"Dreams that do come true can be as unsettling as those that don't,"
~Brett Butler, 'Knee Deep in Paradise'

Carpe Noctem

The roaring sound of the race cars as they circled the edge of the track closest to the audience was enough to catch anybody off guard. More so if they were not expecting to have their ears assaulted with the noise of ten race cars put together by lower middle class Joe Schmos. Chase looked around at his surroundings. There was a crease in his forehead as he tried to place where exactly he was. Before him was a dirt loop that worked as a race track for the derby taking place and around it were some stadium lights to make the track visible on this late July night. Directly in front of Chase were spectators and likewise behind him with the addition of a skybox that housed the announcer for the race. Chase turned back to the race just in time to have a harsh breeze hit his face and toss his hair back as the racers circled once more. Cheers erupted from the crowd and half the people stood up to cheer their favourite driver. Chase did not cheer. Instead he looked down and saw that he was still wearing the pyjamas he had remembered wearing only moments earlier when he went to bed. They were dark blue plaid pants and a white t-shirt. He also noted that in his hand was a small piece of paper. He carefully unfolded the ticket after releasing his tight grip on it and examined it carefully. It was a computer printout gambling ticket that said he had placed a maximum bet of twenty-dollars on car number four. Chase looked back up at the track and saw that car four was in the lead. He simply shrugged the experience off as a dream and stood up to cheer. He knew he was not going to win any real money but there was no point in not enjoying himself now before he had to wake up.

Car four maintained its lead all the way to the finish line and when the driver crossed the checkered flag Chase leapt out of his seat and cheered loudly with a few others while most everybody else hung their heads in defeat and began to leave the stadium. Chase waited back for the crowd to thin out some before going to collect his winnings. The woman in the ticket booth, with a cigarette in her mouth and an obscene amount of fluorescent make up, on looked at Chase like he was the one with a poor sense in fashion. Especially to come to the track still in his pyjamas and without any shoes. Chase politely gave her his ticket and watched as she counted out his three-hundred dollars worth of winnings. When she finished he grabbed the money, nodded in gratitude, and walked away. He stopped ten feet away and fanned the money through his hands. Then, while holding on with his left, he took his right hand and petted the surface. Then he stacked them back together into one pile and used his thumb to flick through the bills. He did this several times until he finally held the cold hard cash to his face while he flicked through once more. The scent of sweaty cash laced with cigarette smoke breezed across his face. "This is too real," Chase mumbled to himself. Never before had he ever had a dream as vivid as this. Never before could he smell such distinct scents, feel such diverse sensations, or see such vivid sights in a dream.

At that point he looked up and saw House staring at him from several tens of yards away. "Okay, now I know this isn't a dream," Chase chided to himself as he quickly lowered his head, turned around and walked off. Before he could get six feet away from where he was standing he ran into a figure. Chase looked up and was about to excuse himself when he saw that, again, it was House. Chase took several staggered steps back. Not only was he shocked that House, who had been at least 50 yards away from him only seconds ago, was standing directly in front of him but he was also a mess. His hair was dripping wet, as well as the rest of himself and his clothes, he had skin too pale to be healthy, dark circles under his eyes, and all sorts of debris from a lake or river littering his figure. Chase's eye lids went wide open and his jaw agape. Before he could utter even one shocked word a deafening buzzing noise filled the air and everything went black.

Chase lulled awake in his bed, mind half hazy as anybody's would be when they first wake up. He laid there for a minute, on his side, as his alarm clock continued to buzz like a thousand robotic bees. Eventually he slammed his right fist onto the snooze button and rolled over in his bed. He stretched his arms towards the wall behind him, gently grazing its stucco surface, before he pulled his left arm down and rubbed his stomach with his palm. After another stiff yawn he rubbed the heels of his palms on his closed eyes. As he did he noticed something papery was scratching his right eyelid. He cracked his eyes open and pulled his hands back as he carefully uncurled his right hand's fingers. In his palm, being held there by his pinky, was a computer printout gambling ticket that stated a bet on car number four and stipulated the rules of the track.

