A/N: If this is on your alerts list and you haven't reviewed, boo on you! Actually, I'm flattered you like it regardless. But still! Hmph!

Nothing explicit this chapter, sorry. Next time there will be.

Chase slipped into the clinic to look for Foreman and Cameron, but instead got himself noticed by all the wrong people.

Cuddy and Wilson descended on him and backed him into a corner. "Where is he!" she demanded.

"Where is who?"

"Priests make terrible liars," Wilson sighed. "Where is House?"

Chase had never considered his fuse to be particularly short, but when the traitor tried to take a paternal tone with him, he snapped. "In his office! Trying to do his job – probably for the last time, thanks to you. Now get your goddamn hands off me."

Wilson had been touching Chase's shoulder, his habitual talk to me, I care pose, but withdrew right away, leaving Chase free to push past them and continue on his mission. "Well, I don't know what you think you're doing," Cuddy called after him. "House is off the case."

"But I'm not. And I'm going to do what is most likely to save my patient: getting a consult with the best diagnostician we have. Have either of you got a problem with that?"

"I…no," she sighed, anger melting from her all at once. "Chase, Dr. Wilson did what he thought was right, and I… stand by him. We just want to help House…"

"Didn't you people learn your lesson with the leg? He doesn't need that kind of help! It's no wonder he-" Chase caught himself just in time. Allowing himself get all weepy about House letting people in and shutting people out would just not be very impressive right now. He had shown temper; that was good. Let them know he wouldn't be pushed around. Next he would need a diagnosis – and House in good enough shape to bargain rationally with it. "Just tell me where Foreman and Cameron are," he said wearily. "We've got work to do."

But instead, Cuddy and Wilson dragged Chase back upstairs, wanting to get a better picture of House's condition before they agreed to back even a single inch off the case. When they burst in, he was sitting at his desk, pulling at his lip, thinking.

He looked up and frowned. "When I said to bring me the posse, it was a figurative posse. I meant Foreman and Cameron – not the actual mob of idiots trying to throw me in prison."

"Oh, did you? I got confused," Chase said sullenly, shooting them a death-glare.

But they didn't return it – they were both too busy staring at House. "Shouldn't you be detoxing?" Wilson asked, almost desperate.

"Not today," House chirped with his most innocent smile. In fact his stomach was still rolling a bit, but slowly. And he had mostly stopped sweating. "So, where are my henchpeople? Chase gave me a rundown of what's been-"

"Are you high?" Cuddy came up and leaned close to him, checking his pupils.

He checked her cleavage in return and didn't complain.

Again Chase felt his temper flaring. "Why do you always assume-"

"Because he's a junkie!" Wilson snapped.

There was silence for a moment, and then House locked eyes with Chase. "It's a pet name," he assured, almost quickly enough to hide his hurt feelings.

Still feeling unusually in charge, Chase decided there was no reason why everyone else shouldn't have to face reality. "They think you took pills. Why don't you show them?"

"Show us what?" Wilson asked, disgusted. "Track marks?"

House was usually good at letting people's misguided contempt roll right off him, but today had been something of a rough day and all at once he found himself nearly as indignant as Chase. "You want to know what I'm on?" he asked. "Fine." He stood up, came around the desk with a few short jerky steps, and yanked down his pants and underwear. "Now you know."

Cuddy tried several times to speak. "Oh my God," she managed at last. Wilson's jaw was working and his lips pressed together, but he couldn't quite put words together. Even Chase winced a little – the thick dark welts were well beyond anything he'd ever experienced for himself, and he imagined they must hurt like hell.

"Are we all finished checking out my ass?" House asked cheerfully, pulling up his pants. He turned to face them and defiantly met the stares one at a time. "High," he scoffed, shaking his head as though disappointed. "There we go judging books by their covers again. Have you guys learned nothing from our friends the little people? Junkie? Just because I pop as many pills as a junkie doesn't mean I…" his eyes narrowed.

Chase knew that look. "What is it? House, what did you just… oh God, you do. You know something." He backtracked over what House had just said and tried to piece together his train of thought. It took a bit, but then all of a sudden it hit him like a sledgehammer. He gasped. "You mean you don't think she…"

House grinned at him. "Stupid assumption on our part, no?"

"But then… that would make it a-"

"Yup. Which puts one hell of a spin on the differential…" There was a moment of silence. "I think I have an idea."

"You- You know what's wrong with her?" As House was far too smug to talk to just now, Cuddy turned to Chase instead. "What's he talking about?"

"No," Chase said coolly. "Let him tell it to you himself – if he wants to."

"If he…" Wilson sounded almost offended. "How can you stick up for him? He- he punched you!"

Chase snorted. "Yeah, I think we're all squared away on that now."

"Although I probably still owe you an apology," House pointed out.

"Which I'm not holding my breath for."

House nodded approvingly. "Smart kid."

Wilson watched their easy back-and-forth and felt a little jealous – it was usually so hard for House to handle even the most meaningless moments of human connection, but here he was, trying to make peace, practically apologizing, even stealing a quick look to make sure the kid understood him… Which he did. That's not fair, Wilson thought, I'm the only one who speaks Housinese!

"Now," said House, "If you two are satisfied that I'm in my right mind, go get me the rest of my team."

"Your team?" For some reason, Cuddy looked like she was about to cry. "If that's what you want… Of course." She turned to go, and Wilson thought fast. With her weak like this, maybe now was the time to throw himself on her mercy (and her lawyers) and try to avert the disaster that was nearly upon them.

"Wait," he said. "Guys… I talked to Tritter. Told him I wouldn't testify."

House only looked bored, but Chase jumped on it. "And?"

"And… he said it wouldn't matter. Said he'd use my previous statement, and throw us both in jail."

"Then that was useful."

Cuddy, predictably, saw hope. "Don't you think a good lawyer could do something with this? Get that statement discounted somehow? All the poor dying patients you had to go save, blah blah blah, you'd have said anything to get your practice back…" She turned suddenly to face him full on. "But you have to make up your mind, Wilson. If you cancel the deal, House risks jail and he won't get the treatment he needs for his huge, huge addiction. On the other hand, if you stick to the story you told Tritter, he's got no intention of agreeing to rehab and he is definitely going to jail." She took a deep breath. "Before you take back your statement, you need to be sure: do you stand with House, or not?"

Just a minute ago, it seemed, they had been hitting the bars together and checking out skateboards. And now…

Right or wrong, this had to be undone. He nodded. "Whatever you need me to say."

Cuddy put a finger in his face. "I will call a lawyer. None of you make a single move without first asking me!" She marched out.

House made a big show of watching her butt, then said to Wilson: "I told you she was a mean mommy!"

Wilson's jaw dropped. His best friend was sitting there covered in actual physical wounds because he, Wilson, wouldn't prescribe him the medication he needed. He was facing jail because Wilson hadn't managed to muster up the loyalty that his poor abused minions had shown even under pressure. He was in danger of losing everything that made his life bearable, and still, he joked. Why? Either to show that he'd somehow already forgiven Wilson his appalling conduct… or because, loudly-trumpeted sense of entitlement notwithstanding, betrayal was really no more than he expected.

Wilson felt very sick all of a sudden. His stomach knotted and his eyes burned, so before he embarrassed himself by crying or puking, he turned and hurried out of the office.

"She's not that mean!" House called after him, then turned to Chase. "Go get the others. Let's get to work."

TBC.

Next chapter will have some more… erm, creative therapy. Possibly a little angst as well. Possibly a little Tritter. Talk to me!