Chapter Six

Chase sat silently as Foreman drove behind the ambulance, following the EMTs to Princeton Plainsboro. He shuddered as he glanced at the still lights and listened to the silence, envious of the other drivers and passengers on the road who didn't know the ambulance was bringing in a DOA.

He shut his eyes when the sunlight shining through the window began to sting, vividly seeing the image of the ambulance pulling in front of his childhood home in Australia replaying in his mind.

"I-I found her like this," he had stammered to the paramedics as they skillfully lifted his mother onto the stretcher. "I've been calling her name for at least twenty minutes."

"I see," one of them replied quietly. "Well, you were smart to call for help."

Chase groaned and rolled his eyes. "I'm almost sixteen; don't talk to me like I'm a kid. Which hospital are you taking her to? My father is a doctor at Saint Anne's, could you take her there?"

"Sure," the worker said somberly as he and his partner rolled the stretcher outside. "Are you riding there with us?" he asked uncomfortably.

"No," a deep voice said. "He'll ride with me."

Chase turned his head as he walked into the yard, relieved to see his father standing in the driveway. "Father!" he shouted, running toward him. "Come help! No one can wake her!"

"Stay there, Robert," his father ordered as he followed the paramedics. "I'll take a look."

Chase watched helplessly as his father stepped into the ambulance, returning only a few minutes later.

"You should stay with her," Chase insisted, watching with wide eyes as the ambulance drove off silently. "She needs help, you're a doctor. I can a get ride to the hospital from a neighbor. Why aren't they turning on the sirens and lights?"

"You never do for a DOA," his father said plainly.

"What?"

"DOA- dead on arrival. Your mother is gone, Robert. Come on now, you're a smart boy, you had to know she was already gone."

"No..no, I didn't," Chase muttered weakly, struggling to breathe. "People go into comas, it might just be a coma. Did you check her?"

"Robert, take a deep breath, there's no point in getting hysterical. You had to know this was coming. Maybe it's for the best."

"The best?" Chase hissed. "How could you say that?!"

"Because it's true," Rowan said simply. "Now, get into the car."

"No, I'll walk."

"Robert, come back! Don't go walking off like a fool, blaming yourself."

Chase paused and turned around, staring directly into his father's uncaring eyes. "I don't blame myself, father. I blame you."

"Chase! Chase!"

Chase blinked and turned his head once he heard Foreman saying his name loudly. "Wh-what?"

"Did you just fall asleep? What is with you today?"

"Nothing, I was just thinking."

"Well, we're here," Foreman announced as he parked his car. "We need to follow the paramedics inside."

"Yeah, of course," Chase muttered as he followed behind Foreman.

"Hello, menions!" House greeted vibrantly as he limped into the parking lot. "You two can go now," he said to the paramedics after they had lowered the stretcher to the ground. "I can see you've already worked your magic on this patient. Better luck next time."

"House, what are you doing here?" Foreman asked.

House rolled his blue eyes. "I just hadn't insulted any paramedics lately so I thought I'd come insult the wannabe docs on wheels. I'm here to see that we get the dead mom to the morgue immediately for an autopsy so we can to try to avoid giving her daughter one. Now why don't you two push the gurney inside before the wind blows the sheet covering her off."

Chase's eyes widened angrily as he helped Foreman wheel the gurney, struggling to keep up with the neurologist. "Audrey consented? You told her that her mom is dead?"

"Oh, relax, I haven't told her yet. I've decided to leave you that honor since you're her favorite. Cameron's with her now being all caring and cuddly, trying to soften the upcoming blow."

Foreman shook his head. "You didn't get a consent form? You want us to perform an illegal autopsy?"

"Chill, bro," House said sarcastically as they walked into the elevator. "The kid's got a fever of 103 degrees and rising, all we have to do is slip her a paper and tell her to sign it, she's too sick to bother reading it."

"Her fever's gone up?" Chase worried.

"Yeah, and fluid's beginning to build up in her lungs, so I suggest we hurry up this autopsy, instead of repeating the obvious."

"Well, you can do whatever you like," Foreman said as the elevator doors opened to the morgue. "But I'm not helping you."

"Fine, go upstairs and test the samples you found and Cameron brought back. And if you touch one of my chocolates, you're fired."

"Careful with the first cut," Foreman warned as he held the door open and Chase pushed the gurney out. "You might find alcohol pouring out of her veins."

"Don't worry, Chase is immune," House quipped.

"I'm not helping you," Chase said sharply, repulsed by the feeling of death that hung in the air and stale smell of drugs and alcohol that lingered on his clothing from the mother's bedroom.

"Scared of the big, bad Cuddy?"

