darkdreamer

And here's my second update for the day :) I hope you enjoy it... This one jumps backward in time just slightly... I felt like I needed to show Wilson's side of things during the last chapter, what was going on behind his locked bedroom door... I hope you enjoy it :) Please let me know :)

*hugs*
DoS

Title: Used
Beta:

misanthropicobs
Rating: R
Pairing: House/Wilson friendship, House/Cuddy friendship, Wilson/OFC, and possible future House/Cuddy, not in this fic though :P
Warnings: implied and explicit 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 39
The Greater Good

“That… that bastard!”

Wilson’s voice was a low hiss, barely audible even in the stillness of the room where he and Jenna waited. He knew the importance of keeping their presence a secret, knew that the whole plan would fall apart – not to mention the possibility of all of them getting killed – if Tritter found out he and Jenna were there.

But through the thin walls that separated Wilson’s room from the rest of the apartment, every word of the conversation between House and Tritter was audible – and when Tritter started talking about House’s new cane, deliberately tormenting him with the memory of what Tritter had done with the old one – it was nearly more than Wilson could take.

Jenna put a gently restraining hand on his arm, silently shushing him with a warning shake of her head.

“If he touches him,” Wilson whispered. “If he touches him again, Jenna, I… I can’t just…”

“You have to,” Jenna cut him off, her words barely a breath. “James, if you blow this now… House is going through this for nothing.”

Suddenly, the doorknob rattled as Tritter shook it, and both of them jumped, wide, terrified eyes locking onto the door. They barely dared to breathe, until House managed to draw Tritter’s attention away from the door. Wilson couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride for his friend as, in spite of his terror, he skillfully guided the conversation away from whatever might lie beyond Wilson’s bedroom door.

House followed the plan perfectly, doing his best to protect Jenna and his friends, leading Tritter to believe that they knew nothing about his part in House’s assault, and Wilson began to relax a little, thinking that everything would work out as planned. However, when he heard the harsh, resounding slap from the next room, Wilson nearly ruined everything himself.

He took a furious step toward the door, fists clenched at his sides, shaking with rage as Jenna caught his arm, jerking him back. She met his eyes in warning, shaking her head slowly and emphatically.

“No.”

“I can’t just… just let him hurt him like that!” Wilson insisted, his whispered words trembling and tormented.

“If he needs help, he’ll use the escape word,” Jenna reminded him. “He’s okay, James. He’s okay.”

“He’s not okay. Tritter hit him…”

“James…” Jenna’s expression was sympathetic as she gently took his hand and pulled him back toward the bed. “… did you really think he’d get through this without Tritter touching him?”

Wilson lowered his eyes, swallowing hard, still trembling with repressed rage, but unable to deny the painful but utterly valid point she made.

“He knows what he’s doing,” she assured him, barely mouthing the words. “If it’s too much for him… he’ll let us know.”

Wilson was barely aware of it through the rage and frustration and tension of listening to House’s torment without being able to stop it – but he was grateful for Jenna’s presence in the room with him. He knew, had he been alone with no one to remind him of the priorities of the situation, he would certainly have already burst into the living room and run to House’s defense, ruining everything in the process.

“Please… please, don’t hurt him…”

House’s choked sob from the next room tore at Wilson’s heart.

When he realized that Tritter was using House’s concern for him against him – spitting out vicious threats of horrific brutalities against Wilson, to keep House under control – Wilson felt furious tears spring to his eyes. When House broke down, crying – out of fear for him – those tears slipped down Wilson’s face, and he pressed a fist against his mouth, struggling to suppress the sob that rose in his throat.

“Shhh,” Jenna soothed him. “It’s all right… it’s almost over,” she whispered into his ear as she wrapped her arms around him – and Wilson was sure that it was as much to hold him back as it was to comfort him.

Wilson’s stomach clenched with fear, however, momentarily distracting him in a terrible way, when Tritter mentioned the cameras. A chill of apprehension swept over him, and he wondered if it was possible that Tritter knew about the camera House was wearing. He had seemed to be one step ahead of them the whole time.

