REWIND...part 3
It had been a few hours since House had checked on Chase. Given the fact that Cuddy was being obstinate about him doing Clinic duty, he'd been forced to muddle through about two dozen patients, then he'd gone to the cafeteria to eat and relax for a few minutes while contemplating his next move with Chase. He still wasn't sure what he wanted to do when he stepped into the elevator to take him to diagnostics. He was leaning against the wall, considering, when Wilson stepped inside.
"How's Chase doing?" Wilson asked. "I'll ask him when I see him and get back to you," House replied.
Wilson chuckled. "Been on clinic duty?"
House had to admit, it was a good guess. "Going home?" he countered, which was a good guess as well, given the fact that Wilson had his overcoat on.
"That was the plan," Wilson allowed, looking decidedly chipper.
"Hot date?" House was suspicious of the happy glint in Wilson's eyes.
Heaving a sigh, Wilson replied, "That would be none of your business. House simply nodded. He'd find out one way or another if Wilson did have a date. He changed the subject. "You do realize we're going up not down, right?" He tapped to the numbers lighting up over the door with the end of his cane.
"Yeah, I got that," Wilson drawled. "I just figured I'd check in on Chase before I headed out."
"Since when are you and Chase buddies?" House countered, wondering if he was missing something. Lately everyone seemed to have little secrets he wasn't aware of. Like Cuddy being almost protective of Chase. That was something he intended to talk to her about before leaving tonight.
Wilson opened his mouth to reply but the elevator door slid open and he stepped out neatly instead. He didn't wait for House, just started walking down the corridor. House grunted then moved to follow. Even with his limp his longer legs ate up ground so he caught up to Wilson easily. They didn't talk as they headed for the corner room. House stepped ahead, pushed the door open then swore as he stared at the empty bed with the covers pushed back and the IV line trailing over the mattress. "SONOFABITCH!"
"I'll get the nurse," Wilson offered, after poking his head in. He headed off in a hurry.
"Stupid little idiot!" House vented as he paced. He had never met anyone who made as many bad choices as Chase. Bad choices about everything. He heard footsteps and voices approaching and he limped out of the room to confront the head nurse. "Where the hell is Dr. Chase?" he snarled at her.
She jumped then looked affronted. "He signed himself out."
House swallowed a nasty reply, asking instead, "How long ago?" "Maybe three hours." "Idiots!" House pushed past her, heading back for the elevator. He heard Wilson thanking the nurse then footsteps running to catch up but he was already inside and heading back down, not wanting to talk right now. At least not to Wilson. House made his way to Cuddy's office, bursting in without knocking. "I need Chase's address!" he snapped at her.
Cuddy was on the phone. She glared at him, spoke quietly into the receiver, hung up then said, "No." House thumped his cane on the floor. "He signed himself out. Did you know that?"
"What?" Cuddy looked startled and rose from her chair to move around her desk and confront House. "He left? When?" "A few hours ago." House glared at her. "Stop hiring stupid nurses!"
Anger flared in Cuddy's eyes and she, visibly, fought for composure. "I'll talk to the nurse." As she spoke she reached for a note pad and a pen. She scribbled something then held it out. "Here's the address."
House snatched it from her, saying nothing as he headed out. When he reached the lobby of the main floor, he found Wilson waiting for him, with his coat in hand.
"I'll drive," Wilson offered.
"What about your hot date?" House shot back, even as he shrugged into his coat. He was glad Wilson was coming. He was too angry to drive right now. When he got a hold of Chase he was going to wring the idiot's scrawny neck.
Wilson rolled his eyes, moving to open the door for House. "No back seat driving," he warned, "or I'll push you out on your ass."
House almost laughed at that. He liked it when Wilson threw his acerbic snark back at him. It was fun to play with someone. But his amusement faded as they got into the car and left the parking lot. Chase was in a lot of trouble. They reached the manor house where Chase was now living in record time. Wilson could be a lead foot when he wanted to be, a trait that House found admirable. "Wait here," he told him, as he got out of the car. "I won't be long."
"Yes, dad," Wilson drawled, waving House on. It felt like a long walk to the door, but House persevered. Once there he banged on it with his cane handle, eschewing the button for the bell. He expected a butler to open the door but it was a young woman who answered. House pushed past her, stepping into the ornate foyer. "Where's Dr. Chase?"
The young woman looked worried, staying near the open doorway. "I'll let him know you're here," she said. "Mister...?"
"House. And it's doctor, and tell him to get his ass down here now!" House snapped. He watched her close the door then head for the stairs only to stop in her tracks. The reason being that Vanessa, wrapped in a dressing gown, was on her way down. House moved to meet her at the bottom step. "I'm taking Chase back to the hospital," he said.