Chase bolted straight up in his bed and unfolded the paper completely. "No. No no no no," he said quietly at a fast pace. Just then his alarm clock started blaring again and Chase quickly turned his head to the clock and saw sitting on the night stand right next to it was three hundred dollars worth of grungy twenty-dollar bills. Before his feet hit the ground Chase slammed his alarm clock off once more and was undressing for a quick, cold, shower.

-------

He was not exactly graceful when he came barging into diagnostics first thing. His shirt was not tucked in the back, his hair was hardly brushed back, and the shoulder strap to his bag was only half on. Chase quickly took his bag off and ran a hand through his hair as he squinted against the morning sun that was coming through the windows. "Good morning, Chase" Cameron eventually said at a slight loss for words.

Chase kept a hand on his head and looked at Cameron, happy for a distraction from the small headache he had just behind his eyes. "Good morning. Is House in yet?"

"Why do you care, did you do something you shouldn't have?" Foreman quipped as he read his paper with little interest in Chase's appearance.

"I didn't kill him," Chase snapped at Foreman accusingly as his mind raced to the thought that House really was dead and in a watery grave somewhere. Foreman just huffed, rolled his eyes, and went back to his paper.

"Didn't kill who?" House asked as he walked into diagnostics.

"House," Chase said as he quickly approached his boss and put his hands on the mans shoulders.

"Wait, you can't tell me because then you'd have to kill me, right?"

Chase cringed. House looked at him like he had a case of African Sleeping Sickness disguised as Lupus. Chase jerked his hands back after a minute and stepped away. "Uh…do we have a case?"

"No."

Chase nodded and quickly headed for the door. "I'm going to the clinic," he said in a rush as he exited the room hoping to leave his embarrassment behind. When he was in the hall he quietly mumbled to himself, "Way to go, Robert, make yourself out to be a loon."

That night Chase got into bed around ten but could not fall asleep until midnight. When he did he did not dream about anything, he merely slept. His sleep was uninterrupted for the next two weeks and everything seemed to be back to normal. Everything except the headache he had after his dream at the race track. However, since a few Advil seemed to take it away, Chase thought it was caused by nothing more than simple stress and did more relaxing activities at home to try and help remedy the situation.

Wednesday was a particularly taxing day where a flu breakout turned into a bird flu scare and caused the clinic to be over run by patients. Anybody and everybody with a sniffle came in afraid they contracted the disease. For every case Chase gave the patient some tissues and simply prescribed some chicken soup and two days rest to get over their cold. That night Chase welcomed the chance to go to sleep and as soon as he was in his pyjamas he went to bed. Before he could pull the blankets up to his chin he was asleep.

The wet dirt path caused Chase's toes to curl around the tiny pebbles of the hiking path before him. He was surrounded by giant fir trees on the left side of the path and a steep 50-foot drop to his right with more fir trees. Chase looked up at the gorgeous night sky and gazed at the constellation Orion. There were mountains around him and he soon clued in that he must have been on a night time nature walk on one of the hiking trails in the National Park. He'd never been on a night hike before, let alone taken the time to hike through the New Jersey Mountains so he decided to enjoy himself. Granted at first he was filled with slight trepidation but he soon dismissed his worries and thought aloud to himself, "What's the worst that can happen? I come back with some nice wild flowers for my apartment," and he continued to walk along.

For a dream, time was passing slowly, but Chase didn't mind. The lukewarm breeze that came by every now and again, the smell of the fauna that was uninhibited and undisturbed by city smells, and the clear night, bright enough for vision from the stars and full moon, was enough to put a tranquil smile on his face. As time passed on Chase kept walking and as he kept walking the more he relaxed.

Then he saw a foreign light. In the darkness of night there was an orange-yellow flicker that was off the path by at least six hundred yards. As a matter of fact, if Chase had not stopped to sit down and just enjoy the night for a little bit his eyes would not have started to wander and he would have never caught a glimpse of this anomaly. Chase got up, dusted the semi-damp mud off his pyjama bottoms, and wandered to the edge of the trail. He stood there for a minute in debate as to whether or not to venture off the path. Eventually he realized that he was still in the dream and, worst case scenario, if he got lost he would eventually wake up and find himself back in his apartment. What happened two weeks ago was a fluke. As far as Chase was concerned he earned the money at the race track but was so tired when he got home and fell asleep so fast that his brain could not differentiate between dream and not— even though he was never a person to place any sort of bet.

