Used, chapter 30 :)

[darkdreamer]

Okay, here's the latest chapter of Used -- I hope you guys enjoy it, please let me know :) *hugs* DoS


Title: Used
Beta: zeppomarx
Rating: R
Pairing: House/Wilson friendship, House/Cuddy friendship, eventual Wilson/OFC, and possible House/Cuddy
Warnings: implied non-con, violence and non-con of a flashback/memory sort, mild language, general angst and trauma and darkness
Summary: House endures the unimaginable...will his friends be able to deal with it? Will he be able to deal with it? A story about damaged human beings, and ultimately recovery and healing



Chapter 30
Demanding

Following House’s startling announcement, no one spoke for a few moments, everyone taking in the new and disturbing information that not only had House been brutally attacked, but he had apparently witnessed a murder as well.

At last Jenna broke the silence, unable to keep a note of excitement from her voice. “You saw him kill this guy? Maybe there’s evidence! How did it happen?”

From his chair beside her, Wilson silently reached out a hand to rest on her arm in a stilling gesture, and she looked up at him, momentarily confused. His concerned gaze was focused on House, who was clearly not as excited as Jenna at the prospect of recounting what he had seen.

House swallowed hard, drawing in a deep breath, his eyes focused on his lap. “They… they drove out to this… remote area… out by the ocean, and… and he made me get out of the car, and… and get… on my knees.” House’s voice was barely audible. “He… he held his gun to my head, and… and I thought… I was sure he was going to…”

He stopped, shaking his head, biting his lower lip. “But then he… he put his gun away, and he… he asked the other guy… Johnny… for his gun, and… and he shot him. In the head. Right… right in front of me.” He stopped, closing his eyes, shaking his head slightly, and Cuddy felt her own eyes fill with tears, recognizing his struggle against the memories that loomed, threatening to swallow him up in their horror.

Before her misgivings could stop her, Cuddy gave in to her maternal instincts. Her right hand still clasped in his, Cuddy put her left arm around House’s shoulder. His hands were shaking, and his breath quickened. She felt him lean, apparently unconsciously, into her embrace, and was reassured that she had done the right thing.

“It’s over, House,” she reminded him in a low, private voice. “You’re not there anymore. It’s over, and you’re safe. Just… take your time… You don’t even have to talk about this right now if you don’t want to…”

Jenna grimaced at those words. She didn’t want to let it go, more concerned with finding the answer than with House’s feelings at the moment. Still, her tone held a note of apology as she added, “But… if you do want to… it would be really helpful…”

House couldn’t help an ironic half-smile at her eagerness, in such sharp contrast with his own struggle. “It’s fine,” he insisted quietly. “It’s… it’s all right. I’ll tell you. I’d… rather get it done now than have to… have to deal with it later.” He paused a moment before going on, his voice a little stronger than before. “Before… before he shot him, he… he said that the guy had… worked with him, for the past ten years, on… on other… other…”

“Situations like yours?” Cuddy gently suggested when it seemed that he couldn’t find the words, choosing her own words carefully.

House nodded. “Yeah. So… I guess that answers the question, about… whether or not he’s done this before.” He was quiet for a moment, gathering his courage to go on, before he added, “He said… if he’d kill someone he’d… considered a friend, then… then he wouldn’t hesitate to… to kill me, if I… if I talked. To anyone. He said… if I told, he’d… he’d…”

House’s shoulders were shaking, and he lowered his head as he struggled for control.

“You don’t… have to tell me that part,” Jenna offered softly, compassion in her eyes. “That’s not necessary. All I need to know about is… well… is there any chance that he left any evidence behind? I mean… did you see what he did with the body? With the gun? Was there any… any blood left behind? Anything at all that you can remember might help.”

House nodded. “We were… near the ocean. On a bluff, overlooking the water. He… he wiped the gun of his own prints, and…put it in Johnny’s hand. Then he… threw both off the side into the water. I guess he was… trying to make it look like a suicide…”

Jenna frowned, shaking her head. “That doesn’t make sense. He’s a cop. Surely he’d know that forensics would show the angle at which the gun was fired. He’d have to be pretty good – and also physically pretty close to this Johnny guy – to get the exact angle and positioning of the gun right.”

