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Chase yawned from his seat at the table, not even attempting to stifle it. He had been doing so before, but as the minutes turned into hours and the people in the office decreased by half, he didn’t feel as compelled to hide his fatigue. House was a smart man, he would be the only person Chase was hiding his tiredness from and he had already put the pieces together that his Australian fellow was sleepy.
Chase didn’t have difficulty staying up late. He was in the medical field, it literally came with the job description. He prided himself in his productivity during all hours of the day and night. He never found he needed much sleep to function, a cup of coffee or two and he was set to work for as long as was required of him.
Lately, that wasn’t holding true.
Logically, he knew why. He hadn’t been eating nearly enough for the past several months and his poor eating habits had gotten noticeably worse in recent weeks, enough for Chase himself to admit that there was a problem.
It wasn’t like he was starving himself on purpose. He’d had a strange relationship with food since he was a teenager, but he was able to recognize that his habits had been spiraling out of control since his father had died.
It started off inconspicuous. One night he wasn’t feeling well and as was meant to be done, he stuck to small amounts of bland, simple foods for the next few days while things settled.
But when he tried reintroducing old foods, he couldn’t bring himself to.
He remembered packing a salad for lunch one day, taking it out of the fridge when the time came, and taking one bite before his heart dropped and every muscle in his body tensed, rejecting the food he’d put in his mouth.
It was the same struggle with the majority of the foods Chase used to enjoy. He knew there wasn’t anything wrong with them, but whenever he’d try to just push through it and eat what seemed so daunting, he physically couldn’t. His body would do whatever it could to ensure Chase knew there was something wrong with the food and he wasn’t going to be eating that. It ranged from intense feelings of anxiety while chewing to gagging to the point of dry heaving to prevent swallowing.
Those reactions started becoming anticipatory as well. After a poor reaction to grapes, the next day, he felt nauseous at the sight of someone else eating them. His heart would race and he’d have to remind himself how to breathe when he saw a food his body deemed unsafe.
In the beginning, it felt random, like there was no pattern to what Chase could and couldn’t eat and that was terrifying. He’d have no idea if his body was going to have a negative reaction to a food until he tried it, which ultimately led to avoiding most new foods as well as becoming wracked with anxiety anytime eating was about to happen.
Later on, Chase was getting the hang of the way his mind viewed food. He found patterns in what was safe and what wasn’t, even if there wasn’t much logic around it. Bread was safe, butter wasn’t. Bananas were safe, blueberries weren’t. Pasta, broccoli, turkey, granola bars, Cheerios, and coffee were all safe. Seafood, apples, lettuce, beef, strawberries, fruit juices, and deep fried foods were not safe.
He knew what to avoid and what he could rely on. He knew that bananas could be eaten anywhere, but pasta was just for at home. He knew salmon was okay if he was having a good day and he prepared it himself, but if anything had been making him feel anxious lately or if it was prepared by someone else, salmon was off the table.
He knew how to keep himself safe and sane. He knew how to get through days feeling as full as he could while avoiding borderline panic attacks. (He was trying to be nice by accepting the cinnamon muffins a new nurse had made that everyone was raving about, but if he knew he would spend the entire day nauseous and with a heart rate faster than a kitten’s, he would’ve skipped it.)
Of course, lately his system was being tested. Foods that were safe suddenly were making him gag. Situations he was fine eating in were becoming threatening. He never found it easy to eat in the cafeteria, but now even the conference room wasn’t safe. And the only person he still felt comfortable eating around was House. In recent weeks he hadn’t been able to enjoy lunch with Foreman and Cameron like he used to. Even his safest foods couldn’t last through the challenge of eating in front of his coworkers.
Needless to say, Chase was freefalling toward rock bottom and he knew it. He just didn’t know what to do.
Chase’s thoughts were interrupted by yet another yawn. After his eyes had reopened, he stared down at the paperwork he was meant to be working on. He hadn’t made any progress in the past ten minutes.
Chase sighed and leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms up above his head. His legs felt numb from the hours of sitting they’d endured, but he was worried standing would make him feel more dizzy than he already did.
“Oh, shit,” House mumbled from his desk. Chase, startled, spun to face him. House was staring at a piece of paper, eyes scanning it as if he was confirming what he’d just read.
“What’s wrong?” Chase asked, feeling his heart pound from the small scare.
