a/n: This is all Chase and Wilson. Enjoy!
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Chase released a deep sigh while his tired eyes stared hopelessly at his stoned mentor and now patient. He debated over whether to have Wilson take him home, but he didn't know how much heroin House ingested or how his body would react with all the other medication in his system. "Help me get him inside," he instructed Wilson, voice tinged with disappointment.
He turned the slumping House around in the seat, pulling his legs out of the car. Wilson wrapped House's right arm around his shoulder, while Chase took the left. Together they hauled him upward, with Chase kicking the car door shut behind him once they were clear. House's feet dragged listlessly along the sidewalk, toes pounding into the concrete as they led him up the stairs.
"Where did you find him?" Chase asked as they approached the doorway.
"A park bench in Trenton. He called me after the pain went away, figuring out he was in a bit of a mess."
"A bit?" Chase took the lead through the front door. "How much did he take?"
"I have no idea, but he's not coming down for a while."
Chase and Wilson gently put House down on the couch, where he slumped on his back without ever rousing. Wilson sank wearily into a nearby chair, while Chase paced in the center of his living room, trying to make sense of this mess.
Wilson watched Chase's pensive face. He never appreciated Chase's ability for shifty thinking, often finding his behavior dubious and more for House's pleasure than the best interest of the patients. He realized at that moment House needed a doctor like that more than ever. "Big mess, huh?"
"That's an understatement. I have to give him credit, he knew what he was doing. He picked a drug that would quickly metabolize through his system so the drug test on Monday would be normal."
"Or at least inconclusive."
Chase nodded in agreement.
Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes. His day was exhausting enough. House always had a way of making a rough day worse. "Have a seat. He's going to be out for a while."
Chase fell into the chair across from Wilson. He let his head fall back against the top of the soft cushion on the chair and closed his eyes as he exhaled. His nerves were officially shot. His head eventually drifted back upward, eyes fixed on the mass in front of him. The sight was too familiar. A slumping form on the couch, rumpled hair and clothes, beads of sweat sliding off of the pale skin, eyelids occasionally cracking open to reveal a sliver of bright blue before drifting closed again. The memories emerging inside him were thick and haunting.
Wilson analyzed Chase's icy stare in his friend's direction. He always suspected one reason House hired Chase was because he wasn't an easy read. If that was the case, House was dead on with that one. He couldn't tell at all what was going through the young man's mind.
"It's like déjà vu all over again." Chase said in a somber tone.
"What's that?"
"Nothing." Chase let his head fall back again and stared at the shadow patterns cast by the table lamp on the ceiling. It was more soothing to observe. He had seen House at extreme lows before, but this had to be the worst.
Wilson wasn't sure who was freaking him out worse, House or Chase. He leaned forward in his seat toward Chase. "Are you okay?"
"I'm doing much better than him," Chase replied.
Wilson took another look at his friend and shook his head. "In some ways, I think he had the right idea." He had to wonder at what point he would stop bailing House out of messes. Part of him refused to let go, and wanted to do whatever it took. He sat back in the chair, feeling too numb and paralyzed to resolve the questions within.
Chase snapped himself out of his funk for a brief moment, realizing despite everything he did have a guest. "Can I get you something? A drink? Beer? Whiskey?"
Chase's offer broke Wilson's pensive frame of mind as well. "The stiffer the drink, the better."
Chase got up and headed to the kitchen to get the supplies.
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The punch of the strong liquid at the back of his throat was everything he needed. Wilson welcomed that second to drift away from the troubling sight in front of him, to shake off the disturbing experience of having to drive to a dangerous part of Trenton at this time of night to perform yet another rescue. When the second was over, he glanced across the room at Chase, who was back in the opposite chair, holding vigil over House, without any alcohol for himself.
"You need a drink," Wilson said, taking another gulp from his glass.
"Can't." Chase muttered.
Wilson tilted his head, trying to guess what that response meant. "I've seen you drink plenty of times before."
"I don't drink when…during a crisis."
"Interesting habit."
"It's a rule I made a long time ago."
