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sick_wilson2011-12-27 02:09 pm
sydpenguinbunny.livejournal.com) wrote in sick_wilson2011-12-27 02:09 pm
Entry tags:
Us Against the World - Chapter Sixteen
Title: Us Against the World
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sydpenguinbunny
Rating: R
Pairing: Wilson/Amber, House/Cuddy, Wilson/House, maybe House/Amber
Spoilers: Up until the end of Season 6.
Summary: Wilson is kidnapped by someone who holds a grudge against House. House is told to come out and play, and Amber refuses to stand by. Time is running out...
Chapter One: A Shot in the Dark
Chapter Two: Empty Chairs at Empty Tables
Chapter Three: Photograph
Chapter Four: Private Eye
Chapter Five: Purity
Chapter Six: Nowhere to Go
Chapter Seven: Nightmare
Chapter Eight: Throwing It All Away
Chapter Nine: Anyone for Tennis?
Chapter Ten: Turn the Page
Chapter Eleven: The Game
Chapter Twelve: Domino
Chapter Thirteen: Runaway
Chapter Fourteen: Dreaming While You Sleep
Chapter Fifteen: Mama
Chapter Sixteen: Handle This
“You've lost what you can't find
Never what you had in mind…”
“No one wants to hear what I think, but I think Taub’s dead wrong,” Masters spoke up as she sat in the lounge with Foreman and Chase. “And I think we should look, ourselves, into what happened to Wilson.”
“So now it’s not enough to be doctors, we have to be detectives, too?” Chase retorted.
“You know I’m right,” Masters continued. “Neither of you think Wilson just ran off. You both know something happened to him.”
“But what can we do about it, though? Just start knocking on doors and knocking heads until we find what we need to know?” Foreman asked.
“Sounds better than sitting on our asses,” Chase retorted. “Wilson could be getting tortured or gutted right now while we’re sitting around trying to figure out what to do.”
“All right,” Foreman said, sighing. “Let’s… Talk to some people. See if they’re heard anything. But no Dirty Harry shit. I’m not getting thrown into prison for doing a bunch of crazy vigilante stuff, because that’s not going to help Wilson, either.” He groaned and stuck his hands further in his pockets. “Maybe we ought to start looking at places Wilson frequents. But … I don’t want to tell House or Amber that we’re looking into this. You know how House is, he doesn’t want anyone involved in his personal stuff but him. Especially not us.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Chase replied noncommittally. “Well… I don’t think they’d have to tell House anything, so why don’t we maybe actually check in with the cops? Maybe they’d be willing to tell us if they know anything.”
“Chase, man, the cops aren’t going to tell us shit. They’re just going to tell us to go home and twiddle our thumbs, call them if we ‘remember’ anything, which of course we don’t because this came out of the blue, or they start looking at us as suspects.”
“Okay, well, then,” Masters broke in, “Why don’t we start by brainstorming? Like House has us do with cases? Let’s get a whiteboard and put all our ideas down and then we can use deductive reasoning.”
“That sounds… reasonable,” Chase agreed. “There’s another whiteboard in the closet… I’ll go get it and meet you guys…”
“Somewhere in the hospital, I guess, but where House won’t run into us,” Masters suggested. “Or Cuddy.”
“We’ll end up meeting in the damn closet, then, House could be anywhere!” Foreman protested.
“’Cept the clinic,” Chase pointed out with a smirk. “Meet you guys in fifteen minutes in the clinic.”
***
“We could ask people if they’ve seen him, if we can figure out where he usually goes,” Masters suggested.
“Other than the hospital or home?” Foreman inquired skeptically.
“Maybe he frequents the same coffeeshop or something. We could ask Starbucks or wherever he goes. It could help us figure out a time-table,” Masters continued. “If we can figure out the last time anybody at all saw him, we can figure out when he must have gone missing.”
“Yeah, but that’s not going to tell us where he is now,” Foreman replied, sinking his head into his palm. “This all just seems futile. How many missing persons ever actually get found?”
“If you’re just going to keep assuming the worst…” Masters countered.
“Come on, you guys,” Chase cut in. “We have to settle on a plan of action. Maybe it isn’t the ‘right’ plan of action, but it’s better than sitting around arguing. I still say we go check with the cops. It’s no use going over territory that’s already been… plowed.”
“All right,” Foreman replied with a sigh, “I’m just wary of going to the cops… You know House and law enforcement aren’t exactly best friends.”
