"Everything was normal?" House was not in the mood to hear such information. Inability to speak is usually a neurological slam dunk.
"We should be relieved." Cameron replied. "So far all tests seem to indicate that he hasn't suffered any brain damage."
"He's not talking or willing to communicate to us. How does that not indicate brain damage?"
Foreman jumped in knowing that House wasn't thinking objectively. "Come on House. You know that 40 present to neurologists with a variety of symptoms for which there is no current organic or psychological explanation despite extensive investigation. We have yet to pursue psychological factors. What happened was pretty traumatic."
"I'm not ready to consider the psychological ramifications. Usual reactions to traumatic stress like this are delayed by months."
"Maybe a usual reaction doesn't fit because you are avoiding the possibility that he wasn't fine when this happened. The shooting would be a perfect event to push someone over and already teetering edge."
"I'm sorry, I thought your specialty was neurology, not psychology. I need a neurological answer. Go find it. I need other ideas."
"We are likely dealing with something very vague here like Conversion Disorder. Since he is still too weak to go through the battery of motor and sensory function tests to support that diagnosis, we don't have much to go on. We might need to wait until other symptoms present themselves, or maybe he will start speaking on his own."
House was rather livid at Foreman for suggesting such a thing. "Conversion Disorder nice umbrella diagnosis invented by lazy doctors who don't want to admit they have no freaking idea what is wrong. Do I look like the type that opens an umbrella when it starts to rain?"
Foreman gave him a jagged stare. House continued. "Besides, that disorder usually affects women by 6:1. I also think he was shot, not sexually abused. He doesn't fit the typical profile."
"Another typical profile includes symptoms like aphonia due to the patient trying to avoid emotional difficulty. You don't like this because it is too easy and you might actually have to admit that someone on your team isn't dealing with a traumatic situation properly." Foreman shot back.
"So what do we do to treat it?" Cameron had to agree with Foreman on this one.
"First, we need to confirm the diagnosis. In order to do that, we have to prove that his inability to speak is not under voluntary control." Foreman was glad to see somebody was on board.
"How do you prove that?" Cameron asked.
Foreman looked at her and shrugged. "I don't know."
House still wasn't buying it. "Conversion disorder is the new touchy-feely term for hysteria. Hysteria is a catch-all that has been around since the dark ages. Hysterical Mutism. No one uses that diagnosis anymore. Considering it as a diagnosis is pure quackery because it doesn't identify the medical cause."
"Fine, shouldn't you at least order a psych consult then?" Cameron argued. "That way you can be proved right if it isn't psychological."
"He's damaged enough. I don't need some mind bender to make things worse if I don't have to."
"Fine, how about I run more painful and useless tests just to stroke your ego. Chase will understand. He's had to do it enough for our patients before." Foreman left the room fuming.
Cameron was livid as well. "While you and Foreman try to hunt down some mysterious undetectable physical ailment even though the answer is right in front of our faces, I'm going to work on actually trying to get through to him. There are other ways to communicating other than words. Maybe he can tell us what is really wrong."
Cameron stormed out cursing at House under her breath. As she angrily stomped down the hall, she came up with an idea that might help Chase along. She headed straight for the hospital entrance and to her car. Next stop, Chase's apartment.
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"Good morning Dr. Chase." Cuddy entered the room with a cheerful smile. Cameron updated her on all the recent developments, so she knew to tread delicately.
Chase looked at her with exuded calm, indicating that he was not bothered by her presence. He wondered why she was coming to see him though. It was likely due to the fact he was gravely wounded in her hospital.
"How are you feeling?" Cuddy predictably got no response, just an unchanged stare.
"I was told you were having trouble speaking. That's okay, you don't need to answer me. I came for two reasons. The first is to see how you are doing. You look way better now than you did a few days ago. I heard you will likely be moved out of the ICU this afternoon. We got a nice private room ready for you upstairs. "
Chase still didn't change expression as she talked to him. He knew she was trying to be nice, but he still wondered where this was going.
"Anyway, I said there were two reasons. The police really want to speak with you. I keep fighting them off and telling them you are not well enough yet. I will fight them off as long as you need me to. You tell me when you are ready."
Chase wasn't sure what in the world he could tell the police, even if he could talk. He remembered a couple fighting, but he tuned it out just like he did with his parent's fights. He was just trying to finish his notes and go home. He only recalls a scream and everything suddenly going dark.
"Anyway, they should have all they need from Dr. Cameron. She was able to give them a very detailed statement. She even provided them a great description of the shooter. The police think they are really close to catching her and her husband."
Chase's expression suddenly changed to a look of slight distress. He fixed his worried eyes on Cuddy, trying to show he understood but at the same time had concern that Cameron was involved too. It never occurred to him before now, even though he didn't know why it wasn't obvious.
"I'm sorry to worry you. I just thought you should know that everything is under control. Get some rest. It will all be okay."
Chase was getting tired of being told everything will be okay. He was not okay, and now he wondered how many others were not okay either. He was also frustrated because he had no way of finding out.
These thoughts raced through his mind as he tried to fight sleep. He was afraid to sleep, because he didn't know for sure if he would wake up here next. Eventually though his body got too tired to fight it and he drifted off.
--------------
"Chase?" His eyes carefully opened, distantly hearing the voice that was waking him from his rest. He saw Cameron's smiling face, obviously trying to keep a cheerful disposition for his sake. He didn't mind. She was often not nice to him, so this was a good change of pace.
"I hope you don't mind, but I went to your apartment and brought back some personal items." She held up a bag, hoping that Chase would take it from her. Instead, he continued his now familiar stare and did nothing.
