Dr. Robert Chase pulled the scarf closer around his neck.

Although it was already February, the ground was still covered with a thick layer of dirty-looking snow and Chase couldn't remember seeing the sun's light break through the greyness of the sky lately. He could sense the absence of colors as something almost as physical as the icy cold of the air. Winter was still on the doorstep, like an annoying relative that simply refuses to leave your house.

Chase despised the weather for several reasons, the most significant being the fact that it had gotten him sick. Admittedly, the constant exposition to germs of all kinds that his job brought with it had most likely contributed its part, and while the building of the clinic appeared in front of him, Chase realized that it might not be the smartest idea to even go to work on a day like this. He had gone to bed the night before with a sore throat, a headache, a slightly runny nose and a sense of foreboding. He had woken up with a hacking cough, a stuffy and itchy nose, an aching body, a mild fever and an overall feeling of resentment. Even though Chase was somewhat aware that it wasn't a brilliant move to step foot into the contaminated clinic in his weakened condition, he hadn't even considered calling in sick as an option. After all, it was just a cold and he would live. Unlike his patients if he wasn't there to help them. Or at least, Chase liked to tell himself that.

His nose started running again, so Chase pulled out one of the tissues, which he had stuffed his jeans pockets with, and blew his nose wearily. Provoked by the contact with the soft fabric a familiar itchiness started to spread behind his nostrils. Chase stopped walking and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, but the feeling remained. Involuntarily, he sucked in his breath sharply and closed his eyelids… "Ha-itSHOO!"

He had raised his tissue just in time to cover up the sneeze and blew his nose again in annoyance. What would House say when he walked into the Princeton-Plainsboro like this?

Chase had arrived at the clinic's entrance. Okay, that's it, he thought to himself. If you wanna go home, do it now! But his body had already made the decision for him. He pushed open the door and the stench of chemicals immediately filled his sore nose. Dr. Chase fought down another sneeze, straightened himself and stepped inside.

"Good morning, Dr. Chase!", a young, attractive nurse called over to him.

"Morning…", he answered and flinched at the sound of his own voice. He sounded as terrible as he felt. The nurse frowned at him, but before she had the opportunity to comment on the way he looked and sounded, he went for the elevator. As soon as the doors closed in front of him, a sudden coughing fit took hold of him. When it was over, Chase sighed and started fishing in his pockets for a cough drop. His fingers found a cherry-flavored one, which he sucked on thankfully. His throat had gone so sore after exchanging only one word with the nurse that now he felt incapable of having a normal conversation that included more than three words on his side! Darn, how am I gonna hide this from House?

Before he had time to change his mind, the elevator doors opened again. He was late. Everyone else was already in House's office. Well, everyone besides House, who only ever showed up when he had a case to work on. Since he wasn't there yet, Chase started hoping for a few minutes of rest. Maybe he could drink something hot. Or just sit… maybe close his hurting eyes…

"Nice scarf!", Foreman said, his tone sceptical and his eyebrows raised.

Cameron just smiled at him. "I like it!"

When Chase didn't respond, her expression changed. "Is something wrong?"

"Everything's great…", he managed to stay, then started sucking on his cough drop again, hectically trying to avoid another coughing fit. All the sudden, he felt warm and began taking off his jacket and the silly scarf. Longingly, he glanced over to the coffee machine, when the door opened and House entered the room. As usual, he didn't acknowledge the presence of his team in any way. Instead, he started scribbling words onto the board.

"Swollen lymph nods, blurred vision, muscle aches, fever…" Chase felt the sudden urge to chuckle. It was almost as if House was describing his, Chase's, ailments.

"Any suggestions?"

"A parasite?", Cameron suggested.

"A virus?", Foreman said.

"Um…", Chase murmured. He felt like it was his turn to say something, but his mind just went blank. His head was aching… His eyes still hurt. He cleared his throat and Cameron picked up on the talking, making a few more specific suggestions.

House still had his back turned to the board with his head cocked to the side, glancing over the symptoms he had written on it. "The patient is a 32-year-old female who is recovering from a heart transplant. Her immune system is weakened, her symptoms kind of general… It could be anything."