Wilson took another gulp of his drink, wondering if it was worth trying to crack that mystery. "Chase, you've been bearing an incredible burden. You're not alone in this."
Chase let out a small, appreciate smile. "I know."
Wilson placed his empty glass on the table in front of him, while Chase leaned over and poured out another serving. "Cameron came to my office in tears you know," Wilson said, picking up his replenished glass.
Chase frowned at the mention of her name. "Yeah, she told me she came to you when House was being difficult."
"No, I mean after she saw you. She felt awful and was very worried."
Chase didn't answer, not exactly showing a lot of sympathy.
"Not that I feel the need to defend Cameron, but all this has been tough on all of us." Wilson let out a deep sigh. "House has this way of making our lives miserable."
Chase took his focus off House, giving Wilson direct eye contact. "You could have walked away from him long ago. Why did you stick around where others didn't?"
Wilson shrugged. "Not sure. Maybe I'm just as damaged as he is."
Chase nodded in agreement. "I understand. The way we tolerate people in our lives often defies reason."
Wilson settled back in his chair, Chase's words sparking some curiosity. "Tell me honestly Chase, do you really believe House's dependence is physical, or was that just a show for Cuddy?"
"It's physical."
"Why are you so quick to conclude that?"
"House doesn't take these drugs to get high. He takes them to fight pain. Sure, his body has built up too much of a tolerance throughout the years and he's too set in his ways to seek other options, but his underlying motive is to fix a real physical problem."
Wilson didn't see it that way at all. "He told me he was an addict, when he detoxed over that bet with Cuddy."
"He lied."
"Why would he lie?"
Chase took in a deep breath, wondering if his logic would make sense. "Okay, lying might be the wrong word. He was guessing based on the withdrawal symptoms he suffered. I think in his case, he was confusing dependence with addiction."
Wilson sat up straight in his seat, intrigued now over where this was going. "How so?"
"Look at the definition of addiction. It's when someone is unable to stop a behavior despite being aware of the adverse consequences. If that is the case, then we are all addicts every time we go for the giant cookie in the cafeteria line."
"You think the definition is wrong?"
"I think it's vague, and not entirely accurate."
Wilson paused to analyze the interesting observation. Chase made some good points, but he still wasn't completely convinced. "It could be you just don't want to believe he's an addict. I've known him for years. He's always been reckless and self-destructive."
"That doesn't make him an addict. It makes him human."
"He took heroin Chase."
"Have you never done a stupid thing in your life?"
"Wait, I'm a little confused here." Wilson took another drink, hoping that would help him with this fuzzy logic. "First you want us to treat him like an adult and force him to accept the consequences, and now you are defending and applying reason to an act that's borderline suicidal? What's it going to be? When does he get to take responsibility for his actions?"
"He does, everyday, by showing up for work and doing his job. He functions, he saves lives, he teaches us his brilliant ways. That's a lot better than starting off everyday with Bloody Marys and being passed out on the couch by noon from a gin and tonic lunch."
Chase broke eye contact, dropping his head toward his lap, signaling that he said more than he should. Wilson thought back Rowan Chase's infamous visit. The way he avoided talking about or even mentioning his ex-wife led him to believe there was a family secret he didn't want to bring out. He suspected House knew exactly what the secret was, and was amazed that he never told him. Even with House, some things were sacred. "Your mother?"
Chase's silent pause confirmed that it was. "She did everything she could to destroy her life. She drove her husband away, shut her son out, and forced those around her to watch her slowly waste away. That's an addict. That's an irresponsible human being."
Wilson went to respond then hesitated, before convincing himself to go on. "If it's any consolation, that's my brother too. At least it was. I honestly don't know if he's alive or dead."
Chase looked up, surprised he would reveal his family secret to him. "It seems we both have our little scandals."
"It's easier to shut out those in your life that matter. That way the guilt of destroying yourself isn't as bad." Wilson looked at House, accepting that notion very much applied to him.
"It doesn't make the act any less selfish."
"No, I guess not," Wilson conceded.
Their conversation was interrupted by a little bit of restless movement began on the couch. House's head rolled back and forth on the couch pillow, his arms and legs twitching slightly. A slight moan escaped from the back of his throat.
