Title: Doppelganger

Summary: Something unknown is plaguing House and things are getting out of control, driving the pessimistic doctor to the edge of his sanity. Can he be brought back in time to save his latest patient? Can he even save himself?

Time Frame: After Vogler, before the Duckling Elimination Game. The time of year is probably completely incorrect, but I don't care. My fanfic, my mess.

Pairings: One-sided Cameron/House relationship (Cameron cares, House doesn't), Chase/Nikki (added this chapter, couldn't resist)

Author's Message: Yes, it is an obligatory 'House-gets-up-late' scene, but it does have purpose. And yes, I know that we've only seen the Cuddy who yells at House all the time, but she will be nicer later on. Promise! And I just couldn't resist giving Chase somebody. It does actually help out later on (handy, ne?).

Disclaimer: I own not, I profit not, so please sue me not. I'm fourteen; I can't afford it. However, any characters that you haven't seen before (Nikki, Alex, etc.) are my own creation and belong to me. Hands off please.

House's cell phone begins to ring, the high-pitched beeps piercing the veils of sleep that are hanging around his conscious mind and the rattling of the vibrations crashing through the promise of a headache. His eyes still closed, he fumbles around with his left hand for the device and flips it open.

"What?" he asks brusquely.

"Where the hell are you?"

Cuddy's voice is reduced to a furious hiss that jolts House into full wakefulness.

"What's wrong with you? Didn't you get any last night?" he asks, his wit not at its best when fogged with a slight yet fully apparent hangover.

"Have you any idea what time it is?"

"It can't be that late," House argues. "My alarm hasn't gone off yet."

"House, buy a new alarm clock! It's 10:32!"

Shit. House looks at his alarm clock. The dial confirms what Cuddy has already told him and he can see that the off button is pushed down. But he didn't press it. He knows he didn't. So who did?

"So I slept in late," he says. "It's not that big a deal."

"It's not that big a deal when you have a case and clinic duty to see to?" Cuddy snorts. "Get up, get here and get to work. Now."

She hangs up on him and House returns the favor. As he puts the phone down, something silvery catches the light. It's the ring, the Valentine's Day present. The one that is stuck on his finger. He sits up, wincing as his bum leg gripes over its lack of Vicodin. What to do first, he wonders. He has three choices. He can take his first Vicodin of the day, he can get dressed and hurry into work to please Cuddy, or he can try to take off that damn ring. Considering the fact that he has never hurried into work for the purposes of pleasing anybody, that leaves two choices. House reaches for the bottle of Vicodin, takes two and swallows them dry as always. His cane is leaning against the cabinet that his phone is lying on. He grabs it with his right hand, uses it to push himself to his feet and limps off to the bathroom. Soap should do the trick. However, it doesn't. Even with liberal quantities of soap, the ring refuses to budge. How could he have got it over his knuckle in the first place if it refuses to go back the other way? He pulls on it until his whole finger aches from the strain, then gives up. He washes the soap off, uses the other facilities in his bathroom and goes to get dressed. Fifteen minutes later, he is limping towards the door and feeling around in his jacket pocket for his keys. He always keeps his keys in that pocket. They aren't there.

Slightly annoyed, in spite of the fact that he doesn't actually like going to work, House stops and checks all the other pockets. Still no keys. Shit. Where the hell can they be? He looks around his living room. The half-empty bottle of amber alcohol sits on the mantelpiece, looking cold and lonely in the watery light of the spring sun. The piano sits nearby, elegant and majestic, the lid up to reveal the glistening black and white keys. House pauses to just look at the piano. Not many people know that he can play; it's one of his secrets. A few hours of mulling a case over whilst playing the piano can, for him, work wonders. What was he doing? Oh yes, he's supposed to be finding the keys. He catches sight of them on top of the television. Why on earth did he put them there? He must have been drunker than he thought last night. Though what possessed him to abandon his keys on the television is anybody's guess. He's sure that he didn't drink that much... House limps out of the door and climbs into his car. One leisurely drive to work later, he makes his way through the doors of the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital at a record late of a minute past midday. Oh boy, lunchtime.