Chase had a hard time trying to focus on the case. His nose was really itchy again, so he turned to the side and rubbed it discretely. When he realized that it had started running again, he looked over to Cameron quickly, who was luckily not paying any attention to him.

"Maybe it's just a bad case of the flu?" Foreman blurted out. "Something has been going around…"

"If that was the case", House responded dryly, "the patient wouldn't be losing her vision. Get to work. I'd like to solve this one before lunch."

"I'll go run some tests for Lyme disease", Cameron said, getting up from her chair.

"And I'll check her for Mono", Foreman announced, also pushing back his chair.

Chase groaned, rubbing his temples, when all the sudden he realized that everyone was staring at them. "Um… I'll go… run some tests as well…" he croaked and stood up, grabbing his own chair when he felt dizzy and off-balance.

He took a deep breath and started walking towards the door, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It wasn't a gentle touch. It was simply a rough way of holding him back.

"You're not going anywhere", House asserted.

"I'm sorry?" Chase sniffed and turned around. Had House really noticed it? He hadn't coughed or sneezed once and he had kept his tissues and cough drops hidden at all times!

House shot him an exasperated glance and rolled his eyes. "You are aware that exposing our patient to your yucky germs could have been her end?! And therefore yours…!" When Chase looked at him bewildered, he added: "So to speak."

"I'b sorry…", Chase murmured, blushing at the audible stuffiness of his nose.

House looked as if he was going to punch him and Chase felt the sudden urge to duck.

"Don't simply apologize! Obviously, you should have thought of this before you dragged your contaminated body in here! You look pathetic and – What? What is it…?"

"Ha… ha… ha-AT-SHEE!"

Chase turned away, his hands over his face and waited for a couple seconds until he was sure that he wasn't going to sneeze again. When he turned back to House, the look on the older man's face was a mixture of disgust and amusement. "Why did you even come here?"

Chase blushed again, feeling weak and dizzy and pathetic. "I… I thought that maybe I could… help solve the case…" He broke off, coughing.

When he was done, he heard House chuckle a little bit. "I was going to simply send you home, you know? But I've changed my mind. You want to help, so I'll let you help. I want you to come up with a brilliant theory until tomorrow that combines the patient's medical history and recent symptoms. If you can't be here physically, you can at least use your brain and contribute some ideas."

"But…", Chase murmured and cleared his throat again. "I don't need to go home. I'll just stay here and look up some…-"

"No. I don't need your germy breath poisoning my room. Bye, bye!" House gave him an ear-to-ear smile and waved sarcastically.

"Alright", Chase whispered, embarrassed. He wanted to slap himself for going to work in the first place, but it felt even worse to get sent home early by his boss. He felt useless and worse than ever. House was still waving, so he just grabbed his jacket and scarf and left the office.

Right after the door closed, a severe sneezing fit came over him, and all he could do was hope that House couldn't hear it through the door.

The light inside the elevator seemed brighter than before and some part of his mind started wondering about his body temperature. It had only been a mild fever when he left the house…

"He-IT-shoo! He-SHOO! Ha-TCHOO!"

Chase sighed and sat up. After getting back to his place, he had first made himself some tea, then actually tried to sleep. As a doctor, he had even considered taking his temperature (after a look at his own glassy eyes and flushed cheeks in the mirror), but no thermometer seemed to be around, so he had dropped the thought. Sleeping wasn't as easy as it should be, though. His head was pounding, keeping him awake. Also, whenever he rested his head on his pillow, his nose got so stuffy that he couldn't breathe through it, but breathing through his mouth only triggered several severe coughing fits. At some point, he had decided to do what House had told him and look up diseases that matched with the symptoms. Since he had truly no clue where to start, he had simply grabbed a medical dictionary. So far he had gone from A to C and made little stars next to all the diseases that included swollen lymph nods, blurred vision, muscle aches and fever as symptoms. Of course, there was also the possibility that the patient had caught a virus that caused only mild symptoms in healthy patients, but with her weakened immune system she had responded differently.

