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darkdreamer) wrote2009-03-03 09:11 am
Moonlight, Chapter 2
Here's the next chapter of Moonlight, in which many things are explained, and things get a liiiittle bit scarier :P
Hope you enjoy it...
*hugs*
DoS
Title: Moonlight
Beta:
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andi88 Pairing: none really, House/Wilson friendship, some House/Cuddy friendship
Rating: PG-13 to R in places
Warnings: violence, scary themes
Summary: Following Amber's death, House is afraid that Wilson will never be able to forgive him -- but Wilson's real reaction is far more frigthtening and disturbing than he ever would have expected. Wilson wants to hold on to the only meaningful relationship left in his life -- by any means necessary.
Chapter Two
The first thing House was aware of as he began drifting back to consciousness was the pounding ache in his skull. His head felt heavy and fuzzy through the pain, and when he tried to raise his head, it only intensified the sensations. He let out a weak moan as he tried to sit up and found himself abruptly jerked back down, a sharp, shooting pain from his wrists down his arms accompanying the motion.
He couldn’t remember where he was or what had happened, but he felt a strange sense of alarm and urgency, as if he was in some terrible but utterly unknown type of danger.
House opened his eyes, wincing at the added pain from what seemed to be a very bright light. He blinked a few times, struggling to get his eyes to adjust so that he could make some sort of sense of his situation. Finally he managed it, squinting against the light until he could gradually open his eyes completely and take in his only vaguely familiar surroundings.
He looked around in confusion as his head gradually began to clear, taking in the narrow bed on which he was lying, in the tiny bedroom Wilson had shown him… just before…
Wilson… Wilson!
House instinctively tried to sit up again as it all came rushing back to him, and hissed in pain as once again he was yanked back down onto the bed beneath him. A sharp, cramping pain shot up through his arms, which were stretched taut over his head. House looked up, and his stomach lurched in alarm when he saw that his wrists were locked into the iron shackles he had viewed earlier – only moments before Wilson had struck out at him and knocked him unconscious with his own cane.
And who knows what he’s planning to do next…?
House felt his heart rate accelerating as that unsettling thought crossed his mind. He tried to focus, desperately trying to figure out why he was here, and how he could possibly escape this rather disturbing situation. House looked up again at the chains that bound his wrists to the wall, one on either side of his head, and gave the left one a tentative tug to test its strength.
It did not give in the slightest.
However, House realized as he surveyed the situation that he could use the chains attached to the shackles to pull himself up to a seated position – which would not provide him with any definite advantage, but would serve to alleviate a little bit of the powerless feeling that came with lying flat on his back helplessly awaiting whatever might be in store for him.
With some effort and no little amount of pain, House managed to sit up, bracing his back against the wall, his mind racing with a thousand different panicked thoughts, each more unsettling than the last.
Why would Wilson do this? I know he’s mad at me… hates me, in fact… will probably never forgive me… but I didn’t think he’d take things this far…
… and… how far is ‘this far’, exactly?
House’s gaze fell momentarily on his cane, leaned against the wall on the other side of the door, far out of his reach. He felt a sick sensation rise up in his throat when he saw that its handle was stained with blood – his blood – and remembered again the fierce, dangerous determination on Wilson’s face as he had delivered the blow that had put it there.
House warily scanned the room, not sure whether to be relieved or worried that there was no sign of Wilson anywhere in sight. The television across the room was turned on, the volume low but clearly audible – certainly not loud enough to drown him out, should he choose to call for help.
But… if he’s still in the house…
Despite his situation, House was disturbed by how frightening he found that thought. Aside from the obvious evidence, he really had no idea just how dangerous Wilson actually was. It was clear that he must be suffering some kind of grief-induced breakdown, to have acted in such a dangerous and reckless manner.
Except… this doesn’t seem impulsive or reckless… not really…
House swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry with the troubling implications of his thoughts.
