SUMMARY: Chase is getting it together, and House is making life more complicated, whether Chase likes it or not. And right now, he doesn't.

DISCLAIMER: Not mine, although I have a few suggestions. There's still a chance to pull this season out of the toilet, PTB. Don't eff it up!

A/N: My beta (Yay, Laura!) suggested that I put the text messages in bold. As always, the thoughts are in italics.

Oh, and this probably loses a lot unless you've read the last scene in Part 9 recently.

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Part 10

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OK, another meeting with Chase that didn't go well, House admitted to himself as he sat in his office the next morning. What's my next move? He wasn't sure what was going on with Chase, but now he had a new part of the puzzle to solve. Thank you, Chase; you're the inscrutable gift that keeps on giving.

He had no doubts that he'd managed to cross all sorts of lines of acceptable behavior over the years, but Chase had kinda, mostly, been a good sport about it before. Sure, House had annoyed and insulted the younger doctor constantly, but Chase had a lot more tolerance for House than the vast majority of people, and he kept coming back and accepting more of the same.

House wondered how much being fired actually had to do with Chase's current state of mind. He could readily admit that it wasn't his smoothest move, but damn it, Chase was ready to move on from the Fellowship. Chase's self-confidence had grown so much those last few months, it was pointless for him to remain under House's supervision.

Years ago, Chase had been so worried about being fired he'd made a deal with Vogler to keep his job. House had always suspected that Rowan Chase was part of the reason for that. After Dear Old Daddy Chase tried to convince House over the phone that his son wasn't all that special and certainly not worth the trouble of bringing over from Australia, House had, of course, immediately hired the kid, figuring that the drama alone would make it all worthwhile. Damned if Chase didn't turn out to be as good a doctor as his resume promised, and the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous was just the maraschino cherry on top. Between Chase and Cameron, House was the proud owner of the prettiest department at PPTH.

And the drama House had been anticipating? Except for the time when House had forced Chase and Rowan together, the drama was all locked inside Chase's head. House could never really figure out what had gone through Chase's mind after his father died. The medical mistake he understood. The desperate attempts to save Kayla's life? Those made sense. Fucking up an entire career just to keep a secret that wasn't even incriminating? Well, House had to admit that he might do something like that himself, but he also knew that it wasn't…healthy behavior.

Sooooo…What was going on in Chase's head now? Only one way to find out:

Ask Wilson.

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"House, I hate sounding like a broken record, but how do you expect me to get any work done? Unlike you, I really do have a department," Wilson sighed in exasperation at the man sprawled on his office sofa.

"You're a department head. Delegate!"

"Thanks, House. It never occurred to me. Did it ever occur to you that I'd rather do my job than sit around discussing personal matters I know nothing about?"

"You know something. You've been talking to Chase; I've seen you. He must have told you something."

"And has it ever occurred to you that we have other things to discuss than you? No, wait, I forgot. You're the center of the universe. What else could possibly interest us?"

House scowled at Wilson, then used his wheedling voice. "C'mon, Jimmy. You're the people-person. Either tell me what's up or go find out."

"What would it matter? We have this conversation over and over again. You bother me. I point out that I need to work. You don't go away. I tell you to talk to Chase. You ignore my advice."

"Hey, I did talk to Chase! Your advice sucked."

"It's the only advice I have, House. One conversation does not create the proverbial open lines of communication. Do it again."

"This would be much easier if you'd talk to him for me. You could get him to agree to anything with your mad 'Gee-I'm-sorry-you're-dying-of-cancer' skillz."

"I doubt that, House. Although…" Wilson put on his most studiously thoughtful look. "Maybe I could get him to go out with me. I'm between wives, Chase is available; it could work."

House went back to his scowl. "Very funny. Chase has no funbags; you'd hate it. What kind of a friend are you if you won't do this one little favor for me?"

"Forget it. And I take it that buying you lunch every day doesn't constitute a favor?" Wilson shook his head. "House, what do you expect is going to happen? Chase isn't at your beck and call anymore. What is it you think he's going to do; go back to your place when he doesn't even want to be in the same room with you?"

"Wellll…" House drawled, looking thoughtfully out the window.

Wilson finally put down his pen, leaning back to look at House for a few moments. "You continually surprise me, House. This isn't just about harassing a former employee. You really like him, don't you?"

House grimaced and shrugged. "He's okay."

"No, he's not just okay." Wilson leaned forward and grinned. "You really, really like him."

"Have it your way, but that's definitely at least one too many 'really's," House scowled.

"Oh, this is great. I feel like I've got a front row seat at a Gallagher show, only much, much funnier. I need to find a tarp to hide under. Look, you said Chase was angry, right? And he's still angry? I'd make another bet that you won't make any progress in getting on his good side until you figure out what he's angry about and apologize."

"Yeah," House snorted, "Like Chase expects that to happen."

"House, shut up and go figure it out. That's what you do. And pleeeease, leave me out of it."

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An hour later, Wilson finally spotted Chase in a back corner of the Urology lounge and headed over. Undoubtedly hiding from House; they'll let him stay if they know why he's here. He slid into a seat across from Chase, who was reading the newspaper way too avidly. Realizing that Chase was refusing to acknowledge his presence, Wilson had no choice but to vent his frustration. He reached over, grabbed the top of the paper and yanked it down. When Chase glared at him, Wilson started to pull his own hair with both hands, making the most ridiculous face he could come up with, and growling, "Make. It. Stop."

