Chapter Seven
The insistent knock at the door startled Chloe. Who the hell… She looked through the peephole and wasn't sure if she was upset or relieved.
Breezing past her, House shuffled through the door handing Chloe a pizza and keeping the six pack to himself. "Sure, Gregory, come on in, delighted to have you, please, make yourself comfortable," muttered Chloe, not really sure why she bothered saying anything at all.
"Okay, Corporal, that was a cute demonstration this morning, but what, exactly, did you accomplish?" He had plopped down on her sofa, propped his feet up on the coffee table and popped open a beer taking a quaff.
"I saved the world for another day and made myself feel incredibly important in the process. Mind if I change clothes before this interrogation goes any further?" She didn't wait for an answer.
House could hear the shower spray and just couldn't help himself. Wandering into the bathroom, he was greeted by a sopping wet washcloth to the face. "Out, damned spot!" Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. He went back to the sofa.
Chloe at least felt human again as she returned to the living room. She had pulled on her favorite red stretch pants and an overly large Hard Rock Cafe tee shirt.
"You know, those pink fuzzy bunny slippers are incredibly sexy, Clutter." Ignoring House, she sat down beside him and helped herself to the pizza, picking off the Italian sausage.
"Are you here to feed me or just needle me into some random act of violence against your person?"
"Actually, that's precisely why I'm here." Smiling broadly, deflecting her question. She simply waited. Sighing, House looked over at her, "You took an incredible risk for someone you don't know, I want to know why."
Chloe took a big bite of pizza and a drink of the Foster's. She drew out the suspense, knowing it drives him crazy. "Flip on the stereo, will you?" Was all she said.
"Don't you have anything good in here?" He had risen and was looking over her CD collection, whining. "Sorry, my Thelonious Monk is at the cleaners." He threw her a wicked look, choosing the Amy Winehouse.
"Haven't you ever done anything, anything at all for someone else, with no concern for your own interests?" She knew the answer, but asked anyway.
"No one does anything without a glance at their own self interest, haven't I taught you anything?"
She looked at the ceiling, "Other than how to annoy people in the most effective manner, no, I'm afraid not, Gregory."
She was still gazing at the ceiling. House leaned over towards her. "You're getting ready to do something else insanely altruistic, aren't you?"
She whispered, "I may not have a choice."
"Talk to me, Chloe." He actually sounded uneasy. Slowly munching on her pizza, she considered. "Jason Adler is what is known as a user, a true sadist. He doesn't care about the person he's with, just what he can get out of them. Only the truly out-there masochistic subs go anywhere near him. So he goes for the young ones, those who don't speak English well or are new to the States. Uses them and throws them away, permanently damaged. He's the worst kind of Dom. The community won't even recognize him and won't let him anywhere near them. In short, the man is a bully. And as we know, all bullies are cowards. Every last one of them."
"I'm gonna go out on a limb here and assume you're talking about S&M? And if so, how do you know so much about it? More importantly, why is this the first I'm hearing of it?" He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"It's not funny, Gregory. People get hurt at the hands of the inexperienced or the incompetent, happens all the time in medicine, you know."
"But you're experienced and competent?"
"I'm not going to bore you with the details, Gregory."
"For God's sake, bore me!"
"Suffice it to say I had a good teacher. The best. And now he's dead. Jason Adler killed him."
"Why?"
"Because he wanted me and Larry wouldn't give me up. Luckily, Larry was as well-connected as Jason. I was protected."
"When did all this happen?"
"A long time ago, Gregory, a lifetime ago." Chloe stared up at the ceiling, a single tear trickling down her cheek. "Now I have to do whatever I can to rescue that girl and get the crosshairs moved away from Robert. I just have to figure out how to do it safely."
Chapter Eight
"Sometimes I just don't understand you," Cameron was a bit distraught, "how could you get into that kind of nonsense? It's so dangerous!"
"It was a long time ago Allie. We took all the precautions. She'd been in it for awhile and basically just walked me through what she wanted. We broke up because I didn't want to take it any further." Chase didn't like having to justify himself, "I'm not a pervert, you know."
"Burning someone doesn't qualify as a perversion? What did you get out of the deal?" She wasn't going to let this go.
"Great follow up sex, that's what I got out of it. It's all about the sex, Allie. Well, until you dig deeper and get into the vulnerability bit. Then it becomes metaphysical. But, the sex is still great. The inhibitions just disappear for both partners. Your mind and your heart open up in an amazing way." Chase took a bite of his spinach/cheese cannoli.