House looked up to meet her eyes. “Trust me,” he told her with a bitter laugh. “He’s good. He… he shot him point blank in the temple. Johnny was… was standing… pretty close to… to Tritter when he shot him, so… I think he got it right.”

“And if he was just slightly off… anything he might have missed,” Wilson added in a grim, thoughtful voice, “the salt water will erase most of the trace evidence left behind. Even if they can prove it wasn’t suicide… there’s nothing to connect the body with Tritter, whenever it washes up…”

“And it will,” Jenna confirmed with a slow nod. “They always do. And there may be evidence. There’s no such thing as the perfect crime… not anymore. There may be plenty to connect Tritter with this guy he killed. We just haven’t found it yet.” She returned her attention to House, her voice quiet and respectful as she asked, “Do you think you could find the place where it happened?”

House just looked at her blankly for a moment, visibly struggling to focus on what she had said, against the vicious onslaught of horrific memories and fears assailing his mind. Finally, understanding showed in his eyes. He considered for a moment, then shook his head slowly.

“No. I… I didn’t recognize anything, and… and I… had other things on my mind, on the way there… I wasn’t exactly watching for landmarks.”

His voice lowered to a whisper as his eyes focused on his lap again, and he shifted slightly closer to Cuddy, without realizing it. Cuddy’s fingers trailed gently up and down across his shoulder in a soothing motion, as she willingly drew him closer to her, accepting his unintentional advance.

“Do you think you could… could find it?” Jenna pushed a bit, too eager at the prospect of evidence to let it go. “I mean… if we started from some point you do remember, and just… started driving…?”

Cuddy felt a tremor shake through House at the suggestion, and she cleared her throat, drawing Jenna’s attention. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jenna. Especially if he’s being followed. Even if he could remember how to get there, how is he going to get you there without it being absolutely obvious that there’s an investigation? And he said he doesn’t remember, so… I think it’s best if we drop that topic for now.”

There was no mistaking the authority in her tone. Jenna glanced at House, who just sat there in silent agreement with Cuddy’s decision. She was reluctant to give up without being sure she had all the information she was going to get; and yet, a single glance at House’s face told her that the conversation had become to much for him, at least for now. She nodded her acceptance.

“All right, then. That’s fine. Maybe I can… find out who this Johnny is. Find some kind of connection, maybe some other crimes that he and Tritter have been involved in together.” Sensing that the conversation was over, Jenna rose to her feet, concluding, “I’ll get the supplies we need for the security system, cameras… I’ll bring you receipts…”

House nodded without looking up at her, apparently unable to find his voice at the moment.

“I’ll just… go out the back door, and cut across lawns to get to my car,” Jenna said. “That way if anyone’s watching, they won’t know I was here.” She glanced awkwardly around the apartment before asking, “Where’s the… back door, again?”

“I’ll show you.” Wilson stood up, leading her out of the room.

Cuddy watched as Wilson led Jenna through the kitchen, the door swinging shut behind them, and leaving her alone with a shaken House. She focused her attention on him, her hand leaving his to touch his cheek, gently but firmly turning his face toward hers.

“House… hey…” she murmured, trying to get his attention. He was staring past her, a stricken expression in his eyes, and she suspected that he was on the verge of a severe flashback, or at the least a panic attack. “House… look at me… hey… it’s all right…”

He finally raised his eyes to hers. “He… he said he’d… he said he’d kill us… He said he’d… he’d…”

“Shhh,” she soothed him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling his head down onto her shoulder. “I know… I know… But that’s not going to happen. He’s not going to touch you again, okay? He’s never going to touch you…”

He clung to her so closely that she could feel the rapid pulse of his heartbeat against her chest, and she just held him, helping him to ride out the violent tremors that shook his body.

