[fic: New Jersey Winter (2/3)]
title: New Jersey Winter (2/3)
fandom: house
rating: pg
a/n: OMG FINALLY, RIGHT?
chase and foreman, themes of mortality; no pairings
Foreman takes five vacation days and comes back looking worse. Chase thinks he knows why.
Part One
Part Two
Chase's phone must have rang sometime around two in the morning, but he'd been (for once) blissfully asleep. All he had to go on was the "missed call" message with Foreman's number and timestamps that suggested Foreman had dialed, then immediately hung up.
So a little after six a.m., Chase rolled out of bed and called him back.
"I missed your call," Chase said, to Foreman's somewhat confused 'hullo?'.
"Oh that," said Foreman, "Yeah uh…it snowed eight more inches last night."
The newspaper could have told him that. "Yeah?"
"I can't get my car out," Foreman said. "Can you give me a lift to work?"
"That's what you called about? In the middle of the night?"
There was a pause on the other end. "Well, you keep weird hours."
That was fair, Chase supposed. But still…
"So can you?" Foreman asked again.
"Sorry, mate-I don't drive when it's like this."
"Really?" Foreman sounded genuinely surprised.
"Never got much practice. We don't get a lot of snow in Melbourne." Chase didn't add that he'd never mastered the art of putting chains on his tires either.
"Oh," said Foreman, "okay. I'll call a cab then. Thanks anyway."
***
Chase took the bus to work and was forty minutes late.
"Sorry," he said, trying to duck under House's (perhaps affected) glare.
"Hair dryer on the fritz?" House asked.
"Buses were late," said Chase, "You may not have noticed, but the weather's been a little unpredictable lately."
"It's New Jersey," House said, "It snows."
Chase gave his coat a shake before hanging it on the coat rack in the corner. Behind him, the door swung open.
"Ah," said House, "My minions have returned. Tell me you've got something good."
Cameron and Foreman looked equally exhausted, blue patient files dangling from their hands.
"Well there's a girl in Peds with a black tongue," Cameron said.
"Black-black or purple-black?"
"Purple-black."
"She vomiting?"
Cameron flipped open the file. "She was. Stomach flu."
"Symptom of yarfing up Pepto Bismal," House said. "Next."
"Patient presenting with strange rash on the upper lip," Foreman offered.
"Woman?"
"Yes?"
"Dark hair, pale skin?"
"I think so."
"Mustache?"
"Wait, what?" Cameron interrupted.
"You," House said to her, "Are fortunate enough not to have one. This woman, not so much. So she had the brilliant idea to bleach it. Or maybe to wax it. Who knows what she used. Give her some cream." House turned to Foreman. "And you…you knew that, didn't you?"
"House," Foreman said tiredly, "There's no case for you. You're going to have to go work in the clinic."
"Less than useless," House muttered, pushing past his team then heading in the entirely wrong direction for the clinic. Cameron shook her head.
"Nice of you to show up, Chase," she said, shouldering past to get to the coffee pot.
"What did I do?"
Foreman found a seat at the table. "It's been a long morning."
"House is on the warpath," Cameron said.
"Why?"
"Do we ever know?"
"This is ridiculous," Foreman said, with enough fervor to pull Chase and Cameron's attention from their inane conversation. "Dealing with House is bad enough when we have a patient-I'm sick of sitting around and waiting for Cuddy to let him out of the dog house!"
"Wanna play Parcheesi?" Chase offered lamely.
Foreman ignored him. "I'm not even sure I can work here anymore."
He was out the door before Chase had time to say "Parcheesi" again.
"What's gotten into him?" Cameron asked no one in particular, licking the sugar from her coffee stirrer. "Isn't House like this all the time?"
"He's…" Chase started before realizing he wasn't sure where it was going. Upset? Distracted? Mourning? "He's…y'know, Foreman."
Cameron laughed lightly. "I'm going to head down to the clinic. I'll have Brenda switch my shift with House."
Chase rose to his feet. "And I'm going to, uh…" Find Foreman. "PICU. They were short staffed yesterday because of…the snow."
"Dying children. Wow." Cameron offered a little close mouthed smile as she held the door. "What a way to start the day."
Chase decided that next time he might need a better alibi.
Had he even set foot in PICU in the last six months?