But that was two weeks ago and this was tonight. Tonight Chase was on a path in the National Forrest and had the option to ignore glitch in nature or to investigate but either way he would be safe in the end. He carefully lowered himself to a crouch and slid off the path onto the steep hillside. After that he half ran as gravity pulled him down the hill four meters. Various twigs and pine needles poked Chase in his bare feet but he chose to ignore them. "It's all a dream," he reminded himself, "the mind can do funny things and recreating sensations is one of them." Eventually the ground leveled out and Chase began to walk forward. He ducked some low branches and took giant steps over tall logs. The walk seemed to never end and the light was barely growing in size but Chase was determined to figure out what was causing it. It was either that or wake up and since he had yet to hear his alarm the former of the options was the option for him. After another fifteen minutes of walking Chase finally could spot that the light was a fire and by the fire was a man in a light jacket hunched over, shaking, and rubbing his stomach. "Sir?" Chase yelled.

The man looked up revealing brown eyes, a dirt covered face, and greasy hair. "Oh thank God." He stood up but promptly collapsed onto his side. Chase rushed to him and knelt next to the man immediately taking his pulse and starting an evaluation.

"What happened to you?"

"I left for a hiking trip two days ago and got lost," the man said as he rolled onto his back and took several deep breaths. "I stepped onto unsettled ground, fell into a river, and got dragged away. I lost all my supplies and have no idea where…" he began to cough.

"It's okay," Chase said as he patted the man on the shoulder, "Just relax. I'm a doctor and I'm here to help you."

The man took a deep breath and studied Chase carefully, "I've never known a doctor to make house calls to the middle of a forest…in his pyjamas…without any shoes."

Chase looked himself over and looked back at the man, "Well I'm not exactly a typical doctor."

"And that's a typical response of a hallucination."

"I'm not-" Chase stopped. He realized that he was about to get in an argument over who was real and who was not with a man from his dreams. He shook it off and looked back at the man. "Never mind that, we need to get you out of here. There's a path…" Chase looked around his surroundings and was overcome by a fear that came over him quicker than lightening over the Earth. He had an idea of what direction he came from but all the trees looked the same and it was night out so there was no definite way to tell where exactly he was. Then it hit him like a brick to the face. Chase reached into his pyjama bottoms and pulled out his cell phone. The man on the ground looked at him with a creased brow. "I keep it on me when I sleep," Chase explained as he stood up, "in case there's an emergency where I work." He then opened up the phone and held it towards the sky looking for a signal. Currently there were no bars. He turned east, or what he thought was east, and still nothing. North, south, west. West. When he faced west he got one bar and one bar was enough for him. Chase dialed nine-one-one and carefully moved the phone to his ear. After one ring an operator picked up, "Hello, operator? Yes, I'm here with," Chase looked at the man.

The man coughed and then said, "Patrick Williams."

"Patrick Williams. He's a hiker that's been missing for two days and he needs help. Where are we? I don't really know. My phone has a GPS in it, can you lock onto that? You can? Okay, okay, yes, I will. Thank you." Chase took the phone away from his ear and told Patrick what was happening, "Okay, she's going to lock on to the coordinates and that should work so long as we keep the phone on." Patrick nodded. After a minute the operator came back. "Did you get it? Excellent. Thank you ma'am. Thank you." Chase closed the phone and smiled. "They found our coordinates and are coming right now. Help should be here within the hour."

"Will you stay until it comes?"

Chase gave the man a meek smile, "I'll stay as long as I can."

After a few minutes a new kind of light entered Chase's field of vision and he looked up. The sun was rising. He looked to Patrick and smiled. "I've got to go now but you'll be safe soon enough."

Patrick nodded, "Thank you so much. But before you go, what's your name?"

Chase smiled again and patted the man on the shoulder, "That doesn't matter, you're just a figment of my subconscious," he said, keeping that last part quiet enough so only he could hear. Chase stood up, nodded at Patrick, and then began to walk off.

