Author's Note: Everybody lies and agreeing with a proposed scenario is the easiest lie to tell, because you are merely confirming what the questioner already believes. What do you think? Did House tell Foreman the truth, or did he lie?
Action takes place during Season 4, Episode 5: Mirror, Mirror
Disclaimer: I don't own House, M.D., nor its concepts, characters, and setting, but I do love them, especially Chase.
"Not a pool," Chase explained. "A book… like when you bet on the horses, except you're betting to lose. It's perfect really. Only six candidates left. Well, seven with Foreman. Assuming House only fires one of them next like he did last time, I stand to make a bundle."
Cameron was concerned. "He's fired multiple people before, what then?"
"Well, if I do it right, he can fire three or four and I'd still be right. He gets to keep three for his team, I take it."
"And if he fires more? Cuddy said he threatened to fire all of them and get a new group of forty."
"Yeah, that would make a dog's breakfast of it. I'd lose my shirt."
"And you're okay with that?"
"No risk, no reward, love. And Cuddy also said she won't let him hire another crew this big, so it's keep three of these, or hire one person at a time like he did with us. I doubt that would suit him these days."
"Okay," Cameron said. "But if you lose your shirt…"
Not married yet, and already wants to tell me—
"Then come see me, 'cause I love it when you're shirtless."
Chase smiled and kissed her.
"They just came out of surgery. He'll be down in a few minutes." The nurse hung up the phone to find Dr. Thomas, Head of Surgery, still in scrubs and cap from the operating room, surgical mask hanging down around his neck by the strings.
The surgeon's blue-grey eyes were angry, but his voice was suave as he inquired with entirely feigned sweetness. "Who was that?"
The nurse swallowed convulsively. "The clinic wants Dr. Chase to come down there for a consult."
"Dr. Chase, is it? What a surprise," Thomas remarked sarcastically. "Popular man today Dr. Chase."
"May I –"
"Go tell him, but tell him I want to see him in my office first."
"But—"
"Trust me, whatever it is they want him for, it isn't so urgent it can't wait a few minutes."
The nurse lowered her eyes submissively. "I'll tell him."
"You do that."
Dr. Thomas had no sooner seated himself at the desk in his office than Chase was standing at his open door.
"You wanted to see me?" Thomas' newest surgical resident asked politely.
"Yes. Come in and shut the door."
Not a good sign. Chase closed the door, then came towards the desk, stopping midway between the two visitors' chairs. He did not sit.
"In all my years at this hospital, I have never, to my knowledge, been paged to the clinic for a consult. ER? Yes. ICU, certainly. Cardiology, Neurology, Oncology, yes. Clinic, no. Yet, you've been paged for consults in the clinic no less than four times today. What's going on?"
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Chase knew his new boss to be an avid gambler, who spent most of his time off in Atlantic City. He moistened nervous lips, then said firmly, "I'm accepting wagers on which applicant Dr. House will fire at the end of his current case."
Dr. Thomas leaned back against his expensive leather office chair and considered.
Chase, nerves at the stretch, forced himself to keep still while he waited for the verdict. He might be in a lot of trouble right here.
Finally, Thomas asked, "What's the action on Taub?"
Strange he would want to bet against a fellow surgeon. "Four to one."
"You don't think House will fire Taub?"
Chase considered what the best answer might be in this situation. "Taub's a good surgeon, but market forces determine the odds."
"Hmm." Or the young man was using favorable odds as a way of kissing butt. Not a bad plan. Thomas reached a hand forward to pull open the desk drawer. He extracted a stack of currency and offered it across the desk.
Chase accepted it, then produced a small yellow rectangle of paper, ticked the box next to Taub's name, and noted 4:1 RC 500 next to it and handed it over.
Thomas motioned permission to leave, but as Chase's hand touched the knob, he said, "One more thing."
The young Australian turned back courteously. "Yes?"
"You're here to get certified as a surgeon, not as a bookie. I'm giving you a pass, but know that this is for one time only. You try this again, and Dr. Cuddy's going to have to beg yet another department to take you. Understand?"
