REWIND...part 17
It had taken an agonizingly long time for Chase to get what amounted to about half a page of information on Father Anthony. The Priest had been more interested in ranting and raving about Cameron and the nurses here, and about Chase himself, than he had been in giving out the history they needed. Chase had basically tuned out everything but the responses he needed, but he'd had to pull it out of the man.
By the time he left the room, he felt worn out and a headache was forming in his temples. So before making his way to House's office, Chase made a pit stop at the soda machine, opting for a Mt. Dew. He took a long swig, waited for the caffeine jolt to kick in, then he headed for the stairs. The exercise wouldn't be much, but it had to help give him at least a bit of energy.
When he reached the office doors, he paused for a minute for another swig of soda, then he girded his loins, so to speak, and stepped inside. House was kicked back in his chair with ear phones one, fingers tapping a beat on his thighs. Chase didn't interrupt him. He just sat down in the chair closest to the desk and waited.
It wasn't long before House sensed his presence, or seemed too, since he didn't look all that surprised to see him. He simply shucked the ear phones and hit a button on his Ipod. "So, did you get the history?"
"What there is of it," Chase replied, holding out the file.
"Give me the crib notes version," House requested, ignoring the file.
Chase dropped the folder on the desk then blurted out what he had. "He says he was an orphan so he never knew his parents and therefore has no family medical history to impart. But he did say he's been feeling tired for months and that he's been suffering neck and leg pain. Recently he's gotten dizzy a few times, mostly when he's on his feet for too long."
House did not look impressed. "Anything else?"
"No." Uncapping his soda, Chase took another swig. After screwing the cap back on he found the bottle plucked from his hand. "Hey!" He tried to get it back but House tossed it in the trash can. "What are you doing?" Chase was on his feet and pissed.
"That's the last thing you need," House countered. He stood up, not the least bit impressed by Chase's glowering, and headed for the door. "Come on, it's lunch time."
Chase didn't move. "You're not my lunch buddy!" He could not believe he'd just said that either. He hated the very thought of food buddies, but Cameron had already informed him earlier that she would be eating lunch with him.
House shrugged. "Cameron is busy so you're stuck with me."
"You love to torture me, don't you?" Chase snapped. It wasn't a comment he would usually make, but he was feeling grouchy and tired and he didn't want to deal with House today, any more than he had too.
"It's one of the perks of the job," House allowed, pushing the door open. "Out, now." It was a command that he, obviously, expected to be obeyed.
Since Chase didn't have the energy, or the will, to argue with him, he swept past House heading straight for the stairs. House would use the elevator so Chase could easily lose him. Only House moved faster than Chase would have expected and he suddenly found his way blocked by the larger man.
House tapped Chase on the leg with the end of his cane. "Elevator is that way. Nice try though, junior."
"I'm not hungry right now." Chase knew he sounded petulant, but he was past caring.
"This isn't about whether you're hungry or not," House calmly replied. "And you know it. It's about stuffing you full of calories. At least pretend to be a good doctor and do what you know needs to be done. You want to get better, don't you?"
Chase felt anger roiling through him, felt his hands forming into fists which he shoved into his lab coat pockets. "I'm not sick!" He spat the words out like a cat snarling at a stranger.
House did nothing more than arch an eyebrow at him, then he herded Chase down the hallway and into the elevator. "Prove it," he challenged, as he hit the proper button for their destination.
"What do you mean, prove it?" Chase countered. Because for the life of him he couldn't think of any way. He'd told everyone he was fine and no one believed him. They were the ones who were fucked up and delusional. Not him. So how did he prove anything to people who weren't willing to listen to reason.
"Simple." House was grinning at him, but there wasn't even a touch of humor in the action. "Stop arguing with me and eat lunch. That will go a long way to proving your point."
Chase shook his head. House didn't care about anything but getting Chase to do what he wanted. Fine. He'd eat lunch if it meant getting House to leave him alone for the rest of the day. He said nothing more as the elevator deposited them on the ground floor. He simply followed House out and into the cafeteria. He even let House pick out lunch for him, but he balked at paying for them both. "Buy your own damn lunch!" Chase snapped at him, pulling a five out of his pocket for his own meal. But, to his surprise, House waved it away, handing a ten over to the cashier.
