Chase Fest

chase_fest @ 2008-06-04T20:49:00

2008-06-04T17:48:23Z

Title: Going to be Alright, part 2

"You are actually hurt by this, aren't you?" Wilson and House were sitting on the balcony outside of House's office.

"Hurt? I'm relieved. I'm free from my responsibility. This is a good thing."

"We wouldn't be here if you weren't upset about something."

"In fact I am so free, I can start torturing Chase without having to worry about picking up the pieces."

"Whoa, not being Chase's medical proxy does not give you licence to torture him now."

"Operation Drug Chase failed. So we are going to go with Operation Drug Chase Part 2."

"What? Are you going to drug his coffee again?"

"No stupid. When Plan A fails you should have a Plan B, not Plan A recycled. However you are allowed to recycle evil plan names."

"So what does ODC 2 entail?"

"Oo, cool acronym, I like. My plan is brilliant. It is split up in two steps. Step 1: Beating, blackmailing, torture."

Wilson sputtered. "What?"

"Step 1 will be called "Getting Wilson to agree to help with Step 2" Step 2 is so much easier, we'll just call it "Kidnap Chase and hold him at my place until he realizes error in his ways."" House stopped and thought for a second. "I need to come up with better names. These ones leave nothing to the imagination."

"Kidnap Chase?"

"Did I st-st-stutter?"

"Just kidnap Chase? Like thats perfectly normal."

"Yup."

"You are nuts. You wouldn't actually-"

House looked up innocently at Wilson.

"You couldn't actually... You can't House!"

"This is why there are two steps to my plan."

"You can't get me to help you with this. There is absolutely no way."

MDMDMDMDMDMD

"This is madness. I can't believe I'm helping you with this."

"Shut up already. You'll always help me, no matter how illegal, immoral, or demeaning my plan. Because you know I'm right in the end."

Wilson shook his head. "But this is different. Its Chase."

"And..." House looked genuinely perplexed.

"Well, its different. I have to work with him after this is through."

"Stop worring about it. Its Chase. He isn't your minion, you don't really like him, and you wanted me to fire him before."

"He ratted you out."

"So think of this as late pay back."

"You had your pay back."

"Well then we're even and I need to maintain a lead- Wait. Here he comes. Step 2 is commencing..." He checked his watch, "Now."

MDMDMDMDMD

Chase had had a really long day.

It had been four days since House had tried to drug his coffee. After their confrontation about that, House had stopped speaking to Chase, except to tell him to do clinic duty. Wilson seemed to be hanging around more, but was always jumpy when Chase tried to talk to him. Cameron kept giving him her patented dissapproving glares and hastling him for returning to work too early. Foreman, thankfully, couldn't care less about Chase or what was going on.

Today had been International Idiot Day at the clinic.

One man had brought his son in because his son had stuffed a plastic car up his nose. While Chase was removing the offending toy, the man kept repeating "I just can't figure out how he got it up there." Ten minutes after they left, the man returned, bulge in his nose, proudly stating "I figured it out."

His leg kept acting up throughout the day. It was worse today than it had been for a while. Torturous dull aches made him extremely irritable with the clinic patients, he actually made one woman cry. Despite all his efforts he was ending up more and more like House every day.

One particularly bad attack from his leg, made him collapse. He'd just entered the elevator when a wave of pain took him by surprise. He collapsed as the doors closed. Lucky for him the elevator was empty, so nobody heard him scream.

He shuddered now to think what would have happened if Cameron found out about how bad he was. But today was Friday. He had the weekend, no more keeping up his facade of not being in unbearable pain. He'd be at home, no one to bother him, no one to hear him curse when the pain got bad, and no one that he had to be nice to either. Eventually he'll get better, he won't always be like this. As long as people leave him alone he'll be able to get better.

"Dr. Chase!" Wilson came running up from behind a corner. "Hey, Chase. Uhm... Have any plans for the weekend?"

Chase was slightly confused by Wilson asking this. Wilson didn't really like him. "Uh... No, nothing in particular." He was screaming mentally, *Leave me alone, let me leave, Please to merciful god in heaven let me leave!*

"How about we... go for a drink then."

"Uh... sorry. I... I-"

"C'mon, it'll only be for a little bit."

"I don't think that is a good idea. Thanks." Chase tried to keep walking.

"Please."

"I'm sure House would be happy to go with you. I'm kinda busy."

"I need to talk to you about House."

"You need to talk to me?"

"I would rather not talk in the hospital, you know how House is. He hears everything. But this is important. He's...he's planning some things, things involving you... that you might not appreciate."

"What sort of 'things'?"

"Can we talk someplace else besides the hospital?"

Chase knew this wasn't a good idea. There was a warning siren going off in the back of his head, all systems were on red alert. But he ignored all that. He nodded. "Fine."

Wilson looked relieved, and somewhat surprised. "Great. I'll pull my car up to the front so you don't want to walk."

"That would be nice, thanks."

MDMDMDMDMDMD

Chase stood on the sidewalk waiting for Wilson to pull around. A growing knot in his stomach and ache in his leg told him this wasn't a good idea, told him that he should just turn around right now and run. Well... maybe not run.

"Wilson is taking to long."

Chase jumped. "House!"

"Chase."

"Wh-what are you doing here?"

"Waiting for Wilson."

"Wh-what?"

"Aren't you doing the same?"

"I uh...No. No...I'm going to go home now." He started to limp away. A firm grip on his arm prevented him from moving.

"Here he comes now." Wilson's car turned the corner and was heading towards the pair.

"Let me go House."

Wilson pulled up in front of them. House kept his grip on Chase's arm. "Don't make a scene Chase. Get in the car."

"What the hell do you think you are doing? Let me go House."

Chase tried to pull away. He finally jerked his arm free, but his momentum made him fall. Wilson jumped out of his car to help him up.

"I'm sorry Chase. I'm really really sorry." Wilson apologized as he pulled the younger man up. Chase tried to struggle out of the other doctor's grip.

"Just let go of me Wi-" He was cut off by a sharp sting on his arm. He looked to see House finish pushing down the plunger on a small needle. "What the..." his body immediately started to feel heavier, "Hou..." He went limp in Wilson's grasp.

"Jesus!"

"It always makes me uncomfortable when you call me that. You know that Wilson."

"You drugged him."

"Get him into the car before someone notices."

"You drugged him."

"Yeah, get him into the car before someone notices."

"You-"

"Stop repeating it. Did you really think he was going to come quietly? Load him up. Lets bounce."

"Lets bounce?"

"What? Its what you say."

"When you're a teenager. Not a forty year old man, it just sounds weird."

"I'm young at heart. Now seriously, lets go."

MDMDMDMDMDMDMDMD

Hushed hissed voices greeted Chase as he came too. He groaned in pain. It felt like there were a thousand jackhammers pounding in his head. But that had nothing on his leg, which was an entity onto itself in the vast world of pain.

"I can't believe this."

"You don't have to stay if you don't want. I don't need your help anymore."

"We kidnapped someone. Not just someone, a co-worker. And not just any co-worker. Chase. We kidnapped Chase. We... this is just nuts. We can't do this House. We could go to jail."

"Thank you Captain Obvious, without you I would have been so lost. If I'd known you were going to be such a pansy about this I wouldn't have let you help."

"Let me help? *Let* me help?" Wilson's voice climbed in octaves. "You didn't 'let' me do anything. You forced me to do this. You blackmailed me into doing this."

"Please. If you truely believed this was not the right thing to do you would not have gone along with any of the plan."

There was a brief moment of silence.

"So... what do we do with him now?"

"What do you mean what do we do with him? This was your master plan."

"You are the person who does that comfort stuff though. I don't know how to be nice. People thank you when you tell them they are dieing. People punch me when I cure them."

"This was all your idea."

"Do you really want me planning this last part?"

Another moment of silence. Chase looked around at his surroundings. He was in a small room, it probably once was House's study, there was a desk set and several bookshelves, but anything breakable or personal had been cleared out. He lying on a futon, it still had that new warehouse furniture smell, Chase wondered how long they had been planning this. The door was closed, but he could hear House and Wilson arguing in the living room.

"We should probably see if he's awake yet. What exactly did you give him?"

"Midazolam."

"He'll have a bitch of a headache."

"I was hoping that will make him a bit more compliant."

"It'll just make him grumpy."

"Do you remember which key opens this door?"

"What do you mean which key?"

"I'm *sorry*, I don't usually lock doors in my house."

"Hey, this was your idea."

Chase groaned inwardly. He'd been kidnapped by Stan and Ollie. Well, here's another nice mess he'd gotten himself into. He should have run the moment Wilson asked what his plans were for the weekend. He heard the door unlock. He closed his eyes and pretended to still be asleep, maybe they'll leave him alone so he could figure out a way to get out of the house.

"He isn't up yet. How much did you give him?"

"I gave him enough. He'll be fine."

"But he should be up by now."

"Well then go give sleeping beauty true love's first kiss."

Chase heard the two men approach him. He opened his eyes just as Wilson was reaching down to shake him awake. Wilson jumped back in surprise.

Chase pulled himself into a sitting position and glared at them.

"Glad to see you are awake."

Chase refused to say anything.

Wilson felt guilty and tried to explain. "This probably seems weird to you-"

House cut him off by snorting. "Understatment much?"

"-but we have a good reason for doing this."

Chase continued to glare.

Wilson sighed. "We know you aren't dealing with your pain in healthy way. This might seem a bit extreme, but we want to be able to help you come to terms with your injury."

"Translation from Wilsonese, you don't get to leave until you start taking pain meds."

Wilson glared at House. "I thought you wanted me to help. You could try some tact."

"He's not a little kid. He's not going fall for the "Daddy drove Fido to the happy farm, and Fido is going to be chasing rabbits and having sing-a-longs all day" trick. Be blunt with him, he won't understand if you sugar coat things."

"I'm not sugar coating anything. I'm just trying to explain to him what is going on."

"Well he'll never understand if you explain things in a round about way. He's blonde, he'll get lost."

"He is right here."

"Well then stop talking as if he isn't" House turned to Chase. "Right?"

Except Chase wasn't there. He'd escaped while House and Wilson had been arguing.

