-Ch 8-

House leaned against the foot of Chase's bed in the recovery room, rubbing his aching leg. He would have much rather been sitting down, but the only chair in the room, a hideous pink pleather recliner was currently wedged up against the door, keeping the doctors and nurses from getting into the room. He could have, of course, sat in the chair while it kept the doctors out, but it was way over by the door, while House had made sure Chase was as far from the door as humanly possible. So House merely leaned against the bed, scowling down at his young employee.

Exploratory Surgery. How the hell had a simple physical turned into exploratory surgery? Fortunately, they had just started, and had only cut an incision in to his side. House had to snicker at that sick definition of fortune, but it could have been worse. The young intensivist was still unconscious, recovering from the effects of the anesthesia and Antivan. Morphine had been added to the growing list of drugs currently in Chase's system, but House supposed he wouldn't mind so much once he found out about the hole in his side.

He scowled again and dug out his phone, dialing Cuddy's office.

"Cuddy?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Get Wilson and the other ducklings in your office and set up a conference call with my cell phone." He hung up on her, and set his own phone to conference before setting it on the bedside table.

He tucked the covers more tightly around Chase's legs as he waited for Cuddy to call him back.

The phone rung, and before House had barely had time to push the talk button he was being questioned by his boss.

"Okay House, We're all here. Now will you tell us why we're all here, instead of doing our jobs?"

"I didn't say "Simon says: assemble the troops." Sorry, BUZZZ, but thank you for playing."

"House!"

"Spoilsport. "

"House," Cuddy sounded exasperated. "We don't have time for games."

"Not even pin the malpractice suit on Princeton General Hospital? Aww, I was looking forward to that."

"House," It was Wilson's turn to sound frustrated, though somewhat amused. "What are you talking about?"

"They mixed up the files. Evidently some Raymond Hernandez got Chase's physical, and Chase got his surgery. They had him doped to the gills, and were gutting him like a fish."

House winced at the unintentional pun. "They were doing exploratory surgery." He explained simply.

He silently counted off on his fingers in the silence till there was a deafening shout of "WHAT!"

House looked up as Chase flinched away from the noise, but didn't wake up.

"He's fine by the way. We're in recovery and he should be waking up any time now."

"House what the hell is going on! What is Chase doing in the hospital!" That was Foreman, sounding angry and concerned at the same time.

"He was supposed to have his physical but he he uh…"

House decided to gloss a bit. "He decided he'd rather have it done here. He didn't really like the idea of being a patient in his own hospital."

He heard Wilson snort and glared at the small phone. He continued, hoping the others would ignore his friend.

"Either that, or he found out they were drawing straws on who got to see him naked."

--

Cuddy leaned over the phone looking both angry and nauseated at the same time. "I assume you've become his primary doctor?"

"Damn straight."

"Do you feel comfortable keeping him there, considering – considering what happened? He might not like the idea of being a patient here, but it sounds a hell of a lot better than staying there. "

Foreman looked sick but shook his head focusing. "We should have him transferred back here right away before anything else can go wrong."

"Foreman's right." Cuddy agreed. "We can have an ambulance sent as soon as you think it's safe to transfer him."

It was House's turn to snort. "Somehow I don't think that's going to work. I don't even know how I'm going to convince him to not make a break for it before his meds wear off."

"House, he just had surgery. I don't think he cares who sees him naked at this point. Just get him here as soon as possible."

Wilson flinched and rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh that might be a problem. Chase has...uh issues." He tried to explain, since House clearly wasn't going to.

"Issues? What kind of issues?" Cameron asked. Her eyes were wide and watery.

"Whatever it is, it can't be as important as getting Chase somewhere safe." Foreman insisted.

Wilson sighed.

"Tell them." House ordered through the phone.

Wilson sighed again. "Chase uh. Well he was traumatized as a child. He has a hospital phobia."

"A doctor has a phobia of hospitals?" Cuddy asked incredulously.

"It's not the hospitals them selves. It's being a patent."

Foreman started to argue again but Cuddy stopped him with a raised hand.

"Enough. Whatever issues Chase has, and now suddenly that scene in the ER makes a hell of a lot more sense, if Chase just had surgery he needs to be in the hospital for at least a little while, and I want him here. I'll send a ambulance over to pick you two up and bring you back."

---

House rolled his eyes. His boss never listened. His attention was suddenly diverted as the heart rate monitor sped up. It sounded like his little duckling had decided naptime was over.

House abandoned the phone and leaned closer as Chase began to stir.

Suddenly the alarms on the monitors started blaring and Chase's eyes popped open, wide in panic.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Calm down! You're fine! You're fine!" House snapped, leaning over Chase, pushing him back down on the bed.

House ignored the panicked questions coming from the phone, keeping his attention focused on the young man.

Chase's breath was hitching, and he started to gasp, trying to escape the force pinning him down.

"Chase! Stop! Breathe! Come on, you have to breathe, calm down. It's okay, it's okay. Just breathe." House tried to keep his own voice calm, and slowly Chase stopped struggling, drawing in shallow breaths. "That's it. That's good. Nice and slow. You're fine."

"Antivan" Chase whispered, reaching for the IV line. House grabbed the hand. "gave me…" the blond tried to explain haltingly "antivan. Told 'em not to"

"dammit." House muttered to himself. "It's okay," He reassured Chase. "It's okay. You're fine. I'll make sure they don't give you anything else. Now just calm down, you're going to rip your stitches, and you're setting off the alarms. You don't want to scare the nurses do you?"

House's attempt at comfort didn't have the affect he had intended. The machines began to blare again at the mention of stitches. Chase, who had been trying to get away only moment's before, now had House's arm in a death grip.

"stitches. They were going to- I heard them-" He couldn't form a complete sentence through the haze of morphine and terror.

"Going to, operate." Chase's chest started to heave again, and as if on cue the recliner screeched loudly as the door was pushed open and the room began to fill with hospital personnel.

"House!" The young intensivist cried out, rocketing up, and promptly collapsing against his boss as the fresh wound protested the treatment. "Don't," he pleaded. "Don't, House, please, don't let them." Chase began repeating the same words, asking for House's protection as he tried to move closer. He was trembling so hard House could feel the bed shake.

House grabbed him, pulling him closer in spite of his training and the fresh blood beginning to stain the white sheets.

"Get out of here! All of you! You're only making it worse."

The doctors and nurses hovered uncertainly, as if unable to cross some imaginary line to get to their patient's side.

"Get the hell out of here! As his doctor I am ordering you. Get. The. Fuck. Out."

Amazingly they obeyed and he turned back to the scared young man. "They're leaving. See? It's okay. They're gone. They won't get you. It's okay, I promise it's okay." He kept up the litany, tucking Chase's head under his chin. "Shh. It's all right now. Calm down okay, we're going to be just fine."

--

"You're okay Chase. I won't let them do anything. Trust me Chase, you're okay."

The conference room was quiet, House's reassurances sounding loud in the large room, even over the small speakers, and the fact that the words weren't meant for the people staring at the phone.

Cameron's hand was clenched on to Wilson's arm and her knuckles were white, and Wilson and Foreman both looked like they were on the verge of being sick.

Cuddy swallowed thickly.

"I'll go alert the transport team." She said quietly, reaching over and disconnecting the call.