Just something short and sweet and cliffhanger like to hold you over till tomorrow!


Chase's POV

I'm conscious as to all that's happening around me. I hear Wilson and Cuddy talking over me. I know that they need to check me over but that doesn't mean I enjoy the fact I'm lying naked in the hospital I work in.

I have a new pain to add to my list of complaints. The one in my side is powerful enough to get rid of the burning on my back and in my ass.

If I had to guess I would say that the bullet hadn't hit anything major. It just hurt like hell. Part of me wishes that I was hit someplace else or that the damage is worse than I think it is.

I remember being pulled out of that room with Wilson looking at me. I wish he would have stopped doing that. I know that he was trying to help, but it made it worse. He knew all about what was going on. That I asked for it.

I'm glad that it's not Cameron or Foreman hovering over me at the moment. It's bad enough that Wilson and Cuddy know what happened. Even worse is that Wilson is going to tell House.

I try not to cry out as I'm lifted onto a gurney and wheeled away. I feel a stick in my arm. I wonder if I can resign.


Warm, soft, floating, calm, safe, happy, painless.
Nothing is how I expect it. There is no antiseptic smell to the air. There is no beep of monitors in the background. The bed isn't uncomfortable and small. The sheets aren't scratchy. My legs don't feel naked in the gown. It actually doesn't feel like I'm wearing a hospital gown.

I slowly open my eyes, waiting for the glaring of the hospital lights to blind me.

Shockingly there are none. The lights are quiet low. I'm not in a hospital room. It's a bedroom. The bed has cotton sheets, I decide as I run my hands over them. And the bed is queen sized. I seem to be dressed in a pair of sweat pants that are too big and a sweat shirt. It's actually quite comfortable.

Could this have all just been a dream? A nightmare? Did any of this actually happen? Could I have just imagined all that had happened? Had the past two months been just my mind working over time?

I move to get up and the sharp pain in my side is actually comforting in the fact that I didn't imagine all of this. I don't know what that's comforting, it just is.

Laying back down I look around the room. It's not mine. The clothing isn't mine either.

If I'm not in a hospital and I'm not home where the hell am I?