“Yeah, but didn’t we also treat a couple Princeton cops over the last few years?” Chase pointed out. “I mean, they owe us a few.”
“One of whom turned out to be corrupt, stealing fertilizer for his pot plants and infecting me,” Foreman reminded him with a grumble.
“That’s good!” Chase chimed sarcastically. “Play the guilt angle, too. That might get us some points!” Foreman rolled his eyes at him. “C’mon… Let’s go. Let’s not waste any more time.”
***
“Okay, maybe this is… I can understand if we may not be… welcome, here, but we want to help you to, uh, find our colleague, our friend and colleague, Dr. James Wilson.”
Foreman and Chase both began to wonder whether appointing Masters to do all of the talking had been as good an idea as it had seemed in the car. They had figured that her offer of help would be less insulting (or less suspicious) to the officers than if either one of them would have burst in and told them that, basically, they were doing their investigation wrong and needed the assistance of a bunch of doctors for some reason.
“Okay, so let’s backtrack,” the detective behind the counter, a tall and muscular African-American man, replied. “Can you give me that name again? James Wilson?”
“Yeah,” Foreman cut in, “I don’t know what his middle name is… I think his middle initial is A, but I’m not sure.”
The detective typed something into his computer and then hit enter, before scrolling down with a somewhat baffled look on his face.
“I’m sorry, but there’s no record of a James Wilson being reported missing,” he said, looking at the group, confused. “If you’d like, I could talk to my colleagues, maybe your friend talked to Detective Bennett or Detective Tritter?”
Chase and Foreman exchanged looks.
“Detective Tritter,” Foreman replied, his eyes narrowing.
“Yeah… I don’t know why he wouldn’t have put it into the system… but sometimes he likes to kinda work ‘off book’, if you get my meaning.”
“Oh,” Foreman said, his eyes smoldering with rage.
“But listen. I’ll talk to them both, see what I can find out. If you know anything about Dr. Wilson, call me. Here’s my card.” The man handed over a business card that read, “Detective Lee Hamilton”.
Foreman and Chase turned and walked out of the station, followed by a confused Masters.
“We’re on our own,” Chase murmured. “We need to find Wilson on our own.”
* Sum 41 – “Handle This”, All Killer No Filler, 2001
Author:
sydpenguinbunnyRating: R
Pairing: Wilson/Amber, House/Cuddy, Wilson/House, maybe House/Amber
Spoilers: Up until the end of Season 6.
Summary: Wilson is kidnapped by someone who holds a grudge against House. House is told to come out and play, and Amber refuses to stand by. Time is running out...
Chapter One: A Shot in the Dark
Chapter Two: Empty Chairs at Empty Tables
Chapter Three: Photograph
Chapter Four: Private Eye
Chapter Five: Purity
Chapter Six: Nowhere to Go
Chapter Seven: Nightmare
Chapter Eight: Throwing It All Away
Chapter Nine: Anyone for Tennis?
Chapter Ten: Turn the Page
Chapter Eleven: The Game
Chapter Twelve: Domino
Chapter Thirteen: Runaway
Chapter Fourteen: Dreaming While You Sleep
Chapter Fifteen: Mama
Chapter Sixteen: Handle This
“You've lost what you can't find
Never what you had in mind…”
“No one wants to hear what I think, but I think Taub’s dead wrong,” Masters spoke up as she sat in the lounge with Foreman and Chase. “And I think we should look, ourselves, into what happened to Wilson.”
“So now it’s not enough to be doctors, we have to be detectives, too?” Chase retorted.
“You know I’m right,” Masters continued. “Neither of you think Wilson just ran off. You both know something happened to him.”
“But what can we do about it, though? Just start knocking on doors and knocking heads until we find what we need to know?” Foreman asked.
“Sounds better than sitting on our asses,” Chase retorted. “Wilson could be getting tortured or gutted right now while we’re sitting around trying to figure out what to do.”
“All right,” Foreman said, sighing. “Let’s… Talk to some people. See if they’re heard anything. But no Dirty Harry shit. I’m not getting thrown into prison for doing a bunch of crazy vigilante stuff, because that’s not going to help Wilson, either.” He groaned and stuck his hands further in his pockets. “Maybe we ought to start looking at places Wilson frequents. But … I don’t want to tell House or Amber that we’re looking into this. You know how House is, he doesn’t want anyone involved in his personal stuff but him. Especially not us.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Chase replied noncommittally. “Well… I don’t think they’d have to tell House anything, so why don’t we maybe actually check in with the cops? Maybe they’d be willing to tell us if they know anything.”
