Title: Decay and Renewal
Author: norbooboo
Genre: Non-Canon/ Friendship
Summary: Change is messy, difficult, and painful, but sometimes good can come from bad and acceptance from adversity. When a bomb inflicts damage on the hospital and two members of the diagnostics department will things ever be the same?
See Author's Note after story.
Sorry for any OOCness. I tried to avoid it, but it definitely crept into this chapter.
Fish should not leave their depths,
And swords should not leave their scabbards.
Tao Te Ching 36
Decay and Renewal
6. Opposition part b
The flight had been long and he hadn't relaxed for a moment of it, but finally Foreman was in Australia. Melbourne Airport to be specific and he didn't have a clue what to do next. The answer came in the form of a manilla envelope with his name on it. 'Dr. Eric Foreman' it read, held up by an older man with snowy white hair and a dark complexion. He was holding the sign and scanning the crowd that was leaving the customs area. He walked up to the man with his arm outstretched, "I'm Eric Foreman, you must be Noel Marou."
The man grabbed Foreman's hand and pumped it up and down enthusiastically. "You must be very tired, I will take you to your hotel. I hope you don't mind that I have booked a room for you. It is not the most expensive, but I'm sure you will find..."
"I'm sorry to be rude, but there is no way in hell that I'm going to go take a 'nap' while my best friend could be...," he stopped, unwilling even to speculate. "I don't want a hotel room or food or rest or anything! I just want to find Chase, make sure he is alright. I don't even know where he is in this Godforsaken country." Several people were staring now and Foreman realized that he had been just shy of yelling at the man. While taking a moment to compose himself, he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"Rude, perhaps. Understandable, definitely. Be that as it may, my friend John Curtis asked me to take care of you and this problem and that is what I am doing. I have located the hospital where your friend is located and have done some investigating. This is not the first time the police have had complaints about the Crawford Institute. Now you could go barging in there demanding to see your friend, but would most likely find yourself out on your ass. I know, I've tried it." Noel Marou was quickly gaining Foreman's trust. Whether it was the calmness of his tone, the firmness of his touch, or the fire that one could clearly see burning in the man's eyes, he couldn't say. Maybe it was just that Marou had taken the danger seriously and had started to work right away. Just the knowledge that they knew where Chase was gave him heart. Knowledge had always been at the core of his hardest won victories.
"Why won't they let us see him?"
Marou took Foreman's carry-on bag from him and started toward the exit. "They claim that without Dr. Rowan Chase's permission they can't allow just anyone in. And that would be true if Dr. Chase was his son's guardian and his lawyers had bothered to have the young man declared incompetent to make his own medical and legal decisions."
"They didn't?" Foreman asked, having a hard time keeping the excitement from his voice. It was his first piece of good luck in months."
"No. So until they do Robert Chase can make his own decisions and choose his own doctors. As of right now, the federal prosecutor in family court and the police are recognizing you as Robert's doctor; his chosen doctor. What I need you to understand is that we must move carefully. You are no doubt going to become impatient with the process, but we are all doing what is best for your friend."
"Alright, you're the boss. What do we do first?"
"We go to your hotel. You eat and rest while we wait for a representative of family court and the police to arrive to interview you. They already have statements from your co-workers in the States, but having yours first hand will make the difference. Then we visit Crawford and you determine if Robert needs to be removed for health reasons. Of course, I cannot; would not ask you to lie, that would be unethical, but I think that this would be a good time to ere on the side of caution."
"You said the police have already had complaints."
"Let's get to my car and I'll tell you what I know so far."
***** ***** *****
Marou had made good use of the fourteen hours he had while Foreman was traveling. The Crawford Institute, or more correctly The Crawford Institute for the Treatment of Mental Disability, treated everything from cerebral palsy to down syndrome to schizophrenia and everything in between. It had gained a reputation among the rich and famous, 'the beautiful people', as a place you could unload family members who weren't so 'beautiful' It was housed in a gorgeously appointed manor on the outskirts of Melbourne and to all outward appearances a humane alternative when someone could not be cared for at home. Of course it cost a lot, but Crawford earned every penny. Their real service was making embarrassing, annoying, needy, and broken family problems disappear. Most of those who went to Crawford stayed patients there for the remainder of their lives. The police had started hearing reports of mistreatment of patients a year prior, but had nothing they could use until Noel Marou called. The lieutenant in charge of the case had a son with autism and though he was a consummate professional there was no way to avoid taking the whole thing personally. He was going to be damn sure that if something funny was going on at Crawford he was going to shut them down.
Foreman listened to all of this as he hungrily downed a sandwich Marou had kindly ordered from room service. Everything the lawyer told him was giving him hope. Since Chase had never been declared incompetent, never asked for Foreman to be removed from his case, and had initiated the phone call asking for help everything was working in their favor. Not only was Marou confident they would get Chase away from whatever bad situation he was in at Crawford, he also felt it was a real possibility that they could have Foreman named his guardian. Chase could come home to New Jersey and there would be nothing Rowan Chase would be able to do about it. Maybe it was the food in his stomach or maybe the little bit of sleep he had managed, but whatever it was he was feeling positive; the storm that had been raging since House had turned on the speaker phone back at PPTH was subsiding.
