REWIND...part 15
Vincente's was elegant but with a homey atmosphere. The gathering was set up in the back room, which was large and tastefully decorted with burgundy curtains and chair cushions, against forest green walls with tiny stripes of cream and burgundy. The bar was in the corner and three-sided like a triangle.
Chase and Wilson arrived a few minutes early, but there was already a small crowd of people hanging out. Chase knew many of them and he greeted them all with a tired smile, mustering up the charm needed for appearances sake. He felt Wilson hovering beside him and made it a point to introduce him to everyone. Which meant it took a while to make it over to the bar. Once there he took a moment to let his gaze drift around the room and he wasn't surprised to see House standing at buffet table across the room. Cameron and Foreman were with him.
"Should we go over?" Wilson queried.
"I need a drink first," Chase replied, turning to the bartender and asking for a shot of Jack Daniels.
Wilson looked surprised. "You need a drink?" he countered, his surprise shading to concern.
Chase almost laughed at him, knowing exactly what the man was thinking. And why wouldn't he? Chase was the son of an alcoholic mother who drank herself to death. Now he was at a send off for another alcoholic who had done the same. Of course Wilson would jump to the conclusion that he planned on drinking himself into oblivion tonight. But after his recent bout with alcohol poisoning, nothing could be further from Chase's mind. "One drink," he said firmly.
"I'll have what he's having," Wilson said to the bartender, after giving Chase a nod. Then he leaned in and said, "Sorry. I just...You're all grown up and you know your limitations."
"Nicely said," Chase allowed, grabbing his drink then taking a sip. "But you don't believe that anymore than House does."
Wilson shrugged, not denying it. "I can't say much though. I'm painfully aware of the fact that I don't know my own limitations in regards to certain aspects of my life.
Which Chase took to mean his relationship with women. "Good point," he replied. Taking another sip of his drink, he watched as Wilson accepted his from the bartender, then he nodded towards House. "Guess we should go and say hello."
"Guess we should," Wilson conceded. "After you."
"Thanks," Chase drawled, oozing sarcasm and knowing that Wilson wouldn't take offense. Then he smiled slightly before stepping towards his co-workers. Along the way he greeted other guests, accepting condolences and pats on the backs, handshakes and a few hugs. By the time he made it to the buffet table, Chase felt a bit overwhelmed and slightly panicky.
House, of course, was watching him intently. But his only comment was, "Good eats."
Chase was almost grateful for the biting normality of that comment. It helped to ground him a bit and he felt his anxiety easing. Until he was ensconsed in a Cameron hug. Chase wasn't sure what to do at first. Then he let his free arm wrap lightly around her while trying to make sure he didn't spill the drink clasped in his other hand.
"How are you doing?" she asked, her mouth pressed close to his ear.
"I'm fine," Chase said quietly, feeling relieved when she pulled back and stepped away from him. He wasn't used to physical, public displays from her and it sent him reeling a bit.
Foreman stepped forward even as Cameron faded back. "Good to see you, man." He offered his hand to shake.
Chase stared at it a moment then shook it. He supposed everyone was acting different because of circumanstances. Because they pitied him. Which sparked an ember of anger deep inside him, but Chase was careful not to let it show. Instead he smiled as he replied to Foreman's question. "I'm fine. Thanks. So...do we have a case?"
"Not yet," Foreman admitted, looking a bit disgruntled. "But don't let that stop you from coming back to work ASAP. Cuddy has me and Cameron covering your clinic hours."
"When they're not covering mine," House piped in.
Choosing to ignore House for the moment, Chase focused on Foreman. "I'll be back tomorrow," he said firmly. And it was almost funny to see Foreman and Cameron's reactions. Foreman's jaw dropped and he looked rather fish like for a moment, and Cameron looked like she'd just been punched.
Stepping back in front of him, Cameron locked eyes with Chase. "Tomorrow is too soon," she said gently. "You need to take some time to heal, Chase."
"He'll be fine," House interjected, before Chase could respond. But he was giving the Aussie a critical once over as he spoke, and not looking pleased by what he saw.
"I want to come back," Chase stated, before Cameron could protest further. He made himself smile as he patted her arm, willing her to drop it.
