REWIND...part 10
He didn't know what time it was when one of the nurses made him take a dinner break. It actually took Chase a moment of stepping back and staring around the area to realize that everyone had finally been taken care of. Not that his job was over, because he would be spending the night in the ICU watching over the critical care patients, of which there were going to be many. But, for the moment, he could allow himself a small break.
What he wanted to do was go for a run, but he knew he didn't have that much time, so he settled for what would do in a pinch. Chase peeled off the soiled scrub top he was wearing, leaving him in just a t-shirt and scrub bottoms, then he headed for the stairs. He ran down them to the ground floor, then back up to the top, then back down again before heading for the locker room. He had a change of clothes in his locker, so he snagged his boxer-briefs and t-shirt having already appropriated a clean set of scrubs.
The run up and down the stairs had pumped up his adrenaline enough that Chase still felt the rush of it. It would help get him through the long night. He started the shower, stepped in and washed up, scrubbed his hair clean, dried off and got dressed. He sat down to put on clean socks and grab his running shoes, his other pair were blood-spattered and he tossed them in the garbage.
After combing some gel through his hair, Chase brushed it away from his face and was content. All he had to do now was call Vanessa. He used the payphone in the lobby and he was glad when she didn't give him any argument about working the night through. She simply told him not to work to hard then signed off.
Heading back to the ER to make certain they didn't still need him, Chase ran into Cuddy. She looked limp and worn out, but she offered him a smile as she reached him.
"Good job today, Chase," she told him. "I really appreciate the help."
"Just doing my job," he replied, shrugging off her praise. Although a part of him felt pleased by it. Praise came to him so rarely, that sometimes he felt like he just about absorbed it into himself as if it might offer some absolution. But for what, that he wasn't sure of. Maybe it was something he wanted to throw into his father's face, only he couldn't do that anymore now that his father was dead.
Cuddy was eyeing him with concern. "Why don't you go home, Chase?" she offered. "I can get someone else to cover the ICU."
He shook his head, offering a tired smile. "You don't have anyone else, remember? Short staffed." He brightened his smile a bit and said, "I'll be fine. I'll catnap and such. Won't be the first time I've pulled such a long shift."
"Okay." Cuddy gave in gracefully. "But you're home by noon tomorrow, no arguments." She shook a finger at him to make him know she was serious.
"I'll be happy to go home by then," Chase promised. And he meant it. He could already feel fatigue dragging him down. "Well, I'm going to go check where they need me," he said, stepping around her and heading into the ER. They sent him straight up to ICU and Chase made his rounds of all the patients, putting off the pediatric section for the moment.
One of the nurses handed him a mug of soup with orders to sit down and eat. So Chase sat in the lounge for a few minutes, sipping at the soup. He wasn't really hungry but he knew he needed to fuel his body. He got out of having to finish it by a code. He took care of that then made his way to pediatrics. There was one patient from the ER he wanted to see.
The kid's name was Tommy and he was eight years old. He and his mother had both been hurt in the accident, and his mother was down the hallway, clinging to life. She was the one who had coded and Chase had been determined to bring her back. But it wasn't going to be easy keeping her alive. He would do what he could though. At the very least until Tommy's father could arrive from Europe. One of the nurses had hunted him down and called him, but it would be at least twenty-four hours before he would arrive.
Running his fingers through his hair, Chase huffed out a breath, mentally preparing himself to step into the room. Tommy was critical but holding his own, but he looked tiny, even in the smaller beds here. Chase plastered a smile on his face as he moved to his bedside, because he could see Tommy watching him. "You should be sleeping," Chase said to him, as he checked all the monitors. Everything looked fine which was a relief.
"I'm scared," Tommy whispered, and his dark eyes welled up with tears. A tiny fist, the one without the IV in it, scrubbed at them.
"I know you're scared," Chase replied, grabbing a chair and pulling it over beside the bed. He sat down then told a story of his own. "I was five the first time I had to go in hospital and I was terrified."
Tommy blinked hard, wiped away the rest of his tears then asked, "What were you in for?"
Chase let the memory of that time drift back over him "I hurt my head."
"How'd you do that?" Tommy looked intrigued.
"Fell down the stairs." Chase didn't add that it was because he'd been running away from his father. From the anger he knew would be coming his way after spilling his juice on his father's papers. He wasn't supposed to be in the office, but as a kid he liked sitting in his father's chair to feel closer to him. "I tripped on the top step and fell all the way to the bottom. It was a good thing I had a hard head."