If Tritter had somehow figured out their secret weapon…

Wilson’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard Jenna’s startled, horrified gasp, and focused once more on Tritter’s words – only to wish that he hadn’t. That sick feeling of overwhelming rage and disgust consumed him as he listened to Tritter’s quietly smug description of the details of the attack, cruelly reminding House of all the ways in which he and his friends had degraded and violated him.

Wilson knew his friend well enough to clearly detect the shame and humiliation in his voice as he murmured quiet, broken pleas and apologies. The sharp hitch of alarm in House’s voice, the edge of panic as he pleaded for Tritter to stop, let Wilson know that Tritter was touching him again, deliberately violating him in some particularly traumatic way – and all he wanted was to take his gun and slam the bedroom door open, step out into the living room, and make damn sure that Tritter was never able to do any damage to House again.

“Don’t,” Jenna whispered. “James… don’t… He’s already confessed. We’re almost done. Don’t ruin this now.”

Tritter’s next words made them both freeze, however, and Jenna’s wide eyes turned toward the door in stunned horror.

“Get on your knees, House.”

“No,” Wilson whispered, shaking his head, taking a step toward the door and forcefully shrugging off Jenna’s attempt to prevent him. “No… I won’t let him do this to House…”

“Wait,” Jenna whispered, though her eyes were still locked on the door, stricken and sickened by Tritter’s demand. “Just wait… If he needs you… he’ll say it… Just wait…”

“My leg,” House stammered, and Wilson tensed, sensing where his words were headed. “I… I need my… my pills…”

“There it is,” Wilson muttered, taking the gun out of his waistband, reaching for the doorknob.

“No!” Jenna hissed. “James, don’t!”

“He said it!”

“No, he didn’t,” she objected in a desperate whisper, voice trembling with apprehension as she caught his arm, tried to pull him back. “He stopped himself…”

“He said he needed his pills.”

“He didn’t say ‘vicodin’.”

Wilson shook his head, face crumpling with fresh tears of frustration. “He… he forgot it. He obviously meant…”

“He obviously… changed his mind,” Jenna corrected gently, raising a hand to his cheek to draw his gaze to hers. “He almost said it, but he changed his mind. Just wait… wait, James, please…”

Wilson heard Tritter threaten to rape House with his new cane, and cringed, the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes as he struggled to control the overwhelming need to defend his friend, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

“I can’t let him do this,” he whispered, shaking his head, tears streaming from his eyes. “Jenna, he’s terrified. He probably doesn’t even remember the word… probably doesn’t remember that he has a choice at all. I can’t let Tritter do this to him again…”

Wilson reached for the doorknob again, determined to stop Tritter before he could violate House again. But before he could open the door, he heard a shift in Tritter’s voice. Amazingly, it sounded as if he was getting ready to leave. Wilson felt sick when he realized that Tritter had forced House to his knees, only to reassert his dominance over him, to prove to House that he could make him submit.

Wilson flinched when Tritter hit House again, shaking with indignant fury when he heard Tritter’s hard voice, giving House orders again – ordering him to keep his mouth shut, to fire Jenna and drop the investigation, to quit his job again. He couldn’t believe that Tritter would dare to refer to his actions as “mercy”, and it made him want to walk out of his bedroom and make Tritter sorry for treating House so viciously.

What he did, instead, was to walk out of his bedroom and go to his devastated, quietly sobbing friend. He dropped to his knees beside House, tentatively reaching out his hand to rest on House’s knee.

“House… it’s all right. It’s over… It’s over, now.”

Taking in the wreckage that was left in the wake of Tritter’s second attack on his friend, Wilson had to wonder if it was worth it.

Will even putting Tritter away be worth it, if this sets back House’s recovery – makes it that much harder for him to get past the fear and trauma?