She looked unhappy, but seemed to realize it would be best to drop it. "Just...don't feel like you have to push yourself to come back. Everyone will understand if you take time off."
Chase nodded. "I know that, but I want to work. Vanessa's gone and the house is empty. Why would I want to sit around alone all day?"
"He has a good point," House said, before popping a cheese puff into his mouth. He chewed a moment then grabbed another one and held it out to Chase. "Here, have one or twenty. Maybe you'll put an ounce on before your weigh in tomorrow."
"I don't need weigh ins," Chase protested, even as he accepted the Cheese puff. Mostly out of habit of doing what House told him to do. "I'm eating just fine. Ask Wilson."
House smirked then let his gaze drift to his friend. "So? Is he eating just fine?"
Wilson sighed. "He's eating," he stated, then he stepped around House and grabbed a plate, making a show of filling it. Which meant he was then able to ignore House.
"Eat that," House ordered, gesturing to the cheese puff Chase was still holding.
"Fine." Just to prove a point, Chase took a bite. It was too spicy and his stomach was not happy with him, but he chewed and swallowed then popped the other half into his mouth and repeated the process. "Happy now?"
House arched one eyebrow. "Ecstatic," he dead-panned. "So...why the party? Why not a funeral like everyone else has then a little gathering at someone's house afterwards?"
Chase didn't want to answer the question, but he could feel three sets of eyes upon him. Wilson already knew the story, but Chase repeated a version of it. "Vanessa wanted people to remember who she was and to celebrate her life, not her passing. She arranged everything over a year ago."
"Like she knew she was going to die," Cameron whispered, sounding a bit horrified by that thought.
"Everyone dies," Chase reminded her, and he got a sympathetic glare for his troubles. But he knew what she meant. That it was as if Vanessa had known she would be gone soon. Like she had planned it and once everything was in place she had chugged down enough alcohol to finish herself off. Or maybe that wasn't what Cameron meant at all, but it was something Chase had thought about. Something that haunted him. Something he would never share with anyone.
Cameron looked uncertain of how to respond to him.
Chase let her off the hook. "I need to mingle," he said sharply. "Thanks for coming. If I don't get a chance to talk again, I'll see you all tomorrow." With that he spun on his heel and walked away. But it wasn't like he could leave and Chase just ended up trapped by everyone's sympathy.
OoO
The moment Chase walked away, House turned to Wilson. "Let's go have chat." He took the other man by the arm and practically dragged him off.
Which left Foreman and Cameron alone.
Cameron looked unhappy. "I hate these things," she grumbled.
"Parties?" Foreman countered, surprise coloring his tone.
"Things related to death and funerals and such," Cameron explained, albeit badly.
Foreman shrugged. "Life and death go hand in hand. You have to learn to deal with both."
Heaving a frustrated sigh, Cameron took a moment to calm herself before replying since she was feeling a little punchy. She let her eyes search the room, coming to focus on Chase who was at the bar talking with two older women. "He looks so fragile," she said softly.
"Once he gets some weight back on he'll look stronger," Foreman replied, his eyes on Chase too.
"Do you think he's ready to come back to work?" Cameron turned to look at Foreman as she asked.
Grimacing, Foreman shrugged again. "Hell if I know. Chase seems to react differently to things than most people do. Like how he doesn't react to House's comments and such. He lets it slide off his back instead of getting angry. He lets people walk all over him rather than putting up a fight. So maybe going back to work will be a positive thing for him. He's got a point about just sitting around an empty house all day."
Cameron supposed Foreman had a point, but she was still worried. "He's not reacting to Vanessa being gone the way I thought he would."
"He's an Intesivist," Foreman replied, as if that explained everything. When Cameron gave him a blank look, he attempted to clarify. "He's used to dealing with death. Maybe he's become somewhat immune to it. Maybe that's how he copes. It's different for everyone."
"Do you think House will cut him some slack, all things considered?" Cameron had been wondering how things were going to be. If they would go back to what she considered normal or if what had happened with Chase, and to Chase, would change all of them in some way. Like the fact that she was determined to help him gain back the weight he had lost, even if that meant hounding him about eating.
"House will be House," Foreman replied. "Whether that's going to be a good or bad thing for Chase remains to be seen. At least Chase will know what to expect."