Cameron could have been watching him, so he figured he might as well swing by PICU so they could turn him away, tell him they had plenty of doctors, thanks, but please get out of the way…
But of course his timing was bad, and they didn't have enough doctors and before he really knew what was happening he was running alongside a gurney calling a code and checking the pulse of an eight year old girl while nurses rushed to hook up an IV, get the monitors in place, wheel in a crash cart…
***
When he was no longer thinking about Foreman, Chase had the luck to run into in the cafeteria, pushing a tray through the lunch line.
"Hey," said Chase cheerily.
"Where were you all morning?"
"PICU."
"Really."
Chase ignored his tone. "There was this little girl-car crash-we were so sure we were gonna lose her, it was like we were just going through the motions…but at the last minute her heart started and she started to breathe and her mother was so hysterical by that time that when she saw the kid was okay she just jumped on me and started kissing me."
Chase smiled, awaiting a reaction-he was in a damn good mood. But maybe Foreman needed a nudge.
"It was funny," Chase said, "I was only monitoring her vitals after all."
Still, Foreman seemed intent on selecting the best looking sandwich and for a second, Chase thought he hadn't heard him at all.
"Do you have any respect for life?" Foreman asked.
Chase's initial response came out like a laugh, though he hadn't intended it that way. "What?"
"You were 'going through the motions'?"
"Yeah, so?" Chase considered reaching across Foreman for the last bag of baked Lays, but thought better of it.
"Can you hear yourself? You sound worse than House. Do you even take people's lives seriously, or is this all just fun for you? It's all okay as long as you get to be the hero?"
Chase felt his mouth drop open. "It's PICU! I'm happy that no one died. Is there something wrong with that?"
Foreman shifted his eyes back to his lunch tray. "Nothing. Never mind."
"What the hell, Foreman?"
"I said never mind!" Foreman snapped up the chips Chase was eyeing and turned to smile at the cashier. "Hi."
"Separate or together?" she asked.
"It's together," Chase said quickly, grabbing his tray and making haste towards a table before Foreman could protest. Foreman was left at the counter, mouth and wallet both wide open, and Chase tried not to feel too bad about it.
Of course Foreman followed him-that was what he'd expected.
"Just because you read her obituary," Foreman said, clenching his jaw, "doesn't mean we're friends now; it doesn't mean I want to 'hang out.'"
Chase popped a piece of bagel into his mouth. "So…we weren't friends before then?"
Foreman snorted. "I don't need your fake sympathy, okay?"
"Who said anything about sympathy? I was hoping you'd share your chips."
"Are you trying to sound like House?"
"I'm trying to annoy you."
"Jesus Christ." Foreman slammed his tray down against the table. Chase was silent. Maybe Foreman was right-maybe he was completely incapable of sympathizing like a normal person. He hadn't intended to come off as an ass initially, but talking to Foreman-they knew too well how to push each others buttons. And if they weren't friends, that was all there was.
"I'm sorry," Chase tried.
Foreman was quiet for a second. "You owe me six dollars."
"Okay."
"Are you…" Foreman lifted his sandwich to his mouth but didn't take a bite. "Are you taking a cab home, or do you have a ride."
Chase shrugged. "The bus."
Foreman dropped the sandwich. "Really? You take the bus?"
"Only when I don't want to drive. What? What's so funny?"
"It's just…I don't know. You're so…"
"Rich? White?" Chase bit his lip to hide a smile that he didn't understand. He should be annoyed. He should get up and leave.
Foreman chuckled. "Something like that. Didn't seem like something you'd do."
"I have a bus pass and everything. Wanna see it?"
"I had to take the city bus to school when I was a kid. Some of the people I rode with…" Foreman shook his head. "Man, I'm surprised my parents allowed it. But they were working, so it was either that or walk."
"Not an experience you're eager to relive?" Chase asked.
Foreman cocked his head, like the question confused him. "I uh…I hadn't really thought about it." It made sense to Chase-if he'd had to do that as a kid maybe, he'd never want to by choice. Not when he had enough money for a car or a cab. But it wasn't a stigma to him-it hadn't ever struck him as such.
It was to Foreman.
"Some guy tried to give me his phone number yesterday," Chase said, "on the bus."
Foreman nearly choked on his sandwich. "Seriously?"
"He sat down next to me and wouldn't shut up. He was a lot older than House too." Chase laughed. "That's why it was funny, right?" He watched Foreman's eyes drop back to his lunch.
