REWIND...part 18
He hid out in the clinic for the rest of the day, other than being dragged off to lunch by Cameron. Chase had wished then that he could just blow her off and go for a run instead, but Cameron was like a dog with a bone in regards to her desire to help him deal with a condition he didn't even have. Which translated into the fact that she took her job as a food buddy very seriously. Chase gave himself points for not giving in to the temptation to dump his lunch over her head. He also felt he deserved points for keeping lunch down. His stomach was way too full, but it had been easier to simply eat than deal with Cameron asking if he wanted something else or if he was okay.
The rest of his shift went easier. None of the clinic patients came in with anything major to deal with, and Chase was somewhat able to float along with his mind just distracted enough to keep him from feeling like he wanted to punch the wall, or at the very least crawl out of his own skin. Although it was probably the two cans of Coke that were making him jittery, on top of the three cups of black coffee. At one point Chase thought he might truly be able to climb up the wall, he was so agitated.
He was with a patient when Foreman came to get him. Chase finished up then collected his gear from the locker room, grateful that Foreman had grabbed his messenger bag for him from the conference room. Now he didn't have to worry about running into House. He wasn't feeling up to dealing with the man right now.
"Where's Cameron?" Chase asked, as they exited the building and made their way to the parking lot.
"She took off early, said she had to run some errands and she'll meet us," Foreman replied. He led Chase over to a black BMW, using the keypad to unlock the doors.
Chase took a moment to appreciate the car. "Nice," he commented.
Forman looked a bit rueful. "Should be for the price."
"Yeah." Chase knew they weren't cheap.
"Drop in the bucket for you though," Foreman continued, as they got in and buckled up.
Chase didn't have a response for that. He knew Foreman resented the fact he had money and he wasn't in the mood to argue about something he had no control over. He had never seen it as his money anyway. Foreman, apparently, didn't seem to feel the need to continue either, for which Chase was grateful. They made the drive to the bar in relatively companionable silence. Which lasted until Chase exited the car and his knee decided to buckle on him. "Dammit!" he hissed under his breath as he caught himself with a hand on the car door.
Foreman was by his side in an instant. "You okay?"
"Fine." Chase tested his knee. It ached and was sore, but hadn't bothered him all that much till now. During the day he had found himself limping a few times, but he'd managed to compensate for it. But now the bastard was acting up. Perfect timing. Great way to end his crappy day. Pushing away from the car, he made himself take a few steps. Painful, but nothing unbearable. He felt a bit of dampness though, against the bandage which he'd check on later.
"You don't look fine," Foreman stated, moving to Chase's side with one hand out. As if prepared to catch him or something.
Chase waved him off. "I'm good. I just...I tripped and fell yesterday. Just a stupid fall and I banged my knee a bit. It's nothing."
Foreman studied him a moment, then nodded. "More embarrassing than anything else?" he guessed.
"Pretty much." Chase was more than happy to go along with that explanation. Playing the fool was always easier than explaining yourself to people who really didn't give a damn anyway. He headed for the door, Foreman close behind, and the moment he was inside he spotted Cameron at a corner table. "We're with her," Chase said, pointing Cameron out to the waitress who came to greet them.
"Follow me." The waitress smiled at Chase, giving him a blatant once over.
Which Foreman didn't miss. In fact, he snorted his amusement. "Wish you could teach me how to do that," he said, clapping Chase on the shoulder. "Must be your superpower."
Chase had to grin at that. "I'd rather have the power of invisibility," he replied.
"I thought you already did," Foreman shot back, his tone serious.
"Funny," Chase commented, but what Foreman said bothered him. Even though that's what he often tried to do. Be invisible. He just hadn't really thought anyone had noticed. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Although right now he was too tired to care either way. Instead he followed the waitress and plastered on a smile as he reached Cameron.
She smiled back. "I ordered us a round of drinks," she stated.
Chase was surprised by that. All the more so when he took a sip of his and realized it was his favorite. Which meant Cameron paid way more attention to personal details than he felt comfortable with, but he managed to smile and thank her. Then he took another sip. He was hoping the alcohol would help him to chill out.
