Moonlight, Chapter 10
Apr. 24th, 2009 01:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darkdreamerHere's the next chapter of Moonlight :) I hope you like it. Please let me know what you think :)
*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, 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 10
“You’re detoxing.”
Wilson’s matter-of-fact tone cut through the interminable clamor of House’s anguished thoughts, drawing his attention with a sense of urgency. By this point he was so sick with agony that he could barely make sense of the words at all. His thoughts were hardly in words anymore, but rather sheer anguished sensation, brutal and overwhelming in its intensity.
With no means by which to measure it, and with the agony that made each moment seem to drag on for an eternity, time had ceased to have any meaning to him. His arms ached from being stretched over his head in the same position for so long, and his right leg felt as if it was on fire. It nearly drowned out the dull ache of hunger in his empty stomach, but the dry, scratching thirst that filled his mouth and throat were too strong to be ignored.
By this point – House was desperate.
“If you get sick, you could choke,” Wilson continued, with the same calm, clinical tone he used every day at work. “So… I’d like to take the gag out, but… frankly, I’m not sure I can trust you.”
Through his pain, House managed to recognize the importance of what Wilson was saying. If he could call for help, draw someone’s attention – or even just talk to Wilson, try to get him to understand – then maybe he would have a chance of getting out of this.
And he had to get out of this.
The pain was unbearable by this point, making House unsure whether freedom or death was the preferable option. He nodded hurriedly, emphatically, trying to make it clear to Wilson that yes, he could trust him.
Wilson made a skeptical clucking sound with his tongue, running an affectionate hand through House’s sweat-dampened hair. “I don’t know, House. I need to know that you won’t scream – won’t try anything at all. I don’t even want you to speak without permission, is that clear, House?”
The stern warning in Wilson’s voice only intensified the nausea House was feeling, and he nodded again, a frustrated whimper leaving his throat. At this point, he was willing to beg and plead for Wilson to take the gag out – and the irony of that particular detail of his situation was for once completely lost on him.
“All right,” Wilson sighed, resignation in his voice – as if he was already certain that House would fail his test of trust. “We’ll try it. If you can’t be obedient to my terms, though – you’ll regret it, House. Do you understand?”
House felt as if he couldn’t stop nodding, his shoulders shaking with relief as he felt Wilson’s hands reaching to lift his head slightly, deft fingers working the strap behind his head and unfastening the gag. As Wilson drew the hated device away, House gingerly worked his aching jaw, gasping in several deep, desperate breaths of cool air that seemed to ease the pain-induced nausea a little. He swallowed, wincing at the sharp tearing pain in his dry throat, but grateful for what little moisture he could manage to get into his mouth.
“I’m not going to be able to just leave you like this for more than a little while, though,” Wilson informed him, his tone careless and unconcerned. “I do have to work later today, and I don’t trust you enough to leave you completely free to talk or scream or whatever while I’m gone…”
The idea of having to accept the gag again was terrifying. House felt the last vestiges of his pride shattering into pieces, and he desperately shook his head, hoarse, pleading words escaping his lips before he could remember Wilson’s orders.
“Wilson, no, please… I won’t say anything, I won’t try anything, I swear, just please, please don’t…”
A breathtaking slap across his face silenced House’s trembling words, and he cringed as Wilson grabbed his hair and jerked his head up off the mattress. House flinched when he felt Wilson’s breath on his face and heard the furious menace in his voice.
“I just warned you, House, not ten seconds ago! How can I trust you when you can’t go a single minute without lying to me or trying to trick me?”
His heart sinking with despair, House tried to shake his head against Wilson’s grasp, stammering out mindless, helpless apologies and explanations.
“No, Wilson, please, I wasn’t t-trying to trick you, please, I just want to talk to you…”
“I was really hoping this wouldn’t be necessary, House.”
Wilson’s tone was terse and impatient, and House flinched when he felt Wilson’s hands near his throat. A moment later, he felt a frightening pressure across his throat, cutting off his oxygen almost completely. He gasped for breath that came only with great difficulty, seized with panic.
“P-please… can’t… breathe…”
“House…” Wilson’s words were slow and filled with patronizing patience. “… you’re talking to me. You know what that means?”
House didn’t even try to respond, too focused on struggling to draw air into his starved lungs. Angry at being ignored, Wilson slapped his cheek lightly a couple of times in a gesture designed both to get his attention, and also as a threat.
“Pay attention, House. What does that mean?”
House tried to focus through his panic, more frightened of what Wilson might do to him if he made him angry than of the constricting band around his throat. After a moment, the answer came to him, and he let out a shaky breath with some semblance of relief as he gave his halting response.
“If I can… talk… I… can breathe…”
“That’s right.” Wilson’s voice was soft and soothing, yet somehow menacing at the same time. “But I’m pretty sure the strap I just put around your neck will keep you from getting enough air in at once to scream. And… I don’t really want you to talk, either. Not unless I ask you a question. Is that clear?”
House nodded listlessly, his labored breathing evening out as he began to bring his panic under control.
“Good. How’s your pain level? Give me a number.”
