Warning: Strong language, and altogether a non-nice scene. This chapter is really 'M' rating. Lyrics are from Oasis's 'Hello'.


"Hey, I've got the results of the scans." Announced Foreman, startling House, who was deep in thought about his favourite wombat's personal life, and Chase, who had come in not long after Cameron had left. He looked tired, but shot to attention at the sound of Foreman's voice.

"Does it show anything?" asked Chase, immediately.

"Yeah, it does." Foreman walked to the light box on the wall and pushed the film into the clips. He stepped backwards as Chase and House came up close to examine the scan. Just to the left, deep within the brain, a dark shadow could be seen. A lump, part of which had broken off.

House pointed at it and said "Ah, from where she fell, probably."

"Hey man, are you ok?" Foreman was looking at Chase, who had gone a funny shade of green.

"Shit." The Australian whispered, before bolting out of the room and into the nearest toilet, before throwing up what felt like everything he'd eaten for the last 3 weeks.

House grabbed hold of Foreman and manhandled him out of the office, following the horrible retching sounds.

"What's going on?" asked Cameron, who ran into them in the hallway.

"Come with us." House said, before following Chase into the bathroom.

Foreman and Cameron looked uncomfortable as Chase continued to vomit. House, however, seemed unfazed, and moved to stand directly in front of the door of the stall. When the heaving stopped, Chase spat a few times, before gingerly standing and opening the door.

"Oh God, what do you want!" he pleaded to House, as they came face to face.

"Who's the broad, then?" He asked nonchalantly.

"No-one." Came the terse reply, as Chase brushed past House and headed for the sink, reaching for the soap dispenser.

"Now, now, Chase. Be a good puppy and tell Uncle Greg why she's making you puke your guts up. Otherwise I'll have to talk to… umm… what's the husband's name? Sam? Maybe I'll give him a call…" House looked steadily at Chase, who was glaring daggers back. The silent glare-war lasted a few moments more, until Chase sighed, turned back to the sink and picked up a towel. Whilst drying his hands, he started to speak, slowly and quietly.

"I met Pippa at school. We lived a few streets away from each other. She was my best friend. We grew up, fell in love, went to college together… It was perfect. We were going to marry each other – I proposed on my yacht in Sydney Harbour. We planned everything, the colour of the bridesmaids, the flowers… my best mate, Sam, was going to be my best man."

House noticed the name, but wisely chose to stay silent, filing away this tidbit for a later date.

"At that time, I worked in a stuffy office in the city. One day, I decided I'd go home early and cook dinner for her. I bunked off the afternoon and went to the shops. I got home, opened the door and put the champagne in the fridge… then I heard them.

"Sam, my best mate was fucking my fiancée. In my bed. And you know what the best part was? The bastard was supposed to be gay!

"I just left. Joined a seminary. I wanted to get as far away from sex, from Sydney, from her as possible. I haven't seen either of them since Pippa came in the other day. So excuse me if I didn't fancy a nice little chat!"

Chase looked so hurt and resentful that no-one said anything.

"Happy now you know?" Chase sniped at House, who just shrugged and said:

"Shit happens." Cameron gasped, and turned on her heel, stalking out of the room in disgust. Foreman glared at House, then followed Cameron. An uncomfortable silence filled the room. "Well." Said House. "I need to get a consult." He turned to back to look at Chase. "Take the rest of the day off." His eyes bore into Chase's, who saw – just for a split second – an apology.

"Thanks." Chase replied, with a wan smile. For a brief moment, it looked like House was going to say something else, but he simply left, heading down to see his best friend. Chase sighed, before heading to his locker, grabbing his keys and jacket, before heading towards his car. He unlocked the Mercedes and slid into the driver's seat, relishing the feel of the soft leather under him. He sat for a full minute, staring into space, his mind occupied with thoughts of the day, before pulling out of this parking space and turning towards home.


The traffic was light, and it was an easy ride home. He parked his car in the garage reserved for those living in the apartments, meticulously locking both before heading up the stairs to his flat on the top floor. The key turned easily in the lock, and he stepped through the black wooden door to reveal a tastefully decorated living room.

A large flatscreen tv, black leather suite, and enormous sound system dominated the room. Chase had enough money to have what he really wanted in his flat – and as this was his safe haven, away from the prying eyes of a certain diagnostician, it was decorated exactly how Chase wanted it. He dropped his keys on the table, before walking over to the stereo and selecting a CD. As Oasis poured out of the speakers, he went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Making a face at the meagre offerings, he picked out a bottle of Fosters, and turned towards the freezer. Spying some fish that he had frozen a couple of weeks ago, he pulled it out and left it to defrost on the side.

He wandered back into the living room, before settling himself on the sofa, his mind awhirl. Ah, British rock, guaranteed to make you forget.

We live in the shadows and we had the chance and threw it away,

And it's never gonna be the same,

It wasn't that he wanted Pippa got die – God, anything but – more that he didn't want her here.

'Cos the years are following by like the rain,
And it's never gonna be the same

His mulling on how his private life was rapidly becoming very, very public was cut short by the shrill ringing of his cell phone. With a sigh, he looked at it.

INCOMING CALL: ALLISON CAMERON

He toyed with the idea of letting it ring out, before, with a sigh, picking up.

"What's up, Cameron?" He drawled.

"We've found something. Or I should say, not found something."

"Huh?" asked Chase, bewildered.

"Chase, Wilson had a biopsy done. The tumour isn't cancerous. It was pushing up against her temperal lobe and causing her headaches." Chase sighed in relief.

"Can they remove it?"

"Yes… but Chase, there's something else."

"What?" His voice clouded with worry again.

"She has AIDS. It came up in one of the tests – she didn't tell us earlier."

"That bastard. That bloody bastard gave her HIV. I'm coming in." He sounded livid.

"Um... Ok." Said Cameron, staring at the phone which had just gone dead in her hand. Foreman walked in and headed, as usual, immediately to the coffee machine.

"Coffee?" He asked. She shook her head. "I've just been talking to Pippa. She and Chase really do go way back. She's with this Sam guy now. He's coming to visit her today – apparently didn't know she was here."

"Oh crap." Said Cameron, realising that Chase was about to get another horrid shock today.