The waitress handed out menus but Chase didn't need it and said as much. Cameron echoed him and Foreman stated he'd be ready to order by the time they had. So Chase ordered a cheese burger and a salad. He figured that would be fattening enough for Cameron to stay off his back. He listened to her order a turkey sandwich with fries, while Foreman ordered a cheeseburger with fries. While the waitress scribbled it all down, she managed to flirt with Chase at the same time. He offered her a smile since he found it rather amusing and a bit flattering.
The moment the waitress left, Foreman teased Chase about the waitress. Again. "She's warm for your form, man."
"You're just jealous," Chase shot back, rather enjoying the exchange. It wasn't personal and it felt basically normal for them. And normality was something he craved right now.
"She's awfully pretty," Foreman conceded.
Cameron made a face and said, "She's too old for you." Then she covered her mouth and her eyes went wide. She was obviously horrified by what she'd said. "Oh...Chase, I'm so sorry. That was stupid of me."
He shook his head at her. "Don't worry about it." The comment did make him think of Vanessa, but with fondness rather than grief. It made Chase wonder if he was immune to grief at this point, or maybe he had never really experienced it first hand. Or maybe he was just too used to it and it felt more comforting than anything else at this point.
"Making any progress with House?" Foreman interjected, directing his comment to Cameron.
"Progress?" she repeated, although it was clear she knew what he meant.
Foreman snorted. "Ask him on any more dates?"
Cameron's reply was to throw a wadded napkin at Foreman, then turn the tables on him. "So who's Cecelia?" she queried.
"Beats me," Foreman smoothly countered.
"Someone new?" Chase jumped in, more because he was happy to have the focus off of him than because he was interested.
Foreman mock glared at him. "She's a woman."
Chase laughed. "I never would have guessed that by the name." Then he and Cameron spent the next ten minutes teasing Foreman about her and getting very few details. But it killed time until the food arrived. Chase stared at the burger set in front of him, the Waitress handing out his first. It was huge, more like a super burger than a plain old cheese burger. The salad wasn't much better. There was enough in the bowl to feed all three of them.
"Now that's a burger," Foreman commented, eyeing his with appreciation.
"Texas sized," Cameron noted, then she turned her attention to Chase. "Some milk would be good with that, don't you think?" She didn't allow him to reply before giving the order to the waitress for a large glass of milk.
It was the last thing Chase wanted, but he didn't argue the point. Arguing with Cameron was senseless, he knew that from experience. It would be less stressful to bang his head against the wall. So Chase tuned everything out and focused on taking a bite of his burger. It tasted fine, but he wasn't the least bit hungry. In fact, chewing and swallowing took his complete concentration. Once he got it down, he was grateful to the milk that was delivered right on cue. He wasn't sure the burger would have stayed down if he didn't chase it with a few swallows of milk. After that, Chase picked up his fork. He figured he'd do better with the salad.
They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, then Foreman brought up work. "You know, I still can't believe we lost Father Anthony so fast. Although, all things considered, it's something of a miracle that he lived as long as he did. His internal organs were a mess."
"You don't think divine intervention had anything to do with it, do you?" Cameron queried, looking more than a little skeptical.
"Hell no!" Foreman looked amused. "I think the bastard was too damn miserable to kick off sooner. He held on just to make other people miserable right along with him. I swear, for a Priest who's supposed to love his fellow man...he hated everyone." Foreman glanced over at Chase. "Except for you. You he seemed to like."
Chase shook his head at that. "He didn't like me, I just surprised him is all."
Cameron stared at him with curiosity shining in her eyes. "Surprised him how?" she prompted.
"I knew someone like him in Seminary, Father Michael," Chase replied. And he was rather surprised at himself for doing so. He never talked about himself for a reason, but in a sense this was a safer topic than at least a dozen he could think of. So when Foreman and Cameron eyed him with curiosity, he decided to explain himself. At least a little bit. If only to keep Cameron from hounding him about eating. It was bad enough she was watching every bite he took. "Father Michael took an interest in me when I started seminary, but not for the reasons I had supposed."
"What reasons then?" Foreman asked.
Chase sighed. "My parent's wealth. He considered money to be...evil."
Cameron gave a decidedly unladylike snort of disapproval. "That's ridiculous!"
"Maybe so, but he believed it," Chase replied. "But I had bigger sins than that."
"Like what?" Foreman looked genuinely interested to know.