"Uh…" Foreman pushed his bag of chips across the table. "So I have to go back to Trenton this weekend."
"Yeah."
"Mom had all these cousins who're camped out in a motel now and they're taking care of Dad…they're doing this dinner thing, inviting friends over, doing a photo album or something. I don't know. But I'm supposed to be there."
"Okay."
"Uh, Chase?"
"Yeah?"
"You…can have the chips. I'm not hungry."
Chase watched Foreman get up, lift his tray, and he found himself staring rather hard at Foreman's sudden attempt to avoid his eyes. But he took the chips anyway.
"Thanks," said Chase.
***
Two days later, they had lunch together again.
And Foreman was talking about it, about her, about the elephant in the room. And Chase was holding his breath.
"It was so stupid. The way she died. So pointless-like, if I had been there…" Foreman paused, taking a deep breath, "I should have been there. You know?"
Chase almost laughed because it was so perfect; he could say "I know" and mean it. I felt exactly the same way. And there were other things he could say too, word for word repetitions of reassurances offered by therapists over the years. The same old "It's not your fault. There was nothing you could have done." But it all seemed too quaint for Foreman, sitting there and staring straight ahead with that strange intensity that could only mean I'm not going to cry about this.
So Chase just said, "Yeah," and they finished lunch in silence.
***
"So I've got her ashes in a jar," Foreman said when Chase picked up the phone. "My father isn't making a decision about what to do with them so it looks like it's my responsibility like everything else."
"Oh," Chase said, not entirely sure what Foreman was getting at.
"So I was thinking I might scatter them around the rose garden, because that was one of her favorite places. I might have to call some people about that. I don't know how it works."
"Are you sure you want to scatter them?" Chase asked.
"I'm not putting them on my mantel. I don't even have a mantel."
"You could get a plot in a cemetery. Some memorials have specific places for cremated…" Saying 'remains' here seemed a little inappropriate.
Foreman made a snorting sound. "Why?"
"So your family can have somewhere to go." Leave flowers. Pray.
"I don't know."
"Foreman, I've been to my mother's grave exactly twice and I've never even seen my father's. Having them buried in a whole 'nother continent is tough enough, but having nowhere to go…"
For a moment, the line was silent.
"Well, maybe," Foreman finally said.
"Do you want to grab dinner tonight?" Chase asked. "There's this pub just a few blocks down from my apartment-"
"It’s okay," said Foreman, "I'm fine."
"Didn't say you weren't. Come on. It'll be good to get out of the house." And, perhaps, good to get away from the urn.
"It's okay," Foreman said again. "I have to get some stuff done before tomorrow. But Chase?"
"Yeah?"
"The dinner thing Saturday night…I told you about it, right?"
"Yes?" Chase asked, drawing out the word, having trouble believing where Foreman was probably going with this.
"Do you want to go? I mean, it's been over a week of this and Dad is…I just need a sane presence in my life."-here, Foreman laughed at himself-"I'd ask Cameron, but she has her sister's thing this weekend."
"It won't be weird?"
"No. Yes. You know, never mind-forget I asked. You probably have plans, right?"
"No, it's okay," Chase said carefully, "I can go."
"You-really? Well…well the weather's supposed to be all right this weekend. We can take my car. Okay."
After Chase hung up he dug through his bag, dresser, and kitchen drawers until he found his brown notebook, just to make sure the article was still between the pages. Then he considered pinching himself. Foreman was supposed to hate him, Foreman was supposed to find him annoying. Chase was supposed to be annoying-he was supposed to be insincere, if sympathetic only for selfish, unvirtuous reasons. He'd been playing the part so long-like it was all Foreman would allow him to do.
Chase didn't flatter himself into thinking it was anything he had done to change Foreman's mind. Death changes everything-he just didn't like to think about that. And why was Chase involved anyway? Was this really even like what happened to his father, or to his mother? Or did none of that matter? Because it was something universal?
"Do you want me to bring anything?" Chase had asked.
"Don't worry about it," Foreman said, "I'm just…I'll see you tomorrow at four."
He didn't say thanks, but Chase heard it anyway.
Part Three
a/n: Apparently I suck at multi-parters. My output's kinda been all over the place, but hopefully y'all remember what happened in the first part. Also, this may be four parts instead of three because this chapter covered less time than I'd intended...
