You Already Know How This Will End
Chapters: (1/?)
Summary: After his actions in "The Tyrant", Chase suffers a breakdown, and those close to him try to cope.
Word Count: 1, 480
Rated R: for dark themes, mention of suicide.
Disclaimer: If David Shore and I were the same person, this would be a different story.
“And in your heart
You know it to be true
You know what you gotta do
They all depend on you
And you already know
Yet you already know
How this will end”
“How It Ends”--Devotchka
The phone rings sometime around 3 am, just after Foreman has finally managed to drift off into a fitful, dreamless sleep. Somehow he manages to snatch up the phone from its cradle and bring it to his ear, attempting to emit a groggy “Hello…?” and trying not to fall off the bed in the process.
At first Foreman thinks he’s still dreaming, because the clamor that greets him on the other end of the line sounds far too surreal to be anything but a dream. He hears someone burst out, screaming hysterically, in a madman’s rage, “You don’t understand what I’m telling you: I deserve it! God didn’t have the guts to do it yet, so I did it!” and someone else shouting desperately in the background, a female voice pleading with him, “No you don’t deserve it, and no you didn’t do anything, Chase! It’s not just you who played a part in this. We are all at fault; we were all involved!”
After hearing the word “Chase” Foreman snaps awake completely, everything that’s happened over the course of the past two days flashes in front of his eyes with frightening speed and velocity and sending him to his feet. A potent mixture of dread and alarm fills his chest as he leaps off the bed, squinting suspiciously into the shadows, his voice haggard with heavy breathing as he demands loudly, “CHASE? Is that you?”
“Give me the phone,” he hears Cameron snap in a surprisingly rough voice, and then she’s talking to him: or more accurately, blubbering frantically into his ear. “Foreman, oh my God Foreman, I don’t know what to do----he’s threatening to kill himself, and I can’t get him to come to the hospital with me, and he’s standing here holding a bottle of my antidepressants and, oh my God--” Before he can respond, she breaks down sobbing uncontrollably, loud withering gasps that relentlessly assault his ears.
“Okay, okay, calm down Cameron, just put him on the phone, okay?” Foreman tries to erase the image of Chase standing there threatening to end his life with his own wife’s bottle of pills. “Chase?” He hears his voice, but it’s as though it belongs to someone else, as everything around him falls away. “You there?”
For a moment, there’s nothing but silence except for the feint sound of Cameron whimpering in the background, and then, at last, he gets the response he’s been waiting for. “Yeah.” Chase sounds much calmer, but there’s still an unstable edge to his voice, and a heaviness to it that Foreman doesn’t remember having witnessed before.
“Okay, okay, good,” Foreman says, as calmly as possible though his voice continues to shake slightly, knowing that Chase’s guilt far outweighs anyone else’s reasoning to ensure that he shouldn’t do what Foreman fears Chase is about to do. “Now talk to me, Chase---tell me what’s on your mind.”
“I don’t want to live anymore.” The voice on the other hand doesn’t sound anything like the confident Aussie that he’s used to; Foreman feels as though he’s talking to a stranger. “I killed a man, Foreman….” Before Foreman can respond, Chase begins to sob softly into the phone without inhibition, and for the first time in his life Foreman doesn’t know what to say. “A man is dead because of me…I’m going to go to jail…she doesn’t believe that I did it. She thinks I’m blaming myself for an accidental death…”
Foreman shivers as Chase continues to sob, and as Cameron continues to plead. “You did what you did,” Foreman says slowly, uncertainly, “and now you have to deal with the consequences. You knew that the moment you went down to that morgue, Chase…nobody forced you.” He winces at the last words, not sure whether he’s making things better or worse. Yet nothing either he or Cameron is doing is of much help, as Chase should be in a psych ward right now, not on the phone talking to him.
“You need to go to the hospital, Chase,” Foreman says firmly, gritting his teeth as he hears the cold edge filter into his voice. “You need to talk to someone.”
“A priest?” Chase half-laughs on the other end, but to Foreman, it only makes Chase sound more hysterical. “You fucking kidding me, Foreman? A priest?”