“Chase, man, the cops aren’t going to tell us shit. They’re just going to tell us to go home and twiddle our thumbs, call them if we ‘remember’ anything, which of course we don’t because this came out of the blue, or they start looking at us as suspects.”
“Okay, well, then,” Masters broke in, “Why don’t we start by brainstorming? Like House has us do with cases? Let’s get a whiteboard and put all our ideas down and then we can use deductive reasoning.”
“That sounds… reasonable,” Chase agreed. “There’s another whiteboard in the closet… I’ll go get it and meet you guys…”
“Somewhere in the hospital, I guess, but where House won’t run into us,” Masters suggested. “Or Cuddy.”
“We’ll end up meeting in the damn closet, then, House could be anywhere!” Foreman protested.
“’Cept the clinic,” Chase pointed out with a smirk. “Meet you guys in fifteen minutes in the clinic.”
***
“We could ask people if they’ve seen him, if we can figure out where he usually goes,” Masters suggested.
“Other than the hospital or home?” Foreman inquired skeptically.
“Maybe he frequents the same coffeeshop or something. We could ask Starbucks or wherever he goes. It could help us figure out a time-table,” Masters continued. “If we can figure out the last time anybody at all saw him, we can figure out when he must have gone missing.”
“Yeah, but that’s not going to tell us where he is now,” Foreman replied, sinking his head into his palm. “This all just seems futile. How many missing persons ever actually get found?”
“If you’re just going to keep assuming the worst…” Masters countered.
“Come on, you guys,” Chase cut in. “We have to settle on a plan of action. Maybe it isn’t the ‘right’ plan of action, but it’s better than sitting around arguing. I still say we go check with the cops. It’s no use going over territory that’s already been… plowed.”
“All right,” Foreman replied with a sigh, “I’m just wary of going to the cops… You know House and law enforcement aren’t exactly best friends.”
“Yeah, but didn’t we also treat a couple Princeton cops over the last few years?” Chase pointed out. “I mean, they owe us a few.”
“One of whom turned out to be corrupt, stealing fertilizer for his pot plants and infecting me,” Foreman reminded him with a grumble.
“That’s good!” Chase chimed sarcastically. “Play the guilt angle, too. That might get us some points!” Foreman rolled his eyes at him. “C’mon… Let’s go. Let’s not waste any more time.”
***
“Okay, maybe this is… I can understand if we may not be… welcome, here, but we want to help you to, uh, find our colleague, our friend and colleague, Dr. James Wilson.”
Foreman and Chase both began to wonder whether appointing Masters to do all of the talking had been as good an idea as it had seemed in the car. They had figured that her offer of help would be less insulting (or less suspicious) to the officers than if either one of them would have burst in and told them that, basically, they were doing their investigation wrong and needed the assistance of a bunch of doctors for some reason.
“Okay, so let’s backtrack,” the detective behind the counter, a tall and muscular African-American man, replied. “Can you give me that name again? James Wilson?”
“Yeah,” Foreman cut in, “I don’t know what his middle name is… I think his middle initial is A, but I’m not sure.”
The detective typed something into his computer and then hit enter, before scrolling down with a somewhat baffled look on his face.
“I’m sorry, but there’s no record of a James Wilson being reported missing,” he said, looking at the group, confused. “If you’d like, I could talk to my colleagues, maybe your friend talked to Detective Bennett or Detective Tritter?”
Chase and Foreman exchanged looks.
“Detective Tritter,” Foreman replied, his eyes narrowing.
“Yeah… I don’t know why he wouldn’t have put it into the system… but sometimes he likes to kinda work ‘off book’, if you get my meaning.”
“Oh,” Foreman said, his eyes smoldering with rage.
“But listen. I’ll talk to them both, see what I can find out. If you know anything about Dr. Wilson, call me. Here’s my card.” The man handed over a business card that read, “Detective Lee Hamilton”.
Foreman and Chase turned and walked out of the station, followed by a confused Masters.
“We’re on our own,” Chase murmured. “We need to find Wilson on our own.”
* Sum 41 – “Handle This”, All Killer No Filler, 2001