The room couldn't have been more silent if everyone there was already deaf and mute themselves. Cameron was already tearing up. Foreman was looking back and forth between Chase and House, like this was a trick they were playing on him and he didn't want to fall for it. Wilson's face was slack with shock and confusion. Except he wasn't looking at Chase; he was watching House. And House didn't look concerned, or ashamed, or even curious. As he looked down on Chase, House was palpably furious.
Chase wasn't looking much happier than House. He hadn't wanted any of them to know until absolutely necessary, and now he'd gone and blurted it out in front of the entire team and Dr. Wilson to boot! Why didn't he just page Dr. Cuddy right now and get it over with? At his best, Chase had long since learned how not be provoked by his boss. But right now the medications made him emotive and vulnerable and House was just enough of a no-good-rat-bastard to take advantage. Chase slouched dejectedly in his wheelchair and stared at his hands folded in his lap. Why couldn't he have kept his damn mouth closed?
"Chase, what…" Cameron stuttered and wrung her hands. "I mean, are you sure? How do you…"
"I don't want to talk about it," Chase said.
"Get over it," House snarled. "Cause you have a lot of explaining to do."
"The only thing you need to know, Dr. House," Chase retorted. "Is that if you try something like this again, I'm going straight to Dr. Cuddy and filing a report against you for harassment and malpractice." The only reason he wasn't wheeling himself up there to do it right now was because the Vogler wildcard put his own job in a precarious position as well. As for House, now it looked like he was the one wanting to take a swing at Chase. "I've just had surgery. I'm tired. I want to go back to my room." He also wanted to be away from his nosy colleagues, so he looked over his shoulder. "Dr. Wilson? Would you mind?"
"Sure, Chase," Wilson nodded. He glared at House defiantly and took hold of the handles and wheeled Chase out the door.
The rest of the team lingered awkwardly. Cameron was watching House like she couldn't decide between comforting him and berating him. Foreman's chin and eyebrow were both raised high in defensive posturing. House's knuckles were white around the handle of his cane. He wanted to go after Chase, demand some answers. But Chase's threat was finally serious enough to make him pause. He might have to wait until Chase was out of recovery and cooled off.
"Damn," Foreman whispered. "I don't know what I was expecting, but this wasn't it."
"How can Chase be going deaf?" Cameron fretted. "I haven't noticed him having any problems, have you? I mean, how could we all miss something like that?"
"He said he's going deaf," House snapped. "As in, is not deaf yet. Relax. You're not going to lose your sensitivity merit badge."
"Guess we know where the ulcer came from," Foreman said. "Finding out your losing one of your senses has got to be bad enough, but then hiding it for four months. No wonder."
"Four months?" House said. "That's oddly specific. Something you want to share with the class?" Foreman shut his eyes for a moment and bit his tongue. He'd hoped Chase's confession would redirect House's irritation away from him, but he'd just guided it right back again. He was about to go on refusing to answer, but House was done with that game. "Foreman!"
"All right," Foreman surrendered. "When I was at Chase's place, I noticed another prescription. Anti-depressants. It was dated four months back, but he's never touched them."
That did it. To hell with Chase's demands, and screw Vogler! House barked out tests for the other two to start running on Carly - practically growled at Foreman – and then stomped out after Chase.
Meanwhile, Chase and Wilson's trip back upstairs was tense. On the one hand, Wilson was exasperated by House's actions and reaction. What was he thinking provoking an ulcer patient this way so soon after surgery, let alone one who wasn't even supposed to be his patient?But, even so, Wilson was House's best friend and, as usual, he felt compelled to defend and interpret for him.
"So," Wilson tried to reopen conversation as they entered the elevator. "I'd offer to swing by the cafeteria, grab us a bite, but I'm pretty sure you're on liquids-only for a couple days."
"I'm not hungry, anyway," Chase said. "But thanks."