This seems… very carefully planned. I don’t think the house came pre-equipped with bondage gear… which means… he’s thought this through, at least to a certain extent… which would indicate a major psychotic break, not just striking out in a moment of rash emotion…
… which means he’s not necessarily going to be coming to his senses anytime soon…
As his panic began to fade as he adjusted to the reality of his situation, House became increasingly aware of the familiar throbbing ache in his thigh, and the fact that he could not remember when he had taken his last Vicodin. He shifted slightly, wondering if the bottle was still in his pocket where he usually kept it – and then wondering uneasily how on earth he could get to it if it was.
House felt a cold, clenching sensation in his chest as the door to the bedroom suddenly swung open and Wilson walked into the room, a calm, speculative expression on his face. House tensed, instinctively drawing back against the wall and watching his friend in wary apprehension, having no idea what to expect from him, or even what all of this was about.
Except… you do know what this is about… don’t you?
“Wilson,” House began in a low, cautious voice that was hoarse and ragged with disuse, “I… I’m sorry…”
“Don’t. I don’t need to hear that again. I know, and I don’t blame you.”
Wilson waved a dismissive hand at House’s words, shaking his head as he moved further into the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed. House flinched slightly, instinctively pulling away as Wilson’s thigh brushed against his leg. Immediately, Wilson’s hand darted out and closed around House’s left thigh, preventing him from moving away any farther.
“In case you’re thinking about it, don’t try to kick me, or otherwise hurt me, House. I really don’t want to have to drug you – potentially harmful interactions, considering your recent injuries – but I will if you make me.”
“Yeah,” House muttered, his wary gaze never leaving Wilson’s hand on his leg as he countered, “And blows to the head, hard enough to draw blood, aren’t in any way dangerous following a serious head injury. I know you’re angry, Wilson. I understand if you want to hurt me. But don’t you think this is a little…”
“House… hurting you is the last thing I want to do,” Wilson cut him off, his voice strangely calm and even, as if he was utterly untroubled by the fact that he had knocked his best friend unconscious and chained him to a bed. “This isn’t about… payback, or revenge, or whatever.”
House allowed his eyes to drift away from Wilson’s hand – which, although not quite touching it, was unsettling close to his damaged thigh – to study his friend’s expression… which was even more unsettling. Wilson’s mouth was set in a soft smile that was almost serene, his dark eyes warm with affection as he met House’s uncertain gaze.
House’s voice was quiet and level as he asked, “Then… what is this about? Wilson… what are you doing?”
Wilson didn’t answer for a long moment, just staring at House in a speculative manner, before rising from the bed and pacing slowly across the room. He turned to face House again, opening his mouth to speak, but then stopping abruptly. He lowered his eyes, shaking his head slowly as he tried to find the words.
“I… I can’t do it again, House,” he confessed softly at last, his voice heavy with emotion, trembling with unshed tears.
House kept his voice low, calm, and filled with as much understanding and compassion as he could muster – which was understandably not much, considering the position in which he currently found himself.
“Can’t do what, Wilson?”
“Can’t… can’t stand to… to lose anyone else. I just… can’t let it happen.” Wilson looked up to meet House’s confused frown, shaking his head slowly in despair as he explained, “It wasn’t your fault that Amber died, House. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. The bus accident might have happened on her way to work the next morning, or… or anywhere. It could have been… a thousand other things besides the accident. There’s no way to know… what might happen… at any time, in any way.”
“Right,” House cautiously agreed, not taking his eyes off his increasingly emotional friend. “Life is dangerous. There’s no way to really prevent it. I get that.”
“But… there is a way to prevent it,” Wilson insisted, his dark eyes intent with conviction as he crossed the room to House’s side. “Just… make sure there’s no exposure to the danger.”
House felt a cold, tingling sensation creeping up his spine as he began to put the pieces together, and realize exactly what it was that Wilson intended – what were his horrifically misguided reasons for bringing House here. All at once, House knew that his friend had indeed suffered a mental meltdown, and his situation was far more gravely dangerous than he had at first suspected.