"I wasn't sure what you liked, so I just took some guesses based on what was lying around. If something is not there that you want, let me know and I'll get it for you." Cameron placed the bag on the tray table next to his bed. "I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you. I can come back later."
It was hard to know what Chase was saying just by trying to read his eyes and facial expressions, but Cameron got every impression that he wanted her to stay. She sat down next to him and he showed no objection.
Cameron got very serious as she knew it was time to have this talk. "I was going to do this eventually, but I feel compelled to share all this with you now. Since more people are visiting now, I don't want you to be shocked or hear the wrong thing about the shooting. I know House told you an overview of what happened, but I want to fill in the details if that is okay."
She stopped to look for signs of panic or distress, but instead Chase looked at her intently listening and ready for her to go on.
"Okay, I'll go on. I'm not sure if you remember, but you and I were in the clinic when a woman came in and pulled out a gun aiming for her husband. She was drunk and fired wildly. You and I both took cover on the ground, at least I thought you did at the time. It was over rather quickly and no one else was hurt…"
Cameron paused to take a few deep breaths. She was getting upset given that the memories were still too fresh, but she had to go on for Chase's sake.
"I rolled you over and there was no pulse..."
He listened to her give every painful detail. Cameron was always so thorough, but he also understood how hard it was to talk about it. It was hard for him to hear it.
"...House cut into your chest and I had my hand in there squeezing your heart until we got to the OR."
She felt his hand grab hers. Chase was now sending a message with his eyes of deep sympathy. She couldn't avoid her emotions and let a tear slip down her cheek. They understood each other's pain. Chase's gesture of support surprised her, but also gave her the strength to go on.
"You were in surgery for almost 23 hours. We almost lost you a few times..."
He wanted to tell her how he was lost too. How he was drifting from place to place in complete pain, waiting anxiously for the end to come. He knew she would never understand that though.
"…We really didn't know you were going to make it until two days ago. You have to understand why we are on pins and needles with you right now. I really want you to know that what happened was every bit as terrifying and real for me as it was for you. Maybe more so because I watched you die."
Cameron broke into a few more tears. His glare grew more compassionate and he grabbed her hand harder. He wanted to thank her for telling him the truth and show her appreciation for all she had done for him. He tried putting that all in one glance, but he knew the message was lost in translation. His look changed to one of deep frustration.
Cameron could tell he was struggling based on the tortured eyes that she fixed upon. "You really can't talk even if you wanted to, can you?"
He continued to stare in frustration, thus indicating that he couldn't.
"Foreman brought up the possibility of Conversion Disorder. Do you think he might be right?"
Chase thought about it for a few seconds then took his eyes off hers and looked down. He wasn't convinced this was all still real, let alone what it was he might have.
"It's okay. You know as a team, especially House, that we don't give up. We will find a way to treat this. You look really tired. I'll check back later. You should be settled in your own room by then."
Chase threw her one last look of deep concern before letting go of her hand. "I'm fine. You shouldn't worry," she assured him. He let go once he believed her.
Cameron stood outside at the nurse's station, watching from afar. She wasn't certain how well he took all that information. He sat and pondered solemnly for a few minutes, then reached over and pulled the bag of personal items over to his lap. He fished through the contents and grabbed only one item before putting the bag back on the table. Cameron brought his chosen item as an afterthought after seeing it lying on the table on the way out. She wasn't sure if it was a good idea, but now she was glad she brought it.
She wore a sad smile as she watched him absorbed in every word that he read from his bible.
----------------
He had that cold feeling again. He walked through the dark empty hallways of the hospital, eerily feeling all the evil was surrounding him. Each slow step caused more and more terror inside. He was afraid to move on, but he had to.
My God, My God, Why hast thou forsaken me? He couldn't help but think of the cries of Jesus as he was separated from the Lord. He found himself wandering into diagnostics and was consumed by all the emptiness around him. He noticed the empty white board then turned away to scan the room for any signs of familiarity. He found none. His eyes came back to the white board to see a new scribble. The word was fear.
He quickly left the room very frightened by the message. He began to roam the halls aimlessly, his mind fading when it came to all the memories of recent times. None of it was real.
Chase felt a huge spike of angst. He looked around to find he was in the clinic lobby. He stood at the spot where it all happened and noticed his chest was all healed. He tried to remember what it was that was significant about this place.
From the distance came a click. He turned to look at a woman with black and grey disheveled hair and rumpled clothes pointing a gun at him. He became besieged with fear. "No please," he begged, but his pleas were to no avail as she fired.
He quickly fell to the ground, but this time there was no pain and no fade to black. He quickly sat up, looked at his chest and saw he was unharmed. His flash of amazement though turned to horror as he saw the body next to him. He slowly turned the body over and gasped to see a dead Cameron shot straight through the heart.
Chase shot up in bed in his private room, breathing heavily and heart racing as one of the monitors started to beep wildly. He felt a huge stab of pain from the sudden movement and laid back down clutching his chest in agony.
The night nurse rushed in to help him. She saw him holding his chest in pain, panicked, breathing heavily and sweating profusely. She frantically paged the doctor on call. The doctor arrived and for several minutes they worked on him until he calmed down. "He must have had a nightmare," the doctor said.
Eventually, all signs went back to normal. Once he was stable, the nurse helped him get settled. "You desperately need some rest. I'll check on you later."
Chase sat in the bed, beside himself in shock. What he just experienced wasn't real; it was a dream. If that was a dream, then where he was now was probably real. He was alive. How? Why did God spare him? It all didn't make sense.
There was only one way to prove it. He turned off the monitors, ripped off the wires, and unhooked the IV. He carefully got up and tried walking. He was very wobbly, but found if he hanged onto a wall he would be able to move. He opened the door, looked both ways, and noticed no one around. He headed out.