"You know, you seem to hear just fine," Wilson said. "I don't think House mentioned having to yell at you any more than usual."
"Yeah, my hearing's okay for now," Chase said. "It's just not going to stay that way."
"How do you know?" Wilson asked. The doors opened and he wheeled Chase out and back toward his room. "Maybe you should get a second opinion."
"Technically, I haven't gotten a first one," Chase mumbled.
"What?" Wilson squeaked. "Then how can you possibly…"
"Dr. Wilson, I'm really tired," Chase pleaded.
"Okay," Wilson turned into Chase's room. "Okay. Here we go. You need help?" Chase waved him off and gingerly climbed into bed. Wilson checked on his stitches and reattached him to all the necessary monitors. Everything seemed to be fine, so at least House hadn't damaged the kid. "You know, you're going to have to talk to him about this sooner or later."
"I'll let him know when it starts to interfere with my job," Chase said. "It's not an issue yet."
"Oh, come on, Chase! You've been here long enough to know better than that." Wilson sighed and fell into the chair beside Chase's bed. "Look, I'm not going to defend his behavior, okay? The only bigger waste of breath would be trying to convince him that he's done anything that needs defending. We both know that."
"Yeah, lousy FIGJAM," Chase said.
"FIGJAM?"
Chase held up his hand and counted off on his fingers as he spoke. "Fuck I'm Good Just Ask Me."
"Oh, that is perfect," Wilson laughed. Chase smiled to. When he'd first started working at PPTH he'd taken to calling his boss 'Dr. FIGJAM' in his head to help keep his temper. "But seriously, Chase, you're not just another puzzle to him. If you were, he wouldn't be so angry! And trust me, he's pissed." Chase cringed; now that his own anger was ebbing, the thought of facing House's was scary again. "And he wouldn't still be riding you either. I mean, you told him what the problem is. Mystery solved!" Not really, since they didn't know why Chase thought he was losing his hearing, but he was making a point here. "He's angry and relentless because he cares."
"I don't think so," Chase disagreed. He knew House didn't like him or respect him. Chase had accepted that and resigned himself to getting everything he could out of this Fellowship before House got bored with him.
"Just talk to him," Wilson pressed. "Get it all out there. All this subterfuge is getting really toxic. And who knows? Maybe we can help."
"I wish he could help me, Wilson," Chase said. "But he can't."
"How do you know?" House demanded from the doorway. Wilson started at his voice, but Chase just groaned and threw an arm over his eyes.
"For the love of God, make it go away," Chase grumbled.
"God can't help you now, Chase," House said. He closed the door behind him and stood menacingly at the foot of the bed. "You've done a very bad thing and you need to be punished so you can repent."
"I haven't done anything wrong," Chase argued. "This isn't affecting my job yet. When it does, I promise I'll tell you before it becomes a problem."
"Why should I believe you?" House scoffed. "You've been lying to me for months. Hell, maybe even since I hired you! Maybe I should just fire your lying ass right now!"
"House, that's enough," Wilson interrupted. "Come on, he needs to rest. We can do this later."
"You stay out of it!" House snapped. Wilson frowned and folded his arms, but he didn't leave. He wasn't leaving Chase alone with House without a referee. House glared down at Chase, who felt horribly exposed in a hospital gown under threadbare sheets. "I'm dead serious, Chase. Either start talking or you're out."
Chase just stared for a moment. This was the man Wilson believed cared about him? He was sick, damn it! He'd just had surgery. House had already harassed him, violated him, practically assaulted him! Now he was threatening to fire him too? And with the new management critical of Diagnostics, that was no idle threat. Chase really didn't want to share this or any other part of his life with House, but he wanted to lose his job even less. This was no longer an issue of whether or not he trusted House, because he really didn't, not personally. This was about survival, professionally.
"It's hereditary," Chase said softly. "Otosclerosis."