Cameron could agree with that. "So, do you still intend to help Chase?" she queried. "You know...being one of his food buddies?"
Foreman shifted, looking uncomfortable. "I'm not sure how Chase feels about me being involved with that. I'm not all that thrilled about it, but I suppose I can give it a shot. I mean...it's just keeping an eye on what he eats and stuff."
"It's about more than that," Cameron countered, feeling a bit annoyed at Foreman. He knew he and Chase weren't exactly friends, but they had worked together for almost three years. It wouldn't exactly be a hardship for him to help Chase. "It's about moral support as well," Cameron continued. "He needs that more than anything."
"But will he accept it," Foreman shot back, playing devil's advocate.
Cameron felt determination washing over her. "I'm not going to give him a choice," she stated firmly. And with a grim smile she moved to the buffet table and began filling a small plate.
OoO
House drew Wilson over to a semi-private corner. He then snagged a chair and sat down before asking, "So how's things at the Chase hotel?"
Wilson rolled his eyes. "So far so good. His guest room is way better than your couch and he's a better host too."
"I'm wounded," House mocked, dramatically pressing one hand over his heart. "Is he eating? Because he's looking pretty thin tonight?"
"He's eating." Wilson went and snagged a chair for himself, setting it so he could watch the room. He spotted Chase at the bar. "Do you really think his going back to work tomorrow is a good idea?"
House was watching Chase too, and he grimaced when the Aussie caught him at it, acknowledging it with a slight nod. Then House focused his attention on to Wilson. "It's better than him sitting all alone in that big house. Dontcha think?"
Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose, looking tired. "I suppose. Just don't ride him too hard. He's breakable right now."
"You think I don't know that?" House was a bit disgruntled. "And why does everyone seem to think I'm going to shatter Chase? As breakable as he is at the moment, he's also a lot tougher than anyone is giving him credit for."
"You're probably right," Wilson allowed. "But don't go thinking you have to test that theory, okay? Give Chase a breather for now. He's earned the time to grieve and to heal."
House scratched the bridge of his nose, his eyes wandering back to Chase. "But is he grieving? Have you seen him cry?"
Wilson arched both eyebrows at House. "Yeah...cause he seems like the crying type."
"You are," House pointed out, simply because he could and because Wilson hadn't been around for him to harass lately. He'd missed it.
"I'm in a class all by myself," Wilson shot back, not missing a beat.
House couldn't deny the truth of that, so he didn't bother. "Going back to work will be good for Chase," he stated, firmly. Then he went silent, intent on watching Chase work the room. He was moving from person to person, being greeted with hugs and handshakes and offering smiles in return. It was highly entertaining and House slouched into a more comfortable position in his chair to watch.
After a time, Wilson caught on and watched as well, but then he was frowning and tapping House on the shoulder. "What is so fascinating about watching Chase?"
"The way he interacts with everyone," House replied. He had no reason to lie about it.
"He's talking to them," Wilson pointed out.
House nodded. "But it's the way he's talking to them. He's like a Chameleon. He reacts differently to each individual. It's kinda cool."
Wilson opened his mouth to reply, then snapped it closed.
"Go get me more cheese puffs," House ordered. "Leg hurts." He rubbed his thigh to make it look good, although it really did hurt. And the moment Wilson was up and heading back to the buffet table, House popped a Vicodin. Then he smiled as he continued to watch the show.
OoO
For a time, Chase was vibrantly aware of the fact that House was watching him. He told himself he didn't care. Let House watch him, he didn't do tricks for God's sake. After a time he was able to focus on Vanessa's guests, because this was her party after all. But keeping up the facade of charm and warmth was wearing Chase down. Trying to avoid Cameron and her plate of food wasn't helping matters either. She was pretty much dogging his every step, to the point where Chase was reduced to sending pleading glances to Foreman.
It took almost an hour, but Foreman finally got the hint and he herded Cameron out the door. Chase had felt relieved not having to deal with her good intentions any longer. As it was she'd persisted to the point where he'd eaten way more than his stomach was happy with, compelling Chase to exchange his Jack Daniel's for a glass of coke. At least the coke helped settle his queasy stomach.
