It was peculiar how quickly the air can change in intensity. Just a few minutes ago Wilson had been walking outside in the cold air after getting out of his car with a parking spot inconveniently placed far away from the hospital—and he had been happy. Hopeful to be more exact. But as he stepped into the tepid depths of the hospital, it faded, leaving him stranded with a feeling of dread.
For some reason, the stinging winds that had penetrated through his thin jacket while he was outside did little to change his optimistic feeling. However, the warmth of the hospital brought him the feeling of dread. It was easy for someone to dismiss it, knowing how hospitals are not the most optimistic of places. But somehow he knew…he knew that Chase was not going to show up for that day—just like the previous one.
Unfortunately, Wilson's prediction had been more than correct and the fact that Chase wasn't picking up his calls made it worse. He didn't understand why however. What could make a man walk into an apartment and not be able to leave for 2 days?
Wilson tried his best to shrug his thoughts off. It had become a pattern that the doctor was used to. He would see Chase after a short absence, talk, and move about his day only to have Chase not return for a while. It was saddening how used to it he had gotten, but there was nothing else that he could do. He actually found himself looking forward to the conversations that he and Chase could have.
But when Chase did show up after his 2 days absence something had changed. Chase didn't talk to him. Chase didn't talk to anyone. He just went about his day like no one existed besides the ones required to do his work. When someone told him to do something, he nodded without his usual humorous objection on how anyone else on his team could do it.
Even though Chase was a very extrovert person, no one in the hospital knew him well enough to tell. They had only encountered him in small talk or his silly faces he would make down the hallway. To others, he was likaeble but not remember able. So no one noticed that he was acting oddly.
No one but Wilson.
It may have been mainly because Chase's actions were mainly pointed at avoiding him. He might have been overreacting but it seemed like such; Chase took different routes and would look in different directions to avoid Wilson it seemed.
It got to the point where Wilson couldn't take it anymore. He had to find out some answers. He knew tat House wouldn't bother him this time because he was stuck with clinic duty but that wasn't his main concern. His main concern was the hold House had on Chase without being there. It frightened him to think that House had that much influence. It was believable when examining Chase's weak character however.
He had to know if that could have been the reason on why he was avoiding him.
After doing some searching around the hospital Wilson saw Cameron and Foreman working in a lab.
"No." Foreman said as soon as he saw Wilson walk into the room.
"I didn't even say anything yet." Wilson was taken aback at the sudden answer.
"You're going to ask me to help talk to Chase about House." Foreman than looked up, thinking, before he shrugged and said, "Or vise versa."
Foreman said turning his glance away from his work temporarily to face Wilson. "So…No." This would have surprised anyone that didn't know Eric Foreman. He was always one to predict people's actions very easily. Maybe that's why he had left House before the abuse got worse.
"I could have come in here for a number of reasons." Wilson replied.
"Yeah, and you expect me to believe that you just wanted to randomly check up on us. Not buying it." Foreman dropped a liquid on a glass slide and continued with his work.
Wilson sighed. "Okay, you got me…" He felt some sort of shame as he relented. "Chase's condition is getting worse—."
"I like how I say no, yet you take that as a cue to continue."
Wilson adjusted his stance and closed in on Foreman. "Look, you're the only person I can come to for this."
"Which is…none of my business," he dismissed with a shrug and averted eyes from the person that wanted answer. Foreman answered his questions swiftly and with an apathetic expression.
"How is it none of your business? You've—!" Wilson stared at the other doctor until he looked up at him once more. Then he looked around and lowered his tone so that Cameron couldn't hear. "You've been through the same thing."
"Yes," Foreman laughed. "And where was this heroic version of you exactly when that was happened a long time ago?" Foreman snapped.
Wilson paused. "What …do you mean?"
"You know— when your best friend was beating on me?" Foreman's abrupt statement made Wilson pause midsentence. "You knew exactly what he was doing to me and you looked over it. Meanwhile you would try your hardest to defend your weak boy crush. You even go as far as to ask me to help?" Foreman's sentences remained calm but bitter.
"Foreman, you knew I had no way of knowing until the very end. The bastard's not even my best friend anymore. I didn't know how bad it was until you left him. I'm sorry—."
"Save it. I don't need your pity." It was harsh but it was true. Foreman seemed to always be strong willed regardless of situations that befell him.
Wilson sighed. "Look you said it yourself. Chase is weak. And even though you may hold some resentment to him—."
"Resentment? You have the whole reason why I'm refusing to help all wrong." Foreman almost chuckled at he looked into the microscope.
Wilson's face became puzzled in which foreman replied. "There is no way to help in this situation. You can't help someone that doesn't want it. He's basically throwing himself at the hits."
Wilson was shocked at what Foreman was saying. "You're…blaming Chase for being abused?"
"I'm blaming Chase for not running away."
"But he need help," Wilson attempted to say. "Look at what's –."
"No." Foreman's indifference to the situation was starting to irritate Wilson. "He doesn't need help. He needs someone to walk up to him and tell him not to be with House so that it could strengthen his will to be with House. It's a complete waste of time."
"Look, you know he's hurt! Do you even hear what you're saying?"
"What do you expect me to say? He's going out of his way to please a monster. Who knows. He might even like it." Foreman's tone became bitterer with every word he spoke and each sentence he said made Wilson all the more sick.
"Foreman…" Regardless of Wilson's efforts to try to reason with Foreman came in vain. "It's none of my business. Now if you excuse me, I have to get back to my job—something that you should be working on." Foreman walked away.
