this is me by ze_toaster
Title: this is me
Author: ze_toaster
Pairings: None
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2185
AN: My author's note was so long, inane and uninteresting that I devoted an entire post to it! It consists entirely of apologies. You can go read it if you like; I'd rather you read the story. I wrote it for my sake rather than yours.
Prompt: 49. Chase has some disability. How would that effect him?
He stared for a full second, face completely blank.
Doctor Chase? A m-o-m-e-n-t of your t-i-m-e?
House thought for a second that Chase was going to say something, but he simply dropped the CT scan onto the table and disappeared out into the corridor without a word, verbal or otherwise.
Cameron and Foreman looked at each other. House cocked his head to one side. "These young doctors. No manners. It's like they don't care about people."
"My fault, probably," the stranger replied. It was an interesting accent- like he was talking from the back of his throat.
"He was just about to tell us something important, you realise. Or elaborate on it, really." House gave the gentleman an analytical stare.
"You're Chase's dad," he said. Chase Senior frowned, but tilted his head lightly in affirmation.
"I could tell," House clarified, "what with the big hug and how happy he was to see you." He sipped his coffee and smiled smugly.
The boys bolted as soon as he appeared. He held up a hand, calling after them.
If they noticed the strange quality to his voice, they didn't comment. He didn't catch all of what the taller one said, but the gesture towards the corner was clear enough.
He put on a face mask, looking for samples. He asked if either had been sick... Definitely a negative response, from both of them. Good thing, as he didn't know how he'd communicate with them about a more specific subject. He spotted some strange fibers, bagging them immediately-
He felt, rather than saw, the boys take a run for it, the floorboards trembling under the smaller one's combat boots. Glancing up, instantly alert, he had a glimpse of the second one disappearing out the door.
He dashed to the window. Out in the street, a policewoman was getting out of her car.
Chase put his leg over the window sill, grabbing at the tree branch. He slipped, of course, crashing into the leafy undergrowth one story below, bashing his head painfully on a tree root.
He should have known better. How old did he think he was, twelve?
Hobbling slightly, he sidled around to the back of the house, before ducking out through a hole in the fence.
It's made of animal hair, he told House. I was right. We can keep him on L-e-v-a-q-u-i-n.
He's not on L-e-v-a-q-u-i-n, House replied.
The look on his face, House thought, was priceless. And of course it was exaggerated, which made it even better.
Why? Why didn't you-
Ooh, I don't know, House said airily. We couldn't really be sure, without a sample and all.
L. is a wide spectrum- Anthrax is . . . a few hours make a LOT OF DIFFERENCE. You know that- Chase stopped. There's a point, isn't there, he said flatly. There's always a point. You're going to give me some new information, and suddenly you'll look smart.
House grinned. Bravo, he said.
Chase raised his eyebrows, but House didn't say anything more. He spun around and stalked out.
"Chase!" House snapped. He picked up a pen and flicked it at his retreating back. It bounced of the back of his head. Chase swung around instantly, furious. House grinned at that.
I've told you before, if you want my attention you-
Chase, he said sharply. I put the kid on L-e-v. as soon as you left.
Oh.
And if you ever walk out in the middle of the D-D-X again, you're fired. Even if Daddy is at the door.
Uh-huh, Chase said, and walked out again. You couldn't really storm out twice.
House glared. Damn. He hadn't asked why they'd gone through the pointless exchange. A pity, as he had the answer already in his head, the delivery all sorted out.
Experimentation.
I need to see the file
House gave a long sigh. "You don't need to see the file. You want to see the file. There is a big difference."
Chase paused, staring intently at his face. I know I've already seen it- he began hesitantly. I need to see it again.
"WRONG!" House said gleefully. Chase frowned.
"Stop it, House," Cameron said. Chase turned his head and glared suspiciously at her.
Foreman by this time had actually gotten the file, and tossed it down. Chase reacted too late, scrabbling as it hit the table.
He was embarrassed now, blush dusting his cheeks and the tips of his ears.
They spent an uncomfortable 15 minutes of silence waiting for Rowan to turn up. House, of course, reveled in uncomfortable moments, and spent the whole time humming to himself.
"So, you're telling me this boy has Anthrax and is allergic to two antibiotics. Hate to step on anybody's toes, but is it possible that you guys got this one wrong?"
Chase typed something on his laptop, spinning it around so his father could see.
Rowan raised his eyebrows. "Except for the colour."
