FicWad

Wilson walked through the doors of PPTH he was pissed off. He was pissed off most days since Tritter had turned up, so nothing new there, but tonight he was even more annoyed. He'd gotten a page from Cuddy to get back to PPTH because there were people there to see him and they had stated it was urgent. Being the people pleaser he wanted to be remembered as he had reluctantly gotten in his car and driven across town only to find out Cuddy had left the gentlemen in her office waiting for him. He didn't feel like being caring and kind to a patients family at the moment - well what did they expect when they want a meeting at half past eight on a Friday night for Gods sake?
He strolled into Cuddy's office, looking slightly confused at the sight that awaited him. Four burly looking men in expensive looking suits, all standing and looking very intimidating.
"Er, can I help you?"
"You Dr Wilson?"
"Why?"
"We need your help."
"Right, okay, err, what with?" Wilson asked uneasily,
"It's a long story, we don't have time to tell it and you don't have time to listen. We need you to come with us... now."
With that they tried to usher Wilson out of the door, he managed to get in some protests before realising that he was better off not putting up a fuss until he knew exactly who these guys were.
He stuck his hands in his pockets and fumbled to find his phone, he could at least get a message off to someone to alert them to his whereabouts. Who was the last person he'd contacted?
Must have been House, great - he'd hardly be worried about where he was, he'd made it quite clear what he thought of their friendship.
He punched in 911 Wilson and hoped that it would get the desired results from House. The desired result being that House would be too lazy to do anything except page Cuddy and let her deal with 'Wilson's problem' and then Cuddy would get her butt back to the hospital to find Wilson and the burly gentlemen missing.
No one could accuse Wilson of not being optimistic in a bad situation!
Unfortunately, he hadn't banked on House paging him back to say 'on way need to talk - House.'
The beeper sounded in his pocket as they walked through the garage and all four men turned sharply to glare at him. One grabbed it out of his hand as he read the message.
"Shit, he sent for help - that House guy-"
"Right, we know him, been following him for the past week, crippled fella."
"Just get him in the van without any fuss; we'll intercept the other one on the way."
"That was just stupid, you do this and no one gets home, don't start complicating things Dr Wilson." One of the men sternly told Wilson.
Wilson couldn't answer; he was being shoved into the back of a grey van, into the darkness.
The next few minutes went painfully slow as his mind raced, sitting in the dark feeling the van moving away from PPTH. What do they want? Where are they taking me? What are they going to do about House - fuck, whatever they do he'll be pissed at being dragged into this mess.
Crash! Wilson felt the impact of something as he braced himself against the side of the van when it squealed to a stop.
We've crashed, no we've hit someone, or something.
He felt sick, this was getting out of hand and he was unable to do anything about it because he didn't have a clue about what 'this' was...