a/n: this is the attempt to translate another one of my stories in English. It was written some time around when S6 had started, and can be found in its original form at my profile. This one isn't exactly Cameron-friendly, but has a strong House/Chase flavor to it. It also contains Cutthroat Bitch, Chase's bachelor party, and delves into the question as of why House did endanger Chase's life by arranging a certain stripper (because we never really got an answer to that).

Also, I'd like to apologize for any mistakes which are completely my own.

Influenced

It was close to midnight when the doorbell was interrupting Robert Chase's evening off.

With a grunt, he scrambled to his feet, his mouth still stuffed with Indian food, and shuffled to the door.

He was hardly surprised to see who visited him at this late hour.

It was House.

He had not seen him on Kutner's funeral.

Come to think of it, he had seen surprisingly little of him at all in the last few weeks.

Not that he had been unhappy about it. The relationship to his former boss and mentor had always been somewhat strained since he'd gotten serious with Cameron, and now, with the wedding waiting in the wing, his mind was occupied with tons of other things. Cameron insisted on inviting him, had even proposed to him that House should have been asked to be Best Man. Chase wondered if his wife-to-be had some sort of a masochistic streak in her; for some reason, he couldn't get past the thought that she still had feelings for their ex-boss. All of the wrong kind, of course.

He looked bad.

Tired.

Exhausted.

Under his eyes were dark circles that seemed to stem from insomnia, and he didn't say a word when Chase stepped back to let him in.

It felt weird to have him in their home. In his and Cameron's apartment, to be precise.

"I need your help." House forced out the words after he had closed the door behind them. His voice sounded rough and shaky.

Chase took another bite of his samosa and went back into the living room, feigning indifference. "Why?"

"I haven't slept in four days."

Based on his appearance, it was more than credible.

"Want me to sing you to sleep? Cameron's not home. She could probably do it better than me."

House pinched the bridge of his nose and refrained from a witty retort, which was alarming in itself. "I know that she's not here. I've checked the ER-schedule. I need you, not Cameron."

Chase dropped down on the sofa, both intrigued and shocked at the revelation. House was definitely in the toilet, openly asking him for help. "Sleeping pills, then. Ask Wilson to write a prescription."

"Wouldn't do the trick. And I didn't come to your place for cheap advice. You're not Wilson."

Chase leaned forward, resting his fingers on his lips for a moment. "You look like crap."

"Save the compliments for your marriage."

There was a trace of annoyance in his comeback, and Chase started to feel more than a little uneasy. He had learned to keep up with House's rudeness, had learned to shrug it off like water from a duck's back, but he had never seen him miserable enough to actually feel sorry for him.

In any case, Chase suspected that something more serious than the resolve of insomnia was about to come up, and he waited patiently until his unexpected visitor had settled opposite him in the recliner (which, oddly enough, looked a lot like the recliner in House's office).

The cane slipped out of House's grip, causing a muted thump on the soft carpet. House didn't bother to care, or he was too distracted to even notice. "You hypnotized me once."

Chase felt more awkward. "Hypnosis is not exactly a surrogate for lullabies."

"I don't want to sleep. I want to get rid of her."

Chase knitted his brows. Incoherent speech indicated malfunction of the brain. Prolonged sleep deprivation, added to the reckless pill popping House had been floundering into everyone's faces for years, it was possible. Not to mention the trauma of the accident a few months ago, and now the death of Kutner that House held himself partly responsible for. Chase knew he did. Nobody ever talked about it, but he just knew.

"Want to get rid of whom precisely?"

"Wilson's Shiksa. Amber."

Amber was dead. Crushed by a bus and consequently dying from Amantadine poisoning. Another death pinned on House's self-inflicted guilt.

"You want to get rid Amber?" He still didn't know if he got this straight.

"She's in here." House pointed to his forehead. "Inside my head. I need to get her out."

Good Lord.

Chase reached for the glass of wine on the table and set it back again, deciding it was best to stay as sober as possible. "So you're seeing Amber who has been dead for over half a year. Is there some kind of deeper meaning to it?"

