The Darkest Night

Your windows, opened wide
Your innocence takes flight

To a world where madness craves
To a world where hopes enslaved
Oh, Ill tremble for my love always

"It's one o'clock in the morning! Shouldn't you be in beddy-byes?"

Losing isn't something that Dr. Gregory House has become accustomed to in his forty-six years of life. Therefore, his current position of getting his ass kicked in an online video game by an eleven-year-old was quite disturbing.

"What's the matter old man? Can't take the heat?"

His competitor was ruthless. This on-going duel on Xbox 360 had lasted for hours now, and he had yet to defeat this kid. He considered nothing worse than being defeated by a trash-talking geek who had way too much time on his 'go forth and prosper' hands.

"Take the heat? Come back to me after you've reached third base, kid. You don't know heat til you've– "

His corrupting of a child was halted by one of the most annoying sounds on earth; the ring of a telephone.

" – Hold that thought!"

If the rugged, old, Rolling Stones t-shirt he was wearing wasn't enough to show off what an educated doctor he is, then the headset that was knotted and tangled around his adult body clearly said it all. Clearing his throat, he limped over to phone, ready to be as rude as possible to whomever dared disturb him.

"Someone better be dying."

It wasn't exactly his most creative greeting, and he had used it before, but he figured it would send across the right message.

"House...?" A timid, barely audible voice came through the other line. He didn't recognize it.

"Hello? Look, if this is 'GoDaddy' again, I already sent out the payment. God, you people are impatient."

"House, it's Cuddy." It was a whispered sentenced. He had never heard her speak so softly. A quick-witted comment asking if she had been looking for a late-night booty call trailed off his lips as the sound of sobbing filled his ear. She was crying. Something was wrong.

"What's the matter?" It took a great inner strength and years of practice to overcome his sudden urge to let the concern in his voice be heard.

"P..p..please, help me. I.. I.. – "

"Cuddy! Where are you?" His reputation as a bastard be damned. There was something very disturbing in the way she had requested his help. She was hurt; badly hurt.

"At the hospital. I'm... in the.. par...king gar.r..r..age, in the baa..ck. Hurry. He.. He.. He.."

As her words faded into sobs, House nearly had a heart attack.

"Cuddy, don't move! I'll be there in five minutes, Okay?" His mind was racing at the thought of all the possible situations that could have occurred. Someone had hurt her.

"Okay." He waited for only a second longer to hear a final sob and hiccup from the other line before the connection was lost.

Suddenly, the ache deep within his right thigh had disappeared. House charged through his apartment with the grace of a bull in a china shop. He stumbled, trying to find his shoes and reaching for his jacket before leaving his apartment. Right now his own safety wasn't important as all. Locating his helmet was no priority while knowing that Cuddy was alone and scared after.. Oh god. He did not even want to think of what had happened.

The orange and black blur that was his motorcycle swept through the city streets of Princeton. House somehow managed to avoid being pulled over or killed by his dangerous riding techniques. What should have been a fifteen minute drive to the hospital was completed in just seconds over five.

The roaring engine announced his arrival at the underground parking garage of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. He sped through the empty isles of spaces until he spotted a black Mercedes parked in the corner of the garage. House barely took the time to turn off his motorcycle before throwing it to the ground.

Then he saw her.

There she was, curled into a ball and shaking uncontrollably on the ground next to the car. Her knees were clutched into her chest as she rocked herself back and forth. This is what was left of Lisa Cuddy.

She had obviously heard his presence, but chose not to acknowledge it. House was hesitant as he approached her. He cautiously stepped toward her, trying his best not to startle the Dean of Medicine. The sharp pains in his leg seemed non-existent as he dropped to his knees beside her.

Cuddy lifted her face from where it had been buried under her arms. He had never before seen her look so innocent or vulnerable. In that one moment, House's heart of glass shattered into a thousand pieces. He knew.

She was covered in blood. It streamed from the gash just above her left eyebrow all the way down her cheek. The start of black and blue bruises could be seen everywhere on her body. Aggressive hand prints scarred her arms, and her upper lip had been split. There was not but one inch of her he could see that hadn't been wounded in some way.

House tightly shut his eyes. This had to be a Vicodin-induced hallucination. It seemed incomprehensible that someone could have reduced Cuddy to this. He was going to open his eyes, and find himself sprawled out on the floor of his apartment. This was all just some sick nightmare that was surely about to reach its ending point.

He reached no such luck after hesitantly opening his eyes again. Cuddy's once lively, playful, blue-green eyes that would taunt and tease him endlessly were now glossy, lost, and terrified. She was still shivering, but he had noticed that her sobbing had lessened since his arrival. House gently reached out his hand to touch her, to comfort her. He wanted nothing but to somehow heal all of her pain.

It was a failed attempt. His hand had just grazed the tip of her shoulder when she flinched and scampered away from him, distancing herself from within his reach. He would never forget this look of pure fright in her eyes as she looked up at him. She was in shock, and still nowhere near ready to let her guard down after what had just happened to her.

Tears filled her eyes once more as she returned to the fetal position that he had found her in. House silently vowed to kill the person who had done this to her. He would never allow anything like this to happen ever again. She was all he had left, what with a widowed Wilson who was yet to speak to him since the accident. Cuddy was the only good thing in his life, and someone had almost succeeded in taking her away from him.

One word left his lips as a desperate plea to a God whom he did not believe in. It was whispered into the empty garage on the darkest night of their lives.

"Lisa."

Song: "Tremble For My Beloved" by Collective Soul