A/N This is supposed to be written 'Case Style' as it were. Thankfully, however, without the horrible adverts!
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I own absolutely nothing in this fanfic, apart from Phillippa Ryan, who is the warped and twisted creation of my warped and twisted brain.
A woman was walking down the street, a slip of paper in her hand and a brown leather travel bag on her shoulder. Concentrating on house numbers, and trying to ignore the excruciating pain in her head, she barely glanced at the road as she stepped off the pavement. Halfway across, she stopped and put her hand to her head, stumbling slightly as a wave of dizziness took hold.
A screech of tyres split through the air, as the terrified driver desperately tried to stop in time, to miss the young woman. He wasn't fast enough, and a sickening crunch was heard as her limp body was hurled over the roof of the car. Flying off the back, she landed hard, her legs contorted, face frozen in terror, blood pooling behind her head, which had just smacked dully into the ground. Already, the light began to fade, as she retreated to the pain free paradise of unconsciousness. Her hand clenched more tightly around the small scrap of paper, hiding it deep within her palm.
Title Scene.
"We've got a severe RTA coming in hot, head trauma, suspected broken right arm and leg…" The nurse efficiently relayed the paramedic's message to Dr. Colchester, who was on A & E that night. With a brisk nod, he helped wheel a fresh gurney to the back doors, especially wide for situations like this. Within a matter of minutes the woman was on the gurney, being wheeled to Operating Theatre 1 to try to save her life.
The next morning.
Chase sat at the back of the diagnostic's room, trying to puzzle out a 7 letter word for 'wince'. Foreman was pouring himself a mug of coffee – black, no sugar – and occasionally glancing over at Chase's puzzle. Cameron walked in, and with a "Good morning" and a pleasant nod, set about sorting through the day's post.
"Hey" drawled Chase, glancing up.
"Morning" added Foreman, pulling up a chair next to Cameron.
The door swung open, shattering the comfortable silence, to reveal a grumpy looking House. Chase looked up, smiling slightly at his boss. Cameron and Foreman just rolled their eyes at each other, neither noticing anything other than general crotchetiness, but Chase, who had not only been around House for that little bit longer, but also had a knack for spotting subtleties in peoples' behaviours, saw that House was suffering the effects of a hard nights' drinking, and made a mental note to avoid confrontation.
House shot an inquisitive look at Chase, whose attention was back on the puzzle, giving a grateful nod to Cameron, who had poured coffee for him.
"So wombat…" said House "who's Phillippa Ryan?"
Chase's head shot up, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped open, letting the pen fall from between his lips.
"How… why… how…?" he spluttered, his entire attention fixed on House.
"Three very good questions" replied House, taking in the scene before him. Chase was sat bolt upright, entirely focused on House, with Cameron looking at Chase as if she had never seen him focused before. She had, of course, but it was usually in the ICU, when he couldn't afford to let himself be distracted – and most certainly never this early in the morning! Foreman was sat back in his seat, watching the exchange, waiting to see how it would play out.
House leant forward, and placed a slip of paper on the table, pushing it with one long finger until it was directly in front of Chase. It was the same slip of paper that the woman had in her hand before the accident. It was a compliment slip, with Pippa's details on the right, in neat green type, and on the left, in a feminine hand, was written:
Robert Chase
Flat No. 1
Pembroke Apartments
Princeton-Plainsborough
"Where…" came a slightly strangled voice from Chase, who cleared his throat before continuing more strongly "where did you get this?"
House looked down at his duckling before asking "Ex whore? One of daddy's 'friends'? Estranged aunt?"
Chase ignored his words, picking up the slip of paper, folding it carefully and putting it in his top pocket, crossing his arms protectively in front of himself.
"One of mummy's friends who came over and touched you there?" House was starting to enjoy wombat-baiting. The door opened again, thankfully for Chase, who breathed an unheard sigh of relief.
"House!" Lisa Cuddy stood with her hands on her hips, glaring angrily at the offending miscreant. "One word, House… Clinic." There was a pause as House glanced down at his hands and idly picked at a hangnail.
"Now!" Cuddy said, forcefully. House looked up.
"That's two words" he said, snippily.
"House…" Cuddy replied, a warning note in her voice.
"Yes, mein führer" said House, bowing, then straightening up again to deliver his parting shot. "Menopause kicking in, I see…" before limping off rather sharpish.
Cuddy and Cameron exchanged equal looks of disgust, both rolling their eyes as if to say 'Men!' Chase relaxed slightly as House hobbled out of the door, his mutterings ever present.
"So" said Foreman, leaning forward. "who is she?" Chase looked pointedly back at his puzzle, saying quietly "no one." The sound of a pager going off made Chase jump slightly, and he stood up, trying to hide the fact that he'd been snapped out of his thoughts. Looking down at the pager, he was it was his, and sped from the room to help the coding patient in the ICU.
"BP's dropping, breathing irregular – HE'S GOT NO PULSE!"
Chase registered everything in a fraction of a second before jumping into the fray to save the patient.
Foreman and Cameron were running gels in the lab, she, enjoying the quiet, methodical checks, he, bored out of his mind, pondering an ongoing case.
"Who do you think she is, then?" asked Cameron, dragging the neurologist's thoughts back to the present.
"I've no idea," replied Foreman "and honestly, is it really our business?"
"You're not even slightly interested?"
"Nope. The guy's personal life is just that. Personal." Cameron pouted slightly.
"Oh come on, it's not every day you get a reaction like that out of Chase." Foreman tilted his head, conceding.
"True, I guess." Chase was notorious for being silent about his private life. A reaction like earlier was unheard of.
"An ex girlfriend maybe? Or possibly a cousin…" Foreman mused. Cameron swivelled on her chair to face her colleague.
"Hmmm… I fancy a walk… Possibly past a certain patient's room…" she grinned wickedly. "Coming?" With a small shake of his head, Foreman got out of his chair and opened the door, letting Cameron sweep out first.
"What?" Cuddy sat at her desk, her jaw practically touching the floor.
"You heard. I want the case." House repeated.
"That's what I thought you said… you're… asking for a case…" before she could get any further, House cut in.
"I'm bored, and it's an interesting case."
"Head trauma from an accident… yeah, I can see how it would take a diagnostician like you to figure it out…" but realising that this was not an opportunity to be passed up, said "fine. She's yours." House grinned evilly as he greedily took the file and left, already flipping to the patient's information page. Reading one of the lines, his evil smirk got wider and he paged his ducklings… this was going to be an interesting diagnostic session…