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Chase got into the plane, limping a bit.
Probably getting discharged from the hospital prematurely wasn't such a great idea. Getting on an over 20-hour flight right after was probably even more stupid. But he was just so...
disappointed.
He didn't know exactly what he had expected. Not his father being suddenly warm and fuzzy, that's for sure, but... he definitely hadn't expected... that either.
When his stepmother called him, at first he was just confused.
"What? Leukaemia? But— It's— It's impossible... He was just in New Jersey two weeks ago... He seemed completely fine..."
Then the other emotions hit.
Self-doubt. Maybe he had missed some symptoms?
Guilt. How could he not have noticed that his father was dying?
Panic. His father was dying.
His father was dying.
Then another one.
Desperation. He had to do something. Stop the clock somehow.
Everything happened so fast then. The HLA typing to confirm the match. The constant phone calls to Melbourne hospitals and father. Then plans. Booking the flights.
Then taking time off work. That was the worst part.
"You are not taking a whole week off in the middle of the case!"
"Yes, I am, I haven't taken a single day off this year, I have every right!"
"If you take a week off in the middle of a case, at least give me a reason! Otherwise, you're fired!" House threatened, obviously not really meaning it.
"I guess I'm fired then" Chase huffed before leaving the office.
He flew to Melbourne as fast as possible. And at first, it all looked so... promising. The way his father's face lit up the second he saw him walk into the hospital room. It was like suddenly he was... interested in being his father. He kept talking to him all the time while they were both going through all the necessary tests and preparation. For the first time ever he seemed actually interested in his life, in him...
"We should spend some time after it's all done. Just the two of us." his father said one day.
"I... I can't. I only have one week off." Chase said hesitantly.
"Then take more. Come on, stay in Oz longer. Weeks. Or maybe months. We could make up for all those years we've lost—"
"You mean you've lost" Chase interrupted. "And I can't. If I stayed here for months, I'd definitely have nothing to come back to in the PPTH" he pointed out.
"So what? You could move in here. We could even work together, son and father, think about it..."
Chase couldn't help but feel intrigued by the idea. No, not intrigued, that was an understatement. He was drawn to it, just like a moth is drawn to the light. It was like, after growing up with emotional starvation, he was suddenly being fed with all the affection he could consume. And he was sooo starved.
"I... I'll think about it... I like working for House" he said, reminding himself to stay cautious.
A moth that craves the light that much can easily get burned by the fire.
Besides, all that sudden warmth and sweetness were making him feel trapped and even more nauseous than the G-CSF he was being treated with.
But even though it felt like a trap, he couldn't help but feel hope.
And not so long after the transplant, the light was off again, the warmth gone, leaving Chase feeling even colder than he had felt before.
It started subtly. His father started going a bit distant again, focused on his current family from the second he woke up. When Chase started mentioning the previous plans, his father was suddenly very vague.
"We'll think about it"
Then, the straw that broke the camel's back. His father's wife asking for him to be moved to a single room, because 'he was tired'. And his father didn't protest.
Neither did Chase. He knew better than to fight for something that was never his.
He got himself discharged the moment he was able to get up.
He needed to run away. From the bitter taste of disappointment. And from the sourness of shame. How could he have been so stupid? So naive? So gullible? He was fooled by his father's 'deathbed change'. He should've known it was just a temporary panic. Dying changes everything. Almost dying changes nothing.
He booked the fastest flight while rushing to the airport in a cab. Just leave and forget, before it was going to eat him alive.
The flight was terrible. It was long enough to make anyone miserable just on its own but right after bone marrow donation, it was pure hell. He could feel all the side effects kick in, the cramped seat only amplifying it and the jet lag setting in wasn't helping either.
He spent most of the flight either sleeping restlessly or DDX'ing himself — tracking all the symptoms, making sure they were just normal side effects of the procedure and not complications from it. He mentally cursed himself for being so absent-minded that he had checked in his medical bag instead of bringing it as a carry-on.
"Some great doctor I am" he mumbled annoyedly under his breath.
