Lisa Cuddy looked up from her paperwork as a shadow fell across her doorway. It took a moment to register, and when she realized who it was, she forced a smile. "Hello, Julie."

"Dr Cuddy," Julie stepped into the office, head held high as if she meant to impress her husband's boss. "I need to talk to you about Dr House."

Cuddy lay her pen down and closed the file she was working on, leaving the pen trapped inside. "How can I help you?"

"He won't let me in to see James."

"Are you really surprised?" Cuddy stood. Toe to toe, Julie Wilson was a good three inches taller than her. But at least she didn't feel the woman was literally looking down her nose at her.

"James and I have our problems," Julie sighed. "Every relationship does. That doesn't mean-"

"You left him, Julie."

Julie's nostril's flared, reminding Cuddy of an irritated horse. She almost expected her to stomp her feet to complete the image. "He's my husband."

"That note says otherwise."

"It's just a note."

"Is it? I'm willing to bet you've been with your lawyer the better part of the afternoon. Have you signed the papers, Julie?"

"You're not going to let me see him, are you?"

"I'm afraid not. You're welcome to try to get a court order, though no judge will approve it if those papers have been signed."

Julie smoothed the front of her jacket. "I will be back, Dr Cuddy."

"Two days ago, you wrote him off. You're a smart woman, Julie. Why don't you cut your losses and go away? That's what you wanted a few days ago." Cuddy held the door open for Julie's exit.

After Julie had gone, Cuddy couldn't focus on her paperwork. She ended up walking down to House's office. Cameron and Chase were there, Foreman was doing clinic duty in House's place.

"Let me get the door for you, Dr Chase," a nurse rushed ahead of him to slide the door open. Chase thanked her with a nod, and took a deep breath to steel himself for the sneer he knew was coming.

House was in the chair from his office, u Great Expectations /u open in his lap. His eyes fluttered at Chase's arrival, and he muttered something Chase didn't quite catch. Chase set the pizza down on the bedside table, and ran a quick visual check over Wilson and the vitals displayed on his monitors before turning his attention to his boss.

The fact House didn't wake when he came in was more than a little disturbing. "Dr House?"

House jumped, wincing from the sudden movement. He blinked rapidly for a long, tense moment. Chase almost expected the man to fly at him, hands aiming for his neck. "Cuddy send in reinforcements?"

"I brought pizza and beer," Chase announced, gesturing to the box and bag on the table. "Figured you were sick of the hospital food."

House grunted. "Thoughtful."

Chase couldn't help but notice he hadn't moved to sit up. That was definitely not a good sign. "It's supreme. Everything but the kitchen sink." Chase turned his back to House, to give him some dignity, and busied himself pulling pizza out of the box. He set a piece on two plates then popped open two beers.

House hissed, and it took all Chase's strength not to turn to him. He wasn't prepared, really, to see his boss in such obvious pain. He'd seen him wince or grimace when he moved too fast or shifted the wrong way on his leg, but the man as a rule didn't wear his pain outright. He kept it hidden, muted by a cunning sense of humor, a biting sarcasm, and too much Vicodin.

He pulled two cans free of the plastic carrier and popped them open before sitting in a nearby chair. "Does Cuddy know you brought beer up here?" House was sitting up, eyeing Chase suspiciously. Chase couldn't help but notice he looked incredibly pale in the florescent light.

"No. I'm hoping it can be our little secret." Chase grinned and handed House a can and a plate. He tucked the can between his legs before reaching for the plate, taking both with his left hand. His right hand was flat against his thigh.

"What are you up to, Dr Chase?" House questioned before Chase could process what his hand on his thigh like that must mean.

Chase took a bite of pizza, giving himself time to consider his answer. Greg House never missed a trick, even when he was clearly half out of his had with pain. Chase had to be careful, he didn't want to alert House at all.

No way he'd outright agree to letting Chase, or anyone, look at his hip. X-rays were out of the question because that would mean leaving Wilson's room, and as Cuddy described it, House was a mama grizzly vehemently protecting her injured cub.

