SO YOU HAD A BAD DAY...part 4
Starting out his day with a headache and a wine stain on his carpet made Chase want to call in to work then crawl into bed after downing about six tylenol. But he hadn't called in once in all the time he'd worked for House and he wasn't going to start now. Not when that would just give House more fodder to taunt him with.
Grabbing the carpet stain remover from the kitchen cupboard, along with a sponge, Chase went to work on the stain. He sprayed it, went to grab some tylenol and down them with orange juice while the cleaner soaked in, then he cleaned up his small mess from the night before. By the time he returned to the stain, it looked like it was lifting. He scrubbed at it and twenty minutes later it was actually gone. Impressive stain remover. All the more so since he had ordered the stuff from an informercial a few months ago when he couldn't sleep. It contained some kind of oxidant and he supposed he'd gotten his money's worth. He also supposed it was a testiment to how tired he was that he was focused on the positive aspects of a stupid carpet cleaning product.
Putting the bottle back, he rinsed out the sponge, set it on the counter to dry then took a shower. Twenty minutes later he was dressed and checking his email. He had a few he should respond too, but he wasn't in the mood. Instead he logged off, grabbed his coat and bag and headed out.
On the way to work he stopped for coffee and a bagel. He sipped at the coffee, absorbing the caffeine rush from the double shot expresso latte, while half-heartedly nibbling at the bagel. When he got to work he dumped the half eaten bagel, but continued to relish his coffee, glad that he'd gotten the large. But for all the caffeine he was sucking into his system, he was still half dozing over a puzzle when Cameron came in.
"You look beat," she commented, as she breezed past him on her way to the counter.
"Morning to you too," Chase replied, unable to keep the grumpiness out of his voice.
Cameron stared at the empty coffee pot. "You didn't make coffee." She sounded so surprised that Chase actually chuckled.
Shifting in his chair to face her, he held up his styrofoam cup. "Already have some."
"First person in always makes the coffee," Cameron reminded him, even as she reached for a filter.
"My bad." It was the unspoken rule though. To be honest, he'd forgotten to do it. Not that he was going to admit to it. But it was a testiment to how tired he was. Which just made him feel more tired.
Tired enough that he was startled when Cameron sat down beside him. He hadn't noticed her until she was right there.
A frown on her face, Cameron studied Chase. "Are you sure you should be here? We get sick days, you know. Maybe you should use one."
"I'm fine." Standard reply for Cameron's standard, pain in the ass, curiosity.
"Okay." Surprisingly, Cameron dropped it. "So, have you thought about what movie you want to see saturday?"
Chase gave her a look that he was pretty sure conveyed how confused he was. "What movie?" He had absolutely no clue what she was talking about and it gave him a creepy, Twilight Zone, moment.
Huffing a little sigh, Cameron patiently explained it. As if he were a two year old. "This saturday is movie night, Chase. You, me and Foreman go to the movies once a month."
"Oh." Chase suddenly remembered that. He remembered too how Foreman had told him last week, while running one of their tests for a patient, that he was going to blow off movie night in the future. Chase figured he had the right idea. Cameron had only started movie night because she felt the three of them needed some bonding time outside of the hospital. He had agreed to it just to get her to shut up about it, and when the first saturday night came up he'd planned on making an excuse and not going, only he'd lost a bet to Foreman earlier in the day and the pay off was that he had to go. Foreman had gone simply for the amusement factor. That was six months ago. Movie night hadn't been a bad thing, but Chase didn't feel up to making inane conversation with Cameron tonight. Especially when he already knew it would be just the two of them.
"So...any thoughts as to what movie you want to see?" Cameron prompted. "It's your turn to pick."
Wincing, Chase turned away from her, heading over to the coffee pot. He brought his cup with him and topped it off, just for something to do. "Um...I don't think I'll be going this week," he told her, then he waited for the inevitable explosion. Cameron believed that movie night was a good thing and she wouldn't give up on it easily.
But before she could say a word, Foreman entered the room, followed closely by House.
Chase heaved a silent sigh of relief when he saw a folder in House's hand. They had a patient. His day was starting to look up. Hopefully Cameron would forget all about movie night and his life could go merrily on it's way without the extra stresses.
"Blind guy, sixty something, losing feeling in his extremities from the bottom up," House stated, tossing the file in Chase's direction.
"He's paralyzed from his upper thighs down," Chase read.
"As of this morning, he lost all feeling in his ass too," House interjected, moving over to the white board and snatching up a marker. "So...before we do all the doctory stuff, let's talk about lunch." He pinned his gaze on Chase. "You're buying, right?"
