Categories > TV > Angel > The L. A Patient
The girl that Chase gets put through to is bright, cheerful and very friendly, but seems to have a little trouble processing what he wants. He sympathises as best he can with the fact that she'll never make her mother happy by marrying a doctor, but refrains - probably wisely, he thinks - from asking why. He's still hoping to finish the call before Nina ends up dying of old age.
When he reminds her that he's still on the line, she seems to gather herself. "Oh! Right, yes. Okay, hold on, let me see."
He waits while paper rustles and computer keys tap.
"Uh, no, sorry. Doesn't look like we have anyone called Nina Ash working here."
He stifles a groan and prepares to go through it again, when suddenly a new voice comes on the line.
" - me the goddamn phone, Harmony. Hello? This is Angel. Who are you, and what do you know about Nina?"
Chase hurriedly explains who, and where, he is. "We've been treating her as best we can, but what's wrong with her, it's - well, we're not really sure what it is. Her symptoms are - uh, particularly unusual. She's been unconscious or raving most of the time, but just now she had quite a lucid spell. She said - well, she said a lot of crazy things about, uh-" he pauses, then rushes on. "Being attacked by demons and stuff, but she also said to call you. So here I am. Calling you. And here you are, actually being, you know, real."
He presses his lips together hard, to stop any further inanities spilling out. There's a certain quality to the other man's silence that's unnerving - it doesn't even sound like he's breathing - but Chase knows he isn't helping anything by making himself sound like an idiot. He takes a measured breath, and forces himself to wait.
"What kind of demon?"
Chase blinks. "What?"
The voice is clipped and impatient. Chase gets the definite impression that this is a guy who's used to getting what he wants, when he wants it. "You said she was attacked by a demon. I need to know what kind. Did she say?"
"Well, actually, I didn't say she was- "
"Just tell me - what kind of demon?"
"Uh, okay. She said -" He pauses, trying to think. Forget about the craziness of the conversation, just concentrate on the memory. What had she said? "A Macarena? A Mannequin?"
"Mannika? A Mannika demon?"
"Yes! That was it. Mannika."
"Right. Do you have a helicopter pad?"
"Huh? Oh, yes. The air ambulance - "
"Fine. I'm on my way. Keep her alive, do you hear me? I can help her, just keep her safe until I get there."
"Okay. I - "
"Oh, and that crazy stuff you mentioned? It's not as crazy as you think. Be careful." He pauses, then adds: "Have you got any chains?"
When he finally hangs up the phone, Chase rests his forehead on the desk. What the hell has he gotten into?
*
He wakes to the sound of Cuddy's voice close to his ear.
" - to me exactly why this patient is chained to her bed? Dr Chase? And while you're at it, perhaps you could also explain why my hospital appears to have been turned into some kind of Halloween parade?"
Chase blinks groggily, peeling his face away from Nina's sheet. As he looks up, he comes face to face with what looks like an astronaut in a dark, smoky grey spacesuit. A little sound somewhere between a gasp and a scream forces its way out of his throat.
He shoots backwards, overturning the chair and tipping himself onto the floor. The astronaut ignores him, remaining bent over Nina. On the far side of the bed, a thin, dark-haired girl in a lab coat is alternating between waving a strange metal contraption that looks like something out of Star Trek, and a big bunch of powdery herbs. She breaks off from chanting something unintelligible to smile and nod at Chase, and then carries on.
At her side is a guy in a long purple trench coat, a lilac Fedora and huge sunglasses. And - Chase blinks, but yes, it is what it looks like - bandages. The guy's face and hands are completely obscured by close-wrapped but soft-looking bandages. They match the hat.
Chase stands up, flinching slightly from the force of the glare Cuddy is levelling at him. "Uh," he says, which seems to completely exhaust his reserves of eloquence. He glances behind him and sees Foreman and Cameron taking in the scene. House stands slightly behind them, leaning heavily on his cane and looking straight at Chase. The expression on his face is possibly the scariest thing Chase has seen yet.