"How much longer 'til they get here?" Foreman asked referring to the police and prosecutor. "You asked me to be patient and I am, but you gotta understand that Chase and I... Well, I just need to make sure he's alright."
Foreman's question couldn't have been more well timed if he had a crystal ball. There was a knock on the door before Marou could even open his mouth to answer. There was a flurry of introductions and handshakes and then down to business. An hour and about a million questions later, Foreman's good mood and patience were definitely slipping.
"Ms. Copeland," the head Family Court prosecutor, "listen, I know your trying to be careful, but to put it like a doctor – you can verify your diagnosis with all the tests you want, but if the patient dies..." He had just been trying to make a point and had said the word without thinking, but as soon as he heard it with his ears his heart skipped a beat. That couldn't be a real possibility could it? Dammit, they needed to stop dawdling. "Can we just go to this Crawford place already. I'm telling you I heard someone hit Chase. There is no mistaking that sound. Isn't that enough?"
"I'm sorry, I know that you must be very worried," said Katherine Copeland. For all of her toughness, she wasn't heartless. She just didn't have the kind of personality that allowed her to do things by half. She was passionate about her cases and she had been working this case for over a year. Ever since the first person, an orderly that used to work at the Crawford Institute, came to her with stories of abuse of people who had no way of defending themselves she was determined to be their defense. "I think that with all you've given us and any physical evidence we can retrieve today we can finally get these people. Let me just call Doctor Burke."
"I'm Chase's doctor. I thought that was the whole point."
"Yes, but you are not certified to practice medicine in Australia so I want to make sure we have a local doctor there. I've known Christine Burke for many years. She's very good and specializes in cases of abuse. As long as you can make sure your friend agrees to have her treat him along with you we'll be okay from a legal standpoint. Why don't you get ready and I'll call and have her meet us there." When Foreman hesitated she softened for a moment recognizing how hard it was for this man to trust. She understood because she often found trusting people the most difficult thing in the world. "I promise you, I will do whatever needs to be done for your friend. I'm definitely trying to make my case, but people come first." It wasn't that easy to gain Eric Foreman's trust, but it wasn't as if he had a lot of alternatives.
***** ***** *****
The drive out to The Crawford Institute was thirty-five minutes of silence and tension and anticipation. It was possibly the first time Foreman dearly wished for House's company. The man would be making some incredibly insensitive remark, coming on to Ms. Copeland, insulting the entire country of Australia, calling Foreman a fool, and Chase a Half-Brain who caused too much trouble, conceivably all at the same time. At least that would give him something to think about other than the stifling silence in Noel Marou's black sedan and what lay ahead.
When they arrived he sprang from the car like it was on fire. The Crawford Institute was an imposing building that reminded him of the pictures he had seen in history books of the old plantation homes in the south. Though this looked more like the golden grasses of California than the lush greens of the South Carolina. There wasn't another building for at least a mile and that coupled with the way the gray mansion seemed to just jut from the earth all made him feel uncomfortable. Anything could happen here and who would know. There didn't seem to be any cars of visiting family just a large black Mercedes, a couple of smaller economy cars, and a small plaque with very small letters spelling out for the Treatment of Mental Disabilityunder larger ones declaring that this wasThe Crawford Institute. An involuntary shudder ran up his spine. He didn't give a damn what 'evidence' they found in there, his brother wasn't staying here.
"Are you ready for this?" Marou was at his side now. "You need to be calm, no matter what. Can you do that?"
Foreman took in his lawyer's words and turned his face up to the elegant but austere facade of the Crawford Institute. "Mr. Marou, it probably hasn't seemed like it up until now, but I'm actually a very calm person. I face situations all the time where my remaining calm is the difference between life and death for my patient."
"Yes, I'm sure, but you'll forgive me for pointing out that you probably didn't have a personal relationship with those patients. You may see something in there that makes you angry, makes you very angry and I need to know that no matter what you will remain calm and do whatever myself, the police, and Katherine tell you." The prosecutor and the lieutenant had now joined them.
"I will do anything you tell me to do, except one thing. I won't leave Chase here. He is leaving this place today with me – no matter what. Otherwise, you are in charge."
"There's Christine," Ms. Copeland said acknowledging a small blue car that had driven up. "Let me help her and we'll get started. Take a moment Doctor Foreman. Things will be pretty intense from here on out."
He was seriously tired of taking 'moments', but he refrained from saying so. The doctor was pulling a variety of things from the back seat of her car, including a wheelchair. 'Just being prepared,' Foreman said to himself, unwilling to admit that Chase might not be able to leave on his own steam.
Copeland and Doctor Burke came up to them. "Doctor Eric Foreman this is my friend Doctor Burke, Doctor Burke, Doctor Foreman from America."
"Hello, what is your specialty Doctor Foreman?" Burke had a pleasant voice that should have belonged to someone selling flowers, not a doctor who investigated abuse.
"Hi, neurology. What about yourself?" He found these pleasantries a test of his patience.
"I'm a family practitioner, but for a few years now I've been helping Katherine with abuse cases," she said. "But I'm guessing you don't really care about that right about now. Should we se to your friend?"
