A House Fan-Fic
entercreativename
author's note: I am not the creator or owner of the characters mentioned in this story. I am instead a poor college student with no money or no hope of money. I wrote this story as a means of exploring the characters in the show, not for profit, notoriety, or other self-assuring means.
Chapter 18 - Of Alarm Clocks
Tick, tick, tick, tick…. House once again lay in bed late at night, listening to the endless ticking of his alarm clock, trying to sleep. He turned and moaned in his attempt at sleep when he finally gave in to being awake for the rest of the night. 4:32 am, and he went to bed at 12:30; what happened to the hours between one and three? He rationalized the thought for a moment and realized that at least he was able to get some sleep.
As much as he was willing to admit he disliked work, he was unwilling to admit that the statement fit within the realm of his prime belief: everybody lies. Nights like this he realized how much he needed a case to function normally. Last night, before he and his team specifically knew what happened to Chase, he slept like he hadn't slept in awhile. His brain was active. But tonight, without a new case and Chase officially recovering in the hospital, waiting to be able to go home in a few hours, he realized how much he needed to remain mentally active. If he couldn't really compete in sports anymore due to his leg, and without an active relationship, his mind had to fill in the lack of activity in his life.
He willed himself and his leg, as it had seem to become more of a separate entity in the last few years, up from what little sleep remained to fog his brain. He was tired, and he needed something to do. He walked into the living room - noticing his neighbors were awake and thus would not, should not, complain if he played piano. He sat down at the bench and put his hands to the keys feeling the smoothness of the ivory beneath. He knew it wasn't really ivory, but plastic made to look and feel the same. As he played a few notes, he began to realize how long it had been since he had last played; he could feel the dust that had gathered on the keys now sticking to his fingers. As much as he hated to clean, the feeling of the dust kept him from really enjoying the moment of self-satisfaction. At times this was better than sex.
Chase has survived, thanks to you.
House stopped and shook himself back to reality when that though had hit his mind like a train on a collision course with death. Had he really resolved his issues with Chase? He knew he had always respected the young man, but knew that now he had told him so, their professional relationship would change. Of course, he realized it would change anyway as having your boss save your life would often do that. Did Chase really pull through just because of him? No, probably not, but his subconscious would take the credit anyway.
He now knows what you really think.
At this point, House plunged his hand into his pocket and took two Vicodin. He did not need to be reminded that one of his team now knew what he actually thought of them. It was bad enough that Wilson knew. But now, he showed his vulnerability to everyone and that was something he was not ready to admit to anyone, let alone himself. He put his hands back on the keys of the piano, trying to coax the sound from the silent keys. Nothing came.
Frustrated with his inability to sleep and his inability to occupy his mind, House gave up. He closed the lid to the piano and decided to get ready for work.
House looked at his watch as he walked into the deserted office suite: 6:24 am. Why was he this early? Reassessing the situation, the rational part of his mind (left still functional despite the Vicodin) answered: You have work to do.
He closed his eyes as he walked further, thankful for the fact that no one was there yet, thankful for the fact that he did not yet need to address the change in dynamics of the relationships he would face in little more than an hour, and now pondering how to roll back time to what his relationship with Chase and his underlings had been. Admitting to the intensivist what he really thought had been a mistake in his mind, but a mistake he needed to make to become a better man.
He sat down to think, Gameboy in hand.
What seemed like minutes later, but in fact was a couple of hours, House was startled by a knock on the door. "Didn't think you'd be here, but I guess you are." Wilson. "Let me guess, you couldn't sleep?"
House responded with a knowing glance directed at his friend's eyes.
"Well, if you're up to it, you have a visitor."
House looked up at Wilson again, "Who?"
"Chase."
"Didn't know he was up and about yet."
"The nurses told me Cuddy cleared him for release today, if he hasn't be let out yet." Wilson moved further towards House. "I know what you told him..."
House grunted. Great, days of avoiding him and everyone still knows.
"…and I think you're a better man for doing so." Wilson smiled at House and left a pause for his friend to answer.
House took his cane and stood up, "We both know the flaw in that."
"Want to go out tonight?"
"Sure, but you need to ditch that Volvo - girls just don't like that sorta thing."
"Fine, you pick me up with the 'vette. Six."
"Julie?"
"Kinda."
As House was about to show Wilson out, another knock greeted him from the door, this time accompanied by a pair of Australian accents.
"Is it a bad time?" Chase asked from the wheelchair pushed by Sanford.
"He's all yours." Wilson motioned the young intensivist in as he and Sanford left the two men alone, the younger one thanking him.
House looked down at Chase, wanting to ask, but thinking instead, Why are you here? He was used to getting thanked by patients once they were finally cleared of the final diagnosis and allowed to heal with his underlings watching over them. However, for the first time in his life, he didn't know if he could get used to having someone under his tutelage thank him for doing his job.
"I don't know what to say to you." House said to Chase.
"I figured you wouldn't, and that's okay." Chase always believed that some things couldn't be expressed in words. "I know that you're expecting me to thank you, and I am."
House breathed heavily, his discomfort weighing.
"I am humble at what you have done for me, and I know that it was in fact, 'just your job,' however, I do need to thank you. Not just for saving me this week, but for allowing me to see my father back in Sydney, and for the job here in the States. You are a much better person than you allow yourself to think."
House, now humbled, just stared back Chase in embarrassment.
"I want you to have this as a token of goodwill, and I want you to know that I do not expect you to treat me any different."
"I won't." House said as he took the small gift from Chase's hands. It was small, and he hadn't noticed it before in Chase's lap in the wheelchair. He restrained himself as he opened it so as not to let Chase know how grateful he really was for the gift.
As House cleared the final wrappings off the box, he saw what it was: a brand new digital alarm clock. He looked at Chase.
"It's not secret around the hospital, and especially from Wilson, that you cannot sleep. Hopefully, a quieter alarm clock will help."
House looked back at the gift in his hands, the frown permanently ingrained on his face changing slightly. He was humbled. Chase started to wheel out of the office, anticipating a restful week at Sanford's apartment when House, regaining his composure, stopped him. "You know, you can't keep all of this from us."
Chase stopped and wheeled around. "All of what?"
"This." House motioned towards the wheelchair. "You need to tell us some things about yourself, you need to tell us part of who you really are."
"Easier for you to say than to do, huh Dr. House? You've pretended not to care ever since you met me…"
"That's not true and you know it."
"Prove it."
"I hired you."
"You haven't cared beyond that point."
"I have."
"Then why do you act this way?"
House stopped for a moment to consider the young man's point. "What, you haven't heard of 'tough love?'"
Chase swallowed hard, a lump rising in his throat. He knew House was right at some levels, and yet he knew House was also unwilling to really admit the truth to the people he truly cared for. As Sanford and a nurse came to wheel Chase out to her car, he motioned for her to stop for the moment. "Dr. House, everybody lies."
House was left to the silence of his office; Cameron and Foreman were down in the clinic, filling in hours for House's absence. He surprised himself sometimes: he was still able to feel for other people. He sighed again and sat back down at his desk, the new alarm clock in his hand. He looked closer at the back and saw an engraving, "To Dr. House, the only parental figure in my life who seems to care. Thank you. Robert Chase."