Tommy nodded, his face a bit pinched and Chase knew he was hurting a bit. "You've got a lot of hair so that had to help," he offered.
Chase chuckled at that. "I suppose it did," he allowed. Rising from the chair he checked Tommy's chart. He could have a topper on his pain meds, so Chase buzzed the nurse. She came in quickly and he pointed to the chart. She disappeared and was back with a syringe in a heartbeat. Chase took it from her and injected the IV himself. He watched Tommy's face, watching his expression smooth out. "Feel better?" he asked.
"Yeah," Tommy replied, his eyelids drooping a bit.
"I'll be back to check on you later," Chase said, patting the thin shoulder.
Tommy moved surprisingly fast and gripped his hand. "Please don't go!" he begged, his lower lip trembling. "I'm scared by myself. I want my mom!"
Chase understood that feeling all too well. "She's close by getting better," he replied, wincing a bit at the fib. But he was hoping it was the truth and that Tommy's mother was a fighter. "But I'll stay for a bit," he added, dropping back down into the chair. Tommy still had a death grip on his hand.
"Would you sing to me?" Tommy asked, his eyes wide now as if fighting sleep.
"Sing to you?" Chase was surprised by the request. It wasn't one he got often. Actually, it wasn't one he got ever.
But Tommy was nodding. "Mom always sings me to sleep. Do you know the turtle song?"
Chase shook his head. "Afraid I don't, but I do know something you might like," he allowed. "Close your eyes," he instructed. When Tommy did, Chase began to sing.
OoO
Cameron was beyond ready to go home. It had been a long day, made longer by the fact that their patient kept presenting new symptoms before they could discover the cause of the old ones. Which made House both cranky and excited. The man did love his puzzles. But he loved to sit at his desk, listening to music and pondering, while she and Foreman did all the footwork. And Chase, when he was there. Thinking about Chase sent Cameron off to ICU to check on him on her way out.
She'd been worried about him for a while now. She cared about Chase. They had worked together the longest and she found him to be a fascinating man, when she took the time to think about him. She'd been so wrapped up in her feelings for House that she seldom found time to focus on anyone else. Although she had focused on Chase long enough to sleep with him. When the itch hit her and Kalvin's jibes had pushed her into taking Meth to loosen up, Cameron hadn't hesitated to call Chase. He was the one who had shown the most concern for her after the blood spray, and she knew that she could manipulate him into sleeping with her, and that he would stop if she changed her mind. The sex had been good. Great in fact, but the day after had been awkward. Cameron had been glad when Chase had handled things with a maturity she hadn't expected, or been capable of in that moment.
So she felt a connection to him and she worried about the fact that he'd become more withdrawn of late. She thought maybe he'd like to talk about it, or about anything. Or maybe she was the one seeking out comfort. Say what you would about Chase, but he wasn't judgmental of people. Maybe it was because he didn't want to make waves, but he didn't judge her and find her wanting and that mattered to Cameron.
Making her way to the front desk of ICU, Cameron asked about Chase and was directed to the pediatric section. Once there she spotted him through the glass walls. Making her way over to the room, she stopped when she heard singing. Easing quietly over to the doorway, Cameron went still and simply listened.
The song sounded like a lullaby and she was stunned to realize that Chase could sing. Really sing. His voice as deep and accented when he sang as when he spoke, just as rich and lyrical, but softer now and with a sweet purity that made her heart ache a bit. Looking at Chase, Cameron saw that his eyes were closed as he sang, and that one hand was caught in the grip of the patient. A slack grip and glancing at the young boy, Cameron could see he was asleep.
Apparently Chase realized that too because he ended the song abruptly and disentangled his hand before standing up. He then froze as he noticed Cameron in the doorway. Moving to confront her, Chase asked, "How long have you been here?"
"Long enough to hear you sing," Cameron replied. She grabbed his forearm and drew him out into the corridor so they wouldn't wake the boy. "You have a beautiful voice, Chase," Cameron complimented him. "I didn't know you could sing. I didn't recognize the song though." She rambled on, barely taking a breath, wanting to get all her thoughts out before he cut her off. Which was what Chase was fond of doing. Deflecting everything. Nobody did that better, not even House.
"My mother used to sing it to me when I was little," Chase whispered, one hand lifting so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. He looked like he might say more when bells went off. The boy was coding.
