This is set in the CollarRedux universe created by oflymondddreams though it is AU to their stories. If you aren't familiar with the CollarRedux stories you should stop and go and read them first, and if you enjoy them please review the author to encourage them to keep writing :)

As a quick recap this universe is a version of PPTH where Greg is a slave, and Wilson is extremely interested in him...

This particular story is VERY AU to the canon CollarRedux Universe, though it uses the general framework created by oflymonddreams and references events, and people, in that universe.

Warnings for this story are spoilers so I have included them at the bottom of the chapter - there is what could be considered to be disturbing content and mistreatment of Greg.

Please leave a review if you feel so inclined, anonymous reviews are turned on.

Greg was in such a critical condition that he had been permitted in the main area of the hospital rather than the slave ward. He was restrained by ankles and wrists to the bed and in a room by himself so as not to disturb the free people with his screaming.

The slave was in agony, the pain killers he was permitted barely touching his ongoing pain.

A young intern had been assigned to Greg's case and he now stood at the foot of the bed presenting the case to Dr Cuddy.

" the patient suffered significant muscle death due to the delay in diagnosing his infarction..."

"...four day delay. Due to the incompetence of the doctors you hire." Greg spat out, staring at Cuddy. His pain was overcoming some of the caution that had been beaten into him. Cuddy ignored him and the young doctor continued.

"The decision was made to remove the clot and defer amputation until the patient's progress could be assessed. Post operative pain was extreme and the patient suffered a myocardial infarction. He was revived medically."

"Recommended course of treatment?"

"Debridement of the muscle in the thigh to remove the decayed tissue, this should lower the pain level though there will be some loss of function to the leg."

"No! Put me in a coma, let me ride out the worst of the pain." Greg strained against his bonds, his eyes wide, his heart rate rising dangerously again.

"That's not your choice to make Greg. The risk to your life is too high, the hospital has too much invested in you to chance it. The debridement is the best option to get this over with.." Cuddy said dismissively, signing off on his chart, handing it back to the intern. "Get him booked in for surgery ASAP ."

"I'll be in pain! I've seen the scans – they'll have to take so much muscle that the leg will be virtually useless. You might as well have amputated it."

"That's enough Greg! You begged us not to amputate, and we agreed to that but we cannot allow any further risk to the hospital's investment. You will receive rehab for the leg to enable you to regain function. We cannot take the risk of losing you. This is the best course of action."

"No! Don't do this!" Greg pulled at the restraints, his pain giving him added strength. Cuddy stepped away from the bed.

She turned to the intern. "Sedate him, there is no need for him to be awake. When he wakes up the surgery will be over with."

She turned and left the room without another glance at Greg. The intern looked helplessly at his patient.

"I'm sorry, but maybe it won't be too bad. You'll probably just need some crutches or a cane to walk with. It really is for the best."

The young intern injected a sedative into the IV and watched as the slave struggled against the sedation, a tear rolling down his cheek. Finally Greg fell asleep, heavily drugged. The intern adjusted the sheet around his patient, trying to give him some dignity.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to the sleeping man. He returned to the nurse's desk to make the arrangements for the surgery.

When Greg awoke it was to a heavily mutilated leg, lameness and crippling pain.

Wilson was working in his office when he heard a commotion in the office next door. That could only mean Greg.

When he entered the diagnostics conference room he found the three junior doctors seated around the table, all staring at the activity in Greg's small office. Greg was kneeling down in the doorway between his office and the conference room. His hands were cuffed behind his back and a security guard was holding his shoulder tightly. Cuddy was standing next to him. Two other security guards were systematically going through Greg's office and bed area.

"Dr Cuddy? What's going on?" Wilson came up to them, shooting a glance at Greg. Greg looked back at him blankly. The position he was in had to be hurting his bad leg but he made no complaint.

"Good morning Doctor Wilson. We are searching Greg's office for drugs."

"Drugs? But Greg gets his Oxycontin at the pharmacy twice a day – they watch him take it."

"Apparently Greg has also been getting drugs from Lou the janitor, and from who knows where else. We've had Lou under surveillance – Greg here has been giving him some special services in return for whatever Lou could get hold of." Cuddy held up a small plastic bags full of little sample satchets of pills. No doubt pilfered from various Doctor's offices. "He's secreted them all over this office. Been taking little extras whenever he wants."