I'm not sure if this is the Foreman and Chase I usually write, but I kind of like them in this story :p Feedback appreciated as always!
fandom: house
rating: pg
a/n: OMG FINALLY, RIGHT?
chase and foreman, themes of mortality; no pairings
Foreman takes five vacation days and comes back looking worse. Chase thinks he knows why.
Part One
Part Two
Chase's phone must have rang sometime around two in the morning, but he'd been (for once) blissfully asleep. All he had to go on was the "missed call" message with Foreman's number and timestamps that suggested Foreman had dialed, then immediately hung up.
So a little after six a.m., Chase rolled out of bed and called him back.
"I missed your call," Chase said, to Foreman's somewhat confused 'hullo?'.
"Oh that," said Foreman, "Yeah uh…it snowed eight more inches last night."
The newspaper could have told him that. "Yeah?"
"I can't get my car out," Foreman said. "Can you give me a lift to work?"
"That's what you called about? In the middle of the night?"
There was a pause on the other end. "Well, you keep weird hours."
That was fair, Chase supposed. But still…
"So can you?" Foreman asked again.
"Sorry, mate-I don't drive when it's like this."
"Really?" Foreman sounded genuinely surprised.
"Never got much practice. We don't get a lot of snow in Melbourne." Chase didn't add that he'd never mastered the art of putting chains on his tires either.
"Oh," said Foreman, "okay. I'll call a cab then. Thanks anyway."
***
Chase took the bus to work and was forty minutes late.
"Sorry," he said, trying to duck under House's (perhaps affected) glare.
"Hair dryer on the fritz?" House asked.
"Buses were late," said Chase, "You may not have noticed, but the weather's been a little unpredictable lately."
"It's New Jersey," House said, "It snows."
Chase gave his coat a shake before hanging it on the coat rack in the corner. Behind him, the door swung open.
"Ah," said House, "My minions have returned. Tell me you've got something good."
Cameron and Foreman looked equally exhausted, blue patient files dangling from their hands.
"Well there's a girl in Peds with a black tongue," Cameron said.
"Black-black or purple-black?"
"Purple-black."
"She vomiting?"
Cameron flipped open the file. "She was. Stomach flu."
"Symptom of yarfing up Pepto Bismal," House said. "Next."
"Patient presenting with strange rash on the upper lip," Foreman offered.
"Woman?"
"Yes?"
"Dark hair, pale skin?"
"I think so."
"Mustache?"
"Wait, what?" Cameron interrupted.
"You," House said to her, "Are fortunate enough not to have one. This woman, not so much. So she had the brilliant idea to bleach it. Or maybe to wax it. Who knows what she used. Give her some cream." House turned to Foreman. "And you…you knew that, didn't you?"
"House," Foreman said tiredly, "There's no case for you. You're going to have to go work in the clinic."
"Less than useless," House muttered, pushing past his team then heading in the entirely wrong direction for the clinic. Cameron shook her head.
"Nice of you to show up, Chase," she said, shouldering past to get to the coffee pot.
"What did I do?"
Foreman found a seat at the table. "It's been a long morning."
"House is on the warpath," Cameron said.
"Why?"
"Do we ever know?"
"This is ridiculous," Foreman said, with enough fervor to pull Chase and Cameron's attention from their inane conversation. "Dealing with House is bad enough when we have a patient-I'm sick of sitting around and waiting for Cuddy to let him out of the dog house!"
"Wanna play Parcheesi?" Chase offered lamely.
Foreman ignored him. "I'm not even sure I can work here anymore."
He was out the door before Chase had time to say "Parcheesi" again.
"What's gotten into him?" Cameron asked no one in particular, licking the sugar from her coffee stirrer. "Isn't House like this all the time?"
"He's…" Chase started before realizing he wasn't sure where it was going. Upset? Distracted? Mourning? "He's…y'know, Foreman."
Cameron laughed lightly. "I'm going to head down to the clinic. I'll have Brenda switch my shift with House."
Chase rose to his feet. "And I'm going to, uh…" Find Foreman. "PICU. They were short staffed yesterday because of…the snow."
"Dying children. Wow." Cameron offered a little close mouthed smile as she held the door. "What a way to start the day."
Chase decided that next time he might need a better alibi.
Had he even set foot in PICU in the last six months?
