REWIND...part 19

It took Chase a moment to pull himself together enough to join the others. He rather appreciated the effort Foreman and Cameron made to act like everything was normal. They stayed focused on the patient file. House had to make some comment about him finally deciding to join them, but that was what passed for normal too, so Chase could accept it.

He joined in on the differential, then headed out to his assigned task. Running and MRI with Foreman. During which his colleague made it a point to harass Chase about his lack of knowledge when it came to American sports. Something he could deal with, happily. Once the tests were done, they headed back to the conference room. Chase made a pit stop at the vending machine for a granola bar. He would gain the weight House ordered him to gain if it killed him.

House noticed him eating and arched an eyebrow, but nothing more was said.

Chase was grateful. He spent the rest of the day running tests, tossing out ideas, and eating whenever he could force something down. By the end of the day he felt over full, had a headache and wanted nothing more than to go to bed. Only to remember he'd come in with Wilson. Grabbing his messenger bag, Chase headed for his room mates office. Wilson was just closing up but he waved Chase in.

"Have a seat for a minute," he invited, waving at the chairs. "I want to talk to you."

"It can't wait?" Chase really wanted to get home.

Wilson sat down behind his desk. "It could, but I'd just as soon discuss it now."

Chase felt too tired to argue the point, so he sat down. "Okay...what?" He couldn't tell by the neutral expression on Wilson's face it if was going to be good news or bad news, so to speak.

"I got your blood work back," Wilson began. "No surprise to find that you're anemic."

"Is that it?" Chase wasn't the least bit surprised, so he made to stand up.

Wilson waved him back down. "I've talked to House and he told me about his...ultimatum...to you."

Chase grimaced, but he figured House would have told Wilson. The whole point of Wilson staying with him was to keep an eye on him and report back to House. That Wilson had kept a modicum of confidentiality between them was just Wilson's sense of fair play, nothing more. So Chase merely nodded.

"He's serious, you know." Wilson expression shifted from neutral to grim.

"I know. He'd do it just to mess with me if for no other reason," Chase replied. He realized one knee was bouncing as a sign of the agitation he was feeling, so he clamped a hand over it and hoped Wilson hadn't noticed.

Wilson got up and moved to lean against the front of his desk, directly in front of Chase. "He'd do that," he allowed. "But if you can't change the pattern of your behavior, Chase...it would be in your best interests to get treatment."

Chase was out of his chair and glaring at Wilson. "Easy for you to say, isn't it? Do they have a treatment center for chronic cheating?" The moment the words were out of his mouth he wished he could take them back. "Sorry...I'm sorry." He meant it.

"I wish they did," Wilson countered, a look of discomfort on his face. "I can't help what I do...but at the same time it doesn't affect my health, Chase. What you're doing does."

"I know you and House think I'm sick or something...but I'm not!" Chase was getting so damn tired of repeating himself about this. Maybe he'd make a video recording of it and send them both a copy.

Wilson sighed, one hand scrubbing over his face. He looked worn out and older than his years in this moment. "You do realize that nothing will change until you accept the truth. Which means you won't start getting better until then. Which means..."

Chase cut him off. "You think I'll end up in treatment by this time next week." It actually hurt to say that. To know that Wilson believed it. Which was stupid. Chase didn't give a damn what the man thought about him. He didn't care what anyone thought. Although a tiny voice in his head was screaming LIAR at him for that one. Chase tried to tune it out.

"I think you're drowning and you don't know which way is up at the moment, and you're too damn stubborn to accept a helping hand so someone can pull you out," Wilson replied.

"How profound!" Chase snapped back.

Wilson shrugged. "The truth is the truth no matter what words I use. You need help."

Chase locked eyes with him, daring him to say more. When there was nothing but a painful moment of silence that dragged on, he said, "I'd like to go home now."

"Sounds like a plan," Wilson allowed. He gestured for Chase to precede him, then they stepped out of the office and headed for the elevators.