“It’s all right,” she whispered over and over, her voice quiet and calm, rocking slightly as she tried to soothe him. “It’s all right… you’re safe… it’s okay…”

At some point, Wilson appeared in the kitchen doorway, and despite the situation Cuddy noted absently that he had taken an awfully long time to see Jenna out. He met Cuddy’s eyes in silent communication before retreating into the kitchen again to give them their privacy.

Finally, House stopped shaking, and Cuddy felt his body tense in her arms with the inevitable embarrassment that followed these breakdowns. Slowly, awkwardly, he raised his head, a sheepish, humorless half-smile on his lips, his eyes averted as he drew back.

“Well… that was pathetic,” he observed flatly, starting to pull away from her arm, still around his shoulder. When she didn’t let go, he resisted, letting out a frustrated little sound of protest.

“Just wait,” she said softly. “No need to go anywhere just yet, is there?”

House tensed momentarily, but then relaxed with a sigh, leaning back against her arm, raising a weary hand to cover his eyes for a moment before sliding it down over his face.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Cuddy assured him.

“This is ridiculous. It’s got to… got to stop at some point, doesn’t it?” His voice sounded utterly exhausted, and Cuddy’s heart went out to him. “This can’t just… keep happening, but… but I can’t see how I’m going to… to get past this.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “Ever.”

Cuddy was quiet, unsure what to say that would be both comforting and honest. She had no idea how long it would take for the panic attacks and flashbacks and horrific nightmares to come to an end. She had enough medical knowledge to know that for some people, it never ended– but that information would not be particularly helpful to share.

Besides – she was fairly certain House already knew that.

She also knew that the way House was handling things was not likely to help his recovery along. House was a person whose mind was constantly at work, constantly questioning, analyzing, seeking – and in this particular situation, that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. If he just stayed inside all the time, with nothing to do but go over his personal nightmare again and again in his head, Cuddy knew it would take him even longer to deal with it.

He needed to get out, to do something besides obsess over what had happened to him.

He needed to get back to the business of living.

“I think,” she began cautiously. “I think… it might help if you went back to work.”

House immediately, emphatically, shook his head. “No. I can’t…”

“You can. You haven’t officially given me your resignation yet,” Cuddy pointed out. A sly smile touched her lips as she added, “And even if you had… I haven’t accepted it. And… have no intention of accepting it.”

House looked up at her sharply, his eyes slowly narrowing into a glare. “You can’t force me to work at PPTH. You can accept my resignation – or you can fire me for not showing up to work. Either way…”

“House… why?” Cuddy asked, urgency in her voice, searching his eyes for some clue as to what he was thinking. “Why this fixation with quitting? You have to know it’s not good for you to just sit around with nothing to do but think about what happened. You’re a doctor, House, and you’re the best damn doctor I’ve ever known. Don’t tell me you don’t know how unhealthy this is…”

“I do know,” House snapped, pulling away from her at last in irritation and struggling to his feet. “Okay? I know!”

“Then why?” Cuddy repeated, rising as well. “Why would you deliberately do something that you know is only going to make things worse?”

“Because I don’t have a choice!”

“What do you mean you don’t have a choice? Of course you have a choice!”

“No, I don’t!” House snapped his voice rising in his frustration.

“Why not?” Cuddy demanded, moving closer to House, a challenge in her voice. “Tell me why you have to quit!”

“Because he told me I have to!” House blurted out at last – and then froze, clearly not having meant to tell her so much.

They both stood there in silence for a long moment.

At last, Cuddy broke the silence, her voice hushed. “He… he what?”

House turned away from her, frustrated and embarrassed, not wanting to tell her any more – but it was too late. She already knew the truth.

“He… he said I had to quit. He said… I… I don’t have the right to…” His voice trailed off, and he lowered his head, shaking it slightly in despair. His voice dropped to a whisper. “… to… treat patients… because I’m n-nothing… nothing but a pathetic… d-drug addict who can’t even take care of his own problems. He said that if I d-didn’t resign on my own, he’d… find another way of making sure that I never… never practice medicine again.”

TBC....




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