Tapping the tray, House told Chase, "Carry that to the table."
"Fine." Chase scooped it up then let House lead the way over to the far corner. He then put the tray down and pulled out a chair.
"Bon apetit," House said, as he plunked a plate down in front of Chase before taking his own seat. He also set a tall glass of milk in front of him.
Chase eyed it with disfavor. He liked milk, but he would have preferred his Mt. Dew. So he ignored it for now in favor of unwrapping his sandwich. He found he wasn't the least bit surprised to discover it was a Reuben. He didn't like them and he knew House was aware of that fact. But Chase didn't say a word of complaint. Mainly because he knew House was waiting for him to do just that. He was tired of playing into House's games. Instead he focused on tearing the sandwich into bite sized bits.
House watched him for a time then said, "Neat trick."
"What?" Chase was confused by the comment.
"What you're doing," House stated.
Chase looked down at the piles of sandwich bits strewn over his plate. "What are you talking about?"
House looked sincerely amused. "You're playing with your food. Tearing it into pieces and moving it around the plate without actually eating a bit of it. It's a trick anorexics love to use."
"That might actually be interesting, if I was anorexic," Chase shot back. Then, locking eyes with House, he took one of his sandwich pieces and put it in his mouth. The taste of it made him scrunch up his face, but Chase chewed and swallowed it down. He had a point to make here. Which was the fact he didn't need someone to watch over him.
"So...what did Burns make you talk about?" House queried. "Mommy and Daddy issues?" After asking he took a huge bite of his own sandwich and chewed loudly.
Chase knew that House was just trying to irritate him. Sadly, it was working, along with jacking up the pain in his temples. Resisting the urge to try and rub away the pain, Chase replied calmly, "None of your business. You have heard of Doctor-patient confidentiality. Right?"
House nodded. "Heard of it." He paused to suck down a big swallow of his lemonade. "It's highly overrated though," he continued. "So...what did you tell her? Enquiring minds want to know."
"You'll get over it," Chase countered. He took another bite of his sandwich then had to reach for his milk to wash it down. He could feel House watching him intently and he tried not to care or react to it.
"So how did you manage to get all that info from Father Anthony?" House asked, smoothly shifting topics.
Chase shrugged. "It wasn't all that much," he reminded his boss.
House chuckled. "True, but it was more than Cameron got. She told me the good Father was cantankerous, mean and rude. I think he offended her." House leaned in and spoke in a confidential whisper for the last bit. Then he leaned back and made a show of studying Chase. "Let me guess, you told him you were a choir boy and he got all shuddery and happily spilled his guts."
"You're a sick bastard," Chase replied, not looking up at House. Instead he continued to play with the sandwich bits on his plate. Hopefully House would get bored soon and leave, then he could toss lunch and head for the clinic or at the very least be sent to run some tests. Any place that didn't involve having to deal with House.
"Drink your milk," House said suddenly, shoving the glass closer. "I want it all gone. No leaving the table until it is and you've finished at least half your sandwich. Oh...and dessert." House laid a plate with a slice of chocolate cheese cake in front of Chase. "You can get your caffeine high along with about a thousand calories all in one fell swoop."
Chase felt anger crackling inside him. He lifted his head to glare at House. "Stop treating me like a five year old!" he snarled.
House was not the least bit intimidated. "Then stop acting like one."
"Pot - Kettle," Chase smoothly retaliated. And he felt a bit proud of himself for that one. Especially when House grinned at him.
"Touche," House conceded. "But you still need to eat." He looked about ready to grab the food and shove it down Chase's throat, when his pager went off. Cursing, House fished it out of his pocket, scanning the message then rising to his feet. "Eat because I'll know if you don't," he ordered, shaking a finger at Chase. "And you will be punished." With that threat lingering between them, House turned and limped away.
Chase watched House go, not touching his food. He then simply stared at it before picking up a bite and putting it in his mouth. He only managed a few bits, a couple of bites of the cheese cake and half the glass of milk, and he hated himself for giving in to House's threat. But in the end he always gave in. It made his life easier.
Rising to his feet, Chase collected the tray and the plates, dumped everything in the bins they belonged in, then made his way back to the conference room. But he made another pit stop at the soda machine for another Mt. Dew. It was a stupid gesture of defiance, but it made him feel better. It made him feel like he had at least a little bit of control.