The drive home was made in resolute silence. Once inside the house, Chase headed for the kitchen. He knew he needed to eat if he was going to beat House at his own game. He wasn't in the mood for anything elaborate, but when he opened the fridge, he found a macaroni and cheese casserole that Maggie had made for them. Pulling it out, Chase headed for the microwave.

Wilson came in and sat down at the table, watching him.

"Maggie makes the best macaroni and cheese," Chase said, simply because the tension in the air was getting to him.

"I'll bet." Wilson grabbed a napkin and began shredding it.

Chase grabbed plates and silverware and put them on the table. Then he grabbed glasses and a can of soda for Wilson and milk for himself. He poured himself a glass then put the milk back, then he grabbed a loaf of fresh Italian bread and the butter. It would be a few minutes before the macaroni and cheese was ready. He might as well start stuffing the calories in.

Wilson accepted some bread and they ate in a more companionable silence, with Chase eventually prompting a work related discussion on House's latest case. Then dinner was ready and they ate, chatted about the weather and sports, then Chase conceded defeat. He hadn't even eaten half of what was on his plate, but if he ate just one more bite he was going to throw up.

"I'll clear the table when I'm done," Wilson offered.

"Thanks." Chase stood up and brought his plate to the sink. "Um...I might need something to help me sleep tonight," he blurted out. He hadn't wanted to ask, but until he could get to the drug store tomorrow and stock up on some pills, he had no choice but to ask. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep otherwise.

Wilson looked surprised, but nodded. "Are you going up to bed now?"

Chase shook his head. "I'm going to shower first."

"Okay...I'll bring something in about twenty minutes." He watched Chase a moment, then went back to eating.

"Thanks." That was all Chase said before leaving the room.

Twenty minutes later he was showered and ready for bed and Wilson appeared on cue with a syringe. Which Chase hadn't been expecting. "What are you giving me?" he asked, even as he held out his arm. He felt tired into his soul and he wanted a chance to sleep without dreaming. He just wasn't sure his idea of help was the same as Wilson's.

Wilson gestured for him to get under the covers. "It's going to work pretty fast," he stated.

"What are you giving me?" Chase asked again, since Wilson didn't answer the first time.

"Does it matter?" Wilson waited for Chase to get settled then he swabbed his upper arm with an alcohol pad before injecting him. He swabbed the spot again then said, "I want you to understand that the only reason I'm doing this tonight is because I know you're exhausted, and I'm hoping that a good night's sleep will help you to deal with everything better. You've got an uphill battle ahead of you, Chase."

He knew that better than anyone, but he was determined to win for once. Not that he was going to debate the matter with Wilson, even if he could. Whatever it was the Oncologist had given him, it did work fast. Chase felt a warmth seeping through his veins and a pleasant drowsiness washed over him. "Thanks," he whispered, even as he closed his eyes.

Wilson patted his shoulder then he moved to the door, turning off the lights as he went.

OoO

Chase slept without dreaming until dawn. Then flashes of images and memories scrawled through his mind. He remembered the first time his mother had ever hit him. He was 8 and had accidentally knocked over her glass of what he'd thought was orange juice. What else would she be drinking at breakfast time? A few years later he had learned the truth. She liked vodka in the morning and gin for the rest of the day.

There were a few good memories. She had come to his first football match, to cheer him on. But he'd asked her not to come after that because she wasn't in control of herself and he was afraid she would embarrass them both. Something she seemed to understand to the point where she was happy to let him make excuses for why she couldn't attend various functions and why after his 8th year, she never showed up for teacher's conferences and chatted by phone with them instead.

But, ultimately, the bad moments outweighed the good and jolted Chase to consciousness. When he glanced at his watch he was relieved to see he had slept over eight hours, and he knew he wouldn't be able to fall back to sleep, even though it was early. He was half tempted to go for a run, but he didn't want to sabotage himself. So he settled for a long shower which helped to wash away his lethargy. Then he headed down stairs, he was surprised to see that Wilson was already up and making breakfast.

