REWIND...part 9
When Chase left Wilson, he headed for the locker room to collect his gear. He knew it would be best if he went home. If House was sending Wilson to talk to him again, then House would be watching him too closely. So Chase made a pit stop in Cuddy's office to request the next two days off. He explained about his injury and she was more than willing to give him the time, especially since he had been putting so much overtime in anyway. He then made a stop at the pharmacy to fill the prescriptions House had given him.
Not that he wanted to go home. But he went there anyway because there was no place else for him to go. To his relief Vanessa was out when he got there. Chase was tired and his arm ached so he decided to eat something then go to bed. He ate half a banana, some toast and drank some Gatorade. He decided to shower before going to bed, and the hot water felt wonderful. He stayed under it for quite a while, then he dried off, took one of each prescription, pulled on boxers and a t-shirt and slid under the covers.
He felt jittery and he knew it was because he needed to run, but the ache in his head and arm wouldn't allow it so he closed his eyes and willed himself to go to sleep. As his mind drifted about, Chase found himself remembering his mother's funeral. Remembering how alone he had felt and how he had stood beside his mother's coffin before it was lowered into the ground, silently begging her for the forgiveness she could no longer give him. He would have to live with the fact that he had failed her.
And with that lingering guilt and sadness, Chase drifted off into darkness.
OoO
House finished the last of his noodles, setting aside the empty box and his chopsticks and focusing all his attention on Wilson. "So Chase is overflowing with guilt," he stated, picking up on the conversation they had started back at the Hospital. A conversation that House put a halt to after being interrupted by Cuddy calling and telling him that Chase was taking the next two days off. He still hadn't decided if that was a good thing or bad.
Wilson sighed, setting aside his own carton of food, unfinished. "He said more to me in those few sentences than in all the other times we've talked. He thinks his love isn't good enough."
"Whose is?" House scoffed. "Love can't save people or make life better. All it does is mess people up and complicate things."
"You would know all about that," Wilson allowed.
House made a face at him. "You're the King of the broken hearted, hot shot," he countered, then he grinned when Wilson flipped him the bird. "Chase doesn't love Vanessa anyway," he continued. "He's latched on to her as a mother figure, the same way he's clinging to me as a father figure."
Wilson sighed, scrubbing one hand over his face. "God, he's one fucked up kid," he bemoaned.
"Tell me about it." House was nothing if not honest to himself, and Chase choosing him as a father figure was pathetic. Which was why he tried so hard to keep the Aussie focused on medicine. Chase could be a brilliant diagnostician, if he pushed himself to be. But House knew Chase was afraid to make the effort. He was afraid of failing and having nothing left to hang on to. And in failing, his father - though dead now - would still be right about him. Fathers really sucked. Shaking off that line of thought, House locked eyes with Wilson. "So what should I do?"
"Damned if I know." Wilson pushed out of his chair and began cleaning up the mess. He took it to the kitchen, dumped it in the garbage, then grabbed them both a second beer from the fridge. He handed one off to House and said, "He's teetering on the edge of the precipice right now. If you push too hard he'll tip over. If you don't push at all, he'll tip over."
House knew Wilson was right. "I could force him into therapy. Cuddy would sign off on it."
Wilson looked shocked. "By therapy you mean lock him up in some rehab type place?"
"Might work," House replied with casual indifference. He rolled his eyes at the venomous glare Wilson shot him. "What would you like me to do? Hold his hand? Either I do something drastic to help him or I sit on the sidelines and watch the train wreck happen."
"Find a third option," Wilson prompted. "Something less destructive for both of you."
House waved a dismissive hand at that. "The only way I'm affected by what happens to Chase is if I lose him. Then I have to do another interview."
Wilson sighed. "You're an ass."
"And proud of it," House replied, pushing to his feet and moving over to sit at the piano. He closed his eyes and began to play, hoping to find some kind of answer in the beauty of the music. But he knew that a pretty melody couldn't save Chase, or his own miserable soul.
OoO
Chase woke up still alone. Vanessa hadn't come home. Which worried him enough to make him reach for the phone and call her. She answered her cell sounding slurred and exhausted, but she seemed pleased enough to hear from him and she promised she would be back tonight. Then she hung up on him. Chase didn't think much of it because Vanessa's behavior was much like his mother's had been. Horrifically drastic mood swings.
