"Get over here before I kill this kid," were not exactly the words Wilson had hoped to hear when he answered his cell phone at a quarter past eight on a Saturday night, but they were the words that got him to House's apartment in seventeen minutes flat.
He had checked in with House earlier in the morning and House had said everything was fine then. Chase, who would henceforth be known as Joseph Chase Roberts House thanks to Wilson's less than legitimate connections, had been asleep at the time. Wilson had initially planned to help House through his first full day of parenting his child, but instead had been called to the hospital for a case. At least that had given him plenty of opportunity to tell random coworkers that House had become a daddy. Sadly, Ms. Roberts had abandoned the boy, signing away her parental rights to his biological father. By Monday, everyone at the hospital would know House had a child.
Wilson walked into the apartment without even bothering to knock. The living room looked like it had been hit by a hurricane and it was not clear if it had been Hurricane Greg or Hurricane Robert. The coffee table had been shoved against the wall to make room for a twin size air mattress which was inflated on the floor in front of the couch. Sheets decorated with Dragon Tales characters were in a heap on one end of the mattress. There was a soggy, sticky waffle with one small bite missing sitting directly on the end table by the couch. Under the table, leaning against the wall, was the board for a game while various pieces were strewn across the floor along with crayons, toy cars, the pieces of a train track, a headless Batman figure, various items of clothing in both child and adult sizes and a few dozen Fruit Loops. The couch itself was covered with a deck of cards, a blanket, a few stray kernels of popcorn, and several miniature sized candy bar wrappers.
In the kitchen, the sink was piled high with dishes and there were a pizza box and mostly ignored containers from the closest Chinese restaurant. Wilson suspected that House was having a difficult time finding something Chase would agree to eat. As he neared the kitchen, Wilson heard a voice from the bathroom.
"Yes, you will!" House demanded.
Wilson opened the door in time to see Chase, arms crossed over his chest, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall replying, "No!"
House sighed and ran a hand over his face, "You have to."
"No!" Chase shouted back.
"What's going on?" Wilson asked, interrupting their confrontation.
"He won't take a bath," House explained, snapping at Wilson as though it should be obvious to anyone with a brain.
"Let me talk to him," Wilson offered. He was fairly confident that if he could explain the necessity of radiation treatment to a child, he could certainly tackle the need for a bath.
House stepped aside and let Wilson approach the boy.
Wilson observed that the floor really needed to be cleaned if Chase was going to sit on it and the fact that he was sitting on it only added to his need for a bath. "Chase, you know you need to take a bath," he started, his tone quite placating.
Chase shook his head.
"There's chocolate on your face and shirt and your face is all red like you've been sweating and your hair is kind of flat like it's oily and--"
"You stink!" House yelled.
Wilson closed his eyes and shook his head. House was not helping. "And there's that."
"You stink!" Chase replied emphatically.
"I see he inherited your witty retort gene." Wilson said to House. He turned back to Chase. "I went for a jog this morning and got all sweaty, so I had to take a bath when I got home. Everyone has to take a bath when they get sweaty or dirty."
"Then I won't get sweaty or dirty anymore." Chase declared. If he had not been crouched in the corner of the bathroom, Wilson would have thought he actually sounded smug.
"The fact that he gets cause and effect isn't going to work to your advantage," House warned him. "It only makes him more evil."
"He's not evil."
"Did you see my living room?"
"Who bought the chocolate?" Wilson asked, then paused while House refused to answer. "And who gave him the chocolate?" House should have thought ahead, knowing that hyper four-year-olds were messy four-year-olds.
"That is beside the point."
"You know, this would be easier if I only had to debate with one four year old genius."
House frowned. "Be my guest." He leaned against the doorframe while bouncing his cane against the bathroom tile. "I'll just stand here with my mouth shut while you talk some sense into the brat."
Chase scowled.
Wilson exhaled slowly. "Chase, honey, you need to take a bath. If you stay dirty, you'll be covered in germs and they'll make you sick again."
This seemed to resonate with the child. "I don't want to get sick."
"Good. Then let's get you in the tub," Wilson smiled, pleased at the progress he had made.
