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Part 2

Chase tossed his bag on the chair and flopped down on his sofa. He had planned to grab a beer from the fridge, but right now he just didn't have the energy to get back up. It had been a spectacularly shitty day, to put it mildly.

Six months ago, Chase had thought he was finally getting wise to House's repertoire of dirty tricks, but then the wanker had really cranked the volume to eleven on his weird shit. A punch in the face, fake cancer, firing him - House had managed to blind-side Chase again and again in the past few months, and not in a good way. Maybe that was at the heart of Chase's ambivalence about losing his job.

They had once had a pretty good relationship. When Chase started working for House, it had been just the two of them in Diagnostics. Sure, House had been constantly snarky and downright insulting at times, but his verbal abuse didn't have that mean edge that developed later. Chase had been acutely aware that he was the object of House's intense scrutiny. Most of it had been purely professional, and rightfully so – he needed to prove he could be trusted with patients, and even more, that he would carry out House's treatment agendas.

No one at the hospital had expected Chase to last long at his job. House had quite the reputation for chewing up and spitting out minions. Some of the turnover was due to House's extremely high standards, but the biggest reason was simply that no one could stand to work with him. Aside from being abrasive in the extreme, the man just wasn't interested to being a traditional mentor. House figured his Fellows should just watch him in action and absorb. God help the hapless colleague who asked for a full explanation of any of House's esoteric and sometimes downright mad diagnoses and treatments. No, you either managed to keep up with House on your own, or you cleared out.

Chase had found it relatively easy to adapt to the realities of his new position. His father had never been particularly nurturing, or stingy with his criticisms, so House's lack of traditional social skills hadn't fazed him. Chase enjoyed the intellectual challenges of trying to keep up with House's brilliance, and appreciated the opportunities he was given to come up with innovative ideas and actually voice them. That type of freedom wasn't often available in the medical profession.

What had puzzled Chase most during his first few months on the job was the impression that, in addition to their professional relationship, House was also appraising him personally, in ways he couldn't quite identify. House never asked him about his past at all, but he would throw out weird comments and watch his Fellow's reactions. Comments about Chase's appearance and sex life were common – comments that could virtually define 'sexual harassment in the workplace', if Chase had taken them seriously. There had been times that Chase almost thought that House was trying to proposition him, in a roundabout and heavily veiled manner. Chase wasn't about to ask, though. And then Cameron and Foreman had arrived, and the dynamic subtly changed. The comments became more conventionally insulting, but they continued, to the extent that, after a month or so on the job, Foreman had felt compelled to bring it up in conversation.

Three years ago

Foreman and Chase were running an apparently unnecessary full-body scan. Neither was much for idle chatter, so they sat in bored silence for a while, until Foreman spoke.

"Hey, man, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"Depends on the question, I suppose," Chase replied.

Foreman could see that Chase was tensing up at the prospect, but decided to jump in anyway. "Are you gay?"

Chase swung his head around from looking at the computer screen to staring at Foreman. "Excuse me?"

Foreman leaned back and gave Chase an appraising look. "It's a straight-forward question. I mean, you don't have to answer it if it makes you uncomfortable. I don't really care one way or the other; just curious."

Chase's attention returned to the screen. "Why would you think I'm gay?"

"Well, the nasty comments that House keeps making to you certainly contribute. He calls you 'pretty' a lot, and that's not something you say to a straight guy unless you want to start a fight."

Chase smiled. "True enough. House says a lot of things about everyone, though. If I listened to him seriously, I'd be afraid you'd steal my lunch money."

"Touché."

Silence settled again, until Foreman said, "So, are you?"

After a moment, Chase smiled and said off-handedly, "Don't know. Never tried it."

"I'll take that as a 'no' then."

"Whatever," Chase shrugged.

"So why do you let House get away with al those insults, then? Masochistic tendencies?"

"I don't much care," Chase said. "He insults people just to blow off steam. I chalk it up to his wanker tendencies and move on. Can't be a masochist if he doesn't make it hurt."

Back to Now

Chase smiled ruefully. Of course, Foreman had spent the rest of the scan time lecturing Chase about sticking up for himself, not taking House's shit, and so on. When it came to earbashing, Foreman could be worse than Cameron. At least she would shut up if you just ignored her for a bit. Once Foreman got a self-righteous roll, he was unstoppable. After a couple of months, their relationship had become strained enough that Foreman just gave up on non-diagnostic conversations with Chase unless Cameron was there too.

Just then, the phone rang. Chase was expecting Cameron to call to see if he was all right. That was a conversation he didn't feel like having right now, so he let the machine pick up.

To Chase's surprise, it was House's voice. "Chase? If you know what's on the PET scan, call me back."

Well, that was strange, he thought. No way House was calling to apologize or take back his pink slip. Cameron and Foreman had both been correct back at the hospital – what happened didn't make sense, and yet House always made sense, in his own way. Of course, it wasn't easy for the mere mortals around him to figure out what that sense might be.

