Disclaimer: Don't own.

A/N: Hello! All medical facts are crap and don't actually add up to a real diseases it's all part of my imagination so please bear with me. I'm a stupid teen that doesn't know any medical facts besides how to treat a headache.

The room was loud, really loud. Techno music blasted through the speakers at full volume; the shot glasses lined up in front of Chase sparkled off the disco ball, which was the great thing about the bar. (It was no doubt a bar not a club, but the owner Jean couldn't help but add her own special touches.) Chase turned and looked at his best friend April-May. She was downing her seventh tequila shot and was two behind Chase. She was rambling on about how she was going to get out of New Jersey someday and fly to the other coast to become a supermodel, actress, or Playboy Bunny—anything to make her famous.

Chase chewed on his straw and fiddled with the wrapper, curling it and uncurling it over and over again. He desperately wanted to beg April-May to stay, but it wasn't worth the breath. She has been complaining about where ever she was standing since he'd known her. Her motto was "Anywhere but here," usually she ended up staying and complaining some more.

Chase knew he was the only thing holding her back and tried to feel bad, but really he needed April-May she kept him on his toes and kept him sane; especially after his father's death. He was getting depressed and wanted her to shut up. So he leaned over and kissed her. They weren't dating and she didn't take the kiss as a come on. She seemed to know exactly what Chase was doing and she loved him way too much to prematurely hurt him so she smiled and pulled him on the dance floor; zipping her lips— for now at least.

April-May laughed as she watched Robbie Chase dance, he was a really great dancer, but tonight when he was drunk; he was a horrible dancer. He was like the really overly confident geeky kid at the prom, but she loved that about him. He was her Robbie, he was her heart. The thing that made them best friends was that they knew each other so well. They knew all the secrets they had (and most of the dark ones they shared.) They had dated in high school, in fact they were high school sweethearts (and middle school sweetheart too.) But eventually the fire died out and they were left with a really awesome friendship around the time collage started.

They were both extremely glad that when they broke up April-May had said they should still be friends that they actually were, it was cool. It was kind of like they were dating only without the physical part.

But all of a sudden April-May felt woozy, and then she fell down and hit the floor like a sack of bricks. Her head bounced once and red blood gushed from the wound.

Chase looked at his best friend in shock as she started to seize, despite the fact that he was a doctor he was way too wasted to do much beside scream "Call 911" and hold his shirt to her head to try and stop the blood.

ILoveChaseILoveChaseILoveChaseILoveChaseILoveChaseILoveChaseILoveChase

It was six in the morning and Chase was in the waiting room of the ER. April-May had been in surgery for three hours now and the doctors wouldn't tell him anything because she wasn't family, so much for professional courtesy.

He sat with his head in hands staring at the floor, praying. God, it had been years since he prayed, but April-May was worth ever word—she was his heart.

Suddenly, a wooden cane appeared in his line of vision. Chase looked up to find House standing there looking tired and grumpy, his normal days old beard he wore looked too gruff—even for him, "Go home," he grumbled leaning heavily on his cane.

Chase was so surprised that he had come in early for him the only thought he could muster up was, "What?"

"Your girlfriend is fine she's in recovery. She had a blood clot they took care of it," House sighed collapsing in the chair next to Chase. "Go home. Take the day off," House reached in his blazer's pocket and took out the pill bottle that was forever present and popped two pills.

"I'm fine," Chase said getting up, "I have cloths in my locker I'm going to go take a shower," he stumbled forward and leaned on the wall for support. Taking a deep breath he looked back at House, "and then I'll meet you in the office,"

"You're not coming into work today, you're drunk and soon that will fade into a hangover, if you killed someone because your Dad (that you hated) died imagine how you'll be with your girlfriend sick and a hangover to top it all off," House used logical reasoning, as rude as he was he was right Chase had to admit, but that didn't stop him from glaring and telling him she wasn't his girlfriend.

"Why are you here, House?" he asked. He was so not in the mood for House's games. All he really wanted was to go see April-May, make sure she was okay, and then go home to crawl into his bed and sleep for the next three years.

"Dr. McCormick called; you listed April-May as your next of kin. He was worried you were going to have a mental break, you've been staring at the floor praying for the past three hours," House stated rubbing his eyes.

Chase wondered how Dr. McCormick could tell he had been praying. Had his lips been moving? Wait did he say four hours? Chase thought. Was it really that long? It only felt like a few minutes, perhaps he dozed off. "Well, I'm fine you don't have to baby sit me. I'm a big boy now," He said sarcastically. Right at that moment House's pager went off and he stood up and starting limping towards recovery, "What's going on?" Chase demanded.

"Your girlfriend is dieing," House called over his shoulder.

Chase wanted to follow him and help but he knew in his current state he would hurt more than he could help. So instead he sunk back into his seat, put his head in his hands and prayed.