Cameron watched as Chase went pale, then he was whirling around, running back to the boy's side and shouting orders even as he was checking the monitors. Moving out of the way so the nurses could get in to help, Cameron kept her gaze on Chase. Until he glanced up at her suddenly, his eyes narrowed and filled with something she couldn't identify. Pain or anger or maybe sadness. Whatever it was, it felt achingly private and Cameron found herself turning away, feeling like she was watching something almost intimate. She left Chase to do his work.
OoO
Chase hadn't expected Tommy to code. He'd been doing fine. He must have missed something. He should have been paying better attention instead of singing stupid lullaby's. Watching Tommy's BP drop, Chase yanked back the sheet and tapped the boy's belly. It was rigid. "He's bleeding out!" he shouted. "Call the OR." The nurses were on the move and unhooking bags and getting the bed rolling even as Chase shouted his orders. Then they were on the run to the elevator, and Chase found himself whispering a prayer.
Two hours later, Tommy was out of surgery and holding his own. Chase didn't go back in his room. He went into the nearest men's room and puked until his throat felt raw. Then he made his way to the locker room and brushed his teeth. He was shaking and pale and he splashed his face with water and combed his fingers through his hair, trying to make himself presentable. Then he went back to the ICU and sat with Tommy's mother.
He didn't hold her hand, but he did pray.
OoO
The next day passed in a blur, then Chase found himself being driven home by Wilson. He stumbled into the house, wondering if he remembered to thank the other man for the ride, then he made it up the stairs and into the bedroom. Vanessa wasn't home and for that he was grateful. Doing nothing more than kick off his shoes, Chase did a faceplant onto the bed and was instantly asleep.
He slept for seven hours, coming awake to a hand on his face. Vanessa asking him if he was all right and he managed to come awake enough to explain that he was just tired. He had to pee so he stumbled into the bathroom, then he realized he felt sweaty and gritty so he took a quick shower and when he stepped back into the bedroom, Vanessa was there with the covers pulled back, guiding him over to lay down. She covered him up then snuggled in beside him, telling Chase to have sweet dreams.
He hoped he would as he drifted back to sleep.
When he came awake again, Vanessa was still sleeping. Chase felt jittery and jumpy and a bit dizzy. He realized he couldn't remember the last time he ate so as soon as he pulled on running clothes and tied on his sneakers, he went to the kitchen. He ate a banana and drank some Gatorade, then he went for a run. He was a bit shaky when he got back, but the anxiety had faded. He made himself eat some toast and finish off the Gatorade before heading for the shower.
Vanessa was awake when he came out.
"I took the day off," she told him. "I've missed you."
"Missed you too," Chase replied, letting her draw him down to the bed. They were content to kiss and touch each other for a time, then they made love with a frenzy that left Chase feeling a bit dizzy. He felt Vanessa curling around him, urging him to sleep, and he gave in to the darkness, letting it carry him away.
He spent the next day and a half sleeping, running and making love with Vanessa. There was a sense of desperation in the way she touched and kissed him, and Chase was half tempted to ask if something was wrong. But everything finally felt right between them, so he said nothing. He didn't want to mess things up the way he usually managed to do.
That night, after Vanessa fell asleep, Chase went for a long run. He came back and ate something, took a shower and a sleeping pill and went to bed. He woke up early, basically repeated the routine, only skipping the sleeping pill and this time getting dressed for work. He thought about Tommy as he did his tie, wondering if he should call again to check on them. He had called twice yesterday to learn that mother and son were holding their own, and Tommy's dad had made it there.
He decided not to call again. It wasn't something he'd ever done before anyway, but something had felt unfinished this time and the need to know had niggled at him. But he would be at work soon and could check after Tommy once he got there. Finishing up with his tie, Chase slipped on a jacket, brushed a kiss to Vanessa's cheek and slipped out the door.
Once at the hospital, Chase dropped his messenger bag off in the corner and set about making coffee. Once he had a cup poured he would slip off to the ICU for a few minutes, only it turned out he didn't have to make the trip.
"Welcome back, Chase," Cameron said in greeting, as she stepped into the conference room. "You look better."
"Sleep will do that to you," he replied, then he held up a mug. "Coffee?"
She nodded. "Please. Isn't it great news about Tommy and his mother?" Cameron asked, as she joined Chase at the counter.
He poured her a mug, handed it off to her then asked, "What do you mean?" Sudden fear twisted his insides into knots, but they unraveled as Cameron replied.
