[identity profile] misery-parade.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] foreman_fest
Title: Seeing Double

Prompt # 148 - Foreman is actually Dr. Gant from ER. Did he try to commit suicide by El-train, or was it all a horrible misunderstanding?

Author: misery_parade

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I (quite sadly) do not own House, any of it's characters, or (not so sadly) ER or any of it's characters. All characters, references, etc... are copyright their respectful owners.
Summary: Dr. Benton from ER comes to Princeton-Plainsboro as a patient. It's up to Foreman to figure out what's wrong with him.



Notes: Okay. This really sucks. I'm sorry. I'm a terrible writer. Reviews are much appreciated. I like positive reviews more, but, hey, I'll take whatever I can get, even if they are negative. Hope you enjoy!


P.S. The fic beneath the cut posted kinda strangely, sorry, I'll try and fix it later. Thanks.


Nearly a decade since the tragedy had passed when he first started

seeing symptoms. Being a surgeon, he had a small idea of what it was,

but was too afraid to admit it. So, he saw a neurologist at his

hospital, who confirmed that the diagnosis was.....well, nothing. And

so began the round of seeing doctor after doctor, after doctor. And as

it had happened time and time before, no one could come up with an

answer.


---


Which is, perhaps, the reason that Peter Benton booked an appointment

with world reknown diagnostician Greg House, and flew out to Princeton

Plainsboro in New Jersey to see him. Just upon the initial visual

examination, House admitted him right away. There was something

seriously wrong with the surgeon that hailed from Chicago,

Illinois.....he was just having a hard time figuring it out.


---


After talking, arguing, and differential diagnosing for hours upon

hours with his team, House had no other choice but to surrender his

patient. Grumbling, he stepped into Cuddy's office.

"Still can't figure it out, House?" House didn't reply, he only nodded

his head slightly.

"Alright then. There are other patients that need your help. I'm sorry

House, but I'm handing the case off to another doctor." Cuddy's voice

held not only a twinge of sadness, but a deep overtone of

disappointment - for she believed that House would be able to figure

this case out. He always did. Except, this time, he couldn't.

"I wouldn't have expected any different from you, Cuddy." House mumbled

disapprovingly as he turned and hobbled off. Sighing loudly, Cuddy

pressed a button on her phone, and held it delicately to her ear,

monitoring the rings like a mother would monitor her child's breathing

through a baby monitor.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end finally breathed.

"Dr. Foreman," Cuddy said quickly. "I have a case for you."


---


"Hello Mr. Benton, I'm Dr. Foreman, the head of Neurology here at

Princeton-Plainsboro." Foreman gave the man a half-smile, trying his

hardest to look comforting and kind.

"Fore....Foreman?" The once brisk and quick-minded surgeon had a hard

time sputtering out just the doctor's name.

"How long have you been having that stutter?"

"Jus.......just..................for......a.............lit......tle...

.........................while." He finally spat out.

"I think we need to do a CT and an MRI." Foreman decided quickly,

voicing his decision loudly.

"Why? What.......do

you...................think..............you'll..................see...

.................that..............the...............other.........doc.

...........tors.........haven't?" Foreman stayed silent, pondering the

questing, trying his absolute hardest to come up with a comforting,

reassuring answer.

"I'm not sure, but there is definitely something there."


---


Lie still Mr. Benton, okay? This will only take a few minutes." Foreman

called to the man through the microphone. Although he tried as hard as

he could, Benton could not stay perfectly still. "Mr. Benton," Foreman

called as he made his way out of the glass room and into the main room,

"You need to stay perfectly still, okay?"

"I'm trying." Benton replied through weakly gritted teeth. Foreman

pulled him out of the machine.

"I.."

"You remind me so much of Gant." Benton said quickly, before Foreman

had a chance to say anything else. "Are you sure you're not him?"

"Sir, I have no idea who this 'Gant' even is. My name is Dr.

Foreman....do you remember who I am?" Foreman felt his pulse begin to

race. He gulped only to find that his mouth was dry.

"Yes.....but you sure do look like him. You sound like him, act like

him...."

"Coincidences do happen." Foreman answered, as he pulled the miniature

flashlight from his lab coat pocket and scanned his patient's eyes.

"Are you sure this.....this is a........coincidence?" Foreman avoided

the man for a minute, looking at the ground as he dropped the

flashlight back into his pocket.

"Yes."


---


The CT, the MRI, all came back clean. Benton was returned to his room,

and Foreman stayed in his office, the films pressed up against the

photographic plate.

"Can't distinguish anything?" Foreman turned around quickly.

"Oh, it's you." He growled at House.

"I'm sorry, am I not welcome here?"

"I'd prefer to not have you here, if that's what you're asking."

Replied Foreman as he continued to gaze at the scans.

"Very well then." House slowly limped off, leaving Foreman to his

business.


---


"Just draw another circle"

"GET AWAY FROM HIM!!" House, who had been sitting in the chair next to

Benton's bed, spun around to find a seething, outraged Foreman standing

in the doorway.

"I'm not doing anything, Dr. Foreman." House said casually, turning his

attention back to the patient.

