Chase awoke the next morning feeling anxious and groggy.
His eyes ached and he felt as though a tight band was wrapped around his skull, constricting his mood and his thoughts.
Memories of the previous day were hazy, obscured beneath a cloud of confusion that felt strangely like a hangover, but Chase knew he had consumed no alcohol.
Chase lay for a while, delaying the moment at which he would have to rise and face the day ahead.
He remembered Cameron's face; the look of disappointment as she had insisted that he leave, doubting his word and outraged at his conduct.
He couldn't think what had happened. He had not been drinking, and yet he knew that he had not been himself.
Pulling himself into a sitting position a wave of dizziness swept through him. Chase squeezed his eyes closed, waiting for the moment pass. When he opened his eyes he found the room had once again settled and he stood and began to prepare for the day.
Despite his best efforts Chase arrived at the hospital late, stumbling into House's office mid-meeting. The group was apparently discussing the case that had thus far produced more questions than answers. A trio of eyes glared in his direction, each with differing degrees of emotion.
House's countenance displayed little more than his usual expression of indifference, whilst
Foreman surveyed Chase with thinly veiled irritation, but it was Cameron's obvious anger and resentment that disturbed him most.
Chase looked away and sidled as quietly as he could into an empty seat, mumbling an apology.
After a moment the discussion continued, apparently where it had left off at his interruption.
Chase however found that the words simply washed over him, his aching head distracting him from all else.
"What did the house turn up?"
Chase looked up, realising that the question was being directed at him.
"What?" Chase said, unsure as to what he was being asked.
"The house."
"Uh, yeah. Nice place. Next to a gas station though, kind of noisy."
"I don't care about the noise! Did you find anything?"
"Oh, uh…" Chase flustered. Had he found anything? He couldn't think straight. The last twenty-four hours felt like a blur.
"Yeah. There were tablets. Vitamins, mineral supplements. That sort of thing. And" Chase turned to Cameron, "You were right about him being a health nut. He's even got his own well in the garden."
"That's fascinating. Where are they?"
Chase looked blankly back at House.
"Where are what?"
House stared at Chase, caught somewhere between bemused irritation and frustrated anger. Frustration finally won out.
"Are you intentionally trying to be an idiot? If not you really should think about taking it up as a career, you're so good at it. Where are the tablets?"
"I uh… I didn't, I mean… I haven't got them." Chase averted his eyes, bracing himself for the caustic onslaught that was no doubt coming his way. Whilst he was accustomed to House's vociferous views on his ineptitude, this was the first time Chase felt that he deserved it.
For once however, it didn't come. House merely glared at Chase for a long moment and then squeezed his eyes shut with a sigh.
"Go back to the house, get the tablets, then go to the lab and test them. I want to know what they are and if they're contaminated with anything. Foreman I want you to repeat the coagulation factors, blood smear, cbc with differential, blood nitrogen and bilirubin. Cameron, you talk to Jameson again. I want to know exactly what he does with his spare time, and - " Cameron made to interject – "I don't want the PG sugar-coated version this time."
Marvelling that he had managed to escape one of House's inimitable dressing-downs, Chase stood, a surge of dizziness clouding his vision for the second time that day. He paused for a moment to allow the room to stop spinning before following Foreman out of the room.
……………………………….
Chase found that gaining entry to the house was easier on his return.
Despite his being there only the day before, he entered cautiously, well aware that his presence was less than legitimate.
The house was silent however, and, after a cursory look around, he found that nothing appeared to have been disturbed.
Closing the door behind him, Chase sighed. A deep sense of despondency had accompanied him since he had awoken and he felt frustrated that he had let House down. Their relationship was already laboured, and Chase was disquieted by House's lack of dismay in his failure. Had his expectations really dropped that low?
Chase rubbed at his forehead wearily. His head still ached and his sinuses throbbed uncomfortably. He knew he wasn't entirely well, and adding to that his low mood he felt that the day could not end soon enough.
Glancing at his watch Chase was startled by how much time had elapsed since he had left the hospital. It did nothing to improve his temper to find that even the simplest task was taking far longer than it should.
Making his way to the bathroom Chase began to cough. A dry hacking cough that burned his chest and scorched his throat. He tried to catch his breath, but couldn't.
He felt for his bottle of water but, pulling it from his jacket, he found it empty.
Chase stumbled through to the kitchen, groping for the tap and gasping for air. Turning on the faucet he dispensed with the need for a cup, instead pushing his face under the running tap and gulping water.
Chase stood up, leaning heavily on the sink as he heaved great lungfuls of air, struggling against the pain in his chest.
Minutes passed, and slowly the pain began to ease. Chase was left drained and trembling, a residual ache lingering in his chest and radiating through to his back.
Swaying slightly where he stood Chase drew long, slow breaths, trying to regain his composure.
After a moment he stood back slowly, releasing his steadying grasp on the worktop.
Chase turned, wanting nothing more than to go home and crawl into bed. Something was wrong, something more than a cold.
Flu, maybe, Chase thought to himself, checking his own forehead for signs of a fever.
Imaging House's likely reaction if he failed to return with the various pills once again however was enough to persuade him that rest could wait until after his shift had finished.
Before leaving the kitchen Chase refilled his bottle with water, taking another mouthful before securing the cap. He made his way to the bathroom, still breathless, still dizzy.
The assorted bottles were laid out exactly as he had left them the day before, a messy disruption from their once ordered neatness.
Chase picked up a small plastic bottle, its blue writing proudly proclaiming a 'patented anti-ageing formula!' He scoffed at the assertion, knowing that the only thing that could prevent ageing was premature death.
Wondering at his own cynicism Chase thought that he had perhaps spent too long around House.
A sudden pulse of pain gripped his stomach, and Chase dropped the bottle, a cluster of tablets scattering noisily across the tiled floor.
His gut was churning, and pain radiated through his body, extending up to his jaw and down through his legs.
Chase bent double, gripping at his stomach. He lurched towards the toilet and vomited, retching again and again as his gut heaved.
For a while he knelt, suspended over the toilet bowl, the acrid taste of bile beginning to burn at the back of his throat. When he was certain that his stomach was empty, Chase sat back onto his heels, squeezing his eyes closed and drawing slow, deliberate breaths.
In through the nose, out through the mouth. He had lost count of the number of times he had spoken the mantra to his patients, but employing it now he was pleased to find that it eased the nausea that still churned in his stomach.
Chase was unsure how long he sat but found that as he tried to move the telltale prickle of pins and needles began to creep up his legs.
Clawing at whatever came to hand, Chase pulled himself up, coming face to face with his own reflection in the bathroom mirror.
He looked drawn, his face pinched and ashen. Chase blinked heavily, allowing his eyes a brief respite from the bright daylight that filtered in through the windows.
Pledging to himself that he would make his excuses after delivering the tablets back to the lab, Chase splashed some cold water onto his face and swilled his mouth of the bitter aftertaste of bile.
Straightening up he clumsily seized the tablet bottles and jammed them into his pockets.
A/N: Thanks again to all who have read and reviewed – I am very grateful for all your comments. I hope this chapter was up to scratch – more tomorrow!
Sarah