"Please." Finally, someone was getting down to business. Finally someone seemed to understand.
Crunching across the white stones of the drive toward the foreboding building, he couldn't help the feeling that he was heading into one of the biggest challenges life had handed him yet. He had faced childhood in a neighborhood where drugs were sold on the corner, he had faced juvenile detention, and he had faced medical school where even his best never seemed to be enough to erase judgements made because of the color of his skin. This was something else though. Everything else had been just about himself. This couldn't be.
They found themselves greeted at the door by a tall skinny woman dressed in a very chic black suit with a pencil skirt and gray pumps. She was actually quite an attractive woman with dark brown hair and striking features. Not quite what Foreman had been expecting. She smiled at the gathered group, but the smile most definitely did not make it to her deep brown eyes. This was Sela Crawford, daughter of Montgomery Crawford, founder of the Crawford Institute.
"Ms. Copeland, I hope we aren't going to repeat our meeting in February. I've given you my assurance that our patients are receiving the best care available in the country. I've also told you that without some sort of warrant and more importantly without the approval of the patients families you cannot come in here and start some sort of inquisition." The woman was far too smug. She felt she had the upper hand, though her eyes were wandering over the all the faces gathered at the door and must have had a feeling something was different.
"Ms. Crawford, no one regrets the incident in February more than myself." This was true, she regretted that she didn't get what she wanted. "However we are here on other business. One of your patients called his doctor in America and asked to be seen. Police Lieutenant Jones and I are just here to make sure that everything goes smoothly."
"I have no idea what you are talking about. The patients here at the Crawford Institute are under our doctors exclusive care and few of them would be capable of calling America even if they had access to a telephone. I have no time for your machinations Ms. Copeland. Your office has been indulging in a witch-hunt and I will see to it that my government contacts know what is going on."
"Actually Robert Chase is a patient here and he has retained his doctor from America. He called Doctor Foreman," Here she gestured to him, "and, contrary to what we've been led to believe about American doctors, has paid his patient a house call." The sweetness in Copeland's voice was little scary.
"Robert Chase is not competent to make any decision about his health or his doctors. He is under my care per his father's request."
"Well if Robert was declared incompetent it is not in the court records of either our country or in the United States. Furthermore, Dr. Rowan Chase has never been declared Robert's guardian. So if you will please show Doctor Foreman and his local oversight, Doctor Burke to Robert's room we will get out of your way soon enough."
The tension between these two women was intense. Foreman had the feeling that Copeland was more than a match for this Crawford woman, this woman who seemed to be so confident. But Katherine had more than just confidence. She had righteousness and justice.
"Fine Ms. Copeland. Doctors Burke, Foreman come right this way." She backed into the manor allowing the group to enter. When everyone moved to enter she added, "I can only allow the doctors to see Robert."
"Oh," said Copeland feigning innocence. "I will have to see Robert first in order to make sure that he did indeed call Doctor Foreman and that he indeed needs to see him. If it is as you say and there is no way he could have done so, well I might have to send Doctor Foreman on his way back to America." Having put it that way, the prosecutor knew she couldn't be denied.
"Yes, of course." It was obvious that Sela Crawford had had enough talking. That suited Foreman just fine, because he had long had enough talking.
The procession of doctors, lawyers, and police made their way up a winding staircase. This led away from the main house and to a newer section that had been added to the back of the building so that it wouldn't mar the effect the manor house had from outside. And if it was possible this section was even less appealing than the main house, though it had the added feature of having no character at all. It just reeked of 'institution', cold, austere, and functional. An elevator ride up two floors and another walk down a gray cinderblock constructed hallway found them at the door of Robert Chase.
So far this was playing out just as the orderly that had come to Copeland a year earlier said. He had told her that when the wealthy families came to Crawford looking for a place to 'put' their sick or disabled relations, they would be shown the well appointed treatment facilities and inviting bedrooms in the manor house and any guilt they were feeling was assuaged. Of course they never saw this part of the building. The truth was that for some institutionalizing their loved ones was humane and necessary and those families deserved to be told the truth. Sela Crawford was very good at making sure she attracted the type of people to her institute who just wanted their problem to go away. The testimony of the orderly in and of itself should have been enough for a warrant, but The Crawford Institute claimed that the orderly had been fired and was just trying to get revenge. They had used influential contacts in the justice department to push their case through. There was going to be no stopping Katherine Copeland this time. She knew in her gut that Robert Chase was going to be the key to putting an end to abuse at The Crawford Institute.
"Why aren't there windows in this door?" Copeland asked immediately. "Windows are required by the law."
Crawford knew better than to answer at this point. Words could be used against you, silence not so much. "Would you like to go in first Ms. Copeland?"
"Yes. I'll confirm Robert's wishes on this matter and we'll take it from there."
"I just want to let the doctors know that Robert cut his own hair." Crawford suddenly announced. Anyone could see that the woman was becoming nervous.
"What?" Both Foreman and Burke spoke at the same time.
"Robert had a paranoid brake about a week ago and cut his hair with a pair of scissors. He cut his hair and his scalp in a few places as well. That is why he is being kept in a safe room." She said all of this with confidence, but also with a hint of begging. Begging them to understand. That made Foreman pretty nervous.
