darkdreamer | Used, chapter 49 :)

Hi, guys, I know it's been a while with the holidays and all, but I've got a new chapter of Used for you. I really hope you enjoy it :)

*Hugs*
DoS

Title: Used
Beta:

misanthropicobs
Rating: R
Pairing: House/Wilson/Cuddy friendship, slight Wilson/OFC
Warnings: implied and explicit non-con, violence and non-con of a flashback/memory sort, mild language, general angst and trauma and darkness
Summary: One night leaving the hospital, a violent attack leaves House devastated and broken. In the aftermath, Wilson and Cuddy struggle to find a way to help him heal -- while House fights just to find a way to survive.

“Is this really necessary?”

House’s voice was low, but terse and impatient as he tapped his foot rapidly against the floor across from Brooke’s desk, his arms crossed defensively, head lowered to conceal the vulnerability and uncertainty in his eyes. He couldn’t quite bring himself to look at the young woman as she paced slowly back and forth behind her desk.

The very reason for this visit was humiliating to him, and frankly, terrifying.

Two days had passed since Tritter’s arraignment, and Brooke had called and asked House and Wilson to meet with her to go over their strategy for the trial – which, unfortunately, meant spending far more time and attention than House was comfortable with on what had happened to him. He spent every waking moment trying not to think about it. The last thing he wanted was to spend the afternoon discussing it in detail with someone who was practically a stranger.

Now, he sat directly across from said practical stranger, the complete focus of both Brooke’s and Wilson’s attention.

“Why do I even need to be here? Isn’t strategy your thing?” House continued when his question was met only with confused silence. “I’m just going to tell the truth, right? Tell the jury what happened? Why does that require a dress rehearsal?”

“This isn’t a rehearsal. That’s not why you’re here,” Brooke patiently explained, the sympathetic tone of her voice telling House that she understood his reluctance. “You’re right. All you’ll have to do is tell the truth. But at the same time, you have to know what to expect. I won’t be the only one asking you questions. Tritter’s defense attorney is going to do everything in his power to deliberately upset you… catch you off guard, confuse you. He’s going to try to make you contradict yourself… to make you look like a fool, or a liar, or just an unsympathetic bastard… to alienate you from the jury.”

“Well, considering that I am all of the above,” House muttered in quiet defeat, “what does it really matter?”

“House…” Wilson’s tone was patient, concerned, as he studied House’s face. “You know that’s not…”

“All that should matter is the facts – what he did.” House very deliberately cut off Wilson’s sympathetic words, focusing on Brooke with forced calm.

“Yes, that’s all that should matter,” Brooke agreed. “But unfortunately it’s not all that does matter. How you look to the jury is more important than you might think. A jury is just made up of people, and if those people can’t sympathize with you… Tritter could walk, no matter how guilty he is.”

House bit his lip, lowering his eyes again, but not before Brooke caught the flash of panic in his eyes at her words. His hands flexed into fists on his knees, and he drew in a deep breath, letting it out in a slow, shaky sigh.

Brooke’s voice was gentle as she added softly, “Considering the evidence in your case, that’s unlikely… but… I have seen it happen. That’s why this is important, Dr. House. I’m sorry, but it’s necessary.”

House nodded, silently accepting the logic of her explanation – and trying hard not to think about how thoroughly unsympathetic most potential jurors seemed to find him.

“It’s… unfortunate that you’ve already had one legal run-in with Tritter,” Brooke continued. “The defense will try to use that.” She paused a moment, studying House’s face as she asked, “What will you say if they ask you about that?”

House shrugged with feigned carelessness. “I’ll just tell them what happened. I didn’t show Tritter the respect he thought he deserved when he showed up at my workplace, and he trumped up the charges against me in order to get back at me. That’s why I was acquitted of those charges, and that’s why he… why he attacked me. Because his first attempt at payback failed so miserably.”

Brooke nodded thoughtfully, considering. “That’s… not what they’ll say happened.”

