Moonlight, Chapter 9
Apr. 17th, 2009 11:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darkdreamerSorry it's been a bit, but I've got updates for two stories for you tonight :) Hope you enjoy, and please take a moment to let me know if you do :)
*hugs*
DoS
Title: Moonlight
Beta:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
andi88 Pairing: none really, House/Wilson friendship, some House/Cuddy friendship
Rating: PG-13 to R in places
Warnings: violence, scary themes, disturbing subject matter
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 9
Gradually awareness returned to House – along with the searing pain in his right thigh, so intense that his first conscious thought was to wonder how long it had been since he had last had Vicodin.
He was still blindfolded, his mouth packed with something soft but firm, preventing him from speaking. His best efforts at a groaning protest against the pain he was in resulted in nothing more than a muffled, barely audible whimper. House tried to lower his arms, but they were bound even more tightly than they had been before, stretched taut over his head and fastened in iron shackles. His ankles were bound in a similar manner so that he was lying spread eagle, unable to free himself from his bonds, or even move.
The surface beneath him felt soft, but thin; he could feel something hard and unyielding through it, and guessed that he was probably lying on a thin mattress on the floor – wherever he was. The air in the room smelled slightly musty and stale, different from the tiny bedroom in which he had spent the last few weeks. The cool, slightly damp feeling of the air on his bare skin made him think of a basement, or some other underground location.
Wait… what…?
His clothing had been removed.
Panic seized him, and he began to fight instinctively against his bonds, thrashing on the thin mattress beneath him as he struggled to free himself – to no effect. He tried again to cry out, tried to draw some attention to himself, though he had no idea whether or not it would do any good. It seemed certain that Wilson had moved him at some point while he was unconscious, but House had no idea to where or for what purpose – or if there was anyone even remotely within hearing distance.
The iron bonds did not give in the slightest, but that only added to House’s terror, and he intensified his struggles, breathing heavily through his nose, a strangled sound of panic rising in his throat when he couldn’t seem to draw in enough air. He felt smothered and claustrophobic, on the edge of blacking out – not that he would have known the difference with his sight stolen from him.
“You know, I’ve been going about this all wrong.”
House went still, his harsh, rapid breaths echoing loudly in the soundless, stone room. He heard a soft metallic vibration close at hand, and wished with frantic irritation that it would just stop – before realizing all at once that it was the shackles that bound him, and it was his own violent trembling that caused the sound.
Something about Wilson’s voice sent an apprehensive shiver down his spine. It was not touched by the doting concern that had filled it during these last few weeks. In fact, Wilson’s tone was cold and detached, yielding no indication that he cared about House’s fear and discomfort in the slightest.
If he’s had another break… if this is another side of his delusions I’m dealing with now… he could be more dangerous than ever…
“You thrive on rationality. You’re probably the most intelligent person I know.” Wilson’s voice was calm and casual, and House tensed as he heard it draw gradually closer, accompanied by the approaching sound of dress shoes on cement. “So naturally, I assumed that we could talk about this like a couple of adults – that you could see the rationality of my plan, and accept that this is what we have to do.”
But it’s not! You’re insane! Wilson, you need help, you have to let me go so I can help you!
Wilson paused, letting out a heavy sigh of resignation, not even acknowledging the desperate, choked sounds that left House’s throat as he struggled to speak past the makeshift gag in his mouth.
“I assumed wrong.” A hard note crept into Wilson’s voice that made House’s stomach feel queasy. “And I should have known. When it comes to you getting what you want, your rationality doesn’t really play into it – ever. Why would I think that you would listen to reason now, when you never have before? Whatever you want, House: that’s what you do your best to make happen – even when it’s the worst possible thing for you. I’ve only been trying to do what’s best for you, and you’ve been fighting me at every turn.”
But you don’t know what’s best for me; you don’t even know what’s best for you. Wilson, you’re sick. You’re sick, and you’re going to kill us both before this is over…
Wilson continued, oblivious to – or simply unconcerned by – the despairing thoughts that filled House’s mind. His voice was frighteningly calm and clinical, and House felt his chest constrict with fear.