It didn't magically make everyone disappear though, the way Chase rather wished they would. So he snuck off to the men's room as soon as he could. He relieved himself then splashed water on his pale face, all the while managing to avoid his reflection in the mirror. After five minutes passed by, he realized he would have to head back out to the party, but even as he stepped out of the men's room, Chase found himself waylaid by a familiar face.
"Hello, Robert," Dr. Stewart said in greeting.
"Doctor," Chase replied. "I'm glad you could make it." In truth he hadn't even thought about the man being invited.
Dr. Stewart studied Chase a moment, then asked, "Can we talk for a moment? Privately."
Chase had a feeling he wasn't going to like what Stewart had to say, but he nodded anyway then led the way out to the patio off the back of the place. The night was a bit cool, but the air was crisp and Chase inhaled deeply. He felt Dr. Stewart come to stand beside him.
"How are you doing, Robert?" Stewart queried.
"I'm fine." Did the man really expect him to say anything else.
The other man's eyes roamed over Chase a moment. His voice was quiet when he spoke. "You've lost a lot of weight since I last saw you."
Chase sighed. He should have seen this coming. "I'm fine," he repeated. "If that's all you wanted to talk about, then I have to go back to the party."
"I wanted to say something to you about Vanessa," Stewart shot back, grabbing Chase by the arm as he turned to go.
"Okay." Chase pulled free of his grasp then waited, pointedly giving Stewart his full attention.
A shuffle of feet then Stewart cleared his throat before beginning. "First thing I want to say is that I'm sorry for your loss. Vanessa wasn't an easy woman to get to know, but she was a good woman for all her faults."
Chase winced and closed his eyes. He knew that better than anyone. But all he said was, "Thank you."
"The other thing I wanted to say is that you need to move on." Stewart's tone sharpened. "You couldn't save her, Robert. No one could. She knew that and it pained her to know that she was going to hurt you in the end. That she hurt you anyway. But she wanted me to tell you that she loved you and that she wants you to be happy because you deserve it."
"When did you two get all chummy?" Chase countered, because what Stewart was saying to him made it sound like he had Vanessa had been chatting recently.
Dr. Stewart made a face, then made a confession. "After she hurt her ankle, we started talking again. She would call me...to talk about you. She knew she was going to hurt you and...she just needed a ear to bend while she worked through that guilt."
Chase felt anger and confusion and doubt twisting inside him. "Was there something else wrong with her?" He asked. "Did she know she was going to die?" Because it sure as hell was beginning to sound like that to Chase.
"Her only sickness was the bottle Robert, and the fact that she was slowly saturating it with alcohol." Stewart looked grim but determined. "I offered to put her in a rehab and to help both of you deal with it, but she refused. She knew her own weaknesses, Robert. She knew that there was a part of her that didn't want to get better, for whatever reasons. She knew that dying was inevitable. Her main concern through all of this was you. She wants you to move on with your life."
"Fine." Chase was abrupt but he wanted this conversation to end. He felt a bit sick at what he was hearing. It was as if Vanessa planned all of this, even the time of her death, and that wasn't something he wanted to deal with right now. The ache in his temples was throbbing and he wanted a beer. He'd seen the bottles of Australian beer at the bar, and he knew Vanessa had imported them just for him. He had no intention of letting them go to waste. "It was good to see you," Chase said politely, not looking at Stewart. Then he was turning and almost running for the door.
He plastered a smile on his face as he stepped back inside, not letting anyone see the turmoil that was twisting him into shreds from within. He never let anything show. So he responded to everyone with politeness as he slowly and steadily made his way to the bar. Once there he asked for his beer and the first swallow tasted like heaven. Silently, Chase made a toast to Vanessa, and he couldn't help wondering if she was watching him from heaven or hell.
OoO
Wilson was keeping a sharp eye on Chase. He watched him drink three beers. Watched the perfect smile become too bright and too fake and then he decided it was time to take Chase home. He knew no one would question Chase leaving early. House had left half an hour ago, and Wilson was rather glad. Wilson was pretty sure that Chase was spiraling for a breakdown and he didn't need House in the audience watching it happen. The man had enough fuel against Chase as it was.
Moving over to Chase's side, he smiled at the woman the Aussie had been talking too and managed to excuse them both. Once off to the side he said, "I think it's time to go. It's getting late and we both have work in the morning."