"You're up early," Chase commented, as he went to the fridge for some orange juice. Only it made him remember the dream so he settled for a glass of milk instead.

"Couldn't sleep," Wilson replied, and he was backed up by the dark circles under his eyes.

Chase was surprised by the confession. "Anything wrong?"

Wilson turned from the stove where he was making scrambled eggs. "Nothing specific, just have a bad night now and then."

"Yeah...I can relate." It wasn't something Chase would have normally said to anyone, but he felt comfortable enough with Wilson at this point. Not exactly by choice, of course, but it was a moot point to quibble over now.

"How did you sleep?" Wilson countered, as he carried a plate of eggs over to the table. Almost like he had known Chase was up and ready to eat.

That was a thought Chase didn't want to focus on. He sat down and accepted the platter, filling his plate half full. There was toast already on the table and he took one slice and buttered it before replying. "I slept well. Whatever you gave me did the trick."

Wilson was watching him intently. Apparently he approved of what he saw because he nodded then sat down to fill his own plate. "I'm glad. Not that one night of good sleep is going to be a cure all, Chase," he reminded him.

"Yeah...I know. Doctor here." Chase felt a bit petulant, but tried to keep his attitude out of his tone of voice. He was tired of everyone seeming to forget that he was a doctor and he was old enough to take care of himself. Hell, he'd been doing so for most of his life.

"Doctor's should never try to diagnose themselves," Wilson shot back. "We have a tendency to be in denial when it comes to ourselves."

Chase decided this conversation had gone on far enough. "I'm going to drive myself in today," he stated, before digging into his eggs. He had eaten a few bites already and was feeling full, so he knew he'd have to just stuff some more in before conceding defeat.

Wilson arched an eyebrow at him but nodded. "That's fine," he allowed, now devoting attention to his own plate.

They continued with breakfast in silence. Chase managed to finish half his serving and he noticed Wilson watching him as he dumped the rest.

"Small meals several times a day would probably work best," Wilson offered.

"You're probably right." Chase figured there was no harm in being agreeable, besides which Wilson was right. He set his plate in the sink along with his half finished milk then said, "I'm going to brush my teeth then head out. I think I'd like to go for a bit of a drive before heading in to work. Clear my head."

Not lifting his eyes from his plate, Wilson nodded. "Sounds like a plan. I'll talk to you later then."

Chase didn't respond to that, he simply slipped out of the kitchen and up to his room. He brushed his teeth, avoiding his reflection in the mirror, then grabbed his jacket and headed out. The first thing he did was head for a twenty-four hour drugstore. He picked up two boxes of sleeping pills and tucked them in his blazer pockets. Then he did go for a bit of a drive before stopping at a donut shop for coffee and a bagel. He was still the first one to show up and managed to eat a bit of his bagel by the time Foreman arrived.

"How's it going?" Foreman asked, as he shrugged out of his suit jacket then headed straight for the coffee maker.

"Fine," Chase replied, hoping that would be the end of the conversation and they could pleasantly ignore each other until Cameron and House showed up.

But Foreman took his mug to the table and sat down across from Chase. "Can I ask you a question?" he blurted out.

Chase had been attempting a crossword puzzle, but he set it aside and locked eyes with Foreman. Whatever this was going to be, he wanted to get it over with quickly. "Sure. Ask away." Didn't mean he was going to answer it.

"Why are you trying to kill yourself, man?" Foreman asked, and with a sharpness edged with anger. Like he was mad at Chase for something imagined.

"What the hell kind of question is that?" Chase shot back, feeling his defenses rising in a reflex action.

Foreman didn't back down. "It's an honest question," he replied. "You don't want to see it, but what you're doing is killing yourself slowly. And I just don't get it. You're young and bright and rich. You've got a future ahead of you as a doctor. And when you're not skin and bones you've got the kind of looks that have women lining up to go out with you. You've got everything a man could want. So what the hell is wrong with you? Start living already!"