"Great. Just great. Look what you've done Wilson. Now we've become second rate cliched movie villans. I don't know if I can handle the shame." They heard a thump and a crash in the living room. Wilson ran out. House followed at a more lesuirly pace.

Chase was sitting on the floor clutching his leg, his face screwed up against the pain. Wilson kneeled beside him.

"What is it Chase? Is it your leg?"

"No shit Sherlock."

Wilson glared at House.

"Well of course it is his leg. What else would it be?"

"House-"

"I'm just-"

"Shut up, both of you." It was the first words Chase had spoken since he'd been kidnapped. "Please."

Wilson sighed and offered his hand. "Lets get you on the couch alright?"

Chase took a moment before nodding and allowing Wilson to help him.

"So what happened?" Wilson asked once he'd gotten Chase settled.

Chase winced. "I guess I moved to fast. Pulled something. I'll be fine in a sec."

"Here." House held a pill. Vicodin. Chase shook his head.

"I'll be fine in a sec, I don't need that."

"Just take the damn thing."

"I don't want it."

"Look, the sooner you start taking these, the sooner you can go home. Its why we brought you here."

"You kidnapped me to make me a drug addict?"

"Well when you put it that way, yeah it sounds bad. Try seeing things from our point of view."

"I'm trying to see things from your point of view, but I can't seem to get my head that far up your ass."

"Snappy today aren't we."

"You kidnapped me. Did you really expect me to be nice to you?"

"Okay, I'll admit that kidnapping you wasn't the nicest way I could help you. How about this, I'll try being nicer if you try being smarter. Take pain medication."

"I don't need pain medication."

"You're leg is more messed up than mine."

"Well maybe I can handle pain better than you."

House glared before taking the pill himself. "Fine, at least I have a positve attitude about my destructive habits. You can go back to your room. Dinner will be at 7."

"You're actually going to keep me locked up in your house until I take pain medication?"

"Yeah. Wilson, take the prisoner back to his room."

"And Wilson is my guard? You do realize how ridculous this is right?"

"You've forced us to extremes. Wilson. Prisoner. Room."

Wilson sighed and offered Chase a hand, giving his new 'prisoner' an apologetic face.

mdmdmdmdmdmdmd

"House, this is seriously ridiculous."

"Fifteen seconds to go."

"Just get out of my way."

"Ten...nine... eight... "

"You are really so childish."

"... four ... three... two... one... Okay. You may pass."

Chase heard the door to his room unlock. Wilson walked in balancing a tv tray with Chase's dinner. House followed.

"He wanted to wait until exactly 7." Wilson explained.

Chase didn't answer, he'd gone back to glaring at his captors.

House smiled. "If you start taking your pills like a good boy, next time you can come out for dinner."

Chase sighed, but still refused to say anything.

"Oh come on, the cold shoulder treatment is so elementary school."

Wilson smiled apologetically at Chase as he put the tray down. Spinach lasagna, salad, orange juice, water, and two white pills.

"You should really thank Wilson here for your meal. I was going to keep you on gruel and water."

"House, just leave alright. You aren't helping." Wilson snapped. Chase was still silent.

House seemed to debate wether or not to retort. He glanced at Chase, and Chase was surprised to see something like guilt flit across the older man's face.

"Our own food is getting cold." House left.

"He cares about you. A lot." Wilson stated as he checked Chase's leg. The cast was supposed to be coming off soon, to be replaced with more easily removable splints.

"Then why is he doing this? In fact why are you going a long with this?"

"I guess I learned my lesson when it comes to questioning House's methods. He's always right in the end. And House... he's doing this because... well he just doesn't know what else to do. He's scared for you."

"There isn't anything to be scared about. I'm still failing to see why my not taking medication is any of your buisness. If I was a junkie or something, then I could understand. But this has yet to affect my job."

"See that's where you are wrong Chase." House was standing in the doorway

Wilson shook his head. "House, I thought I told you-"

"You're crippled. Forever. Your job is affected, you can't run to codes, you can't take the stairs, and you will be pitied and looked down upon everywhere you go. On the plus side you get better parking spaces."

Chase turned away from House to face towards the far wall.

"You asked the reason why I am doing this. You're afraid of your injury. You won't take the pain medication becasue that means you need help, if you need help, that means you have a problem."

"I know I have a fucking problem." Chase snapped.

"At least you're talking to me now. We're getting somewhere. What is it that they say in those rehab programs? The first stage in recovery is recognition? I wouldn't really know, Rehab is for quitters."

"I am well aware that I am permanantly crippled, I am well aware of all that comes with the territory of being crippled. But I don't need or want to deal with this with medication."

"It helps."

"I don't need help."

"I don't want you to end up like me."

"I won't."

"The pill isn't a shackle Chase. Its a shield. Pain wears you down, it'll eat at you until there isn't anything left." House sighed. "I know. And I care enough to not want that to happen to you."

Chase was quiet for a moment before he finally sighed. "I'm tired."

Wilson smiled at him. "Eat your dinner, then try to rest. I'll be on the couch if you need anything."

"Should we lock the door?" House asked

"I won't be going anywhere."

Wilson nodded "Goodnight Chase."

"Goodnight Wilson, goodnight House."

House nodded before leaving. Wilson shut the door so Chase would be able to rest. He stared at the door before murmuring, "Thanks."

The two white pills were still on the side of the plate. He took them.

MDMDMDMDMDMD

Two weeks later...

"Get him to stop calling me Shultz." Wilson complained, pointing at the blonde doctor sitting at the confrence table.

House made a face. "He's right, there is something wrong with you calling him Shultz."

During Chase's 'captivity' they went through several Hogan's Heroes marathons, as Chase and House thought it best fit the situation at House's house. It just seemed right.

Chase stopped chewing on his pencil. "Why?"

"Cause that makes me Klink, and I've always thought I was Hogan."

"It doesn't neseccarly make you Klink, Cuddy could be Klink. You can still be Hogan," Chase reasoned, House nodded, seeing the logic. "But what does that make me?"

"You are Carter."

"Aww... Why can't Cameron be Carter?"

"Because she is Lebeau."

"Is Foreman Baker or Kinchloe?"

"Kinch of course. Who is going to be Papa Bear/London?"

"Cuddy?"

"I thought she was Klink."

"She can double."

"Alright. Left breast Klink, Right breast London. What do you think Shultz?" House turned to Wilson.

"I see nothing, I hear nothing, I know nothing. Shultz is going to stick isn't it?"

Chase and House nodded. Wilson sighed and left. Cuddy came in soon after.

"House, you were supposed to be in the clinic hours ago. Get down there now, or I'll double your hours."

"Thats against the Geneva Convention!"

"It is cruel and unusal punishment." Chase agreed, Cuddy shot him a look, he held up his hands. "For the patients I mean."

"Just get down there House." Cuddy warned. She left in a huff.

"Anyway, before we were so rudely interrupted by Wilson, I was going to ask, how is your leg now?"

"We're getting the cast off today. Moving to the splints."

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm doing alright." Chase smiled at House.

"And the pain?"

"Kept manageable by these." Chase shook the now ever present bottle of pills.

House nodded, but felt something, suspiciously like guilt, inside him when he saw Chase with the pills in his hand. He needed to talk to Wilson.

MDMDMDMDMDMD

"So did I win?"

"What do you think?"

"If I knew, would I be here?" Wilson didn't answer. House took a deep sigh. "He's more sarcastic than before, a bit snippy at times. He's taking the pills regularly. But on the other hand he's dealing with his injury."

"So?"

"I didn't win. He's more like me than before."

"In what way?"

"Didn't you just hear me? Sarcasm, pills."

"The pills, you wanted him to take. They are helping him deal with his injury. And he's always been a little sarcastic. You just notice it more because you are watching for it."

"So you don't think he's becoming more like me."

"He's always been a bit like you."

"You know what I mean."

"You were afraid that he'll be bitter, cynical, withdrawn, miserable, and depressed. Has that happened?"

"Not completly."

"You want to know if you won. I don't think that was quite the point."

"What do you mean not quite the point?"

"It isn't your game to play. It isn't your game to win. A better qustion would have been did Chase win?"

"Did he win?"

"What is he supposed to do to win?"

"Dammit Wilson." House glared. "Stop that."

Wilson shook his head. "I don't know what is going on in your head House, and I'm getting the idea that you don't really know yourself."

MDMDMDMDMD

Stupid Wilson was no help at all, House thought to himself. Not knowing what was going on in his own head, he's House! he knows everything. He has the uncanny ablitiy to see everyone else's motives, he most definatly has the ablitiy to understand his own. Stupid Wilson.

Cameron and Foreman were in the confrence room, but Chase was no where to be found.

"Where's Chase?"

"He went to get his cast off."

"Aha. So that means the lucky fellow is..." He covered his eyes and waved his finger around, "you." He pointed at Foreman. "Go do clinic duty. Don't forget..." he glanced around at the bookshelf and hobbled over to the desk, searching, "Where's my name tag?"

Foreman rolled his eyes. "Chase took it. He said he'd do your clinic duty after he got his cast off."

"He offered to do my clinic duty?"

"No, he took your clinic duty. Because you'd make him do it anyway, and this way he wouldn't have to come back up here to be insulted."

"What if I wanted to do my own clinic hours?"

"But you don't, and you never do."

"But if I did?"

"I'd say you're being childish, and the only reason you want your clinic hours now is because Chase has them."

"You could be fired for saying things like that. Me being childish. The nerve!" House stalked to the door. "Oh and Foreman,"

Foreman looked up.

House executed a perfect razzberry, and left.

mdmdmdmdmdmd

"You should stop making Chase do your clinic hours."

House turned to Wilson, they were riding the elevator down to the lobby. "Why?"

"Well, because... it would be the nice thing to do, and a decent human being would- forget it, I forgot who I was talking to."

"Snappy. Well, today I didn't give Chase my clinic hours, he stole them."

"He stole them?" Wilson raised his eyebrows, "You would never steal clinic hours."

"What are you talking about?"

"You were worried he was becoming too much like you."

"He stole them for selfish reasons, didn't feel like coming all the way back up to diagnostics from orthopedics to be insulted and sent down to clinic."

"Still. Recognition of the ineviatable, and acceptance of it, thats also completely unlike you."