"Tuck your chin downwards," Foreman instructs.

Nikki obeys with some reluctance, vaguely aware that pain is about to ensue and not looking forward to it. However the hand that holds hers squeezes gently and she smiles at the man to whom the hand belongs.

"This is gonna hurt a bit," Chase says.

"How much?" Nikki asks.

"I don't know. I've never had it done."

"Oh. Crap."

"Don't worry," he reassures her. "I'm here for you."

"Thanks."

Nikki looks into Chase's eyes, which are bluish green. They put her in mind of the ocean; they're so nice. And he's so pretty for a guy... She struggles not to blush and smiles shyly at him. He smiles back at her, a warm friendly smile that makes her blush after all. It's at that moment that Foreman inserts the needle between her vertebrae.

"Ow," she says. "Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. That hurts."

"It's all right," Chase says. "Squeeze my hand if you want to."

Nikki squeezes his hand tight. Chase doesn't say anything, but he does wince slightly. Foreman slides the needle out of her back, wipes the small puncture wound clean and applies a dressing.

"Now," he says, "you've got to stay flat for about an hour, okay?"

"Sure, whatever you say," Nikki replies as he leaves the room.

Realizing that she is still holding it, Nikki releases Chase's hand and he examines it. The pressure exerted by her grip has turned the flesh a tasteful pink.

"Wow. You've got a really firm grip," he laughs. "I pity the one who holds your hand during childbirth."

"Sorry," Nikki murmurs. "It just hurt, that's all."

"That's okay."

Nikki looks into Chase's eyes again as the conversation lulls. They're so beautiful, those eyes... Oddly unwilling to leave her side, Chase attempts to strike up casual conversation, which is a slightly tricky thing to do when you're kneeling on the floor of a hospital room with a potentially very sick teenager.

"So where's your dad gone then?" he asks.

"Home. He stayed here all night, so he went home to shower and get some sleep and whatever."

Her expression alters as she thinks of her father to one of melancholy contemplation. Bothered by her apparent unhappiness, Chase takes her hand again, her skin hot against his, and looks into her eyes.

"Everything is gonna be fine," he says. "I promise."

Nikki's tawny eyes are fixed on him, trusting and hopeful and... And suddenly, Chase is aware of how close his face is to hers, of how he can feel her every breath lightly caress his lips, of how it would be so easy to lean in and kiss her... but he can't, it wouldn't be allowed, it's against the rules, and yet...

"You can if you want to," Nikki breathes. "If you... want it... too..."

Nervously, hesitantly, Chase moves his lips closer and closer to Nikki's, his eyes closing instinctively and then... their lips touch. Nikki's lips are soft and supple as he gently pushes closer to her. His tongue flicks between her lips and she opens her mouth to welcome him in, sharing with him this deeply emotional experience. Roughly a minute later, Chase pulls away with a final chaste kiss on her lips, leaving the pair of them breathless and excited and nervous all at once.

"Wow," Nikki sighs.

Then she winces in pain, rubbing her arm.

"Is something wrong?" Chase asks, an unsuitable level of concern in his voice.

"Yeah. Feels like a pulled muscle or something. Really deep down."

"I'll go and get something for you. Don't go anywhere, okay?"

And he leaves the room to uncover some morphine, his heart and head involved in a serious argument of ethics, while Nikki sighs happily in spite of her new symptom.

This is actually the third draft of the Chase/Nikki scene. The first time, I had them kiss because Nikki begged. Then I thought, "Nah, Chase wouldn't do it." and changed it so that no kissing was involved . And THEN I see the second episode of series two, felt very annoyed and changed it again so that kissing was invovled once more. It was annoying, I must say. Well, enjoy.