They usually had a system that worked out quite well, with House writing most of the DDX up on the board and Chase lip-reading or guessing the rest, signing or typing his opinions on the case back to the rest of them.
With a stranger thrown into the mix, the balance tipped, and he started to fall behind.
"It's not black," Cameron said. "No necrosis, no anthrax."
"So, back to the beginning," House said. "What do the throat nodules tell us?"
"Sarcoidosis."
"Send an ACE level. If it comes back positive- "
The mediastinum's still widened- Chase butted in.
You sure are holding onto that diagnosis, House said, smirking.
Necrosis can take as long as two weeks. There was animal hair in a place he'd fallen and cut his skin.
House went over the top of him. "So, you're saying this kid has anthrax and sarcoidosis?"
"Or an anthrax and an allergic reaction," Cameron interrupted.
"Two," said House. "Two allergic reactions."
"Which is about as likely as Anthrax and Sarcoidosis," said Foreman.
"Which is a very small chance," said Rowan, somewhat needlessly.
"I live for the undocumented," said House. "Anyway, they don't need to be unrelated. One could have set of the other."
Chase suddenly slammed his hand onto the glass conference table. Everyone stared at him.
We've been over this before, he said angrily. If you want my input, you're going to have to slow down.
House sneered immediately. You said when I hired you that this wouldn't be an issue.
Cameron glared at him. "You're baiting. Stop it."
"Can we get on with the differential?" Foreman asked.
"No, we're dealing with this," sniped Cameron.
Chase signed angrily. I don't need your pity, he snapped at Cameron.
"This isn't constructive," she said.
"Will you both-"
House suddenly slammed his cane into the table. So hard, in fact, that the glass shattered, forming a neat cobweb of hairline cracks.
They all stared at it for a moment. There was a long pause.
"Oops," said House.
The sores puckered all over his back and neck, hideously deforming once smooth skin.
"What is it?" asked the mother weakly.
"I don't know," said Foreman.
FUGLY SKIN LESIONS
Auto immune:
-too agro
-still possible!
-in a 12 year old male?
-What other, more likely, possibilities are
there?
-Many.
leishmaniasis? filariasis?
-are we in Calcutta?
Multiple Neurofibramotosis?
-test for it
Chase sn= wrote the book on autoimmune
Jn=Blonde.
Disease of the week: Unknown. Autoimmune + Anthrax?
POA:
-Steroids- swelling
-100 mg cytoxan- autoimmune
It was dark in the lab. He could only just see her hands from the light of the monitor.
You should talk to him, you know.
If you like my dad so much, said Chase, why don't you go out with him?
I'd make a great stepmother, said Allison, smirking at him. I'm very lenient.
He turned his head away, staring determinedly at the computer screen. She grabbed at his arm.
What is it? she asked, angrily. What is so bad you can't talk to him about it?
When he didn't reply, she continued, hands shaking slightly.
He beat you. He beat your mom. What is i-
Chase swung around to face her fully. You see how I'm ignoring you? he said, angry again. It means I don't want to talk about this.
If you were a-b-u-s-e-d as a kid- she started again.
You'd like that, wouldn't you? he snapped. A lovely little tragedy for you to fuss over.
They sat in the dark for a few minutes, both too angry with the other to say anything. Chase ended up coughing up an apology first. It was weakened by the fact that he immediately followed it with a very firm "I don't want to talk about it''. Allison didn't take the hint.
You should, though-
Well, I'm not going to so you should drop it.
If you ever need to talk-
I'll hire a psychiatrist. Drop it.
She threw her hands up in the air, flopping back with just a shade of
melodrama
A second later Chase clicked his fingers to gain her attention- although she'd already heard the beep from the computer- and pointed at the screen, where the finished CT scan was flashing.
There's nothing there, he said.
House grinned at him wolfishly. Case solved, he said brightly, everything wrapped up in a neat little package
Chase glared. You're messing with me, aren't you.
Your inability to work with your father is messing with your job.
Before, Chase had looked tired and frustrated. Now, he was angry.
You're messing with my ability to do my job! he snapped.
Your face is messing with your ability to do your job.
Chase shut his eyes for several seconds. House could practically hear him counting to ten.
Look, you've been affecting my ability to solve the case. I'm a radiologist and I'm a good radiologist, if I wasn't you wouldn't have hired me. I just want to know why you weren't letting me put forward my opinion on this case-
I give you as much chance as Cameron and Foreman.