Chase closed the book with growing desperation. House wanted a brilliant idea from him. He didn't feel able to come up with anything at all, let alone something brilliant.

"Ha-TCHEE! He-ESHH…! Ugh…" Can I stop sneezing…?

Chase got up to grab another tissue and maybe get a glass of water, but a wave of dizziness came over him and he had to sit back down immediately. "Maybe I should lay down again…", he muttered to himself, trying to get comfortable on his couch. He was shaken by another painful coughing fit and then dropped back onto his pillows in exhaustion. Chase realized that he wasn't going to make it any longer. He felt tired… so tired… and strangely sweaty.

Robert Chase felt himself drift off into sleep…

Feverish dreams of House yelling at him and firing him over and over again haunted his sleep.

Then there was a woman… their patient… he tried to talk to her, but his throat was too sore and all the sudden there was blood running out of her ears and the corner of her mouth. Where was all the blood coming from? How could he stop it? Was it his fault? Had he caused the bleeding somehow by exposing her to his own germs? His mind was racing and he felt scared and sweaty…

Chase felt himself tangled up in something. It was the blanket he had wrapped himself in at some point. He was on the edge of waking up… but the images of the dream were still fresh in his mind and he dozed off again.

He was back in the hospital and somehow there were cats everywhere! Casually, they strolled around the hospitals beds. Some were taking naps in the patients' beds. Even though he usually liked cats, Chase felt disgust at their sight, aware of the hygienic disaster that this meant for the Princeton-Plainsboro. Their faeces could even cause toxo in some patients and –

He woke up. The young doctor was panting, his clothes sticking to his body, sweat covering his whole body. The dizziness returned, but a sharp thought remained: toxoplasmosis!

In most people toxoplasmosis causes only flu-like symptoms, including muscle aches and swollen lymph nods, but in people with immune disorders the parasite can even lead to a reduced vision.

It was perfect. It was a brilliant theory. He needed to tell House!

Without giving any thought to the way he felt, Chase forced himself off of his couch. Waves of heat came over him, followed by shivers running down his spine, but he didn't care. He needed to leave the House, get back to the clinic and talk to his boss!

As he got up, Chase suddenly became aware that it was dark outside. How long did I sleep?!

Then he realized that House probably wasn't in the clinic even more, but… at home.

Well then, he thought. That doesn't change things. I'll have to tell him anyways.

By the time Chase arrived at House's place, it was snowing in thick flakes. In his hurry, Chase had forgotten the scarf at home and while walking along House's driveway, he noticed that his teeth had started to chatter. Doubt began to cloud his mind. He felt miserable and wished himself back to his couch. Then he thought of their patient and a new wave of determination came over him. House had sent him home, demanding a brilliant idea from him. Now here he was – with the solution.

When pushing the button to ring the door bell, Chase noticed that his fingers had gone completely numb. He made a mental note to buy some mittens soon. They could match my scarf.

The door in front of him was opened right that second and...

"He-Eshoo! He-ESHH!"

Slowly, Chase lowered his arm with the sleeve, which he had used to bury his face in during the sneezes. House stared at him in bewilderment.

"Eww...!"

"Sorry..."

The other man was taking in his appearance from head to toe, scrutinizing his pale face, sore and reddened nose, glassy eyes and trembling limbs. Chase immediately felt the color return to his face. He looked down at his shoes in embarrassment.

"What the hell do you want?", House demanded and Chase flinched at the rough tone of his voice.

All the sudden, he felt small and stupid. "I... well... I had an idea and I thought - " He broke off. Another coughing fit seized control over his body, shaking him, torturing his strained lungs and when it was over he found himself propped up against the door frame.

"Jeez, don't die on my door step", House said with no sign of sympathy at all. "At least come in for that."

Chase did as he was told, only to stand inside House's living room awkwardly, a shiny black piano right next to him. He felt incredibly stupid and the fact that he couldn't stop shivering and shaking didn't improve matters.

"So...", House looked at him, closing the door behind him, and Chase felt the sudden urge to run and hide. "Who gave you my address?"

"Wilson", Chase replied acquiescently, his head too clouded to come up with a convenient lie.

"That traitor!"