"Thats not what he has to do to win."

"What are you looking for?"

"Proof. Proof that he's going to be alright."

"And what is going to prove that to you?"

"I don't know."

MDMDMDMDMDMD

"Ah, Nurse Brenda. I'm looking for my escaped wombat, you may have seen him, blonde, 5 um... 10ish, talks a little funny, has a limp."

"Exam room 3, he has a patient. Oh, and Dr. House."

"Yes dear."

Nurse Brenda fixed him with a death glare. "Stop dropping your clinic hours on that poor boy."

"He stole them this time."

"Mm-hmm."

"Seriously."

She looked at him incredulously and went back to work.

"That woman is a-"

"There are children present House."

"And?"

"Children with mothers who are a lot worse than whatever you were about to call Nurse Brenda."

"I could have been about to say something nice."

"You could have, but you weren't."

House pushed open the door of the exam room. Chase had his back to the door. There was a young girl, about six or seven on the exam bed, her mother was arguing with the Australian doctor.

"... I know my child, and I know that this is serious. It can't possibly be just a cold."

"We could run some tests, but really Ma'am, there is nothing wrong with your daughter."

"But the headaches, and she has a fever."

"She has the flu, I'll write you a script for Tamiflu, but thats really all I can do."

"How am is anyone supposed to take you seriously? You're probably fresh out of med school. You're not even American." She spoke slowly, the way one speaks to the mentally challenged. "I would like a real doctor please, to diagnose my child."

"She has the flu." House finally spoke up from the door way.

"How would you know?" The woman snapped. "You don't look like a doctor."

"Dr. House, Head of the diagnostics department."

"I thought HE was Dr. House. IT says so on his name tag." The woman replied.

"Oh, Dr. Chase, you grabbed the wrong lab coat again, no wonder mine didn't fit." He turned to the woman, "Blondes. You know how THEY are." He stepped in and examined the young girl. The girl glared at him.

"Why is your leg also messed up? Did you also get in an accident? My mommy says that people who get in accidents are idiots. My mommy says that doctors are even worse because they think they are better than everyone else." House didn't reply as he continued to examine the girl, and the woman was to busy glaring at Chase to chastize her daughter, so the young girl continued. "You need to shave, you look like a bum."

House 'accidently' wacked her leg with his cane as he was walking around.

"OW!!! MOMMY!!! He hit me!!" The woman was at her side instantly cooing gently at her child, trying to get her to calm down.

"Well, it appears that Dr. Chase did miss something."

The woman smiled smuggly and Chase looked shocked. "She's also suffering from a terrible genetic disease. Its passed on maternally."

The woman paled. "Oh my goodness. Is there anything you can do?"

"Well I'm afraid there is really no cure. Its so sad to see it affect someone so young."House shook his head sympathetically.

"Oh my poor baby." She hugged her child, then turned to Chase. "And you thought there was nothing wrong with her."

House shook his head, "Really Dr. Chase, you should have been able to recognize the signs of Terminal Bitchiness immediately."

"Terminal Bitchiness?" The woman started to look livid.

"Your daughter has the flu. You don't even need the medication Dr. Chase was going to give you, she'll be fine in a few days. As I said, the bitchiness is something we can't do anything about. Dr. Chase, I need a consult." He turned to leave, Chase started to follow.

"Just where do you get off on talking to people like that Doctor? Do you think just because you have some fancy degree, that you can treat other people like dirt?" The woman stormed towards House. She punctuated her last words by jabbing her finger into House's chest. Wilson and Chase moved forward to restrain her. She entirely flipped out. "Get your hands off me! Don't you dare touch me!"

She backed up and bumped into Chase, sending him to the floor. He gasped in pain. Nurse Brenda came into the room, having heard the commotion. She saw the hysterical woman and the blonde doctor on the floor. She rolled her eyes, why oh why did the Dean force that curmudgeonly gimp House into her clinic? It always led to trouble.

House swore never be rude to Nurse Brenda ever again when he saw how quickly and brutally she restrained the hysterical woman and removed her and her child from the hospital. Wilson and Chase looked similarly shocked. Wilson recovered suficently to help Chase off the floor.

"How are you?"

"Peachy." Chase grinned, but the tightness around his eyes and paleness of his face alerted the other doctors to the pain he was in.

"Where are you pills?" House asked.

"I got them here." Chase patted his pocket but didn't make anyother move to take one.

"Well, then take one." House prompted.

Chase shook his head. "I took one an hour ago, its too soon for another."

Wilson shot House a significant look. "So you're conscientious about not abusing the pain medication." House frowned, Chase was confused.

"Yeah of course. I mean why-"

"Why did you try to restrain that woman Chase? With your crutches, you wouldn't have been able to do anything." House asked.

Chase blushed, "I'd kinda forgotten about them."

House shout a significant mocking look at Wilson. "So you don't seem to have come to terms completely with your new physical limits." Wilson frowned this time, Chase was becoming more confused

"I'd just forgotten about them this once, I was worried about what she'd do to you." Wilson suddenly jumped triumphantly

"So you care about other people's well being, and would try to help them even if it puts your own well being in danger." House pouted. Chase came to an understanding.

"This isn't really about me is it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"This is some weird thing going on between you and Wilson. I might be in the middle, but I'm not really involved." Chase waited but niether House nor Wilson seemed like they were going to deny his point. "So does this... 'thing'...require me to be in the room, or can I go and continue my work?"

House remembered why he came to the clinic in the first place. "Hey, those are my clinic hours. Gimme back my name tag."

Chase shook his head. "No."

"What?"

"Finders keepers."

"C'mon, these are clinic hours, you don't fight over them, you dump them on the first sucker you can find, so give them back."

"They're mine now."

"You're being really childish." House shot Wilson another significant look. Wilson frowned, but he was having too much fun watching the exchange to do anything about it.

"You're being childish. You just want them because I have them."

"Well then why do you want them?"

"Because you want them."

"Oh so you are being childish."

"Yeah, but then again, I am half your age, so I'm allowed to be."

"HOUSE!!!"

"Ah, Cuddles." House grinned. Wilson and Chase froze in place, maybe if they didn't move she wouldn't notice them, and they wouldn't be in trouble.

"Don't cuddles me. You caused another incident with Another patient AGAIN. There is a woman in my office saying you emotionally traumatized her daughter. She also had a few choice words to say about you Dr. Chase, and Nurse Brenda. Wilson what are you doing here?"

"Leaving." Wilson left the room quickly.

"CHICKEN!" House shouted at the retreating form.

Cuddy rubbed her temples. "Please House. I would really really really appreciate it if for one day. One teeny tiny day you would not antagonize a patient."

"She was harassing Dr. Chase."

Cuddy turned to Chase, "Is that true?"

"Uh...well, she didn't like my diagnosis."

"She was insulting him, ignoring his diagnosis and making fun of his nationality." House explained.

"So it was basically it was like a normal day working with House." House frowned.

Cuddy looked slightly relieved. "Well, if we can prove that she initiated hostilities then we can prevent her from pressing charges."

"She also pushed Chase over."

Chase glanced over, "Wow, you're being really snitchy today House, whats come over you?"

"Well you aren't complaining. Someone has to."

"Well maybe if you-"

"Chase, what does your name-tag say?" Cuddy noticed there was something wrong with the picture. It didn't match the face wearing it.

"Uh... Dr. Gregory House."

"Why does Chase have your name tag?"

"He stole it." House whined.

"House, I am so sick and tired of you dumping you clinic hours on your fellows. Especially Chase."

"Wait, why especially me? I can do clinic hours just as well as anyone else."

"Well that woman didn't think so." House supplied.

"Well that woman can just-"

"Dr. Chase, please. Lets try to be a little mature here."

"Why *especially* me?"

"Because you're crippled idiot." House explained.

"Look who's talking," Chase snapped back.

"House please. Chase, I... didn't mean anything by it. Its just that House usually dumps his clinic hours on you, and it isn't fair to you at all. Now, I'll go deal with this woman. House do your *own* clinic hours, since you are already here." She left the room. Chase raised his eyebrows at House.

"I should have offered her a shovel so she could pile it higher. You'd think that she would be better at lying with all the practice she gets with her job." Chase started to exit the clinic.

"Chase!" House followed the other man. "Chase, you know what she meant."

"Yeah, I think I got the message."

"You're kind of being harsh."

"Who are you and what have you done with Dr. House? Since when did you care?"

"You know that things are going to be different because of your leg. You know people are going to be looking at you differently, they'll be looking down on you, they'll be pitying you."

"That doesn't mean I need to let them."

MDMDMDMDMDMDM

"I think he won."

"I could have told you that." Wilson stated between bites of his sandwich.

"Well then why didn't you?"

"Would you have believed me?"

House conceded."Good point."

"So he's going to be alright?"

"Yeah. He's going to be alright."

chase_fest @ 2008-06-04T20:48:00

2008-06-04T17:46:57Z

Title: Going to be Alright.
Author: Vulcanluver
Warnings: Mild cursing, mentions of substance abuse (kinda sorta), pretty tame actually.
Disclaimer: House MD is not mine, never has been, never will be. Yada yada, is there really any point to these stupid things?
Prompt: #130 (This one is stupid and cliché...) Chase is injured leaving him disabled in a way similar to House. House helps him come to terms with it.
Summary: See prompt

Today was not going to be a good day.

Chase could feel it in the air as he got up. Something was definatly going to go wrong today. That made it extra hard to convince himself that getting out of bed was a good thing. Thankfully he had something that helped.

"OHHHHHH!!!! Who lives in a pinapple under the sea?
SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS!!!
Absorbent and yellow and pourous is he!
SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS!!
If nautical nonsense be something you wish!
SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS!!!
Then drop on the deck and flop like a fish!
SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS!!!
Ready?
Get up Chase. This is your wakeup call. From something blonder and dumber than you are. Yes it is possible. He's also from Down under... the sea. Ha ha... boy I just crack myself up, I truly am great. Now Get UP. Five minutes before I start singing again... You are so late. You were supposed to be here to make the coffee."

The answering machine clicked off. Chase moaned as he threw himself out of bed. How did House know all the lyrics to the Spongebob Squarepants theme song? Why did Chase know those were the lyrics to the Spongebob Squarepants theme song? How did he know what Spongebob even was? There was an answer to all three of those questions. It was House. And that was explination enough for almost anything. Wait a second... how was he late?

