A/N: Ok, so today was really boring (even though it was duct tape day, don't ask! It's homecoming week.) I came up with this story the other day after I kept singing one of my favorite songs over and over, then while eating what ever crap they were serving for lunch this idea popped into my head. Then I just decided to run with it. I've had a few people read over the rough drafts and they absolutely fell in love with this story.

This story probably won't be updated again until Sunday, but I'll try to have a few updates ready so I can just post them before I leave.

Friday (tomorrow) is the big Homecoming Game/Dance. All my friends are going and I never see them anymore (high school sucks in more ways than one.). I have to go to the homecoming game because the band is there, but then there is the dance (HAUNTED HOMECOMING!) and I really want to go. The dance goes until 11 P.M., and I have to be at school at 8:30 Saturday because we have the big ISSMA Marching Festival and our band director will murder me if I miss it.

So yeah, there's my weekend in a nutshell.

Description: A knock at the door and then nothing is right ever again. More things are shattered than just possessions. Life will be in a million little pieces, who can help pick them up? A House and Wilson strong friendship story.

Disclaimer: All the glory that is this character, alas, does not belong to me; I'm just borrowing House, Wilson, and Cuddy for awhile. Don't worry; I'll put them back when I'm finished.

"Dear God"

Installment One

"Door Knocks and Lost Causes"

House was sitting in the dark, the television was on, but left muted. His eyes stared straight ahead at the screen, slightly unfocused. Spongebob darted across the screen singing the "F-U-N" song silently.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

The barrage of pounding sounded as if it were trying to stampedethrough the entrance. He plucked himself from the couch, wincing as the leg protested his weight. He hadn't taken his medication since he arrived at home, holding it off by elevating his leg on a pillow and moving as little as possible. Limping to the door without his cane wasn't his brightest idea of the evening. He carefully distributed his weight on the door frame and pried it open. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the man at his doorstep.

"Who are you?" House uttered in his most commanding voice possible.

"Oh me?" the man pointed to his chest "I'm your worst nightmare."

This man was young in his mid twenties, but he was built like a brick wall. He towered over House by at least half a foot. His arms were rigidly muscled, and his chest was sculpted by the huge muscles that lay beneath. House backed up about half a step, the man looked like he was ready to beat the shit out him the first chance he got, he didn't want to give him that opportunity. He reached out a powerful arm and pushed House back further, out of the way.

House gritted his teeth as he stepped down on the right leg, shooting pain erupted from the thigh and meandered down to his foot and up his spine. His right hind gripped at the wasted muscle trying to achieve the lost cause of dissipating the ache of misfiring nerves. He backed up into the wall using it for support.

"Nice place ya got here." the man stated, admiring one of the two guitars mounted on the wall beside the grand piano. The guitar was House's favorite, a Yamaha acoustic his mother bought for his birthday when he was in 8th grade. His father hated the fact that his mother had to buy him something noisy out of all the other perfectly good quiet gifts out there. The wood was well worn now and it had gone through more than its share of guitar strings but, the thing still played as perfect as the day he received it. House slowed his breathing, trying not to let on that he was in severe pain. He wouldn't tell this to his best friend and he sure wasn't admitting it to someone he didn't even know.

The man took a step forward and with one swift motion, sent the guitar flying off its rack straight at the piano. House had to look away as the guitar collided with the piano, creating a large gouge in its otherwise perfect finish. Most of the guitar's body was splintered and scattered on the floor, all that remained was a section of the neck. House ignored the momentary flare of pain as he advanced at the man. A strong hand reached out to stop him in his tracks, pushing into his chest, he was held back.

"I don't think you wanna mess with me gimp." His hand flipped up to grip into House's shoulder. House let out a wimper as the man's nails dug into what little flesh there was above the bones. In one last attempt to escape, he tried to twist away. He failed, all the energy draining from him.

"Let go." He murmured out. The man spun House around and wrenched his arm up behind his back. In this position he was helpless, the man had complete control over him. He could feel his leg threatening to give out, what was left of the muscle straining and failing to keep up as too much pressure was added on.

The man jabbed his other elbow into House's back forcing him to his knees. House screamed as his leg went into revolt for the abuse, the man just tightened up an increment on House's arm. House felt the tendons, ligaments and muscles of his shoulder pull and stretch beyond their means, he feared the bone would pop out of socket any moment now. Finally, a bone jarring crack brought tears to his eyes, he was sure his shoulder was dislocated and a bone in his forearm was broken. The man let House's arm go and it flopped uselessly to his side. He reached for it with his left hand, palpating the tender skin of the shoulder before stopping to hold it still. As a doctor he knew, the less movement, the less damage. His breathing was labored and he struggled to get it under control.

"What do you want." He said, his voice barley above a whisper. He was in too much pain to manage anymore volume.

"Me? I want lots of things, your lifefor example." The man paraded proudly around House like he was his soon to be kill.

"So, what I insulted you in the clinic?" House had no idea who this man was, he was sure he never seen this man before, but he was here now, that meant he had to have seen him somewhere once before..


"Killed a family member?" The man was silent after this. "So-"

"Stop talking!" House was cut off as the man's thick soled boot came around to make an attack at his side.The contact caused two of his ribs to snap like toothpicks, but the kicks kept coming. House was curled in on himself, his breathing shuddered from his injuries, he just hoped the man had done what he had came for.

"Are you gonna talk again?" House didn't respond, but he did hear the man rustling for something behind the piano. "I asked you a question gimp!" House still didn't answer, he had no energy left to do so. The man smacked the neck of the broken guitar heavily onto House's right thigh. The pain blinded him and nearly sent him into shock, he wasn't aware of it but he screamed loudly, somehow angering the man.

"You talked." The man said, standing above House staring straight into his eyes. House quickly glanced at the man. The man chuckled as he saw the weakness and pain hidden behind House's eyes. He struck again with the guitar neck this time bringing it down across House's skull. House slumped and stopped moving, a pool of blood quickly collecting under him. The man dropped what was left of the now more than useless chunk of wood and it landed next to House's left arm. The man walked out of the apartment triumphantly, he had done his job, it was over.

Rrrrring! Rrrrring! Rrrrring!

The sound of the phone cut through the thick eerie silence of the room. The message machine picked up for the seventh time that night.

"You've reached a number that has been disconnected and is no longer in service. If you feel you've reached this recording in error, go ahead, hang up on three. One, two, BEEP!" The message said once again.

"House, pick up it's me Wilson. I was just wondering if you wanted me to come over, I'll bring take out! Come on House, pick up."

The resounding beep signaling the end of the messages was the last sound in the apartment as quiet settled once again.

A/N: I hope you like it, read and review.