"He's sleeping," Vanessa countered, her eyes blazing with anger. "Who the hell do you think you are to come barging into my home like this?"
House resisted the urge to choke her. "I'm Chase's boss and his doctor and he belongs in the hospital right now. He collapsed, did you know that?" He knew she didn't by the way her eyes widened. Eyes that were glazed. She was drunk but she held her liquour surprisingly well, although he could smell vodka and sex on her. Chase was an idiot. Pushing past her, House started up the stairs. Damn place was huge, it should have had an elevator handy.
Vanessa rushed to catch up to him. "Leave Chase alone!" she snapped. "He belongs here, with me!"
"He's sick!" House wasn't going to play games. Ignoring the burning pain in his thigh, he made the top of the stairs and turned left. There were double doors at the end of the hallway and he was guessing that they led to the master bedroom. He felt Vanessa's fingers grip his arm and he shrugged her off, lengthening his stride as best he could. Then he was bursting through the doors in a dramatic entrance that would have made Sonny Corinthos proud.
House kept going till he reached the bed, glaring down at the still form within. Reaching out, House gripped Chase's bare shoulder and shook him. "Dr. Chase...GET UP!" he shouted. But even as he was shaking him, House could feel that Chase was chilled. He was covered to the waist with blankets and the room itself was warm, but Chase's smooth, pale, skin was cool to the touch.
Vanessa was suddenly beside House, trying to push him away. "Leave him alone!" she raged. "He's sleeping!"
"You'd better hope so," House shot back, grimly. Then he focused solely on Chase, reaching out to take his pulse. Slightly erratic. He leaned over, listening for breath sounds. They were slow. House felt a flutter of panic as he cupped Chase's face between his hands then shouted at him, "WAKE UP NOW!" Nothing. He slapped his cheeks lightly. Still no response. House had his suspicions. Eyes darting around, they fell upon the empty vodka bottle resting on the bedside table. Pointing to it, House focused on Vanessa. "How much of that did Chase have to drink?" He hoped she would tell him nothing.
"I dunno," Vanessa slurred. "Maybe half."
House closed his eyes, muttering curses beneath his breath. Then he glared at Vanessa. "Call 911. Now!" When she simply stared at him he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "Call now! Chase has alcohol poisoning and he could die! Comprende?"
Vanessa made a choking sound and her face crumpled, then she was breaking free of House and rushing over to the other side of the room. He watched her pick up a cell phone and dial.
"Come on, Chase," House whispered, eyes once again locked on the Aussie's pale face. His skin was tinged blue. The stupid sonofabitch! Anger flared in House and he grabbed the empty vodka bottle, hurling it across the room, watching it shatter against the wall.
"They're coming," Vanessa announced, unfazed by the crash. She was back by the bed, reaching for Chase's hand. "It's okay, beautiful," she whispered. "You're going to be fine." She smoothed golden hair off Chase's forehead then looked up at House. "He's going to be fine, isn't he?"
House resisted the urge to slap her. "You'd better hope so," he snarled. "Because if he dies it's your fault!" That said, he focused all his attention on Chase, willing the young doctor to keep breathing until the ambulance arrived. He didn't even notice when Wilson appeared by his side to help him keep vigil.
OoO
Chase came to awareness slowly. He felt heavy and achy and his mind felt thick and his thoughts mangled. Smell was the first sense to hit him, the sharp sting of disinfectant in his nostrils. He peeled his eyes open and familiar white walls appeared. Hospital. He was in the hospital again.
"Chase?"
He recognized Cameron's voice and turned his head toward the sound. Pain flared in his skull and he swallowed a whimper. The swallow turned into choking because his throat was so dry. Choking turned to coughing and his stomach twisted into knots and he fought against the roil of nausea that forced towards his mouth.
"Take a sip," Cameron instructed.
Chase felt a hand cup the back of his neck then something press against his lips. He realized it was a straw and he managed a small swallow. It helped soothe his throat and ease the cough. After a moment he relaxed back against the pillows and blinked hard to bring Cameron's face into full focus. "Wh-what happened?"
Cameron winced, turning away to set the cup of water down before facing him again. "You got sick. Alcohol poisoning. If House hadn't gone after you, you would have died."
He heard the accusation in her tone but didn't respond to it. "Where's Vanessa?" "What were you thinking?" Cameron countered, anger warring with compassion in her eyes. "Were you trying to kill yourself?"
"Why do you drink?" Chase shot back, feeling way too worn out to deal with Cameron's outrage. What did she care what he did anyway? They were colleagues and one time fuck buddies. Nothing more. Didn't matter that he'd had feelings for her once. Cameron liked House and seemed unable, or maybe unwilling, to push past those feelings.
