"Breathe."

The word came out effortlessly with exasperation; it was all Chase could heard—a cold voice.

Chase abruptly opened his eyes, making direct eye contact with the person that stood above him. It was then that he realized that he was laying on the floor face up, body feeling like there was no way of getting in any air. While he lied there, he realized that the person had a doctor's white lab coat. It was Foreman, standing over him, doctor's long white lab coat uncannily draped down to the floor. He was expressionless, looking down at Chase with as much lack of expression in his look as any. He towered above Chase, not losing his eye contact as his voice, cold in command, repeated, "Breathe."

Chase attempted to talk, but was halted by the realization of why Foreman had been telling him that. He couldn't breathe. In fact, he didn't remember the last time in the newly made one sided conversation that he took a breath.

"Or you could just die," Foreman said indifferently, shrugging his shoulders. "The choice is yours."

'What?' Chase wanted to ask, lips desperately mouthing his words with all of his potency. Foreman's words created his newly made confusion which was, in a way more terrifying than the seconds that went by without air intake. He wanted to know why he was helplessly lying there unable to perform a function that was so easily done many a times before. It was as if he had forgotten how to repeat the action that Foreman was telling him to do. So used to doing it without command, the specifics on air intake was an abstract concept.

Chase lifted up his arm, barely able to control it with his dwindling strength and with this strength, he clawed at Foreman's shoes in a desperate attempt to try to beg for the other man's assistance.

Foreman took the hint but slowly shook his head, pursing his lips. "Sorry Chase—can't help. I should explain why I can't but I bet you're so low on oxygen right now that you can't even tell that I'm not actually here." Chase's eyes widened upon hearing the news. It sounded preposterous at first, but then he realized his surroundings. Everything was white. Everything was distant. And there was nothing there but him and Foreman.

Chase was lying on a floor that seemed to be only there to support him and Foreman.

"Yes, it is an illusion. Hallucination. Whatever. Now are you going to waste time thinking about where you are or a way to get out? Take a breath." Foreman stated in irritation. "You're in a state of shock."

Chase's body contorted as the struggle to breathe became unbearable, his gaping mouth gagging on the futile attempts to pull oxygen through his lungs.

"It seemed so easy before hadn't it?" Foreman said as he casually watched Chase suffer. "Something you've been doing ever since you were born and now struggle for. A really complicated action if you ask me. It's a lot harder than you think. Then again you're not used to anything being complicated now are you? You got everything going for you. Dating the smartest doctor in the hospital. You got nurses checking you out. Even got Wilson swooning over you."

Chase was now facing Foreman's bitter smile, as he rolled his eyes under the intensity of suffocating, scratching at his throat to try to force air through it.

"Well no one can help you now. You're trapped in yourself by yourself alone. You only chose to imagine me because you know that I'm the only one that can motivate you this much. If you don't breathe, you die." Then he whispered, "I'm in your mind Chase so you believe every word I say."

Foreman paused for a while, shaking his head disappointed as he watched Chase. "I was right. You really are pathetic."

Foreman started to walk away and as he did, Chase could feel his consciousness go with him.

It was then that Chase took in a breath. It was short but it was enough to make the shadows from the corner ff his eyes disappear as he slowly and painfully regained consciousness.

He took another one, trying to mimic the same action he took to take in the first previous breath.

Foreman's footsteps paused momentarily as he looked back. "Good," Foreman said. "I didn't think that you were capable of pulling it off. This will buy you some time. Now get ready. The real pain. It's coming." Then he continued his walk into the hidden depths of Chase's mind.

"What…pain?" Chase choked out as his lungs struggled to take in another breath.

Foreman stared at the blonde one last time, pursing his lips and shaking his head as he walked away. He forced his body to turn to his side so that he could see where he was headed.

Of course there was no general direction.

And of course Foreman didn't answer his question directly. He only called "It's only going to get worse."