It helped that he didn't see House for the rest of the day, which he spent in the conference room and the labs, running what tests they could then going over the information they had.
By days end, Chase was more than ready to go home.
OoO
He was tired and relieved that Wilson wasn't there yet. Chase felt almost lethargic as he climbed the stairs to his room, yet he also felt too hyped up to sleep. No doubt the three bottles of Mt. Dew that House didn't know about. He hated feeling so tired, which meant he needed to kick start his adrenaline. So he stripped out of his work clothes, pulled on sweats and a t-shirt and headed out for a run.
Which turned out to be a stupid idea on his part. He hadn't gone half a mile when he got a stitch in his side that he had to walk off. But then he started to feel shaky, so he turned around and started jogging back, only to get hit with a wave of dizziness that sent him stumbling to his knees. He hit hard and yelped when stone tore into his right knee cap as he skidded forward a bit. Cursing, Chase gripped his aching knee with one hand as he sat with his head down between his legs while he waited for the dizziness to pass.
By the time he got home it was nearing dark. He was limping and not happy to hear puttering noises in the kitchen. Wilson was there. Chase hoped to slip upstairs and shower without being noticed, but Wilson must have heard him because he came out with a towel tucked into the waistband of his trousers, like an apron, and eyed Chase with concern.
"You okay?" Wilson asked.
"Fine." Chase wasn't going to tell him about the dizziness or the fall. He didn't need Wilson hovering or mothering.
Wilson moved closer. "You don't look fine. You look pale and shaky and you have blood on your pant leg."
Chase grimaced and figured he'd better offer a bit of an explanation. "I pushed a bit too hard and I tripped. It's nothing. I'm going to shower and clean it up."
"Don't take long," Wilson countered. "I made spaghetti for dinner and it's almost ready."
"Right." Chase continued up the stairs, feeling relieved at making his escape so easily. Once in his room he stripped off his running clothes and tossed the sweat pants straight into the trash can. He then limped into the bathroom, trying hard not to think about House, since he was limping on the same leg. He turned the shower on as hot as he could stand it, then stepped hissing at the heat as it hit his skin. After a moment it felt blissful though, until he turned his knee into it.
By the time he was done washing up and had dried off and toweled his hair to dampness, Chase felt like he'd just run a marathon. Yet at the same time he still felt jittery. He made a mental note to lay off the Mt. Dew as he pulled on boxers and a long-sleeved t-shirt. He left jeans sitting on the bed so he could bandage his knee first. Which meant getting the first aid kit which was in the master bedroom. Only even as he headed for the door, Wilson was there.
He held up a first aid kit. Not Chase's. "Got this from my car," he said, as he stepped in and laid it on a nearby dresser top. "I wasn't sure how up to date yours was." He moved closer to peer at Chase's leg. "That looks painful."
"It's fine." Chase had to resist the urge to try and cover it with one hand. He felt rather like a small child reluctant to let his mother clean his scrape because he knew it would hurt. It was easier to inflict his own pain. He was used to it.
"Being a doctor, I bet I can make that judgment call for myself," Wilson calmly replied. "Sit." He waved at the end of the bed.
Chase sat because it was easier than arguing. But he watched Wilson clean the area, wincing only a little as he probed it, and assuring him he didn't cause any serious damage to himself. "I was just a bit clumsy," Chase insisted.
Wilson nodded, head bent as he taped a square of thick gauze over Chase's knee with flexible tape. "Thing is, you don't strike me as the clumsy type. If fact you have this innate grace to you."
"You make it sound like you watch me a lot," Chase replied, feeling unnerved at the thought.
"I have been lately," Wilson allowed. He patted Chase on the thigh then stood up. "You're good to go. Finish getting dressed and I'll have supper on the table."
Chase said nothing to that, he just watched him go. Then he got up and grabbed his jeans, carefully pulling them on. They were baggy enough not to be tight around his knee. He'd take some aspirin later because he knew it was going to ache. That done he headed for the door but caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. He looked pale and thin and haunted. Chase turned away not wanting to see the truth. He much preferred the lie.