“A doctor,” Foreman says tightly. “You’re sick, Chase. You need to see someone before you do yourself harm.”
“I already have,” Chase whispers in dull monotone, “I’ve ruined everything, Foreman…I have nothing left.”
“Do you really want to be another Kutner?” Foreman bites back, hating the harshness in his voice---at the same time, knowing it’s necessary, if Chase is ever going to ascend back to reality. “Isn’t one pointless death enough?”
“It’s not pointless,” the android-like zombie on the phone supplies, “it’s necessary….I did what nobody else could do, because it was too dangerous. I’ll be obliterated eventually anyway…everything balances out at some point…it’s the law of the universe.”
“Chase…think of Cameron. Allison,” Foreman corrects himself, “your wife. Do you realize what you killing yourself will do to her? She’s already lost one husband…don’t let her lose another.”
“She’s already lost me,” comes the colorless voice on the other end, “she just doesn’t know it yet.”
“You don’t know that,” Foreman persists, feeling his hope begin to dwindle, the panic rising up in his throat and threatening to spill out into his voice, “don’t do anything rash, okay? We’re going to help you through this.” His mind screaming at him to call 911; images of Kutner dead on the floor of his apartment swirl about aimlessly in Foreman’s brain, but he can’t do anything except stand there and try to keep on talking Chase down from the ledge.
“No one can help me now.” Chase is sobbing helplessly without restraint into his ear, and he can’t help but feel lost himself, because he doesn’t ever know what to do when a grown man starts crying. He can’t remember the last time he’s cried himself; and whenever one of his parents cries, he turns his eyes away.
“That’s not true,” Foreman says, trying to keep the tears from edging to the front of his eyelids, “you’re not hopeless, Chase. You were trying to do a good thing…I understand. He was going to enforce the killing and rape and torture of thousands of people, and you just wanted to prevent it.”
“I did,” Chase whimpers bitterly, “I did…I couldn’t help it…he was just too evil…”
“You’re not going to be doing anybody any good if you do yourself in, Chase,” Foreman insists, “We don’t want to lose you…losing one person to suicide is more than enough…there’s always a way out, Chase, I promise you.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” He can barely hear Chase through the sobs.
Foreman is seconds away from losing it himself, but before he caves in, he says firmly, “Can you please give Cameron the pills now, Chase?”
“I can’t…”
“Do it, Chase.” Foreman can hear Cameron’s voice pressing firmly into the sobs. “I don’t care what happened, I just want you here.”
“I’m sorry,” Chase is blubbering, and Foreman feels a sense of relief as he hears Cameron whispering in a barely audible voice, “Thank you God,” and Chase breaking down in the background completely.
“I’m going to drive him to the emergency room,” Cameron says, “he needs to see someone…I don’t care if its Princeton Plainsboro, he’s at risk.”
“Should I come with you?” Foreman offers, still feeling light-headed with relief. “Someone should talk to Cuddy about this….”
“I don’t want this leaking,” Cameron demands, “please…he’s already lost his faith in himself and in God, and I don’t want him losing anything else…his job is so important to him...”
“I’ll do what I can,” Foreman informs her, and he means it with all his heart. “Just make sure that you get him somewhere safe…an overnight hold would probably be a good thing…”
“Thank you Foreman,” Cameron says, voice still shaking precariously, “I can’t thank you enough…”
“Just make sure he’s safe,” is all Foreman can bring himself to say.
“I’m so sorry,” he can hear Chase continuing to sob in the background, and Cameron comforting him softly over and over again, “It’s okay, baby, come here, it’s okay,” as he hangs up the phone with a trembling hand.
Sitting there in the dark, Foreman tries to gather himself together, knowing that he has a long night ahead of him; but at least he’s not the only one. He’s not sure whether it should be he who confesses to Chase’s actual crime, but someone has to do it, and Chase has to be well enough if he should even be believed.
If there’s anyone who would believe him, Foreman knows, it’s House.