Chase turned to face his clock. 6:35. He wasn't really late, He didn't really need to be in until 7. But they had all gotten in the habit of coming early. Chase came at 6:30 to make the coffee, Foreman and Cameron came around 6:40. House came when he felt like it. Recently he'd started showing up at the same time as Chase because "I like to get the first cup of coffee."

This was strange. He had arranged for a wake up call service to call his pager at 6:00. His pager was the only thing that could always wake him up, the puny alarm on his actual clock didn't really work. His pager had never gone off. The service was very good, and supposed to be reliable. Weird.

The floor was freezing cold under his feet and so he hurried to the shower. Just as soon as he'd put shampoo in his hair he heard the phone ringing. Just perfect...just perfect. Who would be calling? Only one person called his house. And that was... Oh no, House wasn't serious when he said 'five minutes before he started to sing again, was he? Of course he was...It was House.

The answering machine clicked on again. The apartment filled with House's voice.

"It's time for Animaniacs!!!
And we're zany to the max
So just sit back and relax
You'll laugh 'til you collapse
We're animan-iacs

Come join the warner brothers
And the Warner sister, Dot
Just for fun we run around the Warner movie lot
They lock us in the tower
Whenever we get caught
But we break loose and then vamoose
and now you know the plot"

Chase tried to quickly exit the shower to get to the phone. He cursed when shampoo entered his eyes. Boy that stung. He could barely see, and almost slipped in the tub. Damn House. But wow, the man had some lung power.

"We're animaniacs
Dot is cute and Yakko yaks
Wakko packs away the snacks
While Bill Clinton plays the sax
We're Animaniacs

Meet Pinky and the Brain who want to rule the universe
Good Feathers flock together, Slappy whacks 'em with her purse
Buttons chases Mindy while Rita sings a verse
The writers flipped we have no script why bother to rehearse"

Chase managed to grab his towel and wrap it around his waist as he ran from the bathroom. The walls in his apartment were thin, and House's voice was loud. His neighbors were sure to be wondering what in heaven's name was going on. Now if only he could find his phone... The walkabout phone wasn't in its stand, or the table. Damn, where did he put it?

"We're animaniacs
We have pay or play contracts
We're zany to the max
There's baloney in our snacks
We're animany
Totally insaney
Here's the shows name-y [changes from time to time]

Animaniacs
Those are the facts!

And the facts are that you are so banished to clinic if you are not here in ten minutes. We want our coffee. Oh and your new name is Dot. Yakko and Wakko are sitting in the confence room already. Can you believe they didn't appreciate their new names? You better be more thankful. It could always have been worse."

Chase found the phone and quickly answered it. But House had already hung up.

"Damnit" He cursed to no one. He wouldn't be able to make to the hospital in time. His hair was still full of shampoo, and he lived fifteen minutes away. Well if he hurried, maybe House would be more lenient on him.

Who was he kidding? It was House.

MDMDMDMDMDMDMDMDMD

"House? You're... early?"

House looked at Wilson in surprise. "So are you."

"Did you forget it was daylight savings time? We were supposed to set our clocks back an hour today."

"Nope. I made a special reminder to myself. Did you forget?"

"No. I wanted to get some paper work done. But I thought I heard singing coming from your office."

"All work and no play makes James a dull boy. Tell me when you see blood gushing from elevators and mysterious twins in the hallways. I need to hide the fire ax."

"Funny. Really why are you here early? I think you forgot about daylight savings time."

"I didn't forget. I had plans. It involves this hot blonde, and we were-"

"-I'm leaving. I can get the hint." Wilson held up his hands. He went to the door and turned around. "Its no bad thing if you forgot."

"I didn't forget!" House yelled at the retreating back of his so called friend. Wilson will pay. House snickered to himself. He knew his ducklings and knew them well. "But I know someone who did."

MDMDMDMDMDMDMDMDMD

Chase was greatful that there weren't a lot of cars on the road. he was making great time. He'd still be late, according to House, but only by five minutes. The light turned green and he started into the intersection.

Suddenly there was a blaring horn. A screech of brakes. A crash. And everything went black.

MDMDMDMDMDMDMD

It was now 6:00. Chase should have been there ten minutes ago if he'd fallen for House's trick. House was disappointed, maybe the dumb wombat had remebered daylight savings and set his clocks right. Ducklings were no fun if they were smart. Dumb Chase, made him wake up early for nothing.

He'll go complain to Wilson.

MDMDMDMDMDMDMD

"Dr. House."

House broke off from his conversation with Wilson to turn and see Nurse Brenda, looking more terse than usual. It was now 6:30. "Nurse Brenda. Did Cuddles send you up here to scare me into the clinic?"

She pursed her lips. "I came to inform you that there was a car accident at 5:45."

"...and I care because? I'm not trained in critical care, Chase is-"

"Yes. Dr. House, Dr. Chase is trained in intensive care, he is in the ER."

"Well then I think that-"

"As the patient. The nurses just couldn't figure out why he was on the road towards the hospital at 5:45. There wasn't any emergency at the hospital, and he wasn't due until 7."

"And you think I know."

"I don't make assumptions Dr. House. He'll be in surgery soon by the way." She gave him a sharp look and left Wilson's office.

House stared at the door as it closed behind her. Wilson watched his friend worriedly. House had come into his office to complain about the Australian fellow not falling for his prank.

"House, there was no way you could have-"

House, ignoring Wilson, got up and left the office.

MDMDMDMDMDMDMDMD

"Ah, Dr. House. We were about to call you."

House frowned at the ER doctor who was currently blocking him from going to his injured fellow. "I'm psychic that way. Speaking of ways, get out of mine."

The doctor didn't move. "Dr. Chase had listed you as his medical proxy. He is still currently incapacitated, unconsious. We need you to make a decision."

The news shocked House. "I'm his proxy? Why would the idiot sign me as his proxy?"

The doctor shrugged nonchalantly, he knew about House and had wondered the same thing, "Past head trauma? Or he trusts you. Now about his condition."

"Let me see his charts."

The doctor looked surprised.

"I'm a doctor too. I want to see his charts before you start asking me to make decisions."

The doctor reluctantly handed over the charts. "He was lucky. Little internal damage, some brusing, but nothing serious. Some head trauma, but no brain damage, that we can tell so far. Its his leg. It was crushed in the accident, major tissue, muscle, nerve and bone damage. The damage is so extensive it may be the best choice to amputate."

"Amputate? This isn't the Middle Ages. We don't cut off limbs every time the patient gets a boil."

"This is much more than a boil Dr. House. Even if we were able to save his leg, there is no way we would be able to fix all the damage, he wouldn't have full use of the limb, and he will be in intense pain for the rest of his life. I think you of all people should understand that that is not really a viable option."

"Can you save the leg?"

"We don't know. The damage is severe. But even if we could, Dr. House the pain Dr. Chase would be in after-"

"I know about pain!" House snapped at the doctor. "And I know Chase. He knows all about pain. He can handle it. He wouldn't forgive me if I just let you lop off limbs left and right. Save the damn leg."

MDMDMDMDMDMDMDMD

"House!" Cuddy came into the operating viewing room. "House, I just heard about Chase. Do you know what happened?"

House didn't turn around, his eyes glued to the surgery below him. "Chase was an idiot, got in a crash."

"How bad was it?"

"It could have been worse. He'll live."

"How long will he be in surgery?"

"Seven, eight hours."

"Seven hours? I thought you said-"

"Major reconstructive surgery on his leg. They were going to chop it off. Luckly Chase listed an idiot as his proxy who didn't trust the doctors."

"Who-?"

"Me." House handed Cuddy his copy of Chase's charts. "I'm going to get some coffee."

Cuddy glanced over the papers. "House, the damage to his leg... they won't be able to fix all that."

House was leaving the room already. "I know."

Cuddy followed him. "He'll be crippled."

"But he'll have his leg." They were walking down the hallway, Cuddy having to trot slightly to keep up.

"He'll be in chronic pain."

"But he'll have his leg."

"He'll be like you. House how could you do that to him?"

"He'll have his leg."

"Damn the leg. He'll be in terrible pain. You know how that is. You know how hard that is to deal with." She hurried ahead and stopped in front of him

"Chase can handle pain. He's dealt with worse before. At least he'll have his leg." He kept walking, brushing against her shoulder.

"House" House finally stopped and wheeled around.

"I made the choice I would have wanted someone else to make if it was me. What would you want if it was you?" He turned back around and stormed off.

MDMDMDMDMDMD

"Miller's Amish Farm. Sorry we don't have a phone." House hung up the phone. He kept tossing his tennis ball against the wall. Foreman and Cameron just rolled their eyes.

The phone started ringing again immediatly. House picked up the phone but was cut off before he could be witty again.

"House. Its Cuddy."

"Cuddles, what a pleasure to hear your lovely voice."

"Chase is out of surgery, he'll be waking up soon if you want to come down."

House was gone before she finished her sentence.

MDMDMDMDMDMD

Chase felt incredibly heavy, even his eyelids felt heavy. It took considerable effort to open them, and when he finally did he shut them again immediately, the light hurt.

He could feel again, thin blankets, a hard matress. He knew he was in a hospital, only a hospital had such uncomfortable bedding. That meant he was still alive. And House was going to kill him.

Crap! House was going to kill him.

He forced his eyelids open again. House was sitting by his bedside watching him intently.

He closed his eyes. He mumbled under his breath.

"What did you say?" House leaned in close.

"I said, you didn't wait long."

"Wait long for what?" What was Chase talking about? House felt like he had been waiting forever.

"To kill me. Please, do me this one favor, make it quick. You can use my pillow."

"What are you talking about?" House felt mystified. He didn't like feeling mystified. People didn't generally volunteer their pillows for the tool of their murder first thing after they wake up.

"I'm not in trouble?" Chase looked slightly relieved

Chase is definitely completely screwed up, House decided. He is in a car crash, and the first thing he thinks is that he is in trouble? Can some one say Daddy issues? Freud would love this guy. "Yes. You are in huge trouble. But why would I kill you when you made me in charge of saving you?"