In the kitchen, Wilson had everything ready. Chase studied the food on his plate and wished he could say a spell and make it disappear. Being Harry Potter right now would have been wonderful. He could make all the bad things in his life disappear. Then again, that didn't work for Harry either. His thoughts were running away with him, which meant he really needed to get some sleep soon, Chase made himself focus on eating.
"You okay?" Wilson asked, between bites of his own food.
"Why do you ask?" Chase countered. Because he was getting tired of the question. He twirled spaghetti around his fork but ended up eating only a small bit of it. He wasn't the least bit hungry tonight and would have skipped dinner if Wilson wasn't around.
After a pause for a drink of water, Wilson replied, "Because you look like shit."
Chase almost appreciated his candor. "It was a long day," he admitted.
"Maybe you should stay home tomorrow." Wilson looked sincere. "It was too soon for you to go back to work."
"It's not!" Chase felt anger sparking through him and he tried to control it. He hated losing control like this, but he was struggling with it every day now. It used to be easier to control his emotions. He wanted everything to go back to the way it had been. His life had never been perfect, but now it felt like everything was fucked up and twisted. He glared at Wilson in spite of his best efforts. "I just need time to get back in to the routine. It'll get easier for me."
Wilson nodded, not looking the least bit convinced. "Just be careful, Chase. If you push yourself too hard you're going to make it harder on yourself in the long run."
Feeling disgruntled, Chase stabbed at a meatball, but he didn't eat it. "You know...I've been taking care of myself since I was a kid. I don't need your advice."
"Everyone needs help now and then, Chase," Wilson countered. "And some people are wise enough to accept it."
"But you think I'm as stupid as House does!" Chase shot back. And he would have taken back the words if he could have. It was a testimony to how tired he was that they came out of him. He shook his head. "Forget I said that. I'm just tired."
Wilson wasn't buying his excuse. "I don't think you're stupid, Chase. Neither does House. If you were stupid he wouldn't have hired you. But you have a tendency to make stupid choices. Which is actually understandable given your background."
Chase was stunned by what Wilson was saying. "Why is it understandable? Because my mother drank herself to death and my father didn't give a damn? That makes me make stupid choices?" He was fighting not to yell and the effort to keep his voice soft made his throat ache.
"It means you didn't have the parental guidance kids need while growing up," Wilson said, keeping his voice soft as well. "We're supposed to learn from our parents."
"Learn what?" Chase snapped. "How not to raise our own children in the future? What not to do? I learned those lessons well, thank you!" Sarcasm practically oozed from him. "I'll never be like my father!"
Wilson nodded. "But you're trapped in your mother's web. Her influence on you is something you haven't been able to shake. It's something you're trying to avoid dealing with."
Chase had had enough. "What are you? Taking over for Dr. Burns? I don't need to be evaluated in my own house!" He got up and made to storm out, but a hand on his arm pulled him back. Wilson looked apologetic. Chase pulled away from him, stumbling a bit. "Look..."
"No, I'm sorry!" Wilson interjected. "I'm not here to make things harder for you. I was out of line. I said what I said out of concern."
"Why do you even care?" Chase shot back? "I'm nothing to you! We're not friends or even colleagues really. So why would you care?"
Wilson made a face, then made an attempt to explain. "People care, Chase. At least...some people do. It's part of human nature to care about each other. And even though we've never been close, I've come to know you better in the past few months. I like what I know. So...I care. It's that simple."
Chase made the effort to calm down. Stressing out was making his head ache and his stomach twist into knots. He took a few slow breaths and managed to ease his anxiety a bit. Locking eyes with Wilson he said, "Fine. I'm sorry I overreacted. I think I'm just going to go to bed."
"Okay." Wilson looked almost relieved. "But there's something I'd like to talk about before you go. If you don't mind."
"What is it?" Chase wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he did want to get it over with.
Wilson shuffled his feet, looking uncomfortable. "I know you don't want me here and I feel intrusive enough without paying my own way. So I'd like to start paying rent. That way we can both look at this as more of a business deal."
Chase hadn't expected this and it threw him a bit. "I don't need your money."
"That's not the point," Wilson countered. "I'd feel better paying you something."
"Fine. Whatever. Do what you like." Chase turned and headed for the door. "Goodnight," he called over his shoulder. He heard Wilson reply as he reached the stairs. Chase made it to his room, stripped off his jeans, then he crawled into bed. But fifteen minutes later he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep without help. So he got up and fished out the bottle of sleeping pills. He shook one out then another. He knew one wasn't going to cut it and he was desperate for a good night's sleep.