Before Chase could respond, Cameron interjected by pointing at Chase's plate and issuing an order. "Keep eating."
To appease her he took a bite of the salad, ignoring the way she was watching him with a frown on her face. A swallow of milk forced the food down, then Chase answered Foreman. Sort of. "You really don't want to hear about this," he stated. Because now that he had started talking about it, Chase felt uncomfortable. He had never told anyone about his talks with Father Michael.
"I do," Foreman insisted. "Come on, man. What was your big sin?"
"My looks," Chase said, feeling his face flush a bit. How he looked had been an issue for him for as long as he could remember. Mostly in a negative way.
Cameron made a face. "Your looks?" she repeated.
Chase dropped his eyes to his burger, tearing the bun a part for something to do. House's words about anorexics whispered in his head and Chase mentally cursed the man. He didn't realize he had become distracted by his own actions until Foreman tapped him on the shoulder.
"So what about your looks?" he queried. And he looked vaguely interested in a reply.
"Father Michael believed that pretty people..." he paused to make quotation marks in the air before continuing, "...were sinners because they sold their souls to the devil for their looks."
Foreman laughed at that, almost snorting his drink out his nose since he had been taking a swallow.
Cameron was not amused, she was indignant. "That's ridiculous!" she ranted. "How a person looks is purely genetics!"
"Yeah, I told him that," Chase replied, but his mind was slipping into the past. He still clearly remembered sitting in the front pew of the church with Father Michael looming over him. He'd been angry at what the Father was saying, denying it by pointing out that he looked like his mother. And Father Michael's reply still had the power to hurt.
"She was a sinner too, Robert! That's why she became ugly before she died. God punished her for her sins!"
A touch on his arm drew him out of his reverie and Chase was surprised to see Cameron eyeing him with concern.
She rubbed his arm and asked, "You okay?"
"Fine." He drew his arm away under the pretext of reaching for his drink. He took a swallow even though he really didn't want anything in his stomach right now. His insides felt like they were twisted into knots.
"Chase..." Cameron began, only to be interrupted by the waitress who appeared with slices of cheesecake.
She smiled at Chase as she set a slice in front of him. "On the house," she whispered, leaning in to him and setting a napkin deliberately in front of him. It had a name and a phone number scrawled across it.
Chase was surprised but tried not to let it show. He slid the napkin into his pocket before Cameron or Foreman could see it, then smiled at the waitress. "Thanks."
"Do you need anything else?" she asked, sounding hopeful.
"We're good," Cameron interjected, her tone sharp.
Chase found himself rather amused by her sudden need to be protective of him, yet at the same time he allowed her to run the waitress off. Only to regret it when Foreman started grinning at him.
Leaning in, Foreman whispered, "So you got her number and dessert and you didn't even have to tell her you're a doctor. Smooth, Chase."
"You're an ass," he replied, hoping Foreman would just drop it.
"You should eat that," Cameron jumped in, pointing to the cheesecake. "You can use the calories."
Chase blinked at her. "Pot...Kettle," he replied, dead pan. He heard Foreman snort in reaction but didn't take his eyes off Cameron's face. She looked a bit hurt but shook it off.
Pushing the plate at him she repeated, "Eat."
"You eat." Chase pushed back his chair and stood up. "Anyone for a game of pool?" He looked hopefully at Foreman, willing the guy to get him off the hook here. And, for once, Foreman came through.
"I'm in." Foreman stood up as well.
Cameron got up looking frustrated. "Chase, you hardly touched your dinner," she complained.
Foreman responded before Chase could. "Give him a break, okay? He'll eat when he's hungry."
"What he said," Chase stated, before Cameron could argue the point. He tossed a fifty on the table. "My treat," then he headed for the back room where the pool table stood. He was well aware of the silent glances that passed between Cameron and Foreman as he reached for a pool stick. "Who wants to break?" Chase asked.
"You can," Foreman offered, grabbing a stick of his own.
The next hour passed smoothly, with Chase trouncing Foreman, then Cameron, the Foreman again consecutively. Cameron was about to play him again when her phone rang.
She fumbled in her pants pocket for a moment. "Hello?"
