A/N: I'm kinda annoyed at myself, as I promised myself I'd have a chapter up before…a week ago. However, I have learnt a treatment for writer's block…who wants to know!

Disclaimer of medical knowledge: Any doctor would figure out what the patient has in a second, but hey, I did my best. Some of these medical bits are going to be so, so wrong, so I hope none of you are doctors.

Chapter 3: evening

"What is that?"

"It's supposed to be a salad," Chase replied, not looking up from his half-finished crossword as he swallowed a tasteless tomato.

"Lunch?" House asked. "It's almost 4."

"I had clinic duty."

"I've been looking for you," said House, sitting gingerly opposite Chase, ignoring his statement.

"Why?" Chase wasn't curious, but the question had to be asked.

"You saw Cuddy," he announced.

Chase visibly stiffened. He looked up to meet House's boring eyes. His voice was calm.

"Yeah." His accent was obvious every time he said this word, which was becoming increasingly often. House looked mildly disappointed.

"What, no argument?"

"You weren't wanting an agreement to you accusations?"

Chase propped his feet up on a chair to his side. House inclined his head slightly, showing indifference.

"Devil's Advocate?" Chase asked, raising a sceptic eyebrow.

"No, I just like to argue," House said comfortably.

Chase got up, and disposed his almost full salad container in a nearby bin.

"Do you need me?"

"Are you going to point out my flaws?"

Chase made a face.

"No. I value my job a little-"

"Well, then no. I don't need you." Chase's eyes lingered on House's smirk a moment later, before he turned.

"You Brits are stubborn," House commented.

"I'm not-" but House cut him off with a silencing finger.

"No disagreeing."

"We have a case," House announced, limping into the office, where his ducklings were all sitting comfortably.

"A husband brings in his wife to get her checked out for depression and fatigue," he told them. "She then feels an ache in her right arm, and then can't grip her hand bag properly."

Chase noticed Cameron looking at House with intense concentration. Her eyebrows furrowed, Chase thought she looked almost worried.

"Chase?"

Chase was brought back to earth rather sharply, as House turned to him.

"Uh…vasculitis?" he tried.

"You can do an MRI if it makes you feel better," House said unkindly. Chase shifted uncomfortably. It was usually a good guess.

"Could be hyperthyroidism," Foreman suggested, "fits the symptoms."

"Get a blood test, check the TSH(1) level."

"Myasthenia Gravis," Chase said, trying to redeem himself slightly.

"Doesn't fit all the symptoms," Cameron said solemnly. "What about the depression?"

"She could have it, and be depressed," Chase argued. "If we take out the depression-"

"Why not take out the muscle factor as well," House snapped, "and we can cut it down to the common cold."

Cameron appeared to have taken him a bit more seriously, as she said, "Myasthenia Gravis doesn't explain muscle pain or weakness."

"Diabetes might cause-"

"What are you doing, going through every disease known to man?"

Chase glared at him.

"Chronic Fatigue Syndrome," Foreman put forward.

"Another possibility," House said, giving a grim smile that Chase could tell wasn't sincere. "Which one do we choose?"

"The right one," said Cameron.

"What's up?" Cameron asked Chase, as he walked into the lab, his stride indicating that this wasn't a social call.

"TSH levels normal," he told her. "He doesn't have hyperthyroidism."

Cameron made a noncommittal noise.

"What was that?"

Cameron shrugged.

"I'm going home." She yawned and pulled off her lab coat.

"It's not even 5 yet," Chase said disbelievingly.

"I'm tired."

"Have you got any more possible causes?" Chase asked her.

"For what?"

"The patient," Chase said.

"No. Well, nothing better than vasculitis." Cameron shook her head. "How did you come up with that?"

Chase grinned.

"House suggests it almost once a week," he said. "And I wasn't paying attention. It was a fair guess."

Cameron laughed, but she sounded awkward. To Chase, though, it seemed that she was avoiding his eyes, but he shook off the uncomfortable feeling.

Cameron grabbed her bag, and swung it over her shoulder.

"See you, Chase," she said and, without looking at him, left the room. Chase watched her retreating back, noticing that she had her head bent low, following her feet, step by step. If Chase didn't know any better, he would've said she looked sad.

(1)I hate it when writers put in stuff like this, and I have no idea what it stands for. TSH: Thyroid Stimulating Hormone

A/N: I saw The Honeymoon last...whenever it was. Wednesday. House/Cam, I reckon, is now dead. I used to go for that...can't believe I did, it'd never work out.