Wilson sits in his office. He had a fight with House. Again. It wasn’t just some sort of friendly banter, either. He remembers that he has yelled at the other man but he isn’t sure what was the main reason. Was it House and his idiotic jokes? Was it House trying to mock him again? Or was it House and his omnipresent bottle of Vicodin, which angers Wilson the most? 

Anyway, the anger is slowly flowing away from him. He’s sure he won’t remember tomorrow, because it’s ritual. He needs to yell time to time and then he needs to calm down. Cycle. However, he isn’t sure about House today. He didn’t argue back and it was weird. He was just listening and he seemed hurt. No, no way, House isn’t this type either. Everything will be alright. Wilson will buy him lunch tomorrow and they will be fine. Of course, Wilson reassures himself.

For a moment he thinks about going back to his friend’s office, to just knock on the door and see which way the wind is blowing, but then he stops himself. House has shut this door himself today and with rage.

He’ll wait. This time it’s House’s turn to come back. Worst case scenario, Wilson can always act, but not today. He needs rest. It’s Friday - after one of the most exhausting weeks he’s ever had. He thinks about what to do this evening. Maybe going out with someone? No, he wants to be alone.

He decides to buy something at the grocery store. He will cook. His kitchen in the hotel room is small but it doesn’t matter. He isn’t in the mood for a meal that is delivered to you.

He grabs his coat and swears. Outside the rain overcomes the snow, but it is still only a few degrees above zero and he’s forgotten his scarf!

It has been such a bad day, Wilson is sure it can’t get any worse. He passes the main entrance and gets into his car, cursing at the weather.

He leaves his parking place and doesn’t notice that the other luxury car is following him on his way.

At the grocery store Wilson parks his car once again and gets out. His mind has calmed down in the meantime and he’s thinking about a hundred different recipes to cook.

Roy stops his car as well. This is one of those big stores with large parking lot. Perfect! Just what he needs, anonymity is guaranteed. No hurry, this man will take his time to come back, but it doesn’t matter, Roy has time as well. He settles himself comfortably in the seat and waits, his eyes fixed on the entrance of the building.

About an hour later Roy sees his target leaving the store. Now, it’s time to act. He steps out and stands by the Volvo in a second. The gun is hidden under his jacket, handcuffs in his pocket.

Wilson is carrying two bags of groceries. They seem not to be heavy - he has them in one hand. With the other one he’s probably fishing for his car keys.

Roy puts his most innocent glare on his face and stays by Wilson’s car, pretending to look worried.

“Hey you! What are you doing here?” Wilson asks, looking uncomprehendingly at the other man. He hasn’t seen him before, and he doesn’t like strangers.

“Oh, I’m sorry to disturb you but your car seems to be open. I just wanted to stay here, in case someone would catch the opportunity to steal it from you,” he smiles at Wilson.

“Really? That’s very nice of you. I must have forgotten. Thank you, I’ll take care of it.” Maybe this man wasn’t as suspicious as he looked at first. Wilson smiles back and approaches the front door on the driver’s side. He puts the bags with the groceries on the ground to open the door. He shows his back to the other man and it is exactly the moment, for which Roy has waited.

He takes the handcuffs and quickly grabs Wilson’s left wrist, dragging it behind him.

“Hey! What are you doing?” yells Wilson. The pain is spreading through his whole arm. He doesn’t know if he should be scared or better angry.

“Stay calm. I don’t want to use the gun from under my jacket!” hisses Roy and grabs Wilson’s other hand as well. It hurts, but Wilson is too scared to do anything. He manages only to kick the other man in his shin.

Roy hisses again but from the pain this time. However, he doesn’t lose the grip on Wilson’s hands, not even a little. Instead, he grabs them and pulls upright. A silent whimper escapes Wilson’s mouth when he feels that one small bone in his right wrist is definitely broken.

“I said, stay calm!” 

Wilson grimaces his face from the pain but nods. He doesn’t know what this man wants from him and he doesn’t know what will ensue, and he’s scared.

Roy looks around. No one seems to be watching them and that’s good. In a moment Wilson feels the cuffs encircling his wrists. The pain radiates from the right one to the whole arm and the metal is incredibly cold.

“Now move!” Roy whispers into his left ear and Wilson shivers at the tone. They make their way to the passenger seat and Wilson is seated and his eyes are blinded with the scarf. He wants to do something, to call for help maybe, to...he doesn’t know. His hand burns and he feels like if he has lost his voice.

“Good boy.” He hears Roy and then the door of his car is slamming shut. I’m trapped in my own car!
 

Once inside Roy leans towards him. “Make a move and I won’t be so kind anymore!” 

Wilson startles. “What do you want from me?” he asks with trembling voice. He hates it but he can’t help himself.

There’s no answer and he hears only the motor when the car is turned on.


tbc...