They were in their favorite Italian restaurant, Il Trovator, tucked into a little booth toward the back of the place. The ambience there was cozy and comforting. Red and white checkered tablecloths, candles in old wine jugs and Italian love songs playing softly in the background.
"OK, explain S&M to me." She was truly curious and a little put off by the whole thing.
Chase sighed, "First off, it's not just about S&M. There are layers, which is why we called it BDSM. BD for bondage/discipline, getting tied up and spanked for example, but that's only one example. DS for dominance/submission. That's where you get into the whole metaphysical thing. The submissive or bottom gives over their power to the dominant, allowing the dom to control all or a part of their life, either on a daily basis or only for the length of the scene they were acting out. The SM is usually not pronounced unless the pair or group wish it to be. There are so many variations, it's hard to put a single definition on it. For example, some high powered business people are into being submissives because it frees them from the decision-making they have to do on a daily basis. They give up their control for awhile. It helps them handle their stress levels."
"Wait, they want to be hurt or humiliated?" Cameron was skeptical.
"I know you've heard this before, but in most cases it's not about the pain. It's about trust and openness. If you can trust someone that deeply, it frees you somehow," He'd suddenly had a thought, "and, knowing that someone trusts you that completely can be mind-blowing in itself. You know, it's not too different from what we do every day. We inflict pain daily to diagnosis, treat and hopefully cure people. They trust us with their lives. That's humbling and you know it." He watched for her reaction.
"Well, I suppose," she drew out the last word, still a little confused. "Is this something you want to do with me?"
"Not unless you want me to. I have no intention of having you do something you don't feel comfortable doing." He sipped his red wine. "Allie, you need to eat something, your food's getting cold."
"But…" Cameron began.
"Can we just not talk about this anymore? You're upsetting yourself." Chase was really tired of the cross examination. They finished their meal and left the restaurant, deciding on a walk in the park before it got too dark.
Cameron was silent and Chase knew what she was thinking, knew she wouldn't let it go on her own. He gave up. "What is it you want to ask me, Allie?"
"What does all this have to do with you and this Chloe person? Where did you meet her? Were you involved with her, too?" She was finding all this hard to understand and was a bit jealous, no, not jealous, curious. Perhaps a little afraid.
Chase guided her to a nearby bench and they sat, watching the birds flit in and out of the branches of trees, the kids playing Frisbee catch with their dogs. "It's called 'playing', just so you know and no, I never played with Chloe. By the time I was introduced to all this, she was no longer active in the scene. Her Dom had died, she had chosen not to take another. She was asked to take the role of 'watcher', something like a spotter for a gym. She made sure the rules were followed, nothing was recorded, either video or audio, handled the clean up, that kind of thing. She also made sure the Doms didn't skimp on their sub's aftercare. She's big on that. In her cell, she's well-respected and admired."
"Aftercare?" Cameron asked.
"Think of aftercare as the cuddling after sex part of the 'play'. It's critically important to maintaining the trust of the sub. The Dom or Domme, in the case of a dominatrix, is responsible for bringing the sub back down, as it were, to reality, care for his or her wounds, if any, and generally reinforcing the idea that the sub is truly cared for, if not loved. Very often 'play' involves people who are not committed to each other in any other way except during 'scenes' or role-playing scenarios." Chase put his arm around Cameron in a protective-like gesture. "I met people who'd been together in the scene for years, yet outside of the community had no contact whatsoever. They kept coming back to the same person year after year for whatever emotional release they required. You can't be very judgmental of these people, Allie. There's an incredible amount of psychology involved, at the PhD level. These people know what they're doing and know what they want. That's why it's so scary when someone in the scene misuses his or her power."
"What role did you play in all this 'scene'?"
"I was what is called a switch. Dominant when she wanted it, submissive when she needed that. I got to see both sides. It was interesting to say the least." He chuckled, "I guess that's why I've been able to put up with House all these years." She looked at him, dumbfounded.
"Let me take you home, you look a little overwhelmed." They rose from the bench and started back to his car. She had a lot to think about and he'd decided it might be better to let her think alone.
Chapter Nine
Monday morning, the Diagnostics Department was in full battle mode. A fifty-five year old male patient had been seen in the ER, run through a gamut of tests and found to be a mystery. He had been admitted late Sunday night.
"55 year old male, only symptom: slurred speech. Differential diagnosis, people!" The game was on.
House quickly scribbled the ideas being thrown out by his team:
CVA
Cranial nerve dysfunction
Parkinson's
Paralysis of the soft palate
Infection
Demyelination
"What tests have been done so far?" Foreman queried.
