Author's Note: "To speak gratitude is courteous and pleasant, to enact gratitude is generous and noble, but to live gratitude is to touch Heaven." –Johannes A. Gaertner

Disclaimer: I don't own House, M.D., nor its concepts, characters, and setting, but I do love them, especially Chase. This story is for entertainment purposes only and is not meant to take the place of the advice of either physicians or lawyers licensed to practice in your country or state.

"Dr. Chase!"

Chase stopped walking and looked around the hospital's main lobby to see who was calling him.

"Dr. Cuddy," he greeted her. "Something I can do for you?"

The rectangular face lost its look of anxiety and relaxed into a smile, grateful for the formulaic wording he'd chosen.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I'm looking for someone to cover a 36-hour shift in ICU… on Thanksgiving."

He was silent a moment, brow furrowed, expression puzzled.

He doesn't know. "It's this Thursday. House is going upstate to his Aunt Sarah's, so Diagnostics will be closed on Thursday and Friday. The shift I want you to work is the resident shift 7 a.m. Thursday to 7 p.m. Friday."

"This week, day after tomorrow?"

"Correct."

"Okay," he agreed.

Well, that was easy. "Great. Thanks, Chase. I'll let Dr. McLeod know. He'll be on-call… and Happy Thanksgiving."

"Happy Thanksgiving," he replied.

On Wednesday, House left at 3 p.m. in honor of the approaching holiday, and since he hadn't arrived until almost noon, Chase thought it might be a record for him for shortness of workday. He wished his boss a Happy Thanksgiving, but instead of going home, he went to join the ICU's evening rounds.

As they approached ninety-nine year old Mrs. Delahey's bedside, the talk of the medical personnel dropped to low murmurs. Her daughter sat quietly weeping by her bedside. Signed DNR forms sat on the bedside table. The unit was only at half census; no need for her to be moved. It wouldn't be long. Time enough to move her after the holiday, if need be.

The Intensive Care Unit told you you were in a hospital in a way the Department of Diagnostic Medicine never could. He loved the DDM, but missed ICU in a way, was glad to be asked to fill in, for however short a time, to be needed, if only so the Americans could consume their indigenous fowl in peace.

Chase arrived early for the seven a.m. shift, and dressed himself in scrubs under his white lab coat. In ICU patients and families dealt mainly with doctors they were unfamiliar with, so the traditional clothing helped establish the necessary bonds of trust.

They did morning rounds at eight. If anything, the ICU was emptier than it had been during rounds last night, but they had two ventilator patients, a gunshot victim, and a man who had just come off a heart attack, plus Mrs. Delahey, whose family were at this point basically conducting a deathwatch.

Given the holiday, and the low census in the twelve bed unit, they were operating with minimal staff. No one wanted to be in the hospital on this major American holiday, let alone in the ICU. Physical therapy had decided they needed the day off more than the patients needed the limited exercise they could perform, so the nurses were taking up the slack with additional massages.

"How do you celebrate Thanksgiving in Australia?" Regina, the senior ICU nurse asked, as Chase paused at her station to look over and sign some paperwork.

He looked up from the chart. "We don't. It's not… it's not a holiday for us," he explained.

"Oh." She seemed surprised. "Well, do you like turkey?"

"Sure."

"That's good, 'cause Friends of PPTH will be bringing us some for lunch."

"Really?" It was Chase's turn to be surprised. Normally staff were required to provide or purchase their own meals. Only coffee was provided free by the hospital.

A nurse aide named Alexis paused as she neared the nurse's station to say, "Just because we have to work the holiday, it doesn't mean we don't need to eat turkey like everyone else."

Chase watched the monitor in Mrs. Delahey's room, and made a slight adjustment to her IV. All they could do for her now was make sure she was comfortable. Her daughter sat by her side, holding one of her hands. Her other hand rose to her oxygen mask, in an attempt to move it aside.

Noticing it, Chase moved to help her. Her hand under his was dry as paper, brittle as a bird's wing. "Doctor, would you please tell my daughter it's all right for her to go home to her family?"

"Of course." He turned to the patient's daughter. "We'll take care of her. You don't need to stay."

"You're my family," she told her mother. "I want to stay. I want to be here with you if—when—"

"I'll be fine. You have people waiting on you. They want their dinner."

"They can eat it without me."

"No need for them to," the old lady said. "I have this beautiful young man to look after me. What could be better than that?" She looked at Chase roguishly, then moved her hand to indicate she wanted the oxygen mask put back in place. He obliged.

