"Differential Diagnosis?"

Foreman looked up with a raised eyebrow as he watched his boss uncap the dry-erase marker.

"You haven't told us anything yet."

"Yeah, see I thought it might be fun to try it this way first."

An eager look on his face, Chase lifted himself up in his chair and shrugged. "Sarcoidosis."

House rolled his eyes. "I was kidding."

Cameron extended her hand for the file House was holding. "Patient history?" She queried, as House hugged the file closer to his chest.

"No, I don't think so."

"How do you expect us to treat someone if we don't know what's wrong with them?"

"Oh Foreman, Foreman, Foreman. A real doctor wouldn't ask that."

Foreman rolled his eyes at Chase who was trying not to laugh. "Could you tell us who we're treating?"

House seemed to consider the Australian's question for a moment before lifting his marker up to the board. "You," he answered after a moment as his hand led the marker to spell, "WOMBAT," in capital letters across the top of the board.

"Excuse me?"

"Did I stutter?"

A look of confusion graced Chase's features, in a way that contrasted nicely with Foreman's annoyance. Only concern stretched Cameron's down turned mouth.

"What's wrong with Chase?"

"Believe me, Cameron, I ask myself that everyday."

"Seriously," Foreman butted in. "Why are we doing this? There's nothing wrong with him. He's fine. He's great."

"Wow you two should just skip all the flattery and get married now."

Foreman managed to resist the urge to roll his eyes again, although it took amazing willpower.

"We do not have a case, at the moment," House began explaining. "So we are going to make one. Now, Cameron, you're reasonably bright. Tell me, what, psychologically speaking, happens to every med student at one point or another?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment. Might as well go along with House. "They think they have some type of disease."

"Excellent. Now Foreman, what do they do?"

"They..." He sighed. "They go to get blood tests and scans to find out if there's anything wrong with them. They never have the disease they think they do."

"Exactly Foreman. Wow, one might think you're a doctor or something. Chase. What happens through the course of taking all the tests?"

"Either nothing, or they look so hard they find something that normally they never would have known about until much later, like a small brain tumor or something. Then they worry about it for the rest of their lives instead of living care free until it presents itself."

"Gosh, you're better than Foreman. Foreman your fired."

"Ha."

"So, let me get this straight," Cameron started, standing up and walking over towards the white board.

"You're board so where going to test Chase, whose perfectly fine, until we find something wrong with him, to keep you entertained?"

"Something like that, yes."

"Ummm..." Chase looked uneasy.

"Oh relax. I'll buy you a lollipop if you're good."

"Yeah, that makes unnecessary scans, blood tests and needless worrying for the rest of my life worth while," he muttered with a smirk.

"Oh suck it up."

---

"Is this really going to make you happy? Because if it is, it's kinda sick."

They were in the lab examining blood samples under the microscope. Chase was trying not to look at the little vials of his skin and internal fluids.

"I'm a sick person. Have you learned nothing at all in the time of your fellowship with me?"

Chase shook his head but smiled.

"Remind me again, why I am wasting my time looking at Chase's saliva?"

"Be grateful Foreman," Cameron muttered. "I've got his pulmonary surfactant."

Chase lifted his eyes away from his microscope far enough to glare at House. "I still can't believe I let you stick a needle into my lung for that."

House snapped his fingers with manufactured surprise. "That reminds me!" He declared. "Tomorrow at nine is your colonoscopy."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"Nope! If I was kidding you I think I'd say something like, tomorrow at nine is your square dancing lesson, or tomorrow at nine is when I'm having you sit for a painting, or--"

"You're giving me a colonoscopy because there is nothing wrong with me? That tells me there's something wrong with you."

"Oh relax Chase. It won't hurt. In fact you might even like it." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively in a way that made Cameron blush and Foreman look ill. "God, you're a perv House."

"You have to love the way you think Chase," House countered casually. "'My doctor tells me that my colonoscopy shouldn't be too bad so that must mean he's an old pervert.' Sorry I suck at British accents."

"Australian."
"Riiiight."

He turned back to his examination of the slide under his microscope.

"What's that?"

"What?" Chase stood up and craned his neck over towards House's microscope.

House pushed him back, a look of concern spreading across his face.

"Cameron," he began, signaling her over. "Does this look like a cancer cell to you?"