The woman took a key from her pocket and opened the door and rolled her eyes when the lawyer commented that there were only certain conditions in which a patients door could legally be locked. This was definitely not going the way she wanted.
It took all of Foreman's control not to push past both women into the room. This was all taking ridiculously long. Just when he was about to give in to his need to get to Chase, he felt a strong almost painful pressure on his foot. He turned to Noel Marou, who looked straight into his eyes as if to say 'Just hold on...we're almost there.' He supposed having his foot stepped on was better than the whack in the shin House would have given him. 'Just hold on,' he told himself, 'we're almost there.'
The two women disappeared into the room, but weren't gone long.
Katherine Copeland looked shaken as she grabbed Doctor Burke's arm. "You better get in there. He doesn't look so good."
Foreman didn't waste anytime nearly knocking Doctor Crawford down as he pushed passed her into the room. It was as gray and windowless as the rest of the place and had nothing in it save a bed and the pitiful figure on it. If one didn't know that this patient was a twenty-eight year old man it would be assumed that a teenager occupied the bed for he seemed so small. Chase was pale and thin and his head was almost completely bald with just patches of short hair. At least one of the cuts on his head looked red and angry. Of more concern was the fact that he didn't seem to be reacting to the activity going on around him at all.
"Chase, hey kid can you hear me?" Foreman got nothing but a slow blink for his trouble. "He's in a catatonic stupor."
Burke nodded as she was taking his pulse. "His BP is low and he looks dehydrated."
Foreman checked his friends eyes with the pen light he always carried in his jacket pocket. Only the right pupil was reactive and both were very dry as was the lining of the mouth. He turned his attention to a nasty looking bruise on the left side of his friends face. This was no self-inflicted wound. At the same time Doctor Burke was checking the right forearm which looked a little swollen. When she lifted it they got the first response from Chase.
"Ow, n..no."
"Chase, Chase can you hear me? Just look at me okay." Foreman took both of Chase's cheeks in his hands and gently forced the young man to look at him. There was definitely recognition in the eyes. He still didn't speak, but slowly reached out his left hand to touch Foreman's shoulder.
Burke jumped up to get the wheelchair that waited in the hall. "He needs to get to the hospital immediately. He's dangerously dehydrated and I think has a broken arm," she spoke directly to Copeland studiously avoiding eye contact with the director of the institute. She was fairly sure that if she looked at Crawford she would be compelled to slap the woman. She had no compassion for people who hurt those who could not defend themselves.
Back in the room Foreman wasn't making any progress getting Chase to communicate. "Can you tell me if anything other than your arm hurts." Chase didn't respond. He now had a hold of his friends hand and didn't appear in any hurry to let go.
"Let's just get him out of here."
It didn't take much of their combined strength to lift Chase and place him in the wheelchair though it was made awkward by the fact that he wouldn't in fact let go of Foreman's hand. The latter didn't really mind though. "Okay man, it's time to get the hell out of this place."
In the hallway Dr. Crawford looked like she was starting to sweat a little and she kept straightening and re-straightening the collar of her expensive wool suit. When the wheelchair exited the room with its occupant she looked downright agitated.
"What do you think you're doing. You can't just remove a patient from the center without family consent. I need to call Dr. Chase and inform him." She knew that Robert Chase leaving the Institute would have devastating results, for her that was. "I can treat him here."
"My patient is leaving here, now." Foreman cut Copeland off. "My lawyer, Mr. Marou, has informed me that Chase is competent to make his own decisions and he wants to leave and find care at another facility, namely Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital."
"I haven't heard Robert say any such thing. He is mentally ill and as we can all clearly see cannot communicate his wishes. Catatonia is a symptom of schizophrenia, not his earlier injuries. You are not qualified..."
"W...want..t to g..g..go." All eyes shot to the patient in question. Though Chase wasn't looking at anyone and was still holding on to Foreman's hand for dear life, everyone heard what he said. I want to go. "N..n..now!"
"I think that he has made his wishes quite clear Doctor Crawford." Copeland was again using her scary sweet voice. "When you get a hold of his father just give him my number. Tell him, I've been trying to reach him for the last day and have some questions. Don't worry about showing us out, I think that the lieutenant can find the way."
***** ***** *****
Sela Crawford closed and locked the door of her office. She had just finished yelling at the orderly who had allowed his cell phone to be stolen by a patient who presumably had the faculties of a ten year old. The same orderly was responsible for variety of bruises evident on Robert Chase. Not that that bothered her. She truly hated the people in her care, always had. Her father Montgomery Crawford had started the Institute when she was just a young girl. She couldn't remember living anywhere else. This life was all she knew.
Montgomery Crawford had very distinct beliefs about the care of what he called 'mental defectives'. He fervently believed that society was too soft, too accommodating and that created all of the 'mental illness' he treated. In he view there was no need to pamper anyone. He was also a greedy man and those two guiding principles gave birth to The Crawford Institute forthe Treatment of Mental Disability. He had groomed his daughter from her earliest memories to take over for him after his death. She went to the School of Behavioural Science at the University of Melbourne to get her degree in psychology and went to work for her father. All the time she was developing a greater and greater hatred for the patients; the defectives. And yet she had nothing else, only the need to carry on her father's work and grow the institutes bank account. The only joy in her life was seeing the money coming in spending it on vacations she took with no one and lavish furnishings in a room she shared with no one.