Chase ignored her until she started stammering. Then it hit him who she was talking too. Moving to confront her he asked, "Is it House?" The guilty look on her face was all the confirmation Chase needed. He grabbed the phone and snapped, "House...what do you want?"
"Did you eat?" House didn't mince words.
"Yes, Dad!" Chase shot back, then he closed the phone and handed it back over to Cameron. "You know what? I'm tired." He put his stick back then said to Cameron, "I'll call a cab. Thanks for the invite."
Cameron blocked him when he tried to leave. "I told you I'd drive you home."
Chase shook his head. "You don't have to." In truth he didn't want her too. He wanted to be alone. Or at least not alone with a stranger who wouldn't hover over him.
"I'll take you," Cameron stated firmly, then she grabbed him by the arm and practically hauled him towards the exit.
"I really don't mind calling a cab," Chase said, figuring it wouldn't hurt to give it one more shot.
But Cameron was determined. "I want to drive you home and, before you ask why, it's because I want to make sure you get home safe. Otherwise I'll worry. So it's about my needs, not yours. Okay?"
Her desire to convince him that she really wasn't trying to babysit him, made Chase laugh and forgive her blatant attempts. "Fine...you can drive me," he said, giving in. They almost made it out the door when the waitress appeared.
"Have a good night," she called out to Chase. "Hope to hear from you."
"Goodnight," Chase replied, and that was all Cameron would allow him to say. She practically shoved him out the door then led him over to her car. He got into the passenger seat and was grateful for the quiet. He was still fighting off a headache and after buckling up, Chase leaned his head back against the seat and massaged his temples.
Cameron glanced over at him. "You okay?"
Grimacing, Chase lowered his hands and offered a smile. "I'm fine. Just tired, like I said."
"You didn't eat much," Cameron chastised. "You're never going to get better if you don't eat."
"I don't have to get better," he shot back. "I'm not sick." And once again anger flared inside him. Only he didn't want to be angry with Cameron. She didn't mean any harm with her concern, but it just felt like one more person trying to smother him to their own will.
Cameron looked like she was going to argue the point, then she started the car instead and eased into traffic. But just as Chase started to relax, she picked back up again, but in a different tack. "Why don't you ever talk about yourself?" she asked, or rather more demanded. "I mean...what you told us about Father Michael? That was the most you've ever said about yourself in the three years I've known you."
Chase gave her an amused look. "If I did talk about myself, who would listen or care?"
"I would," she said, quietly.
"You'd be bored," Chase shot back, because he didn't want her to say things like that. She wasn't supposed to care about him. Which was why he immediately segued into something else, so neither one of them had to think about this. "Seen any good movies lately?"
Thankfully, Cameron got the hint to move on and they chit-chatted the rest of the way to Chase's house without getting into anything more intensely personal than each other's preference for Batman movies. The moment Cameron eased the car to a stop, Chase was unbuckling and reaching for the door knob.
Cameron gripped his shoulder to stop him. When he turned to face her she said, "It's okay to let people care about you, Chase."
"I don't need people to care about me," he replied, shrugging off her hand and stepping out of the car. Before she could even think about getting out he was leaning in to tell her, "Thanks for the ride, and the dinner invite. I had fun." With that he shut the car door and headed up the steps. He was relieved when Cameron didn't follow him and he heard the sounds of the car pulling away.
The moment Chase was inside, he heard sounds from the kitchen and the light was on, which meant Wilson was there. Heading straight upstairs was Chase's only thought, but before he could even reach the stairs, Wilson appeared.
He studied Chase a moment, then asked, "How's the leg?"
"It's fine." And even as he answered, Chase realized he had been limping on it. He froze. After a moment of awkward silence he said, "I'm going to bed." Making himself not limp, Chase swept past Wilson and climbed the stairs. He took a shower and changed the bandage on his knee. After pulling on boxers, sweat pants and a t-shirt he called into bed and grabbed the remote. He actually was tired enough to doze off in the middle of the program he had been half-heartedly watching. But he dreamed about his mother and the Seminary. After jolting awake a few times, the last in a cold sweat, he gave up the pretense of sleeping. He was reaching for the remote when he heard footsteps moving past his room and realized it had to be Wilson. Leaving the channel alone, Chase waited. After half an hour passed without any other noises he slid out of bed and pulled on socks. Locating his running shoes, he grabbed a hoodie and pulled it on, then he slipped out of his room, down the stairs and out the door.
