Chapter Text
PPTH New Jersey, June 15th 2006 at 9:05 pm.
It had been a pretty standard day at the hospital. Trying to figure out complicated diagnosis’s, writing down symptoms, insulting the team. A very standard day in Houses book. The only thing that was out of the ordinary was dealing with an obnoxious pig getting up in his business.
Fucking Michal Tritter.
House hated a lot of people, but this man really takes the cake. Maybe they perhaps got off on the wrong foot, maybe House shouldn’t have shoved a broken thermometer up the guys ass, but hey, sometimes things just happen. So now this has led to getting searched, his place broken into and trashed, having no access to his medication, and in turn spending a night in jail.
He had barely been getting by on small doses of Tylenol and Advil which, while it helped, didn’t exactly have the same effect as narcotics. The days felt painstakingly long without that little chunk of hope to keep him sturdy. It also turns out that quitting a substance you’ve been using for years without stopping gives you extremely bad withdrawal symptoms. So all in all, the past while had not been great at the slightest.
House had stayed late this night, going over what they had found out today in the DDX. He let everyone go home for the night, staying behind incase anything popped up. It was fine though, he was more of a night owl anyway. Stay up all night and sleep all the rest of next day. Staying up kept him busy, he liked busy. He liked the puzzles and having something to do. He liked…having purpose.
As he stares at the whiteboard in front of him, scribbled all over in black marker, he hears the glass door to his office open. He looks over, breaking out of thought. Guess he wasn’t the only one who had been working late tonight.
“Just you?” Wilson questions as he steps into the room, looking around.
“Told them I’d call if i figured anything out. But yeah, everyone’s gone.” House replies, turning back to the board.
“Do you want a ride home? I’ve got some stuff in the car but that’s moveable.” Wilson says.
House shakes his head “no, I’ve decided I’m staying late tonight. I can drive myself anyways.”
Wilson sighs softly “alright, well Im going but uh…message me when you get home.”
“Yeah, yeah. Okay mother hen.” House mocks.
Wilson gives him a curt nod while he walks to the door.
“Night House.” He says.
“Night Wilson.” House says back, not looking over.
————
11:30 pm
House finally leaves the building, he decided he would try to take another crack at everything tomorrow. It was late and he was tired, hungry, and just wanted to pass out at home. He walks out towards the hospital parking lot. It’s quiet outside, calm, peaceful.
Stars glisten over head and the moon shines brightly from behind a few thin clouds. He never knew it could be this silent outside. Multiple cars were gone, only a few remained still in the lot.
His motorcycle was parked only a couple spaces away from the entrance. There was a big black car parked near it that he had never seen before, he had gotten familiar with the different vehicles that strolled in here each day. It was dirty, had large tires, all windows tinted, even the front ones.
He stood studying it for a while, looking at all the details. Everything suddenly felt eerie, like he wasn’t…alone. He blinked, shaking his head. It was just a regular car, there was probably lots like that around. There was no reason to feel weird about it.
He gets out his key, turning on the ignition. The vehicle roars to life, light flashing onto the asphalt below. Home time, finally.
Then he feels something hard and heavy hit the back of his head, he’s on the ground before he can even process what’s happening. Houses lifts his head from the ground, head spinning, vision unfocused. He feels warm, sticky liquid running down the back of his head onto his neck. Pressure is slammed down on his bad leg, a agonizing burning pain radiating. He has to stop himself from crying out, body shaking. He hesitantly looks up, seeing….oh god…oh fuck.
“Gregory House….” Tritter says, a cigarette between his teeth. House audibly sighs, despite being in so much agony he can’t move.
“So I guess…throwing me in jail wasn’t enough huh?” House says, voice strained.
Tritter doesn’t respond, he reaches into his belt, pulling out a hand gun. House hears the click of the safety going off, it makes his blood run cold. Tritter steps off of his leg, keeping the gun pointed.
“Stand up, now.” He says.
House begrudgingly obeys, legs barely supporting him as he stands, the change in elevation making him dizzy.
“Hands, behind your head.” Tritter instructs once more.
House hesitates but does so anyway. He can feel the open wound on his head still bleeding. Hell he might have a fracture or a concussion.
Tritter opens the door on the back of the van and gestures with his gun to get in. House looks at the van and back at Tritter, bewildered.
“Are you serious?” He says.
Tritter points the gun down at one of Houses knees.
“Or I could just shoot you?” He says.
House glares at him before struggling into the van, sitting down on the dirty floor. Tritter gets in with him, grabbing some rope in the back.
“Oh come on! Is this really necessary?” House protests. He gets ignored again, hands being tied tightly behind his back. Along with his legs. The second thing Tritter grabs is a black fabric bag. He’d had this all planned out before. It gets pulled over Houses head, completely blocking out his vision.
“You’re a smart man, I’ll give you that. So whatever you’ve thought about doing to escape, I’ve already thought of a way to prevent that. I know how people like you think.”