Sitting at the maple desk that had been her father's before her, Sela Crawford began to cry. Everything was going to be destroyed and she wasn't sure she really cared.
***** ***** *****
The crunching rocks in the front drive were more pronounced under the wheels of the wheelchair, but didn't hold quite the same ominous tone. Foreman didn't feel out of control anymore. Now the ball was in his court. Everyone seemed to notice the difference, because instead of telling him what to do or telling him to be patient they were following his lead. Listening as he told them to help him get Chase into Marou's car. Listening as he told Copeland to drive Burke's car so the doctor could drive with Chase. Listening when he told the lawyer and the police that they could ask Chase questions when he said they could. Copeland complained to Marou a little bit, but was reminded by the older man that he was Foreman's lawyer.
Then they were finally on the road to The Royal Melbourne Hospital. Burke was in the front with Marou, Foreman in the back monitoring his friends vitals. When the car left the distinctive sound of the stone drive for the smooth hum of the paved road Chase suddenly looked directly at Foreman.
"Kn...kneww yyou w..woould.d c..c..come,"he forced out and then let out a contented sigh and rested his head on his friends shoulder.
***** ***** *****
A full examination by the emergency room staff at The Royal Melbourne Hospital revealed that Chase was indeed suffering from moderate dehydration, malnourishment, a handful of lacerations to the scalp, and also a detached retina in his left eye that had left him with only 15% vision in that eye. It would require surgery if there was any chance of regaining some of the lost sight, but that would have to come later. Luckily the right arm wasn't broken just sprained. He was admitted to the hospital to monitor the administering of fluids and as soon as he was settled into the bed by the nurses he dropped into a deep sleep. Foreman would have liked to talk to his friend, but knew that sleep was what he needed now. He lowered himself into the big chair next to the bed. It was so comfortable his first thought was how he needed to talk Cuddy into getting ones like it for PPTH. Letting out a breath he felt he had been holding for a very long time, he stretched his arms up above his head earning a series of satisfying pops from his neck and back.
He had called the gang back in New Jersey and explained everything that had happened. Cameron was relieved that Chase was okay and safe now, Wilson asked questions about what was next and was there anything they could do to help, and House of course just made mocking comments about everyone involved, saving the juiciest for one Rowan Chase. Everyone could tell how angry he was because his humor fell flat when speaking of the man.
Foreman couldn't quite join in House's taunts and jibes of the man because in his heart he knew that Rowan Chase still had too much control over his and Chase's future, but that was a battle for the next day. Today's battle had been won and now was the time for rest. The nurses were kind enough to allow him to stay when visiting hours were done, instead showing him how the chair opened up into a small sleeping surface. Saying it was a bed would have been stretching things, but his last thought before falling asleep comfortably within reach of his brother was that Cuddy really needed to get some of these.
***** ***** *****
"Eric, I need to question Robert today. I understand your desire to protect him, but I have no choice. My clerk just phoned and said someone filed for a competency hearing..."
"We know," Noel Marou answered, his tone a gentle reminder that she needed to speak to him not his client first.
"Why didn't you call me Noel. You know we need access to Robert for our case. Who was it the father? He won't want us talking to his son. You should have let me know so I can question him before we're locked out."
"Your case, Katherine. I work for Eric. I have been at the courthouse all morning filing a petition for Eric to have guardianship over our young friend. The court will likely find Robert incompetent and we want to make sure that they see us as taking an active stance as to his future. I need to focus on this and this alone."
"But Noel you now how important..."
"And besides Chase is ready to answer your questions." Foreman stepped in forestalling any further 'lawyer arguing'.
"Really? Already? I was hoping, pushing maybe, but I didn't think.."
Marou held up his phone so Copeland could see the screen. "Actually I was just calling you when you got here."
"He's a lot stronger than you'd think," Foreman said pride evident in his voice.
"That's great," she said taking her phone from her pocket and fumbling with her laptop bag. "I can have a court reporter and a judge here in half an hour." It was clear she hadn't expected to talk to Chase. "I'll have to contact the Crawford lawyers."
"I don't want that Crawford woman anywhere near him." he insisted.
"Don't worry. That won't happen." Marou put a reassuring hand on his clients arm.
"Our only obligation is to inform her lawyers and allow them to listen in on the testimony."
Indeed a little mustached man identifying himself as Mr. Clark representing The Crawford Institute did join Foreman, Marou, Copeland, the court-reporter and the judge in the confines of Chase's small hospital room.
"H..House..will s.. thhhis at..tention will g..go t..to mmmy h..head." Chase joked with Foreman.
"Or he might wonder why all these people are interested in a half-brain." Foreman's comment earned him strange looks from the group, but since Chase laughed and seemed more at ease he didn't really care what they thought.
