Author's Note: Patience is not the ability to wait. Patience is to be calm no matter what happens, constantly take action to turn it to positive growth opportunities, and have faith to believe that it will all work out in the end while you are waiting. – Roy T. Bennett

Action takes place during Season 4, Episode 3: 97 Seconds

Disclaimer: I don't own House, M.D., nor its concepts, characters, and setting, but I do love them, especially Chase.

The morning had been busy, and by the time Thomas released Chase to go get something to eat, it was after two o'clock, and he was famished. Too weary and without sufficient time to change out of his scrubs, Chase went to his locker for some money, then headed over to the cafeteria.

He chose a cheeseburger and French fries, then queued up to pay for it.

House sidled up next to him with a sandwich in his hand but no tray.

"Together or separate?" the cashier asked.

"Together," House told her.

"No, separate." Chase eyed his former boss askance, notwithstanding the dimple that sank into his smooth cheek. "You fired me. Buy your own."

"Together," House repeated to the cashier, then explained to Chase, "My shout," and handed a twenty past the younger man to the cashier.

Okay, now that I was not expecting.

Chase knew House couldn't have played the pick-pocket, because Chase had only brought a ten with him into the cafeteria, and it was currently in his hand. He wondered what the older man wanted, but chose merely to look for a booth, then sit down to eat his meal. He'd hear it soon enough. He looked at his fries and wondered as always when the Americans were going to discover chicken salt. And where was House? He looked around the cafeteria. Apparently the older man had taken his change and his sandwich and was gone.

Buying me lunch and not asking anything in return? Chase was easy, he was touched. He bit into his 'free' cheeseburger happily. He hadn't liked being at odds with House.

True to Cameron's warning, Amber Volakas ran him to earth in the scrub room. He eyed the scrub room clock. Counting brush strokes was out if she was going to talk to him. He'd have to time it instead.

Chase didn't know what advice she thought he could give her. He obviously had no idea how to keep House from firing someone. And hadn't Cameron said—

Amber had a CT scan she'd taken of their current patient that she thought showed evidence of scleroderma. House disagreed. So did Chase.

"Do you think House could be wrong?"

Chase kept scrubbing. What did it matter to her now? "I thought he fired you."

"No, he fired the men."

Chase considered pointing out that she'd chosen to place herself on the men's team, but decided against it. He really didn't care about this game House was playing.

He did care about the patients, though. He looked again at the CT film she held. "I don't think he's wrong."

"If he is, how would I prove it?"

What? "Just said I don't think he is."

"Well, thinking isn't good enough."

Right. Listen to the question. Bugger what I think. She thinks he's wrong. To prove it— "You'd have to run a blood test for anti-centromere antibodies.

"Would you mind running the labs?"

Would I mind—Oho! Because— "You can't."

"Well, I can, but..."

Finished at the sink, Chase turned to face her. "No, I was making a statement. You've been fired, so you no longer have lab privileges." He had figured it out. "You weren't coming here for advice, you were coming here to con a favor to save your job. Sorry. I'm not working for him anymore, but he can still make my life miserable." He knew that was what she expected to hear, though happily House wasn't actually interested in making his life miserable, if buying him lunch was anything to judge by.

Chase could certainly sympathize with someone who'd just been sacked, but there was nothing he could do about it, and he was due in surgery, or Dr. Thomas would be the one making Chase's life miserable.

"You have a chance to make his life miserable," Amber called after him.

And of course she thinks I'd want that! Chase turned back, trying hard not to laugh. This Sheila is really a piece of work. "I'm insulted!" he declared in mock outrage. "You conned Cameron by appealing to her humanity."

"I told her what she wanted to hear."

"And you told me what you thought I wanted to hear."

"If it's any consolation, I think your motives are more interesting."

The motives she's imputing to me, she means. Christ, it's like talking to House. Chase shook his head, not negatively, but in amazement. "I cannot believe he fired you." Okay, I'm in. Maybe if she figures out the solution, she'll have better luck than I ever had with it. House had fired and unfired so many of the applicants already. Why not help her? Cuddy had helped him. "Go draw his blood. Meet you in the lab when I'm done here." Out of time, he left her and went through into the O.R.

Amber was waiting for him in the lab. "Look at this!" She held out a vial of something green.

Chase took the little glass tube and angled it towards the light. "This is your patient's blood?"

She nodded.

The patient's kidneys must have failed, since he hadn't cleared the contrast from the CT scan. Whatever. He was here to do the anti-centromere antibodies test for her, not to completely spike House's game.

Amber chattered excitedly during the test, assuming House would be interested in the color of the specimen.

No doubt he'd have a good time making jokes about it, waiting for them to figure it out.

He showed Amber the test result. "It's negative, sorry."

"Thanks," she said. She looked at her watch. Now she was the one that was late. "Gotta go." She scampered off.

A part of him wanted to follow her to Ivy Hall, to listen to the reactions to the test, to the green blood, to hear for himself whether these new people would figure out about the contrast, and how long it took. To offer theories about why the man's kidneys might have failed, where it fit in the overall pattern of his disease.

But it wasn't his place to do so. He sighed. Time to go home. He hoped Cameron was ready, 'cause he was knackered.

Chase and Cameron were halfway to the front door when the elevator stopped and disgorged a very angry House.

"I could have you fired!" House yelled.

The Australian turned to look at him, blond brow furrowed. Why was he so angry? He'd never cared if they'd done an extra test in the past. He'd encouraged it. "You've already had me fired."

"Which proves that I can!"

Actually, it proved he couldn't. "Were the men wrong?" Chase asked quietly. A soft answer turneth away wrath.

"No!. That doesn't change the fact..."

So much for the soft answer. "Why are you yelling at me?" Chase wondered coldly. He's got plenty of other people for that now.

"Because performing tests for someone who is not a doctor in this hospital..."

Like he cared about that. Chase deployed the special 'helpful' tone he reserved for upset, bossy patients. "You're frustrated. If you want help, I'm here." And exceeded it. "If you just need to vent... leave a message."

Chase resumed his stride toward the doors, thinking about the "message" House had left after he fired him. Chase, if you know what's on the PET scan, call me back. Well, Amber had wanted to know what was on the anti-centromere antibodies test.

Cameron ran to catch up with him. As they emerged outside on the pavement, she said, "Hey, Robert!"

"Yeah?"

She slipped her arm around his waist. "I love you."

He heaved a sigh. "I love you, too."