Sliding out of bed he relieved himself then popped two more pills. His arm was stiff but didn't ache quite as much today, so long as he didn't press on the sore spot. Pulling on sweats and lacing on sneakers, Chase headed for the kitchen. He made himself eat half a banana, since one of the pills was meant to be taken with food, then he drank a bit of Gatorade before heading out for a run.
By the time he came back, over an hour later, he was tired, his arm throbbed a bit, but he felt better than he had in days. In fact, he was whistling to himself as he grabbed the Gatorade out of the fridge. He gulped some down then headed upstairs for a shower. Once he was out he brushed his teeth and half considered going in to work. But he nixed the idea. If he stayed out the two days then House would see that he was fine and get off his back. So he pulled on jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, forgoing socks since he enjoyed being barefoot. As a kid he had loved spending time at the beach. Mostly he'd gone with his mother before she had gotten too drunk to go out much. Then he'd hung out with his friends a bit, until his mum had become too needy and dependant on him.
He didn't want to think about that now. That part of his life was over and done with and he had traveled thousands of miles to make it so. Reaching for the remote, Chase clicked the TV on and climbed onto the bed. He didn't care about the messy covers today. Normally he was something of a neat freak. In fact it had been a bit hard adjusting to the fact that Vanessa was compulsively messy, relying completely on servants to keep her house neat and clean and tidy. She had even yelled at Chase for picking up after her a few times in the beginning of their relationship. That was one difference between Vanessa and his mother. His mum had yelled at him many times for not picking up her messes. Times when he was busy trying to focus on his school work. Or when he had been angry enough at her and his life to slip away, to have some fun with his friends for a few hours.
"Stop it!" Chase hissed at himself. The TV wasn't working to distract him, he needed something else to do. Slipping off the bed he headed downstairs, wandering through the house and half talking himself into going in to work. Maybe he could slip in and hide his presence from both House and Cuddy. But Chase nixed that idea at once. He'd never be able to pull it off. House would no doubt sense his presence and Cuddy always seemed to know what was going on in her Hospital.
After a time, Chase wandered into what Vanessa called the sitting room. Off to one side was a baby grand piano. Chase moved to sit on the bench, letting his fingertips rest lightly on the ivory keys. He hadn't played in years. Vanessa had asked him once if he played and he'd told her not really. But it was hard to forget ten years of piano lessons, especially when you started them at four years old. So Chase closed his eyes and began to play, the music flowing stiffly at first, but then becoming more melodious as he relaxed and let himself simply feel each note.
He played for three hours, finally stopping because his fingers and wrists ached and his injury was starting to throb. Closing the lid, Chase slid off the bench and headed for the kitchen. He drank some water and ate a banana, then he went upstairs to take more pills. The pain meds were strong enough to make him a bit sleepy, so he stretched out on the bed and dozed off.
Chase woke to shadows in the room. He had slept for seven hours, waking only because he had to pee. While relieving himself he started feeling jittery again so after washing his hands he stripped out of his jeans and into sweatpants. Socks and sneakers went on next and Chase headed out for a short run. He felt sweaty and a bit achy when he returned, but more focused and less jittery. He ate a bit, took the bottle of Gatorade upstairs with him then took a quick shower. Vanessa was standing in the doorway when he stepped out, reaching for the towel. He flushed a bit at her scrutiny, even though she often saw him naked. For some reason he felt too vulnerable and exposed in this moment.
"I did that to you," she said, moving to him and gesturing at the bruise on his forearm. "I hurt you, Robbie."
"It's okay." The reassurance slipped out reflexively. He was so used to saying it. "You didn't mean it." The words sounded stilted to his own ears. Just because you repeated something a million times, that didn't make it true.
Tears slid down Vanessa's face as she wrapped her arms around him. "I'm so so sorry, Robbie!" she sobbed into his neck. "I wouldn't hurt you for the world!"
