Eheheheheh . . . I'm supposed to be working on the next chapter of Betrayal . . . but this idea refuses to die! It's just a one shot though, so once it's done I'm back on Betrayal "like stink on cheese." (Hmm . . . that's from Sports Medicine, I think.) Besides, I wanna prove to the couple of people who put me on author alert that I'm worth it. (If any of you are reading this, thanks much! Yous guys rock:) I'm not sure what kind of music Foreman might listen to, but he seems kinda like a Ray Charles(which I don't own either.) kinda guy to me. Soulful and deep. No matter how hard I try, I just can't see him listening to rap. So anyway . . .They showed Control on USA(which guess what? I don't own that either) last night which means they're starting the whole Vogler arc again. Joy.
Disclaimer: Once upon a time there was a little girl who liked writing stories about stuff that wasn't hers. However, the little girl said it was hers and lots of big, powerful men came and sued her for everything she was worth. (Which was thirty-seven cents and a really lame music collection.) And she never wrote again. The end.
Now, onward march! (I can't believe I just used onward march . . . Publicly . . . )
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Foreman cautiously looked over his shoulder, constantly aware of the people unhurriedly strolling through the parking lot. Great. Place is busy today. He really didn't mind, however. Not anymore he corrected himself. When he was in his early teens, this place had filled him with an indescribable dread. He had forced himself daily to come, knowing it was something he had to, and yet had prayed for some outside force to intervene. The thought that he was helping himself "be a better person" still hadn't made him loathe this place any less when he was younger.
He carefully maneuvered his car into an empty parking place. After pocketing his key and throwing his bag over his shoulder, Foreman resolutely slammed his car and strode toward the building. You're a different person now he thought determinedly. You are just as good as they are. Bringing up childhood memories had given him a small sense of apprehension. He realized that somewhere, deep down, he still hated this place as much as ever.
The gym.
What he had told Jess, the heavy girl with Cushing's disease, was a white lie. Foreman had been heavy in his teenage years, but it hadn't magically disappeared with a couple of inches. He had gone to the gym every day after school for weeks, finally sick of all the teasing and tormenting. It had been worth it in the end, but the memory of all the sweat and gasping still haunted him.
After changing into a pair of sweats Foreman stepped out into the main lobby. He considered what he should do first. Weights? Nah. Weights were for guys who wanted big muscles. Foreman just wanted a good workout. Stair-climbers? Too slow. Bicycles? Those were good-until Foreman realized there was a bunch of sweaty, smelly middle-aged women in the middle of a cycling class. He looked around the gym until his eyes rested on a row of treadmills. Just right.
He walked over to the last one in the row. It really was busy today. Every other treadmill was full. Foreman nodded briefly to the woman on his left before stepping onto the belt and slipping a pair of headphones over his ears. He quickly lapsed into the rhythm of running and Ray Charles's soothing melodies. That was one thing he did like about the gym: the peacefulness. No one was going to bother him here. Foreman was so focused that he didn't notice the woman next to him stop and get off. What Foreman did notice, however, was the insistent poking on his arm a few minutes later. He cut the machine and prepared to tell whoever was bothering him that this was his treadmill and he wasn't getting off until he was done.
"Look, I just got on here and those other guys have been on for a while. Go ask one of them . . . " Foreman trailed off as he got a better look at the person to whom he was speaking. It wasn't the bright blond hair or the ugly navy shirt and baggy green gym shorts(The man couldn't even manage to dress himself decently in gym clothes! How hard was that?) that Foreman noticed first. What got his attention was the smile. The same stupid, arrogant, self-satisfied smirk that Foreman was forced to work with daily. The smile that only one person could make so irritating: Chase.
"Umm . . . hey Chase."
The smirk got bigger. What in the heck was he smiling about? "Hey Foreman. What's up?"
Since when did Australians say what's up? "Umm . . . nothing much. Just runnin'. You?"
"Same here. Haven't had a chance to drop by in a while."
Foreman nodded. Diagnostics had just finished a particularly difficult case during which House had cut them no slack. Chase had to stay nights as the patient was inclined to into cardiac arrest. Foreman thought that was fair. Chase was rarely any help in the differentials; he had to pull some extra weight somewhere. (1) Chase was the intensevist, too. Keeping the patients alive long enough for the others to figure out what was wrong with them was Chase's job.
Foreman watched hesitantly as Chase turned and started the treadmill next to him. The stupid smirk Chase still wore made Foreman realize he wasn't going to get rid of the Aussie too easily. So much for peace and quiet. Maybe if he didn't say anything Chase would get the hint.
"So . . .tough case, huh?" Well, he couldn't ignore him now. Maybe if he didn't say too much . . .
"Yeah."
"So, is this where you usually come?" Foreman willed himself to be patient. They were in front of complete strangers. If he blew up at Chase in front of hospital staff . . .well, he worked for House didn't he? Employees of the Diagnostic Department had sort of a right to be rude.
That rule didn't apply to normal society, unfortunately.
"Yeah, I like it. It's small. Nice and quiet."
"Uh-huh." Perfect. Chase finally shuts up, and he ends with a comment like that. It wasn't an "Uh-huh" that agreed with him; it was an "I think what you said is bull, but I'm not going to tell you why uh-huh." Now he was going to be forced to talk to Chase if was going find out why the uh-huh. He had a good idea what is was about though(which is what he figured the smile was about as well.) -the comment to Jess he had been thinking about earlier. The one Chase had called him on.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing."
"Yes, it did."
"You're gonna get mad."
