someone to stay ; hilson oneshots

2: diagnosis (whumptober 2020)

fills the whumptober prompts "kidnapped" (from #02) and "rescue" (from #05).

-

House sits with his back against the wall, hands bound in front of him in his lap as he stares at the guy keeping him here - wherever here is. He doesn't understand how he's expected to work like this, barely able to move his hands, let alone do much else.

"I don't know what you want from me," House sighs irritatedly, his leg aching without the pills to help. His head hurts, too, from where he'd been clocked.

"I want you to tell me what's wrong with me, dammit," the guy snaps at him as he takes a seat in the wooden chair across from where House sits on the floor. He's got House's cane in his hands, twirling it around. "I've told you all my symptoms, so you need to figure it out."

"Yeah," House replies satirically, "Well that's kinda hard to do without being able to use my hands, or being able to have access to a hospital to... oh, I don't know, say, run tests. You know, those things that you do when you wanna find out what's wrong with someone?" He pauses for a moment before adding, "And it's not like I have a way to treat you even without testing. I don't know what you're expecting from me besides a diagnosis that may end up being false."

"Shut up," the guy tells him as he grips the cane harder, so House does as he's told. "I've heard all about you and how good you are. You have a reputation. You're a smart doctor who tends to be mostly right, so I know you can figure it out. When you have, I'll let you be on your way and I'll start my treatments."

"So you'd rather settle for me being mostly right here alone with you, based solely on your symptoms, which may land you with a false diagnosis and treatments that do nothing to help you, rather than having me be definitely right in a hospital with a team of other doctors to help me run the tests I need to figure out what's wrong with you?" House questions in annoyed disbelief. He shakes his head. "Wow. I guess there's just nothing like crazy kidnappers with perfectly flawed logic."

The sound of the cane whacking his shin is loud in the room. House yells out in pain, gritting his teeth at the throbbing feeling that lingers after, but he does his best to try and just breathe through it. That's going to leave a bruise for sure.

He's only been here for a day at most, but it already feels like longer. He wonders how long he'll have to stay until this fucking wacko lets him go.

"All I'm asking for is a diagnosis," the guy says, weirdly calm now in a way that's unsettling. House glares up at him, grinds his teeth.

"Any diagnosis?" he grits out, but receives another whack to his leg for it. Right over the spot he'd already been hit in. House shouts, biting down on his bottom lip to quiet himself. His fingernails dig into his palms as a distraction, but it doesn't really help at all.

"A correct diagnosis," the guy responds with a roll of his eyes and a bite in his tone. House doesn't look up at the guy again.

"I just said-" he then tries, but is once again struck by his own cane in the same spot. "Goddammit, would- would you stop and listen to me?!"

"No," the guy says sharply and leans forward in his chair, "you need to stop and listen to me. Do as you're told and diagnose me. I'll go get checked out and tested by your team, and if you're right, you get to go free and they'll get you back. If you're wrong, you'll stay here and give me something else they can work with." The guy stops for a moment, smiling a little. "Nobody knows where you are except for me. Remember that."

House keeps his mouth shut in fear of being hit again, but he nods. He doesn't have much of a choice but to listen. He goes over the symptoms in his head again and lists the first thing he thinks of. "Could be MS. If you take my phone and call my team, I'll order them to test you."