Chapter Text
"He's seizing," Cameron called out.
Foreman reached out and got the patient on his side.
"Pushing five milligrams of Diazepam," Chase announced.
House stood back and watched as his team handled the patient's seizure. He watched Cameron observing his vitals, a concerned yet focused expression on her features. He noted how Foreman's face twisted up as he fought to keep the patient's convulsing body in a steady position. He watched as Chase discarded the syringe once the medication was injected.
His focus stayed on Chase. His face was blank. His eyes were unfocused. He swayed on his feet.
He took a jerky step back. He reached his right arm out to find a place on the wall to prop himself up.
"What the hell was that," Foreman asked. The patient's eyes had slipped closed and his body had stopped twitching. He lay limp, held up on his side by Foreman.
Cameron sighed and shook her head. "Maybe it's something we gave him?"
Foreman shook his head. "He had to come in with whatever this was. Nothing we gave him could cause seizures."
Cameron's brows furrowed. "Anything can cause a seizure. We gave him morphine for the pain, that could have triggered it."
Foreman rolled his eyes. "We barely gave him morphine. It might as well have sneezed on him. Unless an underlying condition associated with increased seizure risk is what he has, the morphine didn't do shit."
"Maybe he was on another medication that could cause seizures," Foreman continued.
"Nothing was on file," Cameron retorted, crossing her arms. Her eyes danced between Foreman, the patient, and the monitors he was attached to. "Unless you're thinking illicit or over the counter medications."
Foreman shrugged. "Even abruptly stopping medications could cause seizure activity."
House yawned. The moment his eyes closed, a loud thud sounded, echoing throughout the room.
Cameron gasped and House's eyes shot open.
Chase had passed out.
"What the hell happened?"
"Chase? Chase wake up."
"This isn't funny."
"He knows that."
"Chase, we're getting married."
"I thought you just said this wasn't funny."
"It's not. I'm completely serious. You know that, don't you, Robbie?"
"Stop flirting with you unconcious employee."
As voices became clearer, so did the knives being shoved into Chase's brain.
He pushed himself up to a seated position as fast as he could.
He didn't know where he was. He didn't know what had happened. He wasn't aware that anything had happened. He wasn't fully coherent or anything close to the word.
All he felt was pain.
He heard a loud whimper break through the gelatinous barrier between his ears and brain. He clutched either side of his head. He dug his nails into his skull.
Another whimper sounded. He felt it come from his own throat.
He squeezed his eyes tight. He ducked his head between his knees.
"Chase?" He couldn't tell who was speaking. The voice sounded far away. It sounded like a dream.
Maybe he was dreaming. He couldn't feel his body. The darkness behind his closed lids seemed too dark to be real.
He wasn't hot or cold. He didn't feel naked or clothed. He didn't feel as if he were anywhere. He wasn't sitting or standing, floating or grounded.
All he felt was searing pain in his head.
Slowly, the pain started to fade. His grip loosened on his head, slipping away from his grasp as if he were falling down a deep hole.
He became more certain he was floating. The darkness behind his eyes didn't look as dark, he couldn't see at all. His eyes weren't sending any messages to his brain.
He could hear voices. He couldn't understand them. He couldn't understand they were voices.
Without being aware of any other option, Chase gave in. He let himself float away, every sensation and hint of awareness he'd gained lost as unconciousness embraced him.
House leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes and stretched his arms over his head. An ugly sound excaped his throat as he yawned.
He twirled his cane in his hands as he stared at Chase. He was staring at him, half confused and half irritated.
"What's going on?" Chase repeated.
House shrugged, feigning disinterest as he watched his cane spin between his palms.
Chase sighed and shook his head. House watched him through his lashes as he glared down at his lap.
"What happened?" Chase asked. He sounded far too frustrated for irritation to be the only thing on his mind. He had to be scared.
House stopped fidgeting with his cane and looked up at his fellow. He kept his face neutral as he met his fearful gaze. He swore Chase's lip was trembling under the bright white overhead lighting of the hospital room.