He couldn't run very well though, not with his sore knee. But he still managed to go a mile out and back before practically stumbling into the house. Stopping in the kitchen, Chase raided the fridge in search of Gatorade, but there wasn't any. He figured that was probably Wilson's doing but he was too tired to even mentally curse the man out. Instead he settled for bottled water, downing half of it before heading up the stairs. He was limping heavily and when he reached his bathroom he downed four aspirin before hitting the shower.
By the time Chase was dressed in clean boxers and tee, he was trembling with exhaustion, which was just what he had been hoping for. When he crawled into bed and closed his eyes, he fell asleep almost instantly. And he made it through the night without dreaming.
OoO
His body gave him a wake up call, six hours later. Chase felt achy and his knee burned where the covers brushed it. He hadn't bothered to bandage it after his last shower. Tossing aside the covers, he studied the injury and saw the skin was tight and dry. He'd slather ointment on it then bandage it after a hot shower. He was hoping the heat from the water would ease the ache in his muscles.
The shower did seem to help a bit, and he was sure the four aspirin would help as well. Pulling on boxers, Chase took care of his knee then got dressed for the day. He pulled out black khaki's and a blue shirt with a tan and blue tie. A dark blue jacket completed the ensemble and he tied on sneakers, deciding to be comfortable today. Once he ran a brush through his hair he was ready to head downstairs.
Surprisingly, Wilson wasn't up yet. Chase busied himself making eggs and toast and by the time the toast was buttered, Wilson had appeared, dressed and ready for the day. "Hope you're hungry," Chase said, setting a platter heaping with scrambled eggs and toast on the table. He had a point to make. Like the fact he was fine and didn't need anyone watching over him.
"Smells good," Wilson said, taking a seat. He filled his plate then watched Chase fill his. "Did you sleep well?"
"Well enough," Chase replied. He didn't take as much on his plate as Wilson had, but it was enough. "You?" he countered.
Wilson smiled and nodded. "The mattress on my bed is very comfortable."
Chase almost smiled back. "Good," he said, then he focused on eating. He was grateful when Wilson did the same and didn't feel the need for inane chitchat. Besides which, talking would no doubt just aggravate the headache that was throbbing in his temples. It was making him lose what little appetite he might have had as it was. To the point where he managed to wade through only half his serving of eggs and a few bites of toast. Glancing at his watch, Chase made an excuse to leave the table. "I'd like to get into work early so I'm going to brush my teeth then take off." He didn't wait for Wilson's reply, instead rapidly exiting the room and heading straight up to his room.
He barely made it to the toilet before emptying his stomach contents. Scrambled eggs coming back up tasted gross. The moment he was done dry heaving, Chase rinsed his mouth with a mix of water and mouthwash, then he brushed his teeth. Twice. After splashing cold water on his face and brushing his hair again, he felt ready to face the world. More or less.
Coming out of the bathroom, he froze to see Wilson sitting on his bed. The look on the other man's face let Chase know that Wilson had heard him heaving. "Did you want something?" Chase asked, trying to keep his tone casual.
"Feel better?" Wilson countered, his eyes roving over Chase's face with an intensity that Chase could almost feel.
"I'm fine," he replied. "I just ate too much, too fast. Never pays to be a glutton."
Wilson sighed. "We both know the problem is that you're not eating enough. And when you do eat it's the wrong thing as a rule. Your body isn't strong enough for the abuse you're putting it through."
Chase felt offended by that. "Abuse?" he hissed. "What are you talking about?"
"Like running when you're too worn out and injured," Wilson shot back, not missing a beat. "You don't eat enough to fuel your body and you know that, Chase." He paused a moment then added, "Too many sleeping pills aren't helping either. You're system is out of whack."
"Is that sound medical terminology?" Chase shot back, fighting hard against the anger that was rising like bile in the back of his throat.
Wilson stood up and moved into a confrontational stance before Chase, arms crossed over his chest and determination scripted into his face. "I want to do physical work up on you. We can go in right now, before anyone else gets in."