Chase just stared at him. The only reason you'd say something that stupid is that you want to see me say it. Do you want me to say it? I'm saying it. I need you to make special arrangements for me. I can't hear you, you retard.
Good. Now we've got that out of the way- What are all these daddy issues you have?
Why are you toying with me?
Toying? He snorted. I'm trying to get you pissed off. Might say something you wouldn't otherwise, and I can find out why you're so angry at your father.
You don't care about me, or my father. Why do you care?
It's a puzzle. Puzzles interest me.
You want me to help solve it? I don't care about him. Really. I don't hate him; I don't love him either. I'd rather not have anything to do with him. I don't care. It's been too long, he did too many things wrong. Will you let me do my job now?
House stared at him for a long moment.
He's dying, you know. Lung cancer. Thought you should know.
He never forgot how old Chase looked in that moment.
Not everyone's like you, was all he said.
His father had aged a great deal since their last meeting, his blonde hair whiter and thinner and his shoulders hunched just a little more, but Robert recognized the way he walked and the way he held his head.
"Hey!" he yelled.
But Rowan didn't turn. Fuck, this was embarrassing.
"HEY!"
But of course he wouldn't recognize his voice, wouldn't hear it either, not in the busy street. Opening car door- Fuck it. He grabbed a handful of pebbles and tossed them across the street. Of course, every single one missed Rowan- but one pinged off the back of the taxi, and his father turned to see where it had come from.
His father crudely spelt out words with his hands, self conscious and
stuttering.
Chase didn't know if he'd miss him when he was gone, or only miss the opportunities he'd missed, but when the taxi drove off, all he could bring himself to feel was relieved.
And then... oddly liberated.
He confronted House the next day.
Don't you dare disguise what you've been doing as looking out for me. You don't give a shit about me. You don't give a shit about anyone. You just pretend it's about teaching me a lesson because you want me to be just as miserable as you. But I am not ashamed to be what I am. That's the difference between me and you. You- you just soak in self pity over your fucking leg and its pathetic, it's absolutely pathetic but I'm proud to be what I am and no-one will ever take that away from me.
Now don't you feel better? said House, smirking at him.
Chase stopped worrying then, about how much House had planned out, or how much he made up on the spot to make it look like he had everything premeditated. It didn't really matter- the guy was still an arse.
But he did feel better.
Author: ze_toaster
Pairings: None
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2185
AN: My author's note was so long, inane and uninteresting that I devoted an entire post to it! It consists entirely of apologies. You can go read it if you like; I'd rather you read the story. I wrote it for my sake rather than yours.
Prompt: 49. Chase has some disability. How would that effect him?
He stared for a full second, face completely blank.
Doctor Chase? A m-o-m-e-n-t of your t-i-m-e?
House thought for a second that Chase was going to say something, but he simply dropped the CT scan onto the table and disappeared out into the corridor without a word, verbal or otherwise.
Cameron and Foreman looked at each other. House cocked his head to one side. "These young doctors. No manners. It's like they don't care about people."
"My fault, probably," the stranger replied. It was an interesting accent- like he was talking from the back of his throat.
"He was just about to tell us something important, you realise. Or elaborate on it, really." House gave the gentleman an analytical stare.
"You're Chase's dad," he said. Chase Senior frowned, but tilted his head lightly in affirmation.
"I could tell," House clarified, "what with the big hug and how happy he was to see you." He sipped his coffee and smiled smugly.
The boys bolted as soon as he appeared. He held up a hand, calling after them.
If they noticed the strange quality to his voice, they didn't comment. He didn't catch all of what the taller one said, but the gesture towards the corner was clear enough.
He put on a face mask, looking for samples. He asked if either had been sick... Definitely a negative response, from both of them. Good thing, as he didn't know how he'd communicate with them about a more specific subject. He spotted some strange fibers, bagging them immediately-
He felt, rather than saw, the boys take a run for it, the floorboards trembling under the smaller one's combat boots. Glancing up, instantly alert, he had a glimpse of the second one disappearing out the door.
He dashed to the window. Out in the street, a policewoman was getting out of her car.
Chase put his leg over the window sill, grabbing at the tree branch. He slipped, of course, crashing into the leafy undergrowth one story below, bashing his head painfully on a tree root.
He should have known better. How old did he think he was, twelve?
Hobbling slightly, he sidled around to the back of the house, before ducking out through a hole in the fence.
It's made of animal hair, he told House. I was right. We can keep him on L-e-v-a-q-u-i-n.