“So… we’re going to try a different method.”
House flinched a moment later when he felt Wilson’s hands on his wrists, pulling slightly to test the strength of the bonds. He did not react as strongly when Wilson checked the ankle restraints, because he was expecting it; but when he felt a strong, warm hand trailing across his bare thigh – gentle but warning fingers coming to rest over the mangled flesh of his scar – House felt all the air sucked out of his lungs in instantaneous panic.
Please, please don’t… Oh, Wilson, oh, God, no…
“You must be in a lot of pain by now,” Wilson observed, without a trace of compassion. His hand tightened slightly, and House let out a thin, choked cry, trying in vain to pull away. Wilson’s voice hardened as he added, “You need to know that you could always be in more.”
House shook his head pleadingly, his face awash with shame when he felt tears spring to his eyes.
No, please, no…
“I’d like for you to be more comfortable than this, House… but it can’t happen. Not yet.” Wilson paused, his tone thoughtful and certain when he continued, “In order to keep you safe, I’m going to have to build you into the kind of person who can accept someone else’s leadership and control – and that’s not going to be easy for you.”
House’s entire body shook with relief as he felt Wilson’s hand leave his leg, sensed it as Wilson rose to his feet again, drawing away from House as bit. An instant later, relief was replaced with blind, blazing agony as House felt the hard toe of Wilson’s shoe dig into the tender flesh of his thigh. Wilson followed his slight motion as he tried to pull away, just applying more pressure, even as House let out an anguished, nearly silenced moan of pleading anguish.
Wilson’s voice was deadly soft, terrifying, as he stated, “Before I can build you back up into the person you need to be – I’m going to have to break you down completely.”
Wilson was quiet for a moment, not removing his foot from House’s thigh as he went on. “I’ve moved you to a very remote location. No one could hear you if you could scream; and I’m going to make sure that you can’t. No one knows you’re here. No one knows I’m here. There’s no phone, and this address isn’t associated with either of us. There is no chance that anyone will find you here. I’m your entire world now, House. I decide when you eat or hurt or move – and the sooner you get that through your head, the better off we’ll both be.”
As Wilson finally relented, easing the pressure on House’s thigh and walking slowly away, House’s shoulders shook with sobs, and he shook his head pleadingly, even as despair overwhelmed the last vestiges of hope in his mind. He couldn’t speak, but he was crying out in his mind, desperate for Wilson to hear him.
Wilson, please… please don’t leave me like this… don’t do this to me…
****************************
Come on, Wilson, answer your damn phone…
Cuddy listened to the ringing on the other line through five rings, before it finally went through to Wilson’s voicemail. She pushed the button to end the call with a frustrated sigh, resting her head against the back of her hand before lowering the phone to the desk, staring with troubled, unseeing eyes through the darkened window of her office.
She knew it was a long shot, but all her previous attempts to reach House had ended in failure. She had hoped that perhaps Wilson had heard from him, and might be able to tell her how to reach him. Because of the way Wilson had left, and then House had left after him, she thought it was fairly unlikely that they were still in any form of contact.
But she was running out of options.
She opened her file cabinet and pulled out Wilson’s file, taking from it her copy of the letter of recommendation she had written him for his new job. She made a note of the address, then put the file away again and put on her coat.
Half an hour later, she was walking through the door of Wilson’s new place of employment, hoping against hope that she could convince someone to give her his new address.
“Really, he left it with me when he left, but there must have been some kind of clerical error, and it’s no longer on file at my hospital,” she insisted to the wary reception nurse. “He wouldn’t have given it to me if he had a problem with my having it.”
“It’s against policy, ma’am, I’m sorry,” the nurse calmly stated, her expression making it clear that she was quite skeptical of Cuddy’s explanation.
“I understand that.” Cuddy gave the nurse a tight, controlled smile. “May I speak with your supervisor?”