"They're both doing well and have been moved to regular rooms just this morning." Cameron was smiling as she added sugar to her mug. "I checked on my way in. I would have thought you'd have done the same."
"They're not my patients any longer," Chase countered, keeping his tone neutral. But the relief washed over him in waves, knowing that Tommy was going to be all right. He hadn't screwed things up this time. Or maybe it was more a point of God fixing his mistake before someone else suffered for it. Whatever it was, Chase was grateful and he was going to let it go at that.
Cameron frowned at him. "Doesn't mean you can't ask about them," she countered.
Chase didn't reply as he sat down at the table. But when Cameron joined him he did ask, "How did it go with the case you had?"
"We're still on it," Cameron replied, exhaling a bit of a sigh. "We still haven't figured out what's causing her original symptoms and every time we turn around she has another one."
"Catch me up," Chase requested, knowing that House would expect him to be up to date. So he listened as Cameron outlined the symptoms, then explained the patient history. A thirty-five year old stylist that co-owned a salon with her, bi-sexual, male partner. A partner she was sleeping with. Chase's eyebrows rose at that fact. "Must be an interesting relationship."
Cameron made a face. "Or something."
A thought occurred to Chase, something he needed to talk to Cameron about. "Do me a favor, would you?" he began, and when she looked at him in surprise he finished in a rush, "Don't tell House about me singing. He's got enough stuff to use as ammunition against me."
"Sure, I won't tell him," Cameron replied, frowning a bit. She looked like she had more to say but House entered at that moment, arguing with Foreman.
Chase was glad to end the conversation and he watched his colleagues with amusement. Foreman looked pissed. He soon found out why.
Confronting House by stepping in front of him and halting his progression to the counter, Foreman demanded, "Why do I have to be the one to go to the hair salon? Why don't you send Cameron?"
"Cause she's a girl and would spend all day talking about girly things like hair and nails," House replied, without missing a bit. Then he seemed to notice Chase was there and he smirked, stabbing a finger in his direction. "Tell you what, you can take goldilocks with you, since he finally decided to come back to work. Just don't let him get his nails done."
"You don't need both of us to go," Foreman shot back, looking frustrated.
House shrugged. "Probably not, but I don't need you both here at the moment either," he stated. "Cameron can check on Mrs. what'shername..."
Obligingly, Cameron supplied the actual name. "Ms. Silversmith."
"Whatever," House rolled his eyes. "Just go find us a reason for what ails her."
"Fine!" Foreman groused, his eyes falling on Chase. "Let's go, we'll stop for coffee on the way."
Chase stood, abandoning his freshly brewed mug of the stuff and followed Foreman out. He didn't bother to acknowledge House since the man seemed willing to let him go without further digs. Half an hour later, he and Foreman were at the salon. It reminded Chase of something that would be dramatized in a Hollywood movie. All sleek counters and neon lights and fast talking stylist with over the top personalities. Which included the patient's partner, Guy Roush. He was all black hair and tanned skin and flamboyant style.
He also made Chase uncomfortable by fawning all over him the minute they walked into the place.
"Love the color," Guy cooed, reaching out to touch Chase's hair. "It's natural, isn't it?"
"Um, yeah," Chase replied, trying to ignore the fact that Foreman's eyes were rolling hard enough to about pop out of his head. "Look, I'm Dr. Chase and we're working on your partner's case."
Guy assumed a serious expression. "Poor Lila, how's she doing?" he asked.
Foreman did another eye roll and replied, "Not great. Which is why we're here. Have you introduced any new products recently? Anything that Lila might have had a bad reaction to?"
"Not that I can think of," Guy replied, then he hesitated, looking thoughtful. "There was the dye that gave her a rash. She wore gloves during the coloring of course, but just touching the client's hair after seemed to bother her skin. Ugly rash too, all pink then it got all puss-y and gross." He shuddered for effect before turning his attention back to Chase. "Don't ever let any dyes touch your fabulous hair. By the way, you single?"
"No," Chase replied, then asked, "Can you show us the dye?"
Guy grinned. "Sure thing, beautiful. Right this way." He made a sweeping gesture with one hand for Chase and Foreman to proceed him towards the back.
Foreman went first, still rolling his eyes.