Not ten feet away from the stranded hiker Chase ran into something softer than a tree but as stiff and still as one. He looked up to see he was staring at House. "No…" Chase said, "not again…"

House stood before Chase the same way he did that night at the race track. His skin was translucent, his frame gaunt, and he was wet and covered in water debris. But this time Chase noticed he was wearing his motorcycle jacket, a blue Aerosmith shirt, and a pair of jeans with his sneakers. He was also carrying his motorcycle helmet. Chase started to walk backwards, twigs snapping beneath his feet, as he clenched his fists and looked at the rising sun one last time. He turned back to House and before the dream could end he took a deep breath and yelled, "What do you want from me?"

Chase bolted up in bed as his alarm began its normal, hideous, six-thirty morning cry. He panted heavily for a minute, and looked around the room feverishly for any indication that he was in a forest last night (flowers, twigs, mud spots on the rug, anything he may have brought home with him). When he was satisfied that there was nothing and that what had happened on his night walk was indeed a dream, he slammed his fist down on the alarm clock to turn it off and stepped out of bed. When his feet touched the cool hard wood floors he noticed a more apparent headache that had spread from the back of his head to behind his eyes. There was slight pressure behind his eyes and along the temples but Chase simply popped a couple of Advil and ignored it as the medicine took the edge off the pain. The shower took more of the pain away and by the time he was dressed, save his tie being fastened around his neck, the ache was down to a very quiet, but very apparent, roar. He walked into the living room and turned on his television to a news network before heading into the kitchen.

"Partly cloudy skies to the north moving south for a slight possibility of afternoon showers…" the weather man on the television said. Chase was standing in his kitchen as he sipped his coffee and gathered his case notes. He was never really big on the news for the same reason most people were not—it was too depressing. However, despite the surprising lack of physical evidence, he felt the need to watch incase the story of a saved hiker made it on. So far it had not.

"Thanks, Walter. Breaking news has just come in about lost hiker Patrick Williams. He was found early this morning with minor contusions, moderate dehydration, and a case of exhaustion." Chase spat his coffee across the kitchen table and his headache came back full force. Chase cringed and set his mug down as he cursed at his coffee soaked patient notes. He could not be bothered to shake the coffee off of them, however. Instead he rushed to the living room, head pounding a little harder with each foot step, and looked at the TV. On the screen was a much better looking picture of Patrick that must have been taken before his ordeal. "When questioned by park rangers he stated that a man with an Australian accent and blonde hair came to him in the night. The man, who is currently unidentified, was said to be wearing pyjamas and had a cell phone in his pocket. Investigators are unsure of the truth to the story stating that Williams was suffering from extreme exhaustion and may have been hallucinating. However, when questioned about the nine-one-one call, they claim that all traces of it seemed to have disappeared. The audio from the conversation came across with too much static to provide viable clues and, although they were able to find the location of Williams through the GPS, any information from it has been lost in a mysterious computer glitch."

Chase took two swift and large steps towards the television and quickly turned it off. He ran both hands through his hair and let out a long deep breath. Afterwards he let his hands rest and the back of his head.

-------

That was the last straw. The incident that morning when Chase heard about the hiker on the news was enough to make him take serious action. Was he really sleep-walking? Did he actually win that wad of money or save that man's life? If so, how was it he was getting back to bed without remembering anything after the dreams events? These were all questions to which he was not looking for an answer. Ever since the possible sleep walking had begun Chase had been getting headaches that were getting progressively worse. All he did care about was ending those and he had a feeling that if he could put his mind at ease they would quickly go away. To put his mind at ease all he had to do was show himself that he was not leaving at night and he could only think of one good way to do that. Chase laid down in bed but this time he had a set of handcuffs with him, "God, please don't let anybody walk in on me," he mused as he tossed the metal restraints in his hands while he thought of how awkward it would be to try an explain the situation to anybody who walked in. How many people honestly played BDMS by themselves; because that would be the first thing that came to anybody's mind if they were to walk in. Chase took one last deep breath before he placed one of the cuffs on his right wrist. After that he took the other and attached it to the headboard. The keys were attached to a string whose end was only close enough for Chase to grab with his foot and only if he strained to do so. A sleepwalker would not be conscious enough to go through such effort to get free. Taking one last deep breath and snaking his way down in his bed, Chase closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

The next morning Chase was still cuffed to the bed. The next morning there were no signs of any late night escapades- at all. The next morning showed that everything was alright from the night before. However, the next morning Chase was not feeling better. Still suffering from a persistent and barely tolerable headache Chase got out of bed and massaged his achy shoulder. That was just one night. To make sure it did not happen again he planned on using the cuffs a little longer—though he would have to find a more comfortable way to do so.