"There's something weird going on here," says Foreman mildly.
House nods. "Well, don't look at me, I ordered the Kung Po chicken. The weird with the side order of downright freaky seems to have been delivered for Dr Chase."
"Uh," says Chase again, holding up his hands. It's a plea for something, although he's not quite sure what. Time, maybe. He can explain this, if he can just get his head together.
Can't he?
House steps further into the room. "So, you felt you needed a consult from Buzz Aldrin, Dr Frankenstein, the Invisible Man and -" he breaks off, as a new figure walks through the door and over to the bed. "Billy Idol?"
"Hey," says the newcomer in an indignant tone. "He copied me, I'll have you know."
Chase isn't entirely certain who Billy Idol is, but presumes it's someone who's a big fan of leather and peroxide. Billy checks on Nina, who seems - amazingly, given all the fuss - to be sleeping, then turns back with his hand held out. Still feeling slightly stupefied, Chase takes it.
"So you're Chase, huh? Just wanted to say well done, mate. For looking after the girl, obviously, but also for getting us out on a field trip. I thought the bastard was never going to let me have a go in that helicopter."
"Uh," says Chase. It seems to have served him well so far; why fix what isn't broken?
Billy leans in close, and gives Chase a smile that's full of conspiratorial amusement. "Oh, and getting to see him prat about in that suit? Priceless. Absolutely fucking priceless. I mean, a real vamp relies on his speed and a good blanket once the sun's up, you know? Not all this necro-tempered fibreglass business." He shakes his head. "Lost the plot, he has."
Chase is still trying to process the word vamp when the astronaut's head jerks up, although surely there's no way he could have heard such a low whisper from all the way across the room. "Spike," he says in a long-suffering tone that still manages to be at least part warning.
"What? I'm soothing the natives, aren't I? You just carry on sorting Wolfina out. Leave the damage control to me." He turns back to Chase. "That's Angel, 'case you hadn't guessed. The Big Cheese of our merry little band. His trouble is that he's started believing his own press, living up in that ivory tower and ordering everyone around. Makes him forget what it's like to be the one on the ground, just tryin' to get the job done."
His eyes flick to House, then back. "You ever had a boss like that, Doc?"
"/Spike/. Stop trying to cause trouble."
Spike arranges his features into a perfect 'what, me?' expression and starts to say something else but then Cuddy steps forward. "Dr Chase," she says, and her tone is so glacial it could be a cure for global warming. "You will explain yourself. Right now."
"Dr Lisa Cuddy?" says a voice, before Chase can go 'uh' again and/or get fired. They both turn to see a handsome black man in a very smart suit, carrying an expensive-looking briefcase. "Excuse me. My name is Charles Gunn and I'm with Wolfram & Hart, Los Angeles." An embossed business card is produced and pressed into Cuddy's hand.
She looks at it, then back at Chase. Her teeth are clamped together so hard he can see the muscles in her jaw working. "A law firm."
The man called Gunn follows the look and gives a quick shake of his head. "Dr Cuddy, let me assure you that I'm not here on unpleasant business. My associates and I are obviously very appreciative of the care you've given Ms Ash, and we'd like to discuss the making of an appropriate donation to the hospital, to reflect that appreciation."
She finally breaks the death-stare she's had trained on Chase to look up at him. "A donation?"
Gunn smiles warmly. "Of course. It's the least we can do. Wolfram & Hart has a sizeable budget for charitable contributions, so I'm sure we can come to a suitable arrangement. Is there somewhere we can go to discuss matters? Your office, perhaps?"
He takes Cuddy's elbow and steers her smoothly out of the room. Chase relaxes, letting out a breath he hadn't even realised he was holding.
House watches them go. "Now that's what I call damage control," he says, giving Spike an appraising look. A very long, very obvious, very head-to-foot appraising look. Chase has never been sure whether that look is supposed to intimidate or titillate - or possibly both.
