Title: Patient

Author: zeppomarx

Characters: House, Wilson, Cuddy, plus the characters created for Priority's Exigencies and zeppomarx's A Gentle Knock at the Door.

Summary: House's minions find a new patient, one who is reluctant to allow House to treat him. Begins three months after the opening scene of A Gentle Knock at the Door. Part of the Contract universe, which includes DIY Sheep's intense and angsty The Contract, and Priority's sequel Exigencies.

Thanks: To priority and houserocket7 for encouraging me to writing this side story to A Gentle Knock on the Door, and for their faithful diligence in copy editing my sloppy prose.

Warnings, etc.: Generally safe, but references to torture, rape and major character death that has happened in the past. Some chapters are pretty angsty.

Disclaimers: You know the drill. Don't own `em, never did, never will. Wish I did.

This Chapter: Despite the fact that his patient had been the cause of yesterday's trauma, House was choosing to continue treating Tritter like any other patient.

Chapter 14: On With the Case

Hearing a door open, Chase looked up to see a pale and wan Greg House roll the wheelchair into his office. Immediately getting up from his seat at the conference table, Chase moved with forced nonchalance into House's office. House looked up, nodding briefly to acknowledge him.

"How's the patient?" he asked.

Chase stumbled. As far as he was concerned, House's condition and emotional wellbeing were considerably more important than those of Michael Tritter.

"Uhhh…," he stuttered.

House, who had insisted coming in despite Wilson's strenuous objections, was determined to avoid discussion of yesterday's catastrophe.

"Well," he began, his tone sarcastic, "that's a good start. Come on, Chase. Either you know or you don't. Get to the point."

Pulling himself together, Chase slipped into professional mode. "The same. He's the same, House."

"Good. That's all I need." House turned toward his computer, dismissing Chase with a curt nod.

Years earlier, Chase might have walked away from this kind of dismissal with hurt feelings, attributing House's abruptness to the prevailing wisdom that House was an ass. But now, after watching his boss fight his way back from the sharp edge of destruction, Chase recognized it for what it was: a desperate attempt to keep the demons at bay and to use his job as the method for doing so. Despite the fact that his patient had been the cause of yesterday's trauma, House was choosing to continue treating Tritter like any other patient. Smiling sadly, Chase strolled back into the conference room.

Devi was waiting expectantly, bubbling over with curiosity. "So? Why is he here? What did he say?"

"Nothing. Just wanted to know how Tritter was doing."

For Devi, who was relatively new to House's behavior, this seemed astounding. "You're kidding, right? I mean, I can't believe he's even here today, after what he's been through."

Chase sat down across the table from her. "I dunno. I guess that's his way of dealing with things."

"But…" Devi struggled to find the words. "…But how can he do this? I was sure… I mean, how can he continue to treat Tritter after yesterday?"

Chase shrugged. "I don't really get it myself, Raja," he said, "but I think he compartmentalizes things in ways I just wouldn't be able to do." Maybe that's how he got through it, Chase thought. Maybe that's how he survived.

Realizing she'd gotten the only answer she was going to get, Devi returned to the journal she was scanning.

After a moment, Chase spoke.

"Hey," he said. Devi looked up. "You saw Tritter this morning, yes?"

She nodded.

"How was he? I don't mean physically. How did he act?"

"He's increasingly angry and paranoid. I don't think he knows House is back. I said something about going over the case with House when he came in, but I'm pretty sure that didn't register."

Drumming his fingers on the tabletop for a moment, Chase suddenly stood up, a sly smile on his face.

"Come on," he said as he headed for the door. "I'd really love to be the one to tell him."

Startled, Devi followed him, secretly delighted. "Chase… Chase, wait!"

Chase kept walking. Devi hurried to catch up as he strode purposefully through the lobby. She reached him just as he punched the Up button on the elevator.

"Should we be doing this?" She was torn between her strong desire to see the look on Tritter's face when Chase told him his case against House was dismissed, and the equally strong desire to avoid creating any more agitation.

Chase shook his head. "I frankly don't care," he said. "I've had it with him. The man needs to know that all he's doing is hurting himself."

Against her better judgment, Devi hopped into the elevator car and rode up with Chase. "I don't know about this. House isn't going to like it."