“Cuddy has been reminding me for weeks to get our check ups done and I haven’t yet,” House admitted, voice gravelly from lack of use.
“When did she want them?” Chase asked, not very hopeful.
House looked up and met his fellow’s eyes, “today.”
Chase nodded, trying to gauge how distressed his boss really was. He went against Cuddy frequently without a care, but his reaction to remembering the news seemed contrary to his usual attitude surrounding disobedience.
“How bad is it?” Chase asked, hopeful this time.
“Not too bad, but I like to be careful about how often I rebel against Cuddy,” House revealed with a shrug.
“No you don’t,” Chase retorted.
“No I don’t.” House agreed.
“But y’know what,” House said after a beat.
“What?” Chase did not like where this was going.
“You and the other ducklings haven’t had your checkups in over a year now. You should get those done, don’t you think?” House suggested, a twinkle in his eye. Chase swallowed thickly.
“Just tell me what you’re planning, House.” Chase groaned.
House rolled his eyes. “You’re no fun! I was trying to build suspense.” Chase raised an eyebrow, physically tired and a little tired of House’s shit.
“But fine, why don’t we just get them over with now?” That was what he had been scheming.
Chase looked around. “Foreman and Cameron aren’t here.”
House kept hold of the paper and stood up with a hand on his thigh in an attempt to keep it as still as possible. “But you are.”
Chase felt dread wash over him. “What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting we go do your check up right now. There'll be a free exam room somewhere,” House began walking toward the door. He didn’t look back, expecting Chase to follow, which he did. Chase felt like his body was moving on autopilot. Consciously, he didn’t want to have a check up done at the hands of House, but his body seemed to have a mind of its own these days.
“What do you mean we?” Chase asked with a lump in his throat.
“Me and you, obviously.”
“I don’t want to do this, House.”
“You’re following me already, if you were that opposed, you wouldn’t be.”
Chase didn’t have a retort. He wasn’t sure why he was getting so worked up, but he assumed anyone would be at the prospect of their boss giving them a full medical exam. No matter the reason or the logic behind it, his heart was beginning to pound and the way his breathing was picking up was causing the lightheadedness he’d gained from leaving his chair to intensify.
Eventually, like House predicted, they found an empty exam room. House ushered Chase in first and followed in behind him, staring at the paper he was holding.
“Shit, I forgot a clipboard,” House cursed while closing the door behind him.
Chase couldn’t hear. His ears were ringing and he wasn’t sure if it was due to the dizziness or the anxiety coursing through his veins. He shook his hands at his sides with a deep breath, hoping to get rid of some of his nervousness.
If House noticed this behaviour, he didn’t comment, only instructed Chase to take a seat on the exam table. It wasn’t necessary, so Chase wondered if House noticed the way he was swaying on his feet. Either way, he was happy for the excuse to sit.
House started by asking him a few routine questions straight from the document. Chase was barely focused the entire time. He wasn’t confident that he didn’t accidentally lie a few times throughout the questioning.
“Shoes off, time to see how short you really are.” House instructed.
Milking the moments sitting down, Chase stayed seated while he removed his shoes. “I’m not that short.”
House didn’t make any sort of remark, only gestured toward the wall with measurements marked on it.
“Five foot ten,” House revealed. It was Chase’s turn not to comment. Standing up had earned him fuzziness around the edges of his vision.
“Alright, scale time, kid.” House announced, starting to walk over to the scale.
Chase felt ice in his veins. He was frozen on the spot. He hadn’t considered he would have to weigh himself as part of the examination. On account of the decreased food intake over the past few months, especially weeks, his brain hadn’t been operating on the highest level. Maybe that’s what his body had been warning him about. Funny how his body was now smarter than his brain. It couldn’t think yet it knew there was a scale waiting for it when Chase’s brain couldn’t even figure that out. Chase had thought his body was playing some sort of cruel prank on him when he started feeling anxious at the suggestion of the check up, but it was really giving him a warning of scary scales approaching.
House turned from his spot at the scale to face Chase, still leaning against the ruler on the wall. His lips were slightly parted and in the quiet of the room, House could hear tiny, rapid breaths coming from his fellow.
“What’s wrong?” House asked, eyes narrowed.
Chase clasped his hands together, feeling them begin to shake. He just shrugged, not knowing what to say and not trusting his voice either.