"I'm in pain! What you are giving me isn't enough. I only take them when I need them." Greg put in. The security guard pulled his head back by the hair and growled at him to shut up.

Cuddy ignored Greg's protests. Instead she addressed the security detail.

"Finish in here, and then do the conference room. Bring everything you find me to me, everything – including any personal items and any contraband."

She looked down at Greg, staring straight into his angry blue eyes.

"Take the slave to the basement. Strip him and search every inch of him carefully for drugs, he probably has some on him. Then he will get his punishment – 100 lashes Greg."

Cameron gasped and even Foreman started to rise in protest. Wilson felt his stomach clench at the thought.

"Ten a day, every day, until they are finished. You are not missing any time at work for this. You'll work in the clinic from 8.00 in the morning till 10.00 at night every day during that period, unless you have a patient. You will have no pain relief for the duration. You will be drug tested every day. After the ten days the diagnostics maintenance committee will meet and decide what is to be done about your medication."

"I need the drugs..." Greg protested, seeming more scared at the prospect of losing his pain relief than at the whippings. "I can't work without them."

"Take him away and give him the first ten lashes and then take him to the clinic to start his extra shift." Cuddy instructed the guards.

Two guards hauled Greg to his feet. He was boneless between them, helpless to fight back but trying to passively resist.

"Please Dr Cuddy. I need something, I can't manage without it."

"That's enough Greg. You've brought this on yourself. Take him away."

The guards hauled him bodily out the room, silencing his protests with a quick elbow to the midriff. His frantic gaps for air could be heard as they disappeared down the corridor.

Cuddy turned to the Fellows who were staring after Greg, their expressions shocked.

"If I find that any of you have supplied Greg with drugs you will find your contracts very quickly terminated. "

They all protested and shook their heads. She turned to Wilson.

"That applies to you as well Doctor Wilson."

"I don't like what you are implying Dr Cuddy."

Cuddy smiled. "No, you wouldn't would you? Never mind, I forgot, you wouldn't want to give him pills to ease his pain would you Doctor Wilson?"

Wilson flushed, knowing that she knew that he enjoyed Greg's pain.

"If he's been taking more than we've been giving him, he is probably addicted to some degree. He'll start showing withdrawal symptoms very shortly. He may not be able to work." Wilson pointed out.

Cuddy smiled. "The good thing about keeping slaves Doctor Wilson, is that you don't have to give them a choice. Greg will work."

Wilson entered Cuddy's office, trying his best to appear casual but with his heart pounding. He had heard what had happened with Greg from the fellows. They had come rushing into his office as soon as they could get away, all apparently expecting him to do something about the situation.

Cuddy looked up at the intrusion.

"Doctor Wilson, I should have expected you. You might as well take a seat."

"Is Greg okay?"

"Greg assaulted a patient's father. He had better hope that he is correct about his diagnosis. We'll know within 24 hours. Meanwhile the father has been busy calling his lawyers who are calling my lawyers. Greg is a pain in my ass."

"Well he very likely saved the kid's life, all while detoxing from narcotics, and receiving ten lashes a day. He must have been in extreme pain. He shouldn't even have had a patient in that state." Wilson pointed out. "Where is he?"

"Security have him under close confinement in the cells. He can stay there until this mess is sorted out." Cuddy looked up at Wilson. "I suppose you want to go see him?"

Wilson did want to see him, very much.

"I'll call down and let them know. You are not to release him, or give him any pain relief. He's brought this on himself. You can check him out though, make sure our expensive asset is still in one piece."

Wilson nodded and hurried out of the office and down to the basement where the hospital's two cells were, right next to the morgue.

A guard let him into the cell, it was smaller than House's little cubicle in diagnostics, with no furniture at all. The light was off until Wilson flicked it on. Greg was seated in a corner of the cell on the floor. His hands were chained in front of him, his ankles also cuffed together with a length of chain. A leash ran from his collar into a tethering point on the wall. A bucket sat next to him and a bowl of water next to that.

Greg was in pain, his face drawn and weary. It had been five days since he started detoxing so most of the most severe side effects were over with but he still had the pain from his leg to contend with, not to mention the fifty strokes of the lash he had endured so far.