"What's the worst that could happen?" asked Chase. "The bastard has already tried to have House locked up, which was only going to keep us from finding the answer that much longer. He's clearly more interested in being a vindictive bastard than in being an alive vindictive bastard. He should have to deal with the consequences of his actions."

In his room, Tritter woke up groggy and disoriented. As he propped himself up in bed, the door slid open, and he was startled to see Drs. Chase and Rajghatta march into his room. Chase walked over to the side of the bed, and unlike Devi earlier, looked Tritter right in the eye. Tritter couldn't figure out why, but the blond doctor looked angry. He ought to look grateful—grateful to Tritter for removing that dangerous influence.

"You are so fucking lucky that House is in charge of your case and not me," began Chase with no prelude. "Despite your little stunt yesterday, he's here doing his damndest to solve your problem. If it had been up to me, I'd have kicked your fat ass to the curb."

"W-what…?" asked Tritter, genuinely confused. "What are you talking about? House is in jail, where he belongs. You should be pleased to be away from that madman."

Chase snorted, looking down at Tritter disdainfully. "Is that what you think? You think the greatest diagnostician in the country — maybe in the world — would be better off in jail than here rescuing your sorry butt? Well, guess what? Your case was dismissed. The judge thought it was ridiculous. As for me… you think I should sing hosannas to be away from the man who not only shows me every day what it means to be a hero but also saved my life? God, you're pathetic."

Stunned, Tritter stared unbelieving at Chase. "Holy crap," he said, finally. "You really grew a pair, didn't you? And just so you could defend him? Is that all you've learned from him in eight years—how to be rude to patients? You're the one who's pathetic. The man is a menace."

This was too much for Devi, who had stood by silently as Chase had ranted at Tritter. Maybe something about her dream from the day before gave her the courage to talk back to the vengeful cop.

"You really don't get it, do you Mr. Tritter? Dr. House has been through enough without your bullshit on top of it. The only reason we're still working on your case is because he insisted on it—he's determined to find the answer to what's making you sick. If you feel he's a menace, go elsewhere. Personally, I'll be glad to see the last of you. Good riddance. I'll take 1,000 Gregory Houses over one Michael Tritter any day of the week."

Tritter's mind raced. He had to regain control of this situation; he couldn't leave his health in the hands of these idiots. Obviously, House had found some way to evade the system again and to con his staff. But he can't hoodwink me, thought Tritter. Once an addict, always an addict. I've got to find a way to force his hand—to make sure that he quits stalling around and treats me fairly. With that comforting thought, Tritter calmed down, reminding himself that quiet menace was always more effective than screaming and yelling. When he spoke again, it was very softly and with purpose.

"Don't think you can fool me," he whispered, looking Chase in the eye. "I know what's really going on here, and I will not allow it. Do you hear me? I'm going to make sure that son-of-a-bitch treats me fairly, if it kills me."

* * * *

For House, the day went slowly. He'd slept late, come in late, and was having trouble concentrating once he got in. Not real. Not real. Not real became his mantra, repeated every few minutes, as he fought off the shakes, staving off the fear that tumbled down on him at regular intervals. Not real, he said to himself. Not real not real not real not real not real.

He was so involved with avoiding his own fears that he never heard Chase and Devi enter the room next door as they came back from Tritter's room. But after a moment, their voices filtered through his haze.

"What'd I tell you?" he heard Chase say.

In the other room, Devi didn't know what to say. Maybe she'd been so determined to treat Tritter like any other patient, she'd overlooked the danger signs Chase and Foreman had warned her about. "Yes," she said. "I get it now. He's… yes. Everything you said."

"Could that have been any scarier?" asked Chase, still processing their encounter. "The way he dropped his voice to sound more menacing?"

"Creepy, if you ask me."

In the other room, House fought with himself. Damn Tritter anyway—always was an idiot. He's going to force this, force me to question everything I do, just so he can feel I'm out to get him. House smiled grimly to himself. Yeah, like I'm out to get him.

"Very creepy," agreed Chase, grimacing as he took a swig of now now-stale coffee before he headed off to a rotation in the ER. The man is insane. He'd rather die than admit he was wrong about House. He glanced through the open doorway, catching a glimpse of House shivering at his desk. Well, at least Tritter can't do anything more, he thought. He's done his worst.