“Kid, we’re almost done, just step on the scale.” House encouraged uncharacteristically softly.
Chase shook his head. The motion was enough to worsen his dizziness and he felt himself sway. He brought a hand to his head as his vision swam further.
House hurried to Chase’s side, placing a hand on the younger man’s upper arm and guiding him back toward the exam table. House got Chase sat down without a fuss, his body instinctively leaning against House’s hand as he grew more lightheaded.
“What’s wrong?” House asked, a hint of worry in his voice.
“I don’t feel good,” Chase muttered. He could feel himself shaking. His heart beat rapidly against his ribs. The pace of his breaths was too quick to keep up with. He tried to take a deep breath, but it felt like his chest was constricted, not allowing enough air to enter.
“Probably because you’re breathing way too fast. How do you feel?” House prompted urgently.
Chase felt tears building in his eyes. He suddenly felt a large pressure on his chest, constricting his lungs further and making it even more difficult to breathe. He felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him.
“I- I can’t breathe, House,” Chase choked out. He looked up to meet the older man’s eyes, unable to stop a few tears from escaping. He couldn’t make out House’s facial features on account of the tears and the way his vision blurred.
“Take it slow, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” House assured, voice more steady. He seemed to be becoming more content with the situation. Hopefully it was enough to compensate for Chase’s complete lack of control.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” Chase shook his head, still holding eye contact with his boss.
All he could feel was scared. Logically, he knew he was panicking, but the logical part of his brain didn’t work while he was anxious, especially when this far gone. It was easy to curse himself out in hindsight, wondering why he didn’t just think things through, but in the moment he wasn’t able to access the part of his brain that applied reasoning to the world around him. All he knew in the moment was he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see, he was scared and confused as fuck, and his boss was witnessing all of it.
“You don’t have to. Trust me, nothing bad is going to happen. Not under my watch,” House assured. He dropped his cane and placed his now free hand on Chase’s other arm, squeezing tightly.
Chase nodded and reached up, placing his own hands on House’s biceps and applying the same amount of pressure as House was applying to his. The pressure on his own arms and House’s beneath his hands was helping to ground Chase, but it still wasn’t enough. His breaths were still coming in short, shallow gasps and he had a buzzing beneath his skin he couldn’t get rid of.
“Replicate how much pressure I’m applying to your arms, okay?” House prompted. Chase took as deep of a breath as he could manage as he jerkily nodded. His chest protested at the influx of air.
House began to slowly change the amount of pressure he was exuding on Chase’s arms. He slowly relaxed and Chase copied, hands shaky. He suddenly squeezed hard and Chase did the same, breaths still hitching.
“Keep going,” House encouraged. Chase nodded, tears rolling down his cheeks.
They continued for the next five or so minutes until Chase was breathing at a more regular pace and was able to drop his hands away from House’s arms. He looked away from his boss, feeling a flush spread across his cheeks as he slowly inhaled and exhaled. House let go when Chase did, eyes looking him up and down.
“How’re you feeling?” House asked as he slowly bent down to retrieve his cane.
Chase shrugged. He glanced toward the scale before looking toward the floor in front of him.
“Dizzy, tired, and humiliated,” He attempted to joke, huffing out a short laugh. House didn’t laugh, though Chase couldn’t bring himself to look up and see his reaction.
“Was the scale not very nice to you growing up? Why’d that send you into a panic fit?” House asked gruffly. His tone was distinctly House, dripping with curiosity. Though the question was driven by a desire to know Chase’s answer, there was a strange undertone of care that Chase wasn’t used to hearing in House’s timbre, especially directed toward him.
“I don’t know,” Chase admitted. He could feel his eyes drooping, fatigue settling in. “I just… you mentioned it and I freaked out? I was already anxious before we walked in here and I didn’t even know why, then you mentioned the scale and I suddenly got crazy anxious and I don't know, I just freaked out.” Chase looked up toward House at the end of his ramble, cheeks red hot and shoulders hunched.
House nodded, face soft and neutral.
“Hop on, let’s find out.” House suggested with the slightest of smirks.
Chase felt the knot of anxiety in his chest, though it didn’t stop him from sliding off of the exam table and slowly walking toward the scale. His vision began to tunnel as he approached, though he was unsure if it was from anxiety or just from the lightheadedness he’d been experiencing for ages now.
He stepped up onto the scale carefully. House hovered beside him, observing with comparable care.