"What?" Chase pulled himself into a sitting position.

"You made me your medical proxy."

"Oh. Right."

"Oh, right, That's it? Why would you do that? I missed General Hospital because I had to go make sure the surgeons were sober enough to keep you alive. Now I'll never find out who the Text Message Killer goes after next, or if Emily Quartermaine gets together with Sonny Corinthos."

"m'sorry."

"You're sorry?"

"When I filled out the forms, I'd just moved to the States, I didn't know anyone. So I put your name. I'd always planned on changing it. I just never got around to it."

"You should have changed it before you got into that stupid crash."

"I hadn't planned on getting in a crash! I don't even know how I got into the crash, I guess I wasn't paying enough attention, I was worried about being late, and..."

House hung his head, damn Chase for bringing that up."You weren't exactly late."

"I know officially I wasn't, but if everyone else was there... I don't even know how I overslept..."

"You didn't really oversleep."

"It was 6:35. I'm usually up by 6:00."

"By the way today is Daylight Savings. Move your clocks back an hour."

"What?"

"It was 5:35."

"5:35? But y-you called... you were singing Spongebob. Y-you... you tricked me."

"Sorry?" House tried to look some what apologetic, but failed miserably.

Chase seemed to think about it for a while, then he chuckled. "It would have been funny."

"Funny? You almost died."

"I would have been so mad when I found out. It would have been pretty hilarious"

"Emphasis on you almost died."

"So I no longer feel bad about leaving you as my medical proxy. Serves you right."

"So you consider the proxy thing revenge for tricking you into coming to work an hour early?"

"Yup. It would have been funnier if I had actually died. You would have felt really guilty then."

"You are so messed up."

"Blame the morphine."

"What makes you think I feel guilty in the first place?"

"You're still here."

"You made me your medical proxy."

"Oh... I see. You wouldn't be so hung up on this if they didn't make you a big life and death decision about me while I was incapacitated. I'm still alive, so I guess you made the right choice."

"It wasn't that kind of decision."

Chase quirked his head to the side. "What other type of decision is there?"

"Types that I, *I* shouldn't have to make. You would have lived, no matter what I chose."

"I already said I'm sorry. I'd planned on changing the papers."

"But you didn't. How do you feel?"

"Like I've been run over by a truck, but put on a blissfully high dose of morphine."

"It was a Yukon. You're tiny import of a car did little for you. You should have bought a car with a bit more muscle."

"My car got good gas mileage."

"Oh, so then its alright. If you hit anything bigger than a lunchbox you would have died, but you were saving a bundle."

"It was practical. How is the other driver?"

"He's a lot more sober than when you had your little run in. He checked out pretty soon after you were brought in. He had a real car, not like yours."

"Again, the car was practical, I wasn't planning on having a 'little run in' with a huge American gas guzzling tank."

"You don't plan on those sorts of things. Thats why you prepare for it, just in case."

"So...how am I?"

"Isn't that the question I should ask you? I'm the doctor, you're the patient."

"You know what I mean."

"You were lucky. Minimal trauma and internal damage."

Chase sighed with relief.

"Your leg on the other hand went through hell." House handed Chase his charts.

Chase read through them, and frowned. "So this is why you were upset about being my proxy?"

"If I hadn't been distracted by this, I could have been abusing my powers while you were unconsious, how would you feel about being a C-cup?"

"They wouldn't let you do that, the nurses wouldn't like having competition for Wilson." Chase replied without looking up from the papers "So...I see they managed to save my leg, with the damage I assume that they would have wanted to cut it off instead."

"They did want to cut it off. I didn't think that was something you would want."

"No. It isn't." Chase paused, thinking "What now? Physical therepy?"

"You are still being awfully calm for someone who found out their leg was almost cut off."

"Blame the morphine."

"You have now been given the gift of a lifetime of crippledness and chronic pain. These" He pulled out his vicodin bottle and shook it, "will be your newest and bestest friend. On the plus side Cameron will find you completly and utterly irrisistable now."

"Joy." Chase grimanced. "That makes everything better."

"You should probably get some sleep now."

"I don't want to sleep."

"See, thats the great thing about morphine," House leaned over to Chase's morphine pump. "I push this little button, and you will go to sleep. Watch."

"House, don't play with that." Chase warned.

House pushed the button. His face had that classical 'Oops' expression.

"House...I'm serious, you didn't..." Chase felt his lids get heavy. "You did... Damnit...House..." Chase was asleep.

He looked extremely vulnerable sleeping. House adjusted his blankets, and brushed a few stray strands of hair from the young doctor's face. He then quickly glanced around to make sure no one had seen his display of affection.

MDMDMDMDMD

"Crap. Crap crap crapcrapcrap..." Chase squeezed his eyes closed against the pain. "Damnit!"

The wave of pain finally passed an Chase felt it was safe to open his eyes. Today was supposed to be his first day back to work. His pain had just barely reached manageable levels. Today was going to be fun

The first few days of his recovery, after he had been discharged from the hospital, consisted of staying in bed, trying to get out of bed, cursing in pain, giving up on getting out of bed, rinse and repeat. By the fourth day hunger had driven him to finally force himself to the kitchen.

Since then he had been able to deal with the pain, though in the mornings it was still almost unbearable. The slightest movement of his leg pulled on the damaged muscles under the cast, leaving him in the position he was in now. Sitting on the edge of his bed cursing.

Dealing with the pain would have been easier if he would just take the pain medication his doctors had given him. But he had seen what the pills had done to House. There was no way he was going to end up like that.

So he dealt with the pain, with out help.

There was another reason he refused to take the pills. The pills were another shackle that came with his injury. The doctors had already told him that the pain was permenant, so the pills would be too. But if he could get over the pain without the pills he would be able to maintain that small bit of freedom.

Another wave of pain. "Fuck. fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck." Chase squeezed his eyes closed again.

Oh yes...today was going to be fun.

MDMDMDMDMDMD

"CHASE!!" A highpitched squeal greeted him as he entered the hospital lobby. He was blindsided and nearly taken out by a fast moving brunette blur. Cameron had a death grip around his waist, cutting off his air supply. This also did wonders for his leg. "We were really worried about you. How are you? How's your leg? What are you doing back so early? Didn't Cuddy give you a month off? Its only been a week. Is House making you come in?" She released him, which gave him a chance to finally breathe again, and gave him her patented Cameron-disapproving glare #127 "You shouldn't let him do that it could hurt the healing process, you should go back home. I'll take care of House."

"I'm fine, thanks Cameron. I wanted to come back early. Besides, if anything goes wrong, there really isn't a better place to be than a hospital, right?"

Cameron switched to her patented Cameron-disapproving glare #39 "Chase, you were recently in a very bad car accident, and as a doctor you should know that you shouldn't over-stress yourself."

"And as a doctor, Cameron, you should know that you shouldn't side tackle a someone with a bad leg." A patient sitting in one of the waiting chairs lowered his newspaper, revealing that it wasn't a patient, but...

"House! I-I didn't... I didn't side tackle him. I gave him a hug."

"Uh-huh, sure. just be careful with our little Aussie. I don't want to have to make his medical decisions if he gets broken again. Why don't you go hug someone who is actually dying for a while." He made a shooing motion with his hands. Cameron huffed at him. "Huff and puff all you want, you won't blow this House down, now shoo." House paused thinking, "That sounded a lot less dirty in my head."

Cameron rolled her eyes and shot a questioning glance at Chase, he shrugged. "Its okay, its easier just to do what ever he says."

"We'll talk later." She walked away.

"Think that was an empty threat?" House asked once she was gone.

"I wish."

"Are you alright? You look a little pale."

"Are you alright? You're acting like you care."

"You have yet to take me from my position of responsiblity over your life."

"I'm fine, Cameron surprised me, that's all."

"What are you taking for the pain?"

"What pain?"

"In your leg?" House looked at him like he was stupid, "And you should be in intense pain now. Cameron knocked you off balance, you streched damaged muscles, you put weight on broken bones, if you don't feel pain we're going to have to-"

"Paracetamol. I'm taking Paracetamol."Chase started making his way to the elevators.

"What?"

"Oh right, you Yanks call it something else. I'm taking... Tylenol."

House followed. "Tylenol? The stuff you take for headaches and *mild* aches?"

"Yea."

"Who are you trying to impress?"

"What?"

"Tylenol? For the damage in your leg? Who are you trying to impress? What are you trying to prove, you can handle intense pain and not be like me?"

"I'm taking extra strength."

"Oh, well then thats fine." House responded sarcastically. "Watch out for the cyanide." They waited for the elevator doors to open.

"The what?"

"You know, Chicago? 1982?"

"Not ringing any bells."

"Kids these days." House shook his head sadly as they entered the elevator "Don't appreciate history at all... Seriously, Tylenol?"

Chase looked annoyed. "Its enough."

"Then we need to check on the extent of nerve damage on your leg."

"What? Why?"

"C'mon Chase, you're a doctor. And while your country might hand out MD's in Cracker Jack boxes, you must have learned something working with me."

"What are Cracker Jacks?"

"For the love of... No getting me off topic. You are a doctor, if a patient has what should be a painful injury but is not feeling pain, that is indicative of what?"

"I do feel pain."

"Not answering the question. This isn't about you, this is about a... hypothetical patient."

"Its could indicate nerv... It could be a lot of things."

"And what do these 'things' have in common?"

"They aren't affecting me?" The doors of the elevator opened, they both exited, heading towards the confrence room.

"Funny. No. They affect the nerves. You were about to say that. So, you have the choice. Stop being macho and take some real pain medication, or go through painful nerve tests and I force you to take some real pain medication."

"I can feel pain. My leg hurts. And I feel better when I take Tylenol."

"Tests it is."

Chase stopped in front of the confrence room doors, Cameron and Foreman were inside already. "I don't need tests. I'm fine. And you can't force tests on me, I'm not a patient. "

"That can change."

"I know that's an empty threat."

"You wish."

MDMDMDMDMD

"You switched his medication?"

"He was being an idiot, I was trying to help."

"By switching his medication." Wilson leaned back in his chair. Wilson often felt like House's personal confessor. House does something immoral, he goes to Wilson, Wilson gives him advice, House ignores the advice but feels better. Like now.