Chase didn't know what to say, so he just stood there and pulled his jacket closer around his body.

When he looked up again, he was surprised to see that House's expression had changed from anger to something like... concern? His boss's blue eyes were looking straight at him and Chase felt uncomfortable and naked somehow.

"Are you cold?", House asked, cocking his head slightly.

"Pretty much." Is he going to offer me a cup of tea or something?!

"You look sweaty, though."

"Hm."

House still wouldn't take his eyes off him. "What was your temperature the last time you took it?"

"I didn't."

"You look like you're running a fever."

"Oh." Chase felt himself blush. Again, he didn't know what to say. Somehow, his body felt heavy all the sudden and he wished he could lay down or something...

"You sit down!", House demanded.

"But..."

"That's an order from your boss, Chase!"

Too weak to resist, Chase stumbled over to the couch and sat down. Admittedly, it was a relief.

Still he was embarrassed and felt awkward in House's living room. Therefore he was lucky, when House only shot him a short glance and then left the room, so Chase had time to massage the temples of his aching head. Right when he began to wonder where House had gone, the older man returned with the words: "I can't find my thermometer."

"Well", Chase said, somewhat relieved. "That's okay. I'll just tell you what I want to say and leave."

When he made a weak attempt to get up, House took a couple of steps towards him as if he was going to push him back down. "You're not going to leave. Be reasonable for once, Chase! You're burning up and you need to let me feel just how bad it is!"

Chase simply sighed and sunk deeper into the fabric of the couch, while his boss sat down next to him and placed a cool hand on his forehead. His other hand, he put down on his own forehead to compare the temperature.

"So?", Chase inquired feebly.

"It's too high, I can tell that much!"

"Okay... can you tell how high it is exactly?"

"No, but my educated guess is 103 degrees."

Well, that would explain the dizziness and the way that all strength had drained from his muscles.

"Don't get up", commanded House and left the room again. Chase closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again, House was back with something that looked like a wet wash cloth.

"Here. Put this to your forehead."

"That's okay", he replied and refused to take the cloth out of House's hand. He decided at once that this was the time to leave. He wasn't going to get comfortable, he hadn't come to be mothered by his boss. "I'm not that sick! Actually, I'm fine!", he said and made another attempt to get up.

House did nothing more than raise the volume of his voice a little bit, but it was effective.

"As a doctor, you know better! And if you don't, I'll have to fire you."

These two sentences were enough to take all determination off Chase's mind. In combination with the raging headache that struck him as soon as he lifted his body off the couch, they were enough for his legs to give in. He found himself back where House had directed him. Chase emitted a sigh, closing his eyes for just a moment. He could see now that it had been a mistake to come at all.

"Look. I don't want to cause any trouble", he said and had to clear his throat. He tasted something like blood in he back of his mouth. "I'm just going to get back home and I promise I'll lay down and maybe take a day off..."

"No", interrupted House. "I can't let you go now. Your temperature is alarmingly high and its snowing outside, so the roads are too icy to drive on. Believe me, I'd love to have my house back to myself again, but I'm not going to risk anything just so you can sleep in your own bed tonight. Plus, you've already done something stupid and irresponsible today by coming here. If I let you go now, you'd probably proceed to do stupid things and since you're part of my team, it would reflect badly on me!"

Wow. Again, an awkward silence started spreading across the room. Chase's head was pounding and this time he didn't care that House was around. Gently, he started rubbing his fingers in small circles on his temples, mumbling something like: "Ouw... my head."

House sighed audibly, then got up a third time. While he was gone, Chase secretely picked up the wet wash cloth and held it to his forehead. The immediate cold was pleasant and welcome.

Nonetheless, when he saw House entering the room again, he put it down quickly.

"Here", the older doctor said, handing him a small, white pill.

"Vicodin?", Chase exclaimed in disbelief. House doesn't share his drugs!

"Just one for your head! And only if you promise to stop whining."

Chase nodded weakly, then swallowed the pill without further resistance.

House was still looking at him. "Why did you even come here in the first place?"

"I had an idea about the case and thought I should tell you", Chase said. His own voice sounded like a stranger's to him and somehow like he was under water or something.