Spike lifts his chin slightly, seeming unfazed. If anything, it looks like he turns slightly to show off his profile.
Which is worth showing off, Chase has to admit. He hasn't looked at a guy seriously for a while now - and as always, he ignores the little inner voice that laughs at this - but he'd have to say that this Spike was worth a look. Maybe two. If it wasn't for the whole apparently insane problem, of course.
Still, at least he hadn't gone the whole hog and got his teeth altered. Not like some of the guys Chase had known at that fetish club back in Sydney. And the bright blond hair was a bit unusual - that set usually went for the traditional black. Maybe he was a Lestat fan.
"Yeah, well," says Spike, shrugging. "Money talks faster than anything - even me."
House's gaze slips past Spike's shoulder. "On the subject of talking money..."
Chase turns to see Vogler appear in the doorway. He's good at looking thunderous - maybe the bulk helps - and right now he's surpassing every previous personal best.
"What," he hisses between clenched teeth, "is going on here?"
House fakes a yawn and gestures with his cane towards Cuddy's office. "The lawyer with the fat checkbook went that way."
Vogler just stares at him. Chase glances at the bed, where the girl in the lab coat is really working up a sweat with the chanting and waving. Nina is now awake and writhing on the sheet, her head thrown back and a low growling sound coming from her throat. She's very, very green. The guy in the bandages is trying to hold her hand but it's clenched into a tight fist. The chains clank against the bed as she pulls against them.
The astronaut - Angel - looks anxious. Or that's Chase's best guess, anyway - it's not all that easy to tell, under that faceplate.
"Is this right?" he asks the girl. "It doesn't look right."
She pauses, wipes her forehead with the sleeve of her coat and checks the readout on the Star Trek gadget. "It's not what I expected. Normally, Mannika venom is a soporific - it overpowers the host body's autonomy, inducing extreme suggestibility but not usually any physical change. I think what's happening is that the venom is reacting with her werewolf DNA - it's like the werewolf in her is fighting for domination."
"Right. So is that good, or bad?"
"Well, it's good in the sense that it's kept her with us this far. She was bitten so many times - with this much venom in her system, if she'd been fully human, she - well, let's just say she wouldn't be any more. But it's bad in the sense that it's interfering with the spell. The magic's calibrated to the Mannika aura, and the werewolf element keeps throwing it off. I'm doing my best, but - " She breaks off and gives him a helpless look.
"It's okay, Fred. Just - do what you can."
Vogler looks at House. "Did she just say 'werewolf'?"
House shrugs. "Do you have a better diagnosis?"
If looks could kill - and right now Chase is having enough of his assumptions about the world shaken that he wouldn't necessarily discount it - House would be in a crumpled heap on the floor breathing his last. As it is, he just turns to Cameron and Foreman and motions them towards the bed. "Get over there and monitor her," he says. "She's still our patient and still in our care. Maybe whatever witch-doctoring they're doing will help - God knows nothing we've tried has - and if so then I want to know about it. With diagrams." He pauses to pop a Vicodin. "There could be a paper in it."
"You will do no such thing," says Vogler. "You will call security to have these people removed, and then you will step out of this room. I will deal with this."
Cameron and Foreman both stop, and look uneasily from Vogler to House. "Well," says House softly. "You've got your orders, and you've got your patient. Your call."
Nina chooses that moment to let out an unearthly howl, and it breaks the paralysis. Cameron, Foreman and Chase all rush forward.
"/Fred/," says Angel. "Talk to me."
Fred takes a step back from the bed as the others cluster around, checking Nina's vital signs.
"Jesus," says Foreman. "Her blood pressure is through the /roof/."
Cameron looks up at House, then Angel. "She's dying."
"No," says Chase, lifting her eyelids and shining a light into her eyes. They're still a bright, glowing green but the pupils have contracted into slits. "/No/. Come on, Nina. Come on."