Chase wrapped his arms around her, wincing at the pull in his sore arm. She was clinging to him like a leech, uncaring that he was still wet and that water was soaking into her clothes. But Chase still felt too exposed and there was a chill in the air that left him shuddering. "It's okay," he said, rubbing a hand over Vanessa's back. "Why don't you wait for me in the bedroom while I get dressed and we'll talk about it."
"Come with me, Robbie." Vanessa was pulling away and gripping his good arm to make him come with her.
He wasn't sure he wanted this, but he knew Vanessa used sex to make things better. Better for her, but maybe it was better for them both. So Chase let her push him onto the bed. He helped her strip out of her blouse and skirt and undergarments. He let her kiss him and touch him and ride him, until they were both spent and exhausted. Then he let his eyes drift closed as she whispered more apologies. Mercifully, sleep soon claimed him.
OoO
"So, no word from Chase?" Cameron asked, as House entered his office. She was sorting through his emails as she always did.
"Not that I know of," House replied, waving her out of his chair. "He's off till tomorrow, why would I hear from him?"
Cameron shrugged. "I thought maybe you might have called to check on him."
House snorted. "Does that sound like something I would do?"
"I dunno, you're always doing something to surprise me," Cameron replied, and there was a slight smirk on her lips as she spoke.
"What have I done lately?" House queried, as he reached in his coat pocket for his Vicodin bottle. He popped one then stared at Cameron, waiting for a reply.
But she was done with their verbal sparring. "No new cases so I'm heading to the clinic," she announced.
House let her reach the door before calling out, "Don't forget to sign in as me!" When she turned around to glare at him he grinned, but the moment she was gone the smile faded. He wondered if he was being too readable all of a sudden, or if Cameron was just paying too close attention to him. Or both. He thought he had hidden his concern for Chase pretty damn well. Well enough that he could fool himself into pretending he didn't care about the Aussie. Sometimes. Truth be told, it had taken all his considerable will power not to drive over to the Mansion to make sure Chase was still alive and kicking.
"Goldilocks can take care of himself," House announced to his office at large. Nodding to himself in agreement, he reached for his Gameboy, studiously ignoring the phone.
OoO
His last day off was better than he had expected it to be. Chase had slept the night through, waking up early enough to take a long run. Vanessa had been awake upon his return and they had showered together before sharing a light breakfast. She wasn't a big eater in the morning, so she didn't notice that he didn't eat much more than a bite of toast and some fruit.
They spent the rest of the day lazing around the house and she made it a point to make sure of his comfort, fetching his pills when he needed them and tucking him in when he started dozing while watching TV. As he drifted off, Chase felt a twinge of hope that things could be good between them again. If he made more of an effort, his life could be good with Vanessa.
When he woke up he felt jittery and a bit nauseous. Vanessa fussed over him and Chase assured her he was fine, just shaking off the effects of too much sleep. He got up, used the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He wanted to go for a run but he knew he would have to wait until Vanessa was sleeping.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Vanessa asked, when he returned to the bedroom.
"I'm fine," Chase assured her. "Maybe we could go for a walk?" He glanced out the window and the sun was shining. It was near dinner time and he suddenly felt a bit claustrophobic. He wasn't sure if it was from being inside or because of Vanessa's almost suffocating presence, but he needed to escape, one way or another.
Vanessa looked surprised by the request, but nodded. "I think I have some comfortable shoes somewhere," she said, laughing as she rummaged about in the closet. After a time she returned, watching as Chase laced on his sneakers.
He thanked her when they got outside. "You don't have to come with if you really don't want to," Chase said. "But I appreciate you making the effort."
"What...you think I can't handle a little walk?" Vanessa countered, pouting at him playfully. "This will be good for the both of us, Robbie." She linked her arm through his and sighed. "Sometimes I feel like life is rushing by me and I'm missing out on everything."
"Yeah, I know the feeling," Chase said softly. Sometimes he felt as if he had missed his entire childhood. Like he'd never had the chance to be a normal kid. But the time for past regrets was over and he reminded himself to live in the moment.
Vanessa squeezed his arm. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess at times," she apologized. "I don't make it easy for you, do I?"