House's voice was a little clearer. "You're an idiot, Chase!"

"Hm...?"

"You realize you could have asked Wilson for my cell phone number instead of my address and simply texted me?"

Chase felt so miserable, somehow he stopped caring that it was House who was sitting right next to him and simply rested his head on the couch, soon curling up into a fetal position, shivering violently. He didn't notice much about his surroundings anymore, but it was still a little strange when he felt someone covering him with a blanket. His eyelids where heavy, so heavy... Dullness sunk over him and he heard the other man's voice only from a distance.

"If you need me, call for me."

The words didn't mean anything to him. He was already in a far-away world of bright, confusing colors and strange sensations...

Feverish dreams were haunting his light sleep. Mostly he saw only shapes and colors and sometimes single objects like a vicodin pill, his scarf or his medical dictionary. Then there was a face and it looked like Cameron's, but it was distorted somehow. He felt like she was squating in front of his bed and her eyes were wide with concern. Then she reached out and touched his face and her hands were soft and cool.

"Thank you...", he mumbled. "That's good. Please don't leave..."

But then her face changed again and she didn't look like herself anymore. He recoiled from her touch with a jerk and woke up in a pool of his own sweat. "Ugh..." It took him a while to free himself of the blanket he had tangled himself up in during his sleep. When he was finally in a sitting position, his mouth dropped open at the sight of the things on the coffee table next to him. There was a cup and a can of something that was probably tea. Right next to it stood a jug with orange juice and a clean glass. There were some crackers and... a roll of toilet paper.

One look at the stuff was enough to help him remember where he was and why he had come there. My idea...! He hadn't told House about his theory yet!

New excitement come over him and Chase looked around in the room, but House wasn't there. He coughed from the exhaustion of lifting his body off the couch, but then he started walking through the living room. It was strange... he felt a little bit like he wasn't touching the ground at all. Light-headed. Now... what was that? His legs were unsteady and his vision blurred. Then he fell.

The hand was on his forehead again. Cameron's hand! Only it didn't feel like Cameron at all. It was bigger and stronger and felt more like a man's hand... House!

"What in the world were you doing?" He was mad. This wasn't good. "I put everything right next to you on the table! I even got you some orange juice! You had no need at all to get up!"

He cleared his throat, trying hard to talk and possibly defend himself. "I was just looking for you."

"Why?!"

"Uh... don't know."

"Moron!"

Chase blushed and opened his eyes, looking straight into his boss's face. The other man grabbed his shoulders and helped him to his knees. "Think you can get up?", he asked with poorly disguised annoyance.

"Yup", Chase replied, even though he wasn't sure. He took a deep breath and managed to stand up somehow.

"You really are irresponsible", House stated.

"But..." Chase heard the desperation in his own, hoarse voice. "What's wrong with me? It was just a cold!"

House shook his head at him. "Ever considered that maybe it isn't just a cold? Really, as a doctor you should know better. By just having one look at you, I can tell that you have caught yourself a semi-severe case of the flu!" When Chase said nothing, he added: "Idiot."

Chase whimpered against his own will and took a couple of baby steps towards the couch. House was right behind him, ready to catch him should he pass out again.

As soon as Chase was safely back on the couch, House's blue eyes started piercing him again. "Next time you wake up, you call for me, alright? Or else you're fired!"

Chase could only nod. There was a tickle in the back of his nose again, getting stronger and...

"Ha-ITSCH!"

House clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Bless you, I guess."

"Thangg- ah... ha... ha... HA-TCHEE!"

"You done?"

"Ha-ESHOO! Ha-NGH!"

"Bless you. And bless you."

"Thaggs..."

To his surprise, he saw House reach for the roll of toilet paper and hand it to him.

When noticing the younger doctor's puzzled expression, he explained: "I was out of Kleenexes. But this will do, right?"

Again, Chase only nodded and turned away, to blow his nose gently into a couple of sheets of the toilet paper. He felt himself blush at the wet, gurgling sound. He heard House voice behind him. "How are you feeling?"

"Like crap", he replied honestly.

