...and the story concludes...

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Matchmaker (Pt III)

An hour later House strolled into Wilson's office.

"Lunch, Jimmy. Come on. You're buying." He paused. The roses were sitting on a table in Wilson's office. "What are they doing here?"

"Chase muttered something about not wanting to start your hay fever off. He'll pick them up tonight on his way out. More glowing patient reviews for the handsome young Dr. Chase apparently."

House snorted. "I wish; anniversary present from Foreman. He's better at this than you ever were with any of your wives."

"You're not serious?" When House nodded, Wilson continued. "What anniversary?"

"Don't know, don't care. More importantly, Cuddy dumped a new patient on me; I dumped it on the kids. I am now in need of sustenance." They headed towards the elevator.

"Patients aren't "its", House. What's the differential?"

"Big donor has some kind of autoimmune problem. Cuddy makes nice, Foreman's happy schmoozing, Cameron's happy running tests."

"And Chase?"

"Not so happy, covering my clinic hours."

"Of course, why did I bother ask?"

"Cameron come see you yet?"

"Yeh, was with a patient, though. Didn't talk."

"She'll be back - she's upset."

"About Foreman and Chase?" Wilson looked skeptical.

"That too, but more importantly, me actually. Priorities, Jimmy!"

"Since when have you cared about that?"

"Since I discovered she takes it out on everyone else around her, including the patient. She's worse than Stacy like that. I rely on the kids to do things I won't, like keep Cuddy happy, make nice to Brenda and so on. Not helpful if she starts acting like me." He took a bite of his Reuben. "Plus I told her to grow up."

"Surprising advice, I think, coming from you. You're not exactly the best role model." He paused, considering his friend. "What's really bothering you, House, this isn't about Cameron being pissy. Out with it."

House's smile was a little twisted, and he stopped for a moment to dry-swallow a vicodin.

"Foreman has a huge chip on his shoulder about status, money, white boys who have everything handed to them on a plate and hasn't a prayer in hell's chance of ever proving he's as good as me, let alone nicer, given that he's not particularly nice or good." He ticked the items off rapidly.

"Yes", Wilson uttered dubiously, uncertain where this was going.

"Chase's Dad screwed him over royally, he's conceivably more emotionally damaged than you and Cameron combined and that's not even adding in the contributions his mother and the Church made to messing him up."

"What's the point of all this, House, we know." Wilson thought it politic to ignore the comment about himself.

"So how the hell did they end up together?"

"Ah, the sweet mystery of love…. How should I know? More importantly, why do you care? Hold on a minute…there's more, isn't there?"

"Yeh." House paused and Wilson could tell he was reluctant, maybe even embarrassed, to admit something.

"What?"

"Umm, I was nice."

That sent Wilson into a peal of laughter that he rapidly choked off.

"When was this? Are you sure you're actually Greg House? Why were you nice and to who?"

"To whom, Jimmy, really. I told Cameron to leave them alone. I didn't make one crack about Chase and his puppy dog eyes or that the color of the flowers matched his hair." He regretfully contemplated the lost opportunity. "I even said Foreman was being sweet. I also didn't use my hay fever as an excuse to toss the flowers so I could make Chase cry."

"Why, House, I do believe you're a romantic at heart." He swallowed the last mouthful of his salad before continuing. "Kids are growing up, aren't they?" he said, more kindly.

"Yeah, how did that happen?"

House's pager went off then, he glanced at it briefly before heading out the door, Wilson following him.

"It's your own fault, you know", Wilson commented, as they walked.

"How'd you figure that…?" House became aware of the tune Wilson had started to hum. "Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match…"

"Oww, what was that for?" House had jabbed Wilson in the foot with his cane.

"I'm not Jewish. And you can't carry a tune."

"Well, if not you," ("It's not," House interjected), "then you know what they say, God's the best matchmaker – why don't you tell Chase to mark another one up in the win column? He'll love that."

And Wilson pushed a reluctantly smiling House (who knew that he'd been out-maneuvered by one of the few people capable of ever doing so) through the door to the Pathology lab, then went on his own way, smug that he'd gotten the last word with House.