"Come to see the condemned?" Greg's voice was a rusty thread.

"They haven't confirmed what the kid has yet. If you were wrong..."

"I'm not wrong."

"Even if you are right, there's no way you are going to escape punishment for this Greg. You struck a free man."

"Who just happened to be a moron and a lousy father. He's been neglecting that kid, if he'd been paying any attention to him we'd have caught it much earlier." Greg sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. "We're going to cure the kid so the father can go on using him as a punching bag."

Wilson came closer and examined him in the dim light of the cell. Greg looked like hell, his skin was pale, his beard had grown out, he looked like he hadn't washed or slept in the five days. Wilson could see a bruise on one cheek and a small cut in the corner of his mouth. The guards had strict orders not to hurt him but the father had been quick with his fists.

Wilson took a cloth out of the bag of supplies he had brought with him and poured a little of Greg's water over it. He began to gently clean Greg's face. Greg pulled away from him but with the chains he couldn't go far and subsided as Wilson tenderly wiped the cloth over his face.

"You're just loving this aren't you?"

Wilson ignored the sneer and continued on with his task.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Greg shook his head. "Nothing serious. Just a few bruises, that new guy got in a quick kick to the ribs, where it doesn't show. Of course if you could unchain me that would be good. Even better if you've got some little tablets in your pocket."

"More than my life's worth. Besides Cuddy is in a foul mood – you're better off down here out of the way."

Greg looked down at himself. "Yeah, wouldn't want her to be mad at me, who knows what she could do!"

"You know what she could do."

"You'd like that wouldn't you? Me being whipped some more? Want to see the marks on my back?"

Wilson didn't answer that. The truth was that there was something about the thought of Greg being whipped that did things to Wilson. Even just seeing Greg like this, chained up and helpless was turning him on. He did want to see the marks on his back, very much, and run his hands over them, feel Greg squirm as he played with the welts. Wanted to take him and take care of him, to fuck him – he wanted to own him.

"I'd better go."

Greg looked at him and then looked away. He swallowed hard. Wilson thought that for once Greg didn't want him to leave. Of course very few people would want to be chained up and left alone in a small dark cell. Wilson couldn't stay though., he'd already shown such an interest in this slave that people were beginning to remark on it.

He stood and moved towards the door.

"I'll try and come back later if I can, once we find out for sure about the kid."

As he went to switch off the light he heard a small voice.

"Don't. Please."

Wilson took his hand away from the switch and nodded. Quickly he left the little cell and walked past the guard and down the corridor, back into the warmth and light of the hospital.

Once he was gone the guard went back to the cell and switched the light off.

Greg's diagnosis of the child turned out to be correct. Negotiations were done behind the scenes and Greg was hauled out of his dark hole, taken to Cuddy's office and thrust down onto his knees, still chained and leashed. The father was brought in and Greg managed to choke out a fairly insincere apology for striking him. The man kicked the helpless slave in the groin and as Greg doubled over on the floor he strode out of the room.

"Another satisified customer." Greg ground out between his clenched teeth. "Hopefully he'll tell all his friends."

Cuddy watched him, shaking her head.

"He could have ordered you whipped bloody for what you did. You were lucky that we could buy him off.."

"I was right. I saved his kid's life."

"You hit him! You hit a free man."

"I was in pain! I'm still in pain – I need my pills. I can't work like this Dr Cuddy. I can't think like this."

"Then you shouldn't have stolen the pills Greg. Doctor Wilson advocated for you to go on the Oxycontin and you've betrayed his trust."

"They weren't enough. You people cut out half of my thigh – you know I'm in pain. If you had just done what I asked when I had the infarction I wouldn't have this pain." Greg spat out from where he was lying on the floor.

"You'd be dead." Cuddy turned to the guards. "Take him back to his cell, he can stay there while we decide what to do about him."

Once Greg had been taken away Cuddy called her assistant in and asked her to arrange an emergency meeting of the diagnostic maintenance committee.

Cuddy quickly brought the other members of the committee up to date with what had been happening with Greg.

"We need a long term solution gentlemen. I need you to give me one. I can't keep having him whipped, and it appears that any drug solution we find is either unsuitable for long term use or at danger of being abused by the slave."

