Nov. 6th, 2005 09:34 am
Title: Spiritual Healing
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Title: Spiritual Healing
Fandom: House M.D.
Pairing: slight House/Chase
Prompt: Spirit
Word Count: 1319
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: Chase’s faith is put to the test once more.
His pager goes off while he lists his sins in ascending order. He fumbles with the machine and he can feel disapproving eyes – ‘technology, Robert,’ stern nuns with rulers chastised, ‘is the work of the devil’ – directed straight at him. He checks the message, ‘DADDY NEEDS LOVING’ and scowls. He’d just been getting to the very sin in question, Dr. Greg House.
“I have to go,” Chase apologizes softly, myrrh and frankincense heavy all around him. He pushes aside the velvet curtain and leaves without his penance and on this trip to the church, just like all the others, he feels no reassuring promise of a deity-like being raining forgiveness down upon his shoulders.
His faith is still missing. He signs the cross with holy water, holy thumbprint pressed to his forehead before leaving for the hospital, prayers and chants echoing in his head as he goes. House is playing with his yo-yo when Chase returns; Cameron and Foreman are nowhere to be found.
“You know, your pages border on sexual harassment,” Chase tells him, hands on his hips like the world’s most pathetic superhero.
“You’d never tell on me,” House remarks confidently. “I have faith in my good little lapdog.” Chase flinches at that, but he pulls his reaction as best as possible. “Besides, we needed you here for the patient.”
“She hasn’t crashed,” he says stubbornly. “You didn’t need me. I was in the middle of something.”
House pauses at that and Chase instantly knows he’s made a mistake. He spits out the, “nothing!” just as House asks, “what were you doing?” They spend a moment in mutual silence as House raises an eyebrow slowly, clearly amused by Chase’s eager response. Chase curses himself silently for being so jumpy.
“You could have at least lied.”
“I was running errands,” he offers.
“I don’t believe you.” Chase stands, his grip on his hips tightening just slightly and he just waits for House to dole out temporary reprieve or for him to continue the punishment. “Our patient is a very religious woman. Catholic,” he provides. “I want you to take lead on this case.”
“Why?” he demands.
House’s brusqueness vanishes for just a moment, that sly and witty smile lingering on his lips. “You understand her. Her name’s Donna McCreedy. She’s dying.”
*
As he stands outside the patient’s room, lingering in thought, he wonders if he’s just been asked to perform a strange version of Last Rites. The patient, Donna, who makes sure to smile at every nurse and doctor, is so polite and pretty on the outside while her body decays and dies on the inside. The nurses all leave and Donna clasps a silver rosary and in his mind, he whispers along as he enters the room, the prayers always in the backdrop and sometimes, they’re so loud in his mind that Chase swears that someone is hidden, chanting the Lord’s prayer.
“Morning,” he greets her. Holy Mary, Mother of God. “I’m Dr. Chase. I’ll be the primary from now on.” Pray for us sinners, now… She smiles up at him and clasps his hand, the rosary beads cold against his fingers.
“Do you believe in God, Dr. Chase?” …and in the hour of our death.
He remembers Sister Augustine’s words, can’t hate God if you don’t believe in him and he gives one small nod. “I do, yes.” Maybe it’s the rosary urging the truth out of him, but he squeezes her hand and murmurs, “I’m Catholic too.”
She smiles with relief and she whispers, “thank you, God,” in a way that puts Chase ill at ease. He’s no one’s saviour, just a deceivingly light-looking Angel of Death.
*
“Where have you been? I give you lead and you disappear for two hours!” House gripes – this time, in front of Cameron and Foreman both. “Did you run out for a new reward to pat yourself on the back?”
“I was with the patient,” he tersely answers, not in the mood.
“Braiding her hair? She’s dying, don’t be with the patient, find her a cure!”
“She wanted to say the rosary,” he snaps back, arms crossed. “And Cameron and Foreman were running tests. You’re right, she’s dying. Indulging her faith is the least we can do.”
House stares him down and Chase stares back and for one brief moment, Chase panics that House will know where he was when he was paged, what he was confessing. But it’s a thankfully fleeting moment and then it’s gone. “It takes you two hours to say the rosary?” House eventually retorts and Chase is just annoyed enough to dare a retort.
“It took me longer. I had to pray for patience with my boss.” His teeth are gritted and Foreman looks like he’s trying so hard not to laugh.
House smirks. “Did it work?”
“No.”
“Divine Intervention, 0. Me, 1.”
*
She’s slipping away by the evening and Chase is present when she receives her Last Rites with her family surrounding her. He’s got drugs in his hands, drugs he’ll advance with when the priest leaves. While in seminary, he’d observed Last Rites far too often, remembered one old priest who embraced death warmly. “If it’s Satan I find,” he’d remarked wryly, “I’ll tell him you’re all coming.”