-------

"Help, please, sir, help," a man, who wore a tan jacket and stood by a car with its hazard lights blinking, yelled. Chase looked at him perplexed before he quickly whipped his head around. There were cars driving by him at break neck speeds but it wasn't like the race track. This was the highway.

"Oh God, not again…" Chase mumbled with a massive pout on his face to accompany his squeezed together brow. Again he was in his pyjamas but this time, on his right wrist, was his handcuffs. Oddly enough it was only the end attached to his wrist. Half way down the chain the cuffs ended in a blur. Chase lifted his arm so the chain was at eye height and curled his lip upwards. "How the hell?"

"Sir!" the man came running at Chase and skidded to a halt right next to him. His worried face melted away and was replaced with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

Chase dropped his arm to his side and sighed heavily. He looked at the man next to him. "What?!"

The man shook out of his trance and looked Chase over. After a calculated minute he shook his head and held his hand up, "Never mind. Um, do you…"

"Charlie!"

The man looked behind himself and over at his car. Chase craned his neck to look past the man that was his height. The small red sedan had its back passenger door open and that was where the scream had come from. Charlie ran back to the car with Chase quickly in toe. "Two weeks," Chase mumbled as he followed, "headache just starting to go away. Thought maybe I could take these off after tonight," he said in reference to the cuffs, "guess I was wrong." He came to a halt next to Charlie and both men looked into the car. There, lying on the back seat, was a very pregnant woman, face twisted in pain.

"It's okay, baby. I'm here now," Charlie said as he leaned in and took his wife's hand. "I could try to get there? We're only two exits away, Megan."

Megan shook her head. "No, he's coming. Now." Then she groaned and grabbed the back of the driver's seat in an attempt to subside the unbearable pain.

Chase pulled Charlie back by his shoulder. When the man was standing up he looked into his worried eyes. "Sir, is this your first child."

Charlie nodded as he wiped some sweat away from his brow, "Yes, we thought we had time to get to the hospital, we heard the first ones take a while. I guess we were wrong. She did say women in her family give birth quickly. Can you please get somebody who can help us? Maybe flag somebody down?" he asked as he looked over Chase again. Chase instantly knew what the man was thinking. How could a guy wearing pyjamas and cut off hand cuffs help his wife?

Chase let go of Charlie and leaned into the car. "Megan? Megan, listen to me." Megan panted and raised her head enough to look at Chase, "Megan, I'm a doctor and I'm going to help you. Will you let me do that?" Chase watched as the woman looked past him to her husband with a pained eyebrow raised. After a moment another contraction hit and she groaned even louder before she nodded her head furiously. Chase quickly got to work. He separated her legs and took note of the situation. Once everything was assessed he turned to Charlie and simply said, "Get me your jacket and something to tie the baby's cord off."

After a very stressful and eventful fifteen minutes with Charlie in the driver's seat holding his wife hand and Chase kneeling in what little room was left in the back, a beautiful baby boy was born. Chase flicked the boy's feet to stimulate him to cough. Another tense moment later the baby let out his first cry and Megan smiled through her tears. Chase wrapped him up in Charlie's tan jacket and handed him to her. He then got out of the car, shut the door, and looked through the front passenger window. "How close is the hospital you were going to, Mr.…?"

Charlie snapped his seatbelt into place and looked up at Chase. "Mr. Oswald. It's just two exits away. We were headed to Princeton Plainsboro."