Fred shakes her head. "She's not dying. The werewolf won the fight. She's /changing/."
TBC...
When he reminds her that he's still on the line, she seems to gather herself. "Oh! Right, yes. Okay, hold on, let me see."
He waits while paper rustles and computer keys tap.
"Uh, no, sorry. Doesn't look like we have anyone called Nina Ash working here."
He stifles a groan and prepares to go through it again, when suddenly a new voice comes on the line.
" - me the goddamn phone, Harmony. Hello? This is Angel. Who are you, and what do you know about Nina?"
Chase hurriedly explains who, and where, he is. "We've been treating her as best we can, but what's wrong with her, it's - well, we're not really sure what it is. Her symptoms are - uh, particularly unusual. She's been unconscious or raving most of the time, but just now she had quite a lucid spell. She said - well, she said a lot of crazy things about, uh-" he pauses, then rushes on. "Being attacked by demons and stuff, but she also said to call you. So here I am. Calling you. And here you are, actually being, you know, real."
He presses his lips together hard, to stop any further inanities spilling out. There's a certain quality to the other man's silence that's unnerving - it doesn't even sound like he's breathing - but Chase knows he isn't helping anything by making himself sound like an idiot. He takes a measured breath, and forces himself to wait.
"What kind of demon?"
Chase blinks. "What?"
The voice is clipped and impatient. Chase gets the definite impression that this is a guy who's used to getting what he wants, when he wants it. "You said she was attacked by a demon. I need to know what kind. Did she say?"
"Well, actually, I didn't say she was- "
"Just tell me - what kind of demon?"
"Uh, okay. She said -" He pauses, trying to think. Forget about the craziness of the conversation, just concentrate on the memory. What had she said? "A Macarena? A Mannequin?"
"Mannika? A Mannika demon?"
"Yes! That was it. Mannika."
"Right. Do you have a helicopter pad?"
"Huh? Oh, yes. The air ambulance - "
"Fine. I'm on my way. Keep her alive, do you hear me? I can help her, just keep her safe until I get there."
"Okay. I - "
"Oh, and that crazy stuff you mentioned? It's not as crazy as you think. Be careful." He pauses, then adds: "Have you got any chains?"
When he finally hangs up the phone, Chase rests his forehead on the desk. What the hell has he gotten into?
*
He wakes to the sound of Cuddy's voice close to his ear.
" - to me exactly why this patient is chained to her bed? Dr Chase? And while you're at it, perhaps you could also explain why my hospital appears to have been turned into some kind of Halloween parade?"
Chase blinks groggily, peeling his face away from Nina's sheet. As he looks up, he comes face to face with what looks like an astronaut in a dark, smoky grey spacesuit. A little sound somewhere between a gasp and a scream forces its way out of his throat.
He shoots backwards, overturning the chair and tipping himself onto the floor. The astronaut ignores him, remaining bent over Nina. On the far side of the bed, a thin, dark-haired girl in a lab coat is alternating between waving a strange metal contraption that looks like something out of Star Trek, and a big bunch of powdery herbs. She breaks off from chanting something unintelligible to smile and nod at Chase, and then carries on.
At her side is a guy in a long purple trench coat, a lilac Fedora and huge sunglasses. And - Chase blinks, but yes, it is what it looks like - bandages. The guy's face and hands are completely obscured by close-wrapped but soft-looking bandages. They match the hat.
Chase stands up, flinching slightly from the force of the glare Cuddy is levelling at him. "Uh," he says, which seems to completely exhaust his reserves of eloquence. He glances behind him and sees Foreman and Cameron taking in the scene. House stands slightly behind them, leaning heavily on his cane and looking straight at Chase. The expression on his face is possibly the scariest thing Chase has seen yet.
"There's something weird going on here," says Foreman mildly.