"It lives," Wilson said acerbically.
Chase got up and put his two fingers to House's neck, checking the pulse. "Still pretty low." Two thin slits of blue fell on him in utter confusion. Chase leaned over and moved his lips near House's ear. "Wake up House!"
"Mmmm," he answered, letting his eyes fall back closed.
"Still loaded," Chase said, going back to his seat.
House's head lolled over to Wilson next, his eyes prying open wider, comprehending that his friend was by his side, but not able to process anything else.
"You're an idiot," Wilson told him. House cracked a small smile, rolled his head back and closed his eyes again.
Chase looked at his watch. "Withdrawal will probably start in an hour or two. Good times for him."
All of a sudden, House's cell phone went off. Chase and Wilson looked at each other, waiting for the other to get it. Finally Chase reached over and grabbed the phone from House's pocket. He was surprised, but yet wasn't, as to who was on the other end. "It's Cameron."
"I've talked to her enough today," Wilson said, unwilling to go there.
"You and me both. Still, if she's calling House, it's got to be good." Chase opened the phone. "Hello?"
"Chase? Wha…what are you doing with House's phone?"
Chase rubbed his weary eyes with his hand. "It's a long story."
"Where's House? I really need to speak to him."
"He's unavailable at the moment. Can I give him a message?"
Chase looked over to see Wilson roll his eyes. Apparently he wasn't at all impressed with Cameron's timing either.
"Chase, where is he?"
Chase could tell from the anxious tone in her voice with that question that this was not an ordinary phone call. "Just tell me what's going on."
"I'm at the hospital. Tritter was here, with two cops. They said someone in custody at the Trenton police station swears he sold House heroin last night. They want to bring him in for questioning."
Chase popped up in alarm, prompting him to rush to the front window and push aside the curtain. No sign of any cops. "Cameron. Send an ambulance to my house right now."
"An ambulance? Why?!?"
"Tell them I have a patient suffering from a severe reaction to prescription medication."
"What medication?"
"Combination of Vigabatrin and Vicodin."
"Oh my God. Chase, is something wrong with House? How bad is he?"
Chase ran his hand through his hair and gripped onto the top of his head. "Look, I can't explain right now. Just please do it."
"Chase, please tell me-"
"We are losing time here Cameron."
He heard the click on the other end. By this time, Wilson was on his feet, panicked as well. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Tritter is looking for him."
Wilson threw his hands up in the air, livid over what Chase was thinking. "So, you're getting an ambulance?! How…how does that make sense? They'll know he took heroin."
"No, they won't, because the paramedics will follow my instructions. If Tritter gets hold of him first, he'll get an order for a drug test and prove he did take heroin. This is the only way we can show he didn't."
"Can't we just hide him for a few days?"
"He's going to pretrial in two weeks. That would create just enough suspicion to force a trial."
Wilson saw the two blue eyes from the couch now staring at him more clearly. "How are you going to get people to believe this is an allergic reaction? More importantly, why? You shouldn't put your career on the line for him."
"He'll be in withdrawal soon. I can easily justify sweating, shaking, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea as an allergic reaction."
"The drug will still be in his system! Tritter will figure this out and still be able to get the evidence he needs."
"Not if we get him to the hospital first. There's one very effective way to fix an allergic reaction from two powerful medications. I have to flush them out of his system."
Wilson's jaw dropped, the crux of the plan finally hitting him. "Rapid detox? It's brilliant, but you shouldn't be doing this. You could get in huge trouble."
"How so? I have a sound diagnosis here."
"You know the truth! This is unethical on so many levels. You shouldn't do this. Let him face the ramifications."
Before Chase could answer, they heard a car door slam outside. Chase went over to the front window, hoping that was the ambulance. "Oh shit."
"What is it?"
"It's Tritter."
a/n: I've presented some pretty different viewpoints about addiction here. Opinions are of one Robert Chase and not necessarily my own. I really think that they are consistent with the character though. Feel free to agree or dissent. Thanks everyone for reading!