It’s the last thing Houses hears before the doors get shut and the place is enveloped in darkness. He sits there, helpless. Only the hum of the road to keep him company. All he wanted to do was to go home. He should’ve taken Wilson’s offer, he should’ve just slept in his office, he should’ve, he should’ve, he should’ve.
The drive seemed so long, then again his perception of time could be warped. He didn’t know what direction they were heading, where he was being taken to, or who was going to be there. He couldn’t do anything to stop it.
All he could do was comply. The ropes rubbed harshly against his wrists, those were definitely going to leave marks. He felt absolutely awful, whether that was because of the throbbing pain in his head, the ache of his leg, or that he had been breathing in his own carbon dioxide for god knows how long.
Eventually the van comes to a stop. At least he probably won’t have to sit in darkness anymore. A moment passes and the doors open, letting in fresh air. He can feel himself being lifted upwards and being pushed out of the back of the vehicle, a gun pressed against his skull. The ropes on his feet get cut, allowing him a little bit of free movement.
House can feel himself being pushed along again. He walks awkwardly, not being able to see and having nothing to lean his weight on. Eventually he hears the sound of a door opening, and he steps inside. The bag is taken off of his head, he blinks, adjusting to his surroundings. It’s a shack of some kind. Dusty, dirty, old, probably abandoned since forever. There’s a few windows, bordered up of course, ratty ceiling pipes, grass growing through the floor, cobwebs, and in the corner…a barbed wire cage.
“Cozy…” he mutters under his breath.
“Move.” Tritter orders, giving him a shove.
House limps towards the cage. He guesses this is where he’s going to stay for god knows how long. The door gets unlocked and he steps inside. There was nothing, not even a hole to go to the bathroom in.
The ropes on his wrist get cut, finally he has full mobility in all his limbs. He rubs the skin around where the binds had been, there was a slight sting.
“Can I have my shit back now or are you just gonna take that too?” House says, glaring up at the man in front of him.
“Oh,” Tritter says, looking over at Houses bag and cane “you won’t be needing anything in here.”
House rolls his eyes, can’t even have the curiosity of a mobility aid in this bitch apparently.
“Let’s see what we got in here.” He watches as Tritter moves towards his bag, picking it up, and dumping out the contents inside of it.
The first thing Tritter spots is the bottle of Tylenol. He scoffs, eyeing House.
“Of course, you’d do anything to get your fix.” He sneers.
“Yeah, I had to switch over recently. Some douche bag took all my prescribed medication. Isn’t that crazy?” House retorts back.
The other things inside were a change of clothes, random scraps of paper, few pens, a phone, a pair of wired earbuds and a pocket knife. That was the thing that Tritter took interest in. He picks it up and flips open the blade. He turns it around before looking at House.
“I know my way around a blade.” He says confidently.
“Oh I’m sure you do.” Tritter says in reply.
He shoves everything back in the bag before tossing it to the side and walks closer to House again.
“I’m keeping all of that. You’re not going to need it. Everything you have belongs to me now.” He says, eyeing House up and down.
“Look…If this is what gets your dick hard, then I really want no part in this.” House retorts.
A moment later he’s met with a gun slamming against the side of his head. Pain bursts from behind his eyes, ears slightly ringing. He nearly falls, barely catching himself against the wall. It takes him a minute to recover, he blinks rapidly.
“You’re sarcastic quips mean nothing in here. This isn’t your hospital, the ball ain’t in your court.” Tritters says slightly looming over the man infront of him. House looks over, hatered festering. He glares strongly, wanting so badly to beat the ever living shit out of this guy.
“We’re gonna go over some rules, rules you clearly need. If you fail to abide by these, I will make it worse for you, i promise that.” Tritter threatens, putting the gun in his belt.
“Number one, don’t scream. If you do so, I’ll just hit you harder. Number two, you’ll say thank you after every time I hurt you, you deserve it. Number 3, if I ask you to do anything, you do it. Number 4, everything is a privilege and I will take it away if I think you’re not complying.” Tritter explains, grabbing House harshly, forcing him upright and making him maintain eye contact.
House stares, not looking away. No matter what, he was always going to be the one pulling the strings no matter what. He wouldn’t be intimidated.
“Four rules, easy to remember. Do you understand?” Tritter says.
House remains silent, staring with a look of pure rage.
Tritter reaches for his gun again. House feels a surge of panic and puts a hand out.
“Wait…” he grumbles “yes, I understand.”
Tritter lets him go and steps away slowly.
“See? That’s all you needed to say.”
He walks out of the cage and closes it behind him, locking it as-well. House is now officially stuck here. Tritter packs up the rest of Houses stuff and heads towards the door of the shack.
“I’m not afraid of you.” House calls out.
Tritter looks back, eyes scanning up and down.
“You will be.”
And with that he leaves House in a small, lonely, cold darkness.