Remembering how terrified House often was by any male touch, Wilson was about to withdraw his hand – when House suddenly reached out and grasped it, holding onto Wilson’s hand with a desperation that set a sharp ache in Wilson’s chest. As tears of mingled pain and affection filled Wilson’s eyes, he was only sure of one thing.

He had never known how much courage and strength lay beneath the surface of his damaged, insecure best friend – and he had never been prouder of House than he was in that moment.

********************************

Half an hour later, Cuddy arrived.

She was in on the plan, of course, but they knew that if she showed up immediately after Tritter left, it would be obvious to anyone who might be watching them that House had told her what was going to happen. And, at least until they could get their evidence to someone who could help them, they had to keep up the ruse that House was obeying Tritter’s demands.

However, a visit to House’s and Wilson’s apartment after her normal working hours was something that was absolutely ordinary lately.

She walked through the door, scanning the room until her eyes fell on House, sitting on the sofa next to Wilson. Wilson was talking to him quietly, and House was nodding slowly in response to something he’d said. At first glance, House seemed utterly calm. When she looked closer, however, Cuddy realized that he was a little bit too calm. His eyes were a little too large, unfocused, and he was trembling slightly with shock, even now, half an hour after the incident.

He looked up as she entered the room, and Cuddy’s heart ached at the sight of the stark terror and confusion in his tearful blue eyes. She crossed the room to his side in an instant, sitting down beside him and reaching out to put her arms around him. He willingly sank into her embrace, his head buried in the crook of her neck as she held him close to her. Her voice was quiet but firm with awed conviction as she whispered in his ear.

“You are so… incredibly… brave, House. What you did tonight was so… amazing.”

She felt a tremor run through his body, but he remained utterly silent. Only when she felt the warm moisture soaking through the shoulder of her blouse did she realize that he was crying. His shaking hands clutched the sides of her blouse, desperately seeking comfort and reassurance in the wake of his renewed trauma, and Cuddy’s heart sank with a sense of dread and uncertainty.

Are we back where we started, now? Have we just made a terrible mistake?

“Shhh, it’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s all right. You’re safe now. And you’re about to be safe for good, House. He’s never going to be able to touch you again.”

A bit awkwardly, Wilson rose to his feet, meeting Cuddy’s eyes in an affectionate smile. “I’ll… go talk to Jenna.”

“She’s still here?” Cuddy frowned, puzzled.

Wilson nodded. “She’s in the bedroom. She’s… a little shaken up, by all of this. I… don’t think she knew…” His voice trailed off, and he shook his head, unwilling to say anymore in front of House, in his fragile state.

Cuddy nodded, dismissing him, and Wilson walked into his bedroom and closed the door, leaving them in privacy. House raised his head, eyes trailing after Wilson, before glancing up at Cuddy uncertainly.

“I… I don’t know how I could have… been so… confused. I… I guess I must have… forgotten…”

Cuddy frowned, confused, shaking her head slightly. “Forgotten? About what, House?” Her voice was gentle, quietly concerned.

House nodded toward Wilson’s door. His voice was hushed and heavy with emotion.

“When he touches me… it doesn’t feel anything like Tritter…” A tremor passed through him as he looked up at her through haunted eyes, stricken with remembered horror. “I… I forgot how… how it felt…”

Alarm filled her at his strange remark, and the slow, distant way in which he spoke it. He still seemed a bit dazed, clearly traumatized by the new encounter with the man who had violated him. His voice trembled, and he seemed on the verge of falling apart – and understandably so.

Cuddy settled back on the couch, sliding her arms around him and drawing House with her, and he nestled into her arms, his entire body trembling, teeth chattering slightly with a combination of fear, and shock-induced cold. She took the duvet from the back of the sofa and wrapped it carefully around him, holding him close to her and murmuring soothing words into his ear – but she wished that someone could offer her some comfort – some reassurance that they had done the right thing.

God, I hope we did the right thing… I hope this was worth the sacrifice House had to make…

Seeing what their plan had done to House, she wasn’t sure anymore.

TBC...