"No," Chase sighed as he walked back to the elevator. "I'm just not doing it," he mumbled, refusing to admit assisting with an autopsy on Audrey's mother would practically be as disgusting as performing one on his own. "And another thing," he said, raising his voice and speaking clearly, "no one is telling Audrey her mother is dead. You hear me? No one."

"Chase, that's insane," Foreman replied. "She has a right to know."

"She will soon enough," Chase insisted. "For now she has enough to deal with, she could even be fighting for her own life for all we know, the last thing she needs is to find out that her mother's is over."

Foreman crossed his arms. "House, you can't agree with this."

House shrugged. "Chase's decision stands because he knows her best and I just like the fact that it'll piss you off."

OOOO

Chase ran his hands through his wet hair, trying to shake off some of the excess water from his shower. After finding Audrey's mother dead body, he had needed a hot shower so badly he didn't care if he had to use the staff's communal facilities. He had hoped to wash away his own memories and soothe his aches and pains; but the water had only washed away the smell of booze and cigarette smoke that had lingered on his clothing.

He winced as he pulled on a pair of scrubs, barely able to stand upright without sharp pains shooting through his back. Wearily he glanced at the bag he had stuffed his clothes into, tempted to pull out the tablets of Advil lying in his pants pocket. Unable to stand the thought of dealing with the horrific smell again, he shoved the bag into a locker and stepped into the hall.

With a deep breath, Chase walked into the elevator and pressed a button. He rested against the wall as the machine lowered and prepared himself to return to the morgue. Although he hated the thought of seeing Mrs. Meadows body again, he wanted to know if House had found any clues that might help them treat Audrey's mystery illness.

When he reached the morgue, he heard two angry voices shouting back and forth, knowing automatically that Cuddy had found out about House's newest illegal activities. Chase stepped out silently when the doors opened, watching Dr. Cuddy pace back and forth.

"Are you out of your mind?" the Dean of Medicine fumed. "How hard is it to ask the daughter to sign a simple piece of paper?"

"Don't blame me," House said smugly as he lifted his gaze from the body. "Blame the wombat behind you."

"Chase!" Cuddy gasped as she spun around. "You knew about this?"

Chase shrugged and immediately regretted it when his body ached in protest. "We need to find out what's wrong with Audrey. And consent takes time and we don't know how much time we have."

"It doesn't take that much time," Cuddy argued. "Why wasn't the daughter consented?"

"Yeah, Chase?" House echoed. "Why wasn't she?"

"Because you didn't bother asking," Chase answered honestly. "You didn't want to risk her saying 'no'."

"True. But I know I had some other reason why this is your fault…Ah, yes, you don't want us telling Adrienne her mother is dead."

"Her name is Audrey. And, no, I don't want her to know. I told you she doesn't need to be stressed out, she's already very ill."

Cuddy sighed. "That I can agree with. I hope this damn autopsy was worth it."

"No, it was a bust," House said simply as he zipped up a body bag. "Mom may have had cancer, cirrhosis, been a smoker, pill popper and an alcoholic, but her lungs still look better than Adrienne's did in her last x-ray."

"Audrey!" Chase hissed.

"Whatever."

"So what did she die of?" Cuddy inquired. "Cancer?"

"If you ask me, she probably killed herself with a cocktail of painkillers and alcohol that didn't mix, or maybe that actually was the mix she wanted, who knows. Anyway, toxicology reports can figure it out and let me get back to my soaps."

"Why bother?" Chase interjected. "After all, this wasn't even illegal, why risk letting anyone know with toxicology reports?"

House smirked. "Despite your amazing ability to kiss my ass, I doubt you're coming up with this to help me out. What's the deal?"

"I just mean she's already dead and it has nothing to do with Audrey, why bother further investigation?"

"And prove it was suicide or accidental death?" House countered. "That is what you're getting at, isn't it?"

Chase released an agitated sigh. "Fine, maybe I am. I just know there's a sick teenager upstairs that has been keeping her crappy excuse for a mother alive for years. The one night she needed someone to take care of her, the mother dies. She doesn't need to be wondering if things would have been different if she were there; and she doesn't need anyone trying to find a reason not to give her the life insurance money. They're poor. Chances are, if her mother even had life insurance they have a clause exempting them from paying in suicide and accidental deaths."

"Chase," Cuddy whispered, "it's really very sweet that you want to help this girl. But you can't tamper with records."

"Oh, really?" Chase challenged. "That's kind of funny coming from a lady who committed perjury to save House's ass from a jail cell."

"Careful, Cuddy," House warned as the female doctor faltered to reply, "I've heard wombats can be vicious when protecting their young."

"All right," Cuddy said as she gathered the blank autopsy report House had been too lazy to fill out. "I'll fill out the report myself; I'm listing cancer as the cause of death."

