Chase sat on the carpet, next to the bloodstain, and knocked-over whiteboard.
He reached over, pulling the cane out from where it skidded, partially under one of the bookcases.
He held the solid brown wood in his hands, and closed his eyes.
House has tossed this to him to hold, handed it to him, whacked him with it, hung it on the back of his chair.
Chase stood up, and put the cane in his right hand, wondering what it was like.
It was kind of pathetic, that the best thing he could think to do while House fought for his life was play pretend with the cane.
But it's the only thing of House's he's been allowed to touch.
And other than the blood soaked into the carpet, the only part of House that he might ever see again.
He pretends to limp around the room, then tosses the cane at the floor, and falls to his knees, eyes closed, as tears start to spill out.
He's so pathetic, kneeling here.
He can just hear House's voice, snapping at him, asking him if he thinks the tears in IV form would help the patient.
Except the patient is House, and he can't tell Chase these things.
Because by this point, he might well be dead.
Chase's eyes snap open.
He can't not say goodbye.
He didn't get to say goodbye to his father.
He doesn't want to let the man who's the closest thing he's had to a dad die before he says goodbye.
He runs out of the room, runs down the stairs, runs into the ER, runs to where House was brought.
The bed is empty, stained with blood.
Chase stands and stares, and starts to tremble.
"Dr. Chase?" says a voice behind him, but he doesn't turn.
"If you're looking for House, he just got out of surgery. I can give you his room number, if you want?"
Chase turns around, "is he gonna make it?"
The person shrugs, "we still don't know. room 212."
Chase runs.
He runs up the steps to the second floor, and he runs and runs and then suddenly there's this person in front of him and he feels an impact on his chest, and then he's falling, and landing with a cry.
He opens his eyes.
"You broke your pelvis," says a familiar, gravelly voice.
He turns his head towards it, and there's House, standing straight, a gauze pad on his neck, and his hand on his side.
Chase fixes this image in his mind, and whispers, "I had to say goodbye."
"Yeah," says House, "'cause that would have made all the difference in the world."
Chase reaches out, and grips House's hand, and although the older doctor doesn't seem too thrilled about this, he also doesn't pull it away.
"Not doing it would have been the thing that made a difference."
House smirked a little.
"Yes, it would have. Because if you hadn't, I wouldn't have brought you a present."
Chase blinked, startled, "what?"
House snorted, and reached over, to where his cane was hung on the back of a chair.
"The ketamine worked. And you've got a broken pelvis."
Chase groaned, as House handed him the cane.
But, really…
It's a part of House that he gets to keep.