House M.D. Fanfiction: Held Hostage (19/21) Pt. 1
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: ~4700 including introduction.
Rating: M (NC-17) for Adult subject matter, coarse language, violence, drug and alcohol use, and explicit sexuality.
Held Hostage
Chapter Nineteen
House looked at the clock on the night stand: 1:14 a.m. He and Wilson had gone to bed around ten-thirty and both had fallen asleep quickly enough but just before midnight House’s leg had begun to cramp and woke him rudely with the associated pain. At that time he’d found that neither one of them had moved much in their sleep. Wilson was still wrapped in his arms only now his head rested heavily on House’s chest and one of his legs was draped over the older man’s good leg. He snored lightly and despite the pain House just lay there for several minutes, immensely enjoying the way it felt to be cuddled up with his best friend this way. It felt completely natural, like they had slept this way together for the entire length of their friendship. If not for the pain, House would have been quite aroused as well and the sensation of Wilson’s body pressed up to his and warming him made him feel secure.
When he couldn’t tolerate the pain anymore House slowly and gently began the process of disentangling himself from the other man, trying his best not to wake him. He was just about free when the oncologist moaned and then slowly opened his eyes. He looked blurrily at House with sexy brown irises looking black in the barely there lighting of the bedroom.
“Mmph-huh? House? Are you ok?” Wilson rolled onto his back, freeing House, who then moved to sit on the edge of the bed facing away from him. The diagnostician was rubbing vigorously at his damaged thigh.
“I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”
Wilson sat up, watching the bleary image of House’s shadow in the dark. He rolled toward the bedside table and turned on the small lamp. Then he crawled out of bed and went to the en suite bathroom. A few moments later he returned with House’s ibuprofen and a glass of cool water. Waiting until House took them and emptied the glass Wilson then returned them to the bathroom. When he returned he knelt on the floor in front of his best friend, facing him.
“Gee, Wilson, thanks but tonight I’ve got a leg cramp. Can I have a raincheck?” House asked him, smirking briefly before another cramp seized the ruined muscle tissue and damaged nerves. He grimaced but refused to cry out although he came close to it. Goddamned fucking leg!
“How bad?” Wilson asked, feeling somewhat stupid for having done so-obviously it was bad-but House understood what he meant.
“A strong eight,” was the answer growled through gritted teeth. Beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead and upper lip, and drops of it rolled down his back. This was the worst it had been in months.
Wilson gently pushed House’s hands away. “Here, let me try,” he said as he watched House for a sign of assent. It came in the form of a single, almost imperceptible nod of his head. Wilson began to massage the gnarled skin and tissue. He could feel the muscles cramping ruthlessly beneath his hands; he strongly kneaded at the knots that had formed. He wasn’t gentle but that was fine as far as House was concerned; when the cramping and pain got this bad a good, hard massage was exactly what the doctor ordered. House had his eyes closed, a stray tear sliding out of the corner of his eye and rolling over his cheekbone and cheek. He really wasn’t crying, but the pain was so intense that it was causing his eyes to tear up.
The oncologist worked tirelessly on the knots until they began to give way under the force of his hands. As the cramping began to stop, so did the pain. House placed a hand on Wilson’s shoulder as a signal for him to stop as well as a gesture of thanks.
“You know,” House said, his breathing beginning to even out again, “now that the leg is better and since you’re already down there…” He wagged his eyebrows.
“You should only be so lucky,” Wilson told him with a weak glare, rising to his feet. “Should I run you a hot bath?”
House shook his head, his eyes drooping. Leg cramps and the pain that went with them were exhausting and all he wanted was to go back to sleep. He lay back down, pulled the blankets up and then patted the space next to him as a silent command for Wilson to join him.
Wilson hesitated. “House, maybe I should go back to my own room…”
Frowning, the older man asked. “Why? What’s wrong?”
A blush appeared on Wilson’s cheeks. “I really enjoyed laying with you but-“
“But what?”
With a sigh Wilson sat on the edge of the bed. “I enjoy it too much,” he answered, avoiding House’s gaze.
“Oh.” House stared up at the ceiling and both of them were silent for a moment. “If it’s any consolation, I think I’m too tired to enjoy it that much tonight. Earlier, before the cramping, however, I was ready and able to enjoy it immensely, but now I just really want to get some sleep. So you’re safe from molestation for tonight.”
A devious smile appeared and Wilson said, “Oh, I wasn’t concerned for my safety.”
House grinned. “Well, I give you permission to have your way with me while I’m sleeping so long as you don’t wake me up.”