Chase watched alongside House as the number climbed.
“119.7 pounds,” House mumbled. Chase turned to him, noticing the way House’s brows were pinched together and he had a look of disbelief in his eyes.
“Get off,” House instructed firmly without looking at Chase. He nodded numbly, stepping off of the scale.
Last Chase had measured, he had been around 160 pounds if his memory served him correctly.
“Step back up,” House instructed quietly. He leaned in closer toward where the number would be read.
Chase stepped back up and watched the number climb then stop again at the same number.
“It’s the same,” Chase confirmed quietly. He stepped off the scale and walked over to where his shoes had been abandoned. He slid his shoes on quickly and stood up slowly to try and prevent excess dizziness.
“Chase,” House prompted.
“Was that all you needed?” Chase asked. After all the fear and panic and confusion, now he felt angry. Angry and embarrassed. He wasn’t sure what he was angry with, but it was enough to cause a stir in his chest and an urge to vacate the room.
“Is that why you didn’t want to weigh yourself?” House asked. Chase faltered for a moment, but started walking toward the exam room door without acknowledging House.
“You starving yourself?” House asked, harsher this time. Chase took a deep breath, pausing at the exam room door.
“It makes sense. You’re dizzy, you’ve been excessively fatigued, excessive weight loss, you didn’t want to weigh yourself, hell, maybe you knew how much you weighed already.” House accused as Chase turned the door handle.
He didn’t open it, though. He turned back to face House, eyes brimming with tears again.
“I didn’t know how much I weighed, okay? I didn’t want to know,” Chase spat out. The anger in his chest was getting thrown toward House but surprisingly, House didn’t match his energy.
“Why not? Didn’t want to see how severely you’re damaging your body?” House spoke clearly yet softly, oddly gentle.
“I’m not talking about this with you,” Chase insisted. He remained glued to the spot.
“Yet you’re not leaving.” House pointed out, gesturing with a nod of the head.
Chase didn’t reply. He wanted to leave, he wanted more than anything to leave, but his legs wouldn’t cooperate. His body seemed to have a vendetta against him, keeping him cemented in place.
“Why are you starving yourself?” House asked.
“How do you know I am?” Chase retorted.
“I’m not that oblivious, Chase. I pick up on things. You barely eat anymore and when you do, you eat the same, unsustainable foods. I haven’t seen you eat anything but plain white bread and bananas in at least a month and you haven’t been going to eat with Cameron and Foreman like you used to in weeks. And not to repeat myself, but you’re fatigued and light headed and also the brain fog. Not to mention how you reacted to my initial assumption that you were starving yourself. You didn’t deny it, you all but confirmed it.
“You’re running yourself dry. You’re a doctor, you know how this works. You know where this ends. You know how dire your situation is and I know you do because you’re still standing here listening to me.”
Chase stared silently as House finished his rant. He blinked away the tears in his eyes, not caring if House noticed them anymore.
“I’m not starving myself,” Chase whispered.
“Bullshit,” House countered.
“I’m not trying to starve myself,” Chase corrected, louder and voice cracking.
House stayed silent. Chase looked up to meet his eyes. House nodded, prompting him to continue.
“I can’t explain it, I’ll sound crazy,” Chase wiped his eyes with his sleeve.
“Try me,” House muttered.
“I know how bad things are getting,” Chase deflected, “I know I can’t keep going like this but I’ve been getting worse for months now and I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” Chase started turning to face the door again, but House limped over to him as quickly as he could and placed a hand on his shoulder. Chase startled and turned to face his boss, tears in his eyes.
“You’re telling me because you’re scared,” House offered. “Not sure why you trust me, but we’ll work this out.”
Chase shook his head. The anger in his chest had morphed into shame. Tears rolled down his cheeks again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get anyone involved,”
“I’m getting myself involved. You’re a damn good doctor and I need you operating at your peak. If it takes time and effort to get there, so be it. Unfortunately, I don’t want you to die.” House looked solemn, staring directly into Chase’s teary eyes.
Chase nodded. He didn’t register he nodded until he did.
“I’ll give you a ride home. You’re not driving like this,” House insisted, voice gruff. He opened the exam room door and limped out into the hallway. Chase automatically followed.
Logically, he had several doubts, but his body seemed to know a thing or two so Chase decided he was going to trust he was doing something right if his body felt as calm as it did.