Chase knew better than to respond to Guy's comments. It wasn't the first time a gay man had flirted with him, so he simply followed after Foreman then swallowed a yelp when he felt fingers pinching his ass. He saw Foreman turn back and frown at him, but Chase kept a neutral expression on his face and swept past him. No way was he going to give Foreman, and thereby House, any more ammunition against him. So he settled for ignoring Guy, who kept staring at him, letting Foreman do the talking from this point on.
Ten minutes later they were back in the car with a sample of the dye, which was supposed to be made with all natural ingredients. Not surprisingly, Foreman felt the need to tease Chase all the way back to the Hospital.
"What pretty pretty hair you have, beautiful," Foreman drawled. "Don't ever dye it, it's just too pretty."
"You do that very well," Chase deadpanned, stopping Foreman in his tracks. It was almost pathetically easy to derail people. You just had to not react to them and it took all the wind out of their sails. But Chase knew the torment had just begun. "You're going to tell House about what happened, aren't you?"
Foreman nodded, a big grin splitting his face. "You betcha. Gotta get my rec somehow."
Chase was quiet for a moment, considering. "Anything you can think of I can bribe you with?"
"Maybe," Foreman allowed. "House has me down for his clinic hours tomorrow and I've got a date."
"I'll do them," Chase promised. Anything to keep House from harassing him for months about his hair. The Goldilock comments were bad enough, but at least they weren't constant.
House was waiting for them when they returned, finding the hair dye detail interesting and sending Cameron off with it for testing. He then sent Foreman and Chase to visit the patient and ask her more detailed questions about her rash.
Chase was glad to be off and doing something more hands on productive. It kept his mind off the fact that he was starting to feel jittery again, and kept him too busy to give in to his desire to make a side trip to check on Tommy. The kid was no longer his patient and Chase needed to stay detached, but sometimes that was easier said than done. So he put all his focus on Lila Silversmith, asking all the right questions about the rash, and getting some interesting answers. Until she started gagging and, without warning, projectile vomited all over Chase's shirt.
Which he didn't have time to deal with right away since Lila needed to be intubated. Once they had her breathing again, Foreman headed off to update House and Chase headed for the locker room to shower and change. He was vomit from his shirt to his shoes, including his lab coat, and once he stripped them off he simply shoved them into a bag to be destroyed. The shower actually felt good, and he had to fight the urge to linger under the hot spray. He did indulge himself for a few minutes though, and was only half dressed by the time Foreman came looking for him.
Chase pretended not to notice Foreman staring at him as he pulled on his shirt. "So what did House say?" he asked, as a distraction.
"He said run more tests, which Cameron is now doing," Foreman replied, then he went back to staring at Chase. "Man, you need to put some flesh on your bones," he stated. "I can count your damn ribs."
"And that's your concern, why?" Chase shot back, as he finished buttoning his shirt and went about tucking it into his pants. He felt his chest tighten as panic fluttered over him. No one was supposed to notice anything, no one was supposed to be paying attention and Chase could feel his heart start thudding hard against said ribs.
Foreman had the grace to shrug. "Whatever, man. Just making an observation. By the way, House wants you to help Cameron."
Chase nodded as he pulled on a clean lab coat. "Fine." He then went to the mirror to brush his damp hair back, then he was ready to leave, which he did without a backwards glance at Foreman. He joined Cameron in the lab and helped her with the samples. They ran a multitude of tests, some of them taking time to get the results and Chase told Cameron to head off when she said she wanted to run out for lunch.
It was late afternoon when they all reconvened in the conference room to discuss the results. Cameron had brought back a cheese cake which House told her to dole out, not being stingy with the size of each piece. Chase declined a piece until Foreman called him on it.
"You need to eat the whole damn cake to put some flesh back on your skinny white ass, man," Foreman stated, shaking his head at Chase. "Lord knows you can afford the calories and then some."
"Jealous?" Chase shot back, making a show of taking a big bite, and instantly regretting it when his stomach recoiled. But he took a gulp of his coffee to wash it down and keep it there.
Foreman snorted. "Jealous of what?"
House couldn't not intervene at this point. "Because you have a fat ass and he doesn't," he stated, looking almost gleeful.
"Whiteboy doesn't have an ass," Foreman shot back, but he looked a bit disgruntled before taking a bite of his own slice of dessert.
"Can we get back on subject?" Cameron interjected.
Chase felt grateful to her because House had been watching him with rapt attention and it was starting to make him nervous.