Chase was stunned and shook his head. "No!" He shouted the word even though he didn't mean too. He didn't want to lose control of this situation. All he wanted was to be left alone to live his life and he was getting so damn tired of people fucking with him. He knew Wilson meant well, but it was grating on Chase and eroding his ability to keep his cool under pressure. An ability he had learned at an early age and honed to perfection. An ability that served him well in working with House.
"I'm going to do the exam," Wilson countered quietly. "But I can do it on the side so that it stays between us...or I can mention it to House and you know how he'll react."
"You can't force this issue," Chase countered. "You're not my doctor."
Wilson shrugged. "Better me than House. And you know he's listed as your physician and you know that he is in control of your life right now."
Chase did know and he felt an overwhelming sense of fear and frustration. Which he didn't have the luxury to wallow in. Instead he forced himself not to think about what the repercussions would be if he refused what Wilson was forcing on him. Which meant he did what he always did, and gave in. "Fine...I'll meet you there." He made to walk past Wilson but a hand caught his arm.
"I'll drive," Wilson insisted. "You're still shaky."
"Whatever." Chase really didn't need a reminder of his present condition. Let Wilson think he was shaky from being sick. In truth he was shaky because he was scared. The kicker being he wasn't even sure what he was scared of. Which made it worse. His fear was like a metallic taste in the back of his throat and he could swallow hard enough to get rid of it. Instead it lingered and made him feel ill. He just hoped to God what he felt didn't show.
Wilson nodded and headed out the door, obviously expecting Chase to follow him.
Which he did. They got in Wilson's car and Chase didn't say a word all the way to the hospital. Wilson seemed to respect his silence. He only spoke once they entered the lobby. "We can use an exam room in the clinic."
"Fine." Chase could hear how clipped his tone was as he followed Wilson to the clinic. He found himself relieved to see Nurse Barbara Jenkins at the desk. She was very discreet and he knew she wouldn't mention to anyone that he and Wilson had been there. So he waited while Wilson explained he needed to borrow the back room for a few minutes, then Chase followed the other man into the room. "Is this really necessary?" he asked, as he watched Wilson close the door.
"I think it is," Wilson said firmly. "Sit." He pointed to the exam table.
Feeling uncomfortable, Chase did as he told. Removing his jacket when Wilson asked him too. Then he suffered through having his heart and lungs checked, his pulse and blood pressure taken, his eyes examined then the thermometer shoved into his ear. "Happy now?" Chase asked, when he felt sure Wilson was finally through. The man was scribbling something on a chart sheet on the side counter.
Wilson looked up at him. "No, not yet. I'm going to draw some blood."
"Why?" Chase was stunned at the thought. He had allowed the exam, figuring it would get Wilson off his back, but this was pushing things too far.
"I think you're anemic and that's something we can take care of," Wilson replied, his tone grave. "And that's a start anyway." He pointed to Chase's left arm where he had just rolled down his sleeve after having his BP done. "Roll it back up."
Chase considered refusing, but he knew Wilson would just use the threat of telling House against him. So he rolled up his sleeve and held out his arm. Wilson was good with needles and Chase felt nothing more than a bit of a pinch. He watched his blood flowing into the tube almost abstractly. Three vials of it in fact. "Gonna make up things to test for?" he asked, as Wilson removed the needle, swiped his arm with a cotton swab then stuck a Band-Aid over the puncture.
A smile curved Wilson's mouth at that. "Maybe I'm a vampire," he countered, with mock seriousness. "I used to want to be one when I was a kid."
"A vampire?" Chase echoed, laughing a bit in spite of still being pissed at the guy.
"Seemed cool at the time." Wilson was pulling off his rubber gloves and tossing them aside. "What about you? What did you want to be as a kid?"
It wasn't in his nature to answer what he would normally consider too personal a question, but the answer was out before he could stop it. "A priest."
Wilson turned and stared at him in surprise. "Really? Why a priest?"
"Because they talk to God," Chase said softly, as he worked his shirt sleeve back down and buttoned the cuff. "At least that's what I believed until I was ten."
"What made you believe otherwise?" Wilson prompted, looking sincerely interested.
But Chase had said too much and he felt too exposed. Sliding off the table he intended to change the subject but the moment his feet hit the ground his knees buckled. He grabbed at the table for support and found strong hands gripping his shoulders.