Chase smirked slightly. "Perfect," he mumbled quietly. "Well hurry. They both need to be looked over as soon as possible." Charlie nodded and Chase stepped back before the car sped off. Chase took a deep breath, unsure of what to think. That was when he heard the footsteps. He looked to his left and saw a man that wore jeans, sneakers, an Aerosmith shirt under a leather jacket, and a motorcycle helmet approach him. Chase threw his hands into the air and marched towards House, ignoring the pain in his feet as they hit the hard asphalt of the shoulder. "What do you want from me?" he yelled. House stopped abruptly but Chase kept closing the distance. The closer he got the more he saw the usual. Again House was dripping wet and had various twigs and algae attached to him. "What? You're not going to answer me?!" At that moment House opened his mouth and water poured out. Chase jumped back. His eyes drifted from the wet pavement back to House's face. His skin hung loosely and drooped badly enough that Chase could see his inner lower eyelids. A bright red compared to the eerie white of House's decayed skin. Chase scrunched his eyebrows and walked towards House with his head cocked to the side. "House?"

"Tomorrow," he whispered slowly with a rough, sandpaper voice. At that moment light started to blind everything out and Chase could only hear the cry of his horrendous alarm clock.

Chase blinked his eyes open and looked over at his clock. 5:30. He groaned and tugged on his right arm. It was still hand cuffed to his headboard. He blinked his eyes and rubbed the lids with the palm of his left hand. That was when a wave of pain infiltrated his skull. He grabbed his hair and moaned as he twisted in his bed. The pain grew and grew. It started behind his eyes and felt like somebody was strangling his optic nerves. Then it moved upwards and towards the back, painful like a Charlie Horse, before finally settling just behind his frontal lobe with everywhere else going painfully numb. Chase panted for a minute before he reopened his eyes and looked around. After several deep breaths he flipped the covers off his body and began to stretch for the yarn with the key.

-------

"So, why are we going to a vending machine on this floor?" Cameron asked as she walked at a quick pace to keep up with Chase's long strides. Chase was dressed in gray slacks, glossy black shoes, and a maroon shirt. Cameron was wearing black slacks, a pair of nice business casual shoes, and a yellow top. Both had their lab coats on.

Chase, who had been massaging the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed, looked up at Cameron, "Hmm?" he asked half-heartily. The head ache had yet to stop and Chase was beginning to think that it was caused by more than just stress from the dreams.

"The machines. Why are we going to the ones on the maternity floor? And why are we taking the long way?"

Chase shrugged his shoulders and ignored the pain that shot up into his head when he did so. Then he started peaking at the various charts on the wall as he walked by. "Uh, this is the only floor with the food I like."

"All the machines have the same stuff…"

"Look, I just wanted to come this way, okay?" Chase spat. After a minute he cringed and rubbed his temple before he continued on his way.

Cameron walked in front of Chase and stopped him by grabbing his arms. "Chase, are you okay? You seem tense?" she then pulled out her pen light and tried to look into his eyes.

Chase waved her off, "It's nothing. I've just got this small…"

"Of all things!" Chase looked up and over Cameron as she turned around. Mr. Oswald and his wife, who sat in a wheel chair holding their baby boy as a nurse pushed her, came towards the two doctors. "That's the doctor. He's the one who delivered our boy!"

Mrs. Oswald looked down at her baby and smiled. She let him grab her finger and bounced his hand around. "Thank you so much, Dr…?"

Cameron shook her head and closed her mouth. When Chase didn't answer she did. "Chase. This is Dr. Chase and I'm Dr. Cameron." She held out her hand and shook Mr. Oswald's. After a minute she looked down at the baby in Megan's arms and put a finger under his chin. She smiled, "He's gorgeous. Do you have a name for him?"

Mrs. Oswald shook her head and met Cameron's eyes. "No, Charlie and I wanted to wait until he was here and see what he looked like."

Cameron straightened up and looked over her shoulder. "You delivered this baby, Chase? When?"

"Last night. We pulled over on the free way and there he was," Mr. Oswald interrupted as he patted Chase hard on the shoulder. Chase's head throbbed and he thought he would lose his breakfast right there. "Funny guy. We're grateful and all but still a little confused as to why he was standing there in his py- "

"Mr. Oswald. Perhaps you should take your wife to her room," Chase said bluntly and loudly. "You've both had a long night and I'm sure she would like to rest."

Mr. Oswald smiled and walked behind his wife's wheel chair, taking over for the nurse. "Of course, Dr. Chase. Thank you so much again." He pushed his wife between the two doctors, beaming with happiness, and Cameron smiled back. Once they turned the corner Cameron stepped up to Chase and furrowed her brows.