A lock of golden hair had fallen in the young man's eyes, but his soft response was clear. "Understood."
Foreman was indeed back at PPTH. Chase was cornered by his former colleague in the surgery department's locker room, where Foreman actually had no business being, but which offered them at least a modicum of privacy.
"Are you messing with me?" Foreman demanded.
"No?" Chase responded, puzzlement lending his voice the rising inflection House had so hated.
"You're only offering even money on me?"
"Do you want to bet against yourself?" For some reason, the idea surprised him. "For what it's worth, even if he fires you, I doubt Cuddy will, so you'll still have a job, just like me."
"Is that what this is about? You're jealous of me?"
"What are you talking about? What is there to be jealous of? I'm glad you're back. I never wanted you to leave in the first place, if you remember."
"So you're happy I got fired, that I had to come crawling back here with my tail between my legs?"
"No, of course not."
"But I'm your favorite to get fired?"
"Not my favorite, but the punters'. Market forces determine odds, otherwise the book isn't balanced."
"Right," Foreman fumed. "So glad to be back among friends." He stormed out.
Chase shook his head in bewilderment. He slammed his locker closed. What had that all been about?
It was nearly eleven p.m. when House called the applicants back to Ivy Hall. Chase, Cameron, and pretty much everyone else on-shift at liberty to leave their posts for a few minutes trouped in as well, to stand in the back of the room, waiting for the verdict and to collect their winnings, if any. The applicants were down front, in two rows of three. Only Foreman, seemingly above it all, stood apart.
The total amount of bets that had been placed made Chase nervous. It was a LOT of money. A LOT. As they waited, Chase found himself literally biting his nails. He'd kept the book as balanced as he could, but… it wasn't an exact science. Depending on who House fired, and how many people he fired… it could be really, really bad. And House's generally grim demeanor was giving him a bad feeling as well.
House, from the stage, began to speak. "You all suck. The two of you," he pointed to Cole and the woman generally referred to as Thirteen, "took fourteen hours to find a car. You," he continued, as his finger moved to Kutner, "forgot to mention that the guy with no memory had memories. You," he pointed to Brennan, "keep on thinking that insane guys have hidden wisdom, you're going to wind up shooting people on the subway." His finger waved in the direction of Amber and Taub. "Something."
"So, which one of us sucks the most?" Taub asked.
"It's a tie."
It's fine. It'll be fine. A tie could just be—
Amber spoke: "Between?"
"All of you," House replied.
Oh.
God.
"We're all fired?" she asked, to clarify the point.
The rows of seats in front of Chase began to heave.
"None of you are fired."
None of them?
You little beauty!
Someone standing behind Chase hit him on the shoulder in congratulations.
Relief made him wanted to laugh, to sing. He could feel himself grinning. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cameron's rather annoyed expression. Well, she'd get her hundred back out of him one way or another.
On the stage, House's face wore the serene smile of the Buddha.
Foreman was wrong. Chase had not won all the bets.
Nurse Brenda swept through the doors to the Clinic her usual fifteen full minutes prior to the start of her seven a.m. shift to find a grinning Chase seated in her chair. It was the considered opinion of the nursing staff that Dr. Chase was the nicest and cutest doctor ever to work at PPTH.
He must have had sex with one of the girls who worked in Security at some point, she thought, for he'd once again positioned himself at the exact short stretch of the counter not covered by the security cameras.
She pursed her lips to cover her answering smile. "Did I win?"
"I've never been so happy to lose a bet in my life."
She lay a little rectangle of yellow paper on the counter. Neat crosshatching covered the seven names, like a correction in a chart, replaced with the words NO DISCHARGE along the side. The space below bore the notation 20:1 RC 10.
Chase picked up the slip and handed her two hundred dollar bills in exchange. "How did you know?" he asked.
"I hate House. Always have, always will, and it's mutual. But you… he screwed up so bad firing you— given the situation, not firing anyone was the easiest way for him to really show you how much he still loves you."