"Fine." Chase didn't argue, he just finished off the fourth beer in his hand, then set the bottle on a nearby table.
"I'm driving." Wilson held his hand out for the keys. He was glad when Chase just fished them out of his pocket before dropping them into his palm. He watched Chase as they made their way out. The Aussie was smiling as he said his goodbyes to everyone. Then they were outside and Wilson saw Chase drop the facade. His thin frame seemed to sag under a sudden weight, his hair was falling into heavily shadowed eyes and he looked ready to drop. He looked frighteningly fragile and Wilson felt the sudden urge to protect him from the big bad world and all the horrible people it in. Only he knew he was years too late for that. "You were drinking a lot," Wilson commented, as he fell into step beside Chase on the way to the car.
Chase didn't look at him, he just kept walking towards the car. "Not enough," he said as they reached it.
Wilson sighed. "Getting drunk won't help, and do you really want to get sick again?"
"I just want to go home," Chase countered, sagging against the door. "It's locked."
"Right." Wilson hit the button on the keychain, hearing the pop sound of the mechanism releasing. "You should reconsider about going into work tomorrow. You're going to be hungover."
Chase opened the door, but locked eyes with Wilson before moving to get in. "Not your problem," he drawled, then he was in the car and buckling up.
Wilson got in on the driver's side and did the same. "True enough," he allowed. "But you should still stay home and rest tomorrow. I can call House in the morning, or just tell him when I get to work."
"I'm going in tomorrow," Chase replied, leaning his head back against the seat. He looked unutterably weary. "Not going to waste all those calories I drank. I'll have a great weigh in."
"One of the tricks Anorexics use," Wilson shot back, without really meaning too. But he'd read the pamphlets on it then did a bit of research on the internet a few years back after dealing with an anorexic cancer patient. "Drink a lot for water weight gain."
Chase laughed at that. "Truth is, I'll have pissed most of it out by morning." He rubbed a hand over his face then sighed. "I think I'm a little bit drunk."
Wilson wasn't about to deny that, but the truth was Chase held his liquor better than he would have expected. Far better than Wilson ever had. "You hide it pretty well."
"Learned from the best," Chase announced, almost brightly.
"I really think you should stay home tomorrow," Wilson said, repeating himself. But he knew Chase wasn't ready to face what tomorrow would bring.
Chase turned his head to face him, his eyes narrowed and a bit of anger glinting through. "I really think you should drive," he stated, his cool tone at odds with how soft he spoke.
Wilson realized he wasn't going to get through to Chase right now, so he gave up gracefully. He started the car and drove home.
OoO
Once home, Chase made his way upstairs. He didn't say a word to Wilson, and the ride home had been silent as well. Chase was glad the man respected his wishes and backed off. He didn't need a keeper.
The moment he was in his room with the door closed, Chase headed for the bathroom to empty his stomach. The beer tasted sour coming back up, which was to be expected. Overall, his stomach was happier with him once it was empty. Not that he didn't still feel light-headed and a bit queasy, but brushing his teeth and splashing cold water on his face helped a little. Just a little, so Chase opted for a quick shower before pulling on boxers and a t-shirt and sliding into bed. Clutched in his hand was a sleeping pill. Taking it would be a bit risky, even though he'd puked up most of the beer he'd drank. As a doctor, Chase knew he shouldn't take it, but he wanted it. He wanted the oblivion it would bring. Sleep without dreams.
Even now, just closing his eyes, he could see Vanessa's face. It made him wonder if he had been looking for the signs the way he should have. If she had really planned everything, even the time of her death. Chase couldn't help but wonder if maybe his mother hadn't done the same thing and he just hadn't noticed. If he'd been paying better attention, would he have been able to stop her from dying when she had. Maybe given her at least a few more years. Or maybe she had just been tired of living. Chase had his moments when he felt the same way. Sometimes living took too much effort.
Rolling onto his left side, he reached out and set the pill on the bedside stand. Maybe he deserved his dreams tonight. He closed his eyes again and, mercifully, drifted off to sleep.
He did dream, but he was tired enough to will them away every time they woke him. But he was still up early and pulling on running clothes. Before heading out, Chase made a pit stop to the kitchen and he made himself drink half a can of ensure. He needed something in his stomach and he knew House was going to make a big deal out of his weigh in.