Finally, after a lengthy conversation with the administrator on duty – in which Cuddy explained that there was an issue with one of Wilson’s former patients who was having a medical crisis, and that she needed to speak with him about that patient right away, but was unable to reach him by phone – she managed to convince the woman to look up Wilson’s employee file for her and find the address.
The woman frowned at the computer screen, shaking her head.
“I’m sorry. We only have a post office box on file for Dr. Wilson. There’s no physical address on file.”
Cuddy left the hospital and headed toward her house with more questions and fewer answers than when she had arrived there. The entire time Wilson had worked at PPTH, he had kept her informed as to his current address and contact information. It didn’t make sense that he would not have done the same thing with his new employer.
She was surer than ever: something was terribly wrong.
With a weary sigh of reluctant acceptance, Cuddy took out her cell phone and dialed Wilson’s number again.
**************************
Wilson closed the basement door behind him – then leaned against it, one hand over his eyes as he struggled to hold back the tears that shook him. He could not erase from his mind the image of House, laid out on the basement floor with only a thin military style mattress between himself and cold stone – his wrists and ankles locked into tight iron shackles bolted to the floor near the four corners of the mattress – gagged and blindfolded, totally helpless and in terrible pain.
It has to be. It hurts, but it has to be. It’s the only way he’ll submit – the only way he’ll ever realize that I’m the one in control…
Resolutely he made his way into the kitchen and set about making dinner – for one.
House had already gone a day and a half without food or Vicodin, and Wilson tried not to think about how desperate he had to be by now for both.
But he needs to be desperate. He needs to get to the point where he recognizes that I’m his only source of either of those things, so he’ll submit. I’ve got to be as hard as possible for as long as necessary, so he knows how bad it can actually get for him, so it will finally get through to him that submission is the only option. It’s breaking me to break him – but I have no choice. It’s the only way this can work.
Wilson sat down with his lonely dinner in the living room, trying to focus on the positives instead of the disturbing knowledge of the miserable state in which his friend was suffering at that very moment.
At least this place is so much better than the other house. Secluded and out of the way – and not officially linked to me or House. No one would ever have any reason to look for either of us here. We’re totally safe.
His cell phone started ringing mid-bite, and Wilson leaned forward to pick it up, glancing disinterestedly at the screen once – Lisa Cuddy – before setting it down again, letting it continue to ring until it went to voicemail.
TBC...
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2009-04-18 06:36 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2009-04-18 06:08 pm (UTC)Thanks
I think
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Date: 2009-04-18 06:21 pm (UTC)Thank you so much for the update! I follow this story religiously. :) Your Wilson is probably the scariest I've read - he's so crazy but thinks he's being completely rational. Poor House!!
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Date: 2009-04-18 07:43 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2009-04-18 11:45 pm (UTC)Very creepy. Mentally preparing for even worse things to come...
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Date: 2009-04-19 03:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-19 03:27 pm (UTC)Okay. I am totally freaked over how Wilson decided to change his tactic. As in, I can't even concentrate on the way you portrayed this chapter, which both left me disturbed and intruiged. I am now officially hooked like I've never been before. And I am so going to be scared to read the next part.
Which, I think, is a compliment.
You psychoWilson is scary. Now excuse me, I'm gonna go get a comfort-hug from my mom.
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Date: 2009-04-21 01:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-23 05:59 pm (UTC)I think what he's done to House in this chapter is just horribly cruel and I hate the thought he's trying to break House like this.
Oh PLEASE let Cuddy keep on being suspicious of what's going on and I hope she won't give up trying to find out the truth - preferrably before Wilson succeeds in his goals with House.
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Date: 2009-04-25 07:45 pm (UTC)http://chocolate-frapp.livejournal.com/2009/04/23/
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Date: 2009-04-25 08:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-27 03:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-27 10:59 pm (UTC)thanx, love, glad you liked it :)
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Date: 2009-05-12 05:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-12 05:49 pm (UTC)