"If you recall I advised against using the Oxycontin in the first place, it was ill advised. The slave is an addict, any drug you give him he will abuse." Doctor Moore looked down the table at Wilson, who'd forced through the Oxycontin solution when Greg had been shifted from Methadone some months ago.

"Do you suggest we simply give him nothing?" Wilson asked. "Greg is in pain, he needs something to enable him to function and continue to bring revenue to this hospital. We've just seen what can happen when his pain isn't controlled adequately."

"Well, we could try some non-narcotic solutions along with therapy and alternative treatments. However the slave is very non-compliant, he will find drugs from elsewhere if we don't supply them."

Moore sat back in his seat and shook his head.

"We have been through this before. I would suggest that we stop treating the symptom and address the cause. Do what should have been done in the first place and amputate the leg."

There was a shocked silence around the table.

"His pain will stop, the need for a drug regimen will be averted. The slave will become happier and more functional. A win for everyone." Moore added. "You can administer regular drug tests afterwards to make sure the slave is not obtaining drugs for other more...recreational purposes."

"The cost of a prosthetic would seem to be prohibitive, not to mention the rehabilitation period that he would require..." Cuddy said.

"Who said anything about a prosthetic? We are not required to fit a slave with one. It is not medical treatment, it is cosmetic. Greg will get along well enough on crutches. At least he won't be able to take a swing at anyone, not without falling over anyway." Moore laughed.

"You can't cut off his leg and just leave it!" Wilson was shocked. "He'll never be happy like that. You'll have a massive discipline problem on your hands Dr Cuddy. You can't be seriously thinking about doing this."

Cuddy sat back in her chair and regarded him.

"It could actually make him easier to control. As it stands I have to have a hand picked security detail just to control him without hurting him. With crutches he becomes a lot less dangerous than with a cane. If I want to see him security can just pop him into a wheelchair, cuff him to the arms and push him to my office. If I want him to stay put somewhere I just need to take his crutches away. Short of hopping or crawling he can't go anywhere. It may take a while but Greg will adjust to it, he's fairly adaptable – after all he has adjusted to being a slave quite well."

Wilson started to rub the back of his neck, a nervous habit he had picked up since starting work at PPTH.

"And he won't be in pain, most people would think that was a good thing Dr Wilson, wouldn't you agree?"

Greg not in pain, Greg without that scar on his thigh. Wilson didn't quite know what he thought about that. He stared at the table while the conversation went on around him.

"We must ensure that the record shows that this has been done for medical reasons. Have him admitted to the slave ward and we will do a full work-up on his leg, get all the scans, pain levels and so forth. Put them in his record in case there are any claims of mistreatment. I'll speak to a head of surgery and get him put on the list for tomorrow."

"Wait, why don't we give it some time..." Wilson protested.

"No, we can't afford for Greg to hear about this like he did with the last change in his pain regimen Doctor Wilson. The quicker it is done the better, for all concerned. Get him moved to the slave ward Doctor Moore, tell him I've postponed the balance of his punishment so he can get the leg checked out before we decide on what pain medication to give him. Hopefully that will keep him quiet before the operation."

Cuddy looked down the table at Wilson.

"It would be better if you didn't go to see the slave before the operation Doctor Wilson. We wouldn't want Greg to hear of this...accidentally."

One of the most junior surgeons was assigned to the surgery of course, it wasn't difficult and Greg was a slave, albeit a very valuable slave. Doctor Rignold flipped through the consent forms, they were the slave version of course, with space for the owner to give his consent to the specified surgery. Dr Cuddy's name was scrawled in there, and her signature. Greg's name and signature were nowhere to be seen. Apparently his patient hadn't even told what this operation was to be. He'd just been knocked out and wheeled in here.

Rignold surveyed the slave on his table. He remembered him from when he was doing his internship in this very hospital. That time the slave was having his leg mutilated without his consent. This time Rignold would be amputating the limb. He stared down at his patient and sighed. At least he would be taking the man's pain away.

He looked at the team around the table, they all looked fairly grim but no-one would stop him. The slave's owner was quite within her rights to have this done.

He prepped the area and then raised the bone saw. Gripping the upper part of the thigh he took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to his patient as he made the first incision.