The moment the plane landed, he groaned inwardly. He was one of the last people to leave, limping sluggishly towards the exit.
The wait for the baggage felt like an eternity. Eternity in hell. The second it was finally there, he immediately snatched it and walked —or rather stumbled— out of the airport.
He almost whined as he felt the icy air hitting his exhausted body. Right, he almost forgot it was winter in the Northern Hemisphere. Stupid geography.
When the ache was too much, he just knelt on the ground and opened the medical bag, rummaging through it desperately, looking for anything to help. Maybe some acetaminophen or ibuprofen. Or something for the nausea too. Ugh, the nausea. He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. He felt like he was going to puke.
"You idiot!"
At first, he thought he had heard that voice in his head, but then there was the clinking of the cane, each tap vibrating softly through the concrete he was still kneeling on.
His head immediately snapped up, and he looked in the direction of the voice.
"House? What on earth are you doing here?" he asked confused.
"I should be asking you this. You should still be in Australia, resting in a hospital bed, like any normal person would after donating a bone marrow"
Chase shrugged. "I got homesick" he joked. Then he frowned. "Wait, how did you—"
"You look like shit" House commented casually. Then reached out his hand to him. "Get up before you catch your death" he added, helping him up.
Chase stood up with a small wince. "Agh!" he hissed through clenched teeth.
House had the mercy not to comment on that and he just led him to the car, his hand wrapped around the young doctor. He helped him sit down on the passenger seat and then got into the driver's seat. He started the car and cranked up the AC, which made Chase relax immediately.
For a while, they drove in silence.
"How did you know?" Chase asked.
"About what? You moving up the date of your flight? The confirmation email. You were still logged into the computer in PPTH."
"No, I wasn't." Chase argued.
"Fine, you weren't. But your password is 'password'. If you want privacy, din't be a moron, can't have it both ways."
Chase huffed annoyedly but didn't comment. "That's not what I meant. How did you know about... this whole thing?"
"I knew about your father's leukaemia since his visit to Jersey. Then you got a phone call. Aussie number. You were so shaken afterwards and then suddenly declared you were taking a week off. It doesn't take a mathematician to add 2 and 2"
The car was filled with silence again. Well, except for Chase's constant squirming, shifting, shivering and teeth chattering. House reached into his pocket and got the familiar orange pill bottle before throwing it to Chase who sluggishly caught it.
"I just need some acetaminophen" he said.
"Which is in the Vicodin"
"Yeah, along with the hydrocodone" Chase pointed out.
"Just treat it as something to take the edge off" House muttered. "Besides, I rarely offer it to anyone, so be grateful, take it and shut up" he huffed.
Chase smiled softly and took one pill, swallowing it with a subtle grimace at the bitter aftertaste it left on his tongue.
"Wuss" House commented with a small smirk, before handing him a thermos. "Here's some tea"
"Thanks" Chase mumbled and took a sip, before almost spitting it out, his eyes going wide. "Oh my god, it's vodka" he said the second he swallowed it.
"Really? Gee, thanks for telling me" House commented. "Just a few drops, it'll warm you up, stop whining"
Chase grimaced but continued sipping during the drive.
Soon the car stopped.
"We're here" House said.
Chase, who was half asleep, sat up and glanced through the window. Then he got out of the car drowsily, limping painfully.
House sighed and rolled down the car window, then handed him his cane. "There. Take it."
Chase looked at him, surprised, and hesitated.
"Oh, come on, I have another one in the trunk. And several ones at home. Just borrow it, it won't bite" House said, rolling his eyes.
Chase nodded and took it. "Thanks... For everything" he said.
House just gave him a nod. "Can't have my team member dying. The job interviews would'vr been a pain in the ass" he said.
Chase smirked and turned to leave.
House watched him take a few steps. "Hey!" he called suddenly.
The young doctor turned to him. "Yeah?"
"Your father's an idiot if he can't appreciate what he has"
Chase froze, then nodded and left.
House drove off. "I wouldn't even need your bone marrow" he muttered under his breath while turning on the car radio and lowering the AC temperature setting.