A chuckle escaped from the younger man but he sobered quickly. “I’m serious, House. I can’t, um, well, relax…when I’m that close to you. It wouldn’t be right with Cuddy waiting back in Princeton.”
Cuddy…House had mixed emotions when he thought of her now. Her efforts to become pregnant because she’d felt it was time for her to become a mother. That’s what she’d told him, all the while keeping from him the fact that she already had been a mother-of his child, no less-and had purposely misled him. All the angst that surrounded her attempts to get pregnant and then to adopt when the fertility treatments had failed to work, their kiss in the foyer of her home when Joy had been taken from her…He’d pitied her, hadn’t told her that was why he’d been there in the first place. Now they were engaged and she still hadn’t told him the truth about Roger and the way she’d tricked him into believing House’s daughter was his and the fact that she’d signed away Jayne like she was a puppy being given up to a humane society instead of her daughter; their daughter. It irked him that she had put him through the wringer for lying to her about a test result so he could save his patient’s life but she had been lying to him for years about the existence of his daughter.
Well, House was pretty certain he didn’t want to be with Cuddy now knowing what he knew. Especially when he knew that the the thperson he loved ten times more than he ever had her had confessed that he loved and wanted House too. He could tolerate a great deal, but blatant hypocrisy he couldn’t.
“When I return to Princeton-” House began but he was interrupted when there came a rapid knocking at the door.
“Dr. Wilson, Dr. House,” Porter said through the door. While he still sounded in control there was an edge of urgency to his voice that immediately told House that something was wrong. Wilson went to the door and unlocked it, then opened it. Porter entered the room without permission. Now House knew there was something wrong.
“What’s got your panties in a bunch, Porter?” House demanded, now fully awake. He ignored the glare Wilson threw him for what he’d just said.
“Gentlemen, I will explain everything shortly but you must dress and pack quickly. Ms. Chalmers received a call from the Atlanta Police. They suspect that the two of you are here and that you, Dr. Wilson, kidnapped Dr. House, are holding him against his will, making interstate threatening phone calls to Princeton; they believe that Dr. House has been badly injured by you and is unable to seek out help. A warrant has been issued for your arrest.”
Wilson closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again they appeared panicked along with the rest of him. Somehow Wilson’s plan had been exposed and twisted out of recognition; somehow the authorities had managed to track them all the way to Atlanta.
“He didn’t kidnap me,” House said quickly. “I’m here of my own free will and as you can see I’m fine.” He didn’t mention that it hadn’t started out that way but things had changed considerably since then.
“I haven’t made any phone calls to Princeton since we left there a couple of days ago,” Wilson added, his hand at the back of his neck rubbing away furiously. He looked completely dumbfounded.
“Regardless, gentlemen, the police are on their way,” the butler told them insistently, “so they should arrive here in approximately ten minutes. Ms. Chalmers has made a way for you two to escape before they reach here but you must get moving now!”
House rose from the bed as quickly as he could and grabbed his cane. He slowly put some weight on his right leg and then winced. He could do it. He’d cope.
“So we tell them the truth when they arrive,” House said, shrugging.
“No,” Wilson said. “If they are going to charge me with making threatening phone calls over state lines that alone makes this a federal offense. They don’t need the kidnapping charge to arrest me and hold me for arraignment. Shit, how did they find out? Lucinda said she and Ralph would run interference and warn me if things became complicated.” Wilson set quickly to work finding clothes for House to throw on while Porter began to pack up for him.
“Lucinda, as in Cuddy’s sister, Lucinda? She is in on this with you?” House asked incredulously as he began to throw on the clothing Wilson was handing him.
“Yes,” Wilson said shortly, “I’ll explain it all in the car. I need time to prove that I’m not the one who made those calls. House, you haven’t done anything wrong. You can stay if you want, but I can’t. I’ve got to get dressed.” The oncologist raced from House’s room to his own across the corridor.
“I’ve got this,” House told Porter who was just closing up House’s suitcase. “Go help Wilson.”
House was confused and he had a lot of questions but he also knew that there was no way Wilson had made any phone calls back to Princeton. They’d been in each other’s company almost constantly since they’d left. It was theoretically possible but so highly unlikely that it wasn’t even worth calculating the odds. He wasn’t going to stay and leave his best friend to face this all by himself; he was going with him.
They met in the corridor two minutes later. Porter told them to follow him. He led them to the elevator he had mentioned to House the day before and all three of them climbed into it with the luggage. Yesterday House hadn’t known about Jayne and her mild disability; now it made sense that there would be an easier way for her to move about the mansion. She walked quite well but he i magined that she would find the stairs more of a challenge.