Chase leaned in to kiss her cheek. "It's okay," he assured her, because he knew that was what she needed. What she was asking him for. "I like a challenge. Wouldn't be working for House if I didn't." And wasn't that an absolute and almost terrifying truth. Working for House was a challenge that sometimes overwhelmed Chase, but he was determined to face it. He would never acknowledge it to himself, but a part of him knew he needed House. He just wasn't sure why.
"What do you feel like for supper?" Vanessa was asking.
And Chase realized she had changed subjects and he hadn't even noticed. Apparently she hadn't noticed his lack of attention, but he was determined to focus now. "Whatever you want," he said. "I'm not fussy." He wasn't hungry either, but he'd eat enough to look like he was.
They fell into a companionable silence after that, and Chase wished that the rest of his life could be so simple and pleasant. But he knew better than to wish for the impossible.
OoO
He awoke, jolted out of a dream, the images mangled in his head, but the emotions were raw and painful and he made a mad dash for the toilet. Chase heaved bile more than anything else, but it burned in his throat and his insides felt twisted by the time he was done retching. He was shaky and jittery as he rose to his feet to rinse his mouth. He needed to run.
Five minutes later he was outside, pounding the pavement and cursing himself for falling asleep before taking a run after bed. But he and Vanessa had made love and it been better than he ever remembered it being and they had both drifted off to sleep. By the time Chase got back to the house he felt better. He was in control of his body again and he was starting to feel like he was also in control of his life. For the first time ever.
He managed to down a slice of toast, a half of a banana and a half a bottle of Gatorade. Heading for the bathroom he showered, brushed his teeth, got dressed and realized his arm was doing better. Still sporting a mottled bruise and still tender to touch, but otherwise healing well. So Chase didn't bother with the meds House had prescribed for him, stuffing them into the sink drawer instead. He spotted the sleeping pills he had been taking and it was almost a relief that he hadn't needed them of late either. Not that he could have taken them with the other meds, but he hadn't needed too. He could go to work today and House would see he was fine and maybe, finally, leave him alone.
A smile on his lips, Chase moved to the bed to brush a goodbye kiss to Vanessa's temple. They had talked a lot yesterday, and she had shared some of her fears with him. Chase thought he understood her better and a part of him wished his mother had shared her fears with him as well. Sometimes she had confessed things to him, almost as if Chase were a priest she were admitting her sins too. But she had never really talked to him about things, and whenever he had tried, she'd always blown him off. Maybe talking would have made a difference somehow.
But Chase couldn't let himself focus on it. He couldn't change the past, he knew that better than anyone. So he would let it go and move on. Today was a new day, a fresh start. His mum had always told him that and it had never been true then. Chase was going to make it true now.
Still smiling, he headed out the door. On the drive to work, he let the radio blast, letting the music wrap around him, seeping in and soothing his soul. Music had always been a way for him to escape reality when he was a kid. Like most kids he had hated having to practice the piano and the violin, but he had loved the end result. Although he hadn't allowed himself the comfort of playing since his mother's death.
He didn't want to think about that either, so he was relieved when he pulled into the parking lot. Five minutes later he was in the conference room, making coffee. Five minutes after that Cameron came in and gave him a hug. Chase was so surprised by her action that he hugged her back reflexively.
"How are you feeling?" Cameron asked, pulling back and not even bothering to be discreet about giving him the once over.
"I'm fine," Chase replied, firmly. He didn't want her fussing over him anymore than he wanted House invading his privacy. Easing away from her he moved to pour them both a cup of coffee. "Do we have a case?" he asked, as he poured milk into both of their mugs.
Cameron shook her head. "Not unless something comes up today." She accepted her mug with a smile.
Chase wasn't looking forward to a day of sitting around and being bored. "Maybe I'll do some clinic hours then," he said, and it was at that moment House strolled through the door.
"We need to talk, Chase," he said, heading for his office, with the air of expecting to be obeyed and followed.
"What did you do to piss him off already?" Cameron asked, sotto voce.
Chase shrugged. "Good question. I haven't been here to screw anything up." He stepped past her, mug in hand, and entered House's office.
House was sitting behind his desk, eyes locked on Chase as he approached. "So, how's Vanessa?" he queried, amusement coloring his tone.
"She's fine," Chase replied. He hated the smirk House was wearing, but he'd be damned if he'd let the man get under his skin today. "We're both good," he continued. "So, we done? I'm off to the clinic."