Maybe the reason for the phone call was exactly what House said. If so, apparently neither Foreman or Cameron had deigned to give House the test results he wanted. Now that was an amusing concept – he just hoped that he had been the inspiration for that course of action. Another tiny victory.

If Chase had thought the PET scan was clean, he would have ignored the call entirely. However, the patient probably had a blood clot in her arm that would need immediate treatment, so he decided to return the call. Undoubtedly Cameron and Foreman were taking care of the problem, but there wasn't much point in helping to further increase tension on the team. Things were enough of a mess as it was.

As expected, the conversation was short and odd.

"Returning your call, House."

"Dr. Chase. How are ya?" The jovial tone seemed out-of-place, but then, when was House ever appropriate?

"Better than the patient. She has a hot spot on her humerus, probably a blood clot."

"Thank you. You are indispensable." A short pause. "Uh, you're still fired. Sorry."

Chase hung up and plopped back on the couch. The puzzle kept getting more complicated. Being called "indispensable" was bizarre enough, but "Sorry"? From House? Back to eleven on the weird-shit meter. Someone must have been listening at the other end of the line – Wilson, maybe?

Not a priority worry right now.

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Wilson flopped into his desk chair and buried his head in his hands. He and Cuddy had just confronted House about firing Chase, with typical effectiveness – none. Damn, he hoped he hadn't set this whole mess in motion.

You are not good with change.

That used to be true, but I've changed.

Wilson shook his head at the notion that House had actually changed in any way – he certainly hadn't noticed any relevant signs before their earlier conversation, and it just wasn't possible over the past few hours. No, this was House being that cold-hearted bastard that Foreman saw. This had to be one of House's little head games, with Chase as collateral damage.

Wilson hadn't anticipated Chase being caught in the crossfire like this. He knew that Chase had an indifferent (at best) relationship with Foreman, so Foreman leaving didn't exactly rock his world. House hadn't complained to Wilson about Chase's job performance in quite a while. Lately, in fact, it was as close to the opposite as House ever got. Chase had solved some tough ones, and House had actually commented on it (not that Chase had heard any compliments, Wilson was sure). House had seemed…amused by this turn of events.

Wilson had actually grown to like and appreciate Chase over the past couple of years. It had taken a bit of work, though. He had been livid when Chase ratted out House to Vogler. That had almost gotten both House and Wilson fired, and it just seemed like a weaselly thing to do in any case. The anger began to mellow after Chase and Wilson finally had a conversation a couple of months after the fact.

Two Years Ago

After a lousy day at work, Wilson decided to stop off at the nearest bar and grab a brew. He wasn't in the mood for company, and when he saw Chase, of all people, sitting at the bar alone, staring into a beer like the secrets of the universe were hidden there, his first thought was to ignore him and hide in a booth. Then it occurred to him that his crappy mood might make this the perfect time to confront Chase and vent some of his annoyance. After all, he didn't dare go home and take it out on Julie – things were tense enough between them as it was.

Wilson grabbed the stool next to Chase and ordered a beer. Chase either didn't notice him or wasn't going to look up. Wilson sat there silently, nursing his beer and waiting for Chase to come out of his apparent fugue state.

Finally Chase raised his head, and registered the older doctor's presence with a slight start. They had been studiously avoiding each other at work since Vogler left. Chase had to know that Wilson told House to fire him – House would never have let something like that go unmentioned. Well, Wilson thought, with any luck, Chase would also know that the time to apologize had come. In fact, it might be the last chance he would have at an audience.

Chase apparently did know this was up to him. "Hey, didn't see you there."

"Apparently not." Wilson had no intention of making this easy. Let Chase wade in and then get an earful.

"Look, um… I know this is late in coming, and it's not much consolation, but I truly never intended for you or anyone else to get mixed up in what was going on between House and me last spring," Chase said softly.

Wilson definitely wasn't in the mood for hushed conversation. "You're right. It's not much consolation, seeing as I almost lost my job because of what you did." Chase looked pained at Wilson's statement. "I guess you didn't think about anything but saving your own ass when you ratted House out to Vogler. You must have something going for you if House didn't fire your sorry ass at the time, but I'll be damned if I know what that something would be."

Chase grimaced and stared at his beer again for half a minute, then looked directly at Wilson for the first time that evening. "I don't blame you for being angry with me. Tattling on House was a bloody lousy thing to do, and even if it hadn't turned out badly, I would have been ashamed of having done it. But I hope you'll believe me; I never thought that House or anyone else would actually be hurt by it. I thought House was good enough to get around it all, that Cuddy could cover his back, and I couldn't have imagined that you would get caught in the middle. Everything I told Vogler he would have found out from someone else eventually. I just thought that if I got there first, I could buy some good will and hold on to my job."

"Oh, and it never occurred to you that Vogler would use the information against House? Did you consider the fact that if you kept your job, either Foreman or Cameron would lose theirs?" Wilson wasn't bothering to hide his distaste now.