Cameron looked exasperated. "I have a drink or two to relax," she replied.
Chase considered her words for a moment then asked, "Why did you take the meth?" He knew he had her on that one. She didn't want to face why and she sure as hell wasn't going to talk to him about it. Which suited Chase just fine. All he wanted right now was to be left alone. But he did have one question. "How long have I been here?"
"Two days," Cameron said, her tone going soft again. "You were in and out of it. Mostly out."
"Where's Vanessa?" Chase asked again. He vaguely remembered having sex with her then pretty much passing out. He needed to know that she was okay. No doubt he'd scared her to death getting sick. Vanessa didn't deal well with sickness. Not even her own. It was House who replied to his question, from his position in the doorway.
"I banned her," he stated.
Chase wasn't as surprised to hear that as he should have been. "I want to see her!" he shot back.
"Not an option," House drawled, as he limped into the room. He waved a hand at Cameron and she scurried out, closing the door behind her. Moving to the bed, House studied Chase. "So, do you feel as crappy as you look?" he asked, cheerfully. Although his eyes weren't gleaming, they were grim and narrowed.
"I want to see Vanessa," Chase stated. He tried shifting a bit to get more comfortable, but the movement only caused him pain. He shifted, one hand lifting to his face, fingertips pressing hard into his forehead. He felt the tug of the IV line on the back of his hand but its sting was insignificant in comparison to his other ills.
House dragged a chair over to the bed, making the chair legs squeal. He then sat down heavily, his eyes focused sharply on Chase. "She's like poison to you," he replied. "I'm not going to give you poison. In fact, I'm the nice man who's going to take the poison away so you can get all better."
Chase lowered his hand, trying to ignore the fact that he was trembling. His eyes felt gritty and unfocused, but he widened them and pinned House with as close to a glare as he could muster. "I'm not a child," he said softly. "You can't make decisions for me. You can't control my personal life."
"I'd do a hell of a better job of it than you have been," House shot back, and his words were meant to sting. "You 're a mess, Chase."
"Not your problem." Chase didn't want to do this with House. Not now, not ever.
House thumped his cane on the floor and his voice was tight with suppressed anger as he spoke. "You work for me, you become my problem. More trouble than you're worth for the most part, but still my problem. Which I'm going to fix. Vanessa isn't allowed in this hospital. End of story."
Chase wasn't about to argue with House. "Fine. Then I'll leave." Not that he was going to do that right now. He knew he wouldn't be able to crawl out of the bed, much less make the attempt to stand. But tomorrow he would be stronger. Tomorrow he would leave.
"You have two options," House stated. "Leave Vanessa or leave your job?"
"You can't do that!" Chase knew he sounded pathetically weak in his protest, but he didn't have the energy to be sharper. "You can't make me choose one over the other!"
House looked unimpressed. "Why not?"
Chase didn't want to make a confession, but House was leaving him no choice. "I love Vanessa."
"More than your job?" House badgered.
"I risked everything to keep my job," Chase reminded him. And that had been one of the most painful moments of his life. Choosing Vogler over House, but only to keep his job, so that he could stay with House. His life was one fucked up conundrum after another. House shifted a bit closer, something cold and mocking glittering in his blue eyes.
"Then it should be an easy choice. You can find another old lady to bang, but you can't get another job with me."
Chase almost laughed at that, and might have if his stomach hadn't been twisted into knots. He swallowed hard, pushing back the nausea that was inching up his throat and whispered, "You think this is about you? You couldn't be more wrong. You think you know me, but you don't. You don't know anything about me."
"I know you've moved past your daddy issues and are now trying to fuck yourself up with mommy issues," House calmly replied. "And just to wrap things up for you, you can't save Vanessa anymore than you could save your mother. So all you're doing is watching someone else die and racking up more guilt points. Waste of time."
"I love Vanessa," Chase repeated, because it was easier to do that then admit, even to himself, that he'd been dreaming about his mother. Reliving the moment he had found her collapsed in the stairwell, lying in a pool of her own vomit, eyes wide open and staring at nothing. He hadn't been there to save her, or to even try, and it ate away at him a cancerous growth.
House rolled his eyes, a cold chuckle escaping him. "You love what she represents. Another chance to save mom." House's tone got sharper, cutting like a knife and it was obvious he knew that what he was saying would hurt. That he was hoping it would. "You, more than anyone, should know that you can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved."
Chase thought about how amusing those words were and he wished he felt better so he could properly throw them back in House's face. Instead he could barely muster a whispered, "Take your own advice, House." And there was true double meaning in his words. House didn't want to save himself, and Chase didn't want to be saved.