Chase resisted the urge to glare at House. To give the man the satisfaction of knowing his words pissed him off. He knew what House was doing. Flaunting his inheritance in his face. Not because he cared a whit that Chase had the money, he was doing it because he knew Chase wanted to keep it private. "How fast has the paralysis been progressing?" Chase countered having to reply to House by focusing on the case.
Which, thankfully, House accepted. Twenty minutes later they dispersed to run various tests. House sent Chase to get a history after Cameron drew blood for blood work. Foreman was heading straight out to the old man's home. With his permission, no less.
Because he wanted to give Cameron time to get the blood she needed, without running into her, Chase took a side trip to the nearest vending machines. He bought a candy bar for later, and a Mt. Dew for now. It was early for soda, but he was hoping it would give him the caffeine kick he needed.
Ten minutes later he entered Artie Mather's room. "Good morning, Mr. Mather's," he said in greeting. "I'm Dr. Chase. I need to ask a few questions." He announced himself before approaching, talking as he reached the bed so the man would know where he was without having to guess.
Sightless eyes locked in his direction. "Call me Artie," said the man. his tone pleasant and surprisingly up beat. "You're not from around these parts, are you?"
"Australia," Chase supplied, before Mather's could guess he was British.
"It's a beautiful country," Artie replied.
Chase was surprised by his comment. "So you've been there."
Artie nodded. "Years ago. How old are you, Dr. Chase?" he asked suddenly.
"Twenty-nine," Chase replied, deciding to go for the truth for once. He usually upped his age a few years, if asked.
"Last time I was in Melbourne was before you were born," Artie replied.
Chase felt a bit jolted by that tidbit, given that he was from Melbourne. But he needed to focus on the case at hand, not relieve forgotten memories. Not to mention painful ones. "How long have you been blind?" he asked. The information was in Mather's file, but Chase wanted to ask a few questions of his own to see if he'd get the same answers.
Artie sighed. "Since I was fifteen."
"Your file states that it was progressional and that you started losing vision at ten," Chase stated.
"That's right. Doctor's never did give my parents a reason for it." A shrug of slumped shoulders. "Guess it was just meant to be."
Chase made a note of that fact then asked, "Do you remember any head injuries before you started losing your sight? Maybe fell and hit your head?"
There was a moment of silence, then Artie shook his head. "Not that I recall. But you're talking over fifty years ago. I'm lucky I remember what I had for breakfast this morning." He cocked his head as if he could see Chase and was studying him. "Why all the questions about my vision? I'm here because I'm losing feeling in my body."
"I know." Chase spoke quietly. "But I've learned that something unexpected can give us a clue to help discover what's wrong."
"I see." Artie looked like he wanted to say more but he started coughing. One hand reached out towards the nightstand.
Chase realized Artie was trying to find his water cup. He guided the man's hand to it with a firm but gentle touch, rather than grab it for him.
Artie took a few sips, managed to catch his breath, then smiled at Chase. "You've worked with the blind." It was a statement, not a question.
"Sort of," Chase allowed, wondering if he wanted to share the story or not. He decided he might as well. Talking to the patients about his past gave him a type of release. He only did it when he was able to share something in common with them or when he was trying to set them at ease. He figured Artie deserved the truth. "I took a hit in the head during a football game when I was fifteen and I lost my sight for three weeks. Scared the hell out of me."
"You still remember what it was like." Again it was a statement, not a question.
Moving a bit closer to the bed, Chase rattled the bed rail just enough to let Artie know where he was before replying. "I don't think about it often," he confessed. "But when I do it seems very vivid. What I remember most was how sharp and clear and loud everything sounded."
A soft laughed filled the room and Artie looked pleased. "I swear I can hear a pin drop across the room in a bar on football monday during a game."
Chase chuckled at that, willing himself not to think about his own few days of darkness, and focused on getting the rest of the history.
He never knew he had an audience.
OoO
They all returned to the office after completing their assigned tasks. They worked over the results and symptoms and House sent them on their way again to do more tests. Chase was stunned when he checked on Artie and the paralysis was up to his waist. He put the man on oxygen since he was starting to wheeze. Whatever was causing this was moving too fast for them to even hope to catch up.
At one point Chase actually took time to fit in a bathroom break, only to find Cameron waiting for him when he stepped out. "Is it Mathers?" he asked, seeing the strange look on her face. A look he couldn't read because she was staring at him rather like he was a bug under a microscope.
"He's still getting worse," Cameron replied, but that's not why I'm here.
"You're here because you like to linger outside of men's rooms?" Chase prompted, stepping past her. He headed straight for the vending machine and bought another Mt. Dew. The candy bar from earlier was still in his pocket. He hadn't eaten anything yet today. None of them had the time to think about it.
