REWIND...part 12
The worst thing about being a patient in the hospital was how it made a person lose track of time. Chase hated not being able to keep tabs on the hour, or even the day really, without having to ask someone. He was just about to question Amy again when Foreman walked into the room.
"How's it going?" he asked, even as he grabbed for Chase's chart and studied it.
"What are you doing here?" Chase countered, feeling a bit suspicious. He figured House must have sent Foreman to see him for a reason.
Foreman finished with the chart and put it back before moving to Chase's side. "Came to check on you," he replied. "That okay with you?"
Chase shrugged. Truthfully, it didn't really matter. He just wasn't in the mood for mind games. "Whatever."
"Word to the wise?" Foreman looked serious.
"Meaning?" Chase prompted.
Foreman locked eyes with Chase. "Start eating, man. Don't be stupid about this. If you ever want to be released, you need to eat."
Anger flared in Chase. It seemed to be the only real emotion he could scrounge up lately. "I'm eating!" he snapped.
"Not according to your chart." Foreman shoved his hands in his pants pocket and shook his head. "I'm really sorry about Vanessa. But you've got to stop beating yourself up over shit you can't control."
"You don't even know what you're talking about." Chase felt the anger ebb away. Foreman's ignorance wasn't worth getting angry over. Nothing was worth it anymore. He just wanted to get out of here and go back to work. He wanted what passed for normal in his life.
It was Foreman's turn to get angry, and his dark eyes glared at Chase. "I know that you're a mess right now. I'm just saying that you need to do whatever it takes to get yourself healthy again. Work through whatever issues you have and move on."
Chase stifled the desire to laugh. What Foreman was saying wasn't in the least bit funny, but it was humorous that he was bothering to say it at all. They weren't friends. They were barely colleagues. He didn't want sympathy from Foreman, or some warped form of tough love. "Tell House to release me and I'll move on just fine," he stated.
"Why did you stop eating?" Foreman hurled the question at Chase, almost like an accusation.
"I haven't," Chase replied, and he realized that Foreman was sincerely pissed at him. It didn't make sense, but he would play along to see where this led.
Rubbing a hand over his bald head, Foreman paced a few steps, as if fighting to control whatever reaction he was about to have. After a moment he paced back over to Chase and his exasperation was reflected in his eyes and in his voice. "You can't tell me you didn't notice you were losing weight, or that your clothes didn't fit any more."
Chase shrugged again. "You didn't notice anything," he pointed out, and he felt like drawing a line in the air when Foreman flinched in reaction. Score one for team Chase. But he let the guy off the hook. "I wouldn't expect you to pay attention to me," he said quietly.
"I should have noticed," Foreman shot back. "But you're damn good at hiding things, Chase. It's what you do. You hide in plain sight sometimes."
"I don't hide," Chase argued, even though it was a moot point. He was tired of this conversation and made a show of curling up on his side and closing his eyes.
Foreman got the hint. "I'll let you get some rest. We can talk more later."
Chase didn't respond, and he was pretty sure Foreman was just being polite and he was off the hook. They wouldn't talk about this ever again. He was just drifting off to sleep when he heard soft footsteps approaching. He blinked his eyes open and found Wilson smiling at him. "Hey," Chase drawled, shifting around to sit up. Wilson was someone he actual did want to talk too. House had made arrangements for both of them that he had no business doing. Chase wanted to clear things up between them.
"How are you feeling?" Wilson asked, as he reached out to pull the table tray over. He set a can of vanilla ensure on it then pushed it over Chase's lap."
"I hate those things," Chase complained, before he could stop himself. But damned if the stuff didn't taste like liquid chalk.
Wilson looked sympathetic, but he didn't take the can away. "Hold your nose," he advised, with a grin.
Chase grimaced. He would pretty much beg to get out of drinking that crap. "How about we trade in the chalk for a banana and Gatorade?"
"You know the answer to that one, Chase," Wilson countered, as he grabbed a chair and sat down beside the bed. "You should have bartered for a milk shake. I might have given you that one."