House nods. "Well, don't look at me, I ordered the Kung Po chicken. The weird with the side order of downright freaky seems to have been delivered for Dr Chase."
"Uh," says Chase again, holding up his hands. It's a plea for something, although he's not quite sure what. Time, maybe. He can explain this, if he can just get his head together.
Can't he?
House steps further into the room. "So, you felt you needed a consult from Buzz Aldrin, Dr Frankenstein, the Invisible Man and -" he breaks off, as a new figure walks through the door and over to the bed. "Billy Idol?"
"Hey," says the newcomer in an indignant tone. "He copied me, I'll have you know."
Chase isn't entirely certain who Billy Idol is, but presumes it's someone who's a big fan of leather and peroxide. Billy checks on Nina, who seems - amazingly, given all the fuss - to be sleeping, then turns back with his hand held out. Still feeling slightly stupefied, Chase takes it.
"So you're Chase, huh? Just wanted to say well done, mate. For looking after the girl, obviously, but also for getting us out on a field trip. I thought the bastard was never going to let me have a go in that helicopter."
"Uh," says Chase. It seems to have served him well so far; why fix what isn't broken?
Billy leans in close, and gives Chase a smile that's full of conspiratorial amusement. "Oh, and getting to see him prat about in that suit? Priceless. Absolutely fucking priceless. I mean, a real vamp relies on his speed and a good blanket once the sun's up, you know? Not all this necro-tempered fibreglass business." He shakes his head. "Lost the plot, he has."
Chase is still trying to process the word vamp when the astronaut's head jerks up, although surely there's no way he could have heard such a low whisper from all the way across the room. "Spike," he says in a long-suffering tone that still manages to be at least part warning.
"What? I'm soothing the natives, aren't I? You just carry on sorting Wolfina out. Leave the damage control to me." He turns back to Chase. "That's Angel, 'case you hadn't guessed. The Big Cheese of our merry little band. His trouble is that he's started believing his own press, living up in that ivory tower and ordering everyone around. Makes him forget what it's like to be the one on the ground, just tryin' to get the job done."
His eyes flick to House, then back. "You ever had a boss like that, Doc?"
"/Spike/. Stop trying to cause trouble."
Spike arranges his features into a perfect 'what, me?' expression and starts to say something else but then Cuddy steps forward. "Dr Chase," she says, and her tone is so glacial it could be a cure for global warming. "You will explain yourself. Right now."
"Dr Lisa Cuddy?" says a voice, before Chase can go 'uh' again and/or get fired. They both turn to see a handsome black man in a very smart suit, carrying an expensive-looking briefcase. "Excuse me. My name is Charles Gunn and I'm with Wolfram & Hart, Los Angeles." An embossed business card is produced and pressed into Cuddy's hand.
She looks at it, then back at Chase. Her teeth are clamped together so hard he can see the muscles in her jaw working. "A law firm."
The man called Gunn follows the look and gives a quick shake of his head. "Dr Cuddy, let me assure you that I'm not here on unpleasant business. My associates and I are obviously very appreciative of the care you've given Ms Ash, and we'd like to discuss the making of an appropriate donation to the hospital, to reflect that appreciation."
She finally breaks the death-stare she's had trained on Chase to look up at him. "A donation?"
Gunn smiles warmly. "Of course. It's the least we can do. Wolfram & Hart has a sizeable budget for charitable contributions, so I'm sure we can come to a suitable arrangement. Is there somewhere we can go to discuss matters? Your office, perhaps?"
He takes Cuddy's elbow and steers her smoothly out of the room. Chase relaxes, letting out a breath he hadn't even realised he was holding.
House watches them go. "Now that's what I call damage control," he says, giving Spike an appraising look. A very long, very obvious, very head-to-foot appraising look. Chase has never been sure whether that look is supposed to intimidate or titillate - or possibly both.
Spike lifts his chin slightly, seeming unfazed. If anything, it looks like he turns slightly to show off his profile.