"HE'S NOT YOUR PATIENT." Foreman yelled. "THIS IS NOT YOUR CALL TO DO

THESE TESTS!!" Foreman was practically on top of House now, staring

down into his face, his eyes wide and wild.

"Okay, okay, fine!" House screamed as he got up. "I'm going, I'm

going!" Foreman kicked the chair by the bed away, and leaned over

Benton.

"Oh, Foreman?" House said from the door. "Someone by the name of Dr.

Carter called for you."


---


"YOU ANSWERED MY CALLS?!? YOU SON OF A BITCH, YOU ANSWERED MY CALLS?!?"

Foreman screeched at the top of his lungs.

"Technically no, I just picked up your phone because it wouldn't stop

ringing. It was beginning to irritate me."

"Why were you even in my office anyways?" Foreman asked angrily as he

shut the glass door behind him.

"Good move, let's not have the patient hearing our argument."

"Shut up." Foreman was seething now, ready to punch out House at his

next given chance.

"I was looking for Mr. Benton's file."

"Why didn't you check the nurses' station?"

"Figured you'd have it." House's reply to Foreman's question was quick,

short, right to the point. Foreman said nothing else, just turned and

left House standing by the patient's room.


---


"Did you look at the circles he drew?" House asked as he barged into

Foreman's office for the second time in an hour.

"No, House, I didn't." Foreman didn't even look up from the medical

journal he was reading.

"Classical Parkinson's."

"What?" Foreman snapped.

"Benton. He has Parkinson's." House sat down in the chair across from

Foreman's desk, and held his gaze against the neurologist.

"I know." Foreman said finally. His voice was quiet.

"What do you mean, you knew?" House snipped.

"That he had Parkinson's." Foreman's voice cracked. "I suspected it,

but I wasn't sure."

"Did you test him against the Unified Parkinson's Disease Rating

Scale?" Questioned House.

"I did." Foreman finally looked up at his old boss. "Did you?"

"Yes." Foreman went back to reading his medical journal.

"I'll go tell him." House said quietly, as he got up. Although he

didn't say anything, he could sense that there was something going on

between Foreman and his patient, and although he really, really wanted

to know, a lingering feeling deep inside of his body kept House from

disturbing the little peace that was there.


---


"Dr. House.......says.....that I...I

have.........Parki......Parkinson's disesase." Benton stuttered to

Foreman as he walked into his room. "I.....is tha......is that

tr....true?" Foreman said nothing, he just placed a syringe into the IV

port in Benton's hand, then sat down in the generic hospital chair that

was placed in the far corner of the room.

"Dr. House.....Dr. House seems.........to be.............an

arrogant......ass. Do....................do

you............agree..........with his............diagnosis?"

"I do." Foreman leaned back in the chair. "Dr. House may be an arrogant

ass, but he's just like you were at one time." Foreman said, after

staying silent for quite a long time.

"Gant."

"Yes."

"You mean...?" A look of confusion clouded Benton's face.

"I am Gant."

"But how...?"

"Dr. Ross had a patient several years back. Her name was Charlie. Her

pimp threatened to kill her. I was the only witness." Benton stared at

Foreman, stunned. "Because I was the only witness, and this guy was

extremely dangerous, I was considered high risk for something to happen

to me. I was placed in the witness protection program." Foreman gave

Benton a minute to ingest everything that he had just told him.

"You..........you died. You.........you jumped........off of........the

El.............the El tracks."

"That wasn't me. It was my brother, Marcus."

"Carter....?"

"Carter keeps me updated on everything that happens over at County

General. Why do you think he's over in Africa now, anyways? Because of

Luka? No. Because he wants to be a do-gooder? Certainly not." Foreman

paused. "He's over there because he's the only one who knows anything

about this. He's safest over there." Foreman paused again. "And, now,

you too, know the entire story." Benton said nothing. He just continued

to stare at Foreman. "But, see, here's the catch." Foreman got up, and

pulled his chair closer to Benton's bed. Benton had noticed that a

slight sinister look had crossed Foreman's face. "You can't know about

any of this." The numbers on the heart monitor began to rise. "You

weren't supposed to know about any of this. But since you do....."

Foreman's voice trailed off for a minute. "You must die." Foreman

looked straight into Benton's scared eyes. "The process has already

been started."

"What?!? I...."

"You're going to die soon anyways? And, besides," Foreman pulled a

syringe out of his labcoat pocket. "Your wife and son left you. What do

you have to live for? Nothing." Foreman stood, and walked over to the

door. Silently, he locked the doors, and barreled back over to Benton's

bedside. "Wouldn't you rather end it now, instead of suffer through the

rest of this?"

"The...........there's......nothing.."

"There's nothing else that can be done. I'm sorry." Foreman said

quietly. He placed the needle into the IV port. "Thank you for being an

arrogant ass when you were my boss. It helped me prepare for being

underneath House." And with that, Foreman began to push the final

medicine though the port, and watched as his former mentor slipped away

from life on the very same day that Dennis Gant had died, and Eric

Foreman had come to life ten years ago.

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