"By...providing him with pain relief."

"Did it ever occur to you that Tylenol was enough for Chase's pain?"

"Sure."

"And?"

"He isn't taking Tylenol."

Wilson leaned forward, now he was curious. "What? Then what is he taking?"

"I think he isn't taking anything."

"How can he not be taking anything. And how could you know he isn't taking anything?" He leaned back again.

House leaned forward, almost conspiratorially. "See, I never said I was sucessful with switching Chase's medication. When I tried, there was no medication to switch. Not in his bag, his locker, his coat, his pants-"

Wilson jerked forward "How do you know about what is in his pants?"

House smiled, "Well I-"

"Forget I asked." Wilson shook his head.

"You should have seen his face." House waggled his eyebrows.

"I'm sure."

"So anyway, he foiled my plan to switich his medication by not having any medication."

"How dastardly cunning."

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you."

"Well I'm sure you'll come up with something."

"Already have."

"I see. Should I ask?"

"I drugged his coffee."

Wilson raised his eyebrows. "And?"

"I'm still waiting for him to drink it."

Now was Wilson's part, the giving of advice. Its the same old story, the same old song and dance. They both had their parts, it was almost scripted. "Maybe you should just leave this alone House."

Here was House's part, the rejection of advice. "But that's no fun."

"Seriously House, haven't you done enough to the kid already?"

"I'm responsible for this."

"You ab- wait what?" This was going off script, House doesn't accept responsibility for his actions, he whines and pouts and shows how it is someone elses fault, commits a felony or two in the process, come back again next week.

"I'm responisble for this."

"How are you-"

"He's in pain because of the decision I made. He'll be in pain for the rest of his life because of the decision I made."

"He was happy with the decision you made."

"But for how long?" House jumped up and began pacing Wilson's office "Being in constant pain, it gnaws away at you, it breaks you down, until there is barely anything left. If I let them cut off his leg in the first place, he'd be better by now, he'd have a cool robotic leg and he wouldn't be in pain."

"House-"

"And the idiot won't take anything for the pain, because he is terrified of addictions. His mother drank herself to death, he won't touch alcohol, he sees me and Vicodin, he won't touch pain medication. It doesn't help that he's got that catholic guilt complex going on, he'll probably figure out away to show that he deserves to be in pain." House kept up his wild pacing.

"House-"

"What I can't figure out is why he lied about taking medication in the first place. Who lies that they are taking medication? You are supposed to say you aren't taking medication. Dumb Australians do everything backwards. Even their toilets flush backwards. I was sure that the idiot could handle this, I forgot about history. Everyone forgets about history. Thats why it keeps repeating, over and over and over again. Thats why the French keep loosing World Wars." Wilson was starting to get dizzy watching House pace, back and forth like a caged animal.

"House-"

"I need to fix this, I can't let him catholic guilt himself into just taking the pain. Sure, he'll be alright now, but soon. Huh, soon it will kick in, this isn't just some ache that'll go away with time. It'll be there, and it'll get worse, and soon he'll be bitter, cynical, withdrawn, miserable, depressed, he'll be like-"

"You."

House stopped pacing and glared at Wilson.

"So drugging him will make him less like you?"

"What else do I do?" House snapped as he walked to the door. He paused when he reached the doorknob. "What else can I do?" He asked softly. He left.

MDMDMDMDMD

"We're out of coffee." Cameron moaned sadly.

"Here have mine. I haven't touched it yet." Chase motioned to his cup.

"No, I'll just go down to the cafeteria."

"Don't bother, seriously. Take mine. Its still warm."

"Thanks." Cameron took the steaming cup. She took a deep sip from it, reveling in the velvety smoothness that was coffee.

House marched into the confrence room after his talk with Wilson.

"Of all the-" House trailed off as he saw Cameron drinking from the cup of coffee he had given Chase. "Where did you get that cup?"

Cameron looked surprised, "Chase gave it to me. We were out of coffee."

House turned to Chase. "Was that the cup I gave you?"

"Uh...yeah."

"Is something wrong?" Cameron was starting to get worried.

"...Nope." House smiled cheerfully. Darn Chase. Foiled again.

At least Cameron will be amusing this afternoon.

MDMDMDMD

"Cameron, are you alright?" Foreman asked concerned.

"Of course I'm alright. I feel better than alright. Why?"

"You've been... different."

"How so?"

"You've been giggly, hyper, not like yourself." Chase tried to explain.

"I feel great. I'm fine." She smiled, and then giggled. "You guys are so silly."

Foreman came up to her and held her chin so he was looking into her eyes. She looked surprised.

"What are you doing?"

"Pupils, dilated, heart rate elevated, shallow breathing, increased body temperature."

"I'm not high." She pouted.

"I could do a tox screen. But, really Cameron. What did you take?" Foreman looked at her concerned.

"I didn't take anything. You don't need to do a tox screen Foreman." She blinked as if to clear her vision.

"Was there something you ate or drank this afternoon? You are high Cameron. If you didn't take something, someone slipped something to you."

"I didn't..."

"My coffee."

Foreman turned to Chase. "What?"

"She had my coffee. House made me that coffee. That- that bastard. He kept asking questions about it. Remember? I can't believe he would-"

"We don't know it was your coffee for sure Chase." Foreman warned.

"You should take Cameron home. She'll be fine, but we don't want Cuddy to see her like this."

"What about you?"

"I need to talk to someone."

MDMDMDMD

"You'll never believe what happened." Chase smiled, chuckling silently as he limped into House's office. All the blinds were down in the room.

When House saw Chase's bemused expression, his curiousity was instantly piqued. "Enlighten me."

Chase sat down on House's couch, paling slightly when he streched damaged muscles under the cast. "Well, Cameron was acting really weird, really giggly and well, she just wasn't herself. So, Foreman checks her out, and it turns out she's high." Chase laughed. "And then Cuddy comes in. She was showing some benefactors around the hospital. Cuddy finds out that Cameron is high at work, in front of these big wig donators. So she's embarrassed as hell. She ripped Cameron a new one and sent her packing."

House looked slightly shocked. Operation: Drug Chase, had gone very very wrong. "She what?"

"She fired Cameron. Banned her from stepping foot on hospital property again. Cuddy practically threw her out of the door. Foreman has to pack out her stuff." Chase chuckled.

"You find this amusing."

"You don't? C'mon, if Cameron didn't learn her lesson from the last time she got high don't you agree she deserves it?"

"If she took it on purpose."

Chase looked serious. "You don't think she got high on purpose? That means... some one slipped something to her. Who would do that?"

"People these days, I'll talk to Cuddy about Cameron." House got up.

"Where are you going?" Wilson asked as he entered.

"Cameron was high. Cuddy found out and fired her." Chase explained. He started to get up. It was painful to watch as he was still awkward with his crutches. House bit back the urge to offer a hand. That wouldn't do for his image. Wilson didn't have that sort of trouble.

"Here let me help you." He put out a hand to pull up the younger man.

"'m alright." Chase ignored the offered hand and pulled himself up. He looked drained when he finally gained his balance. "I've got rounds in ICU. I just stopped by to let you know about Cameron." He left the room.

Wilson frowned at House. "Cameron got fired?"

"Chase just told me."

"For being high? Do you know how she got high?"

"I might have some idea."

"How did you drug Cameron? I thought you were drugging Chase."

"She drank his coffee. It was too late when I found out."

Wilson hissed."If he finds out you tried to drug him he's going to be pissed."

"I am pissed." House and Wilson turned to see Chase leaning in the doorway.

House cocked his head at Chase. "Cameron wasn't really fired, was she?"

"Foreman took her home."

"You lied because?"

"I figured out that you drugged my coffee. I needed confirmation. Dr. Wilson. I'm dissapointed that you had a part to play in this."

Wilson gaped. "House just told me that he- I wasn't involved."

"You knew. But you didn't stop him, and you didn't tell me."

"Don't blame Wilson."

"I'm not blaming Wilson. I'm dissapointed in him. What if Cameron really had been fired? What if I had drank the coffee and I was fired? Or Foreman?"

"No one cares about Foreman. Puh-lease."

"Why would you drug my coffee? Why did you let him Wilson?"

"You aren't taking any pain medication."

"I told you I was taking-"

"You lied. You aren't taking Tylenol."

"How could you know?"

"You don't have any on you, or in your locker. If you were taking Tylenol you'd have a bottle within easy reach."

"You actually looked?"

"I was going to switch it for somthing stronger, but you, idiot that you are, didn't have anything to switch. I looked everywhere. Locker, bag, coat, pants."

"So thats why you-"

"Yup. I was checking your pant pockets."

"Wait...what exactly did you do House?" Wilson broke in.

House shook his head. "Nope, you didn't want to hear about it the first time. You don't get to hear about it now. I'll leave it up to your imagination."

Chase was anxious to get the conversation back on track. "Why is it any of your buisness if I am taking pain medication or not?"

"As your medical proxy, I have an invested intreset in keeping you healthy. You aren't dealing with pain in a healthy way, I'm trying to help."

"Not taking drugs is an unhealthy way to deal with pain?"

"Not dealing with pain is an unhealthy way to deal with pain."

"I'm dealing with the pain in my leg. In my own way. I'm happy. Leave me alone." Chase started to leave, but stopped and turned around again. "I changed the papers. You aren't my medical proxy anymore."

MDMDMDMD

Round 2 Submissions

2008-05-26T00:59:21Z

Woohoo, first one to go. Technically it's 26/5/08 already where I am, so I decided to go ahead and post my claims.

Title: I Don't Understand
Author: LadyMurha
Pairing: Chase/Cameron
Rating: PG
Summary: prompt: #2 Chase/Cameron breakup fic - and why Chase is gay or bisexual. It's hard being a woman in a relationship with a guy who is prettier and/or more attractive then you. This could explain why Cameron changed hair colors. (Slash possible).
Warnings: Nada.
Word-count: 948
Disclaimer: Not mine, I only play.
Notes: Self-beta'd.