Cameron was on his heels. "I heard what you said to Artie," she announced.
Which made Chase pause in opening the can to whirl around and stare at her. All the while trying to decipher her crytic statement. "Heard what?" And Chase heard the defensiveness in his voice. He was gearing up for some kind of attack, being prepared to strike back.
"About how you went blind for three weeks," Cameron replied.
"Oh. So?" Chase wasn't happy that she'd heard that since it wasn't meant for her ears, but he supposed it was harmless enough. So he let himself relax, opening the soda and taking a long swallow.
Cameron looked surprised by his reaction. She shrugged then said, "I'm just surprised, I guess. I didn't know that about you."
Gaping at her, Chase snorted then shook his head. "You don't know anything about me, Cameron." He might have said more but his pager went off. He pulled it out of his pocket and wasn't surprised by the message to head to Mather's room.
He didn't notice Cameron hot on his heels.
OoO
By dinner time, Artie was on a respirator.
Cameron was arguing with House that he needed to have an epiphany and have it now. Foreman was the one to tell her it was over. There was nothing more they could do.
Chase looked over at House as the man fiddled with his striped ball. Then blue eyes were gazing back and Chase saw the truth there. House couldn't win this one. Not really that much of a surprise. And not House's fault. Artie had waited too long to come in. This time they'd maybe get the answer from the autopsy. Maybe not. Sometimes you just couldn't win.
Slipping out of the office, Chase went to Artie's room. There were a couple of family members there. Artie's second wife, his son and daughter in law and a teenaged granddaughter. Chase checked the respirator, answered a few questions the wife had, then lingered in the background. He knew there wasn't much time left.
When Artie flatlined, Chase slipped into Intesivist mode but he knew he was just going through the motions. So he nodded at the nurse to disconnect the machine, then he called time of death. After a few words to the grieving family, Chase left.
He paged House to let him know what happened, then he went to the cafeteria. He felt hollow inside and figured it might help to eat something. But he only picked at the sandwich sitting in front of him. By the time House sat down across from him, Chase had a plate full of ripped bread and ham that was no longer recognizable.
"That looks disgusting," House announced.
"Want it?" Chase felt the need to snark back. He felt more comfortable doing that kind of thing when it was just him and House. When the others were around he felt too vulnerable. Like he was letting them in on something that was private. Not that there was any particular relationship between him and House, but sometimes Chase felt like their could be. He just wasn't sure if that would be a good thing or not.
House moved the plate off to the side. "You're batting zero this week," he stated. "First that kid now the blind guy."
Chase felt anger erupt abruptly and he glared at House. "Neither of those deaths were my fault!" he snapped.
"Good point." House said nothing more, just leaning back in his chair and studying Chase.
"Bugger," Chase mumbled as he scrubbed a hand over his face. He got what House was doing, clever bastard. Not that it was going to work. Chase knew it wasn't his fault that Mather's died, but that didn't make him feel any less guilty. He blamed the guilt thing on the nuns.
"So how long have you had insomnia?" House asked, neatly changing the subject, although the focus still remained on Chase.
Heaving a sigh, Chase whispered, "Don't have it."
House thumped his cane on the floor. Two loud bangs until Chase's head lifted and he was looking at him. "When was the last time you slept more than two hours a night?" he said, reprhasing.
"I'm going home." Chase wasn't about to play this game with House. He knew it would only lead to him suffering in some way. But when he reached for the plate with the intent of dumping it on the way out, fingers gripped his wrist.
"Take this." A bottle appeared on the table and Chase could guess it held the same pill as the last time. House locked eyes with him. "If you don't get more than two three hours after the weekend passes, you have an apointment for a full work up."
Chase pulled his arm free, not taking the plate or the bottle. "I'll handle it myself," he replied. Because that's what he always did.
House pushed the bottle at him. "My way or the highway, buckaroo," he countered. Then he was on his feet and limping away.
The bottle had tipped over and was rolling towards the table edge. Chase caught it before it rolled off and stuffed it in his pocket. He would take the pill and he would sleep and he would tell House what he wanted to hear so House would leave him alone. Maybe this time it would even be the truth.
Grabbing his plate, Chase dumped it in the corner bin then signed out.
But instead of going straight home he stopped at an all night mini market for gas, a six pack of beer that he knew he wouldn't drink, and a crappy pizza. Then he went home, took a shower, pretended to eat the pizza and took one sip of the beer. He didn't take the pill, but managed to fall asleep on the couch.
When he got up and went to work four hours later, the bottle with the pill was in the trash can, along with the pizza and the beer.
THE END...of part 4