"That's exactly what you look like!"

"Ha. Ha."

"You should lay down again. And maybe use some of this ice to cool yourself down. You still look pretty feverish."

Chase let his body drop into the softness of the sofa and let out a deep sigh. "I can't move", he stated and started coughing again. Talking was too much right now.

He blinked sleepily and saw House's hand coming down to his forehead, holding an ice cube. When he started rubbing it slightly against Chase's face, it was the most pleasant thing he had ever felt. He gave in to the wet liquid and leaned himself closer to House's hand.

During the next half an hour, Chase was in a state somewhere between sleeping and being awake.

Bits and pieces of his dreams flashed in front of his eyes when he closed them, but he was still conscious enough to feel how House cooled his face with ice and later with the wash cloth, how he put a cup of tea to his lips and had him inhale the steam before forcing him to take tiny sips. He heard House's foot steps as he left and dozed off, only to be awaken by a cold something in his mouth.

"What the...?"

"Sh! I finally found the thermometer!"

"Ahh... don't! I don't want to..." Chase did his best to talk around the cold metal thing, but even for his own ears it was hard to make out any words.

"Shut up and let me take your temperature alright. Or else you're fired."

So Chase simply leaned back and when the thermometer began to emit a high-pitch peeping noise and House pulled it out of his mouth, he opened his eyes. For some reason, a smile seemed to flash over the other man's face for a moment. "103.1. I was exactly right!"

Then the smile vanished and he started putting the ice to Chase's overheated face again.

"My throat hurts...", Chase whined before he could stop himself and House lifted the cup of tea to his lips again with a sigh.

"I'm just glad not all of my patients are as annoying as you!", he said, but Chase thought he heard him chuckle a little bit. "Really glad you're part of my team, Chase! I couldn't dream of anything better than mothering you and feeding you vicodin and maybe some chicken soup at some point."

But Chase had stopped listening right when House had mentioned the team. That's why he was here! His theory!

He pushed the other man's hand away (No!, screamed a voice in his head as the pleasant cool of the ice cubes vanished...) and tried to sit up again. "Listen!", he said urgently. "I have to tell you something! It's important!" Another coughing fit got him, but he fought it down and didn't let himself get distracted this time. "I figured out our case! It's toxo!"

House blinked. "Toxoplasmosis?"

"Exactly! All the symptoms match! Swollen lymph nods, fever... And since her immune system was weakened by the organ transplant... the blurred vision also makes sense!"

After talking all those sentenses so fast in a row, exhaustion came over him again and he had to close his eyes. The lights were too bright somehow, even though there was only one lamp burning in the room.

"You came here all the way to tell me that?" House sounded mad and amused at the same time.

"You told me to come up with something brilliant!", Chase answered defensively.

He could hear the smile in House's voice, as he spoke: "Actually, I only said that so you wouldn't feel as useless! I didn't really expect you to come up with anything. This whole genius business is kind of my thing, you know? So you can just leave it to me!"

"But..." Chase sniffed miserably. He felt on the edge of tears. "Will you test her for it, though?"

"I'll call Cameron quick."

Chase forced himself to stay awake until the other man returned.

"So? Whad did she say dnow? Is idd... toxo?" House gave him a somewhat sympathetic look at the sound of his congestion and handed him the roll of toilet paper once again.

As Chase blew his nose, he shook his head. "Sorry. She already tested the patient for toxo and all the tests were negative. She came up with that before you, I'm afraid."

"Wow." He put the used toilet paper next to the other pieces on the coffee table and rolled himself back into his preferred fetal position. Dr. Robert Chase felt small and miserable and weak and like a total idiot.

"It's not my fault you're here!" House did nothing to make him feel better. "Could've just texted me, remember? Moron."

There was a silence, only interrupted by the sounds of Chase's congested breaths. Then all the sudden he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"It was still a good idea, though", House said with a stunning warmth in the tone of his voice.

"Thanks."

"Oh, just go to sleep, alright? Say one more word and you're fired!"

But Chase could hear the smile in House's voice and could already feel himself drift towards the numbness of a deep, recovering sleep...

THE END