"Foreman!" he called after him, feeling the slight aching returning at the amount of breath it took to call out the man's name with his now newly refunctioning lungs. "What pain—?"

Chase wondered. What pain? There was something more unbearable than this? There was a pain that felt worse than the feeling of having the life drain from him slowly? He felt nothing as he lied there for more breathe but the burning from his lungs. Then Chase felt it as soon as he asked, making him regret asking instead of bracing himself for the impact of what Foreman had described.

Chase screwed his eyes shut, screaming with te little air he had managed to take in as an outlet for the feeling growing in his chest.

"You're an idiot." He heard a voice sharp enough to dig into his throat say. "You honestly expected to believe that that would have been the worst pain you felt?" It asked incredulously.

Chase opened his watery eyes and blinked to clear his tears away to stare at House's. House knelt beside him there with the same mocking smile he had when insulting someone. Chase didn't answer him. He was frightened by House's indifference to his suffering. Suffering caused by him.

Where was his feeling of remorse? Or even guilt that he had beaten his boyfriend to the point where he was now involuntarily hallucinating the man while the injuries did his dirty work on his body.

"You have a freaking hole in your chest." House said this matter-of-factly. As if he was talking to a patient with no signs of remorse. "And internal bleeding and swelling—fractured bones."

Chase made a noise of question.

House cleared his throat. "Internal bleeding and swelling—fractured bones." He said louder.

Chase's expression was stuck in distraught as he stared at House's face—his ability to dismiss Chase's torment.

"Are you deaf?" House stated. "Well, I forgive you for making me repeat that. I mean you really can't hear anything above the sounds of your own screams at the current moment. Oh that's right!" House said as he saw Chase's confusion at the penultimate statement. "You don't even realize you're screaming do you?"

House made a face, seemingly cringing to the sound that he wasn't aware of. "Or how loud. It's starting to hurt my ears. You really should be more considerate, Chase. After all it was a challenge beating it out of you in the first place. You know, so you wouldn't run off again."

Chase then felt despair…so much despair to the point that his pain almost became distant. He was sinking in a sea of his own torture. It was, after all created by him. House was in his mind all the time because he let him in his mind. He let him beat him and put him down. Even as he lied there in his own mind, he was still being influenced by House.

"You shouldn't be so miserable Chase. Everyone feels pain once in a while." House said. "I mean…my leg hurts." He said, trying to justify the anguish that was caused by his hand."Besides," the demented doctor added. "You're used to it aren't you Chase?"

Chase felt a sudden feeling of pain that exceeded the rest. He looked down to see the source of it. House had his cane on Chase's wound and the blonde man screamed at its increasing pressure. Chase clawed at the cane, weakly begging him to let go with his tear filled eyes. He would have if he could speak. The pain was so great that it caused him to suffocate on it, making him give up. But that, however, was not the only contributing factor to his lack of zeal to fight back.

It was what House said next that did it for him.

"All you've ever felt with me was pain. And it's all you'll ever feel."

House put more pressure on the cane. Chase mouthed his name right at the moment he blacked out.

When Chase woke up he was lying on a hospital bed. He was relieved to see that his once ominous surrounding was now clear.

"House is so sweet isn't he?" Chase heard. He opened his eyes, blinking a few times to see Cameron sitting next to him.

Cameron leaned in and wiped the blood from Chase's mouth. He hadn't realized that it was there.

"Aren't you so happy that House does all this for you? He skipped his whole work day just to see you before he was sent back." Cameron squealed. "And look what he got you!" Cameron picked up a bouquet of flowers.

He instantly knew that those flowers were not from House.

They couldn't be. House hadn't put much effort into anything. He knew this not because of the miserable times he had with him but ironically from the few good times he had that had once convinced him that Gregory House was not as bad as everyone said he was. He remembered that House hadn't bought him flowers, but actually stole one from someone else's garden…or window seal? After all they lived in an apartment complex.