House glanced up at her again, a silent question in his troubled eyes.

“They’ll say that the charges against you were legitimate, and you somehow managed to get out of them, but still resented Tritter’s involvement. They’ll say the current charges against Tritter are your way of getting back at him.” Brooke paused a moment, eyes narrowing in mild speculation as she continued. “If there’s anything about your past encounters with Tritter that you wouldn’t want to be made public – anything that might make you look like the bad guy here – trust me, those things will come out during the trial.”

An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of House’s stomach as he thought of the thermometer that had started the whole thing. He swallowed hard, fighting off a sudden and overwhelming wave of nausea as his mind filled with dozens of observations and accusations that a competent defense attorney might easily use against him.

“They might… say even worse things, too.” Brooke’s words were spoken with cautious gentleness, and accompanied by an apologetic grimace. “Since there’s clear physical evidence against the other men involved in the attack, they might go the route of acknowledging that it happened, but trying to claim that it… wasn’t as bad as we’re saying it was. They could say that it was… rough, and violent, and unfortunately ended in some injuries, but… consensual.”

“Consensual?” Wilson echoed in incredulous anger. “Do you actually think any jury would buy that?”

“Again,” Brooke replied with an uncertain half-shrug, “it all comes down to which side the jury comes down on, emotionally. If Tritter can make himself appear sympathetic… and can make it sound like you’re the one who’s twisted and mentally messed up, and just trying to cover it up after the fact by crying rape…”

Her voice trailed off, and all three were silent for a few moments, considering the impact of her words.

“That’s just one option, though,” Brooke reminded them at last. “And a long shot, at that. A more likely argument for Tritter – considering that he’s the only one against whom there’s no actual DNA evidence – would be to say that the attack did happen, but that it was the other men who attacked you, not him, and you just saw your chance to get back at him by accusing him.”

“But the knife they found on him when he was arrested,” Wilson reminded her. “That’s solid physical evidence.”

Brooke nodded. “It is,” she affirmed. “And it’s one of our strongest pieces of evidence. Of course, they could try to argue that it was planted. They’ll most likely try to make it appear that Tritter’s being framed.”

A visible shudder ran through House’s shoulders, and he crossed his arms over his chest again, eyes downcast.

“You okay?” Wilson asked, his voice low and private.

House nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. “Yeah. Peachy.”

“I’m sorry,” Brooke said softly, leaning against the front of her desk, crossing her arms and her ankles as she faced House directly, sympathy in her eyes and voice. “I know this is a lot to process, and I’m probably not making it sound any less scary for you. I just want to be sure that you’re prepared for this, because… well, the defense doesn’t have to disclose their strategy to us prior to the trial, and… we really have no way of knowing which tactics they’re going to use.” Her voice was quiet and even as she explained. “I just want you to be prepared for anything they try to throw at us in that courtroom.”

With another quiet, shaky sigh, House leaned forward, resting his head in his hands as he struggled to maintain his composure. Wilson reached out a cautious hand to rest on his shoulder, squeezing gently in silent comfort.

“Thank you,” Wilson said to Brooke with warmth and sincerity in his voice as he met her gaze. “For letting us know what we’re dealing with here. It’s hard, but… we need to know. It’s better if we’re ready.”

Brooke nodded absently, not taking her eyes off House, a worried frown creasing her brow. “We’ll have plenty of time to go over all of this in more detail over the next week or so,” she stated at last. “The two of you can talk about this, try to think of any potential problems I might be missing; and when we meet again, I’ll have some practice questions for you, so you can be better prepared for the real deal.”

House didn’t raise his head, didn’t react or respond at all, lost in the swirling vortex of his frightening thoughts. Wilson nodded in acknowledgement of Brooke’s words, rising to his feet and removing his hand from House’s shoulder. House took the silent cue, dragging himself from his own mind long enough to rise to his feet and head toward the door.

“Thank you, Brooke,” Wilson repeated, pausing in the doorway after House walked out into the hall. “I’m sure we’ll be talking to you soon.”