"I'm sorry about what House did," Chase blurted out, in an attempt to distract them both from the can of Ensure.
Wilson nodded, but then he was grabbing the can and thrusting it into Chase's hand. "Drink some of it, then we'll talk."
Since he had no doubt that Wilson could out stubborn him at the moment, Chase took a couple of sips of the liquid. He gagged on it but didn't puke, but he noticed Wilson had an emesis basin ready for him. After a moment, Chase waved it away. "I'd rather drink liquid beets," he announced, putting the can back on the tray and shoving the table away from him. "And I hate beets."
"I'll see if I can find you something more palatable," Wilson allowed. He put the emesis basin aside and sat back down. "Don't apologize for House," he stated. "And if I didn't want to do it, I wouldn't."
"Wouldn't you?" The question was out before Chase could stop it. He had to admit he was curious as to the answer. From his observations, House ran roughshod over Wilson the same way he did everyone else. Maybe more so, because Chase knew that House did consider Wilson a friend. He didn't imagine it was an easy position to be in. Not that he would ever know. House would never be anything but his boss and a pain in Chase's proverbial ass.
Wilson chuckled, looking genuinely amused. "I've some how managed to maintain my free will. At least when it comes to House." For a moment he looked rueful.
Chase wasn't sure what Wilson was thinking in that moment, and he wasn't about to ask. He had a keen respect for a person's right to privacy. "You don't have to stay with me," he said quietly. "I really don't need a babysitter."
"Sure you do." Wilson's reply was firm. "It's hard to break a bad habit, Chase. All the more so when you're not even aware of what you're doing. Trust me on that one." The rueful look was back.
"Are you really still sleeping on House's couch?" It seemed a safe enough question to ask, and it took the focus off himself.
Wilson nodded. "Sadly, I am. So staying with you is actually helping me out."
Chase frowned at that. Wilson was a respected Oncologist; he had to be making good money. He had tenure and was a member of the board. So he couldn't help asking, "Why don't you move to a hotel or something?"
"Three ex-wives," Wilson replied, without missing a beat.
"Alimony must be a bitch." Chase almost found himself feeling sorry for Wilson for that one. Only he realized Wilson's bad habit to break was getting married over and over again then cheating on his wives. He was asking to be caught and divorced.
Wilson sighed then nodded. "The paycheck only stretches so far."
Exhaustion was niggling at Chase, but he fought against it. He was tired of being tired and he wanted to get at least one thing settled. To feel as if he might be in control of at least something in his life. "There's a lot of rooms at the house," he said. "You're welcome to one. But I was serious about not needing a baby sitter."
"I know you are." Wilson leaned forward, locking eyes with Chase. "But so was I. You need help, Chase."
"Why do you want to help?" His curiosity about that was getting the better of him.
Rising to his feet, Wilson put the chair back against the wall. "Let's just say I've got nothing better to do for now and leave it at that. That way we can both spin it to be whatever it needs to be."
The gist of the message Wilson was trying to give filtered through to Chase. They could each decide whatever reason worked best for them. He could live with that. He was good at pretending. "Is there a time limit? Days? Weeks? Months?" He didn't really want to do this, to have Wilson move in with him, but he knew he wouldn't get out of it and he was pragmatic enough not to beat a dead horse.
"We'll play it by ear." Wilson was smiling again. "House scheduled you to see Dr. Burns."
"Last time I was scheduled to see Dr. Bradley." Not that he cared, he was just surprised.
Wilson nodded. "House doesn't like Bradley and don't ask me why because I don't know and I prefer it that way."
Chase had a feeling it was best not to know. "When?" he asked.
"Five minutes." Wilson glanced at his watch then headed for the door. "I'll check in on you later."
"Sure," Chase replied. The moment Wilson was gone he considered ripping out his IV and making a run for it. Only he knew House had the nurses keeping an eye on him so he wouldn't even get out the door. He was going to have to suck it up and talk to Burns. Which wouldn't be the end of the world. He was good at stories, he'd just tell her what she wanted to hear.
