wilson shrugged and avoided the diagnostician’s gaze. “I had to stop you from making one of the biggest mistakes of your life. I enabled you to become addicted to Vicodin. I’ve been enabling you to kill who you are slowly and I don’t want to enable your self-destruction any longer.”
House’s brows drew together in confusion. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m getting married, not shooting myself up with heroin. It’s a positive step, not self-destructive.”
“You’re wrong,” the oncologist told him, shaking his head. “For months I’ve tried to be supportive of you and your relationship with Cuddy, even though I had huge reservations about it. I told myself that in spite of all of the hurtful shit she pulled on you over the past year she may have changed and being with her might be good for you. I stood back and said nothing when I saw how she began manipulating you by using her disapproval, the withholding of sex and hints that your relationship might be over. You came to me over and over again confused, frustrated, and afraid and I wanted to say something then, but I didn’t. I wanted to be a good best friend, so I gave you advice that I thought would help. It didn’t. She kept using your insecurity and love against you to change you, alter you. She’s been trying to fix you and in the process she’s been breaking you. I had to do something to make it stop before she destroyed my best friend.”
House’s eyes narrowed, not wanting to accept what he was being told. “You’re wrong. She’s not trying to fix me. She does love me the way I am.”
Wilson began to chuckle derisively at that, raising the older man’s defenses.
“I don’t know where you got that idea, but you’re the one who’s wrong,” House was told. “She’s been trying to change you from the start because obviously she has never thought you were good enough the way you are. Slowly, bit by bit, she’s been wearing you down with her pouts and threats and you-you give in to her time and time again! You’re terrified to say no and stick to it. No, if you don’t want to obey her like a good lap-dog then you back off and lie to her, hiding behind it in the hope that she won’t find out and cut you off or otherwise punish you. It’s working, too. You’re no longer the brash, egotistical, cynical, argumentative, brilliant and ground-breaking man you were before. She’s cowed you, made you afraid of your own shadow, submitting to things that at one time you never would have submitted to.”
“She’s not a manipulator!” House nearly shouted. “She loves me-she’s helping me get better!”
“She’s trying to destroy Greg House and mold you into Greg House 2.0!” Wilson snapped back. House noticed how the younger man’s knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel very hard. “You were getting better-without her, and if I hadn’t been such a dick-head when it came to Sam you would have continued to get better without her. She doesn’t think you’re good enough to be a responsible partner and father to Rachel and apparently has no faith in you to get there on your own. Open your eyes, House. She’s behaving just like Cameron only less obviously.”
House clenched his fist. It wasn’t that he wanted to hit Wilson, exactly-he just wanted him to shut up. He didn’t want to hear all of that because it only echoed his own doubts of the past year which he’d worked so hard to push aside; he’d forced himself to abandon them because of his need to make this relationship succeed. Wilson’s reminders only nullified all of the hard work he’d done.
“Have you ever considered the possibility,” House asked him softly, angrily, “that I need to be fixed? I’m broken, Wilson. I’ll never be good enough for anyone. She’s at least willing to give me a chance. If that means she forces me to get better, then it’s worth it.”
Wilson put on his right signal, pulled over to the side of the road, and parked. Turning in his seat to face him he looked at House with a combination of regret and something else. Whatever it was it went beyond fondness, but how far beyond House wasn’t certain he wanted to know.
“You’re not broken, Greg,” the oncologist told him gently, using his first name-something he almost never did. “You don’t need to be fixed by her into what she thinks is the perfect man. You’re good enough just the way you are. Are you perfect? No…but who the hell is? Who wants to be? If you feel there are areas where you need to heal then work on them on your own terms, not hers.”
The diagnostician was very confused. Everything Wilson was telling him sounded right and most of it resonated as true, but was it? If he had been good enough as he was, why had he continually ended up alone and miserable? All he wanted was to be happy and not be left behind. Cuddy was his last chance. How could he let that go? He met his best friend’s gaze and was captured by it, as he always was. He wanted to believe him…but he couldn’t.
“If I’m good enough,” House whispered, diverting his gaze down to his hands on his lap, “then why do I always end up alone?” He sighed and blinked back the extra moisture he felt accumulating in his eyes. “Take me home, Wilson. I’m getting married. I have to.”
Wilson shook his head in defiance. He sat back around, turned on his left signal light, and when it was safe he pulled back onto the highway. “No, you don’t,” was all he said in reply.