House had brought him the flower, half slanted from the lack of nutrition caused from the cut from its stem.

At the time Chase smiled at House's effort at being romantic and as Chase thought back, it confirmed his thoughts. He didn't feel like telling Cameron. He just played along with it with a nod and a realistic fake smile.

"Cameron," he choked out. "How long have I been here?"

"I don't know. But I came as soon as I heard." The two continued talking.

As the conversation moved forward, her smile eerily faded away.

Noticing this, Chase asked, "What's wrong?"

She avoided his eyes. "Chase…I…I have to tell you something," Cameron said.

Chase nearly cringed at how miserable her tone sounded compared to her earlier statements. "What?"

She looked at him with an expression of regret. "I don't really know if I should tell you. You seemed so happy up until this point."

"What are you talking about?" Chase asked, her last few words haunting him slightly. He didn't want to jump to conclusions conversely

Cameron bit her bottom lip, an expression of sadness now noticeably etched into her features. "You're gonna be mad…"

"Just tell me…" Chase barely whispered, now terrified at what Cameron had to say.

And he found out that he had every right to.

"This… isn't real. This is a delusion," Cameron cried out. "You're still…you're still…"

"What…?" Chase exclaimed, face contorting into one of shock and fear. But mostly anger. He wanted to yell at her to tell her to stop screwing around. Her words put him into a slight panic.

Of course, she could have been playing but he didn't feel like dealing with it after his last two extremely vivid hallucinations.

"I told you that you would be mad!" Cameron cried out. Her tone sounded so childlike that Chase almost wanted to apologize for snapping at her.

But then something…


It all happened in a flash—vaguely through the mist of anesthetics. The sound of another human in excruciating puncture his long lines of hallucinations, bringing him into his dreadful reality.

He cuould feel sudden impacts against his face and he shook it from one side to another.

"Chase," he heard a smooth voice gradually permeate the horrid mist surrounding him. "Wake up."

It was then that Chase realized that a nurse was trying to wake him up. They were slapping against his skin, shaking his arms and pinching his ear in order to try to drag him from his apparitions—but the only thing he was conscious of at the moment was the horrid screaming coming from somewhere.

"Oh, someone. Somewhere. They're in pain." Chase had managed to speqak out in a way he could tell was anon comprehensive version of the English language. The shaking of his body parts continued.

Chase slowly became aware of a band across his chest and also became aware of wanting to scratch it.

Another terrifying scream reached him. It was long and full of anguish, making Chase's hairs stand on end. The band had a severe and direct effect on my body as he arched his body away from the psychotic administrations from the nurse. He felt contractions and a burning sensation over the area of the band as another hysterical scream pierced the otherwise silence of the room.

Large spotlights above his head came into focus as he gradually rose from his anesthetized state, remembering that he was in the hospital for his…his ribs? Why were they trying to wake him up instead of putting him back to sleep? Excruciating pain shot across his chest and he doubled over in an instinctive reaction and was prevented by various pairs of hands holding him back against the table. There was more screams that made him sweat and it ran down his face and body as it fought to flee from the obvious dangers in his primitive environment.

"Who's the poor soul in pain?" Chase cried as several needles were stuck into him.

"It's you. Chase just try to lie still while we try to get more morphine to control your pain."

So he finally awoke, a searing, burning sensation across his lower chest bleeding into other areas of his body. His mind had tried its best to create an escape for all of the agony that his body was in. But as the hospital staff did their jobs, he had helplessly been dragged out of it into the cruel depths of reality that defied all instincts in thec desire to live. And through the haze of all the pain he sees Wilson above the other nurses, despite their efforts in trying to make him leave. He stood there, eyes fixed on Chase the whole time. "Make him leave!" One of the nurses yelled. Only to be replied by "He's a doctor," and "He's making the patient calm down."

Wilson was giving him tranquility

He didn't know why. He didn't know how. But

He could tell that Wilson was real and it filled him with the most warmth he had felt in days