Wilson was pushing Chase down onto the nearby stool. "Put your head down."
He did it only because he wanted the dizziness to pass. A moment later he lifted his head and said, "I'm fine."
"You need to get some food in you," Wilson countered, and his eyes glinted with something close to anger. But whether it was anger in general or anger at Chase he couldn't tell and, truthfully, he didn't want to know.
"I'll grab something on my way upstairs," Chase promised. Because he knew they were the magic words to getting out of the room. And they worked, he was allowed out the door and he was tempted to run all the way. Instead he walked by Nurse Jenkins and headed for the nearest food machine. He plopped some change in and picked out a granola bar. The one thing Chase did remember about today was that he had another weigh in with House. So he forced himself to finish off the granola bar before heading to diagnostics.
Unfortunately, the room wasn't empty as he had hoped it would be. The surprise being that House was the one occupying it. The man was never early or even usually on time, so to see him here now was almost shocking.
House had been writing on the white board, but he stopped as Chase entered the room.
"Are you sick?" Chase asked, as he moved to the side table and, another shocker, the coffee was already made so he poured himself a cup.
"Just messing with you," House replied, moving to join him and hold out his own mug for a refill. "We have a case," he announced.
Chase put the coffee pot back on the pad then stared at House in surprise. "Really? Where from?"
House looked amused. "Meandered into the emergency room apparently. Cuddy called me last night and greeted me with the file first thing."
"What are the symptoms?" Chase found himself almost eager to begin diagnosing. Work was something familiar and comfortable. Something he could lose himself in.
"Weigh in first," House countered, popping Chase's tiny bubble of almost happiness. He limped towards his office, stopping at the door. "Come on, slim."
Chase grimaced at the nickname, knowing House was just trying to aggravate him. Sadly, it was working. Still, he followed the older man into his office, noticing that the scale was already in place on the floor. Sitting there waiting for him. Mocking him, really. Chase found himself glaring at the stupid thing. Until House's cane tapped on it, shaking him out of his reverie.
House was watching Chase closely. "Step up, no lines, no waiting," he taunted.
"You do know you're not funny, right?" Chase stated, even as he did as ordered and stepped on the damn thing. He didn't watch the blur of red before the numbers appeared. He didn't want to know.
"We have a loser, ladies and gentlemen," House intoned, then he looked at Chase and waited until Chase looked back at him. "You lost half a pound. What are we going to do about it?"
Chase stepped off the scale, scowling. "You know what...I don't care what you do," he replied. "But I'm going to work." He'd almost made it to the conference room door when House's next words stopped him.
"If I put you on medical leave of absence and send you to a treatment center...then you won't have to worry about work." House spoke softly, but his words echoed loudly in the room. So loud that they made pain throb in Chase's temples.
"You wouldn't do that?" he whispered, turning back to face House. But given the look on the other man's face, Chase knew he would. If only because he could. Chase hated begging but he could feel desperation washing over him in waves. "Please don't do that," he pleaded, and he saw something flicker in House's pure blue eyes. Something he couldn't catch long enough to identify. Pity maybe? Chase hated the very thought of that.
House was quiet for so long that the air seemed to thicken, visibly, with tension. Then he was dropping down into his chair and rubbing a hand over his face before stating, "You don't seem to be leaving me any choice."
Chase took that as House telling him he had another chance. "I'll gain weight," he promised, and he meant it. Because he knew House would take great delight in sending him away. Maybe he shouldn't worry that the man could do it. Chase had lawyers at his beck and call who could probably make House fold. But Chase knew his boss, he knew that House would bulldoze over everyone and everything to do what he thought needed to be done. If he wanted Chase sent away, then he'd make it happen. Only Chase was desperate to stay. "Just give me some time," he added.
"You have one week." House made it sound like a death sentence. He pushed out of his chair then limped over to the door. "You coming? We have a case, remember? Or did you lose a half a pound of brain cells?"
"Be there in a minute," Chase replied, because he suddenly realized he was shaking and he couldn't face Cameron or Foreman like this. He had seen them through the glass and they were looking this direction.
House paused then nodded. "Don't be long," he said, before opening the door and exiting into the conference room.
Chase watched him go and the moment he was alone he sank down into a chair and fought the urge to laugh.
THE END...of part 18