"What are you running away from now, Chase?" House countered.
Chase kept his expression neutral and his tone the same as he replied, "I'm not running, I'm walking off to go to work. Is that a problem?"
House shrugged, his own expression as blank as Chase's. "Guess we'll see," he drawled, then he waved a hand at him. "Go do whatever it is you do. That doctoring thing."
Without another word, Chase left. But throughout the course of the day he was aware of the way both House and Wilson were watching him. Almost stalking him really, but he didn't react to them in any way. He just smiled when he saw them and carried on with whatever he was doing at the time. Let them watch, there was nothing to see. Soon enough they would get bored and find someone else to bother. Or so he hoped.
OoO
House sat at a corner table in the cafeteria, along with Wilson. He wasn't good company though. He was too focused on both his lunch and the table across the way where Chase, Foreman and Cameron sat chatting and eating.
Wilson watched the ducklings for a time as well, then he pushed his own sandwich aside and said, "Chase seems to be doing a lot better than he was."
"Seems to be," House allowed, around a mouthful of Rueben. "But appearances are always deceptive."
"In House's world they are," Wilson conceded.
Because his mouth was full, House could do nothing more than glare at Wilson, which he thought conveyed his opinion well enough anyway. Eventually he was able to swallow, eased by a long gulp of bottled water, then he turned his full attention on Chase and his companions, not even bothering to hide it.
Chase knew he was being watched by House and Wilson. Knew they had followed him to the cafeteria, which was why he had agreed to lunch with Cameron and Foreman. He didn't want to be alone so either House or Wilson could corner him. It was bad enough that he could feel them watching. Distracting enough that he was having a hard time following the conversation going on at his own table.
"Chase!"
He jumped at the sound of his name and turned to see Foreman watching him with amusement and Cameron looking annoyed. He realized he must have zoned out on something Cameron had said and he couldn't, for the life of him, remember what the topic of conversation had been. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "What were you saying?"
Cameron huffed an irritated sigh then said, "Foreman and I are going out for drinks tomorrow night after work. Do you want to come with us? We were thinking of catching a late movie after."
"I might join you for the drinks," Chase allowed. He could sense that Cameron was getting ready to ask him something more personal so he gathered his plate, which still contained most of a tuna sandwich, and stood up. "I need to get back to the clinic. See you guys later." With that Chase took off, passing by House and Wilson's table and resisting the urge to flip them both the bird
But he could feel them watching him as he exited the room.
OoO
Chase was collecting his gear to head out the door, glad that the day was finally at an end, when Wilson popped up. Cameron had already left, Foreman before her and House had disappeared hours ago. Chase had stayed late to do a bit of overtime in the clinic since Cuddy was short staffed, and now he wanted nothing more than to go home and take a run. But he faced Wilson with a neutral smile plastered on his face.
Wilson looked uncomfortable, he had his hands folded behind his back and he was rocking on his heels, as he eyed Chase. "So, how did your day go?" he queried.
"Fine," Chase replied. He wasn't in the mood to make this confrontation all that easy on Wilson. He'd had it with feeling like he was on suicide watch or something. "Yours?" He countered.
"It was...good." Wilson shrugged a bit and continued rocking. "So, um...I was wondering if you wanted to go for a drink or something? Or we can talk right here if you like."
Chase let puzzlement cross his face. "Talk about what? Did I miss a memo or something? Did you need a consult?" He was being deliberately obtuse because he knew what Wilson was doing. This was another fishing expedition sanctioned by House. So Chase would simply play the dumb blond role that House was so fond of putting him in, then Wilson could run back and report absolutely nothing to him.
Wilson expelled a soft sigh, dropping the pretense of polite conversation. "Look, I'm not going to pretend I haven't been worried about you, okay?"
"You don't have to worry about me," Chase countered, feeling a bit surprised and a bit irritated. "It's not your place to worry about me."
"That's what people do, Chase," Wilson replied, looking a bit exasperated. "They worry about each other."
Chase shrugged at that. "Well don't," he advised. "I'm not worth the effort." With that he made to head out the door, but a hand gripped his good arm, turning him back around.