Aware that upsetting Wilson would not serve to in any way increase his chances of getting out of this, House suppressed the urge to flinch as Wilson’s gentle hand cupped the side of his face, his thumb stroking affectionately over House’s cheek. House swallowed hard, struggling for control of his own emotions before venturing to respond in a voice that trembled slightly.
“No… no exposure to the danger…” House echoed softly, “… no exposure… to life? Then, what’s the point, Wilson? You can’t… keep me from living… in order to save my life. Surely you have to see that that’s just… just crazy…”
“It’s not crazy,” Wilson snapped, something wild and frightening flashing in his eyes as he took a backward step away from House. “It’s not crazy if it’s the only way.”
“Wilson… stop and think about what you’re doing right now, okay?” House insisted, his voice trembling with urgency and desperation born of his ever-increasing pain, and the fear that he would not be able to convince Wilson to give up this madness. “You’re not making sense. It’s pointless to keep me here, chained up and miserable, to try and save my life…”
“It’s never pointless to try to preserve life…”
“It is if the way you do it makes the person wanna be dead!” House snapped, his impatience finally getting the better of him. “Wilson, this is ridiculous!”
“Stop yelling at me, House…”
Wilson’s voice was unsettlingly soft and even, and House’s stomach lurched as Wilson reached into his pocket and took out a hypodermic needle filled with a clear, golden-colored fluid, holding it where House could see it, but not making any move to actually use it.
“… or I’ll have to drug you. And you’re right. That’s a little dangerous, all things considered. Still – I will if I have to.”
“So you’re not really all that worried about my safety, are you?” House shot back, accusation in his frustrated voice. “You’re trying to protect me, but apparently from everything but you, is that it?”
“Stop it!”
Wilson’s voice rose in anger as he took a step closer, and House drew back against the wall, eyes locked onto the needle in his hand, waving dangerously back and forth as Wilson’s hands shook violently with his rising agitation.
“House, just stop it! I’m trying to protect you! You’re the one who’s making it difficult!”
As he spoke, Wilson pointed an accusing finger in House’s face, his eyes blazing with hurt and fury. Instinctively, House flinched as Wilson’s hand neared his face – and Wilson immediately froze, eyes widening as he stared at House, aghast at his fearful reaction. His words were hushed, horrified and disbelieving, when he finally found his voice again.
“You really think that I would hurt you.”
House stared at him in rising indignation, shaking his head slowly as a nearly silent laugh fell from his lips.
“Well, you know – the bleeding head wound is a pretty good indication…”
“I only did what I had to do to make you safe!” Wilson exploded, advancing on House again before whirling around, pacing frenetically as his frustrated rant poured from his lips. “You think this is the way I want it to be? You think it was easy for me to hit you like that? But I knew you’d be like this, House! I knew you wouldn’t listen to reason, and I thought that a quick, simple blow to the head carried fewer risks than the use of heavy sedatives right now, so… so I did what I had to do. But can you understand that, or even dare say appreciate it? No, of course you can’t!”
“I’m sorry,” House offered again, his voice quiet and carefully subdued. “Okay? I’m sorry, Wilson…”
“Would you stop acting like you’re scared I’m going to hurt you?” Wilson’s voice rose to a near-shout as he spun around to face House again, and House tried to resist the urge to draw away from him. “I’m doing this because I care about you – because you are the last person in my life that actually matters to me, and I don’t want to lose you! Can’t you understand that?”
“Yes,” House replied, trying to control the tremor in his voice, his eyes averted, everything about his demeanor portraying submission in a subconscious effort to appease Wilson’s manic rage. “Yes, I… I understand…”
Wilson was quiet, somewhat calmed by House’s words. He stared at House through suspiciously narrowed eyes, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Finally, his shoulders fell as he let out a weary sigh.
“No,” he declared softly. “No, you don’t.” A hopeful smile rose to his lips as he nodded and went on, “But you will. It might take you some time, but… it won’t always have to be like this. Sooner or later, you’ll understand that this is for your own good.” He was quiet for a moment before turning abruptly and heading toward the door. “It’s late. I’m tired. I’m going to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”
Alarmed at the prospect of being left alone, bound and in pain for such a long period of time, House jerked forward against the chains at his wrists.