Chase looked at him in wonder for a moment, and then started laughing. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named is driving you crazy, I take it? I thought that was supposed to be his destination."

Wilson slumped in his seat and rubbed his temples. "He went there, brought it back, and passed it around. I can't take this much longer. I will have to kill him soon and then none of it will matter."

"Wilson, I really am sorry House has stuck you in the middle of whatever he thinks he's doing. What are the chances he'll move on to some other recreational outlet soon?"

"None. He's obsessed with you and your attitude, Chase. He's trying to figure out why you're mad at him, and given that his insight into his own behavior is…unique, he's not having any luck. Therefore, he keeps bothering me about it, and damned if I know exactly why you're mad now, because I don't know why you didn't kill him years ago. God knows he's given you enough provocation."

"That'd be right," Chase sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know what I can do about him at this point. Things between us are so screwed up I don't know if there's a chance of salvaging anything. Do you think I can make him leave me alone? That might get him off your back."

Wilson shook his head sadly. "You know how House is almost as well as I do. As far as he's concerned, he's officially on your case, which means he's like a hungry dog chasing a great big bone."

"Well, that's a flattering image. You're right though; he's planning to hunt me down, chew me up, and shit me out the other end."

"Ugh. Your image is much worse than mine. And under normal circumstances, I'd figure you were right. The strangest part of this is…" Wilson stopped for a moment. "Not to betray any confidences, but he likes you. He wants you to like him. And he just doesn't have a clue how to make that happen."

"You see, I just don't get that. He's had his chances before and totally blown me off. I can't wrap my head around this current business, supposedly so we can be…best mates or something. No offense."

Wilson sighed. "None taken. Think of it like a little kid on the playground. He sees some girl he likes, but he has no idea how to approach her. So he runs up and punches her in the arm, and then runs away. She's supposed to figure out what it means and be his girlfriend."

"And I'm the girl here?"

"Well, figuratively. You're the mysterious 'other' he can't figure out how to talk to."

Chase took in how weary Wilson looked. "Is there something I can do to get him to ease up on you, at least? Besides throwing up my hands and pretending everything's fine, that is. I don't mean to make this more difficult for anyone but House."

"Tell me this, Chase," Wilson asked. "Do you have any interest in mending things between you and House?"

Suddenly Chase felt weary too. He looked down at the table and grimaced. "Yeah, I guess I do. I don't want to feel…drawn…to House, but apparently I am."

"I know the feeling," Wilson smiled. "He's a jackass and a pain, and we just cain't quit him."

Chase laughed. "Coupla right chumps, aren't we."

"The way I see it, Chase? House is one of those people with a truly magnetic personality. If you're not utterly repelled by him, you're stuck with a strange, irresistible attraction to him instead."

"Good analogy. The thing is, though…" Chase frowned. "I can't go back to the way things were, and I can't ignore the way things are now with him. He may enjoy acting like that kid on the playground, but he needs to understand that his actions have consequences for other people. I would never expect him to apologize for anything, not in a conventional sense, anyway, but an acknowledgement that how the rest of us feel matters too would go a long way toward patching things up. I'll spare you the details of what's wrong, because they're personal and you shouldn't be stuck in the middle of this. I'm willing to point him in the right direction if he asks the right questions."

"Seems reasonable to me. Of course, House isn't a reasonable kind of guy, but maybe you can force him to try it. He really wants something from you; it may be the best chance any of us will have to get through to him."

Chase smiled again. "Good luck to us both, then."

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House twirled around in his desk chair for a while and finally decided this was all too tedious; he just couldn't narrow down the list of things Chase might not be happy about. He grabbed his pager and texted Chase:

Truce?

The answer cost him 45 minutes of impatience, and definitely wasn't what he was hoping for.

Nope.

At least Chase answered. That must be progress.

Why not? There.That ought to be direct enough for Wilson.

The immediate response:

Better question - why?

Alright, House thought. This is pager war, as he tapped out,

I asked first.

And I care - why? Chase replied.

Duh. Kiss and make up. Direct and to the point yet again, House nodded in self-approval for the few seconds until Chase's response arrived:

No thanks.

Damn. This is annoying.

Pissy much?

Chase's answer was almost instantaneous:

Yep.

Damn it, House thought.

Why? If he'd just answer this one question, we'd be home free.

When Chase didn't respond in five minutes, House sent another message:

Probably happen again unless I get a hint.

And Chase responded quickly with:

No it won't.

House would have stomped his foot in frustration, but the gesture would lose its effect with no witnesses. He messaged back:

Spill, damn it.

This time House didn't get an immediate response. He gave up on GameBoy after a few minutes, tried glancing through some journals, searched his desk for something to take his mind off of his pager. Someone must have coded, he thought hopefully, although he suspected that Chase was just ignoring him.

Finally, after more than an hour of aggravating silence, Chase's response came:

Two displays this year. Think about it. And lay off the bloody pager.

House leaned back in his chair and frowned. OK, maybe this is progress. I accused Chase of having his one emotional display of the year when he yelled at me last week. So when else has he yelled at me? Right before I fired him? Shit, that can't be it; that was nothing.

It took almost twenty minutes before House straightened up in his chair and thought, Fuck. He didn't yell. I could deal with yelling. Hugging? Not a clue. Getting around this is really gonna suck.

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TBC, of course

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