"You delivered their child last night? On the freeway?!" she half whispered half yelled.

Chase shook his head lightly, "Cameron…" he paused. Suddenly he reached out and grabbed Cameron's elbow as his knees buckled and he fell to the floor. He felt Cameron grab him around the shoulders and try to lower him gracefully. His vision began to blur as he looked up and watched Cameron yell over her shoulder. "I need a non-neonatal crash cart and some help, now!" she said with a voice that sounded a million miles away. Then everything went black.

-------

"Chase, Chase can you hear me?"

Chase let his head loll to the side and rested his left cheek against something soft. "Chase? Open your eyes if you can hear me." Someone straightened his head and began to pat his cheeks. Chase took a deep breath and noticed his headache was at a dull roar though the rest of his head felt foggy. He squeezed his eyes shut and then blinked them open. Everything was blurry at first but once he cleared his eyes with a few more blinks Wilson came into focus. He smiled though his eyes looked tired and slightly downcast. "Hey, Chase. How're you feeling?"

"Fine…I think," he said in a voice just above a whisper. He started to sit up so Wilson lifted the back of the gurney he was on. He looked himself over and saw he was wearing the same clothes he put on this morning only he didn't have his lab coat on. "What happened? Last thing I remembered was being on the maternity floor and then…oh."

Wilson frowned for a minute and then sighed. "You've been unconsciousness all day. Cameron said you looked like you had a massive headache so we ran a CAT scan."

Chase blinked his eyes again but this time it wasn't to help him wake up. "What did you find?"

"Brains," said House. Chase looked to his right and saw him standing there wearing an Aerosmith shirt. He saw that in House's hands were his leather jacket and his motorcycle helmet. "We were all shocked, to say the least."

Chase went bug eyed after he looked House over. It caused the older doctor to pull back slightly and turn his head away while keeping his eyes on his employee. "Chase?" Chase looked over to Wilson. The oncologist took a deep breath and sat down on the side of Chase's gurney. "Chase, listen, we found something…not good."

"What is it?"

"A cancerous tumor the size of a soft ball in the mid regions on you brain, spreading under the cerebrum and pressing on the optic nerves." Chase gawked at Wilson for a minute as everything slowly clicked in his head.

"That would explain your late night escapades though," both Wilson and Chase looked over at House. "Cameron told me about that annoyingly happy dad over in maternity. I went and talked to him and he said you delivered their son…in your pyjamas and wearing half a set of hand cuffs. Weird, I will admit. I never thought somebody could do BDSM by themsel-"

"No," Chase interrupted with a short tone. "No, I was dreaming. And the cuffs were to keep me to my bed because I thought I was sleepwalking."

"It helps if you use more than half a handcuff."

"It was!" Chase snapped at House. "One end was attached to me and the other was attached to my head board. I kept the key on the end of a long string that I could only reach if I was conscious enough to put the effort into it."

Wilson patted Chase's shoulder and the younger doctor looked at him. "You may have still been able to get out. After all, you were alert enough to deliver a baby."

"The cuffs weren't broken."

"It's possible Mr. Oswald didn't see the whole set," Wilson reasoned. "Look Chase, we need to keep you here tonight. We're hoping we can get you in for surgery once we're sure your stable and-"

"But House was there."

"Oh don't get me involved in your kinky-"

"No, in my dreams. He was there wearing what he's wearing now except-"

"Yes! Because somebody who has a brain tumor can't sleep walk and hallucinate at the same time. Especially if said tumor is where it's at in your head." House sighed and looked at Wilson. "I'm out of here. It's already past five."

"Wait, House…"

House ignored Chase and started to walk away from his gurney in the ER. "Let me know if you find anything interesting. Like buried treasure or a crayon or something."

"House, I need to warn you…"

"Okay," Wilson said, "Don't forget, Main Street is getting repaved. You may want to take South Welby home."

South Welby ran right next to the local river. Chase's eyes grew wide and he froze in bed. Once he gathered his senses he opened his mouth to warn House but House was already gone. Chase turned to Wilson, who was writing on his chart, "Wilson, I need to sleep. Can I have some valium or haldol or something?"