Filling a glass with water, Chase downed the pills then he crawled back into bed. He counted backwards from one hundred, just to distract his mind, and before he reached twenty, he was asleep.
OoO
"Chase!"
He heard his name being called, then someone was shaking him. He had to pretty much peel his eyes open, then blink hard to bring Wilson's face into focus. "Wh-what?" he mumbled.
Wilson looked grim. In one hand he was holding the bottle of sleeping pills. "How many did you take?"
"What?" Chase felt more awake now and he pushed himself upright.
"How many pills did you take?" Wilson repeated, shaking the bottle.
Chase caught his breath in shock as he realized he must have left the bottle out. Stupid of him. Then again, Wilson shouldn't have come into his room uninvited. "Give me those!" Chase reached for the bottle but Wilson pulled it away.
Looking angry, Wilson locked eyes with Chase. "How many? Two? Three?"
"Two!" Chase snapped. "Not that it's any of your business?"
"Really?" Wilson was snapping now too. "It becomes my business when I can't wake you up!"
Chase glanced at his watch. He had over slept by two hours. So much for his run today. If he didn't get up and in the shower, he was going to be late for work. "I was tired," he said as he tossed back the covers. The moment he was on his feet he remembered his sore knee. He winced and tried not to limp as he headed for the bathroom.
Wilson followed him. "How long have you been taking sleeping pills?" he persisted.
"Not long and not that often," Chase lied. He turned the water on then turned to look at Wilson. "Do you mind? I have to get ready for work."
"How long is not long?" Wilson asked, not budging from the doorway.
Chase shrugged, making himself remain calm. He wasn't going to let Wilson blow this out of proportion. "I don't keep track. You're not going to mention this to House, are you?" That thought sent a surge of panic through Chase that he was hard put to cover up.
Wilson shrugged, cold determination glittering in his eyes. "Should I?"
"Do what you want," Chase said, trying to sound like he didn't care. If he made it sound too important, Wilson would mention it to House for sure. Chase didn't need more drama in his life right now.
"I'm taking the pills," Wilson said, shoving them in his pocket. "If you need something to help you sleep in the future, ask me for it."
Chase was angry about that, but let it slide for now. He would simply stop at a drug store and get more. Screw Wilson. "Fine," he said quietly. "Can I shower now?"
Wilson nodded. "I'll be waiting downstairs. I'm driving you to work today." With that he was gone, closing the door behind him.
"Fuck," Chase muttered, then he stripped and stepped into the shower. He knew it was going to be a long day.
OoO
He made it to work barely on time and House cracked jokes about him and Wilson. It felt blissfully normal for all of ten seconds. Then House was shoving a bagel in front of Chase and watching him intently. Which meant Chase had to eat it, even though he felt like gagging after about three bites. Still, he managed to finish most of it by the time they're meeting was done.
"Father Anthony won't let Cameron or Foreman near him to get more tests done," House stated, looking directly at Chase. "In fact, he asked for you so you get to do all the work today. Neat, huh? But the cool thing is, Foreman's going to do your clinic hours for today."
"What?" Foreman interjected. "Why?"
House glared at him. "Because I said so. Which is so much fun for me." He waved hand at Foreman who got the hint and left.
Chase watched Cameron follow him, then he focused on House. "Don't expect me to do any better with Father Anthony. He just wants to rant at me." A sudden image of another priest filled his head. A man who looked a bit like Father Anthony and whose tone was just as blistering as he chastised Chase yet again. He shook the image away and stood up.
"So rant back at him," House advised. "After your weigh in." He gestured Chase into the office.
"It's stupid to do this so often," Chase protested. "Mainly because he knew he hadn't gained anything and he really wasn't in the mood for House's bitching.
House shrugged. "It amuses me. Get on the scale."
But before Chase could take a step forward, Cuddy came breezing in looking furious.
"We need to talk, House!" she snapped at him.
"Later." House made a shooing gesture at her.
Cuddy didn't budge. "Now." She looked at Chase and said, "You can go."
He nodded and left, not looking a gift horse in the mouth. He headed down the hallway and all too soon he was entering Father Anthony's room. "Good morning," he said, trying to be pleasant.
