A/N This fic is the sequel to my other story - Pain Control. It is set in the CollarRedux universe created by oflymondddreams although it is AU to their stories. As a quick recap of the CollarRedux universe House is a slave at PPTH while all the other regulars are not. Wilson is fairly obsessed with House. In Pain Control House had his leg amputated against his will as a means of controlling his pain. At the end of Pain Control Wilson tagged House, this story takes up straight afterwards.
Warning : The CollarRedux universe is a dark one, this story will contain dark themes, including non consensual sex, physical abuse and dark!Wilson
Thanks as always to Oflymonddreams for creating the CollarRedux universe and letting me play in it (and I also stole the title of this fic from one of their chapters :)
House stood on the office balcony, hands on the rail and stared at the entrance to the hospital below. He was four floors up, the ground below was concrete. If he could reach the ground from here all his pain would end. He'd be free at last. Except, there were suicide nets under the balcony, he'd never reach the ground, and he'd decided long ago that he wouldn't surrender in that way.
He'd scrubbed himself under the shower, trying to feel clean again, after Farring's and then the guards use of him. Then he'd obeyed Cuddy's order and reported to the groomer for a shave and hair cut. Now, dressed in clean clothes and groomed, none of his injuries could be seen. He had glanced in the mirror in a bathroom and seen a well presented slave looking back at him.
As he looked over the balcony he tried to decide, ask Wilson to tag him or not? He really had no alternative but to ask him, but for one of the few times since he'd become a slave someone had given him a choice. Wilson would only tag him if he asked. He didn't want to be tagged by Wilson, and he didn't want to give up that choice lightly.
His eyes narrowed as he saw a black van pull up and some uniformed people get out. It was a Slave Administration Centre van. The officers walked into the front entrance of the hospital. He swallowed hard, the uniform was slightly different now but he remembered people like that from the Centre, where he'd spent his first months as a slave, being taught how to be an object for other people to use.
He heard movement behind him, it was Wilson, coming out onto the balcony, that gleam in his eye that was always there when he looked at House..
"Greg, are you okay? Did Farring..."
Wilson trailed off delicately. Of course he couldn't say 'did Farring abuse you?', 'did Farring rape you?' because neither of those acts could be committed against a slave.
House grinned, a humourless grin that showed all his teeth. He didn't feel amused, he felt bleak, like the very few things he had left in life were escaping his grasp.
"You win."
Wilson did that stupid puzzled look he did so well, though he could see the man's eyes come alive with calculation.
"Sorry Greg, I'm not sure what you mean."
"I want you to tag me."
Wilson smiled, a genuine, lustful smile. The smile of a man who has had his fondest wish granted.
"You want me to tag you? What brought this on?"
"Does it matter?" House asked, weary beyond belief. "Just do it, do it now. I want you to do it now."
"You need to kneel, I need you to kneel."
House looked at him, wondering if Wilson knew just how hard that would be for he handed his crutches to Wilson, and got down awkwardly, head down, hands by his side for balance. He knelt, just as he had knelt for Farring last night.
Wilson bent down and lifted his chin up. The tag was in his hands, House could read Wilson's name in bright letters on the silver metal. Wilson's hands were shaking slightly as he reached out and clipped it to the front d-ring on his collar.
"You're in my care now Greg, my care and my control. You're my responsibility. No-one besides me can use you. You're safe now."
He took his hands away and the tag remained, attached to his collar, marking him for all to see as Wilson's property. When Wilson put his arms around him he let him help him to his feet, his leg was trembling and Wilson had his crutches.
"This will be good for you Greg. I'm going to care for you, and protect you. You just have to listen to what I say now and let me help you. Now come inside and I'll get you some pain medicine and find you something to eat and drink, you look like you're about to collapse."
Wilson handed him his crutches back and House got them underneath him.
"Yes, Master."
"You don't have to call me..." Wilson started and then broke off, apparently realising that House was mocking him. Anger passed over his face briefly and then he nodded and turned to go inside.
House took a last look over the balcony, the van was still there and there was no sign of the SAC officers. He felt a shiver pass through him, an omen of something bad coming, and then shook it off.
He followed Wilson inside, into Wilson's office on his side of the balcony.
Cuddy's secretary hovered nervously in the doorway, glancing back at someone in the outer office.
"Doctor Cuddy, there are some officers from Slave Administration here to see you."
She looked up and her first thought was 'Greg'. Ridiculous really as the hospital had dozens of slaves and there was no reason to think that this visit had anything to do with Greg, or indeed any of the slaves the hospital kept. Still, it was unusual, she didn't remember the last time she'd had a visit from Slave Administration.
She glanced at her watch, she had ten minutes until her next appointment.
"I've got a little time Julie, send them in, but tell them they only have ten minutes."
Two officers entered, a man and a woman. They introduced themselves by their surnames, Reilly and Anderson.
