SUMMARY: Preparation for a hurricane.
CHARACTERS: Chase, House
RATING: R for language and themes.
WARNINGS: Details the aftermath of events in Bad Company, a rough, violent story. Aftermath isn't always pretty; may distress some readers. Adult themes and adult language.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. Never will.
NOTES: The pieces of this shattered story are numbered. The first number signifies the number of days that have elapsed since the orginal event in Bad Company; the second number signifies when the fic occurs during that day.
House has picked up on the first ring of his phone, which is not right, and neither is the storm of agitation and anger in that one word. He's already in a hell of a mood, and that's only going to make everything worse.
"Wilson," Chase answers, and that's all he seems able to say. He stands there twisting one foot on the tile floor, hoping for the arrival of better words than the ones he's got. They don't come. He doesn't know how he's going to tell House the rest of it.
"Start talking, goddammit!"
"Coming in to the ER," Chase blurts, raising his voice above the rumble and white noise that's coming over the phone. "He's on his way, and it's bad, but they think—they don't know yet."
He hears a distant oh God, almost lost amidst the sounds of cars and a motorcycle as House's phone snaps shut. House is on the road. Chase is sure that he was already on the way to the hospital, already aware that something was badly wrong—who knows how. He's House; that's as much explanation as Chase needs.
Cuddy's down here waiting, pacing, a general in a pink skirt suit, hoping that she can do something to make their trauma team more efficient than it is. She can't, and that's a good thing. They're her hires and she chose them well. They need neither help nor supervision. Right now he imagines that she's just hoping Wilson will live, and not thinking too much about House. Chase isn't going to tell her what he knows: In a few more minutes, House will make landfall like a hurricane. It might be best if Wilson gets here first and is in surgery before House ever sees him. Or it might be the worst possible thing. With House everything is a gamble.
Chase thinks he can hear the sirens even now, faintly.
He watches the doors, crowded with people waiting to meet Wilson's ambulance. To Chase, they're a group of competent, concerned professionals who can help. House will see an obstacle course, a mob of idiots standing in his way. Chase knows all too well what can happen; he's been acquainted with House's potential for violence. He doesn't doubt for a moment that House is going to be trouble. Regardless of the problems between them, Wilson's still House's friend—the only real friend House has—and there was that wild, frenetic current in House's voice on the phone.
House has been angry with Wilson, but that won't matter now. All House will remember is that someone tried to kill one of his people, and not just any one of his people. This is not going to be a peaceful scene.
Chase picks up the phone again and punches in the code for security.