"No!" Chase exclaimed again.
"So much for that." House was quick to point out the first sign of failure.
"Chase, why do you want to avoid taking a bath?" Wilson asked, remembering that Chase himself liked to ask why questions. Reasons mattered to him.
Chase looked from Wilson to House. "I don't want to."
"Why?" Wilson repeated. "There has to be a reason."
"It'll hurt," Chase admitted in a soft voice, making him seem even smaller than before.
Wilson was surprised by this answer. Baths might not always be fun, but they were not supposed to be painful.
House's stomach felt funny. He knew that baths could hurt, but Chase should not know that. There was something very wrong with that picture. "We'll make sure the water isn't too cold." He quickly added, "Or too hot. And we'll add bubbles and get you a rubber ducky. Would you like that?"
Wilson was shocked, not only at Chase's idea of the bath hurting, but at House's immediate response and suggestions to make a bath more enjoyable.
"I like duckies," Chase said. "But it'll still hurt."
"Why do you think it will hurt?" Wilson asked.
"The water will sting."
"Water doesn't sting," Wilson said. He looked to House to see if he had anything to add. He was aware that Chase had had some strange holes in his memory, but surely he had had a bath recently since he had been sick at the hospital.
House studied the boy. He was sincerely afraid of being hurt by the water. "It might," he said, the light bulb going on in his mind. "If… take off your pants."
Chase shook his head and tried to scoot even closer to the wall.
"Let me see your legs," House demanded
Wilson looked back and forth between the two. "Why do you want to see his legs?"
"I don't want to!" Chase responded, interrupting the men.
"Look, you can either stand up and take off your pants or one of us is going to hold you down while the other does it for you." House sternly added, "I don't think any of us will like that."
Wilson looked positively aghast at the threat.
"Take off your pants. Now!" House ordered. "Or else!" Or else what, he was not sure. He hoped the threat alone would get the results he wanted.
Chase was definitely sulking as he stood up and removed his jeans. They had an elastic waistband, so all he had to do was slip them down. He inhaled shakily as he did so. He obeyed when House ordered him to turn around.
"My god!" Wilson exclaimed. The back of Chase's thighs were covered in blotchy purple bruises and thin cut marks. "Did you spank him?" he asked hotly, infuriated that House had resorted to such measures. Chase had obviously been a little monster today, but this was entirely too severe of a punishment. "How could you?"
"I didn't!" House said, as shocked by the sight as Wilson was. The sight of the child's legs made him ill.
"Then who did?" Wilson asked. "He didn't do it to himself and you're the only one who's been around him since we brought him here last night." They had bought what they thought would be essential supplies for a child--toys, clothing, kid friendly food, and the air mattress--before House brought Chase home from the hospital the night before. House was the only person who had been around Chase since for the last twenty-four hours.
House sat on the toilet to be closer to Chase's level. He took a soft, clean beige towel from the bar where it was hanging and spread it over his lap, mindful that the rough material of his pants might irritate Chase's welts, then pulled the child into his arms. "Who hurt you?" he asked.
Wilson had never thought he would see the day that House would let a child sit on his lap. "Do you remember?" he asked. Despite his initial shock and even House's threat to kill the kid, he could not believe that House had done that.
Chase nodded.
"Tell us," House coaxed. "We want to protect you."
Chase looked back and forth between the two of them. "My Mum."
House caught Wilson's eye as they mulled over the impossibility of the claim. Then again, the four year old he was cradling had been his intensive care specialist a week ago. Who was he to say what was and was not possible? He pulled Chase close to his chest and patted his back. "I'm sorry she hurt you. Can you tell me what happened? How did she hurt you?" he prodded as gently as he could. "When did this happen?"
"Last night," Chase answered the most recent question.
House nodded. Knowing that Chase had been in pain shed some light on why he had been behaving so badly all day long, though House had assumed the new environment, new circumstances, and all the loss Chase had experienced had been enough reasons for him to act out as he had. He had not noticed Chase's legs before because the child was able to dress and undress himself and House wanted to give him some privacy. "How did she hurt you?" he asked.