On the plus side, the Tylenol he took in the middle of the night had made his headache almost disappear and other than a bit of a queasy stomach, Chase didn't feel that bad. No actual hangover, which was a blessing. So he was able to enjoy his run, reveling in the burn. By the time he got back, his jittery feeling was gone.
Wilson was in the kitchen when Chase came in, drinking a glass of orange juice and glancing at a file. He was already dressed for work. "I got paged," he said, answering the questioning look on Chase's face.
"Guess I'll see you there then," Chase replied. He went to the fridge and pulled out the other half of the Ensure, then he grabbed a bottle of water to wash it down with.
"Good run?" Wilson queried, eyeing Chase from head to toe.
Chase nodded. "Pretty good." He smiled before chugging down the Ensure.
Wilson watched him then asked, "Sure you're ready to go back to work?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" Chase made a face then swallowed some water to wash the bad taste out of his mouth. "I'm not sick and life goes on. It's as simple as that."
"I suppose it is," Wilson allowed, although he didn't look convinced. Still, he got up and tucked the file back into his brief case. "I'll see you at the hospital."
Chase nodded. "See you." He watched Wilson go then he headed upstairs. He took a quick shower, brushed his teeth, then went searching for a suit jacket that would fit him. He had one he didn't wear much because it had been cut in a way that felt too constricting. It should be just perfect for him now. He found a shirt to go with it and a tie to match, or not match, then he got dressed. Since the jacket was dark brown, Chase put on tan chinos to go with it. They wouldn't make him look as thin, at least he hoped they wouldn't. After seeing his true reflection last night, Chase realized he was becoming paranoid about his appearance.
He'd never cared how he looked before. Never tried to dress like the cool kids. Never wore his hair the way everyone else did. He didn't want to be noticed that way. It was bad enough that he looked like his mother, which everyone would always say. Which translated into good looks that Chase could have lived without. Not that he didn't know how to use them, but he did so mostly to deflect people from seeing too much. But now he was paranoid that people were staring at him again, this time because he was too thin or whatever.
But once he was dressed he didn't look all that different than he remembered. Shaking his head at himself, Chase brushed his hair then sat down to tie on his shoes. Glancing at his watch he saw he had plenty of time to stop at the bake Shoppe. He planned on bringing bagels into work. It would give House something to talk about that wouldn't make Chase feel like poking himself in the eye.
He ended up being the second one into work. Cameron was sitting at the table when he walked in and Chase slid a smile on as she spotted him and jumped up to meet him. He thrust the bag of bagels and cream cheese at her before she could hug him again.
"What's this?" Cameron asked, taking the bag.
"Breakfast," Chase replied.
Foreman walked in just as he spoke. "I'm hungry," he stated. "What did you bring?"
Cameron was peaking in the bag. "Oh, bagels. They smell great and they're still warm." She was pulling out a plain one for herself.
"Coffee ready?" Chase asked, even as he moved to the counter. Cameron's coffee wasn't the best, but he knew it would be strong and he needed the caffeine kick.
"Should be." Cameron moved around him, reaching for napkins. "Thanks for the bagels."
He smiled at her. "Sure thing." After pouring himself some coffee, Chase moved to the table and grabbed a bagel for himself. He watched Foreman slathering cream cheese on his, and Cameron grabbed a knife to do the same, but Chase bit into his plain. It was about all he figured his stomach could handle right now. "So, do we have a case?" he asked, hoping against hope that they did. Otherwise he would no doubt spend his day in the clinic. Or maybe he could talk to Cuddy about working ICU or NICU for today.
Foreman made a face. "Nothing yet. I even checked the clinic before coming up here."
"So did I," Cameron confessed. "We've got nothing."
"But you can do your own damn clinic hours today, Chase," Foreman ribbed him.
Chase had a comeback for that, but just then House made his entrance.
Blue eyes stared at the bagels before House limped over and grabbed one. He looked at Chase. "You bring them?"
"Yes." Chase knew it was unusual for him to do so and that House would have a comment for it. He wasn't disappointed.
"Nicely done. Sucking up and cheating at the same time," House drawled. "I commend your creativity."