Chase laughs at the memory and masks it with a cough. The prayers trail off and that’s the last spiritual solace she’ll get. Now, it’s up to Chase to save her body since her soul is taken care of. He takes the first step forward to do his job and the family leaves him be.
Donna continues to whisper the Lord’s Prayer long after they’re gone and Chase is taking care of her. “Dr. Chase,” she whispers. “Dr. Chase, let me go. I’ve made my peace with God. Let me die.”
“I’m trying to save your life,” he mumbles, hooking up another drip, but her surprisingly steady hand stops him.
“Don’t,” she protests. “Let me go.”
Chase swallows the lump in his throat and hooks up the saline drip anyway, gently prying her hand off of him and resting it back on the bed.
*
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” Chase murmurs the words, easy and natural now. He leans against the grating, as though too tired to actually make the effort of sitting up straight, his words quiet and dull.
“Are you doing to finish this time, son?” Father Pierce, the only one Chase likes at the parish, never chastises him for not having enough faith and always listens.
Chase chuckles ruefully. “My boss paged me.”
“The esteemed Dr. House,” Father Pierce says knowingly. “Are you still struggling with him, Robert, to understand why you feel the way you do?”
“Yes,” Chase admits, “but there’s a different…reason I’m here tonight. It’s a patient.” He trails off and lets the silence wash over him, lets it calm him. “She had her Last Rites, she asked me to let her die. I continued treatment, I went against the patient’s wishes.” He sighs, folding his hands in his lap. “I don’t have faith that God would forgive me or her if I let her die like that.”
Story of his life, he doesn’t have enough faith.
“Robert,” Father Pierce finally speaks. “Faith only goes so far.” Chase waits, because there’s always a ‘but’. “In this case, presented with this choice, you made the right decision.” He doesn’t feel forgiven, but he feels relieved. “One rosary,” Father Pierce says. “For your penance.”
Chase nods and murmurs his thanks, sliding out of the confession booth. Instead of going home or staying in the church, he goes back to the hospital and he prays the rosary at midnight while holding Donna’s hand.
She’s dead in the morning, but her faith is strong as ever when she goes.
Chase’s faith is struggling, but it’s still there, the glimmer of what it used to be.
end
Fandom: House M.D.
Pairing: slight House/Chase
Prompt: Spirit
Word Count: 1319
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: Chase’s faith is put to the test once more.
His pager goes off while he lists his sins in ascending order. He fumbles with the machine and he can feel disapproving eyes – ‘technology, Robert,’ stern nuns with rulers chastised, ‘is the work of the devil’ – directed straight at him. He checks the message, ‘DADDY NEEDS LOVING’ and scowls. He’d just been getting to the very sin in question, Dr. Greg House.
“I have to go,” Chase apologizes softly, myrrh and frankincense heavy all around him. He pushes aside the velvet curtain and leaves without his penance and on this trip to the church, just like all the others, he feels no reassuring promise of a deity-like being raining forgiveness down upon his shoulders.
His faith is still missing. He signs the cross with holy water, holy thumbprint pressed to his forehead before leaving for the hospital, prayers and chants echoing in his head as he goes. House is playing with his yo-yo when Chase returns; Cameron and Foreman are nowhere to be found.
“You know, your pages border on sexual harassment,” Chase tells him, hands on his hips like the world’s most pathetic superhero.
“You’d never tell on me,” House remarks confidently. “I have faith in my good little lapdog.” Chase flinches at that, but he pulls his reaction as best as possible. “Besides, we needed you here for the patient.”
“She hasn’t crashed,” he says stubbornly. “You didn’t need me. I was in the middle of something.”
House pauses at that and Chase instantly knows he’s made a mistake. He spits out the, “nothing!” just as House asks, “what were you doing?” They spend a moment in mutual silence as House raises an eyebrow slowly, clearly amused by Chase’s eager response. Chase curses himself silently for being so jumpy.
“You could have at least lied.”
“I was running errands,” he offers.
“I don’t believe you.” Chase stands, his grip on his hips tightening just slightly and he just waits for House to dole out temporary reprieve or for him to continue the punishment. “Our patient is a very religious woman. Catholic,” he provides. “I want you to take lead on this case.”
“Why?” he demands.
House’s brusqueness vanishes for just a moment, that sly and witty smile lingering on his lips. “You understand her. Her name’s Donna McCreedy. She’s dying.”