"She came to see me last night."
"Okay," House said agreeably, trying to keep skepticism out of his voice. He certainly had not heard any kind of disturbance. Of course, he had also taken four vicodin before bed too. He might have cut back to three tonight. "Was she in the living room with you?"
Chase shook his head. "No. She took me home with her."
"Like a dream?" Wilson asked.
Chase nodded.
"And she spanked you at home?" House asked. When Chase nodded in the affirmative again he continued, "Why did she spank you?"
"She thought I broke one of her dolls, but I didn't. I didn't even go in her room and I know I can't touch her dolls."
"She blamed you though," Wilson concluded. "So you got in trouble and she spanked you."
He nodded again.
"What did she spank you with?"
"Her belt," he answered. "The red one."
Use of a woman's belt would explain the thin stripes. "Did she hit you with the metal buckle part?" House asked, wondering about the deeper bruises and thin cuts. When Chase nodded again, House found himself filled with the urge to hunt down the woman and beat her with her own belt to see how she liked it.
"It must've been a very realistic dream," Wilson said, marveling over the very real damage left by the dream. He had heard of people developing bruises after flashbacks of severely traumatizing events, but given the circumstances, he was hesitant to make a judgment call on what might be causing these injuries. The mind was strange and powerful, but it was, perhaps, not the only strange and powerful force at work.
"If I had known, I would have stopped her," House said to Chase. "I won't let anyone hit you again if I can help it."
"You're not going to hit me," Chase stated.
"Never," House promised.
"I know," Chase said. "I broke your bat doll to see."
House shook his head slightly, startled by the child's admission. "You were testing me?" he asked, unable to keep himself from grinning.
Chase only blinked. He looked like a cherub. But it was becoming very clear that he thought like a House.
"So, the train, the games, the raining Fruit Loops… it was all a test?"
"I want to know if you're going to send me away or hit me like she did."
"No, Chase. I am never going to hit you. And I'm not going to send you away. I wouldn't send you away even if I could." While he knew the feeling might not last, House also knew that, at the moment, he would not have trusted anyone else with the bright, lonely little person in his lap. None of the others could possibly understand being tested by a four year old, but he could. He was almost… proud.
"I'm sorry I made such a mess. I'll clean it up."
"Damn straight you will," House laughed. "But first, we have to take care of getting you cleaned up."
"No!" Chase whimpered, starting to squirm away. "Please."
"Give me time to finish," House lightly scolded.
Chase pressed his lips together tightly to make a show of being a good listener. He looked up to House.
"I'll run some warm soapy water into the tub. Then you can stand in the tub and we'll take one of those soft wash cloths, dip it into the water, and Wilson will help you wash up, okay? It might sting a little bit, but you're a big boy and you can handle it. It won't hurt anything like it did last night and it'll feel better after the cuts are cleaned. After your body is all clean, Wilson is going to put some ointment on those cuts so it'll kill the nasty old bacteria so you can get well."
"I want you to help me since you're my new Pa--Daddy."
"I hurt my leg a long time ago and I can't kneel on the floor like Wilson can. It'll be okay. He won't hurt you either."
"I promise," Wilson vowed, crossing his heart. "And after that, we can even wash your hair in the kitchen sink."
"Really?" Chase asked.
"Really," Wilson nodded. "That's how my mom used to wash my hair."
"Won't that get messy?"
"Have you seen the kitchen? A little soap and water splashed about can only help."
"And after that, we'll find something to eat for supper," House added. So far, Chase had turned his nose up at waffles, pizza, and Lo Mein noodles. He had balked at the idea of hamburgers and chicken, certain that both would make him sick. He had thrown cereal into the air like an erupting volcano. The only things he seemed to like were chocolate and popcorn. "Are you hungry? I'm starving."
Chase nodded.
"So, first thing's first: bath time," House stated, leaving no room for argument. "Be good for Wilson. I'm going to go start cleaning up the living room since, I guess, I did help mess it up."
"That's big of you, House," Wilson laughed. "We'll be out in a few minutes."