"If I wanted to analyze it, I would have made an appointment with a psychiatrist or Wilson, not you. All you have to do is to scare her away."

He forced himself to concentrate, although the idea of House having a dead woman in his head was more than a little bit unnerving. "This can't be done in one single session. What's she doing? Is it responsible for the fact that you can't sleep?"

House closed his eyes for a moment, and Chase saw that his hands were shaking. "She's arranging Tupperware parties and constantly plays Eminem's new CD. It's driving me nuts. I need to stop her. Which is where you come into play."

"I won't start poking into an already messed-up mind, House. It's risky, you know that. If you're seeing Amber, you should talk about it with someone who specializes in such matters. In other words, find a therapist. You've got the wrong number. I'm a surgeon, not a shrink."

House gave him a small mocking pout, so familiar to Chase that he was tempted to throw him out. In the next split of a second, he would agree to do whatever House demanded him to do, because, well, they both knew he couldn't resist a good juicy challenge. Chase felt his guard tumbling down, like it usually happened when curiosity was taking over. Oh, House knew how to push his buttons, always had been.

"I do want to talk about it", House said, in an obstinate tone of voice. "I want to kick her out before she gets a chance to make herself at home."

"Do you have any idea what she wants from you?" Chase thought it was a weird question, but it seemed like the reasonable thing to ask. The whole situation was weird, so he tried to adjust as best as he could, playing along with House's insanity like he almost always did.

"If all you can do is asking me silly questions, you better go back to Thai food and keep watching Jerry Springer."

Chase reached for the remote and turned off the device. "This is serious, House. You should see a doctor."

"Which apparently you are not. You ever threw a glance at the Hippocratic Oath, or is it cash that keeps you on duty?"

For a moment, Chase was convinced he would reach for his wallet. He rose to his feet and shook his head. This wasn't going to end well. "I have no idea why Amber is in your head, but I'm pretty sure I'm not the one who should figure it out. If I'm to hypnotize you, you need to give me a very good reason. I'm no exorcist, and it's not gonna work like that anyway."

"Who said you were Max von Sydow? All I'm asking for is some damn hypnosis, and you're the only one available who has the required skills."

"Again, why?"

House performed an impatient wave of his hand. "You knew her. Seriously, who wants her bitching and diagnosing twenty-four seven?"

"She's doing the DDX?"

"Was doing it in life. No reason to stop after death", House acerbically pointed out.

"Is she good?"

"She's brilliant."

"Right", Chase drawled, letting the syllable roll around his tongue. "I get why you would want to get rid of her then."

"I need you to do this. I need to think clearly again without her interrupting my thought process."

"You think she's dangerous. Why would you say that?"

"Because she prances around wearing nothing but thongs. How many reasons you need?"

Chase took a deep breath and glanced at the clock.

It would be another four hours until Cameron would come home, minimum.

They had time. House had indeed checked out her schedule.

oOo

It took a long time to get House to completely relax and let go, longer than it did in their first (and only) session after the bus accident. It almost felt like House's subconsciousness was fighting him, denying access to this twisted mind of his. By the time House was in a slight trance, Chase was soaked to the skin with effort.

"Damn it, Chase, what takes you so long?"

"You're tense. Hypnosis doesn't work like that. It's not as easy as swallowing down a pill, you perfectly know that. If you don't cooperate, at least give me some slack for trying."

"I didn't come all the way to pat your head for just trying."

Chase sighed quietly. "Can you try to relax? Start with a deep breath. Concentrate on it."

"I didn't come for autosuggestive training."

Perhaps it would do good you, Chase thought.

"Close your eyes. Pay attention to my voice. Let go of all intruding thoughts. You are calm. Everything is quiet. You are calm and relaxed." Again and again he muttered the words like a mantra. It was a hard piece of work, and he realized that he was panting as he finally saw House's limbs gradually loosen, his body relaxing into the cushion. It was clear that the man was under a lot of pressure.

