People Who Don't Need People. Dr. Chase. House MD. psych_30. 489 words.
Fandom: House, MD
Title: People Who Don't Need People
Characters: Dr. Robert Chase
Rating: PG
Prompt: #15. Halo Effect.
Word Count: 489
Spoilers: Euphoria I & II, Forever
Warnings: (if any) Some not nice imagery concerning the events of Forever. A little bit of graphic body talk. Nothing huge.
Disclaimer: Not mine, belongs to David Shore and his minions. More's the pity.
A/N: Set a few days or a week after Forever.
The first time Chase noticed the tiredness was when he'd complained about the coffee. He'd yowled at Foreman, something along the lines of 'are you sure your bloody brain healed.'
He'd blinked after that and apologised, chalking it up to stress and the insanity of the last few days. He'd only had one nightmare he could remember, of Michael screaming and choking as Chase's hands were cuffed behind his back. He'd dreamt of dead babies before, swollen or shot, crying or silent, but this one had been bad.
He'd had to take Ambien to sleep those nights. He hadn't taken it too often since then, but both Foreman and Cameron knew he did. Still, they tap-danced around the subject, even when he looked pale and drawn, even unshaven on rare mornings. Never was Chase asked to go home and rest. Nor did he ever go of his own volition. At any rate. He kept working NICU until the rotation ended. Babies didn't lie. Unlike the cop.
After that episode, he hadn't thought that much more about it, really. Until he'd had the next adult patient to diagnose.
The man said he was thirty and had never had a drink in his life; he was clearly younger and damned fond of the stuff. Chase could smell it; could scent the lying and the retrospective embarrassment as he talked hesitatingly of "upset stomach" and black stools. He'd seen the tremors in the hands, seen the nervousness and continual moistening of lips. He'd wanted to be believed.
Chase had diagnosed it as gastritis, and advised the man to cut down on stress, but something had pushed the words out; the ones that sounded blunt even in his laid back accent. "You might want to get away from your friends Johnnie Walker and Captain Morgan, too." The man had stared, dumbfounded, guilty and a bit angry as Chase had headed out of the room. And Chase had been fine.
Now he sat alone in the office, looking around at the pile of medical journals and notes, rolling his pen between his knuckles. He could spy House through the glass and half turned blinds, staring up at the ceiling and down again as he tossed his ball up and back.
He'd been snapping at everyone too much. Sniping and sarcastic. Sure, it was fun, but it grated. This did, at least. It felt like he was losing himself, somehow. But of all places not to get philosophical. He needed to go home. Needed to sleep. Needed to forget people.
As he rose, he saw the occupant of the office do the same, limping across the room for his jacket and bag. Chase shrugged into his own jacket, slinging the messenger bag moodily over one shoulder. As he stepped out of the office, he heard the sound of House's office door being locked. He wasn't alone. He wasn't sure whether that thought comforted or terrified.
Title: People Who Don't Need People
Characters: Dr. Robert Chase
Rating: PG
Prompt: #15. Halo Effect.
Word Count: 489
Spoilers: Euphoria I & II, Forever
Warnings: (if any) Some not nice imagery concerning the events of Forever. A little bit of graphic body talk. Nothing huge.
Disclaimer: Not mine, belongs to David Shore and his minions. More's the pity.
A/N: Set a few days or a week after Forever.
The first time Chase noticed the tiredness was when he'd complained about the coffee. He'd yowled at Foreman, something along the lines of 'are you sure your bloody brain healed.'
He'd blinked after that and apologised, chalking it up to stress and the insanity of the last few days. He'd only had one nightmare he could remember, of Michael screaming and choking as Chase's hands were cuffed behind his back. He'd dreamt of dead babies before, swollen or shot, crying or silent, but this one had been bad.
He'd had to take Ambien to sleep those nights. He hadn't taken it too often since then, but both Foreman and Cameron knew he did. Still, they tap-danced around the subject, even when he looked pale and drawn, even unshaven on rare mornings. Never was Chase asked to go home and rest. Nor did he ever go of his own volition. At any rate. He kept working NICU until the rotation ended. Babies didn't lie. Unlike the cop.
After that episode, he hadn't thought that much more about it, really. Until he'd had the next adult patient to diagnose.
The man said he was thirty and had never had a drink in his life; he was clearly younger and damned fond of the stuff. Chase could smell it; could scent the lying and the retrospective embarrassment as he talked hesitatingly of "upset stomach" and black stools. He'd seen the tremors in the hands, seen the nervousness and continual moistening of lips. He'd wanted to be believed.
Chase had diagnosed it as gastritis, and advised the man to cut down on stress, but something had pushed the words out; the ones that sounded blunt even in his laid back accent. "You might want to get away from your friends Johnnie Walker and Captain Morgan, too." The man had stared, dumbfounded, guilty and a bit angry as Chase had headed out of the room. And Chase had been fine.
Now he sat alone in the office, looking around at the pile of medical journals and notes, rolling his pen between his knuckles. He could spy House through the glass and half turned blinds, staring up at the ceiling and down again as he tossed his ball up and back.
He'd been snapping at everyone too much. Sniping and sarcastic. Sure, it was fun, but it grated. This did, at least. It felt like he was losing himself, somehow. But of all places not to get philosophical. He needed to go home. Needed to sleep. Needed to forget people.
As he rose, he saw the occupant of the office do the same, limping across the room for his jacket and bag. Chase shrugged into his own jacket, slinging the messenger bag moodily over one shoulder. As he stepped out of the office, he heard the sound of House's office door being locked. He wasn't alone. He wasn't sure whether that thought comforted or terrified.