Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind
Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster
About to enter the room with Mr. Smith, Chase turned around to see Cameron jogging towards him. "Yeah?"
She stopped by his side, an expression of apology on her face. "I blew you off before. I'm sorry. Do you want to talk now?"
"Now?" Chase glanced back at the exam room, then back at her. "I've got a patient."
"It's clinic, it's probably a cold." Her tone and expression seemed sincere, like she really did want to talk.
Chase checked his watch, thinking. He couldn't leave his patient after just calling him, but… "Can we talk at lunch or something? I mean–"
"House asked me to lunch." She interrupted him.
"Oh." Chase looked at her, surprised. So much for taking things a step further with her. "He asked you?"
"Yeah. It was a big surprise."
"I would be… You should be… " Chase couldn't bring himself to say 'worried' or 'careful' because that would upset Cameron, sending her into one of her 'I don't need protecting' moods. "Have fun." He said, and turned back to deal with 'Mr. Smith'.
"What did you want to talk about?" she pressed, taking a step forward.
"Nothing. It can wait."
"Oh. Okay." She paused. "Why were you at another hospital's convention?"
Ah– so that's why she wants to talk, Chase thought. "I was asked to go."
"Like a date?" her tone seemed casual, but there was a hint of something else…
"You could say that." Chase said. He felt a surge of annoyance when he saw a flicker of jealousy in Cameron's eyes– what did she think, she could go out with whoever she wanted but he couldn't go out with anyone?
She nodded. "That Dr. Peney you told Cuddy about?"
"Yeah. That Dr. Peney." He replied. "House wasn't too happy she was with me."
"House was there?" Cameron looked shocked.
"Yeah, with Cuddy." He was being mean, and he knew it. He could see the hurt in Cameron's eyes. "Kind of a shock to see them. Together. Outside of work. Makes you wonder, doesn't it?"
Cameron hurried off, muttering a barely audible: "I've got to go."
Somehow the feeling of satisfaction he thought he would feel didn't come. Chase watched her retreating form; he had meant to get back at her for going out with House, and given her expression he supposed he had. Still, it didn't feel like a victory.
Entering the exam room Chase opened the patient's folder and read the information: 'Mr. John Smith'. Fake name, Chase thought to himself. Big guy at six feet and seven inches, two hundred and seventy pounds. Complaining of a cold.
"So Mr. Smith, what seems to be the problem?" Chase asked as he turned his back to the patient to close the door.
Something shoved him forward into the hard surface of the door, the sudden pain in his bruised cheek and eye vanishing as the cold metal of a gun pressed against his temple. His pager fell off his belt and skidded under the counter.
"The problem is that you forgot your rules, son." The man hissed.
Guy's gotta be off his rocker, Chase thought, his bruised cheek throbbing. "All right– it's alright, why don't we–" he immediately regretted his attempts to pacify the man as he was slammed harder against the door.
"Shut it. It's obvious I can't trust you by yourself. I've got to teach you the rules. What it means to be a good son."
"Look, this isn't neces–"
"Shut up." He pressed the gun harder against Chases head for emphasis. Chase squeezed his eyes shut. The man's voice was low, hot breath blowing against his ear. "We are going to go out of this room together, and you will sign out. You will be nice and quiet. Smile at the nurse on duty. We will then walk out of the hospital. Try to alert anyone, and I'll start shooting. The clinic is full. Lots of little kids. You'd hate to see them hurt. You understand?"
'Mr. Smith' moved back and hid the gun in the pocket of his jacket. "Lets go."
'Mr. Smith' kept back just enough to not look suspicious. Chase's hands were shaking slightly, whether from adrenaline or fear or both he couldn't tell. He couldn't believe that no one noticed them. Doreen, the nurse on duty was flipping through a magazine, sighing in her boredom. She barely acknowledged his presence as he signed out.
"Leaving so soon?"
"House paged." Was his answer, offered with an amazingly calm smile. He was impressed he could still talk; his throat felt so tight. He walked away and 'Mr. Smith' pressed close to him, his hovering presence a making the hair on the back of Chase's neck prickle. Then 'Mr. Smith' backed off. Chase looked behind to see why.
Chase's heart jumped into his mouth and the bottom of his stomach dropped out. "House!"
House limped up to him. "Skipping out on clinic hours?"
Help me– notice something's wrong– On second thought, get away House! There's a mad man behind me with a gun! His lips felt dry as he fought to appear calm, his thoughts racing. "No."
House stopped right in front of his youngest duckling and eyed him. "You look pale."
Chase ducked his head and glanced to one side. "I'm fine."
"You don't look–" House stopped, his eyes catching movement, and his lips pursed. "Uh oh."
"House! Why aren't you in clinic?" Cuddy demanded as she marched through the lobby towards them.
"Chase stole my name tag." House announced without pause.
Chase numbly handed the nametag to House, painfully aware of a dark presence hovering just behind him. While House and Cuddy engaged in their usual 'discussion', 'Mr. Smith' came up again and bumped into Chase's left arm, pushing him forward. They managed to leave the hospital without further incident. Part of Chase felt relieved; no one got hurt– that was good. Yet he was being kidnapped by a crazy man! And no one noticed!
They made their way out into the parking lot, and now that they were away from people Chase frantically began to think of a way of escape. He could try running, but there wasn't much for cover. He'd be shot before he could get anywhere.
A sharp blow to the back of his head sent him sprawling, and just as darkness descended he was aware of 'Mr. Smith' bending over him.
I can't move! Were Chase's first thoughts as he started to crawl his way back to consciousness. The realization made him panic. Not only could he not move, but he couldn't remember why he couldn't move; and why was it so dark?
His eyes started to adjust to the dark: he was tied to a chair, and his hands were taped to the arms. His head hurt, especially when he tried to move it. Tape across his lips made his mouth feel extremely dry. Glancing around he was able to ascertain that the door was directly behind him, and he was in a… pantry? No, a closet– above his head he could see the rods for hanging clothes on. He heard footsteps behind the door, and his blood froze, the bottom of his stomach dropping out; all of a sudden the room felt too small. He couldn't breathe. His heart beat painfully fast as the door handle moved. He tried to will himself to breathe, but abandoned those efforts when the door opened. Screw being calm– panic! Panic was good! Panic was– No. Panic was bad. He had to be calm. Be calm.
"Calm down, Robbie. This is for your own good." 'Mr. Smith' said as he approached the bound man. "You have nothing to be afraid of."
Screw being calm.