Cameron could have been watching him, so he figured he might as well swing by PICU so they could turn him away, tell him they had plenty of doctors, thanks, but please get out of the way…
But of course his timing was bad, and they didn't have enough doctors and before he really knew what was happening he was running alongside a gurney calling a code and checking the pulse of an eight year old girl while nurses rushed to hook up an IV, get the monitors in place, wheel in a crash cart…
***
When he was no longer thinking about Foreman, Chase had the luck to run into in the cafeteria, pushing a tray through the lunch line.
"Hey," said Chase cheerily.
"Where were you all morning?"
"PICU."
"Really."
Chase ignored his tone. "There was this little girl-car crash-we were so sure we were gonna lose her, it was like we were just going through the motions…but at the last minute her heart started and she started to breathe and her mother was so hysterical by that time that when she saw the kid was okay she just jumped on me and started kissing me."
Chase smiled, awaiting a reaction-he was in a damn good mood. But maybe Foreman needed a nudge.
"It was funny," Chase said, "I was only monitoring her vitals after all."
Still, Foreman seemed intent on selecting the best looking sandwich and for a second, Chase thought he hadn't heard him at all.
"Do you have any respect for life?" Foreman asked.
Chase's initial response came out like a laugh, though he hadn't intended it that way. "What?"
"You were 'going through the motions'?"
"Yeah, so?" Chase considered reaching across Foreman for the last bag of baked Lays, but thought better of it.
"Can you hear yourself? You sound worse than House. Do you even take people's lives seriously, or is this all just fun for you? It's all okay as long as you get to be the hero?"
Chase felt his mouth drop open. "It's PICU! I'm happy that no one died. Is there something wrong with that?"
Foreman shifted his eyes back to his lunch tray. "Nothing. Never mind."
"What the hell, Foreman?"
"I said never mind!" Foreman snapped up the chips Chase was eyeing and turned to smile at the cashier. "Hi."
"Separate or together?" she asked.
"It's together," Chase said quickly, grabbing his tray and making haste towards a table before Foreman could protest. Foreman was left at the counter, mouth and wallet both wide open, and Chase tried not to feel too bad about it.
Of course Foreman followed him-that was what he'd expected.
"Just because you read her obituary," Foreman said, clenching his jaw, "doesn't mean we're friends now; it doesn't mean I want to 'hang out.'"
Chase popped a piece of bagel into his mouth. "So…we weren't friends before then?"
Foreman snorted. "I don't need your fake sympathy, okay?"
"Who said anything about sympathy? I was hoping you'd share your chips."
"Are you trying to sound like House?"
"I'm trying to annoy you."
"Jesus Christ." Foreman slammed his tray down against the table. Chase was silent. Maybe Foreman was right-maybe he was completely incapable of sympathizing like a normal person. He hadn't intended to come off as an ass initially, but talking to Foreman-they knew too well how to push each others buttons. And if they weren't friends, that was all there was.
"I'm sorry," Chase tried.
Foreman was quiet for a second. "You owe me six dollars."
"Okay."
"Are you…" Foreman lifted his sandwich to his mouth but didn't take a bite. "Are you taking a cab home, or do you have a ride."
Chase shrugged. "The bus."
Foreman dropped the sandwich. "Really? You take the bus?"
"Only when I don't want to drive. What? What's so funny?"
"It's just…I don't know. You're so…"
"Rich? White?" Chase bit his lip to hide a smile that he didn't understand. He should be annoyed. He should get up and leave.
Foreman chuckled. "Something like that. Didn't seem like something you'd do."
"I have a bus pass and everything. Wanna see it?"
"I had to take the city bus to school when I was a kid. Some of the people I rode with…" Foreman shook his head. "Man, I'm surprised my parents allowed it. But they were working, so it was either that or walk."
"Not an experience you're eager to relive?" Chase asked.
Foreman cocked his head, like the question confused him. "I uh…I hadn't really thought about it." It made sense to Chase-if he'd had to do that as a kid maybe, he'd never want to by choice. Not when he had enough money for a car or a cab. But it wasn't a stigma to him-it hadn't ever struck him as such.
It was to Foreman.
"Some guy tried to give me his phone number yesterday," Chase said, "on the bus."
Foreman nearly choked on his sandwich. "Seriously?"
"He sat down next to me and wouldn't shut up. He was a lot older than House too." Chase laughed. "That's why it was funny, right?" He watched Foreman's eyes drop back to his lunch.
"Uh…" Foreman pushed his bag of chips across the table. "So I have to go back to Trenton this weekend."