House took a huge bite of his cheesecake, taking time to savor it, then he said, "I know what's wrong." He grinned at the surprise on their faces, took a moment to explain, then sent them off to start treatment.
Chase was the first one out the door, leaving his slice behind. He didn't see the way House studied his retreating form, or the fact that he later stared at Chase's mostly untouched cheesecake, with a mixed expression of concern and anger. If he had been aware, he would have been worried.
OoO
House cornered Wilson in the cafeteria during supper hour. He sat down, dropping his plate with his sandwich onto the table, then settling himself into his chair. "Have you seen Chase eat?"
"Is that a trick question?" Wilson countered.
"Probably," House allowed, before taking a bite of his Rueben. "But answer it anyway." This said around a mouthful of food.
Wilson frowned at him, pushing his own empty plate aside. "I'm not sure what you're looking for. I mean, do you want to know if he's a neat or messy eater?"
House snorted, swallowed, then washed down the bite with a swallow of soda. "I'm asking if you see him eat, here at the hospital."
"We have lunch on occasion, or did a few times. He eats." Wilson looked confused.
"Does he eat a lot?" House prompted.
Wilson narrowed his gaze at him. "What's going on?"
House sighed. "Just answer the question. Does he eat a lot?"
"I wasn't really paying attention," Wilson replied, frowning in concentration as if trying to remember. "Not a lot a lot, I guess."
"That's what I figured," House replied, before taking another bite of his sandwich. He was used to seeing Chase drink a lot of coffee, or chew on things, including candy and such. But he couldn't recall the Aussie ever really tucking into a meal. Of course it wasn't as if they had meals together or anything, but thinking back, House realized it was plain as day that Chase was steadily losing weight. He had noticed it a time or two, but had put it down to stress. Between the Vogler thing, his father's death and the mistake made with Kayla, Chase had been under duress for months. Losing some weight wasn't unexpected. But for Foreman to comment on it, that had to mean something and House was going to find out what.
Pushing back his chair he gathered his sandwich and made to leave. "Thanks for your...help," House taunted, smirking at Wilson.
Wilson sighed. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"
"No." House grinned and walked away, but the smile faded as he walked out the door.
OoO
Chase was tired and looking forward to going home. He wanted to go for a run, then fall into bed and sleep. Preferably for a week, not that he'd ever be able to do that, but it sounded good in theory. He was in the elevator, heading for the diagnostic floor so he could grab his bag, when he got paged. By House. Heaving a sigh of resignation, Chase stepped off the elevator and made his way to his boss's office.
"You wanted to see me?" he asked, stepping into the room, and he was a bit surprised Wilson was there, sitting off in the corner. Chase nodded to him then focused on House. The sooner he dealt with whatever the man wanted, the sooner he could get out of here.
"Hence the page," House replied, and there was a smirk on his face, but it was devoid of humor. He had his cane in his right hand and he used it as a pointer, tapping the end on an object that rested on the floor. "Not the most accurate we could find, but the other scales were too big and bulky to steal without anyone noticing. It'll do in a pinch however," he drawled, then his eyes locked on Chase's face as he ordered, "Step on."
Chase felt himself grow pale, fear erupting from deep inside him and the ensuing panic made him dizzy enough to have to clutch the edge of House's desk to stay on his feet. He blinked hard to bring the digital scale back into focus as he stared at it, and at the tip of House's cane that was still tapping it. The sound of each tap was loud and echoed in his ears.
Wilson seemed to notice Chase's condition and he was on his feet and by his side, his voice soft with concern. "Do you want to sit for a minute?" he asked.
"No," Chase whispered, then he took a deep breath and expelled some of the dizziness along with his exhale. Swallowing hard and mustering up his courage, Chase faced House. "What's going on?" he asked, even though it was pretty clear that House had taken Foreman's earlier comments about him to heart.
"You've lost weight and I want to know how much," House replied, his gaze holding Chase's without wavering. "So step up." He tapped the scale again.
Chase shook his head. "Whether or not I've lost weight is none of your damn business!" he shot back.
House's expression grew grim. "It's my business because you work for me," he replied. "I can't have sick doctors doing doctoring stuff. Makes me look bad."
"Shut up," Wilson interjected, and he was glaring at House. He then looked at Chase. "We're just trying to help," he offered.
"I don't need your help!" Chase snapped, and he could feel himself losing control of everything and it made him feel sick. The walls of the office were mostly glass, but they felt like they were closing in on him.
