A/N: There actually is a reason behind me writing this, but it's very long and anticlimactic, so I'll just let you stick to the story. Here.
Disclaimer: Yup. I do. I own House. I'm Katie Jacobs AND David Shore! Because, you know, if I wasn't both of them at the exact same time, I couldn't own House.
Robert Chase walked fairly cheerfully into the conference room that sunny Princeton morning, eager to get to work and leave his tiny, cramped apartment. Yet, even the pleasant doctor was no match for the horrors of The Clichés that awaited him inside!
"Hello, my little balls of sunshine! Good morning ducklings!" House shouted joyfully into the room.
Chase's mouth dropped. "D-did he just call us…ducklings? Is this a joke? Am I missing something?" Everything he'd ever considered unmovable was sure to fall apart now.
Cameron beamed, straightening her hair and giving House a wink. "Hey, secret love of mine!"
Foreman put his arm protectively around Cameron's shoulder. "Not today, you two! You know how Lisa gets."
Lisa?? Does he mean Cuddy? Wait…Cameron just referred to House as…'her love'…and he's not fighting back!
"H-house…I'm going to…getsomecoffee." With that, the young Australian darted out of the conference room and into an eerily bright hallway.
"Wilson! Wilson!"
"No, you cannot have more Vicodin. I just refilled the crate, House."
"It's Chase."
"Oh. Sorry, force of habit. So, wombat, what do you want?"
Wombat?! What the hell? "Uh, nothing."
Wilson peered up at Chase, mouth set in a firm line. It screamed, "Get out, then!" But of course, Wilson couldn't be mean, not in any universe; so his scream stayed silent. However, it didn't matter what Wilson's silent signals were saying; Chase was focused on something else: Wilson's hair.
Normally, the oncologist's hair was neat and orderly, and it was combed back very nicely. Not today. His hair looked like he had stood on a Kansas prairie in the middle of the century's biggest tornado. Like his hair had a mind of it's own. Like his head was covered in a light, cocoa-dusted fluff.
Creeeepy. But Chase couldn't get caught up too long; he had a mission. To figure out what the heck was going on at PPTH.
"No, wait." He started cautiously. "Has House…have you noticed anything different lately?"
Wilson twirled his pen. "No, not really. Except you—you're a lot smarter than I remember."
Chase stood back, greatly irritated and trying not to show it. No way this was Wilson. No way he would ever say something like that. Besides, it wasn't Chase who was different; it was everyone else. Right?
"Yeah, okay, Dr. Wilson. I've got to go now…g'day." At that, Chase slammed the breaks. No. No! I didn't just say that! That didn't come out of my mouth. I've never said stuff like that, and I never will. I did not say g'day! I can't have!
It was then Chase realized that whatever was happening to him was far beyond what his mind could comprehend. He ran into the hallway and sunk into a seat in the clinic, sadly running his fingers through his hair.
Suddenly, a woman ran up to Chase, throwing down a patient's file with considerable force. It wasn't Cuddy. Actually, he had no idea who it was. The woman was petite, with shockingly long red hair, nearly down to her ankles. It was braided.
Her eyes pierced his thoughts, grabbing them and shaking them upside down. She had purple and green irises, and little flecks of gold coloring were sprinkled throughout. Her cheeks were unhealthily pink, and she looked like a freakishly athletic runway model. No wonder people always said 'be happy the way you are'. Perfection was scary.
Finally, Chase snapped back into reality. "Hello, Miss…" he took a moment to read her nametag. "…Miss Mary-Sue. Can I help you?"
She cocked her head with a scary grace. "Yes! Take this, Robert."
Chase felt sick. "Dr. Chase." He reached out for the file tentatively and opened it. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "If this is a clinic patient, you need to call the family. This guy's been dead for over an hour."
The nurse smiled. "Thank-you, doctor! I'll be sure to pass a good word with Doctor House, if you know what I mean." She winked unnaturally.
"No, I don't. Goodbye." And with that, Chase ran out of the clinic, into Cuddy's office. Maybe he could get some answers out of her.
Chase walked valiantly in, pushing open the doors of her office. "Dr. Cuddy, I—" He pushed back in horror. Cuddy was there; to be sure…but with her was House, painting her walls a brilliant pink.
"Hello, Aussie. Doesn't this look nice? Gregory knows that I can make him do anything because he secretly loves me!
House smiled. "Yeah! Isn't it great? I get the boss and your girlfriend, too!" Chase collapsed onto the ground.
…And then he woke up. Chase spent the next several hours clutching the blankets surrounding him in fear. "…I'm sorry for waking you...I needed to hear someone's voice."
The calm on the other end of his phone reassured him. "Just go to sleep. We've got a big case in the morning."
The end.