"How are you feeling?"

"It's too hot in here. Turn the heating down."

"Can you tell me where you are?"

"In your picture-perfect home. Can't you do better than that? Why am I not on the Bahamas?"

"Amber", Chase prompted, "you wanted to talk about Amber."

"I don't want to talk about her. I want to kick her out, that's all."

"Where is she now?"

"Sitting next to you."

Chase involuntarily glanced at the sofa, knowing he should know better. He cleared his throat, firmly fixing his mind on the man in front of him. "Right. So Amber is sitting next to me. What's she doing?"

"Stuffing her mouth with popcorn."

He looked at the half empty bowl that was seated on the couch table, a bit dazed by the image. "Why would she do that?"

"Pure malice?" House suggested.

Wrong question.

Chase planted his elbows on his knees and pressed his fingertips on his lips while he tried hard to think of anything, anything that made sense. It wasn't that House had given him much to work with. It wasn't that he wasn't used to this fact, either. Chase was perfectly aware that there was no other reason why House had decided to come to his place.

He could not resist the next question. "Is she wearing a thong?"

"What, you want details on her underwear? Come on, Chase, you're not that immature."

It wouldn't work.

He looked at House and wondered whether he could dare to speak to her directly. Damn, this was like some creepy séance they were about to perform here.

"Why is she sitting next to me?"

"Why don't you ask her?"

Chase swallowed hard, weighing the options. This was downright creepy. He had never done anything like this before, and yet-… Wasn't it like everything that was connected to House? The more outrageous, the more sensational the better, and what a challenge it was. He had to admit to himself that this was the most interesting thing that had happened to him since he'd left diagnostics.

"You think you can get her to talk?"

oOo

"He's not the sharpest knife in the drawer." Amber picked another handful of popcorn from the bowl, inspecting it like she would inspect a sample under a microscope. "Why did you hire him?"

"Because he has nice hair."

"I'm blonde too." Challenging, and a bit too seductive for House's current liking, she threw back her head. Her long hair flew around her shoulders.

House sighed and focussed on the more important stuff. "I wanted him. He's easy to handle. I need someone who doesn't question everything I say."

"He needs a Daddy; someone who tells him what to do. Is that what you expect from your staff?"

"He survived four years doing what he's been told. I fired him when he started to grow up."

Amber threw a sidelong glance at the young Australian. "He's pretty. Cameron found that out quick, right? A bit too naive, maybe, but still pretty."

Chase intervened. "Are we talking about Amber or Cameron? She's not in your head, right?"

"Jealous fool", Amber snorted derisively.

"We're not talking Cameron," House said to Chase, ignoring Amber.

'No. This is all about you." She put back the bowl and looked at Chase with a strange, unfamiliar mix of pity and annoyance. "Poor stupid kid. He doesn't know a thing, does he? He doesn't suspect that she would leave him in a blink of an eye if you put a bouquet of flowers in her locker, spiced up with a candle light dinner invitation."

"I don't want her."

"But it's him you wanted. You just said so yourself."

"This is bullshit."

"Show him who she really is. Show him how she behaves when you're near her. Do you really think she loves him? Why do you think she keeps pestering you with petty cases from the ER?"

"It's because she loves babies and helpless puppies and men with brain tumors. She's fond of cripples, too."

Chase's voice came on. "Can we talk about Amber?"

"You wanted to know what she has to say. I can't help it if she wants to discuss your fiancée."

Amber nodded approvingly. "It bothers you because you're going to lose both. You can't stomach the fact that she chose him over you."

"Because it has been wrong all along. This has nothing to do with me, but with him being too blind to figure out the fact that she's afraid of commitment."

"Oh, we give the marriage counselor," Amber scoffed. "If he were like you, he wouldn't be that stupid."

"Chase is not like me."

"Yet it's the reason why you hired him."

No, Chase was not like him.

But he was malleable.

Willing.

Ready to emerge to something worth grinding it.