"Yeah."
"Mom had all these cousins who're camped out in a motel now and they're taking care of Dad…they're doing this dinner thing, inviting friends over, doing a photo album or something. I don't know. But I'm supposed to be there."
"Okay."
"Uh, Chase?"
"Yeah?"
"You…can have the chips. I'm not hungry."
Chase watched Foreman get up, lift his tray, and he found himself staring rather hard at Foreman's sudden attempt to avoid his eyes. But he took the chips anyway.
"Thanks," said Chase.
***
Two days later, they had lunch together again.
And Foreman was talking about it, about her, about the elephant in the room. And Chase was holding his breath.
"It was so stupid. The way she died. So pointless-like, if I had been there…" Foreman paused, taking a deep breath, "I should have been there. You know?"
Chase almost laughed because it was so perfect; he could say "I know" and mean it. I felt exactly the same way. And there were other things he could say too, word for word repetitions of reassurances offered by therapists over the years. The same old "It's not your fault. There was nothing you could have done." But it all seemed too quaint for Foreman, sitting there and staring straight ahead with that strange intensity that could only mean I'm not going to cry about this.
So Chase just said, "Yeah," and they finished lunch in silence.
***
"So I've got her ashes in a jar," Foreman said when Chase picked up the phone. "My father isn't making a decision about what to do with them so it looks like it's my responsibility like everything else."
"Oh," Chase said, not entirely sure what Foreman was getting at.
"So I was thinking I might scatter them around the rose garden, because that was one of her favorite places. I might have to call some people about that. I don't know how it works."
"Are you sure you want to scatter them?" Chase asked.
"I'm not putting them on my mantel. I don't even have a mantel."
"You could get a plot in a cemetery. Some memorials have specific places for cremated…" Saying 'remains' here seemed a little inappropriate.
Foreman made a snorting sound. "Why?"
"So your family can have somewhere to go." Leave flowers. Pray.
"I don't know."
"Foreman, I've been to my mother's grave exactly twice and I've never even seen my father's. Having them buried in a whole 'nother continent is tough enough, but having nowhere to go…"
For a moment, the line was silent.
"Well, maybe," Foreman finally said.
"Do you want to grab dinner tonight?" Chase asked. "There's this pub just a few blocks down from my apartment-"
"It’s okay," said Foreman, "I'm fine."
"Didn't say you weren't. Come on. It'll be good to get out of the house." And, perhaps, good to get away from the urn.
"It's okay," Foreman said again. "I have to get some stuff done before tomorrow. But Chase?"
"Yeah?"
"The dinner thing Saturday night…I told you about it, right?"
"Yes?" Chase asked, drawing out the word, having trouble believing where Foreman was probably going with this.
"Do you want to go? I mean, it's been over a week of this and Dad is…I just need a sane presence in my life."-here, Foreman laughed at himself-"I'd ask Cameron, but she has her sister's thing this weekend."
"It won't be weird?"
"No. Yes. You know, never mind-forget I asked. You probably have plans, right?"
"No, it's okay," Chase said carefully, "I can go."
"You-really? Well…well the weather's supposed to be all right this weekend. We can take my car. Okay."
After Chase hung up he dug through his bag, dresser, and kitchen drawers until he found his brown notebook, just to make sure the article was still between the pages. Then he considered pinching himself. Foreman was supposed to hate him, Foreman was supposed to find him annoying. Chase was supposed to be annoying-he was supposed to be insincere, if sympathetic only for selfish, unvirtuous reasons. He'd been playing the part so long-like it was all Foreman would allow him to do.
Chase didn't flatter himself into thinking it was anything he had done to change Foreman's mind. Death changes everything-he just didn't like to think about that. And why was Chase involved anyway? Was this really even like what happened to his father, or to his mother? Or did none of that matter? Because it was something universal?
"Do you want me to bring anything?" Chase had asked.
"Don't worry about it," Foreman said, "I'm just…I'll see you tomorrow at four."
He didn't say thanks, but Chase heard it anyway.
Part Three
a/n: Apparently I suck at multi-parters. My output's kinda been all over the place, but hopefully y'all remember what happened in the first part. Also, this may be four parts instead of three because this chapter covered less time than I'd intended...
I'm not sure if this is the Foreman and Chase I usually write, but I kind of like them in this story :p Feedback appreciated as always!