Wilson's expression was grim and determination glinted in his eyes. "It's okay to let people care about you, Chase!" He stated.
"Look, I appreciate the sentiment," Chase interjected, because he was heading off whatever spiel Wilson had planned at the pass. "But the stuff I said before, just forget about it. I was tired and hurting and talking rubbish. Hell, I don't even remember what I said now, so don't let it bother you." Smiling brightly, Chase patted Wilson on the shoulder then strode for the door. He was relieved when the other man let him go. As he stepped onto the elevator, Chase made a vow not to let himself give in to the desire to bare his soul to anyone again. Even though he trusted Wilson to keep his confidences private, he regretted having said anything at all.
OoO
The next two days passed with relative ease. Vanessa drank but not to excess and Chase enjoyed their time together. At work Cameron found them a case and that meant House was caught up in the puzzle that was the patient, instead of musing over Chase. So he found himself relaxing at work and agreeing to go out for drinks this time with Cameron and Foreman after work.
He only fiddled with his glass of wine though, while trying to pay attention to what his companions were chatting about. Foreman, apparently, was dating one of the nurses. A red head from Pediatrics. Chase vaguely knew who she was. Pretty enough girl, although for some reason he wouldn't have thought Foreman would date a nurse. He seemed more pretentious than that to Chase.
After a time Foreman turned the tables onto Cameron and Chase joined in with teasing her and threatening to fix her up with the bartender, Joey. He looked like some mafia tough guy from a Hollywood movie. Cameron insisted he wasn't her type. It felt good to joke with them and to watch Cameron blushing. He felt almost normal. If it wasn't for the fact he felt so jittery, Chase might have truly enjoyed himself.
"What about you, Chase?" Cameron asked suddenly. "How are things with you and Vanessa?"
"Yeah, man," Foreman piped in. "Are we ever gonna meet her?"
Chase felt a flutter of panic and stood up, reaching for his coat. "I have to go," he replied, reaching into his pocket to toss a twenty on the table. "Next rounds on me. Enjoy." With that he nearly bolted out of the bar, ignoring Cameron calling after him.
Once in his car, Chase clutched the steering wheel until his knuckles showed white. He felt shaky and agitated and he was half tempted to get out of the car and run all the way home. But he knew he couldn't make it that far so he started the car and drove home. He was relieved to learn Vanessa was still out. He changed into running clothes and took off down the street. A part of Chase was tempted to run and run and never look back.
OoO
"Maybe we were wrong about Chase," Wilson commented, as he picked an overcooked piece of pepperoni off his slice of pizza. They were at House's apartment, downing pizza and beer while watching reruns of M.A.S.H.
"I'm never wrong," House announced, as he reached for his third slice.
Wilson sighed in exasperation. "He looks rested and pretty much back to normal. He's interactive again, he even went out for drinks with Cameron and Foreman."
House rolled his eyes. "That's because he knows we're watching him, so he's giving us what he thinks we want to see. In essence, he's lying to us."
"Or maybe he's actually trying to pull his life back together," Wilson countered, tossing the pizza aside. He had lost his appetite. "People try to do that you know. When they get depressed or hit a rut, they try to pull out of it and move on."
"Some people do," House allowed. "Not Chase."
Wilson knew he was going to regret asking, but he did so anyway. "Why not Chase?"
House grinned at his friend, knowing he had him hooked. "Because Chase loves wallowing in his guilt. He wants to suffocate himself in it."
"He's Catholic," Wilson replied. "That's what Catholics do. They don't do it as well as Jews though." He could swim without ever reaching shore in the ocean of his own guilt.
"They do it different," House countered, reaching for his beer and chugging it down in two gulps. He wiped his mouth on a napkin then patted his stomach in contentment. "Chase could write a book on guilt."
Wilson sighed. "He's too young to have that much guilt."
House shrugged. "Go figure. Bottom line is that it's eating him up from the inside. He has no choice but to do penance for his sins, and it's tearing him apart, piece by piece."
"And if you're right...what are you going to do about it?" Wilson queried. Even though he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. "Are you going to sweep up the pieces and put him back together, or are you going to kick them into the gutter?"