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

House didn’t say a word during the drive home, despite Wilson’s hesitant attempts to draw him into conversation. After a few minutes, Wilson gave up, opting to leave his friend to his own thoughts. If House wanted to talk, he would; if not, pushing him to do so would accomplish nothing.

Once inside the apartment, House immediately made his way to his bedroom and closed the door behind him, before Wilson could change his mind and make another attempt at concerned but stilted conversation.

His mood heavy and morose, Wilson sighed as he picked up the stack of mail from the floor under the mail slot, sorting through it absently, his thoughts still on the conversation with Brooke.

He immediately regained his focus when he came to an envelope with no address or postage – simply “Dr. House” written on the front in generic block letters. Wilson frowned, suspicious, as he opened the envelope and took out the single sheet of paper inside.

House –

All that is coming to you – all that you have earned – you will receive.

Wilson’s stomach lurched, as he instantly processed the meaning of the brief, cryptic message. It was clearly a threat, though who had left it was a disturbing mystery, considering that all known participants in Tritter’s crimes were currently in police custody.

House was right… We have no way of knowing who’s on his side… He’s still not safe, not yet… maybe not ever…

Wilson frowned, considering for a moment. His first impulse was to destroy the note, before House could get a chance to see it. The last thing House needed right now was another reason to be afraid; but the note could be evidence, if whoever had written it happened to have been careless. Finally, he folded the note into a small square and tucked it into the pocket of the pair of pants he planned to wear the next day. He would take it to Brooke the next day and see what she made of it.

Wilson stood there for a moment, hesitating, before making a second decision. He walked to the phone and picked up the phone book from the shelf, flipping through its pages until he found the listing he was looking for.

Personal Security

Wilson picked up the phone, scanning down the page with his index finger until he found the name of a well-known company with whose name he was already familiar.

A bodyguard… A trained professional who can watch out for House and make sure he’s safe until all this is over…

Wilson picked up the receiver, cradling it between his shoulder and his ear, his finger reaching toward the keypad. He froze, however, before pressing a key, when he heard a vaguely familiar voice echoing out of the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Eve? Hi. This is… Dr. House…”

House’s voice, soft and hesitant and uncertain, followed, and Wilson realized that House had already started to make a call from the bedroom, before Wilson had picked up the phone.

“Oh, hi!” Eve sounded pleasantly surprised. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you. Is… everything okay?”

House was silent for a long moment before finally answering quietly. “…No.”

There was only silence for a long moment, before House spoke again, his voice low and quiet and a little lost.

“I’m… sorry to bother you. I just… the trial starts soon, and… I just… need to… talk to someone. Someone who’s… who’s been there.”

Wilson heard Eve’s soft, understanding voice, but couldn’t make out her words, as he slowly, cautiously replaced the receiver, careful not to let it make a sound to betray his presence. He was admittedly curious as to their conversation, but knew that he had to respect House’s privacy.

He sat there for a few moments, lost in his own conflicting thoughts.

He was relieved and grateful that House had found an outlet for his fears and uncertainties, for the emotions that he couldn’t bring himself to share with his friends, who couldn’t possibly comprehend them, no matter how hard they tried. Eve could be a friend to House right now, a listening ear who could both relate to what he was feeling, and offer him support and advice, from someone who had already experienced these things before him.

Wilson was glad for House, that at last he’d found someone he felt safe enough to open up to.

Still, it was a bittersweet gladness – because that someone wasn’t him.

TBC...

Current Mood: frustrated

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

jackssilverwolf.livejournal.com

So brutal. Poor poor House, this is going to be a nightmare for him. It already is. It sucks that rape victims have to go through so much crap during trial.

You are brilliant! And thank goodness for Eve, I'm so glad House has someone to talk to. Aww, Wilson wants to help so badly. I love this story so much!! Now sure what that says about me, though. ;op

From:

Used, chapter 49 :)

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