"I'm not up to anything, Dr House," Chase said coolly, carefully. He didn't want to give House any reason to question him. "Everyone knows you're worried about Dr Wilson. We all are. But you were with him and he's your friend and that's pretty tough. So I thought I'd try to help you out a little, save you from another dose of mystery meat from the cafeteria. Dr Cuddy signed off on the pizza."

"And the beer?" House asked and took a sip.

Chase furrowed his brow for a moment, a fraction of a second before he recovered, thinking House had already asked him about the beer. "It's contraband."

"I've taught you well."

Chase laughed. "You have." So far, so good. Maybe getting House to relax wouldn't take as long as Chase had thought.

House took a small bite of the pizza. Chase noticed his eyes scan the room, as if looking for something. He carefully followed the line of House's vision to see the trash can sitting nearby.

They ate in silence with Chase trying not to be too obvious about watching House. Studying him, was more like it. Chase quickly concluded Wilson regaining consciousness was probably the only thing that would get House out of his char anytime soon.

When House lurched forward, Chase scrambled for the trash can. His beer and plate hit the floor, House's followed with a crash and a swoosh of spilled drink. Chase wasn't fast enough and House puked on him, and everything else. All over his chair, all over himself, all over Chase.

"Shit."

Chase put the trash can in his lap even though it was too late, and got a wet wash cloth from the bathroom. "Thanks," House took the towel and ran it over his face. He puked again, thought it was mostly bile, at least it was deposited in the can.

Chase picked up the pizza from the floor, threw it in the bathroom trash. He tossed a towel on the floor to clean up the beer. "How long has this been going on?"

"All day. I can't…keep anything down."

Chase tossed the soiled towel into a corner in the bathroom. "How much Vicodin are you taking?"

"Two, every couple hours. It's not…not helping."

"When are you going to give up the fight and let someone look at your leg?"

"It's not my leg," House's eyes shifted to Wilson. "I'm not leaving him."

"You need a bath. You stink and you've got vomit in your hair."

"You don't exactly smell like a rose garden either."

Chase almost smiled. At least his sense of humor was intact. "No thanks to you. Should I call a nurse?"

House shook his head, a look of complete dread on his face. "No. Just…just you, Chase."

Chase nodded. He knelt in front of House, untied both shoes and slipped them off his feet, careful not to shift his leg too much. He repeated the process with both socks.

"This really sucks, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Chase hadn't been too happy about being sent to House with the pizza, he'd expected to get reamed up one side and down the other and quite possibly thrown out on his ear. Now he was glad it was him, not Cameron, who had to see their boss this way.

"Stand up?" Chase stood and held out his hand as an offer to help.

House just looked at it, and then, after a moment, his blue eyes flickered up to Chase's face. "I don't think I can, Chase."

"I'm gonna turn the shower on and I'll be right back to help you. You've got clothes, don't you?" He checked the cabinet, grabbed two sets of clean clothes and took them to the bathroom with him.

"Lean on me. Come on. I'm already wearing your guts." Chase stooped down, eased himself under House's right arm. He let House set the pace, giving the man time to get his balance, his strength. "Come on. I've got you."

House uttered a string of curses before he was on his feet. Chase was surprised he didn't even try to right himself, but leaned into Chase's shoulder and allowed Chase to lead him into the bathroom.

"Can you stand on your own?"

"I don't know."

"Hold on to the bar. We've got to get you out of these clothes."

House nodded and offered no resistance. Chase tugged his shirt over his head first, and House had to hold on to his shoulder. The pants were next. House held his breath as Chase started to tug the sweats and House's boxers over his hips.

Chase bit back a gasp at the sight of bruise on House's hip. "Have you gotten a look at this monster?"

"No. It's…I know it's bad."

"Yeah." Chase rocked back on his heels. "Do you want to sit down, or lift your legs?"

"If I sit I'm not getting back up."

Chase nodded. He lifted House's right leg and eased the pants off his foot. He got up on his knees, allowing House to lean on him so he could pull his left leg up. Chase stripped down to his boxers, figuring he wouldn't make an uncomfortable situation even more uncomfortable, and helped House into the shower.