He's not on L-e-v-a-q-u-i-n, House replied.
The look on his face, House thought, was priceless. And of course it was exaggerated, which made it even better.
Why? Why didn't you-
Ooh, I don't know, House said airily. We couldn't really be sure, without a sample and all.
L. is a wide spectrum- Anthrax is . . . a few hours make a LOT OF DIFFERENCE. You know that- Chase stopped. There's a point, isn't there, he said flatly. There's always a point. You're going to give me some new information, and suddenly you'll look smart.
House grinned. Bravo, he said.
Chase raised his eyebrows, but House didn't say anything more. He spun around and stalked out.
"Chase!" House snapped. He picked up a pen and flicked it at his retreating back. It bounced of the back of his head. Chase swung around instantly, furious. House grinned at that.
I've told you before, if you want my attention you-
Chase, he said sharply. I put the kid on L-e-v. as soon as you left.
Oh.
And if you ever walk out in the middle of the D-D-X again, you're fired. Even if Daddy is at the door.
Uh-huh, Chase said, and walked out again. You couldn't really storm out twice.
House glared. Damn. He hadn't asked why they'd gone through the pointless exchange. A pity, as he had the answer already in his head, the delivery all sorted out.
Experimentation.
I need to see the file
House gave a long sigh. "You don't need to see the file. You want to see the file. There is a big difference."
Chase paused, staring intently at his face. I know I've already seen it- he began hesitantly. I need to see it again.
"WRONG!" House said gleefully. Chase frowned.
"Stop it, House," Cameron said. Chase turned his head and glared suspiciously at her.
Foreman by this time had actually gotten the file, and tossed it down. Chase reacted too late, scrabbling as it hit the table.
He was embarrassed now, blush dusting his cheeks and the tips of his ears.
They spent an uncomfortable 15 minutes of silence waiting for Rowan to turn up. House, of course, reveled in uncomfortable moments, and spent the whole time humming to himself.
"So, you're telling me this boy has Anthrax and is allergic to two antibiotics. Hate to step on anybody's toes, but is it possible that you guys got this one wrong?"
Chase typed something on his laptop, spinning it around so his father could see.
Rowan raised his eyebrows. "Except for the colour."
They usually had a system that worked out quite well, with House writing most of the DDX up on the board and Chase lip-reading or guessing the rest, signing or typing his opinions on the case back to the rest of them.
With a stranger thrown into the mix, the balance tipped, and he started to fall behind.
"It's not black," Cameron said. "No necrosis, no anthrax."
"So, back to the beginning," House said. "What do the throat nodules tell us?"
"Sarcoidosis."
"Send an ACE level. If it comes back positive- "
The mediastinum's still widened- Chase butted in.
You sure are holding onto that diagnosis, House said, smirking.
Necrosis can take as long as two weeks. There was animal hair in a place he'd fallen and cut his skin.
House went over the top of him. "So, you're saying this kid has anthrax and sarcoidosis?"
"Or an anthrax and an allergic reaction," Cameron interrupted.
"Two," said House. "Two allergic reactions."
"Which is about as likely as Anthrax and Sarcoidosis," said Foreman.
"Which is a very small chance," said Rowan, somewhat needlessly.
"I live for the undocumented," said House. "Anyway, they don't need to be unrelated. One could have set of the other."
Chase suddenly slammed his hand onto the glass conference table. Everyone stared at him.
We've been over this before, he said angrily. If you want my input, you're going to have to slow down.
House sneered immediately. You said when I hired you that this wouldn't be an issue.
Cameron glared at him. "You're baiting. Stop it."
"Can we get on with the differential?" Foreman asked.
"No, we're dealing with this," sniped Cameron.
Chase signed angrily. I don't need your pity, he snapped at Cameron.
"This isn't constructive," she said.
"Will you both-"
House suddenly slammed his cane into the table. So hard, in fact, that the glass shattered, forming a neat cobweb of hairline cracks.
They all stared at it for a moment. There was a long pause.
"Oops," said House.
The sores puckered all over his back and neck, hideously deforming once smooth skin.
"What is it?" asked the mother weakly.
"I don't know," said Foreman.
FUGLY SKIN LESIONS
Auto immune:
-too agro
-still possible!
-in a 12 year old male?
-What other, more likely, possibilities are
there?
-Many.
leishmaniasis? filariasis?
-are we in Calcutta?
Multiple Neurofibramotosis?
-test for it
Chase sn= wrote the book on autoimmune
Jn=Blonde.