Stupid little . . .Chase was doing this to torment him. He had been working under House way, way too long. Would Foreman get this way if he stuck around as long as Chase had?
"Try me."
"Well," Chase paused to gesture at the people around him. Quite a feat actually, considering he was running and staring at Foreman at the same time. "This isn't exactly small. Or quiet."
"Riight. You only think that 'cause you spend all your time in the ICU. To normal people, as in not modern cave-dwellers, this is small." It wasn't the most brilliant thing to say, but Foreman had at least managed to avoid the inevitable.
"Whatever."
Foreman wasn't sure, but he could swear Chase looked upset. What he couldn't figure out was why, because Chase received much worse than that from House on a daily basis. Whatever it was it had shut the Aussie up. Maybe it was the comment about the ICU being a cave? Part of Foreman felt bad, but most of him was just glad to have quiet again.
Twenty minutes later Foreman was ready to call it quits. He wasn't really that tired, but stupid Chase, who was still looking like a kicked puppy, had made him lose his drive. What had made Chase so upset? Foreman was way past thinking it was the ICU thing. There was no way that could bother someone so long. Which meant he had two choices. An ultimatum. Ask Chase what was wrong or go on not knowing. Foreman debated in his head. There were few things he liked less than being with left with a puzzle. (Which was one of the few things he had in common with House.) It was probably something minuscule anyway, but if it was something big and deep, which Foreman doubted, Chase wasn't likely to tell him. So that meant Foreman was wide open. He turned to Chase and gestured for him to stop for a minute.
"Hey, I'm getting off now."
"Fine."
Wow. There was some irony. Chase was being the vague one now, and Foreman was the one asking questions. Foreman thought a minute on how to ask the next one.
"Hey man, what's wrong with you?"
Chase froze, an unreadable expression in his eyes. "Nothing, why?"
"You were all hyper coming in here, then don't say anything to me for over twenty minutes. You're obviously sulking about something. I'm just trying to figure out what."
"Why?"
"I'm curious. Trying to figure out if it was something I said. Though I didn't really think you'd get that upset if I insulted your precious ICU."
"Don't you ever get insulted if someone makes fun of the neurology wing?" Chase was being evasive, trying to change the subject, and Foreman knew it. He was beginning to think maybe it was something big and deep, and yet he was even more curious.
"I don't think anyone is going to that mad about something like that." Foreman paused for a second. "Well, Cuddy might, but the hospital is sort of her life."
"Then maybe Cuddy and I have something in common."
Foreman sighed. He was going to have to do this the hard way. "Bull."
"Excuse me?"
"That's bull Chase. House gives you worse crap than that all the time and you barely flinch. Whatever the heck is wrong with you is nothing I did."
"Than why is it bothering you if you're not guilty?" With that Chase stepped off the treadmill and headed off to the changing area.
Foreman stared at him for a minute. Why was it bothering him? Chase had admitted it was nothing he had done, so now he had no idea what was bothering the Aussie. That was why it was bothering him-he had no idea.
Foreman didn't really know Chase all that well. They had a few casual dinners with Cameron before, but ever since Rowan Chase's visit and Vogler Chase had been distant and unnaturally quiet. This was the first time they had seen each other out of the hospital in months, although Foreman and Cameron still had the friendly dinners and the occasional movie. (2) Foreman really didn't know anything about Chase other than the fact that he was from Australia and incredibly rich. Chase just never said anything about his personal life. Foreman had to admit; however, that he had never really been that curious either. However, now . . . now he was curious.
He ran and caught up with Chase. "I'm just wondering what is wrong with you. Is that so bad?"
"Did it ever occur to you that it's none of your business?"
It wasn't his business at all, but he would be up all night if he didn't figure it out. "Whatever it is it can't be that bad."
"You sound like Cameron, you know that?" Foreman just stared at him.
"If I tell you, will you leave me alone?"
Finally, they were getting somewhere! "Yeah, sure man. Whatever."
"Fine. When I was little, about ten or so, I spent a lot of time in my room, which made my dad mad. He called me a cave-dweller."(3)
Foreman just stared at him. All the quietness, the sulking, the evasiveness over that? It could have been a flat out lie, but Foreman just decided there was more to it. Especially the way Chase's eyes looked so sad. The look in his eyes made Foreman not to push it. He knew what it what it was like to grow up in a rough home, and maybe, just maybe Chase did too. What Chase had said about that kid with the alcoholic mom echoed in Foreman's head.
"So . . . that's it?"
"Yup."
"Okay."
"What, no more questions about my life?" The sarcasm barely failed to mask the pleading in Chase's voice. He obviously didn't want to talk anymore.
"Nope. I promised, remember?"
"Yeah. So, see ya tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Tomorrow." Foreman turned to head back to his car. Before he reached the door, Chase called out to him.
"Hey, Foreman?"
"Huh?"
"Thanks."
"For what?"
"For not asking." And with that Chase gave him a small smile before going to locker room. Foreman laughed; the smile didn't seem nearly as irritating now.
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All reviews are appreciated, even though it's done. If you're a fan of Betrayal reviews for either story will help me write faster.:)
(1) I'm not saying Chase is a bad doctor, or that he isn't good in the differentials, I'm just trying to see from Foreman's POV.
(2) There are a couple of scenes from Sport's Medicine with the ducklings having dinner together(along with Foreman's drug rep.) This is just me saying that Foreman and Cameron still have dinner, and Chase just doesn't come. It wasn't/isn't romantic.
(3) His parent's were still together at nine, his mom was already an alcoholic, and seventeen years later his dad has recently kicked off. Use your imagination.