"He's not like you," Amber nodded, "he is what you'll never be, a decent doctor with two healthy legs and a beautiful woman at his side. Unfortunately, he's without much ambition or common sense. Doesn't that make you angry?"

"I don't care how many healthy legs he has. I'm not stupid enough to be jealous."

"You'll lose him."

"Staff come and go."

"You hate change."

"I can live with it."

"What about the attention? It flatters you that they're still around."

"I didn't ask them to stay."

"So what do we make of it?" She inclined her head in Chase' direction. "You're okay with him giving up his choices to someone who gets off by the mere sight of cripples and puppies? She's not going to embrace who he really is. I bet she doesn't even know what he really is."

Chase' voice interrupted them. "House? This is not about Cameron, is it?"

"It's not," he grumbled. "Can we change the subject?"

"Poor boy. It's all there is in his head. He can't stop thinking of how to make her his, because deep down, he knows she'll never be. I'm asking you in all honesty, how pathetic can a person get." Amber stood up and smoothed her short skirt. "Did you see the pictures on the walls? Phew!"

"Monet", he said, hoping to shut her up for once.

He hated her voice.

The way she mercilessly drummed unspoken truths into his ears, he hated that, too.

Hoping to make her stop, he said: "Painting for self-discovery in evening classes".

"Right, and he had been raving about it, though he'd much rather hang a poster of the Silver Surfer or Norman Rockwell on the wall."

"He's remarkably adaptable."

Viciousness sparkled in her steely grey eyes. "It was convenient as long as he has adapted to you. Cameron? She'll turn him into a mindless oaf."

"Why exactly should that bother me?"

"Because you care." She smiled knowingly, and it gave him a chill down his spine. "All the things you've been teaching him, she can easily outweigh with a single burst of tears."

"I've worked with what's been given to me. Don't try to make it into more as it is."

"Thus bringing out the best in him," she said with an agreeing nod. "Cameron, she can't compete, but it's her who has him on a leash now. You were doing what you are doing, and quite successfully so. Cameron sets other standards. He will be your puppet no longer but hers. So you lose, and it's nagging on you. Don't try to deny it."

"This is ridiculous."

"Four years of hard work for nothing." She sighed theatrically. "I'm afraid you'll need to find yourself a new heir to the throne."

Was it really like that when it came down to him?

He had dismissed Chase not for fear of competition, but because it was the logical choice.

He did not want him as his successor. Chase had learned to swim, and it had been time to push him into the open water.

There was nothing to evaluate about that.

"Shut up", he growled. "This is not about Chase."

"And yet you came to him", she insisted. "He has always trusted you. He's looking up to you, and you dwell in it. Don't tell me you were indifferent to the fact that he's been avoiding you since he's been getting serious with Cameron. He's under her thumb already. Is this what we wanted?"

"House?" Chase' voice floated into the conscious part of his mind. "Are you listening?"

"Gag her," he growled. "For heavens sake, make her stop already."

Amber nodded solemnly in Chase's direction, idly taking up a music box from the dresser. "He'd come to the conclusion that I'm right. He would listen and make up his mind, eventually."

"He's a fool in love."

"Pah." Amber wrinkled her nose and squinted. "For the love of a woman he's doing everything she wants him to do. Like a well-trained dog he keeps coming crawling on his knees to her whenever she snaps her fingers. We'd mock him senseless for that. Where's your enthusiasm?"

"You're getting worked up," Chase said, unaware of the ongoing dialogue. "I'm getting you back."

"Since when did he become such a coward?" Amber asked with a derogatory glance to the sofa before she put back the music box. "Is that what you would want him do? Next he cooks you a cocoa and pats you on the head and tells you that everything will be fine. It's what she would do."

"This is no good," Chase said. "Your pulse is racing. Try to breathe more evenly. Concentrate on your breath. Amber is not here. We are alone. You are with me. Take it easy. I'm going to count down by ten. At five you'll feel as you would wake up from a good night's rest. Two, you will be relaxed and calm. Just breathe easy. Ten – nine – eight…"

"He means business." Amber shrugged. "Is it possible he doesn't like me?"