House was on his feet. He tapped one foot on the scale to make a zero appear, then he looked at Chase and ordered, "Get on the scale. Now."
Chase swallowed hard, forcing back the bile that was trying to pool in his throat and choke him. He shook his head and tried to back away, but Wilson was right behind him. "No," he repeated. "I won't."
That's when House lunged at him, fingers gripping his shirt and ripping it open. The action stunned Chase to the point where he froze, unresponsive to the fingers that were now running over his exposed ribs. He still didn't move when House gripped his arm and studied his wrist. It wasn't until House released him and stepped away that Chase was able to attempt to rebutton his shirt with shaky hands, only to realize most of the buttons were now missing. "You ruined my shirt," was the first thing out of his mouth.
"I'll buy you a new one," House replied. "One that actually matches your tie." He dropped back down into his chair then nodded at the scale. "Get on," he ordered once more.
"No," Chase whispered, because he had to stand his ground.
But Wilson was still beside him, nudging him forward. "We've seen the proof, Chase. Just get on the scale and we'll help you deal with this."
Chase felt his chest tighten with panic as he asked, "With what?" Even though he didn't want to hear the response. Because if they said it then his secret was out.
"You're anorexic," House announced.
Hysterical laughter bubbled out of Chase because that was ridiculous. He wasn't anorexic, he ate. House was wrong for once and Chase would prove it to him. "I'm not," he said, even as he stepped on the scale. He watched the numbers blur for a moment then settle and what he saw made him feel a bit sick because it couldn't be true. He ate every day, every meal. He wasn't anorexic.
House had seen the numbers too. "Twenty plus pounds underweight. I'll give you a few pounds to the good though, since you weren't exactly ideal weight to begin with."
"Why don't you pick on Cameron!" Chase suddenly snarled, feeling the need to defend himself. He stepped off the fucking scale and rounded on House. "She's a fucking toothpick! Go harass her and leave me alone!"
"Cameron's not anorexic," House replied. "You are. And we're going to help you fix that."
Chase shook his head, resisting the urge to clap his hands over his ears and scream so he wouldn't have to listen to this. "I don't need your help. I don't need fixing!"
Wilson started to reply to that when Chase's pager went off. He grabbed it and was surprised to see Vanessa's name with the message I'm Sorry. "I have to go," Chase stated, already turning and running for the door. He didn't know if House or Wilson tried to follow, but he took the stairs just to be sure. He'd left his coat and bag in the office but that didn't matter. Chase was out the door and in his car and heading for home in no time. As he drove he tried to call Vanessa on his cell. No answer. He tried over and over again with no answer and by the time he reached the house he was practically in a full blown panic.
Running for the door, Chase fumbled with his keys. He unlocked it and bolted inside, calling Vanessa's name. No reply. Running up the stairs, Chase was almost stumbling in his haste to reach the bedroom. His insides went cold when he spotted Vanessa's form on the floor. Beside her was a pool of vomit and Chase had a flashback to his mother. It rocked him hard enough to make him dizzy, sending him to his knees beside Vanessa. He had to put his head down for a moment to clear it, even as he reached out to check Vanessa's pulse. Nothing. Chase snapped himself into focus, starting compressions with one hand even as he dialed 911 with the other. He gave them the address and other information needed then he tossed the phone and started two handed compressions. He didn't stop until the ambulance arrived.
He heard them say she was breathing as they loaded her into the ambulance. The EMT asked him questions and Chase was pretty sure he answered them as they raced to the hospital with sirens wailing. He stayed out of the way when they got there, but followed close behind until they reached the emergency room. Then hands pulled him back into the waiting area and Chase recognized one of the nurses. He felt her fussing over him and only then realized he was still wearing the ruined shirt and that she was buttoning up his lab coat to cover him. He thought he thanked her before pulling away to pace.
It wasn't long before he heard the alarms go off, and he knew Vanessa was coding. Chase moved to the open doors so he could hear what was being said. He reached them as she flatlined and he closed his eyes, not needing to see them to know what they were doing. Abruptly the sound stopped. Someone had turned off the monitor. Chase listened for it, the doctor calling the time of death. Instinctively he checked his own watch, the hospital clock was a minute slow. Or he was fast. It didn't matter.
Backing away until he hit a wall, Chase felt his legs turn to jello. He slid down till he was sitting. He didn't hear the nurse call his name.
He didn't hear her make a call to House.
THE END...of part 10