And right now, Foreman knows, he could use all the help he can get.
Summary: After his actions in "The Tyrant", Chase suffers a breakdown, and those close to him try to cope.
Word Count: 1, 480
Rated R: for dark themes, mention of suicide.
Disclaimer: If David Shore and I were the same person, this would be a different story.
“And in your heart
You know it to be true
You know what you gotta do
They all depend on you
And you already know
Yet you already know
How this will end”
“How It Ends”--Devotchka
The phone rings sometime around 3 am, just after Foreman has finally managed to drift off into a fitful, dreamless sleep. Somehow he manages to snatch up the phone from its cradle and bring it to his ear, attempting to emit a groggy “Hello…?” and trying not to fall off the bed in the process.
At first Foreman thinks he’s still dreaming, because the clamor that greets him on the other end of the line sounds far too surreal to be anything but a dream. He hears someone burst out, screaming hysterically, in a madman’s rage, “You don’t understand what I’m telling you: I deserve it! God didn’t have the guts to do it yet, so I did it!” and someone else shouting desperately in the background, a female voice pleading with him, “No you don’t deserve it, and no you didn’t do anything, Chase! It’s not just you who played a part in this. We are all at fault; we were all involved!”
After hearing the word “Chase” Foreman snaps awake completely, everything that’s happened over the course of the past two days flashes in front of his eyes with frightening speed and velocity and sending him to his feet. A potent mixture of dread and alarm fills his chest as he leaps off the bed, squinting suspiciously into the shadows, his voice haggard with heavy breathing as he demands loudly, “CHASE? Is that you?”
“Give me the phone,” he hears Cameron snap in a surprisingly rough voice, and then she’s talking to him: or more accurately, blubbering frantically into his ear. “Foreman, oh my God Foreman, I don’t know what to do----he’s threatening to kill himself, and I can’t get him to come to the hospital with me, and he’s standing here holding a bottle of my antidepressants and, oh my God--” Before he can respond, she breaks down sobbing uncontrollably, loud withering gasps that relentlessly assault his ears.
“Okay, okay, calm down Cameron, just put him on the phone, okay?” Foreman tries to erase the image of Chase standing there threatening to end his life with his own wife’s bottle of pills. “Chase?” He hears his voice, but it’s as though it belongs to someone else, as everything around him falls away. “You there?”
For a moment, there’s nothing but silence except for the feint sound of Cameron whimpering in the background, and then, at last, he gets the response he’s been waiting for. “Yeah.” Chase sounds much calmer, but there’s still an unstable edge to his voice, and a heaviness to it that Foreman doesn’t remember having witnessed before.
“Okay, okay, good,” Foreman says, as calmly as possible though his voice continues to shake slightly, knowing that Chase’s guilt far outweighs anyone else’s reasoning to ensure that he shouldn’t do what Foreman fears Chase is about to do. “Now talk to me, Chase---tell me what’s on your mind.”
“I don’t want to live anymore.” The voice on the other hand doesn’t sound anything like the confident Aussie that he’s used to; Foreman feels as though he’s talking to a stranger. “I killed a man, Foreman….” Before Foreman can respond, Chase begins to sob softly into the phone without inhibition, and for the first time in his life Foreman doesn’t know what to say. “A man is dead because of me…I’m going to go to jail…she doesn’t believe that I did it. She thinks I’m blaming myself for an accidental death…”
Foreman shivers as Chase continues to sob, and as Cameron continues to plead. “You did what you did,” Foreman says slowly, uncertainly, “and now you have to deal with the consequences. You knew that the moment you went down to that morgue, Chase…nobody forced you.” He winces at the last words, not sure whether he’s making things better or worse. Yet nothing either he or Cameron is doing is of much help, as Chase should be in a psych ward right now, not on the phone talking to him.
“You need to go to the hospital, Chase,” Foreman says firmly, gritting his teeth as he hears the cold edge filter into his voice. “You need to talk to someone.”
“A priest?” Chase half-laughs on the other end, but to Foreman, it only makes Chase sound more hysterical. “You fucking kidding me, Foreman? A priest?”