House was familiar with it. Basically, excess immature bone tissue built up in the middle ear and prevented vibration from conducting sound to the inner ear. In severe cases, it could even damage the auditory nerves.
"Go on," House ordered unsympathetically.
"My mother had it," Chase explained. "I don't remember when it started, but by the time I was ten her hearing was completely gone."
"Is that when she started drinking?" House asked. Wilson looked like he wanted to slap him.
"Yeah," Chase nodded. "I mean, not right away. She tried to deal with it at first. She and I both learned to Sign." He started using his hands too, to demonstrate. House watched interestedly. "She never got the hang of lip-reading, though, so she'd take me with her to interpret. But after a while, it just got to be too much. She couldn't handle it."
At first, Chase had enjoyed the trips out with his mother. They were a team. But as Chase got older, he wasn't as available. He had other responsibilities. Also, his mother started to resent being so dependent on her son. She became isolated and depressed. That was when the drinking started. In fact, when the drinking got bad she even took Chase to the liquor store with her to help her buy Vodka once. Rowan was livid when he found out. He left a month later.
"Anyway," Chase continued, no longer using his hands. "I always knew there was a chance that it might happen to me too. But it's so much more common in women, you know? And I was really careful, took all the right supplements. I thought…I hoped it would pass me over. But a few months ago, I started experiencing some tinnitus in my left ear. Nothing too bad, just a kind of pulsing feedback sometimes."
"What does your audiologist say?" House asked.
"I haven't been to an audiologist," Chase confessed. "I did contact an old professor of mine. He specialized more in the vestibular system, but I figured it was better than nothing."
"Brilliant," House dead-panned.
"He gave me a list of names," Chase continued. "Told me not to give up, and wrote me a prescription for Lexapro in case the transition got to be too difficult." House scoffed; sounded like another useless boob to him. "Yeah, well. Now I have intermittent tinnitus in both ears. I haven't noticed any significant change in my hearing yet, but…"
"You will," House said. Chase nodded. "Is this what you and your dad were standing off over in the parking lot?" Chase jolted; that had been weeks ago. He didn't even know House heard about it. Wilson groaned and rolled his eyes. Like a dog with a bone, that was House. "Well?"
"He went through it with my mother," Chase shrugged. "He knows the signs. Saw me fiddle with my ears a couple times, the way I made sure I was turned toward people talking to me. He confronted me about it. I got angry."
"Why?" Wilson asked. "He's your dad. I'm sure he was just concerned."
"He wants me to move back to Australia." Chase rolled his eyes and shook his head. His hair was falling into his face, but he didn't brush it back this time. He almost felt safer hidden behind it.
"What?" House exclaimed.
"There's this specialist there," Chase explained. "Dr. Kenneth Noel. He wants me to see him. I told him I wasn't leaving until I had to. He thinks by then it'll be too late, but I've done the research. There's nothing anyone can do for me at this stage. Later on I might be able to consider a Stapedectomy, but that didn't work for my Mum so I'm not counting on it."
"And if you do go completely deaf?" Wilson asked. "What are you going to do then? Can you still practice medicine if you can't hear?"
"I don't know."
It was hard for the other two doctors to take all this in. Chase explained his condition so calmly and matter-of-fact. Well, his probable condition, anyway. House was definitely dragging Chase's ass to an audiologist as soon as he was recovered enough for one to accept him. But still, Chase believed it, and he acted like it was no big deal. As long as it didn't interfere with his job, hey, no problem! It made House even angrier, and he was about to tear into him. Then Chase pulled his thermal blanket higher up on his chest and fidgeted with his IV a bit. It was a small gesture, but big enough to remind House why they were having this conversation in the first place. Chase was in the hospital as a patient, because the stupid kid had given himself a bleeding ulcer. Maybe he hid it well from everyone else, but inside Chase's impending disability was literally tearing him apart. There was something grotesquely symbolic about this whole situation. It may have even appealed to House if it wasn't one of his own.