Which is worth showing off, Chase has to admit. He hasn't looked at a guy seriously for a while now - and as always, he ignores the little inner voice that laughs at this - but he'd have to say that this Spike was worth a look. Maybe two. If it wasn't for the whole apparently insane problem, of course.
Still, at least he hadn't gone the whole hog and got his teeth altered. Not like some of the guys Chase had known at that fetish club back in Sydney. And the bright blond hair was a bit unusual - that set usually went for the traditional black. Maybe he was a Lestat fan.
"Yeah, well," says Spike, shrugging. "Money talks faster than anything - even me."
House's gaze slips past Spike's shoulder. "On the subject of talking money..."
Chase turns to see Vogler appear in the doorway. He's good at looking thunderous - maybe the bulk helps - and right now he's surpassing every previous personal best.
"What," he hisses between clenched teeth, "is going on here?"
House fakes a yawn and gestures with his cane towards Cuddy's office. "The lawyer with the fat checkbook went that way."
Vogler just stares at him. Chase glances at the bed, where the girl in the lab coat is really working up a sweat with the chanting and waving. Nina is now awake and writhing on the sheet, her head thrown back and a low growling sound coming from her throat. She's very, very green. The guy in the bandages is trying to hold her hand but it's clenched into a tight fist. The chains clank against the bed as she pulls against them.
The astronaut - Angel - looks anxious. Or that's Chase's best guess, anyway - it's not all that easy to tell, under that faceplate.
"Is this right?" he asks the girl. "It doesn't look right."
She pauses, wipes her forehead with the sleeve of her coat and checks the readout on the Star Trek gadget. "It's not what I expected. Normally, Mannika venom is a soporific - it overpowers the host body's autonomy, inducing extreme suggestibility but not usually any physical change. I think what's happening is that the venom is reacting with her werewolf DNA - it's like the werewolf in her is fighting for domination."
"Right. So is that good, or bad?"
"Well, it's good in the sense that it's kept her with us this far. She was bitten so many times - with this much venom in her system, if she'd been fully human, she - well, let's just say she wouldn't be any more. But it's bad in the sense that it's interfering with the spell. The magic's calibrated to the Mannika aura, and the werewolf element keeps throwing it off. I'm doing my best, but - " She breaks off and gives him a helpless look.
"It's okay, Fred. Just - do what you can."
Vogler looks at House. "Did she just say 'werewolf'?"
House shrugs. "Do you have a better diagnosis?"
If looks could kill - and right now Chase is having enough of his assumptions about the world shaken that he wouldn't necessarily discount it - House would be in a crumpled heap on the floor breathing his last. As it is, he just turns to Cameron and Foreman and motions them towards the bed. "Get over there and monitor her," he says. "She's still our patient and still in our care. Maybe whatever witch-doctoring they're doing will help - God knows nothing we've tried has - and if so then I want to know about it. With diagrams." He pauses to pop a Vicodin. "There could be a paper in it."
"You will do no such thing," says Vogler. "You will call security to have these people removed, and then you will step out of this room. I will deal with this."
Cameron and Foreman both stop, and look uneasily from Vogler to House. "Well," says House softly. "You've got your orders, and you've got your patient. Your call."
Nina chooses that moment to let out an unearthly howl, and it breaks the paralysis. Cameron, Foreman and Chase all rush forward.
"/Fred/," says Angel. "Talk to me."
Fred takes a step back from the bed as the others cluster around, checking Nina's vital signs.
"Jesus," says Foreman. "Her blood pressure is through the /roof/."
Cameron looks up at House, then Angel. "She's dying."
"No," says Chase, lifting her eyelids and shining a light into her eyes. They're still a bright, glowing green but the pupils have contracted into slits. "/No/. Come on, Nina. Come on."
Fred shakes her head. "She's not dying. The werewolf won the fight. She's /changing/."
TBC...
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