"I know you're busy Doctor Cuddy so we will keep it short. We're looking for an escaped slave, we've tracked him to New Jersey and we have reason to believe he may seek treatment in a hospital in the area at some stage."
Cuddy was startled, an escaped slave was very rare, any that did run were usually quickly tracked down. The penalty for escaping, and for anyone who helped the escapee, was severe.
Reilly gave her a photo of a man, fairly ordinary looking except for the collar around his neck. He had that cowed look that most slaves had.
"His name is Gary, we just need to know if any of your staff have seen him, or whether he's been admitted here."
Cuddy studied the photo, she didn't remember seeing the man, but she really had little contact with any patients, except for the few she saw in the clinic when she did her weekly stint there. She handed it back.
"Patient records are confidential of course, but you can certainly ask around and see if anyone recognises him. If anyone gives you the name of a patient you can apply for a warrant to see his records."
Reilly nodded, "That's fine Doctor Cuddy. We'll speak to the nurses on each floor, they are usually the ones most likely to recognise a former patient."
Cuddy breathed a relieved sigh when they had left her office, so, nothing to do with Greg after all.
Wilson got Greg to sit down when they entered his office. Despite the fact that he'd obviously been to the groomer, and had fresh clean clothes on he looked haggard. Wilson knew he'd had little pain relief in the last few days, and probably very little good sleep. He was pleased that Greg had nonetheless made an effort to tidy himself and present himself nicely to Wilson before asking Wilson to tag him.
Well, it was now Wilson's job to take care of Greg and he was going to start right away.
He went to his desk drawer and fished out a couple of ibuprofen.
"Here, take these, I still need to speak to Cuddy about stronger pain relief for you but these should help for now. You're to come to me for your dosages as normal, every morning and evening, and I won't let anyone mess with that schedule. You need to get back to physical therapy too, you've missed that the last few days. I'll have a word with them down there about you. I don't want them physically punishing you when I'm not there."
"You want to watch?" Greg asked.
Wilson frowned at him.
"You're mine now, it's important that everyone knows that. You're still a slave, and I can't stop you being punished for bad behaviour, but I have the right to be there, to make sure you're not abused."
Greg didn't say anything, instead he swallowed the ibuprofen and sat back, absently rubbing his stump with his hands.
"I'm going to get you some breakfast, you look like you haven't eaten in a month. I'll bring you breakfast every morning, lunch and dinner at night so you don't have to go down to the slave canteen. This is going to be good Greg, we'll get you healthy again. If you can stay out of trouble, do your physical therapy and get back to the clinic and your patients I might be able to talk Cuddy into getting you fitted with a prosthetic in time. She's pretty mad at you right now, and there's a few problems with the Board, so it might be a while."
Greg was just looking at him, a wary expression in his eyes. Wilson sighed.
"Greg, you said you wanted this," he reached over to touch Greg's tag where it was proudly displayed on his collar. "Do you want me to take this off? Have you had second thoughts?"
Greg swallowed and looked away.
"No," he said in his quiet voice.
"Then you need to let me take care of you. We need to get you set in a routine, you need the discipline of that. Therapy, then breakfast, then clinic, diagnostics, lunch, diagnostics again, dinner, and then your evening clinic shift. Meds with breakfast and dinner. I'll take you home some nights, and as many weekends as I can. Sound good?"
"Peachy."
"Okay, now lie down on the couch for a bit. I'm going to get you some breakfast, and then you can have a sleep here while I do rounds. Take it easy today unless a patient comes in."
"Okay."
Wilson watched Greg as he stretched out on the couch. He still looked anxious and on edge.
Wilson left quietly. Greg was like a wild animal that had to be tamed, domesticated. It would take time to earn his trust and devotion but Wilson had all the time in the world, he wasn't going anywhere.
Doctor Morton was writing up a chart at the nurse's station when the man came in. He was wearing a uniform and as he got closer she could see the badge - Slave Administration Centre, New Jersey. As far as she knew the officers of the Centre worked with newly created slaves, bringing them in initially, and also preparing them for their lives as slaves. Like most free people she had almost no idea of what went on in the Centres, they mostly kept the process very quiet.
There was a slave working in the bathroom by the station, quietly cleaning it. The slaves did them frequently, they were generally very unobtrusive and did a thorough job. Morton often thought of them as little mice, scurrying through the hospital, cleaning it. This one had just come out the door when the officer walked past him. The slave seemed to freeze and then fell to his knees, clasping his hands behind his back and lowering his gaze to the floor. Morton had never seen one of the hospital slaves react quite like that before. They would kneel if requesting something from someone or when being talked to, but when they were passing free people in the corridor they were only required to keep their gaze down and be respectful, otherwise they would never get any work done.
The officer's glance swept over the kneeling slave but he didn't stop. Once he had passed the slave gathered his cleaning equipment and hurried off in the opposite direction, casting a fearful glance over his shoulder as he went.