Cameron gasped and stood up so fast she knocked her chair over. She was behind House in a second, adjusting the microscope as Foreman and Chase stared, unmoving where they stood.

"No."

"Yeah, I didn't think so." He pushed her back and readjusted the lens for his eye.

"You bastard!" Chase started, but House cut him off.

"Makes you grateful doesn't it?"

Chase kept glaring, but sat back down. He didn't look as angry as Cameron, or as pissed as Foreman, who seemed to think that this was an all time low, even for House.

"You know, I don't really get you Chase," House admitted after a moment.

Chase didn't answer his boss, but slipped a new slide under the magnification.

"I say that we're going to try to find something wrong with you, you go along with it for a lollipop. I take skin samples and blood samples and a million other bits and pieces of you and you consent. I inform you that I'm going to give you an unneeded colonoscopy and you barely bat an eye, and then I pretend you have cancer and the most you do is flippantly call me a bastard. I've done less to patients and gotten sued over it."
Chance crossed his hands over his chest.

"I guess, unlike them, I already know you're an asshole."
Foreman sucked in a breath. "Burn."
Cameron sighed.

"House, maybe we shouldn't be doing this."

Of course it would be Cameron to express the moral qualms about the study.

House rolled his eyes. "Just because--"

"My god."

Chases voice cut across House's words and three heads turned towards him. He was chewing on his lip and his eyes were suddenly unfocused. "House, you really were just kidding right?"

"Uh, duh."

"Well... This really is a cancer cell."

He slumped back in his chair and pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose. "It really... I..." He shook his head and didn't continue. House's hands were already on the microscope. Cameron and Foreman, stuck in the cross fire where scrambling for other samples to view.

"I don't see anything," House muttered after a moment. "Cameron, hand me that other vial."

He prepared the slide in record time, his hands deft and eyes not moving from the viewfinder.

"I guess it's possible that particular cell formation might not mean cancer," Chase said after a moment.

House seemed to be only half listening.

"I wouldn't know what it means. I don't know what the hell you're talking about. I don't see any sort of strange cell formation."
"It could mean, House," Chase pressed on, "It could mean... That we're even."

House stood up and turned towards Chase. Slowly he smirked.

"Oho!"

"Aha!"

"Clever."
"Thanks."
"You pulled it off well."

"Coming from you? Excellent."

"I knew there was a reason I kept you around."

Chase smiled and took his microscope back. "Of course. Besides, cancer? You think you can get rid of me that easily?"

"Blood's clean for basic toxins," Cameron announced, cutting off conversation and glancing over the read-out that had just printed. She smiled. "Not that anyone would believe me now if it wasn't."

---

"Alright, so where are we so far?"

They were back in front of the white board, seated around the table, Chase's newly acquired test results in a folder in front of them.

"Well, he doesn't have cancer." Foreman suggested.

"I like the way you think." House wrote the word "cancer," across the board and crossed it out.

"There. At least now it looks like we've done something."

"Hmm. It's not like I could have just told you I didn't have cancer or anything."

"Yeah. Right. Went there, tried that, remember? You lied. So, have any STD's?"
"No, I--"
"Okay, great, let's test him!"

"You've got to be kidding me."
"Cameron, Foreman, I want those new blood samples run. Test for anything you can think of."

"I'd point out what a waste of hospital money this is, but I know you wouldn't listen."

"Good man, Foreman. Alright Chase, you have a choice: Right here, the bathroom, the clinic, or my office."

"I hate you."

"Not one of the choices."
He turned suddenly to the other two who were still standing around the table, reluctant to leave.

"Did I just tell you two to go somewhere? Oh right, I did. Run the blood tests. Unless you think Chase would like an audience."

"No! Uhhh, I mean..." Chase was paling visibly as he stammered from his place by the board.

"Good, get out."

Shaking his head Foreman lead the way out of the room. Cameron shrugged apologetically and gave Chase an encouraging look as she stepped out.

"Alright, where do you want to do this?"

"You're not kidding?"

"Uhhh. No."
"Seriously House, maybe you should just drop this."

He settled himself down into his usual seat and pulled the newspaper towards himself.

"8 letter word for a 'metal glove.' What the hell would that be?"

There was a snap and he looked up in time to see House pulling on a white latex glove. "Gauntlet. Would you prefer I used one of those?"