Foreman came back in from takeout. He wasn't into the hospital food as much as everyone else. He was about to go get a head start on his work but then he saw something peculiar. Chase was sitting down alone at the table at lunch. He looked like he struggled to eat.
Foreman sighed and walked over to him and sat down. And though he didn't care for him, he still felt somewhat sorry for him. When Foreman sat next to him, he was met with a surprised face.
"What?" Foreman asked.
"You…you've never sat next to me before." Chase stuttered.
"You've never sat alone before," Foreman said as-a-matter-of-factly as he took a seat next to him.
Foreman could tell that something was completely wrong with Chase. His breaths were short and quick and he sat in an awkward position and his wrists were rubbed raw, a sickening shade of blood red and purple as if tied from a rope. On top of that, he looked extremely frail.
The two sat there, eating awkwardly. Foreman hadn't necessarily planned the encounter out, but what Wilson said was starting to stick. He had to have done something other wise his guilt would have taken over. There was a long moment of silence before Chase spoke.
"Can I …uh… ask you a favor?" Chase asked, looking down as if ashamed to ask.
"Depends on what it is." Though he was showing sympathy towards the Aussie, he wasn't going to be untruthful.
There was a pause before Chase, touching his chest, said, "I need your help."
Foreman took a look into the x-ray room to see if the coast was clear. When he saw the room to be empty he sighed, "Alright let's make this quick. We're supposed to be working."
Foreman lifted up Chase's shirt and brought his hands up to Chase's sides, leading them around his torso. Chase recoiled at Foreman's touch as if scared to make contact with him.
"Will you relax? I barely touched you." Foreman snapped, a little too harshly—even he would admit that, but he couldn't help but feel irritated at the situation. He was here touching up on Chase's injured frail body, helping with something that he shouldn't be helping on; he couldn't tell if he was madder at House or at Chase at the moment.
"Sorry." Chase whispered it pathetically. Then Foreman realized that Chase wasn't someone who asked to be roped into circumstances like this. He was just too weak to escape. Escape someone like House, which Foreman assumed where such an injury came from. He couldn't have done this to himself.
"No, I am sorry," Foreman sighed. "Just stressed out a little. Okay?"
Chase nodded. The silence in the room was filled up with Chase's raspy breathing and occasional coughing. Then Foreman could see why. There was swelling in Chase's ribcage and the sickish purple color alone was enough to make Foreman feel uneasy. It was hard to listen to his struggle for breath but Foreman couldn't pinpoint why. He had dealt with this many times when with a patient.
"How long ago did this happen?" Foreman said as he touched his left rib. The slightest pressure made it worse.
"One and a half days ago. The pain keeps getting worse. It's getting harder to breathe—."
Foreman brought the lead vest and placed it on Chase. After they were done Foreman examined it. During this, Chase stared down, fidgeting. He didn't want to look at the damage House had done to him, though he could feel it every time he took a breath.
"They're not broken if that's the reason you're looking down."
Chase looked up, slightly relieved.
"But they will be if you don't get a cast." Foreman pointed the area out to Chase. It almost seemed to be surreal for the blonde. Then he finally spoke.
"I can't."
"You need a cast Chase; it's not really an option."
Chase shook his head. "No, I can't. I just can't…" Chase became noticeably more panicked.
Foreman became confused. "What are you talking about?"
"I…" Chase's eyes were distant as he talked to Foreman. "I can't…thank you Foreman." Chase fast walked to the door. It was now evident to Foreman that Chase was keeping something.
"Wait a minute." Foreman was slightly irritated but wanted to know what was up…more out of curiosity than sympathy. Or at least that's what he was telling himself.
Foreman paced after Chase, who started to increase the speed in his stride. Foreman finally broke into a run and caught up with Chase, grabbing him by his shoulder.
Chase screamed out in pain for some reason and broke out of Foreman's grip, rushing into another room. "Chase!" Foreman ignored the awkward stares he was getting from the other nurses.
Foreman ran into the room that Chase was currently residing in. Chase was turned around against a wall but Foreman could still tell that he was crying. It was accompanied by Chase's heavy breathing. It was almost sad to see him in such a state but foreman passed it off for his thoughts needed to be elsewhere in order to find out what was going on.
"Why don't you want the cast?" Foreman asked in an exasperated tone.
"I can't get it! Then House will know…" Chase screamed as he turned around.
"But your ribs—they can't receive any more damage. You know that. We're both doctors for crying out loud! What is going to happen if you have one?" Foreman was mostly screaming now. His anger spiked once he heard House's name.
"He'll hit me again…just when things are getting better he'll hit me! I'll be okay. I just won't do anything strenuous and—."
Foreman rolled his eyes. "This is fucking insane. Why do you let this happen to you?" He was fully angry now. Why can't he just fight back? Why can't he just leave!
"Please!" Chase begged. "Please! If you have to do a cast at least do one tomorrow! I just want to go home for one day without him hurting me!"
Chase sank into the floor against the cool wall whimpering like a sad child. It was then that Foreman found out why his raspy breathing had bothered him so much. That could have been him whimpering against the wall like some sort of wounded animal with no shame or sense of dignity as long he was with House.
"You're pathetic." Foreman walked out of the room half angry and half satisfied. He didn't care if Chase got better. He didn't care if he escaped House's seize.
Then why did Foreman find himself crying?
