Chase stood outside Stan Jameson's house, observing the clean white paint of the picket fence and the bloom of flowers that were flourishing. It was obvious the place was well-loved, but beneath the surface it was clear that Jameson had let things slip of late. Chase took in the peeling white paint and grass that was some weeks overdue for a trim, the weeds that were beginning to emerge amongst the sprays of blossom.
Chase made his way up the pathway, contemplating how he was going to gain entry without drawing unnecessary attention to himself. Whilst the row of houses to the left of Jameson's house were quiet there was a gas station to the right that was crowded with cars and people.
Chase had been intrigued the first time House had sent him out to break into someone's home. Intrigued and, although he wouldn't admit it, quite excited at the prospect. His life had been somewhat devoid of anything that could be considered of even a remotely questionable nature, let alone outright illegal. Whilst breaking and entry wasn't something that had been listed as part of the job description, he had soon realised that working for House entailed more than the usual nine to five hours.
Glancing at the outwardly solid looking door Chase decided that he would perhaps be better put to try the back way in.
The back garden was an amazing sight, like something out of a children's story of days gone by. Neat rows of vegetables occupied half the garden and an apple tree in full blossom rose majestically from the centre of a manicured lawn. In pride of place stood a small brick well, perfectly circular and elegant in its simplicity. Chase smiled to himself, impressed with the extent of Jameson's self-sufficiency.
Rattling the door handle Chase found that is was, not surprisingly, locked. With a surreptitious glance around, he pulled a small pin from his pocket and began to work it into the lock, rotating it in arbitrary movements until eventually he felt the door click open.
With a final look around Chase pushed the door open and entered Stan Jameson's house.
Despite the fact that Jameson's file clearly stated that he lived alone, Chase was still wary of coming face to face with some unknown whilst he was snooping. He cleared his throat quietly, testing to see whether the noise would prompt any emergence of a well-meaning neighbour or long-lost relative. Eliciting none, Chase walked through the kitchen and found himself in the living room. The interior was much like the outside of the house. Despite being bright and airy, it was obvious that things had begun to slip. Empty cups sat amidst piles of newspapers that littered the floor and tv listing magazines dating back weeks were skewed across a coffee table.
Unsure of the layout of the house Chase was hesitant, opening the doors that led off the main room and peering inside for anything that looked remotely promising.
Coming across the bathroom, Chase entered.
A medicine cabinet loomed large on one wall, and pulling it open Chase knew he had hit the jackpot.
Row upon row of pill bottles were ordered neatly, all displaying varying degrees of spurious claims. Rifling through them Chase knew that he had found several new candidates as to the cause of Jameson's illness.
Conscious of the number of bottles he would have to carry back to the hospital, Chase decided to seek out a bag whilst simultaneously searching the rest of the house.
Whilst his search yielded little more by way of suspect substances, Chase found that the time he was spending away from the hospital was doing wonders for his mood. A sense of euphoria had descended upon him and, although his head felt distinctly fuzzy, he cared little about the odd sensation.
Making his way back through to the kitchen Chase stumbled and was forced to grasp hold of the table to steady himself. Chase wondered briefly at the giddiness that had overwhelmed him and breathing deeply he glanced out of the window. Outside the sun shone down on the fairytale garden and a moment later the concern had passed.
Chase glanced at his watch and was surprised by the length of time that had elapsed since he had left the hospital. Deciding that there was nothing else to be discovered in the house he straightened up and with a last fleeting look he pulled the door open and stepped out into the sunshine.
……………………………………….
Chase pushed the door open with more force than he had intended, and it swung wide, slamming loudly.
"Oops." Chase stumbled into the room, his spirits curiously high considering the litany of tedious tasks House no doubt had in store for him.
At the noise Cameron looked up from the files she had spread out over the table. She smiled enquiringly at Chase, similarly puzzled by the inane grin he had plastered on his face.
"What are you so happy about?"
"I uh…" He staggered into the room, swaying lightly on his feet.
Cameron's grin turned to a frown.
"Have you been drinking?"
"What? Noooo." Chase shook his head vigorously, his hair falling into his eyes.
"You are! You're drunk." Cameron stared at Chase in disbelief.
Despite the gravity of the accusations that were being levelled at him Chase felt the uncontrollable urge to laugh.
"I'm not drunk" he said, unable to suppress a lopsided smile.
"Sure you're not"
"No really, I'm not."
"Chase, I can't believe you'd risk your career like this! What if House sees you?"
"What if House sees me what?" Chase couldn't understand why Cameron was looking at him so anxiously. Her brow was creased and her eyes shining with anger.
"How could you be so irresponsible? Your patients trust you and this is how you behave?" Her voice was steadily increasing in volume and her outraged tone began to cut through Chase's head, a sharp pain stabbing behind his eyes in time with every rise and fall of her angry outburst.
Chase pressed his hands heavily to his face and squeezed his eyes shut. Everything was spinning and he was beginning to feel sick.
"Are you even listening to me? Chase?"
"What!" Chase spoke more harshly than he had intended to and found even his own voice aggravating the pain in his head.
Cameron stopped speaking and glared at Chase for a moment before turning her back on him, an expression of hurt on her face.
"Go home Chase, before you kill someone."
Chase remained seated, feeling nauseous and guilty, unsure as to how the day had taken such a turn for the worse. After a minute he stood, pausing for a moment to try and steady himself as the room spun.
"What about House?"
Cameron didn't respond for a moment.
"I'll tell him you're sick."
Chase made his way slowly to the door, each step requiring an inordinate amount of energy. At the door he paused.
"I haven't been drinking Cameron."
Cameron didn't respond.
……………………………………..
A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed – they are very much appreciated. I'd just like to say that all the medical information is accurate, although I have taken one liberty in the time-scale. Literary licence! I hope you enjoyed this chapter – more soon.
Sarah