Chase was instantly out of his seat and backing up towards the counter.

"House. Stop."

House stopped walking. "Okay, now what."

"House. Please, I really don't want to do this."

"You really don't have a choice."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"What are you, five?"

"No, I just think that trying to find something wrong with me is a bit pointless, and,"

"Are you implying that you're perfect?"

"No, I guess you're just inferring that."

House smirked. "Come on, we can do it in the clinic."

Chase groaned and threw his head back in exasperation. "I'll walk down there with you. I'm not agreeing to anything though."

The walk was silent and rather tense. Chase kept his lips sealed and his eyes set dead ahead. He only briefly nodded at Cuddy as they passed, and didn't speak as they entered exam room two.

House closed and locked the door behind them and then jumped up onto the exam seat.

"I'll be sitting here when you're ready," he informed Chase sarcastically.

"I'll be standing here, not talking to you if you need me. I'm not doing this."

"You made an old cripple limp all the way down here for nothing then. Ouch."

House was really started to aggravate him. And spark several other reactions he'd rather not have.

"It was you're idea!" He informed his obnoxious boss.

"I've got another one. Would it make you feel better to give me an exam and do the swabbing to me first?"

"What is this, 'you show me yours, I'll show you mine?'"

House shrugged. "If you don't want to see." He feigned a sigh.

"I didn't say I didn't want to see, I,--"

"Oh so you do want to see!"

"I-- No! That's not what I meant, I,--"

Chase cut himself off and dropped his head into his hands.

"Fuck," he muttered against his palms.

"Chase, look at me."

"No. I can tell you're smirking at me."
"My goodness, my dear doctor. Why would I be doing that?"

"Because you're a cruel bastard. I don't want to do this."
House leaned his cane up against the seat and rested his chin on his steepled fingers.

"The way I see it, there are really only about, oh, five reasons for your behavior."

"Please don't analyze me, House."
"One, you're really self conscious and just don't want me to see you. Two, you have dirty underwear on today,--"
"Eww."

"Ahem. Three, you do have an STD and you don't want me to know for some reason. Four, you have some sort of rash or deformity, or... well, will you let me do it in a few hours?"

"Ugh. Maybe."

"Then, judging by your reaction to that offer I'm going to go with, or, five, you're embarrassed because you're a wee bit... Excited. You know. Excited excited."

"House? Fuck off."

"But, because I'm a nice guy, I won't pry. You can just deny it all."

"House, shut up. Please. I'll give you more blood samples, I'll give you hair, more saliva, whatever you want. I just don't want to do this."

House heaved a hugely dramatic sigh. "Fine," he conceded at last and for a split second Chase's face brightened. "I'll take a urine and semen sample." He tossed the Australian two small jars from the counter. "I'd say you might find it easier to do the semen first in your current condition, but I said I wouldn't pry."

--

It had been six hours since House had first brought to light his brilliant idea of finding something wrong with Chase. Once again the group was sitting in the lab, verifying under the microscopes, the results that the computers spilled out. Cameron was blushing furiously, almost as much as Chase, as House made semen jokes to the room at large while Foreman checked the sample out under the microscope. "I don't even know what you expect me to find," he announced to House pulling the slide out. "He's fine."

"Keep looking."

Chase was twitching. Maybe it was just for show, maybe he wasn't yet at physical breaking point, but his brain had given up and his hand wouldn't stop shaking. He was nervous and jumpy, sick of being prodded and poked, tired of breaking into a cold sweat every time House looked at him with that appraising searching look. That look that he wished House would give him sometime just for the hell of it, not just when he was hoping to find something wrong.

He was sick to death of Foreman shrugging at him in that, "You know how it goes," way, and even more sick to death of Cameron comforting him with that ingratiating half smile. And so when House said, "We're not stopping until I find something wrong with him," it seemed perfectly logical to Chase to lift up his microscope and slam it down across his own fingers.

There was a collective gasp around the room.

Chase lifted up his hand, the fingers awkwardly bent, and despite the pain coursing through them, a feeling of smug self satisfaction was beginning to creep into his mind.

"Good job House. I think we might have found something wrong."

A look of concern flickered nearly imperceptibly across House's face to be replaced almost immediately by the familiar look of calm superiority.

"I think we have too. Looks like someone needs some thorough psychological testing."