The officer stopped at the station where Morton was working and produced identification.
"I'm looking for an escaped slave we believe may have come to this hospital recently. This is his photo."
Morton took the photo, the man looked familiar and after a moment she realised why, it was Stephen, the patient Doctor House had been treating only a day ago. Stephen had discharged himself from hospital this morning, against his doctor's advice. He'd seemed to be in a hurry, now she knew why.
She hesitated over the photo, unsure whether she should admit to the officer that she knew him.
"We're not asking for confidential details Doctor, we just need to know if he's been here."
"Yes, yes he has." Morton admitted. "He's not here any more though, he discharged himself an hour or so ago."
"Damn. Do you know where he was going, who he was with?"
"No, he didn't say, he was with his parents I believe."
"Can you tell me what name he was using?"
"Yes, it was Stephen."
"And why he was hospitalized?"
Morton shook her head.
"No, I'm sorry, not without authorisation, patient records are confidential. You'll need a warrant to request those."
The officer frowned at her.
"I'm not asking for his full medical history, just his symptoms He's an escaped slave, you do know what the penalty is for aiding and abetting an escaped slave? If anyone was convicted of that they would be enslaved themselves."
"I'm sorry, I can't release patient names and records." Morton repeated.
"Slaves aren't protected by patient confidentiality."
"He wasn't admitted as a slave. You'll need a warrant."
The officer sighed.
"Okay doc, heard you the first time. I'll get the warrant and we'll be back for his medical file. Once we've captured him we'll find out if anyone here knew about his status, he's a slave, you'd think one of you doctors would have noticed."
"I assure you he wasn't wearing a collar," Morton smiled. "Now, if there's nothing further..."
"No, not for now, we'll be talking to you again soon."
Once the officers were out of sight Morton pulled the file up on the computer. Stephen's attending was listed as Doctor Farring. Under consulting doctors there was a long list, including herself and all of the diagnostic fellows - and the name on the end of that list was written in the correct format for all to see, Greg House M.D (slave).
If the SAC officers wanted someone to interrogate they didn't have to look any further than that name.
Wilson was in the cafeteria when he ran into Doctor Cuddy. He greeted her warmly and she raised an eyebrow.
"You seem chipper Doctor Wilson, have you had good news?"
"I've tagged Greg."
"Ahhh, so we should be seeing some improvement in his behavior then?"
"I'm planning on making sure that he feels well cared for so he won't have to act out like he has been doing. He's had a rough time with Doctor Farring, I think he realises now that this is in his best interest."
"Farring won't be happy, watch your back."
Wilson smiled, nothing was going to spoil his mood today, he wasn't concerned about Farring. He went along the cafeteria line, piling his tray high with goodies for Greg. Cuddy watched the growing pile.
"Hungry, Doctor Wilson?"
"Greg hasn't been eating well lately." Wilson rubbed the back of his neck and then looked back at the food and then up at Cuddy's sardonic smile. He could tell she was wondering who was the slave here. "Well, it's not like he can come and get it himself, and he doesn't like the slave canteen..."
"Of course. He's yours Doctor Wilson, you may do what you like with him, on the proviso it doesn't interfere with his duties as a doctor in this hospital. Just be aware that his behaviour will now reflect upon you. There will be people watching, and judging."
"I can handle Greg," Wilson said confidently.
"I hope you can."
Doctor Farring received a brief phone call that morning from Doctor Cuddy's assistant, Doctor Cuddy would not have time to meet with him that afternoon as she had suggested. This was followed by an email to all PPTH staff that the diagnostics slave Greg had been tagged by the head of Oncology, Doctor Wilson so that all complaints about Greg, or requests for Greg's services should proceed through Doctor Wilson's office rather than straight to Doctor Cuddy's office.
Farring deleted the email angrily. Only this morning Doctor Cuddy had been all but promising to allow him to tag Greg, now Wilson had done it first, presumably with her permission. Doctor Cuddy had allowed him to have Greg in his department and then to take him out of the hospital for the night. She had never allowed that before, not for anyone but that woman who had tagged him years ago.
Now he wondered if she had been playing he and Wilson off against each other and had never had any intention of considering his request to be allowed to tag Greg.
He wanted that slave. He was perfect, just what he had always wanted. He'd been looking forward to many nights with him, bringing him under perfect discipline. Now he couldn't even touch him, Wilson had exclusive sexual rights to him. He could request his services for his department, but that would be like having a toy you couldn't play with. Although, he would be allowed to punish him, if Wilson was there as well. He'd seen the look in Wilson's eyes when he'd been whipping Greg with the belt, he didn't think Wilson would object to watching more of Greg's punishments.
In fact, he thought Wilson might rather enjoy it.
A/N - If you enjoyed this chapter I would love to hear from you, anonymous reviews are turned on :)