“Wilson… wait a second… we can talk now…”
“We’ll talk later, House,” Wilson insisted sternly. “Maybe in the morning you’ll be a little more receptive.”
“No, wait…”
But Wilson was already standing in the doorway. He gave House a patient smile as he cut him off in a firm, almost parental tone of voice.
“Don’t bother screaming or calling for help. This room is soundproofed. No one will hear you, and you’ll just hurt your throat.”
“Wilson, wait, my pills! My leg! I need you to…”
House’s voice trailed off as he realized that he was addressing the closed door, and Wilson had already gone. He rested his head against the wall behind him and closed his eyes, choking back a despairing groan of pain and frustration, as he tried to focus on anything but his throbbing leg, and the interminable hours that lay ahead before he would be allowed relief.
TBC...
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"“No,” he declared softly. “No, you don’t.” A hopeful smile rose to his lips as he nodded and went on, “But you will. It might take you some time, but… it won’t always have to be like this. Sooner or later, you’ll understand that this is for your own good.” "
OMFG. This fic is so damn good. Wilson is very creepy but I still want to cuddle/ Jesus though, poor House must utterly bewlidered as to WHAT to do!
Have you read "The Collector", John Fowles? The bit I quoted really reminds me of it. x
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*is anxious for more*
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though wilson thinks he's doing what's best for house... but really not so much :(
thanx, love, the next chapter is up now, hope you like it as well :)
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where i see the major difference though is that her motivations were mostly selfish... she didn't think he'd be safer in her house than in a hospital, etc... she didn't think it was necessarily better for *him* to be in her house under her care... she just wanted to be around him due to her obsession, and then wanted to be sure that the book got written as she wanted it...
Wilson's motivations, while pretty much... well, insane lol... are at this point solely for house's protection... he's become convinced that the outside world is dangerous and house would be in constant peril in it, and genuinely thinks he's protecting him... he has no intention of hurting house, though his mentally unstable state might cause him to do so :(
but anyways, yeah, that's where i see the major difference in motivations :P
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Thanks for sharing. I can't wait for the next update.
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I find this interesting really fascinating. I love seeing Wilson in his most disturbed ways especially when they're believable as you mannave to make them sound.
Keep writing :) (though I don't think you need me to do so)
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He's not going to hobble him like Kathy Bates did in Misery, is he? I need an advance warning.
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thanx, love, glad you liked this chapter :) the next one is up now :)
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You are just so awesome. :D More, please?
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the next chapter of this one is up now, hope you enjoy it :)
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I love how you did this. House all WTF, Wilson all "I'm kidnapping you because I care" and me all SQEE!!
And the "But you will [understand]" gave me the shivers of dread. XD
Can't wait for next one.
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the next chapter is up now, love, hope you enjoy it :)
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this is evil...!! T_______________________T
I start to think that the crazy one is you...
you don't have a person in a locked room, do you?
O_O
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anyways, thanx, love, the next chapter is up now :) *Hugs*
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I'll read it as soon as I can sorry
school is driving me crazy O_O
[ like Wilson ^^U ]
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I printed this chapter down and read it last night. OMG, how scary is this!!!???
The whole first part with House waking up and being pulled back was so suspenseful.
Wilson is positively creepy. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect Wilson shackling House in a room to keep him safe. What a surprise! This whole chapter just killed me.
I was sitting in a chair reading this and actually found myself trying to get Wilson's attention to give House his drugs. So much anxiety. Phew! Love it!
I'm definitely dying for an update on this one. Very good! :D
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thanx so much for your kind words, the next chapter is up now, hope you enjoy it :) *hugs*
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the next chapter is up now, hope you enjoy it :)
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Wilson has him locked in a make-shift dungeon, for crying out loud! You've set up quite the thriller here. Wilson even has the strange, child-like persona that showed up when House yelled. I'm interested in seeing what else Wilson will do when House starts to be more of an asshole induced by his rising pain, fear, and discomfort.
Oh, I can see this getting very bad. Go for it!
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