Greg woke up slowly, fuzzily. The first thing he felt was nausea, the second was pure fear. He could tell he'd been operated on by the surroundings and the lingering affects of the anaesthetic. He tried to roll onto his side but found that his hands were bound to the side of the bed, probably his ankles were too but he couldn't tell. There was a sheet and blanket covering him.

"Stay still." A voice commanded him, holding a container under his mouth. Greg felt the head of the bed being raised and the additional movement had him retching into the basin. When he was finished some impersonal hands wiped his mouth and face with a cold cloth.

"You're in the recovery room. We'll monitor you for an hour and all going well you will be sent back down to the slave ward."

Greg finally managed to focus his eyes, staring at the nurse by his side.

"What did they do to me?"

"Your right leg was amputated. It went well apparently. You should be functional again in a few days."

Greg's eyes went wide and his heart raced. He looked down at himself, he could just see that the blanket was tented over his right leg. He tried to reach down with his hand but the bindings stopped him. Panicked, he tugged at them, rattling the side of the bed.

"Enough of that." The nurse reprimanded. "You'll hurt yourself."

"Pull the blanket back."

The nurse wasn't used to being spoken to like that by a slave. She glared down at him.

"I will call security to come and deal with you if you continue being difficult. Lay back and rest."

"I just need to see...please...I need to know what they've done."

The nurse sighed. She pulled back the blanket and sheet, exposing his right leg, which now ended not far below the hip. The stump was wrapped in bandages.

"There, now you've seen it. Happy?"

Greg stared at it and then at the nurse. He started to pull at the restraints and began shouting. As security rushed into the room he felt a prick on his arm and darkness rushing in.

Wilson entered the slave ward, making his way to where Greg lay on the last bed in the row. He was on his back, arms and leg shackled to the bed.

Greg was due for release today. The stump was healing nicely, and as there was no need for rehabilitation Greg could go back to work. Wilson had the elbow crutches in his hand. He could get Greg up and using the crutches, it wasn't something he wanted any other doctor doing.

As he approached Greg turned his head to stare at him. His face was drawn, haggard, his eyes were sunken in his head, there was no light in them.

"Come to see the freak?"

"You're not a freak Greg. I came to get you out of that bed and out of here." Wilson looked around. The slave ward was not a pleasant place to be.

"Did you know about this?"

"I tried to stop them. I got outvoted. The decision was made very quickly." Wilson glanced down at what was left of Greg's leg, his gaze lingering. "How's the pain?"

"Oh, pain's mostly gone. This will probably catch on as a treatment option. Sorry, no scar for you to admire any more, and no pain. Guess you'll be moving on to some other slave now. Maybe you can have my leg as a trophy."

Wilson flushed.

"It's not like that Greg. Of course I still want you."

"Lucky me."

Wilson started fiddling with the straps, releasing Greg from the bed.

Greg turned his head away.

Wilson sighed and watched as two security guards approached the bed. Greg was going to be up and walking around on crutches whether he liked it or not.

Chase, Cameron and Foreman were seated at the conference table when they heard the crutches. They looked out into the hallway and watched as Greg made his way to their room. The glass door was closed and Chase jumped up to open it. Greg was balanced between two elbow crutches. Both hands occupied. His right leg had been amputated and the hem of his jeans was pinned up below the stump. He was pale and drawn, his clothes hanging loosely on him.

The slave crutched himself into the conference room, ignoring Chase and started to make his way into his cubicle beyond.

Foreman stood up.

"Doctor House."

Greg stopped and turned around to stare at Foreman.

"What they did. It was wrong."

Foreman expected Greg to toss off a snarky comment, saying that he was just a piece of hospital equipment they'd decided to modify. He expected Greg to make light of this terrible thing that had been done to him.

As he watched, Greg, the slave, disappeared and Dr House emerged. The man pulled himself up to his full height and stared back at Foreman.

"Yes, it was. The question is, what are you going to do about it?"

Doctor House didn't wait for an answer, he turned away and made his slow way to his office.

At the conference table Foreman sat down again and the three Fellows stared at each other.

WARNING : Story contains an amputation of Greg's leg without his consent and against his wishes. Greg is not given a prosthetic after the operation.