On the main floor Porter led them to the back of the house and out a rear entrance. Sitting waiting for them just outside the door was a silver Jaguar XK convertible with the top up. House whistled softly and the corners of his mouth turned upward as his eyes ran along the lines of the car.
“Where’s the rental?” Wilson asked Porter, confused.
“Ms. Chalmers wants you to use this car,” was the reply and the butler opened the trunk and began to stow away their luggage. “Her friend on the police force advised her that they were able to track you down using your rental agreement and credit card charges. She will hide the rental and is giving you this one for your ‘getaway.’”
“Have to say I’ve never had a loaner like this beauty before,” House commented, giving Wilson a grin. “I’m driving.”
“With your bad leg? I don’t think so.”
“It’s better now,” House insisted, snagging the keys from Porter before Wilson could and limping around to the driver’s side. “Besides, I’m a better driver.”
“No,” Wilson replied drolly, “you’re a faster driver. There’s a difference.”
“Not when you’re running from the law,” House retorted, placing his cane in the small space behind his seat before getting in behind the wheel. He sunk into the soft leather seat and looked at the dashboard with all of its pretty buttons and lights. Someday he had to get himself one of these.
Wilson didn’t argue with him there, he also climbed into the Jag on the passenger side. Porter came around to House’s window which he lowered.
“There is a service road that runs parallel to the rear of the manor,” he told House carefully. “At the end of this driveway turn left. It’s a dirt road that leads off the property. Follow it for approximately a quarter mile. You’ll find an improved road. You’ll come to a gate. There will be a post with a buzzer. Press it and someone will open the gate. Drive about fifty yards and turn left onto the service road. You’re on your own from there. Good luck, Gentlemen.”
“Why do I feel like I’m in a bad spy flick?” House asked before raising the window again and starting the car; it purred like a kitten. He smiled gleefully at Wilson. The oncologist rolled his eyes and turned to look out the front windshield but House saw the hint of a smile on his face. House stared at him fondly for a moment longer then put the car in gear and they drove away.
__
Ordinarily Porter would have been the one to answer the door when the chime rang but he had to wait in the massive kitchen for the buzzer to sound to unlock and open the gate for the doctors. Roberta Chalmers answered it herself, still dressed having not gone to bed yet. At the door were two detectives and behind them she could see at least four squad cars with their lights flashing and a small crowd of police officers circling the house. She sighed silently, hoping that James and Gregory were already well on their way by now.
“Yes, may I help you?” Roberta said with a thin smile.
“Are you Roberta Chalmers?” one of the two male detectives asked her.
“Yes, I am. What seems to be the problem?”
The same detective answered. “I’m Detective Darcy and this is Detective Richardson. We have reason to believe that a fugitive with another man, allegedly his hostage, is staying in this residence.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Roberta answered, laughing a little. “There are no people staying here other than my niece, myself, and a small staff of four.”
Darcy held up the warrants for her to look at along with their identification and badges. “Ma’am, we have a search warrant for your premises including your property and the structures on it. We also have an arrest warrant for Dr. James Wilson. We have reason to believe that he was here at your residence, probably accompanied by another man, Dr. Gregory House.”
Roberta narrowed her eyes at him but knew she had no choice but to allow them in. “Very well, but I assure you that I’ve told you the truth. There are no people by that name in my home.”
She backed away from the door to allow the detectives along with eight uniformed cops to enter the foyer. Richardson gave instructions to the officers and in pairs they split up to search the manor.
“May I ask what this Dr. Wilson and his companion are accused of doing?”
“First degree kidnapping across state lines and interstate phone calls of a threatening nature,” Darcy told her. “Earlier this evening the latest of a series of threatening calls from the kidnapper-“
“Alleged kidnapper,” she spoke up, the lawyer in her kicking in.
“Yes,” Darcy agreed grudgingly, “alleged kidnapper was made to the fiancée of Dr. House, whom the suspect is believed to have drugged and kidnapped from his wedding. This call was traced to this residence.”
“You must be mistaken.” Roberta began to say but when the detective told her about the call trace and that she didn’t have to worry because it was Wilson who was going to be facing charges the woman sighed. “Dr. Wilson didn’t know anything about it. I made the calls. A friend of mine helped me fake voices using digital sound morphing technology. I wanted to make an enemy hurt as much as she had hurt my family.”
The detective sighed, shaking his head. “And the location of Dr. Wilson and Dr. House?”
“They left after dinner. They’re heading home,” she answered calmly, staring him in the eyes. “May I call my lawyer and have her meet me at the police station before you take me in?”
(End of Pt 1)