"You passed out." House maintained his relaxed posture. He wanted to see Chase's raw, genuine reaction. He didn't want his own emotions or actions to influence how Chase came off. He spoke as evenly as he could. As objectively as he could. He wasn't sure he could keep up the act without poking fun at the wombat, but he might as well try.
Chase's expression relaxed a little. He glanced away for a second, brows pinching together. He looked back to House, his brows remaining in their tense state. His hand fidgeted with the hospital blanket underneath him. He was still in his clothing. It was strange to see a doctor donning his labcoat reclined in a hospital bed. It didn't seem like he was a patient.
"Why am I in a hospital bed?" Chase asked. House snorted and rolled his eyes.
"Oh, you're serious?" Chase nodded. He sneered at House like he was the one asking the dumb questions.
"You fainted five times in a row. Each time in between you had no idea where you were, who you were, what happened," House started. "You took your pants off at one point."
Chase shot upright into a seat. "Seriously?"
House shook his head. Chase rolled his eyes and swung his legs over the side of the bed, all the fear fleeing his features and being replaced with relief and annoyance.
"What do you think you're doing?" House asked. Chase didn't respond. He didn't look at him. He set his feet on the ground and stood up. He headed for the door in silence. House could feel the fear and the unasked questions radiating off of Chase in waves. It was more than just waves, House was already in an ocean of Chase's emotions.
"Chase," House called out. Chase spun around to face him, hand on the doorhandle. His expression was carefully set still and neutral. He was too still and tense to be truly indifferent.
House stood up from his seat. He walked up to Chase. He was surprised when the kid didn't try to bolt.
"Get back on that hospital bed." Chase drew in a shuddery breath. His eyes widened the slightest amount. House stared him down, fuelled with the confidence that he was getting to his head.
Chase shook his head. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He shifted his weight slightly to his left leg and began turning the doorhandle behind him.
"I'm fine," Chase assured. He turned around and stepped out the door. "I need to get back to work."
House waited for two steps to sound in the hall before he spoke again. It gave him time to think of a lie.
"The patient's fine."
Chase stopped. He turned around. He looked a little disappointed.
He stepped back into the room. His hand found the doorhandle on the opposite side of the door.
"Really?" Chase asked.
House nodded. "Don't sound so excited."
Chase nodded shortly. "What was it?"
House shrugged. He chose to ignore him. "Get back on the bed."
Chase's gaze hardened. He took a deep breath before speaking. "No."
"You passed out five times. You never fully regained conciousness between those episodes. You need to get back on the hospital bed now."
Chase shook his head. "I'm fine. Trust me. I'm not going to pass out again."
House scoffed. "You don't know that."
Chase stepped inside the room. He slammed the door behind him and cross his arms. There wasn't any of the confusion or fear that had been in his expression earlier. He was conident. He was right.
"I know. I know when I'm going to pass out. I know what I'm doing."
"Is this related to when you fainted in the diagnostics room?" House asked. HE knew the answer, but he let Chase fill in the blanks.
He same a hint of guilt in his face. Curious how guilt was the emotion that came to mind.
"If it is?" Chase asked. Safe to say, House believed his assumption that he wasn't going to pass out again. When he'd come to earlier, his eyes wouldn't focus, he wouldn't process what anyone said to him, and he would speak without making sense. Now, he was standing, coherent, and being a huge pain in House's ass, signs that he was back to his usual self. It wasn't hard to believe based on his observations that Chase was trying to get under House's skin. At least partially.
"Sit back down." House made sure his tone was dripping with warning. One danger of his fellows growing comfortable around him was they could become less likely to take him seriously. Now wasn't the time to look out for Chase's comfort.
"Why?" It was hard to tell if that was at all a genuine question. Either way, he was mostly being resistant.
"Because you hit your head when you fainted," House shouted. Chase's eyes widened as he recoiled, any confidence he had instantly fading away. "When you first woke up, you grabbed your head in pain. You're not fine. You need to sit back down. We need to run tests."
Silence followed. Chase stood stationary. For a moment House wondered if he would storm off. He wondered if his words were null in effect. Regardless, he stood firm. He kept his glare. He stayed intimidating.
Chase looked down at the ground. He weaved around House and walked back to the bed. House watched as he climbed back on, slowly reclining himself against the pillow.