darkdreamer | Used, Chapter 51

Okay, guys, here's the next update of Used :) Hope you all enjoy it, please let me know what you think :)

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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.

Chapter 51
Opening

"Over the course of the next few days, the state will prove to you that the man sitting before you today -- Michael Tritter -- is not the well-reputed law officer he would like you to believe he is. He is not the concerned, valuable citizen with deep ties to this community and its well-being that he wants you to think he is. No, there's a much darker side to this man, and I intend to show you that darker side."

Brooke paused in the course of her speech, glancing downward as she stopped her slow, rhythmic pacing in front of the jury box, before looking back up to meet the eyes of each of them in turn with a solemn, troubled gaze.

"It's a journey none of us will enjoy taking -- and none of us will finish this trial untouched by it. No one can come into contact with the kind of evil secretly housed in Michael Tritter, and come away unchanged. Not the victim of the heinous and reprehensible acts of which he stands accused…" Brooke paused, turning to gesture in House’s general direction, before continuing, “… and not any of you who will hear those acts described, in detail… by the very person who was subjected to them, and others who have borne witness to the cruelty and vindictiveness of which Mr. Tritter is capable.”

House ordinarily would have taken appreciative note of both the technical and emotional value of her speech. The words she spoke were true, though also highly manipulative emotionally. She was preparing the jury to hate Tritter from the start, warning them as to his hidden darker nature in a highly dramatic, intense way designed to catch their interest (and hopefully support) from the very beginning.

Ordinarily, House would have been impressed with her tactics.

Today, he hardly heard a word she spoke.

He sat a couple of rows from the front of the courtroom this time, in the area of the room usually reserved for the victim and key witnesses in cases such as these.

Wilson sat to his right, with Jenna beside him. Eve sat to his left, with Cuddy on the other side of her, her arm wrapped around the back of the bench on which they sat to rest a gentle, supportive hand on House's shoulder. The bodyguard Wilson had hired a week earlier stood at the back of the courtroom, keeping a watchful eye over the entire proceedings, on the lookout for the unlikely prospect of danger.

House should have felt perfectly safe.

He didn't.

House's eyes were locked onto his lap, his mouth dry with fear, his heart pounding as he struggled not to focus on the fact that, on the other side of the room, a few feet ahead of him, sat the man responsible for not only the devastating physical damage he had endured, but also the mental and emotional torment that constantly filled his mind.

Every few seconds, Eve glanced at him with an expression of studious concern and scrutiny, gauging his reaction cautiously. She frowned slightly when she saw the pallor that had stolen the color from his face, the trembling of his clenched hands in his lap, and the desperately taut, locked position of his jaw line, as he struggled not to allow his rising panic to the fore.

Looking at Brooke again with a calm expression on her face, Eve silently reached out and placed a soft hand over House's folded ones, easing her fingers insistently between his until she was holding his hand in a comforting gesture.

"Michael Tritter would like you to believe that he is the true victim in this case -- that this is a matter of a grudge against him, an attempt to somehow sabotage his admittedly impressive career," Brooke continued as she stepped slowly toward the center of the courtroom again, gesturing toward Tritter with one hand. "But that is not the case here. Not even close."

She drew in a breath, pausing for emphasis.

"Michael Tritter is a monster. He masks his evil with a rather convincing front of public service -- but the public service only allows him the cover he needs to exercise brutal and heinous abuses of his power. During these proceedings, the state will prove to you that this is a very dangerous man, guilty of the most sadistic and horrifying of crimes, and deserving of punishment to the full extent of which the law is capable."

With a nod toward the judge to indicate that she was finished, Brooke calmly returned to her seat, a couple of rows ahead of where House and the others sat. House took in a deep breath, completely missing the reassuring smile she cast in his direction as she sat down. He couldn't help a nervous glance toward Tritter's side of the room, however, as Tritter's attorney rose to his feet and approached the jury to make his own opening statement.

Immediately House looked down again, swallowing hard and flinching slightly before he could quite bring himself to actually look at Tritter.

Beside him, he felt Eve shift a little closer on the bench, edging in and leaning back so that her lips were near his ear. Her eyes still focused on the front of the courtroom, she whispered softly in his ear.

"Go ahead. Look at him."

House gave her a startled, wary glance, then looked away, shaking his head slightly.

"Can't," he whispered back.

"Sure you can," Eve persisted, her voice only audible to House, the attention of the rest of the room focused on Tritter's smooth-talking lawyer. "Go ahead." She paused a moment, then added, softer, "Trust me."

"The Assistant District Attorney has called my client a monster -- accused him of horrific and sadistic crimes that, by all means, are definitely befitting the title of 'monster'. However -- my client is not guilty of those crimes."

House nervously ran his damp palm across the surface of his jeans, struggling to steady himself, though the defense attorney's words sickened him. A cold, twisting sensation in his stomach accompanied the fearful thought that the jury might, just might believe the man, and Tritter might be acquitted.

"Go on," Eve was still urging him gently. "He can't move from where he's at. A hundred people watching. He couldn't touch you if he tried." She paused a moment, her voice low and intent as she added firmly, "Just... look."

House drew in a sharp, shaky breath, straightening his shoulders slightly as he tried to maintain control of his emotions, and raised his eyes hesitantly toward Tritter. He glanced at him once, flinching slightly and losing his nerve, before steadying himself and looking up again.

