Author's Note: Resilience also means understanding that life is full of challenges. While we cannot avoid many of these problems, we can remain open, flexible, and willing to adapt to change.—Kendra Cherry
Our story begins midway through Season 3, Episode 24 Human Error.
Disclaimer: I don't own House, M.D., nor its concepts, characters, and setting, but I do love them, especially Chase.
The blue-tinted ambient light that filtered from the lightboxes around all four walls made the Radiology Viewing Room seem as if it were under water. Well, that had been helpful. Not.
Chase remained motionless after Cameron and Foremen followed House out the door. It wasn't bone cancer. It had to be an infection.
House was interested only in agreeing with Foreman, in a probably vain effort to entice his least senior fellow to stay.
Foreman was not Chase's problem to solve. He had only spoken up because he thought House would be upset after the younger man left, but ultimately, he had to admit, it was Foreman's decision what he would do, and House's decision how to react to it. And he and Cameron would just have to deal with the fallout as best they could.
He'd spoken only out of concern, hadn't really intended disrespect… but he could admit he'd been out of line… maybe an apology was owed. He'd go talk to him.
Chase never even saw the wave coming before it had crashed into him and knocked him off his board.
The sun had set and the office was rather dark, but Chase was glad to see that House was at his desk, a book open before him. Chase might have been insubordinate before witnesses; he preferred his apology to be private. He swung the glass door open and wandered in casually.
"I don't really care if Foreman stays or goes, but—"
"You're fired."
The psychological impact was so stunning, so profound, it totally distorted his thought process. House didn't look angry. He hadn't looked angry in Radiology either. Just… what? Nothing. Just flat. Indifferent. Final. He even turned a page on the desk in front of him as he pronounced the words, symbolically turning the page on their association. Over.
Keeping his head above water was out of the question. The best he could hope for now was not to be hit in the head by his own board. "Wha—b-" he could barely manage to speak. "What because I—I yelled at you?"
"Because you've been here the longest, learned all you can, or you haven't learned anything at all. Either way. It's time for a change."
If it was not as physically painful as a garden rake across the arse, it was equally unanswerable. Chase didn't know where to look, or what to say. What could he say? He met House's eyes, but the older man just looked back at him blandly, waiting for him to accept it, as he must.
"Fine," Chase said.
House nodded.
Inevitably, when in the act of wiping out, you know you are GOING to go under, but it's important not to panic. Just cover your head, bend your knees and jump off bum first, as if you were jumping into shallow water. The bottom may not be that far down. If you don't hit it, time enough then to follow the leash up to your surfboard, climb on and paddle for shore.
Chase remained standing in the office for a while, but no more words would come. Four years they'd worked together, and at the end there was nothing to be said between them. Not even goodbye.
The Australian hadn't asked, yet knew somehow that the termination was effective immediately. He cleared out his locker, shoving most of his possessions into his messenger bag, and just carrying his brolly in his right hand. He double checked to make sure he hadn't left anything, then went to find Cameron and Foreman, to let them know what had happened. He was almost sorry he bothered. Cameron was puzzled; Foreman didn't care. Chase pointed out the hotspot on the scan and made good his escape.
Reaching the lobby, he turned towards Cuddy's office and stopped at her assistant's desk.
"I'll like to see Dr. Cuddy please."
The assistant looked dubious. "She's not in the greatest mood."
"It's important," he said.
The assistant picked up the phone, and after a few seconds said into it, "Dr. Cuddy, Dr. Chase would like to see you, if you have a few moments." She nodded, hung up the phone and told Chase, "You can go in."
"Thank you."
He opened the glass-paned doors and walked up to her desk, much as he had upon his arrival at PPTH four years before.
Cuddy, busy with paperwork, did not so much as look up. "Whadda you want, Chase? I'm busy."
He stepped up even closer, and reached out with his left hand to lay a key on her desk.
She glanced over at it. "Something wrong with your locker again? We can ask Maintenance to-"
"House fired me."
It was like watching a volcano erupt. Her rectangular face came up to stare at him, then turned bright red with fury. "He WHAT?!"
"He-"
"WAIT HERE!" She whooshed past him and was gone.
Chase sat down on her visitors' couch, his messenger bag pressed between his bum and the cushioned back of the couch, the bag's strap tight across his chest like a seatbelt. He leaned the umbrella against his leg so he wouldn't have to keep holding onto it.
Wilson walked in. "What's going on?"
Chase felt like a broken record. "House fired me."
"What?!" Wilson exclaimed in disbelief.
"He-" Chase stopped speaking, for Wilson too was gone.
His cell phone buzzed. He pulled it out and looked at it. House was calling him? Now? He flipped the phone open. "Hello?"
House's voice, large as life, emanated from the little device. "Chase? If you know what's on the PET scan, call me back."
Click.
Chase stared down at the phone stupidly. He had to know that was me on the phone—Foreman and Cameron didn't tell him about the PET scan? What's going on?
Anxiously, he stabbed the redial.
"House."
"It's Chase."
A slightly tinny version of House's voice said jovially, "Dr. Chase. How are ya?"
"The scan was showing a hot spot on her humerous when I left. Maybe a blood clot."
"Thank you," House replied. "You are indispensable."
Quite a surprise, considering the circumstances. "Am I?"
"Uh, you're still fired. Sorry." The line went dead.
Chase shook his head.
Indispensable.
But still fired.
He smiled with no humour at all. I have heard him use that word before. I do not think it means what he thinks it means.
Chase was still sitting on the couch, cellphone in hand when Cuddy returned.
She stopped in front of him, dark eyes looking down at him in concern. "Are you okay?"
He nodded. "If I can-" Oh, God, here comes the pain now. "If I can find another job to sponsor my visa within the sixty days, will you help transfer everything over?"
She sank gracefully down onto the seat next to him and took his hands as she would have a frightened pediatric patient's.
"You're off House's team, but you don't have to find another job."
His light green eyes moved from their contemplation of his now-quiet cellphone, the last place from which he'd heard House's voice, clasped in his hand, clasped in hers, up to her no longer angry rectangular face. Her eyes weren't dark. They were a brownish hazel. "I'm a lot of trouble for you," he said. He felt cold, as well as sorry. A sorry return for all the work she'd done to bring him over from Australia, to make sure he did well here. To protect him, when he made mistakes.
She disagreed. "You're a good doctor; this hospital needs you." She released his hands and rose to return to her desk. "We'll find a place for you somewhere, ICU, NICU, I know the ER needs another doctor- I'd keep you full-time in the clinic, if I had to."
He was starting to warm up again. He still had a job; his H1B visa still had a sponsoring employer.
Cuddy was still thinking over their options. "I wonder if Dave Thomas would take you as a resident?"
Chase brightened perceptibly. "Surgery? That would be wonderful." He'd left a surgical residency at home to come to work for House. If he could get Board certified here in the States-
"Don't get ahead of yourself, I haven't even broached the idea to him yet, and you know what he's like."
Chase nodded his understanding. The Head of Surgery wasn't crazy like House was, but he was a man who liked to have his own way. He might or might not be willing to let Chase onto his staff.
"Give me a little time to figure out where we can put you," Cuddy said.
"Okay," Chase agreed. "Would this be—" He looked at her speculatively, hoping not to offend her with his question, when he was so grateful for her help.
"Would this be what?" she prompted.
"Would this be a good time for me to take some vacation?"
"This would be an excellent time for you to take some vacation."