“Twenty-five.”
“That’s… about what I figured. Are you hungry?”
The very thought of food was nauseating, despite his ravenous state of hunger, and House shook his head weakly, swallowing hard against the bile that rose in his throat. “No… hurts… too much…”
“Thirsty? Would you like some water?”
Cool water seemed like just the thing to soothe not only the burning ache in his throat, but also his raging stomach. House nodded eagerly, desperately.
“Yes… please…”
“I don’t know, House. You certainly haven’t earned it.”
House swallowed with difficulty, struggling to draw in enough breath to speak. “I… I’m sorry… I-I’ll do what you say… please, Wilson…”
“Save it, House. I heard you the first time you said that – and look how that turned out.”
House bit his lower lip, cringing slightly at the hard note of resentful anger in Wilson’s voice, the reminder of his failed escape attempt that had brought him here.
“I-I’m sorry, Wilson… I won’t do that a-again… I swear, please…”
“Shut up, House.”
The order was given without anger, and with quiet authority that sent a shiver down House’s spine; he immediately fell silent.
“Now, I’m going to give you some water. Before you get any food… or Vicodin, for that matter… you’re going to have to earn it. Open your mouth again without permission and it’ll be twice as long.”
House bit back the instinctive protest that had risen to his lips, remaining silent with an effort.
“If I take the strap off your throat… can you keep your mouth shut?”
House nodded pleadingly, not daring to make a sound.
“Good.”
House held perfectly still, doing his best to show Wilson that he was cooperating, though instinct made him want to jerk away from Wilson’s touch. Wilson unfastened the strap, and House drew in a deep, trembling breath of cool air, nearly hyperventilating in his desperate desire for the oxygen of which he had been deprived.
“I’ve got a few things to do around the house, and when I’m finished, I’ll bring you some water,” Wilson continued. “I’m going to leave the strap off while I’m gone, but this room is not soundproofed. And if I hear a sound out of you, I’ll make this suffering seem like a picnic in the park to you. Do you understand me?”
House’s stomach lurched in fear at the deadly calm in Wilson’s matter-of-fact threat, and for a moment he was certain he was going to throw up right then. He nodded again, choking back a sob when he felt Wilson’s hand on his arm, unusually gentle and reassuring.
“Good. I’m going to let you earn back my trust, House – a little at a time.”
With those words, Wilson’s hand was gone, and House felt a rush of hot shame and self-directed anger at the bereft sense of loss that came with Wilson’s absence.
Please… please don’t leave me here alone…
******************************
It was nearly four hours before Wilson returned – not that House had any way of knowing that.
The time passed until he began to wonder if Wilson had been telling the truth, if he intended to come back at all. Despair began to sink in as his pain gradually intensified. Unlimited access to cool air only helped so much; and at a certain point, the dank cold of the room began to work against him. His muscles clenched and trembled in an attempt to warm his body, and thus caused his damaged thigh to hurt worse than ever.
He tried to stay quiet and still, unwilling to draw Wilson’s anger again, but eventually it was just too much. Before long, a low, moan of agony escaped his throat… and soon become an almost consistent – if remarkably soft – sound of pleading anguish. The pain and nausea eventually overwhelmed him, and House barely had time to turn his head to the side before he vomited all over the side of the mattress to which he was chained. A moment later, the acrid scent of urine filled the air, and House felt a fresh wave of shame come over him at the realization that, during his stomach’s revolt, he had also lost control of his bladder. He had been holding it for so long already that the momentary lapse had been more than his stressed system could take.
When Wilson finally returned, he let out an appalled sound at the stench that met his nostrils, stalking across the room to stand over House’s helpless, trembling form.
“God, House, that’s disgusting,” he snapped, his tone hard and pitiless as he crouched beside House and pulled his head up with a careless, painful hand in his hair. Then, almost as an afterthought, he shook him and snarled, “And I told you to shut up! When are you going to learn a little self-control?”
House tried in vain to bite back his quiet, keening moans of pain, terrified of making Wilson angry with him again. A litany of desperate pleas and apologies filled his mind, though he dared not speak them aloud. All he could do was to weakly shake his head in a wordless plea for mercy – and even that humble gesture was impeded by Wilson’s grip on his hair.
Wilson stared down at him in irritation for a long moment, before relenting with a heavy sigh.
House did look rather pitiful – and he had stayed quiet for a long time.
Wilson released House’s hair, allowing his head to fall back onto the mattress, then ran a gentle hand across his cheek, ignoring House’s instinctive flinch at the contact.
“I’ll be right back.”
“No,” House whimpered, having no way of knowing how long Wilson might be gone, and unable to hold back his distress at the idea of being alone again.
Feeling generous, Wilson decided to let it pass.
This time, Wilson was only gone for a few minutes. When he returned, he gently washed House’s face with a warm, wet cloth. He spoke to House softly as he cleaned up the vomit and piss from the vinyl surface of the mattress and the floor around it. Once he was finished, he placed a firm, supportive hand at the back of House’s head, tilting a glass of water to his lips and allowing him to take a few slow sips.