Tritter was unaware of House's attention, his solemn, thoughtful expression leveled on his attorney, listening as the man sang his praises, talking about his stellar record on the police force, his heroism and professionalism other nonexistent character traits that he hoped would keep him out of prison.

House felt a shudder of revulsion go down his spine, and started to look away, but Eve's gentle hand squeezed his in a silent command to keep looking.

"Check out his hands," she whispered, nodding toward Tritter.

House frowned, puzzled by the order. Hesitantly, but with a sense of relief, he focused his attention on Tritter's hands on the desk in front of him -- much easier than trying to bring himself to face the man.

Eve leaned closer, nodding toward Tritter again as she said, "Watch him. Notice anything interesting?"

House tried to block out the threatening, accusing voices of his fears and memories and focus on whatever it was she was trying to get him to see. With an effort, he shut out everything else, and gradually became aware of what Eve had already noticed.

Tritter's hands were shaking. His left hand was closed into a tight, white-knuckled fist resting on the desk; the fingers of his right were tapping impatiently, anxiously, against the desktop.

"He's... nervous," House whispered, eyes widening slightly with the implications of that simple realization.

"Yeah," Eve agreed. "Scared, even." She paused a moment, allowing that to sink in before adding, "Of you."

House glanced at her, startled, swallowing slowly but saying nothing as he returned his gaze to the telltale nervous gestures of Tritter's hands.

"Michael Tritter is a decent man, committed to his career and his community, whose only crime, as we will prove to you throughout the course of these proceedings, was to press charges against a drug addict -- a drug dealer -- who now attempts to present himself as a victim before us all."

House flinched, distracted by the harsh words of the defense attorney, glancing down at his lap again.

The attorney's voice was solemn, thick with false sympathy, as he continued, "And the defense does not deny -- Dr. Gregory House is indeed someone's victim. The heinous acts committed against him are indeed tragic and horrible -- but Michael Tritter did not commit them."

"Ignore him," Eve whispered urgently, pulling slightly at House's hand in an attempt to regain his attention. "That's all lies -- and you know it is. Look at Tritter."

House obeyed, grateful for the distraction this time, eager to focus on something besides the attorney's troubling words, and the building sick sensation they created in his stomach. Tritter's hands were still shaking, and his tapping had quickened since House had last looked. As House watched, Tritter suddenly seemed to notice his own unconscious reaction, and abruptly clenched his tapping fingers into a fist and hid it beneath the desk, on his leg.

House couldn't really understand it.

"Why?" he whispered at last, shaking his head. "Why should he be scared of me?"

"Because this is his life -- his career -- at stake. And you could end it. Just by getting up there on that stand and telling the truth -- you can bring an end to the world he's built for himself. He could spend the rest of his life in a prison cell, because of you. You have the power now, Dr. House -- not him. Not anymore. He's shaking like that, fidgeting and scared -- because he knows it."

House stared up toward Tritter, eyes wide and wondering as his mind processed the words Eve had spoken. It was a concept that seemed so simple now, and yet one that he had not been allowed to consider by the fears and insecurities instilled in him by Tritter's terroristic abuse. Tritter had left him feeling as if the man was invincible, virtually omnipotent, and that any attempts he might make to defend himself against him would be useless.

Now, House felt a thin thread of hope and courage building within him, winding slowly around the swelling panic and mindless terror that had threatened to consume him, holding it back, keeping it at bay as the defense attorney continued his statement.

"Dr. Gregory House accuses my client of some terrible things. He calls him a rapist, a kidnapper, and worse. But what you haven't been told, yet, is the nature of the man making these accusations. Dr. House is a known liar and drug addict, despised within his own social and professional circles, due to his inability to maintain a stable and healthy lifestyle – or even to hold a civil conversation with another human being. Due to circumstances of his own creation, Dr. House's life recently spun out of control, and the only person he can think to blame for that -- besides the obvious choice of himself, that is -- is my client. During the days to come, we will show you how this came about, and you will see that this trial is not about putting a monstrous criminal in prison or protecting an innocent victim. No, this trial is about a doctor with a God-complex who can't face the responsibility he bears for his own problems, and an innocent man who now stands accused because of that inability."

House felt the queasy sensation in his stomach gaining strength, and lowered his head in shame, unable to look at the judge or jury, let alone Tritter, as the accusing words filled his ears. His face flushed with uncomfortable self-consciousness, and he wondered what the jury thought of the defense attorney's words.

Did they believe him? Were they already deciding in the backs of their minds that he was the one at fault, not Tritter?

Was he already the villain, and Tritter the victim, in their minds?

His support system around him silently rallied -- Eve squeezing his hand reassuringly, while Cuddy's hand on his shoulder did the same, and Wilson visibly bristled with indignation at the unfair accusations. House could not help but be aware of the handful of people in the room who were undeniably on his side, no matter what anyone said, and that was at least somewhat reassuring.

"Don't worry," Eve whispered, reminding him, "All you have to do is tell the truth."

"With the opening statements complete," the judge spoke in an officious tone from her seat on the platform at the front of the room, "is the state ready to proceed with its case?"

"We are, Your Honor," Brooke replied without hesitation, rising to her feet. "Without any further delay, the state calls its first witness to the stand -- Dr. James Wilson."

TBC...