Five minutes on the dot, Dr. Burns entered the room smiling. "How are you today, Dr. Chase?" she asked, in a cheery tone.
Which immediately set him on edge. He plastered a smile on his face, getting the reaction he was used to. She was charmed by something so decidedly superficial. Something Chase had come to learn early on. He'd grown into his looks, taking after his mother, and she had told him it was easy to make people see only what was on the outside. To take him at face value, which came in handy throughout his life time. He used it now, thickening his accent as he greeted her. "I guess I'm doing all right." He knew that telling her he was fine would send out the wrong signals. He would just have to watch her and play her. He could do that with an ease born of a lifetime of practice. He'd spent most of his teen years learning to watch for his mother's moods and act accordingly to keep his life as peaceful as possible.
"First off, let me say that I'm sorry for your loss." As she spoke, Burns grabbed the chair and pulled it over to the bed. She sat down, smoothing her skirt over he legs, then focusing on him with a look of sympathy in her eyes. No doubt a much practiced effect. "I hope that I can help you deal with your grief."
"Sure." Chase didn't bother to tell her he wasn't grieving. He figured that would only work against him. Normal people would be grieving and all.
Settling the clip board she'd brought with her, into her lap, Burns nodded. "Let's start with Vanessa, shall we?"
Chase didn't want to do this, which meant figuring a way to get around it. There was nothing to talk about. Vanessa was dead. End of story. But what he said was, "I don't think I'm ready to talk about it. Maybe after the funeral. I need some time to adjust to everything."
"Of course you do." Burns was nodding again, then she scribbled something on the note pad that was attached to the clip board. "Let's talk about your illness then and what we can do about making you better."
"I'm not sick." The words were a bit sharp and Chase was getting tired of saying it.
Burns had a pair of glasses tucked in her hair and she pulled them down and settled them on her nose. Then she reached under her note pad and pulled out a pamphlet. She held it out to Chase. "I want you to read this. It explains about anorexia --"
He cut her off with a snap, "What part of I'm not sick did you not get? And I'm a doctor, I know what anorexia is and I don't have it."
"It's all about control," Burns interjected, her own voice sharp now. "Read the pamphlet. Call it a reality check. You can deny it all you want, Dr. Chase, but the fact of the matter is that you've lessened your food intake to the point that you've lost a considerable amount of weight. Weight you didn't need to lose. You did it for a reason that might not be registering with you at the moment. But you need to face reality and that's why I'm here. To help you do that."
"Fine." Chase softened his tone as he reached for the pamphlet, dropping it on his lap. "I'll read it later." He'd agree to anything to get her to move on to something else.
Burns narrowed her gaze at him, as if gauging his sincerity, then she nodded. "Fair enough. We'll talk about it during the next session."
Chase winced. "How many sessions are scheduled?"
"Two months to begin with," Burns replied. "Then I'll decide if you need more."
"I don't need that many to begin with," Chase protested, but without any fire to it. It wasn't worth getting worked up about. It was more an irritant than anything. Just something for House to force him into simply because he could. Burns needed to talk to House about control issues. Locking eyes with the psychiatrist, Chase stated, "I don't need to talk to you at all."
Sighing softly, Burns slipped her glasses back on top of her head. "It's not surprising that you're in denial, Dr. Chase. I've read your file and...you've suffered a lot of emotional trauma in your young life. Denial is a way of coping with that trauma."
Realizing he'd be better off banging his head against the wall than trying to convince Burns she was wrong about him, Chase decided to cite examples of his awareness of the crap that had been dumped on him. "My mother was an alcoholic and my father left me to take care of her when I was fifteen. She was moody and abusive and it wasn't easy dealing with her. My dad didn't give a damn about me to the point he couldn't even be bothered to tell me he was dying. He left it for me to get a phone call at work. I messed up and a woman died because of it and I have to live with that. Does that about cover my trauma? Because I'm not denying any of it."
"You're denying that it's something you need to deal with," Burns countered, her voice going soft and persuasive.