"No one liked you," House growled. "Go to hell."

"Nobody likes to hear the sad truth about themselves, especially not when they're selfish and narcissistic and manipulative of others."

He let out a humorless laugh. "That's why Chase is not a bit like me."

"You don't want him to submit to Cameron without a fight. That doesn't look like you. Hey, I've got an idea. It's brilliant. Wanna hear about it?"

"Go away."

"It's a good idea. Everyone involved is going to profit."

"Get out of my head."

"Another time, then", she said as she glanced at Chase.

Was there a touch of compassion in her eyes? He could not believe it.

He was probably too worn out to tell compassion from pity.

oOo

"Stay still" he heard Chase say, followed by the warm pressure of fingers on his arm. "How you're keeping up?"

"Smashing."

Chase kept checking his watch. It took another endless five minutes until House finally opened his eyes.

"That was quite a trip." Made it hard on me as usual. Should I expect anything else from you?

House looked around, slightly puzzled. His gaze slid across the entire living room and halted briefly at the green-yellowish canvas, painted by Cameron's own hand and proudly displayed on the archway passage of the kitchen.

"Is she still around?" Chase asked.

House blinked, then shook his head. "You have sucessfully expelled her."

Chase looked skeptical. "It's as real as it can be, right?"

"You think I was making this up to get your attention?"

"It's not quite commonplace to communicate with the dead."

House rubbed his forehead.

He still looked as exhausted as when he came here. Chase suddenly felt the urge to say something.

Anything.

"If you want to crash at my place for the night... It doesn't bother me."

"Yeah, and it won't bother your future wife even less. Send her in case I want to cry myself to sleep, will you do that for me?"

"You should get some rest. Sleep deprivation can cause hallucinations. I'll go get you a valium."

"You've done enough for today."

Chase picked up the cane and watched in uncomfortable silence as House scrambled to his feet. Finally, he said: "What did she say? Do you remember?"

"Nothing of importance," he snorted, but they both knew that he was lying.

"This is not Amber talking."

"Yeah, it's all in my messed-up mind."

"Amber doesn't know me. She didn't know Cameron."

"You were the gossip of the day three times a week, especially after the sperm donor story circling around."

"Amber knew nothing about it," he said softly. "She was dead long before. It's more than just a hallucination. You're talking to yourself."

"What a relief to hear your professional opinion, Dr. Chase." House turned to face him, hand on the door handle. "Thanks for the consult. You've been a great help."

It wasn't meant as a compliment. Chase shivered when House pulled the door open.

A cold air blew through the vestibule, reminding him that summer was almost over.

Suddenly, the image of a derisively laughing Amber crept up on him; Amber, who waited out there for House on the curb, her arms crossed triumphantly across her chest.

"I can give you a lift", he suggested, hoping that House, for this one time, would acknowledge his offer.

"I came here alone, I find back alone."

"Call Wilson when you're home."

"Telling him what? That his dead fiancée lap dances to Eminem in my dirty imagination?"

"She'll come back. It won't go away on its own, House."

"At least we'll have something to gossip about." He winked at him, but there was no amusement in his eyes.

Only fear.

"See you tomorrow," Chase said.

"That would be weird, wouldn't it? We never see each other. Except when I track you down in that cold sterile OR you chose to work at."

"I'll see you tomorrow," he repeated, with more determination this time. He stood there and watched House walking down the lane to the sideway. His car was parked in front of their house. Chase fleetingly considered to phone Wilson and ask him to call in a quarter of an hour at House's apartment, but changed his mind when he realized that Wilson would ask questions. He was too tired to tell someone in detail about this strange evening.

He wouldn't even tell Cameron.

"Take care," Chase said, not sure if House would hear him at all. He did.

"Same for you, too," House shouted laconically without turning his head, heading for his car.

Chase braced himself to heed the advice, and all of the sudden, a chill ran across his back.

He put out the light in the hallway and wondered whether it would be the last thing he'd heard of Amber.