"What's it going to be, Chase?" House demanded, obviously unwilling to accept the challenge. He rose to his feet, pushing the chair back against the wall and looming over his duckling. "Vanessa or your job?"
"You don't have that kind of power, House," Chase shot back. "You're not god and you can't control my life. You can't make me do want you want."
House gave a derisive snort at that. "You're kidding me, right? Because I do that to you every single day. I play you like a puppet on a string and you...you can't wait to dance for me."
And that was so close to the truth that Chase felt himself flinch. He closed his eyes against the sudden sting of tears, willing them away. He didn't cry and he would never cry in front of House. He'd shoot himself in the head first. "Go to hell!" he hissed, only to find hard fingers gripping his chin. He opened his eyes and the glare from House made him shiver.
"Make your choice, Chase," House insisted.
"Leave me alone." It was begging and Chase didn't care. He shoved House's hand off him and tried to curl up on his side. The movement triggered flares of pain throughout his body, and sent his stomach lurching. Acrid bile raced up his esophagus and Chase felt himself choking on it. Then hands were on him, helping him lean over as he vomited into the basin that appeared like magic. He puked until he shuddered with the contractions of it then he felt himself pressed back into the pillows and cool wetness smoothing over his face and Cameron's soft voice whispering things he supposed were meant to comfort him. A cool rush flooded his veins without warning and Chase tensed for a moment, then the pain and nausea slipped away as he drifted into sweet oblivion.
OoO
The next day Chase talked to Cuddy about quitting the diagnostic team. But not about Vanessa, or House's forcing a choice on him. He wasn't sure how far he could trust Cuddy, although she had been very supportive of him in the past.
"If you quit, I'll be happy to hire you in ICU," Cuddy stated. "But you do realize you won't escape from House just because you move to a different department."
"I could work the night shift," Chase countered, because it wouldn't be all that different from what he did now. As the specialist in Intensive Care, it was usually his job to keep watch over their patients when they went critical.
Cuddy nodded, then her expression softened into something mirroring concern. "How are you feeling today?"
Chase considered the question. He felt like he had the world's worst hangover, but otherwise he felt better than he might have expected. The worst thing being how jittery he felt, and how weak. A trip to the bathroom earlier had about done him in. But he smiled at Cuddy and gave his pat answer, "I'm fine."
"You look tired," Cuddy said softly. "Think about what you want to do and we'll discuss it later."
"Thanks," Chase replied, then he blurted out the question that had been bothering him all day. "Am I in trouble?"
Cuddy didn't even pretend not to understand. "Should you be?" she countered. "And by that I'm asking you if I need to be worried that you'll be coming into work hung over every day."
Chase appreciated her bluntness. "I'm not an alcoholic," he replied firmly. Cuddy didn't know about his mom, no one knew but House and he wanted to keep it that way. He didn't think she knew about Vanessa either. Then again, maybe House had told her. Not that it mattered. Chase didn't intend to drink anything alcoholic again for quite some time. If ever. He looked her in the eye and stated, "It won't happen again."
"I believe you," Cuddy replied, then she patted Chase on the shoulder before turning to head for the door. "Get some rest." With that she was gone. Chase curled up on his side and closed his eyes, unaware of the fact that Foreman had heard everything and was on his way to tell House.
OoO
House was pissed. Who he was directly pissed at, he wasn't sure. He supposed it didn't really matter. Maybe he was pissed at himself for giving a damn what Chase did with his life. When Foreman had informed him that Chase had asked Cuddy about quitting and that she had offered him a position in ICU, House had felt both hurt and furious. He didn't even want to consider why he felt hurt, or maybe a better word was betrayed. So he focused on the anger instead. Like always, Chase was trying to weasel out of facing reality. The kid needed to learn that there was no such thing as neutral territory. Some times he had to make the hard choices and live with the consequences. Now was one of those times and House was going to give him hell. Right after he blasted Cuddy. He hurtled into her office, not bothering to knock. "Chase can't quit!" he snapped at her.
Cuddy looked up from the file on her desk, expelled a quiet sigh, then gestured for House to close the door. "Whether or not he wants to quit is up to Chase."
"He doesn't want to quit, he's just pissed that I banned his old lady from the premises," House shot back. He closed the door then took up position in front of Cuddy's desk.
"Legally, you can't do that," Cuddy reminded him.
House resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her. They both knew he didn't give a shit about legalities. "In case you haven't noticed, Chase is a bit messed up right now. He needs help."
Cuddy nodded, leaning forward to fold her hands on her desk and eye House with something akin to understanding. "I agree, he does. But not the kind you're offering."