"I dealt with it a long time ago," Chase shot back, and he was beginning to understand why House had picked her. She was going to be a dog with a bone about his issues. Whether she was right or wrong about them, or him. Which was the one thing he didn't want to deal with right now. Making a show of yawning, Chase said, "Sorry, I'm really quite tired. And hungry. Could we pick this up another time? After the funeral maybe?" He figured he could just keep putting her off after that too. Screw House and what he wanted.
Burns was on her feet, looking concerned. "Of course, Dr. Chase. You need to rest. And that you're hungry is a good sign."
He didn't bother to remind her he was anorexic, he just offered a tired smile and nodded.
"I'll reschedule you and be in touch with the day and time." With that Burns patted his shoulder, then she headed out the door.
Chase watched her go and felt relief wash over him. Maybe he would be left alone for a while. But almost on cue, House came limping into the room. Carrying a paper bag which he dumped on the tray table and then pushed over to Chase. "What's that?" Chase pointed to the bag covered in grease spots.
House grinned. "Cheese burger and fries," he announced. "Fast food joint about two blocks from here. Full of fat and calories. Dig in." He tapped the bag with the end of his cane, then appropriated the chair Burns had left next to the bed.
"Maybe later," Chase said, pushing the tray back. Or trying to. House grabbed it to stop him.
"Consider it a test," House stated. "If you can eat this you'll convince me you're not anorexic."
Chase wasn't playing his game. Not this time. "I'm not going to stuff myself just to get sick for your amusement." Grabbing the bag, Chase chucked it in the direction of the garbage can. He missed, of course, but he got his point across anyway.
Heaving a sigh, House made a show of getting up and retrieving the bag. Then he pulled out the crushed burger, unwrapped it and took a bite. "We'll try again for supper. Oh, wait, you won't be here for supper."
"I won't?" Chase knew House had to be messing with him, but he was going to fall for the bait this time anyway.
"You can go home with Wilson when he's done with his shift," House announced.
That was the best news Chase had gotten in a long time. Too long a time to remember even. "Thanks." He figured he owed House that much.
House shrugged, setting the burger aside. "Funeral's tomorrow."
"Oh." Chase hadn't even thought to ask about it. It surprised him that it was time for that already. Or maybe he'd just been hoping he might sleep through it.
"So, how was your chat with Dr. Burns?" House prompted, leaning back in his chair and watching Chase with a narrowed and intent gaze.
He had to pull himself back to focus on the question and his answer. "She's annoying, like you." He watched House grin at that.
Tapping his cane on the floor, House nodded. "She is that, but in an entirely different way. I figured you could use the change. Or maybe the challenge."
"I just need to be allowed to get on with my life," Chase countered, and he was starting to feel angry again. Better than empty, he reminded himself.
"You need to take the first step in doing that," House allowed. "Which you haven't done yet. You're life is just the illusion you've created for other people to focus on."
Chase laughed at that. "Looks who's talking!" He got a flinch from that and felt like he'd won something. But it was a hollow victory at best, and House would one up him again all too soon.
No doubt House had a smart comeback, but his pager went off and he frowned as he read the message. Pushing to his feet he said, "Gotta go. We'll talk later." With that he limped out of the room.
Chase closed his eyes. He couldn't remember ever feeling so damn tired.
OoO
True to his word, House released Chase. Cameron brought him clothes earlier in the day and now Chase was dressed and ready to go. He just had to wait for Wilson to arrive. He bided his time thumbing through a magazine and was surprised by a knock on the doorframe. Glancing up he saw Cuddy standing there. "Oh, come in," Chase invited, feeling a bit foolish. It was her hospital after all. She could come or go as she pleased. He envied her that freedom in this moment. He was trapped by House, as always. Manipulated by the man's whims.
Cuddy stepped into the room, a smile on her face but looking hesitant. "How are you feeling, Chase?" she queried.
"I'm fine," he replied. They both knew he wasn't going to cop to anything being wrong with him. "I'll be back to work after the funeral." He wasn't sure why he told her that, maybe to make her aware that he was fine and capable of doing his job.