The process was very slow going. Chase's verbal skills had deteriorated since he had left New Jersey and he would also become upset when discussing some of the treatment he received at Crawford. But they got through it, although the judge had them take a break after his description of the beating of an older gentleman with Alzheimer's. Tears were visible on his cheeks as he told them that the man was hit by an orderly named Frank because he had forgotten his way back to his room after art therapy class. When Chase had interceded on the man's behalf Frank had grabbed him by the hair and dragged him to his own room. It was after that that he decided to cut his hair. In his mind it seemed like a solid plan. Having hair meant you got hurt; cut your hair you won't get hurt. The reasoning sounded ridiculous to those listening, but to someone with a damaged frontal lobe and frontal cortex it probably seemed obvious. Of course the hair went but the abuse didn't. When all had seemed darkest he had remembered what House had said. "You can rely on us though; you call if you need anything." And so when he saw the phone attached to Frank the orderly's waist he took it and made his desperate plea. At the end of three hours the Katherine Copeland had no more questions just more conviction that she needed to nail the Crawford Institute.
"Proud of you," was all Foreman said when they were finished.
***** ***** *****
The competency hearing was two days later and didn't go quite as Foreman and his lawyer hoped, though not as badly as it could have. Sela Crawford had decided not to even try fighting. She made a deal with the prosecutor's office. The Institute was closed and she was put on probation. The police had enough evidence from the all of the patients to file charges against the cruel orderlies. Katherine was overjoyed and with the weight of that off her shoulders personally represented Chase along with an ad litem appointed by the court.
The first sight Foreman had of Rowan Chase since the airport in Newark held more emotion that he would have cared for. He wanted so badly to just be calm and focused, but as soon as he saw the tall stately man all that went out the window. If he wasn't in a court of law it was very likely he would have taken a swing at the man.
Rowan Chase's dark eyes took in the appearance of his son; the ace bandage and plastic brace on the sprained arm, the eye patch that had was relieving the work of the left retina until it could be repaired, and the hair which had been completely shaved at the hospital so the lacerations could be tended; without betraying an ounce of emotion. "Robert, how are you?"
"F...fff... OK s..sir." Rowan came up to Foreman and Chase as if nothing was wrong; as if he had every right to put his hand on his son's shoulder; as if there was no reason not to push that arm away.
"Doctor Foreman please calm down."
"Calm down? Exactly where have you been and why the hell did you leave him in that place? You knew I would take care of him."
"None of this concerns you and I'm sorry that Robert saw fit to contact you instead of me in the first place."
"He called me because he knows I'm going to be there for him. We've been trying to call you for days. Should he have waited until you felt like maybe you missed him and came for a visit. Maybe he would have done you the favor of d..."
"Eric." His lawyer's voice finally broke through the haze of fury that had overcome him. "I need for you to come sit with me. It'll be better if you don't speak to Doctor Chase without your lawyer present. And besides," Marou subtly gestured to Chase, "I don't think this is in Robert's best interests at the moment."
Chase's eyes were wide darting fearfully from Foreman to his father. "Oh man I'm sorry this isn't what you need. I'm sorry I didn't mean to yell at your dad." He had, but Chase didn't need to know that. The young man looked fearful for a moment more than seemed to make a decision. "D..don't..t worrry. I'mm ok..kkay."
"I know you are." He put his arm around his shoulder and led him to where he needed to sit with Katherine and the ad litem. "Let's get this over with and then we'll go to that beach you were talking about."
***** ***** *****
The day had not gone quite how they had hoped, though not as badly as it could have. The judge determined that the requirements for declaring Chase incompetent had been met. He got a funny look on his face hearing the judge call him 'incompetent' but Foreman didn't have a chance to find out what he was thinking because the judge was talking about Chase's guardianship.
"Doctor Foreman, while I appreciate that Robert feels a close bond to you and it is quite apparent you are a caring and dedicated friend, I cannot be sure that these feelings will sustain what will often be a difficult and challenging situation. I don't think that you have thought through what it means to be the guardian to someone with significant mental, emotional and other health needs. I am not, however, convinced that you, Doctor Chase are a better alternative. I see no evidence that you have played an active role as a father to Robert from the time he was fifteen years old. And when given the chance to make up for past mistakes you only made more. The incident in which your son accidently caused his stepmother a minor burn did not warrant dumping him in a facility in which you obviously did little research. But the state has tied my hands. The law requires that I make all possible attempts to keep a family intact. This court is unable to come to a considered opinion at this time." The judge stopped to push her glasses up her nose and clear her throat. "Therefore I am going to leave Robert Chase in the care of a rehabilitation center of the court's choosing for a period of one month after which we will reconvene to determine the best course of action for him moving into the future. Doctor Foreman I would like to see that you have thought through your decision to provide for your friend. This is a lifetime commitment not to be made rashly. Also this court will need to see that you are continuing your employment in the United States and that your government is willing to grant citizenship to Robert. I suggest you use this time wisely. Doctor Chase if you feel that it is in your son's best interest to be institutionalized you will need to provide much better evidence than you have today and the court demands you find a center that is proper for his needs. I want to be able to keep your family together, but you will need to show this court that you can put you're son above your career; above yourself. Robert?"
Chase jumped a little as the judge addressed him directly. "Y..yes?"
"Do you understand what what all of this means?"
"N..no. I j..just want t..to go hhome withh E..Eric. I d..don't w..want t..t..to go to a ccenter."