"CT of the head is negative for clots or bleeds, though bleeds don't always show up on the CT," Cameron was reading the test results.
"CBC negative for anemia and infection. Electrolytes are normal, too," offered Chase.
"According to the ER physician, there's no weakness, headache, visual problems or ataxia," Foreman had a puzzled look on his face. "We're going to need more in-depth studies."
"Okay, Foreman, get an MRI of the head and neck and do an LP. Chase, set up a speech therapy evaluation to check for physical abnormalities and repeat the physical examination. Cameron, get a detailed medical history, see if there's anyone else in the family with speech or other neurological problems."
House watched as his team leave on their various errands. He wandered over to Wilson's office for a confab. Wilson was busy with a patient, so House had to find another outlet for his energy. He knew Chloe wasn't working today, so he couldn't annoy her. Who did that leave?
"House, get out of my office." Cuddy didn't even look up from her desk.
"But, mom, you haven't even heard what I have to say!" House whined, trying to look pathetic.
"I don't care what you have to say, go say it to someone else. Oh, I have an idea, since you're down here, why don't you do a couple of clinic hours? There, problem solved. Get out of my office." Her pen never stopped moving across the paperwork she was battling with.
"What do you know about the S&M scene here in Princeton?" He had made himself comfortable on Cuddy's office sofa.
That got her attention. "What?" She looked at him like he'd finally huffed that last can of spray paint. "What makes you think I know anything about, about that?"
"Hmmm, I take it from your response that you do know something." He was examining his fingernails.
"House, don't be an idiot. Why do you want to know? Thinking of opening your own dungeon?" Cuddy gave him an exasperated look. She realized she shouldn't have gotten into a conversation with him this early in the week.
"Just curious." He switched gears, always a sure fire method of wreaking havoc with Cuddy. "How'd the hospital make out with that human trafficking case last week?"
"Well, JCAHO called this morning to congratulate us on the catch… wait, what do you care?" House was already limping out the door, chuckling to himself. Chloe was right.
Wilson's patient had left and House flopped into the 'bad news' chair in front of his desk. "Tell me something Wilson. What makes you people so gung-ho about feeling other people's pain?"
"Who's 'you people'?" Questioned Wilson, a bit more confused than usual.
"You know, all you do-gooders, hand-holders, altruistic-types."
Wilson considered for a moment. "Not that you care, but we really get our rocks off helping to ease the pain of others. It's an orgasmic high you can't believe!"
House snorted. "I'll stick to the usual method, thank you." However, he was pulling at his lower lip, so Wilson knew something was behind the question.
"The usual method being Vicodin and hookers?" Wilson retorted, just to maintain the game. "What's really bothering you, House?"
"It's just not logical to walk into the teeth of the lion when you don't have to."
"Well, since I can assume it's not you we're talking about, who are we talking about?"
"Chloe."
"What's going on with Chloe?"
"She's getting ready to do something stupid… again. I've either got to help her or stop her, I don't know which."
"Help her? Uh, what's your motivation for helping her?"
House's eyes had wandered to Wilson's Vertigo poster. "Actually, that would explain why she's never been afraid of me. Hmmm."
"Okay, you lost me, what are we talking about?"
House explained his conversation with Chloe over pizza and the peak into her past he had received.
"And you think she's going to do what exactly?" Wilson was intrigued by the revelation and at the same time, anxious.
House rose to leave. "Feed herself to the lions."
"House, you might want to be discreet with this information. This is the kind of thing nurses lose jobs and licenses over. Nursing boards still have terms like moral turpitude in their vocabularies. I'd hate to see Chloe being used as a scapegoat."
House left the office to seek out Chase. He found him in the speech therapy department. "Chase, got a minute you can spare away from your girlfriends down here?" Chase rolled his eyes at the pretty therapist he'd been talking to and approached House. They walked out into the hall. "If Chloe was going to do something stupid to save this Emily person from Jason Adler, how do you think she'd do it?"
"Esi."
"Huh?"
"Esi, her name is Esi."
"Whatever, answer the question."
Chase considered for a moment. "I don't know. There's a contract, she might try to buy it out, something like that. Knowing Adler, he wouldn't accept money, he'd want his pound of flesh." Chase was pleased at his literary reference and smiled.
"It's not funny. How would he exact this pound?"
"Well, it was rumored at one time that Adler wanted Chloe in the worst way and she wouldn't have anything to do with him. Pissed him off, as I understand it. So, he might want some kind of exchange, Chloe for Esi. Cripes, she's not thinking…"
"I'm afraid she is."
House would never understand people.