The daughter sighed, but gathered her things. "I'll be back after dinner. I love you."

Chase again helped her mother remove the mask for a moment so she could reply. "I love you, too. I'll always love you." Eyes the color of Forget-Me-Nots moved from her daughter to Chase. "Help her to understand," she told him.

Chase glanced from mother to daughter and back. "She knows you love her."

The old woman just smiled at him, and pressed his hand so he would put the mask back over her mouth and nose again.

The food was brought in a little after noon, plate style, each serving in a separate Styrofoam container.

Regina brought one of the containers to him at the residents' desk, where he was reviewing the attending physician's orders regarding the gunshot victim.

Regina opened the container. "Roast turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, cranberry sauce. You're eating like a real American today."

"Thank you," he said. She handed him a napkin and a set of plastic utensils. He set the paperwork aside in favor of eating, mostly because she seemed to expect it. It seemed odd somehow, to be eating what was more or less a full on Christmas dinner in this workaday setting, nor did he really understand everyone's fixation on eating turkey specifically on this day. It tasted good, though, and there was a lot of it. It was nice, really. Thoughtful of them to bring it.

Regina came back after a while. "Good?"

"Yeah," he agreed. To his embarrassment, he yawned. Ridiculous. The shift had thirty more hours to go. He shouldn't be tired yet. DDM must be making him soft.

"It's the tryptophan," she told him, reassuringly. "A nap after dinner is in the best American tradition. Go on, I'll wake you if things start happening."

First House, now her. But the food had made him sleepy, and she was right: it was quiet, and he should take advantage of it. No knowing when the next good chance for a nap might come. He went to lie down in one of the on-call rooms.

It was after three when Mrs. Delahey coded. Regina came and woke him, but since she was DNR, there was nothing for them to do. When all activity had ceased, Chase said, "Time of death, three twenty-three."

"The daughter's going to be upset," Regina warned him. "She wanted be here."

Chase nodded. "Let me know when she gets here."

"I let her down, I was selfish." She wiped at her tears with a tissue. "I should have been here."

"Sometimes," Chase said carefully, feeling his way, "people don't want their family to… watch them. Sometimes, they want to… go alone."

"That's why she told me to go home."

"I think so," he agreed.

Smiled at him a little through her tears. "And I'm guessing that's what she wanted you to help me understand."

Dr. Gregory House had once received a paycheck from Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital that had been incorrect. He had never recovered the trust. Accordingly, when he removed his department's two paychecks from the inter-departmental dispatch envelope, he checked them. His own check was fine. Dr. Chase's… was not.

He picked up the phone and called, not payroll, since the payroll girls all hated him, but Cuddy.

"Dr. Cuddy," he said into the handset. "Those idiots down in payroll have paid Chase 36 hours holiday pay at time and a half. According to my calculations, the holiday was two eight-hour shifts, which he did not work."

He listened incredulously to her explanation, then hung up the phone.

He needed to have a serious talk with his fellow.

"It's payday," House said, from the door of the inner office as Chase was getting ready to leave. "Don't you want your check?"

"Yeah, sure." Chase agreed indifferently. He finished rinsing the coffeepot, set it back in the machine, walked into the inner office, accepted the envelope House handed over, and slid it unopened into the inner pocket of his sport coat.

"Don't you want to make sure it's correct?" House asked.

Chase gave him a funny look. "I'm sure it's fine."

"Payroll at this hospital is stupid. They've screwed up more than once." House told him.

"Okay." It was plain that Chase didn't care how much his paycheck was, but pulled it out and took a look at it anyway, just to humor his boss. "It's fine," he reported.

"It says you worked on Thanksgiving."

"Yeah, I did a shift in the ICU."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Cuddy asked me to."

"And what did she do for you?"

He looked confused. "She… paid me 36 hours holiday pay."

House was frustrated. "What do you care about that, you're rich!"

"My dad is," Chase corrected. "Not me."

"Same difference," House said. "I want to know what you asked her to do for you in exchange for working on Thanksgiving."

"Nothing."

"You shouldn't do favors for people without asking something in return!"

"Why not?"

"People will take advantage!"

Chase considered. "When my father called and asked you to take me on as a fellow, what favor did you ask of him in return?"

House expelled air heavily through his nose, in a sound that was not quite a snort. "You're an idiot," he replied.