"Well, it seems you understand more than you think. I know that you would rather be with your friend, but it's my job to take in account all sides and do what I think is best. I need a little time to do that and believe me I will think about what you want above all else. The Melbourne Rehabilitation Hospital is a wonderful place and you will find it is nothing like the Crawford Institute. I am going to allow Eric to take you there after you have had a couple of days together, as he did come half way round the world to see you." She was trying to be kind. Despite that, she could clearly see that the young man was far from convinced that she was doing 'what was best for him'. Her job had many moments like this, but that didn't make it any easier. "The lawyers can see my clerk for details of my decision. I will see you all in one month. This court is adjourned." The gavel hit and it was over.
***** ***** *****
The decision was made and Noel Marou had the unenviable task of explaining to his client that it wasn't as bad as it seemed.
"Listen, my friend. Remember that it was a distinct possibility that the court was going to side with Doctor Chase without even giving your claim a second thought. Judge Connors sounded right sympathetic to you. I have been in family court more times than you care to know and I can read a judge pretty well. She doesn't like Rowan Chase. She is going to decide in your favor."
"Okay, great, but in the meantime I have to leave Chase in another damn hospital until she does what you say she has already decided to do. I thought the American justice system was screwed up." Foreman had been calm and collected the entire drive back from the courthouse not wanting to upset Chase. They were at the opthamologist before a planned outing to Sandringham Beach and with Chase in with the doctor, he took a moment to vent his frustration borne of fear and anger. "I've said goodbye to him once already, let his father have his way once already. Isn't that enough dammit?"
Marou sighed and shook his head. "Life demands more of us sometimes. You can shout and fight all you want, you have to in fact, but in the end the things that matter the most cost more than our best. I know a woman who had her son taken away from her and she fought her whole life to just see and talk to him. She died with the last memory of her son seeing him drive away in a government car. So no, no it isn't enough." The shocked look on Foreman's face elicited another sigh. "But listen to me, you will not travel that road. Robert will come home with you I promise. Just not yet. "
Just then Chase came out of the exam room followed by the opthamologist. "C..can we go t..to the beach no..now?"
"Yeah let's go see if these Australian beaches are as great as you say they are."
***** ***** *****
Foreman's tickets back to the US gave him three days to spend with Chase and make sure that The Melbourne Rehabilitation Hospital was going to be okay. The director there was a woman named Mary Simpson and she was extremely good at her job. She was a neurologist with a emphasis in the treatment of traumatic brain injury. Foreman liked the way she did her assessment and how she had obviously read his notes.
"Chase, I'd like you to meet with our speech therapist for a little while and then you and Eric can go. I understand you have some plans for this afternoon."
"G..going t..to watch fffooty at..t the T...Telstr..ra D..Dome."
"Oh, yeah? I'm a North Melbourne fan. How about you?" Mary asked. Foreman wondered if she was just making conversation or testing Chase's long-term memory. He suspected a bit of both.
"Uused t..to fff...ff like the Mmagp..pies."
"Oh Collingwood. Well, the speech therapist is here and I'm sure he'll be very quick and you'll be off to your game."
Foreman followed Mary from the room with a quick smile to Chase. "I'll be right outside." Chase rolled his eyes a little as if to say, 'remember I'm not a baby.' He didn't miss the silent communication. "Yeah, yeah, I know."
Outside the room, Mary addressed Foreman. "He has done some backsliding since your last exam in the States, but it's not as bad as it could have been. I don't see any reason why he won't bounce right back in the right conditions."
"Meaning, this place," he said, not exactly trying to hide his dislike of the whole situation.
"Well, yes and no. I think that we can do a lot for him here, but no I meant with you. He doesn't need to be in rehabilitation full time. We both know that. Yes the lack of executive function affects everything he does and the truth is all the research I've seen indicates that damage like the sort his brain has been subjected to doesn't heal or reassign function, but that doesn't mean he can't learn to live a fairly normal life within his new limits. Granted he won't be able to live alone, but I have a feeling that's where you come in."
Foreman needed a moment to realize that this woman was basically saying she thought Chase should be with him. That had to be good. "Are you going to tell the judge that?"
"She will ask for a report from me and having met with both yourself and Doctor Chase, I think that I can safely say that my recommendation will be for Chase to be with you."
"You don't call him Robert. He doesn't like Robert" He hadn't said the last part alone. Mary had said the same words at the same time. They both laughed. This lady was alright.
"Well, he should be about done. I guess we'll see you tomorrow at 3:00. I know this isn't easy, but I promise you we'll take good care of him."
***** ***** *****
Three o'clock came and found them again at the Melbourne Rehabilitation Hospital. Chase wasn't speaking and Foreman was vibrating with pent up frustration. He had kept everything positive for his friend's sake, but he really wanted to shout. Everyone; Marou, Mary, even Katherine Copeland; had tried to reassure him that everything was great and he just needed to be patient. Everything would work out. For years to come his overriding memory of Australia would be "Be patient". All he really wanted to do was yell and vent and say something profoundly offensive. He decided that back in Jersey he never needed to say something offensive during frustrating situations because House took care of that. Notwithstanding how he felt inside, his mother had raised him to be calm and polite so he plastered a smile on his face and pushed the emotions down out of sight.