Title: A Ticking Clock
Author: LadyMurha
Pairing: Chase/Cameron
Rating: PG
Summary: #19 "It's Wednesday," he told her. "That's the day that comes when it's not Tuesday any more.” Chase breaks up with Cameron.
Warnings: Slight references to Human Error (I think we all know what the reference is.)
Word-count: 970
Disclaimer: Not mine, I only play.
Notes: prompt: I used the prompting phrase within the fic, because it's so poetically wonderful that I couldn't resist. Beta'd by judasmalfoy.

Title: I'll Never Tell You
Author: LadyMurha
Pairing: slight House/Chase if you really squint.
Rating: PG
Summary: prompt:#140 Five things Robert Chase will never say to House.
Warnings: None.
Word-count: 758
Disclaimer: Not mine, I only play.
Notes: Self-beta'd.

...You walked away from me when I needed you...

2008-05-08T01:20:12Z

My Son, You Sleep in Clouds of Fire
By Angelfirenze

Disclaimer: See part I for the more salient points, but add movies and books to the list behind television shows. Chapter title from 'Mad Season' by Matchbox Twenty.

Summary: The tears were still coming and John felt as though his chest were being cleaved open because he knew how it felt to watch your only child in mortal danger and being unable to articulate the sheer force of the emotions running through you. He found it hard enough; he figured Greg found it nearly impossible.

chase_fest, Round One prompt #97: House is Chase's biological daddy, Chase has always known, House doesn't.

Notes: Well, this was actually difficult to write. Especially the beginning.

Part V: And Now I'm Cryin', Isn't That What You Want?

Breathe in right away...Nothin' seems to fill this place...

It was definitely the most difficult thing he'd ever experienced in his life -- cardiac arrest and muscle death be damned, watching his son begin to seize every time he regained consciousness only to be drugged yet again made Gregory House so incredibly distraught that eventually he had to betray every silent promise he'd made not to leave and retreat to the locker rooms for a shower. He sat in the stall, tears stinging his eyes as they mixed with the shower spraying down on his face. He was trying his best not to sob out loud, but he couldn't manage to completely stifle them. He opened blurry eyes and stared at the tiles around him, wondering how the hell he was going to get through the next few days if every few seconds he felt like he was having a heart attack. He wondered how his mother had gotten through the last forty-eight years and couldn't see himself doing the same. He'd woken up in the middle of the night to see his parents' empty chairs and a note from his mother explaining that they'd gone back to their hotel to get some sleep. Wilson had still been nowhere to be found, but that wasn't what was troubling House at that moment. He blinked and tears had slid down his face, nausea pooling again in his gut as a deeply unpleasant and thoroughly confusing feeling flooded his entire body. Taking a deep breath, he'd looked at Chase, who had begun to awaken only a few seconds later. The seizure started in Chase's left-hand fingers and quickly spread to the rest of his body. House had scrambled as quickly as he could out of bed and administered yet another dose each of alprazolam and diazepam, watching Chase's body cease its frantic repetitive movements and feeling his own heart beating its way out of his chest before stomping over to the phone and calling whoever was on staff that early in Neurology.

Chang was still a resident but House would be there, he figured, if he did anything stupid. They performed the electoencephalogram and added electrocardiogram well ahead of schedule, House getting that horrible sensation all over again when he found himself shaking Chase awake for...to see if his theory was correct. It was. He didn't explain to Chang where he was going or give any thought to the echo of the younger man's voice ordering another round of sedatives after the results were recorded. House could see them superimposed over the insides of his eyelids (sharp, jagged lines of erratic electrical current directly associated with a sharp fall and rise in Chase's heart rate) as he bent over the toilet in the closest men's room, feeling his eyes and viscera burning in equal measure. The echocardiogram Chang ordered afterward (the results of which now sat in a deceptively placid stack) confirmed his 'hunch' and House wanted to be sick again. He stood instead, rushing as fast as his stupid leg would allow, and didn't stop until he'd reached the shower.

...Day in, day out, my tear-stained face, pressed against the windowpane...As I search the sky desperately for rain...

He now stomped around his office, snatching one of Chase's CDs out of the 'departmental' (and here he chuckled bitterly because his and Chase's were the only ones in it) case and sticking it into his stereo with a strange violence that he couldn't wrap his head around. Something he vaguely recognized, wondering yet not why he knew the lyrics, began playing and he turned it up as loudly as he dared so early in the morning. He flung his arms around, not caring as they came into contact with shelves or the corner of his desk, yearning, wishing he could do something other than sitting on his ass while his son's brain liquefied under its own power. He was reminded and laughed morbidly at the scene in that one X-Files episode where Mulder was 'experiencing so much activity in his temporal lobe that it is effectively destroying his brain'. His mother had snapped at the physician, stating archly that there was only so much bluntness a mother can take. He wondered how much bluntness his mother has been forced to endure on his behalf and before he realizes it, he's on his back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

His father was squatting over him, concern etched into those familiar features for the first time he could remember. His father went to touch him again, but instantly reconsidered and House was more grateful than he could express. He didn't say anything, simply pulling himself back into a sitting position and hearing the silence pressing in on him. Fucking Valiums. He'd forgotten about the vertigo and the random narcoleptic effects. He hasn't had any in months and now everything feels heavy and torpid. He couldn't speak if he wanted to.

"That Dr. Chang...he said they had to -- "

House frowned and grimaced, a growl in his throat as he managed to pull himself back to the wall behind him before getting up the effort to pull his legs up toward his chest. It felt like hours, but...

John House sighed heavily and ran a hand over his crew cut, watching his son stare at the windows leading to the balcony. Greg was starting to rock back and forth, his grip on his legs tightening with each passing second. He was making a faint rumbling noise that he didn't seem aware of. Fear poured off of him so thickly John was convinced he could see it wafting in the air like heat in the desert, bending the air, rippling like water. He wished he knew what he could say to comfort Greg, but he knew it was useless so he tried something practical instead.

"Stop breathing so hard, kid, you'll faint again."

"I didn't faint and I'm not a kid," Greg snapped, his hands flying downward to grip the carpet, his fingernails scraping at the miniscule fibers over and over, the noise like someone popping muted bubblewrap. Suddenly, Greg shot up, his ascent stilted and delayed by some form of sedation, but once he'd regained his equilibrium, John watched his son sweeping slowly around his office, his arms deliberately flung every which way, uncaring as they came into contact with whatever was nearest. It wasn't until Greg knocked over his pencil cup and the contents went clattering to the floor that he froze and took a breath, staring down at the writing implements on the floor with a desperate sort of fear before falling to his knees with a sharp grunt and grabbing the cup, preparing to hurl it at the wall with every ounce of strength he had.

"Gregory!" John said sharply, instantly regretting the jerky flinch he received in response as well as Greg faltered on his bad leg and had to fling out his hands to support himself. Greg was breathing harder than ever now, his entire body heaving, and it was a moment before John realized that tears were falling into a puddle below Greg's face. He was scratching at the carpet again, a mix of languages John didn't know and two, Dutch and Swedish, that he did spat out like bullets from Greg's mouth, his tongue catching on what little Irish they each knew from one or another of Blythe and her siblings' deceased relatives, languages that had been passed along like the objects they all seemed to love so much. Giving up on spoken language, Greg sat back heavily on his backside and John watched him lapse into a flurry of signing that was far too fast for John to even make a guess at, let alone interpret. The tears were still coming and John felt as though his chest were being cleaved open because he knew how it felt to watch your only child in mortal danger and being unable to articulate the sheer force of the emotions running through you. He found it hard enough; he figured Greg found it nearly impossible.

John inched slowly over to Greg and refrained from touching his head (that would get him a blind cuff somewhere and send Greg hurtling back toward the walls as quickly as possible), instead slowly reaching for Greg's hands that he could see were scraped, bruised, and now bleeding from the banging they'd gotten earlier. He frowned slightly, asking softly -- because Greg wouldn't look him in the eyes, those blue eyes he knew so well roving over the scratches, seemingly marveled by the faint swelling and reddened tinge edging them as he flexed his hand to watch the skin split further and bleed a bit more -- for Greg to please stop that, he was hurting himself, and where did he keep his antiseptic and Band-Aids. Greg whimpered as John took hold of his hands and he bit back the urge to cry again, exhaling shakily and repeating his request.

Greg frowned and glanced back toward a large metal cabinet exactly like the one in Robert's hospital room. It was strange that John didn't remember it being there when they'd visited before. But, then again, he hadn't taken his eyes off Gregory's face, trying in vain to get his son to acknowledge his presence. He pushed that day away and concentrated on now. He knew he should probably put on gloves or something, there was probably hospital protocol or something that he should follow, but he settled for washing them at the sink in Gregory's conference room, keeping up a steady stream of commentary on how organized the whole place was -- John was surprised he'd failed to notice before, but kicked himself because when had he ever bothered to notice Gregory's efforts? -- and how it was getting to be time for breakfast and that his mother would be back soon, so they should go see if they could find her something to eat in the cafeteria. It was useless, stupid small talk -- the kind both he and Gregory ordinarily found it difficult to engage in -- but he found that if he kept talking, the silence coming from the other room wouldn't press so loudly on his ears, making him wonder when on earth Greg got this quiet and why he -- he paused and gritted his teeth.

Stop that shit, idiot, he berated himself. Why the fuck would you know how much he does or doesn't talk? You've never hung around him.

When he returned to where Greg sat in the middle of the floor in his office, he carefully stepped around Greg's stationary form and went to open the cabinet, hesitating at first to ask Greg where everything he needed was kept, but deciding he'd do what he'd made Gregory so many times and figure it the hell out, himself. He knew what the hell isoprophyl alcohol was, after all, and here there were neat stacks of wipes in sterile packages along with rolls of medical tape and bandages, as well as other objects, sealed packages with instruments and syringes that he didn't know the purpose for and didn't want to ask. There were more easily identifiable tools, a stethoscope and a blood pressure cuff, something that looked like a small antenna but with a box connected to it by coiled, insulated wire. He vaguely recognized it from the infirmary at the last base he and Blythe had been stationed at before he retired. He thought it was a thermometer, which would have made sense. Shaking his head at his own distraction he turned back to Gregory with Band-Aids, first considering taking care of Greg's wounds himself before thinking the better of it and simply handing the swabs and everything else to his son and watching as Greg passively administered his own care with a detached attention that told John he'd done this many, many times. He fleetingly hoped that it only applied to dealing with patients, but he knew that wasn't the case. Blythe had told him only the previous evening about what Lisa had said regarding some months earlier when Greg had been unable to urinate for several days, had been forced to stop drinking anything because it would have over-hydrated his body -- hyper-something, another medical term that he couldn't remember if he tried -- and went to Wilson for help only to be mockingly rebuffed, told he was just taking too much Vicodin and get over it. Lisa didn't know what Greg had done, really, but she knew that one of the catheter kits had been ordered from the pharmacy not long after that.