Wilson put Chase's chart down. "I'm not sure. This is the first time you've been lucid since you fell, it may not be wise to make you sleep. Just try to relax," he suggested as he placed a hand on Chase's shoulder.

Chase brushed him off and then looked him in the eyes, head tilted down. "If you don't help me get to sleep I'll create enough of a ruckus that you'll have to do it anyhow."

Wilson sighed. After a minute he went over to a tray and loaded up a syringe. "I'm just giving you enough to make you sleepy not enough to knock you out. If you need anything there'll be a nurse in here keeping an eye on you," he explained as he took the syringe over to Chase's IV portal and injected the medicine.

After a minute Chase began to feel the effects and let his head rest on the back of the gurney. "Thank you," he whispered to Wilson before things went blurry and then black again.

-------

The street sounded busy, but nowhere near as busy as the race track or the highway. Chase looked around and took in his surroundings. He was still wearing his day clothes and stood on northbound South Welby facing west at Carl Avenue. It made a T intersection at this point and the next street up was also a T intersection but it had a light. Just behind him by a few feet was the river. "This has to be it," Chase said. He looked down at his left arm and saw the IV still attached to him but it was cut off in a majestic blur just inches away from where it met his skin. A roar of a motorcycle and Chase looked south. It was House. Chase looked around frantically. There had to be a clue somewhere but all he saw was the quick approaching House and the river behind him. Then he looked up and noticed the light at the intersection turning red. Traffic slowed and stopped. It put House right in front of him. House sat back on his motorcycle and looked to his right before looking back at the car ahead of him. After the briefest of moments House did a double take. "Chase?!"

Chase ignored House and looked around. The southbound traffic on Welby was stopped by the light up the street but there was a truck coming down Carl Ave that was obviously speeding. Chase squinted and saw that the driver couldn't even be seen besides a hand on the steering wheel and his left shoulder just above the dash. House, who was still gawking at Chase, looked at the truck and began to yell. Chase knew what was going to happen though. He knew for the past month, since his first dream. The motorist wasn't going to see House and was going to drive past the stop sign. He was on a collision course with House's bike and the older man was going to be thrown into the river. House yelled at the man and tried to move but he was stuck in the traffic. Other cars started to blow their horns.

In a split second Chase made his choice. He shoved House off his bike just as the truck driver looked up and hit his brakes. It grazed the front of the coupe behind House's bike and hit the actual bike directly. House, meanwhile, tried to make himself as small as possible as he leaned against the coupe while the truck screeched to a halt just inches behind him. Chase looked over at House while time slowed before him. He saw that his boss was clear and was going to be fine, barely. Then the truck skidded far enough forward that it obstructed his view of his boss. He turned his head to face the driver, probably at neck breaking speeds though it felt so slow to him. He threw his arms up in a cross and braced for impact. He looked through the small hole created between his arms. The headlights split on the truck and the grill crunched slowly. The glass from the motorcycle's side mirrors shattered and flew through the air like they were in an anti gravity field. The motorcycle began to press into his shins slowly. Chase could feel his feet slipping from underneath himself and he soon fell backwards. He landed on the pavement but didn't stay there long. He felt his head knock into the sidewalk edge and his neck get crushed. Soon thereafter, though it felt like minutes later, his body was shoved up and onto the sidewalk. His arms placidly flew around him as his back hit the wooden horizontal bars of the fence behind him. The fence was destroyed as if his body was a two ton block and the wood was brittle bone. Then there was nothing beneath Chase. He opened his eyes and saw the sky, quickly chased by House's motorcycle following him into the river. Chase laughed half-heartedly as the water broke beneath him from the falling debris. It whispered, "Goodbye, Chase. This was your destiny."

His back crashed into the water. The rest of him quickly followed as he soon became weightless. Chase watched as House's bike broke the surface above him. He hit the river bed, easily ten feet under water, and the motorcycle swiftly pinned him to the muddy earth below. Chase smiled and opened his mouth for a crisp, semi-clean, breath of water. He started to cry but the river washed away his tears. Chase closed his eyes, let his head rest on the sticks beneath him, and welcomed the wet darkness.