"Oh, Cuddy!" House called out as his boss stepped into the elevator. "Even though I love what huffing and puffing does to your chest, you can relax. Foreman slid the consent form into a stack of nonsense papers for the girl to sign. Who'd think a former delinquent would use a con to follow the law? Gotta' love the irony."

"I'm going back upstairs to check on Audrey," Chase told House after the elevator doors closed behind Cuddy.

"Wait a second and I'll go with you. Although I'll admit things aren't as fun now that it's plainly obvious why you're so attached. Two kids with alcoholic mothers, dead dads and great hair."

"Would you give it a rest?"

"Oh, fine, don't be a spoilsport. Now get over here and help me move the alcoholic to her new home."

Chase swallowed roughly as he watched House point to the large drawers. "Why can't you do it on your own?"

"Because it's kind of hard to push a gurney and lift a body with one these," House replied easily as he lifted his cane.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Chase mumbled as he helped House roll the gurney across the room and open the long drawer. He quickly looked away from the darkness hiding behind the shiny metal and gripped the bag weakly.

"On three," House ordered.

Chase lifted when the count ended, locking his knees as they threatened to buckle beneath the weight.

"That's pathetic," House said frankly. "That woman couldn't have weighed more than 100 pounds."

"My body is stiff," Chase retorted as he quickly turned away from his boss, refusing to let House see him wince from the pain that shot through his back and legs. "I slept in a chair all night."

"Funny when I wake up something else is always stiff," House shared smugly as he slowly made his way into the elevator. "Now let's go see Audrey."

"You actually called her by the right name," Chase observed as he slouched against the elevator wall as they moved upward. "That means you give a damn now."

House rolled his eyes. "Don't flatter me. I'm just tired of seeing you pout; it's not nearly as attractive as you think it is."

"Whatever," Chase groaned, forcing himself upright when they reached their floor number. "Is this where Foreman was?" he asked as he glanced at the clear walls surrounding each room and the protective barriers separating the doctors from their patients, remembering when he had to wear to a heavy plastic suit to even take a sample of blood from his co-worker after he had contracted an unknown parasitic infection.

"Yep. Home sweet home."

"Do we have to wear the space suits to see Audrey?" Chase asked as he followed House to the end of the hall, looking through the clear glass at Audrey as she tossed and turned in a restless sleep.

"No, you don't."

"Thank God," Chase praised as he stepped through the electronic doors. "That was a nightmare. I see Cameron started her on oxygen," he said as he glanced at the mask strapped to Audrey's face. "What percentage?" he asked as he grabbed the chart.

Chase rolled his eyes when House didn't reply, quickly growing impatient. "House, do you know the percentage? I don't see it written-" he paused as he turned, surprised when he saw House entering the room wearing a mask and gloves.

"What?" House asked, deadpan. "Now I was nice and didn't dress up like a medical astronaut, it's obvious you and the suit have issues. I could send a therapist down if you like."

"You said I didn't have to wear the suit."

"That's right, you don't."

"Then why are you?" Chase challenged nervously.

"Because I'm not sick and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Neither am I!"

"Right," House replied sarcastically as he pulled back the curtain in front of Audrey's gurney, revealing the empty bed across from it. "That's why you've been stiff all day, you can't stand up straight or even lift a few pounds. Make yourself comfortable."

"It wasn't a few pounds."

"I've seen you help move a 600 pound man, give it up."

"I am not sick!" Chase repeated.

House squinted. "Then why are you flushed?"

"I-I-"Chase stammered, pressing his hands to his cheeks, alarmed when he felt the warmth spreading onto his fingers. "Fine, maybe I caught a cold. But it doesn't mean I have what Audrey has. She was severely dehydrated, had intense back pain and she fainted."

"She's smaller and younger than you, it wouldn't be uncommon for her to struggle more at first. Now sit down and put this under your tongue," House demanded as he shoved a thermometer into his hand.

"Fine," Chase relented, "I'll prove I'm okay."

Bitterly, Chase turned on the thermometer and slid it under his tongue, waiting impatiently for his temperature to register. He held back a groan as House grabbed his wrist and wrote down his pulse, then shone a penlight into his eyes.

When the thermometer sounded, he quickly reached up to grasp it, but House pushed his hand away and removed it himself.

"Well?" Chase prompted.

House simply turned the thermometer around and held it front of his eyes. Chase felt his heartbeat rise as he read the number: 99.4.

"It's only a low grade fever," he fought.

"So was Audrey's in the beginning. Give me your wrist," House ordered.

"Why? You already took my pulse."

"I'm making things official," House said as he snapped a hospital bracelet around Chase's wrist.