John gritted his teeth again and wondered where the hell Wilson had been all this time. Greg was finishing positioning a butterfly Band-Aid between his thumb and forefinger and looked at the wrappers he'd strewn about within the last few moments. John watched him scowl and gather them up, crumpling them together before turning and executing something of a stationary jumpshot. The bundle of wrappers came apart at the last moment, all but one landing in the wastepaper basket. Greg frowned further, muttering, "I hate basketball," before inching up and snatching the last wrapper from the floor and slapping it into the trash can. "I hate football. I hate baseball. Betting's the only thing they're good for."

John opened his mouth to argue, but snapped it shut. He took a deep breath and got slowly to his feet, wincing at the pains in his arms and chest. Greg watched him unblinkingly before scowling yet again and snapping his fingers in his father's direction. "Take off your shirt," he ordered and John found himself taken aback. Greg took a deep breath and rolled his eyes at the ceiling before stomping forward and poking his father's side with two bandaged fingers. John hissed, flinching back and guarding, his breath now labored.

"Son of a bitch," he snarled, his eyes clamping shut.

"That's my name, don't wear it out," Greg deadpanned and John's eyes flew back open, horror suffusing his insides.

"I wasn't -- "

"Not this time, maybe. Take off your shirt." Greg's voice was brisk and business-like, but John could hear an undercurrent of strain and took a deep, shuddering breath.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, reaching up to do as Greg had ordered him. "I know you don't believe me -- why shouldn't -- "

"What the fuck did Jet do, beat you with a two-by-four?" Greg's eyes were narrowed as he examined the green and yellow-tinged masses of swollen skin adorning his father's torso like countries on the world map in the atlas he'd read as a child. "And, more to the point, why the hell did you let him do this to you?"

John felt that lump rising again in his throat and shook his head. "I...I...forty-six years..."

"You're a fucking masochist."

"Watch your mouth," John said tiredly, looking back up at the slightly thinned top of Greg's head (his hair was even greyer than John had suspected, he saw, the brown even less apparent now) as his son gently palpated the bruises, taking a moment to roll his eyes again, before examining the inflamed pink line of stitches that curled around toward John's back.

"Watch yours first, Jonathan," Greg said darkly, those blue eyes flashing in his direction again, daring him. This was the Greg he remembered, John knew, the one that raised a middle finger in greeting and some not-so-small part of him was glad to see it even if his son was being blatantly disrespectful. "These stitches will need removing in another week. I'm sure Ducky told you that, but you probably weren't listening. You shouldn't have grabbed me. You almost ripped them. They would have probably come out tomorrow if you hadn't done that."

John opened his mouth to argue but Greg cut him off. "I never asked you to catch me."

"What the hell was I supposed to do, let you fall?"

"Why not?" Greg ground out, his grip never tightening even as he continued redressing John's split-open wounds with bandages that apparently added pressure and going to smear antiseptic ointment over the stitches but flinching and stopping as John hissed again and balled his fists. John heard the unasked questions. Why didn't you catch me when I needed you to? Why start giving a damn now?

"I just couldn't," John bit out, resisting flinching again as Greg seemed to change his mind, retrieving a small pair of steel scissors from the cart and whispering, "Sorry about ruining your exemplary handiwork, Duck," before cutting the stitches apart, palpating the edges again -- seemingly satisfied by something -- and beginning to restitch the wound anew. John was mesmerized at the efficient, methodical work his son did, taking only a couple of minutes to close the wound again.

"You're an idiot," Greg muttered as he finished up, tilting his head to the side and not looking John in the eye at all. "And you let Jethro tempt rupturing one of your organs just to prove a point. As it is, you look like a paint palette for a lake or something. You're a masochist and an idiot."

John watched as Greg turned away before stripping off his latex gloves and discarding them, and chuckled despite himself. "So I've been told -- many times with varied languages and syllables -- you may not mince words, but your momma does," he said heavily, putting his shirt back on, and watched disconsolately as Greg slowly got up and went back to ignoring him.

"Where's Wilson?" he ventured after a few minutes of watching Greg wander aimlessly around, fiddling with various objects.

"I don't know. Don't care." John thought for a moment that Greg might be sulking, but the strangely thoughtful look on his face discounted that theory.

"Is..." Greg scowled again and turned away, seemingly berating himself for opening up this line of questioning, but John gripped the edge of Greg's desk and pulled himself into a standing position before sitting back on the foot rest for Greg's Eames chair.

"What?"

Greg grimaced yet again and ran a hand through his hair. John noticed (and his stomach pitched) that Greg's hands were shaking. "Is someone your friend when you don't trust them? Moreover, are they your best friend?"

John blinked, caught off-guard. Greg had never asked him for advice in his life. He seemed to think John would mock or ridicule him for it. But given his previous track-record regarding interactions with his son, John couldn't blame him. "Is this about Wilson or Lisa?"

Greg shot him a confused look. "Lisa goes along with Jimmy's lies and then I get to suffer a deluge of self-flagellation once her conscience has her back in its clutches. Her optimism is her downfall. Wilson has no such delusions -- only that he get me to be someone or something I'm not. But I keep falling for it, so why the hell shouldn't -- "

"I don't give a damn if you keep trusting him or not," John interjected, eliciting a surprised expression from his son. "He's the one abusin' that trust. He's just as bad as I am and one day, he's gonna lose you, too, and he'll deserve it just as much as I did."

Greg stopped, glancing at him before looking down and concentrating on the cane he was now twisting between his palms. "You think you lost me?"

"Should I believe different?" John's voice was fragile, actually truly heartbroken. "And, really, do I deserve to?"

Greg opened his mouth to answer before blinking and closing it, seemingly realizing he didn't know what to say.

"I let myself believe..." John said quietly, watching as Greg's body stiffened again. "That Stacy was doin' the right thing. Goin' against your wishes just as soon as you were too unconscious to say different. I wanted to believe she was right, because that meant I was right -- ignorin' what you wanted all your life just because I...I think I wanted to see ya broken. Because then it'd be like breakin' them like they did me...I did horrible things to you, Greg. That's why Leroy kicked my ass. He knew when he was eight damned years old, first day Blythe and I took ya to see him at my momma's house and he was there starin' at ya and you grabbed his hand..."

John's vision was blurred, he realized. He was crying again. "He...he said that they didn't deserve to have you named after them and you didn't deserve it, either. But I thought I knew better. Forty-six years of blaming you for the...the misdeeds of dead fuckin' assholes who can never, ever come back no matter what. I don't even know who my own son is. I never wanted to. I keep wonderin' who Wilson's tryin' to make you stand in for. Believe me, we're much more fucked up than you ever will be. You think you should be ashamed of yourself for cryin' because Robert's in all this trouble with these seizures that they can't seem to find a reason for because he's on medication -- "

"It's his heart," Greg interrupted before he could stop himself, his voice immediately dropping into some sort of lecture-mode. "Every time his brainwaves switch over from sleep to wakefulness, his brain stem is still operating his heart as though he's asleep. His brain's not getting enough oxygen and he's already got epilepsy from his idiot mother so it's really a default reaction. It occurs in people who don't have epilepsy, but they're more likely just to pass out again. His brain takes the lack of oxygen as a cue to send up a storm. I told Chang he needs a pacemaker to make sure his heart doesn't continue having these arrhythmias because all these seizures could damage his brain tissue and the central nervous system does not regenerate in anyone older than about six weeks old and even then, it's only for things like nerve grafts and is very rare. Acceptance of donor nerves in older patients is even more rare. There's only been one recorded case of someone with a donated limb being able to experience sensation. Anyway."

Greg took a breath and played with his cane for a few more moments. "I noticed that these seizures he's having now that his medication has been resumed only happen during sleep, specifically changes in his state of consciousness. Sleep is often a trigger in epilectics, but it's usually remedied by medication -- the pm dose is higher. He missed three doses -- which will never happen again," he ground out and John found himself chuckling a bit. "But they've been compensated for. They should have cessated, but they didn't, so during the EEG..."

Greg took another, deeper breath and gripped the cane so hard John heard the wood creak. "I had to start waking him up because I needed to confirm my theory. I roused him and he immediately began seizing. They're connected. The surgery's scheduled for tomorrow morning."

"You had to -- "

"I had to?" Greg burst out, his breath quickening again and John got to his feet, coming and standing directly in front of his son, who unconsciously assumed the 'at attention' stance before his right leg buckled slightly.

John sighed, "Parade rest, Gregory. Yes, you had to. You needed to help Robert and that was the only way to do it. This is why you said ya couldn't treat your momma or me. You're thinkin' too much about what we'll think. I'm damned sure that Robert of all people, who's watched you work and worked with you for four years, knows why you do what you do. He trusts ya or he never would have let ya tell Dr. Chang to knock him out, seizures or no. He knows you'll take care of it. It's all you've ever done."

Greg let out a shuddering breath. "I had a choice -- "

"No, you didn't. Not if you wanted to help him. You did the right thing, Greg. The only thing you could do."

John House will never forget the painfully astonished look on his son's face afterward. It's the first time either can remember that Greg let his father hug him.

...This is for everybody who carries the world's weight, but stands up straight -- put a hand up, try to relate...

...TBC...

part one, part two, part three, part four

x-posted to housefic, patris_filli, and my journal

chase_fest: CLAIMS CLOSING IN 3 DAYS!

2008-04-15T05:34:47Z

The original closing date for Round #2 claiming was 13th April, however the mod was out of action at that point, so we are extending the claims until this Friday.

LAST CHANCE FOR LAST MINUTE CLAIMS!

If you haven't alread done so and would like to claim some prompts for Round #2 of chase_fest, please visit THIS POST to stake your claims by FRIDAY 18TH APRIL.