Chase stared at Foreman in disbelief. The speech he'd just delivered was crap and he told him so. "You're full of shit, Foreman. I'm not trying to kill myself...I'm just going through an adjustment period. If that's a problem for you...too bad. What I do and how I handle my life doesn't concern you...nor does it affect you in any way, shape or form." Anger roiled through Chase and he got up and started pacing, feeling so jittery inside that he felt like he might jump out of his skin.

"You're right," Foreman said, after a moment of electric silence. "What you do doesn't affect me in that it doesn't change what happens to me and my life. But that doesn't mean I'm comfortable sitting back and watching you disintegrate before my eyes."

"Then don't watch!" Chase snapped back, and he felt nausea coiling in his belly. He had to swallow hard against the bile that was rising in his throat. He was just about to leave the room when House appeared, his blue eyes intently focused on Chase.

Limping over to the table, House queried, "Did I come at a bad time?"

Foreman glanced at his watch, smoothing out his expression as he did so. Nothing showed but wry amusement. "You feeling okay? You're early."

"Just trying to mess with you," House shot back, his gaze never wavering from Chase's face.

"Seen Cameron?" Chase asked, wanting to distract House's attention off of him. Yet at the same time he was rather glad House had appeared. It jerked him out of his anger and because of that his stomach was settling.

House nodded. "She had to make a pit stop in the ladies room. Heads up...I think it's that time of the month so expect extreme bitchiness."

Foreman rolled his eyes. "Do we have a case?"

"We do." House threw a file on the table.

Chase grabbed it first and felt relief wash over him. Now he had something to focus on.

He made it through the rest of the day, managing to stuff himself full of calories and keep it all down. Not that it was easy. He avoided Foreman as much as possible and followed this same pattern for the next two days. But he met his downfall at night. Even though he'd bought sleeping pills, he was trying not to use them. The only problem being he felt so jittery and anxious that it made him feel ill. To the point where tonight he ended up puking dinner into the toilet.

A long, hot, shower didn't help. Wilson had gotten called back to the hospital to deal with a patient, so Chase did the only thing he felt he could do. He went for a run. Three miles. Not too long but long enough to help him relax. Another hot shower and he figured he was good to go for sleeping. Only he ended up staring at the tv for two hours before giving in.

He would take just one pill.

Only they weren't in the bathroom drawer. Nor were they in his bedstand. Not in any dresser either, although he hadn't figured they would be since he knew he'd put them in the bathroom drawer. The only thing Chase could figure was that Wilson had taken them. "Sonofabitch!" he cursed, even as he marched down the hall and into Wilson's room. His room really, which was how Chase justified what he was doing. But a search of the bathroom turned up nothing.

He was reluctant to go through the dressers, even though they were his. But it felt like an invasion of privacy to ruffle through Wilson's things. Yet Chase found himself doing just that. He tried to be careful though, putting everything back exactly as he found it. He had reached the last drawer when he sensed a presence. Whirling around he was horrified to see Wilson lounging in the doorway.

"I flushed them down the toilet," Wilson said quietly.

"You had no right!" Chase hissed, and his anger made him willing to get in Wilson's face.

Wilson merely shrugged at him. "I'm trying to help you."

Chase didn't believe him, nor did he have enough patience to reply. Instead he pushed past Wilson and stalked down the hallway, back to his room. Once there he grabbed jeans and a pullover and got dressed.

"Where are you going?" Wilson asked, this time hovering in Chase's doorway.

"Out!" Chase barked, snatching his keys off the dresser and grabbing his leather jacket.

Wilson blocked his way. "Out where? It's late."