"What's good about it?" Father Anthony replied. Then he went into a rant about sin and sinners and felt the need to bring Cameron and Foreman into it.
Chase listened to it for a time, then he quietly interjected with, ""If, though, despite these things, you will not listen to me, I shall then have to chastise you seven times as much for your sins." He watched as Father Anthony cut off in mid rant and stared at him with his mouth gaped open.
After a moment the Priest recovered himself and demanded, "How do you know that passage?"
"Seminary school," Chase replied, as he began to take Father Anthony's vitals. "I went for a short time."
"You would have made a lousy priest," Father Anthony replied.
Chase nodded. "I know," he said quietly. He had always known his faith would not be strong enough. "Happy is the man that has not walked in the counsel of the wicked ones, and in the way of sinners has not stood, and in the seat of ridiculers has not sat," he quoted blithely.
Father Anthony gazed at him with narrowed eyes.
"You don't seem happy," Chase continued. He figured Father Anthony shouldn't be casting stones while living in a glass house.
"Gods work is difficult," Father Anthony countered, looking angry.
Chase understood that better than most. "We're all sinners so you have your work cut out for you."
Shifting in the bed, Father Anthony looked disquieted. He stared at Chase for a long moment then said, "Those other doctors said I needed more tests. Do them. I need to get better."
"Thank you," Chase replied. "That's what we're here for." He rang for a nurse to bring what he needed and to call for them to set up for a MRI. He turned away for a moment when the nurse arrived, but turned back when Father Anthony started choking. Chase helped him sit up more and was about to ask what felt wrong when Father Anthony coughed up blood. Chase let the nurse support him while he checked Father Anthony's stomach. "He has internal bleeding!" he shouted. "Call the OR!"
Within fifteen minutes Chase was standing at the glass window, watching as Father Anthony was cut open. Five minutes later he listened as the man flat lined and felt oddly empty and detached as he watched the surgeon turn to look up at him and give a thumbs down. He just stood there for a time, before leaving to give House the news.
Cameron and Foreman were in the conference room and House was in his office. Chase watched him come into the conference room, even as he entered. "Father Anthony just died in the OR," Chase announced.
"What happened?" Cameron asked.
"He bled out." Chase moved to the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee that he didn't want. He just needed something to do. But he ended up not drinking it because his hand was shaking too much to hold the mug.
Foreman looked surprised but resigned. "Guess we need a new patient then."
House made a face. "Cameron, go find us something. Foreman, go oversee the autopsy then bring me the report."
"I'm going to go to ICU," Chase announced. He needed to keep busy.
"Go to the clinic and do my hours instead," House told him.
Chase stared at him in surprise. He had expected the Inquisition from House, but the man was just letting him go. Which was fine with Chase. He walked out and down to the clinic and found Cameron waiting for him.
She touched his arm and eyed him with concern. "Are you okay?"
"Sure," Chase replied. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"I dunno...you just look...upset." she replied.
Chase shook his head. "I'm fine." It was a blatant lie and for a moment he feared she wouldn't believe him, but then she was nodding and stepping back, giving him some breathing space. "House sent me to do his clinic hours."
Cameron didn't look surprised. "Maybe between us we'll find a new case."
"Hope so." He meant it. Turning away, Chase headed for the nurses station to sign in. He smiled at the head nurse as he scribbled in House's name, then he accepted the chart she handed him.
"Chase?"
He turned to find Cameron watching him. "Yeah?"
She looked hesitant, but then she blurted out, "Foreman and I were going to go to dinner after work. Just to chill out for a bit. Would you like to come with us?"
"Sure." He surprised himself with the answer, then again, maybe not. He didn't want to go home tonight. He knew Wilson would be watching him too closely. "Um...Wilson was my ride. Would you be able to drop me off home after?"
"No problem." Cameron looked pleased. "Guess we'd better get to work."
Chase smiled at her. "Yeah."
Cameron still hesitated. "Um...I'm your lunch buddy today so I'll snag you when it's time."
"Right." Chase wasn't happy about that, but he'd deal. Cameron was far easier to distract than House was. So he nodded at her then headed for exam room one. But the image he carried with him was of Father Anthony coughing up blood.
THE END...of part 17