"Do you really have to ask?" House shot back, wearing a hurt expression. "I care about what happens to Chase."
Wilson snorted. "You care about not having to interview someone else for his position."
House leaned back in his chair and locked eyes with Wilson. "I care about not losing a good doctor to stupidity."
"You can't force Chase to be okay," Wilson warned his friend.
"You'd be surprised what I can do," House countered, reaching for the remote and turning up the volume, thereby rendering any further conversation mute.
OoO
Monday came and they had a new case. Only they'd just gotten started on the differential diagnosing part of things when Cuddy appeared in the doorway.
"I need to borrow Chase," she announced, gesturing for him to join her.
"What for?" Chase asked, even as he got up.
House blocked him from heading for the door, his eyes locked on Cuddy. "We have a patient to take care of," he stated. "Chase is busy."
Cuddy glared at House. "There was a bus accident on the freeway and their sending the victims here. I need Chase in the ER. You can have him back tomorrow." She moved to shove House out of the way then grabbed Chase by the arm to pull him out the door.
"I'd like to help out!" Cameron volunteered, rising to her feet.
"Thank you, but no," Cuddy replied firmly. "Chase will be sufficient. You have your own patient to save." With that she pushed Chase out the door and they were gone.
Cameron looked annoyed. "We could have helped," she complained.
House eyed her with amusement. "Do you know why she didn't want your help?" he offered.
"Are you psychic now and can read her thoughts?" Foreman interjected, looking amused.
"I want to know," Cameron stated, glaring at Foreman a bit. She then focused her attention on House.
He sat down across from her, leaning back in his chair and balancing his cane on his lap. "You'd be useless in a triage situation, which is basically what they're up against. You'd see someone crying and waste time comforting them. Or someone would be bleeding out and beyond saving but you would hold their hand offering false hope until their last breath, meanwhile someone else that you might have been able to save will have died as well."
Cameron was astonished and angry. "That's not true!" she protested, indignation clear in her tone. "I could do the job that needed to be done."
"No you couldn't," Foreman muttered. When she glared at him he shrugged. "Sorry, but House is right."
"Don't get on your high horse, Foreman," House chided. "Notice Cuddy didn't ask for your help either."
Foreman shrugged. "So what? I'll be the first to admit that in a life and death saving scenario, Chase is the best qualified."
House smacked a palm against the table. "Damnation, and Chase wasn't here to hear that proclamation. Wish I had recorded it for him. Dr. Foreman has admitted that Dr. Chase is better at something than he is."
"Kiss my ass," Foreman shot back, calmly.
"Not my type," House countered, without missing a beat. Then he was on his feet and limping over to the whiteboard. He grabbed a black marker and began to write.
OoO
Chase followed Cuddy to the ER. He had pulled a lot of shifts here since coming to PPTH. Mostly when they were short staffed or during emergency situations like this one. As they passed through the double doors he could already see an ambulance coming in. He moved forward to greet it but Cuddy held him back.
"We've got two other doctors who can take the first cases," she stated. "Go get into some scrubs, then come do your thing."
"Right," Chase replied, knowing that she meant for him to keep as many people alive as he could. He hurried off and grabbed a pair of scrubs. He changed in the men's room, chucking his clothes aside into a heap. Injured people wouldn't wait for him to be neat about it, then he hurried back out, accepting a pair of latex gloves from a nurse. "Where do I start?" he asked her, because there were already a half dozen gurneys.
She pointed to exam area one. Chase nodded and ran over, not reacting to the horrific sight of a young woman with half of her face mangled. Her good eye was open and she was focused on him so he put a smile on his face and went to work. Moving from patient to patient with the same smile glued to his face. Calling out orders, yanking off blood covered gloves only to snap on a new pair. He tuned out the cries of pain, the tears of those grieving over lost loved ones. He handled one emergency with a detached calmness, then scurried over to handle another. He signed off on as many people as he sent off to surgery or to the nurses who were handling the minor injuries.
Three hours later he took a two minute break to puke then pee, before guzzling a cup of coffee. Then he exchanged his bloody scrub top for a clean one, pulled on a fresh set of gloves and waded back out into the sea of broken humanity.
THE END...of part 10