“You actually did pretty well, House,” he admitted, his tone still cool and detached, but no longer angry. “You stayed quiet for a long time… and I think you’ve earned a small reward.”
House tried not to get his hopes up, but his heart raced at the thought of possibly being allowed Vicodin after all this time spent in unrelieved agony. He swallowed hard, automatically salivating at the thought of its familiar bitter taste, and the sweet relief that would follow it.
“I made you a sandwich while I was out there,” Wilson informed him. “You need to try to eat a little. You haven’t eaten in a couple of days…”
House’s stomach did an uncomfortable flip at the thought of food, and he swallowed hard to keep from vomiting again. “I… I can’t,” he rasped out, his voice timid and trembling. “I’m… too sick… hurts too much…”
Wilson was silent for a long moment, and House braced himself with dread for the inevitable explosion.
It was not long in coming.
“House… is there anything you know how to do right besides complain?”
Wilson’s words started off slow and clipped, rising to a crescendo of shouted rage. House heard a tremendous crash of shattering glass as Wilson hurled the plate, sandwich and all, against the wall, and flinched violently, his trembling intensifying.
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” he whispered automatically.
Wilson would not be so easily appeased. He slapped House across the face, hard, before rising to his feet. House could hear his quick, frenetic pacing as he released his rage in a bitter diatribe of berating accusations.
“That is exactly your problem, House! Exactly your problem! You always think you know what’s best, don’t you? But you don’t! What you need to learn to do is to just accept that I’m doing what is best for you and quit with your stupid, argumentative whining! I am trying to help you!”
“I’m sorry,” House pleaded, the words nearly a sob of desperation. “Wilson, please, I’m sorry…”
“Too late.”
Wilson crouched beside him, and House tensed as his head was raised again. He heard the clink of glass against stone as Wilson placed the glass of water on the floor beside the mattress and reached to take something from his pocket.
“I’ve got two pills here, House. One is Vicodin, and one is nausea medication to keep you from throwing up all over yourself again.” He paused a moment, and there was a nasty, malicious note to his voice as he softly concluded, “Guess which one you’re going to get now.”
“Wilson, please…”
“Take it. Drink.”
House dared not resist as Wilson placed the pill between his lips and held the water to his mouth again. He let House drink as much of the water as he wanted, then replaced the gag in his mouth. House struggled weakly when he realized what Wilson was doing, but a sharp, warning jerk on the straps of the gag stilled him, his only motion the shaking of his shoulders that accompanied his despairing sobs, as Wilson got up and walked away from him again.
TBC...
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-04-24 12:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-03 09:15 pm (UTC)thanx, love, glad you liked it... next ones up now :) *hugs*
no subject
Date: 2009-04-24 02:08 pm (UTC)Well done! :)
no subject
Date: 2009-05-03 09:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-24 05:01 pm (UTC)One thing I like about this story, and people who don't write might not realize how tough it can be, is how you've described House's surroundings and positioning. I'm working on a piece and asked a neighbor to help act out a fight scene with me to get it figured out. I'm sure you didn't hold someone hostage in your basement, but...OMG! You've got someone tied up in your basement, don't you? I'm going to check some missing person reports! "Hello? Unsolved Mysteries?"
no subject
Date: 2009-05-03 09:14 pm (UTC)no, seriously, thanx so much... this type of thing -- action sequences, physical positioning, etc -- is very difficult for me and im glad it' coming across well :)
the next one's up now, love, hope you like :)
no subject
Date: 2009-04-24 05:35 pm (UTC)This update is even better. You do such a great Wilson torturing House. I can't believe had bad off House is and how angry Wilson is. I knew if he didn't get it right it would be bad. This is worse then bad. I bet he gave him the anti-nausea medicine. House is lucky he didn't vomit with the gag in his mouth. He surely would have sufficated.
What's hard is he has to try and convince Wilson how bad off he is but he's not allowed to talk???!!! Without vicodan, surely House will only get worse.
I just love this story. Thanks! Great update. :D
no subject
Date: 2009-05-03 09:12 pm (UTC)thanx, love, glad you liked this.. the next one's up now :)
no subject
Date: 2009-04-24 06:17 pm (UTC)Wonderful work on this. House's suffering is extremely palpatable. I could nearly feel his desperation. Goo work.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-03 09:11 pm (UTC)and yeah, this is sort of a waaaaay exaggerated version of wilson's usual mindset that he knows better than house what's best for him... :(
the next one's up now, hope you enjoy it :)
no subject
Date: 2009-04-24 06:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-03 09:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-03 09:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-24 11:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-25 05:54 pm (UTC)http://www.calgarysun.com/news/alberta/2009/04/25/9242131-sun.html
no subject
Date: 2009-04-25 06:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-25 09:49 pm (UTC)I've been shaken up because I had a literal bird's eye front row center view of the whole thing. But after not sleeping for nearly 24hrs I've managed to drift off for short periods of time.
no subject
Date: 2009-04-26 09:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-03 09:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-05 12:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-05 02:36 pm (UTC)glad you liked it, hon, thanx so much for reading and commenting :)