Disease of the week: Unknown. Autoimmune + Anthrax?
POA:
-Steroids- swelling
-100 mg cytoxan- autoimmune
It was dark in the lab. He could only just see her hands from the light of the monitor.
You should talk to him, you know.
If you like my dad so much, said Chase, why don't you go out with him?
I'd make a great stepmother, said Allison, smirking at him. I'm very lenient.
He turned his head away, staring determinedly at the computer screen. She grabbed at his arm.
What is it? she asked, angrily. What is so bad you can't talk to him about it?
When he didn't reply, she continued, hands shaking slightly.
He beat you. He beat your mom. What is i-
Chase swung around to face her fully. You see how I'm ignoring you? he said, angry again. It means I don't want to talk about this.
If you were a-b-u-s-e-d as a kid- she started again.
You'd like that, wouldn't you? he snapped. A lovely little tragedy for you to fuss over.
They sat in the dark for a few minutes, both too angry with the other to say anything. Chase ended up coughing up an apology first. It was weakened by the fact that he immediately followed it with a very firm "I don't want to talk about it''. Allison didn't take the hint.
You should, though-
Well, I'm not going to so you should drop it.
If you ever need to talk-
I'll hire a psychiatrist. Drop it.
She threw her hands up in the air, flopping back with just a shade of
melodrama
A second later Chase clicked his fingers to gain her attention- although she'd already heard the beep from the computer- and pointed at the screen, where the finished CT scan was flashing.
There's nothing there, he said.
House grinned at him wolfishly. Case solved, he said brightly, everything wrapped up in a neat little package
Chase glared. You're messing with me, aren't you.
Your inability to work with your father is messing with your job.
Before, Chase had looked tired and frustrated. Now, he was angry.
You're messing with my ability to do my job! he snapped.
Your face is messing with your ability to do your job.
Chase shut his eyes for several seconds. House could practically hear him counting to ten.
Look, you've been affecting my ability to solve the case. I'm a radiologist and I'm a good radiologist, if I wasn't you wouldn't have hired me. I just want to know why you weren't letting me put forward my opinion on this case-
I give you as much chance as Cameron and Foreman.
Chase just stared at him. The only reason you'd say something that stupid is that you want to see me say it. Do you want me to say it? I'm saying it. I need you to make special arrangements for me. I can't hear you, you retard.
Good. Now we've got that out of the way- What are all these daddy issues you have?
Why are you toying with me?
Toying? He snorted. I'm trying to get you pissed off. Might say something you wouldn't otherwise, and I can find out why you're so angry at your father.
You don't care about me, or my father. Why do you care?
It's a puzzle. Puzzles interest me.
You want me to help solve it? I don't care about him. Really. I don't hate him; I don't love him either. I'd rather not have anything to do with him. I don't care. It's been too long, he did too many things wrong. Will you let me do my job now?
House stared at him for a long moment.
He's dying, you know. Lung cancer. Thought you should know.
He never forgot how old Chase looked in that moment.
Not everyone's like you, was all he said.
His father had aged a great deal since their last meeting, his blonde hair whiter and thinner and his shoulders hunched just a little more, but Robert recognized the way he walked and the way he held his head.
"Hey!" he yelled.
But Rowan didn't turn. Fuck, this was embarrassing.
"HEY!"
But of course he wouldn't recognize his voice, wouldn't hear it either, not in the busy street. Opening car door- Fuck it. He grabbed a handful of pebbles and tossed them across the street. Of course, every single one missed Rowan- but one pinged off the back of the taxi, and his father turned to see where it had come from.
His father crudely spelt out words with his hands, self conscious and
stuttering.
Chase didn't know if he'd miss him when he was gone, or only miss the opportunities he'd missed, but when the taxi drove off, all he could bring himself to feel was relieved.
And then... oddly liberated.
He confronted House the next day.
Don't you dare disguise what you've been doing as looking out for me. You don't give a shit about me. You don't give a shit about anyone. You just pretend it's about teaching me a lesson because you want me to be just as miserable as you. But I am not ashamed to be what I am. That's the difference between me and you. You- you just soak in self pity over your fucking leg and its pathetic, it's absolutely pathetic but I'm proud to be what I am and no-one will ever take that away from me.
Now don't you feel better? said House, smirking at him.
Chase stopped worrying then, about how much House had planned out, or how much he made up on the spot to make it look like he had everything premeditated. It didn't really matter- the guy was still an arse.
But he did feel better.