"House told me," Cuddy replied. She paused and studied him a moment, then said softly. "I'm sorry I...I feel like I've let you down, Chase."
He frowned at that. "Let me down how?"
She shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "I didn't notice anything was wrong. I should have been paying attention."
"There was nothing to see," Chase shot back, the familiar flare of anger creeping over him. "Unless you're psychic, you couldn't know that Vanessa was going to die the other night. That's the only thing that's wrong right now." He held up a hand when she looked like she was going to argue with him. "I know House is telling everyone that I'm anorexic. He's doing that to be an ass. I know I've lost a bit of weight but it's not a big deal. And I'm sure you know by now that I have a baby sitter for a time."
"Wilson." Cuddy was almost smiling. "You could do worse."
Chase nodded, because he knew that all too well. "Could be House." Not that it would be because the man wouldn't be bothered with him. Which was fine with Chase. He just wished House would leave him completely alone and stop butting into his personal life.
Cuddy was still smiling. "Wilson can probably tell you horror stories."
"I'm sure." Chase turned away to stuff the magazine in the small duffle bag Cameron had brought him. It was the one he kept in his locker. Right now it was mostly filled with magazines and his running clothes.
"I've spoken with Dr. Burns," Cuddy announced.
Which got Chase's attention. He turned around to lock eyes with her. "Meaning?"
The smile faded from Cuddy's face. "She's concerned that this won't be easy for you to deal with, Chase. Any of it. I've talked to her about the sessions we had. I didn't reveal anything we talked about," Cuddy was quick to assure him. Not that there had been much to tell even if she had. Chase hadn't revealed anything she wouldn't have already known from his file. "I just wanted her to know that you've made an effort to deal with things."
"So what's your point?" He had to ask because he wasn't all that sure she actually had one. What he got from Cuddy was the impression that she was feeling guilty.
"What I want to say is...don't feel like you have to rush into anything." Cuddy looked at the floor and almost fidgeted. "You don't have to come back to work right away if you're not ready too. Take the time to do what's right for you. I know House expects you back the day after tomorrow, but I'll handle him if you want some time off." She glanced up at him to see his reaction.
Chase shook his head. "I want to come back to work. I don't need time off. I can do my job." Why couldn't anyone but House seem to get that he needed to work. Of course, House was no doubt pushing for him to be back to torture him some more. But it worked in his favor so Chase didn't care what the reason was.
Cuddy looked uncertain, but after a moment she nodded. "Whatever you think is best."
"What I think is best is for everyone to stop acting like I'm sick!" Chase snapped, surprising himself. "I'm not sick or fragile. I'm rather used to people dying on me, I'll deal and move on. I don't need to talk to a shrink, I just need to be left alone and allowed to do my job!" He could see that Cuddy was as shocked by his outburst as he was.
"Everyone needs time to heal after a loss, Chase," she replied, her tone gentle. "Even if you're used to losing the people you care about, even if you tell yourself you can handle it...it's going to affect you at some point. It's the fallout you need to deal with. And we just want to be there to help you when that time comes. Or make it easier for when it does."
He knew she was being sincere, although he had to wonder why she bothered. Maybe it was just something that came with the job. Learning how to be sincere when you really didn't give a rat's ass about the person. "Thank you," Chase replied, because it was the expected thing to do. Which he was good at. Giving the expected response to whatever. "I appreciate your concern but I'll be fine."
There were footsteps that made them both look towards the door. Wilson was standing there.
"Am I interrupting anything?" he asked.
"No." Chase was quick to assure him he wasn't. "Can we go now?"
Wilson nodded. "I'm ready. I ran to House's for my stuff during lunch so it's in the car and we can head out."
Chase grabbed his bag and breezed past Cuddy. "Let's go then." He didn't look back as he walked out past Wilson. There was nothing to look back at. And never looking back was something Chase was good at. Because he knew better than anyone that you can't change the past.
THE END...of part 12