Chase frowned at him. He wasn't sucking up but that he let slide. The cheating bit confused him. "Cheating? What does that mean?"
House smirked at him. "You have your weigh in today and you're trying to up your calories." He munched a big bite of the bagel before continuing. "Did you drink half a gallon of water too, before arriving?"
"No, but I did drink a lot of beer last night," Chase blurted out, and he would have kicked himself if he could. Judging by how wide Cameron's eyes went and the stunned expression on Foreman's face, it had been exactly the wrong thing to say. But it was telling about what they thought about him. It was clear to Chase they expected him to be a victim of his mother's disease. Sure he'd gotten alcohol poisoning and now he'd had a few beers, but were they really that stupid as to think it meant a weakness on his part?
Chase dropped his bagel in the trash, disgusted with himself. He already knew Foreman thought of him as weak and he really didn't want to know Cameron's opinion of him. All he wanted was to get back to work. "If we don't have a case, I'll be in the clinic." He made a move towards the door only to have House intercept him with his cane across Chase's belly.
Grinning widely, House announced, "We have a case. Unexplained convulsions and an icky rash on the back of her knees. Apparently it's not an allergic reaction and she's not an epileptic so it's test running time. He dropped his cane and pointed to Foreman. "Go get a history," he ordered. Then his attention was on Cameron. "Draw blood and stuff and run tests. You know...those things you do so well."
"What's her name?" Foreman asked.
"How should I know," House replied. "She's in 312. Ask her."
Rolling his eyes, Foreman left.
Cameron soon followed.
Chase stared at House. "What do you want me to do?" He knew he was going to regret asking, and boy was he right.
"Time for your weigh in," House announced. "Follow me." He led the way into his office.
"This is stupid," Chase stated, even as he followed House. He knew the man would hound him if he refused and so it was better to just go along. But he hated being put on the spot like this. Hated being made to feel like something was wrong with him.
House sat down then tapped the scale on the floor with the blunt end of his cane. "Step up, slim."
The mocking at least was familiar and almost comforting. Chase made to step up but House tapped his leg with his cane. "What now?" Chase felt exasperated and angry.
"Shoes off," House ordered.
"They don't weigh enough to matter!" Chase protested.
House shrugged. "Take them off anyway, and your suit jacket. I want honest results."
Chase toed off his shoes and practically yanked his jacket off. He was angry and feeling frustrated and he wanted nothing more than to slug House. Instead he worked on making sure nothing of what he felt was revealed on his face as he stepped onto the scale. He didn't look at the numbers. "Happy now?" Chase stepped off and grabbed his jacket.
"You didn't lose any weight, but you didn't gain any either. Guess that's acceptable. For now." House bent over to shove the scale under his desk.
"Oh...did I happen to mention last night that you have a therapy session with Dr. Burns today?"
"No, you didn't mention it," Chase replied, as he sat down to put his shoes back on. He wasn't happy about it either. Dr. Burns had told him he could set a time after the funeral. When he was ready.
House seemed to read his mind. "No sense putting off the inevitable. Face your fears, Chase. It's better for everyone."
Chase bit back an angry retort. He simply stood up and asked, "What time is the appointment?"
"Five minutes." House had glanced at his watch. "When you're done come back here and I'm sure I'll have loads of stuff for you to do. Some of it even work related.
"Fine." Chase headed for the door, resisting the urge to rub at the ache throbbing in his temples. He walked down the corridor, heading for the elevator, but ended up making a side trip into the bathroom. He emptied his stomach and his only thought was Thank God it happened after the weigh in. Fuck he was a mess. A pathetic mess.
Spitting into the toilet, Chase got up and headed for the sink. He rinsed his mouth then reached for the pack of gum he had in his pocket. Chewing it helped the bad taste and to settle his stomach. A moment later he was on the elevator and heading for the locker room. Once there he brushed his teeth then he reached for his lab coat. Shrugging it on helped settle his nerves.
Giving his reflection a quick glance, Chase felt satisfied that he looked normal. Today was the day he was going to go back to what was normal. To hell with House and everyone else. He knew what he needed to do, what he needed to be.
Plastering a smile on his face, Chase walked out the door.
He didn't see House lingering in the shadows.
THE END...of part 15