Chapter 12 - Robert Chase

He hadn't thought of seeing his boss lying in a hospital bed again anytime soon. He had hoped it wouldn't happen again. And now they were here.

Except for House and him, the room was empty. He hadn't opened his eyes since arriving less than an hour ago. Chase stood at the foot of his bed and read his boss's file, always looking up, shyly expecting that he would wake up and look at him.

House and Wilson got to the ambulance from their appointment with Dr. Nolan, well sooner than any of the team members expected. Judging by Wilson's stammering words, he had suddenly passed out shortly after they started the session. So far, no one knew the reason for House's sudden loss of consciousness. But they all had a hunch that nobody dared to express.

A low noise caught Chase's attention, his head jerked up and his gaze fixed on House, who tilted his head from side to side and whose eyelids began to flutter very slightly shortly afterwards. The minutes passed in complete silence until House finally opened his eyes and looked at Chase.

The blonde immediately hurried to the side of his bed, took out the little flashlight and shone through the eyes of the person opposite. House tilted his head further in one direction as if to withdraw from the light, grumbling incomprehensibly.

"Can you hear me? Do you know who you are?" Chase wanted to know from him, but got no answer, just another, unsatisfied-sounding hum.

"Can you hear me?" he asked again, louder this time. Now House raised his hand, grabbed Chase's wrist, and pushed it aside.

"Yes, man, and now take that thing out of my face," he growled audibly in a bad mood. Chase was relieved, turned off the light and slipped it into the pocket of his smock. He straightened up a little more relaxed and took a step back from his patient's bed. He watched attentively as House reached for the bed remote control and lifted the headboard at the push of a button until he was sitting reasonably upright.

"My skull is booming," he complained, carefully rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand.

"No wonder, according to Wilson, you hit your head by falling off a chair. You're lucky nothing worse happened." From the looks of it, House would only be reminded of the incident by a large bump on his forehead. Given his previous history, it was quite possible that the bleeding would have recurred in his brain. He was really lucky.

House looked at him confused for a moment, but a few seconds later he seemed to remember what had happened. Obviously not enthusiastic, he made a grimace before he sank deeper into the pillow. For a few heartbeats, silence dominated the room. Chase was about to start to find out why his boss suddenly passed out, but he got ahead of him.

"Can I ask you something?"

Chase was amazed at the sudden uncertainty in his boss's voice and the look he gave him. His blue eyes shimmered almost traumatized when he looked at him.

Chase nodded, pulled a chair to the side of the bed, and sat down. He looked at House, attentive and as friendly as possible, and waited silently.

"Talking to Nolan... that's when I remembered my withdrawal," House said hesitantly and averted his eyes, staring at the wall across from him. "But I can't remember what I was addicted to."

It was weird to hear House say words like that. It was even weirder how distressed and frightened he looked. Almost like a child who was confronted with a situation that it did not know how to assess.

Chase pondered what to answer, while House just looked at him questioningly, looking for answers. The blonde knew that Wilson hadn't dared mention the Vicodin before. He hadn't lied to House, he had just kept it from him, but if Chase didn't mention it now then he was undoubtedly guilty of a lie. And he didn't want that.

"Because of the injury to your leg, you were dependent on the pain medication Vicodin," he explained carefully, each word carefully chosen. A reaction could only be read very vaguely in House's expression. Various emotions were playing in the doctor's blue seers at that moment, fighting against each other for supremacy.

"Wilson said I could handle the pain through my job," he replied quietly, thoughtfully. There was a shy accusation in his voice that prompted Chase to intervene immediately.

"Wilson meant well. He was afraid you would keep taking the medication." His mind raced, searching for cunning words.

"What if the medication eased my pain?" said House, this time his voice was sharp. Chase got a shock, that shouldn't be. Maybe it hadn't been entirely fair that Wilson hadn't mentioned the drugs, but House couldn't blame him for that. He had kept it a secret in his own mind to protect him.

"Vicodin is not a light pain reliever," replied the Australian as expertly and professionally as he could at that moment. "You made the decision to withdraw yourself after you had hallucinations for days, which were most likely caused by your high consumption." He took a deep breath before continuing. "You often used the drugs to numb your emotional pain as well, so you took way too much. Two years after your withdrawal you relapsed." Another short pause. "The drugs have been damaging your organs for years. Wilson wanted to protect you from this by hiding the Vicodin from you. It was for your best. "

Tense, Chase watched the arguing emotions on his boss's face and was relieved to see that his facial expressions relaxed a little soon afterwards. It was hard to believe, House was actually showing understanding.

"I see," Chase heard the rough voice say. Relief flooded his body and made him relax. He opened his mouth to say a few more encouraging words, but that didn't happen when the sliding door behind him opened noisily. Shortly afterwards Taub stuck his head through the door and looked at the two doctors.

"Foreman wants to speak to you," he informed Chase dryly. The blonde sighed and turned to House apologetically. He waved it off.

"Go ahead," he replied, grabbed the bed's remote control again and lowered the headboard a little. Chase nodded to him. It might not be a bad idea if he got some time to rest. Wilson had decided to keep him there overnight at least for observation.

So Chase left the room and headed straight for the elevator to comply with Foreman's request. What did the new head of administration want?

When he arrived at Foreman's office, the former colleague was already waiting for him and immediately handed him a thin patient file.

"Just got in," he mumbled casually, while Chase took the blue envelope, but didn't look inside, instead he looked blankly at his superior.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Chase asked, his voice doubtful and also a little indignant. Weren't there enough issues right now for the team to grapple with? Did Foreman have to give them a new case too?

"No." Foreman's reply was dry, but was accompanied by a heavy sigh as he leaned back in his chair and looked at Chase, visibly dissatisfied. "But we have to take on new cases again. The department costs the hospital too much money if no one accepts new patients. "

Chase wrinkled his nose in annoyance. The fact that they didn't admit patients was not because they were lazy. But he refrained from making a snappy remark. There was no point in starting an argument with Foreman. He would just try to fit a patient's diagnostics in addition to his efforts for House.

"I'll see what I can do," the Australian muttered and turned to leave.

"Thanks," Foreman replied, letting him go.