Noel Marou was there, having become more than just their attorney, but also a friend. He knew better than to say anything at this point. He could see that his client was at the end of his rope
Mary Simpson knew that there was nothing to be gained by dragging the goodbye out and yet it broke her heart to be the one to be blunt. "Eric, you have to go and trust that he will be okay."
"He's been quiet all day. I just don't think he can handle this."
"Yes he can. You're the one who keeps telling everyone that Robert Chase is strong. This is more about you. You're afraid he'll be upset, upset with you. I like you, but any idiot can see that you are used to getting your way by shear force of will, but not this time. You can't bring Chase with you and you need to just get over it. You are going to say goodbye and no matter what he does you are going to walk out that door. I hope that it's not a final goodbye, but right now that doesn't matter. Do what is right for him. Tell him everything will be fine and you will see him soon. Now, before it gets harder" With that she turned to lead them to the room where Chase was getting settled in.
This room couldn't have been more different than the one at The Crawford Institute if that was its only purpose. There was a large window shrouded by a creamy yellow curtain, a matching bedroom set that was of course utilitarian in appearance, but still nice and inviting, and on the floor was a threadbare, but beautiful oriental rug. Chase was sitting in a armchair by the window looking out at the small garden and sports field below. The sunshine was reflected in his over-bright eyes.
"D..don't..t want..t to st..tay," he said quietly. "P...please t..take me with you."
"I can't yet, kid. If it were up to me I would, but I don't want to make the judge mad. We just gotta do what everyone keeps saying and be patient."
"Don't wanna." He winced at how petulant he sounded.
"Hey, think about how I feel," Foreman said with a laugh, sitting on the arm of the chair. "House is going to make my life hell until you get back. I promised I wouldn't be coming back without you and he is sure to use those words against me for as long as possible. He really needs you around. You're the only one who watches TV with him and tolerates his stupid jokes. You always were."
"I..I miss House and A...Allisson."
His intention had been to make Chase laugh or at least smile, but no such luck. "Well, I have to go. You have the phone we bought," The day before he had made a point of buying a pre-paid cell phone with plenty of minutes and all the important numbers programmed in it. "and you know you can call anytime." There was no sense stalling anymore. He put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "I promise I'll be back in one month to take you home."
He leaned down to give Chase a goodbye hug, but he ducked out of reach and across the room. "P..please. Please, d..don't g...go. I won..t..t b...be ba bad."
"Chase, stop." It was no use though, panic had set in and Foreman could do nothing but watch in alarm as he devolved into tears, begging not to be left behind.
"Say goodbye and walk out the door." Mary said firmly.
"I can't, he's..."
"You must my friend. There is nothing you can do here accept make it worse. Ms. Simpson will calm him down and he will understand. Come we must get you to the airport." Marou said.
Foreman nodded and, with a tilt of his head that his friends would recognize as him screwing up his courage, he strode over to Chase gave him a quick fierce hug and said, "I love you, kid. Don't forget." He then fled the room.
He could still hear Chase from the hallway and almost lost his courage and ran back to his side. Marou was there to hold him back.
"I know that this is not easy. He is hurting, but he will be okay. Many people care about him and I know that in the end that will be enough."
***** ***** *****
People like to talk about broken hearts. Songs and books are written about hearts broken and being broken. Poetry flourishes in the romantic idea of mangled hearts beyond repair. But until you actually feel it; the heart actually ripping itself apart in your own chest those words mean nothing. It isn't at all like they say. Your heart can be tearing in two and you can still sit in an airplane seat and smile at the flight attendant and thank him for your warm flat soft drink, you can walk in the garden of a strange new place wishing you had done things differently and still take in the beauty of a purple rose. Your heart can be bleeding separated from those you love, but deep inside there is an ember of hope. The heart is a funny thing. It breaks and it heals and then breaks again ready to start the whole thing over again.
"One month isn't so long." Two men speaking the same words. Foreman to Cameron over the airplane phone, needing to speak to someone who would understand even if it did cost an arm and a leg. Chase to his new friend Mary, clutching his new cell phone tightly in hands that didn't always do what he wanted them to, but certain he would be hearing from his best friend soon and would be able to assure him that they would both be okay.
One month. Not so long, but long enough.
***** ***** *****
A/N: I am sorry to add this far too long author's note, but felt I needed to apologize to those that have been following this story. It kind of went off the rails in this chapter. Between the holidays and a wicked writers block, I found it so difficult to finish this chapter. There seemed to be so much story to get across and with all the new characters to introduce and flesh out it just kept growing and growing. At times it seems to move at a snails pace and then at others moves to fast to make sense. In the end I couldn't make it any better and since my main goal in this whole thing was to make sure this story was completed I needed to just post it and move on. There are just three more chapters and they shouldn't be nearly as long.
I also wanted to add that I chose two famous indigenous Australians to create Noel Marou's name. Please feel free to point out any medical, legal, or Australia facts that I have gotten wrong. I did a little research, but not nearly enough.
As I near the end of this story an idea has struck me that may lead me to revise the current chapters, I think I better finish the darn thing first though.
Thanks again for reading. You are all the best.