*
As he stands outside the patient’s room, lingering in thought, he wonders if he’s just been asked to perform a strange version of Last Rites. The patient, Donna, who makes sure to smile at every nurse and doctor, is so polite and pretty on the outside while her body decays and dies on the inside. The nurses all leave and Donna clasps a silver rosary and in his mind, he whispers along as he enters the room, the prayers always in the backdrop and sometimes, they’re so loud in his mind that Chase swears that someone is hidden, chanting the Lord’s prayer.
“Morning,” he greets her. Holy Mary, Mother of God. “I’m Dr. Chase. I’ll be the primary from now on.” Pray for us sinners, now… She smiles up at him and clasps his hand, the rosary beads cold against his fingers.
“Do you believe in God, Dr. Chase?” …and in the hour of our death.
He remembers Sister Augustine’s words, can’t hate God if you don’t believe in him and he gives one small nod. “I do, yes.” Maybe it’s the rosary urging the truth out of him, but he squeezes her hand and murmurs, “I’m Catholic too.”
She smiles with relief and she whispers, “thank you, God,” in a way that puts Chase ill at ease. He’s no one’s saviour, just a deceivingly light-looking Angel of Death.
*
“Where have you been? I give you lead and you disappear for two hours!” House gripes – this time, in front of Cameron and Foreman both. “Did you run out for a new reward to pat yourself on the back?”
“I was with the patient,” he tersely answers, not in the mood.
“Braiding her hair? She’s dying, don’t be with the patient, find her a cure!”
“She wanted to say the rosary,” he snaps back, arms crossed. “And Cameron and Foreman were running tests. You’re right, she’s dying. Indulging her faith is the least we can do.”
House stares him down and Chase stares back and for one brief moment, Chase panics that House will know where he was when he was paged, what he was confessing. But it’s a thankfully fleeting moment and then it’s gone. “It takes you two hours to say the rosary?” House eventually retorts and Chase is just annoyed enough to dare a retort.
“It took me longer. I had to pray for patience with my boss.” His teeth are gritted and Foreman looks like he’s trying so hard not to laugh.
House smirks. “Did it work?”
“No.”
“Divine Intervention, 0. Me, 1.”
*
She’s slipping away by the evening and Chase is present when she receives her Last Rites with her family surrounding her. He’s got drugs in his hands, drugs he’ll advance with when the priest leaves. While in seminary, he’d observed Last Rites far too often, remembered one old priest who embraced death warmly. “If it’s Satan I find,” he’d remarked wryly, “I’ll tell him you’re all coming.”
Chase laughs at the memory and masks it with a cough. The prayers trail off and that’s the last spiritual solace she’ll get. Now, it’s up to Chase to save her body since her soul is taken care of. He takes the first step forward to do his job and the family leaves him be.
Donna continues to whisper the Lord’s Prayer long after they’re gone and Chase is taking care of her. “Dr. Chase,” she whispers. “Dr. Chase, let me go. I’ve made my peace with God. Let me die.”
“I’m trying to save your life,” he mumbles, hooking up another drip, but her surprisingly steady hand stops him.
“Don’t,” she protests. “Let me go.”
Chase swallows the lump in his throat and hooks up the saline drip anyway, gently prying her hand off of him and resting it back on the bed.
*
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” Chase murmurs the words, easy and natural now. He leans against the grating, as though too tired to actually make the effort of sitting up straight, his words quiet and dull.
“Are you doing to finish this time, son?” Father Pierce, the only one Chase likes at the parish, never chastises him for not having enough faith and always listens.
Chase chuckles ruefully. “My boss paged me.”
“The esteemed Dr. House,” Father Pierce says knowingly. “Are you still struggling with him, Robert, to understand why you feel the way you do?”
“Yes,” Chase admits, “but there’s a different…reason I’m here tonight. It’s a patient.” He trails off and lets the silence wash over him, lets it calm him. “She had her Last Rites, she asked me to let her die. I continued treatment, I went against the patient’s wishes.” He sighs, folding his hands in his lap. “I don’t have faith that God would forgive me or her if I let her die like that.”
Story of his life, he doesn’t have enough faith.
“Robert,” Father Pierce finally speaks. “Faith only goes so far.” Chase waits, because there’s always a ‘but’. “In this case, presented with this choice, you made the right decision.” He doesn’t feel forgiven, but he feels relieved. “One rosary,” Father Pierce says. “For your penance.”
Chase nods and murmurs his thanks, sliding out of the confession booth. Instead of going home or staying in the church, he goes back to the hospital and he prays the rosary at midnight while holding Donna’s hand.
She’s dead in the morning, but her faith is strong as ever when she goes.
Chase’s faith is struggling, but it’s still there, the glimmer of what it used to be.
end
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Thanks for reading!
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Yeah, I've got nothing, just, the usual 'I love it' from me thanks.
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