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