Chase felt like laughing and slugging Wilson at the same time. He settled for cold anger. "This is my house," he drawled. "And I'm an adult. Which means I don't have a curfew and you can't ground me. So get the hell out of my way." He was almost surprised when Wilson actually stepped back. Chase slid past him and hit the stairs running.

A thirty minute drive later he reached a bar called O'Shea's. He went inside before he could talk himself out of it and ordered a whiskey. He rather hated whiskey, so it was a safe choice. He wasn't really here to drink, he just wanted to be some place where no one knew him or would judge him. He wanted to disappear in a crowd of strangers.

It worked for about fifteen minutes, then a pretty brunette sat down beside him and introduced herself. Her name was Maria, she was thirty-two, single and an accountant.

Chase made his own introductions and offered to buy her a drink. She was pretty and smart and charming. She flirted with him and when she invited him back to her place, he went. When she asked him to stay the night, he stayed. To his surprise he slept without dreaming, but woke up with a jolt at five am. Sliding out of bed he used the bathroom then got dressed. She had paper on the nightstand and he left her a note. He felt a bit guilty leaving without saying goodbye, but he didn't want to face her because he didn't know what her expectations were. She'd given him her card with her number, but she didn't have his. It was better that way, but it didn't make him feel less guilty.

Once in his car he turned his cell back on. Not surprisingly there were three missed calls. All from Wilson. Chase sighed and headed for home. He was relieved that Wilson wasn't up to greet him at the door. He was able to go for a run, shower, and have breakfast made before Wilson put in an appearance. Chase waited for the barrage of questions to begin. To his surprise Wilson only had one question as he grabbed a glass of juice.

"Did you have a good night?"

"Yes." Chase filled his plate with two of the pancakes he'd made then held the platter out to Wilson.

Wilson gave a tired smile as he accepted it. "That's good. Was she pretty?"

Chase felt a flare of irritation. "Does it matter? Is anything I do even remotely your business?"

"Guess not," Wilson said quietly, his attention focused on his plate. "Pass the syrup?"

Grabbing the bottle, Chase held it over then he tried to apply himself to his own food. He managed to choke down one pancake before giving up. Rising from the table he dumped the rest, put the plate in the sink then headed for the door. As he passed by Wilson he mumbled, "See you at work."

After brushing his teeth and glaring at his reflection in the mirror, Chase grabbed his keys and was out the door. But he knew today was going to be a bad day. He was too fucked up for it to be anything but.

OoO

"So how did he do at the weigh in?" Wilson asked.

House finished chewing his bite of Rueben and swallowed before replying. "Failed spectacularly. Guess I should look into those treatment centers."

Wilson sighed. "You need to give Chase a break. He's trying. Give him credit for that."

"Trying isn't good enough," House shot back. He grabbed the bottle of soda that was on Wilson's desk and took a long swig. Setting it back down he added, "And he's run out of time."

"By who's time table? Yours?" Wilson felt a stirring of anger. "This isn't about you, House. Chase's needs come first."

House looked amused. "Since when did you become his champion?"

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Wilson abandoned his own lunch. "I have no clue," he drawled. "But I do know that if you push Chase too hard right now...he will break."

"I know." House said it quietly, almost reverently.

"Isn't he enough of a puzzle for you to try saving him?" Wilson queried. And he was truly curious to know the answer.

House wasn't playing the game though. "The thing is, he has to want me to save him. He's not at that point yet."

Wilson could see the logic in that, even though he didn't agree with it. "But what if he breaks before he gets to that point?"

"Then it'll suck to be him," House replied, then he grabbed the remote and turned on the tiny black and white TV he'd conned Wilson into buying a few months back. "Shhh," House hissed, before Wilson could say a word in protest. "Something bad is going to happen to pretty much everyone on General Hospital today. Can't miss viewing."

"The show is stupid," Wilson scoffed, even as he turned his chair to get a better view of the tv screen.

House smirked. "Life is stupid." Leaning in to Wilson he announced grandly, "Welcome to my world."

THE END...of part 19