"What?" House shot back, trying hard to keep an even tone. He was so angry at the moment he felt like he might pop a vein. "Tough love works in all the prison movies."
"This isn't a prison and Chase isn't a prisoner," Cuddy cautioned. "And for the record I'm going to do what I can to help him. And by that I mean get him into therapy sessions."
House snorted. "You tried that already, after his suspension. He flat out refused." Not that House could blame him.
Cuddy looked stunned for a moment, then struggled to hide it. "Chase told you about that?" She asked.
"Oh sure, we have deep and meaningful conversations all the time," House shot back, this time giving in to the urge to roll his eyes. Then he decided to mess with her by actually telling the truth. "I was eavesdropping. Anyway, we both know Chase will refuse therapy."
"Not if I make it a condition of him returning to work," Cuddy countered, smoothly. "But where he ends up working is not up to you, House. It's up to Chase. Maybe if you stop pushing him he'll stay with you."
House realized she had a point, so he dropped that particular issue. Mainly because he now had confirmation that Cuddy was fully supportive of Chase. Which begged the question, "Are you protecting Chase from something?"
Cuddy was quiet for a moment, lifting one hand to rub hard between her eyes with her fingertips. After a moment she leaned back in her chair and locked eyes with House. "Maybe," she allowed. "But it's more from someone."
"Who?" House knew it was a loaded question.
"Maybe you," Cuddy replied, not missing a beat. That said she shuffled the papers on her desk with deliberate intent. "Unlike some people, I have work to do."
House got the hint and left. There was nothing more he could do here anyway. So he headed off to see Chase. For once the Aussie was alone in his room and House entered as quietly as he could, closing the door behind him and taking a moment to watch Chase. He was sleeping curled up on one side and he looked ridiculously young and fragile. Fragile in a way that bothered House.
Moving over to the side of the bed Chase was facing, House lifted his cane and rapped on the bed rail. He smiled to himself as Chase jerked awake. "Nap time is over," House stated. "Time to make your choice. Door number one or door number two? Me or the old lady?"
"You really think I'd choose you, don't you?" Chase mumbled, shifting onto his back and trying to sit up. His movements were sluggish and he lifted one hand to fist the sleep from his eyes. "I quit," he whispered.
"You can't," House shot back, and he had been expecting it so he wasn't surprised. He was, however, determined to get his own way. "I won't let you out of your contract."
Chase closed his eyes, looking pale and worn out. "You can't have it both ways, House," he said softly. "You told me to choose. I choose Vanessa. I don't need this job."
House rapped his cane on the bedrail again, sharper this time, waiting until Chase was staring at him, eyes wide and shimmering with surprise. "You need this job in ways you don't even want to think about," he shot back. "This job, with me...it's all you have to define yourself with."
"Don't try to psychoanalyze me!" Chase snapped. "What you're doing...it isn't even about me. It's about you and your sick need to yank my chain any way you can. You play this game with me, this game that I never had the rules for. So I always lose and you love winning. But I'm not going to play anymore."
"You can't save Vanessa anymore than you could save your mother!" House taunted, and his tone was sharp and angry because Chase was giving up without a fight. He knew he pushed Chase harder than the others. He did it for a reason that Chase was oblivious to. His Aussie duckling was a good doctor, but he had the potential to be brilliant. But Chase was too afraid to make the effort, too afraid he would fail and in that failure he would lose even the hope that he was good enough at something to make somebody proud of him. House would be more than happy to show him that pride, as soon as Chase made the effort to try. Rowan Chase hadn't bothered to look at his son long enough to see what lurked beneath the shiny veneered surface his son projected. He had died never knowing the man his son was. The man House knew Chase could be. He'd be damned if he'd let Chase give up on himself. Certainly not because of some stupid, misplaced, guilt. Guilt served no useful purpose and House was going to badger if out of Chase if he had too.
But Chase was curling away from House, his voice muffled into his pillow as he pleaded, "Leave me alone."
House stomped around to the other side of the bed, pinning Chase with a glare that would have been more effective if the Aussie's eyes were open. But that didn't stop House from delivering a parting shot. "You're mother is dead, get over it. Vanessa is one foot away from the grave. Stop letting her drag you down with her. She doesn't love you anymore than you love her. You're just a pretty little boy toy she likes playing with because you're willing to clean up her messes. Focus on saving yourself, Chase. You know what you have to do."
Watching Chase's pale face, House hoped for some reaction. But the younger man didn't stir and after a moment House left the room, cursing Chase all the way down the hallway. House would save him in spite of himself. He would do it if only to prove that he could.
THE END...of part 3