"I never thought that the information I provided was all that valuable. House has made enemies all around the hospital. They've experienced the verbal abuse, seen the arguments he has with colleagues. They know he blows off his clinic hours and doesn't interact with even his own patients much. They know how underhanded he can be to get what he wants when he thinks he's right. They could have told Vogler the same things I did; I just had direct access when they happened."

"What I can't figure out is why House even allowed you to stay after Vogler's power play. You signed up with the wrong side on that one. I don't know how he could work with you after that."

Chase smiled ruefully. "One of life's great mysteries, that. At the time, when I didn't get sacked, I just assumed that House was enjoying his justifiable opportunity to abuse someone. He's certainly been stoked to get his pound of flesh out of me; made me feel like a wally ten times over."

Wilson frowned. Chase's accent always got thicker after a couple of beers. "Wally?"

Chase snorted. "A complete screw-up. Which I was, in Vogler's case, so I shouldn't be whinging. And on the plus side, I've learned a lot of medical trivia while I'm being punished."

A gloomy silence fell between them. When the barman came back by, Chase ordered another round of beers. "My shout, Dr. Wilson. I owe you that much penance, at the very least."

They both fell silent again as the beers arrived. Then Chase muttered, "If House wasn't such a wanker…" He paused and shook his head slightly. "If he had just made that bloody speech, things might have settled down and no one would have lost their jobs. What I did…it would just have been between House and me then."

Wilson finally asked the question that had troubled him all along. "Why did you do it?"

With a grimace, Chase said, "Bloody hell if I know anymore. It seemed rational at the time, I suppose." After a pause, he continued. "That's not entirely true. I was angry at House; angry at myself, too. After my wrong leg screw-up, he really ripped me a new arsehole. House couldn't have made me feel worse than I already did without his comments. The patient was just fine, but I realize that my mistake could've had horrible repercussions. It was just that…"

Chase seemed at a loss for words for a moment. Then, quietly, "He really just seems to enjoy yanking my chain; always has. I've seen the others make mistakes almost that bad, and House didn't jump on them with both feet flying. Then he started to hint that I might lose my job, and there he is, playing fast and loose with the transplant committee. I just panicked, started snooping around; the rest you pretty much know."

Wilson considered this for a moment. Chase wasn't wrong about House favoring him for abuse, even before Vogler. The kid didn't even have to do anything wrong; sometimes his mere presence seemed to bring out something rather mean in House. "Okay, so if House treats you like crap, why are you so eager to keep your job?"

Chase frowned and stared at his beer again silently. Then he raised the glass and drained it in a single gulp, setting the glass back down heavily on the napkin. It looked to the older doctor as if Chase wanted to say something, but couldn't find either the right words or the resolve to say them. So Wilson sipped his beer and waited for Chase to gather his thoughts.

Finally, after several minutes, Chase softly said, "Do you know what it's like to have someone constantly criticizing you, judging your every move? My father didn't think I was suited to be an intensivist. He didn't think I was good enough to work for House. So, every time he objects, I've had to show him that he's wrong, whatever that takes. I don't suppose it's one of my more endearing qualities, but there it is. When my father was here a few months ago… House knew we weren't on the best of terms, but here he invites the great Dr. Rowan Chase to consult on our case and shoot down all my ideas in public. Maybe House thought it would make me a better doctor, but all it did was open old wounds and make me behave like a bloody arsehole. Maybe that's all House wanted anyway. Coupla FIGJAMs, those two."

Wilson had to laugh out loud at that comment. He'd heard that nickname for golfer Phil Mickelson and knew exactly what it meant. It certainly fit House perfectly, and he suspected that Rowan Chase wasn't far off the mark either. He wondered what it would be like to grow up with all that pressure full-time.

Chase also smiled briefly, then became serious. "All that mess between my father and me, House and then Cameron taking his side… It hurt, and then House was threatening my job. My father would have bloody loved hearing I got fired – that would have put me in my place. I couldn't face that possibility. At that point I would have done just about anything to keep my fellowship."

Wilson saw the pieces of the puzzle falling into place now. Father-son rivalry was hardly a fresh concept, and given the history between these two… Wilson suddenly realized that he knew very little about that history, or about Chase in general. He did know that Rowan was the kind of father who didn't have the decency to tell his estranged son that he was dying. He was apparently content with letting his son get blind-sided by the news, and letting House and Wilson deal with Chase's shock and whatever else he might be feeling when Rowan died.

Back to Now

And they now knew how that had turned out. Chase hid his knowledge of his father's death, and his emotional state, from his co-workers for months; apparently only House had enough of an inside track on Chase to realize why he might have mismanaged Kayla's case. Wilson had heard from House about Rowan's death, but he hadn't felt comfortable broaching the topic with Chase. His own foreknowledge of Rowan's terminal cancer had never set easily with him, and he had just been too cowardly to want Chase to realize his part in the problem.

Well, whether this current mess was his doing or not, it was time to go get some sleep. He had an early colon resection to perform tomorrow.

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TBC

A/N: Feedback brightens my mailbox and makes me update faster.