“A doctor,” Foreman says tightly. “You’re sick, Chase. You need to see someone before you do yourself harm.”
“I already have,” Chase whispers in dull monotone, “I’ve ruined everything, Foreman…I have nothing left.”
“Do you really want to be another Kutner?” Foreman bites back, hating the harshness in his voice---at the same time, knowing it’s necessary, if Chase is ever going to ascend back to reality. “Isn’t one pointless death enough?”
“It’s not pointless,” the android-like zombie on the phone supplies, “it’s necessary….I did what nobody else could do, because it was too dangerous. I’ll be obliterated eventually anyway…everything balances out at some point…it’s the law of the universe.”
“Chase…think of Cameron. Allison,” Foreman corrects himself, “your wife. Do you realize what you killing yourself will do to her? She’s already lost one husband…don’t let her lose another.”
“She’s already lost me,” comes the colorless voice on the other end, “she just doesn’t know it yet.”
“You don’t know that,” Foreman persists, feeling his hope begin to dwindle, the panic rising up in his throat and threatening to spill out into his voice, “don’t do anything rash, okay? We’re going to help you through this.” His mind screaming at him to call 911; images of Kutner dead on the floor of his apartment swirl about aimlessly in Foreman’s brain, but he can’t do anything except stand there and try to keep on talking Chase down from the ledge.
“No one can help me now.” Chase is sobbing helplessly without restraint into his ear, and he can’t help but feel lost himself, because he doesn’t ever know what to do when a grown man starts crying. He can’t remember the last time he’s cried himself; and whenever one of his parents cries, he turns his eyes away.
“That’s not true,” Foreman says, trying to keep the tears from edging to the front of his eyelids, “you’re not hopeless, Chase. You were trying to do a good thing…I understand. He was going to enforce the killing and rape and torture of thousands of people, and you just wanted to prevent it.”
“I did,” Chase whimpers bitterly, “I did…I couldn’t help it…he was just too evil…”
“You’re not going to be doing anybody any good if you do yourself in, Chase,” Foreman insists, “We don’t want to lose you…losing one person to suicide is more than enough…there’s always a way out, Chase, I promise you.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” He can barely hear Chase through the sobs.
Foreman is seconds away from losing it himself, but before he caves in, he says firmly, “Can you please give Cameron the pills now, Chase?”
“I can’t…”
“Do it, Chase.” Foreman can hear Cameron’s voice pressing firmly into the sobs. “I don’t care what happened, I just want you here.”
“I’m sorry,” Chase is blubbering, and Foreman feels a sense of relief as he hears Cameron whispering in a barely audible voice, “Thank you God,” and Chase breaking down in the background completely.
“I’m going to drive him to the emergency room,” Cameron says, “he needs to see someone…I don’t care if its Princeton Plainsboro, he’s at risk.”
“Should I come with you?” Foreman offers, still feeling light-headed with relief. “Someone should talk to Cuddy about this….”
“I don’t want this leaking,” Cameron demands, “please…he’s already lost his faith in himself and in God, and I don’t want him losing anything else…his job is so important to him...”
“I’ll do what I can,” Foreman informs her, and he means it with all his heart. “Just make sure that you get him somewhere safe…an overnight hold would probably be a good thing…”
“Thank you Foreman,” Cameron says, voice still shaking precariously, “I can’t thank you enough…”
“Just make sure he’s safe,” is all Foreman can bring himself to say.
“I’m so sorry,” he can hear Chase continuing to sob in the background, and Cameron comforting him softly over and over again, “It’s okay, baby, come here, it’s okay,” as he hangs up the phone with a trembling hand.
Sitting there in the dark, Foreman tries to gather himself together, knowing that he has a long night ahead of him; but at least he’s not the only one. He’s not sure whether it should be he who confesses to Chase’s actual crime, but someone has to do it, and Chase has to be well enough if he should even be believed.
If there’s anyone who would believe him, Foreman knows, it’s House.
And right now, Foreman knows, he could use all the help he can get.