Chapter 5: Wrath
Wilson had just opened up the door to his apartment when he heard a faint noise behind him.
Suddenly, his left arm was bent up between his shoulder blades and somebody's right hand clapped over his mouth. He was forced into his apartment very rapidly and he heard the door slam.
He heard a soft whisper in his ear. "Someone didn't close the building door all the way. That's a very bad habit."
Something about the whisper and the size of the hand made Wilson wonder. Was a woman assaulting him? If that was a woman she was pretty damn strong. He didn't have much time to think about this though, as he was being forced face down onto the floor.
"Don't scream or it'll be a lot worse for you," whoever it was whispered, slowly removing a hand from Wilson's mouth.
"Look, I don't have very much cash on me right now--"
"I'm not after your goddamn money, Dr. Wilson."
Wilson's blood ran cold. The use of his name meant this was not some random street crime. He had been specifically chosen. This person was heavily straddling his back at this point and tying his hands.
"It's not exactly fair to jump me from behind--"
He felt a hand slam his ear. "A man who beats up a cripple lectures about fairness?"
OH FUCK. THIS IS ABOUT HOUSE.
"You hypocritical dick." Another ear slam. For some reason, the soft, controlled whisper scared Wilson a lot more than some screaming maniac would have. He felt a gag being pushed into his mouth, then he was yanked to his feet and force-marched down his hall into the bedroom, where he was shoved onto the bed face first and his feet were tied, spread apart, to the foot of the bed.
"If you ever hurt House again, you will regret it. Do you understand?"
"Mmmph." Wilson nodded.
The blow to the back of his head hurt like hell but wasn't enough to knock him out. More rained on his back, his ass and a few choice ones to his balls. He lost track of how long this went on for, then, without a word, his assailant left the apartment, leaving him whimpering.
The next day.
"Wilson, what the hell happened to you? You look like you got hit by a truck!" Cuddy gasped.
"I feel like it. Somebody beat the shit out of me."
"I don't know, I couldn't see them."
"Well, you filed charges, didn't you?"
"I talked to the police, but I couldn't ID anyone. I have some vague idea of who did it but there aren't any clues unless the cops find something."
"What the hell is going on here?! First, House keeps getting into fights that he doesn't want to talk about and calling in sick, now someone uses you for a punching bag! Wait a minute, who do you think did it?!"
"I...um, it doesn't matter. I can't prove anything. Anyway, nobody would believe..." yeah, right, idiot, if too many questions get asked about this it WILL come out that I'm abusing House, who am I kidding? "Look, I'm sure the police will figure this out."
Cuddy stared suspiciously. "At any rate, you're in no shape to go to work. Go home and try to get some rest."