A/N: Sorry for the long, long update! Here we all are again. For those who care about what I think, my camp was good. I didn't get sunburnt, bitten to death by mozzies, or anything nasty like that. Please excuse if this is corny, I watched Saved! (A good movie, especially if you're like House). Still, it was pretty tempting to do it, especially when I got the idea in my insomniac moments.

Chapter 13: Lethargy

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't fire you now!" the livid boss screamed at his self-assured employee.

"I brought you a biscuit." The employee replied smugly.

Chase laughed mirthfully at the TV show. One of his old mates from uni had sent him a DVD box set of a show that had been airing in Australia, and it had been a local hit. He'd sent it over for a laugh, something of which Chase needed several of lately. Most women at the clinic said they'd been feeling excellent, but he'd been begging to differ. With running around to save patients from keeling over, he'd been feeling pretty tempted to join them. Only just this week had House decided to leave his work at research and bouncing around ideas in the office.

Now, lying on his couch in the flat that had once been shared, Chase felt no better than a piece of road kill. Sleep seemed like the best thing to look forward to when he came home from work. However, who the hell was banging on the door?

"Fine, I'm coming!" Chase grumbled, sliding into a sitting position before getting up slowly to answer the door. Hoping that his pants weren't too creased or that his skin didn't look too bright, he walked-maybe waddled, huh, he was living up to his name as a duckling- over to the door.

What was standing in front of that was making him made him reconsider the functioning of his brainwaves? There was Cameron; only her hair was wrapped up in a bun, clad in a leotard, a long tutu, thick stockings and leg warmers with a pair of pink and battered ballet slippers.

To her left was Foreman. He looked like he'd just stepped out of a Fred Astaire movie, only in full colour and minus the tap shoes. Besides that, he didn't look too bad.

Racknell was probably the most sensible of them in the hall, if it was the street heading down to the White House in 1977. The stereotypical meaning of "punk" was fully expressed in her attire. Was that a real tongue piercing floating in her mouth?

"Alright, what drugs have you lot not fully disposed of?"

Foreman laughed hysterically. "You can't be serious? You've lived in the states for two and a half years and still no one's told you what Halloween is?"

"Um, yeah. I just haven't really had a ballerina, a man of wealth and taste and AC/DC and the Rolling Stones' love child come to my door before."

"It's nice to hear that I'm the love child of a drunk and resident physcos." Racknell said sarcastically, fiddling with her safety pin earring.

Cameron started to explain, "Well, the hospital is holding a costume party tonight; you're one of us-"

"I know, I know, but I've only got five more weeks and…"

"We got you a sexy pirate top!" Racknell cried with glee, holding up a black, cotton with only a few ruffles on its long sleeves. Besides that, it was fairly nice.

"You don't like it? Geez, we even got in a larger size with stretchy material. We tried it on Foreman, for God's sake!"

"Hey, I DO like it. I just feel more like Santa than Jack Sparrow."

Foreman smirked at this in what maybe could have been agreement, maybe not. "Santa's not coming for a few more months, and Joey will be out by then."

Chase smirked back, "Hopefully, Joey's pretty lazy these days, only kicks when you offer food. But I felt really tired after work-"

"Oh, come on! Even my psychotic Hare Krishna friends dress up! What are you, an atheist?" Racknell whined.

"I'm a Catholic, not a fanatic." Chase said, gesturing to them to come in. "Cameron, you know where the coffee pot is. I wish you luck in finding the coffee though."

Cameron nodded, walking into the kitchen. Foreman and Racknell found seats and took them promptly. Chase headed into the privacy of his bedroom.

One thing he'd noticed with his growing frame was that he'd seemed to have gone through a few varying stages. Stage one had been eight months ago; he'd been looking his version of the norm. Not painfully thin like House joked about, but softer, maybe slight curves. That was when there were no hints whatsoever about what might change his life now he was twenty-seven.

Stage two, had been around seven to five months ago. Nausea and fatigue had hit. Hard, and it wasn't helping much with putting weight on around anywhere else but his hips. That had been weird, not knowing what was going on.

Stage three? That was probably around when he'd found out; when weight started appearing back in other places he'd lost it. If House had an opinion on it? "The plumping stage".

"And, now here we are, having a go at squeezing into a pair jeans that fit two weeks ago. I love you, but you are really making it difficult to find something to wear." Chase murmured, smiling and looking down to pat his rounded tummy.

"Chase? You alive in there?" Racknell called from the lounge.

"Um, yeah. Just a minute."

The next minute was spent shuffling into a looser pair of jeans and slipping on a pair of dirty sand shoes. The few seconds after that, he was back out in the lounge.

Somebody else had joined them, and she looked dead waterlogged.

If his memory of high school Shakespeare was correct, Ophelia had drowned herself towards the end of Hamlet. If that was right, there she was on the couch, fiddling with a fish-shaped pendant.

"Oh, you're ready?" Idnax asked, seemingly embarrassed by her dead appearance. God, if her mother saw her now…"You look fantastic now."

"You think? It kind of hugs my stomach a bit-"

"C'mon, Chase. You do look brilliant." Cameron smiled.

"Right," Foreman said, banging his coffee mug down. "We ready to go?"

"Yeah." Everyone else replied.

--

As most Halloween parties loaded with teenagers go, they can get pretty wild. Replace teenagers with doctors and nurses who are allowed to drink alcohol and smoke; well, it sounded pretty scary.

Talk and laughter rang throughout the venue, those who smoked were letting it rise to the ceiling, Christina Aguilera's "Ain't No Other Man" was playing at full bore (how the hell does that even classify as a song for Halloween?). On the stage, several skinny nurses were performing a flimsy routine to Michael Jackson's "Thriller". Most doctors were dressed as typical scary things; most nurses looked like they wanted to get laid.

"Well, might as well find something to gape at." Idnax said, looking over at some drunken nurse-on-intern action.

"Actually," Chase said, putting a fidgety hand on his stomach, "I'm feeling peckish. I never had dinner; can I grab something to eat?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll grab us some drinks, the blood blackberries look good. Want one, Cameron?" Racknell asked chirpily.

"Yeah, sounds good. Want a beer, or a yeast fright, or whatever the hell they call 'em now it's Halloween?" Cameron replied.

"Sure, and you Id?" Foreman asked, continuing the circle of drink orders.

"I'll think I might drive tonight. I'll get some sort of fruit juicy thing, but no lime!" Idnax said.

Cameron made a verbal list. "Okay; so its blood blackberries for Racks and I, beer for Foreman, and apple juice for you. Maybe a sparkling water for-"

"I think I might have half a glass of white wine. Chardonnay sounds good." Chase interrupted. They all stared in a surprised manner, before Cameron defended her choice of drink.

"Chase, are you sure? It's not really that wise to be drink-"

"Hey, this is a fun night, and as a doctor, I thought we might know what is and isn't good for 35-week-old foetuses, who aren't really gonna care if a smidgen of wine's running through my veins." Chase snapped back.

Slightly shocked by this, Cameron nodded and let him go off in search of food…

Shortly after collecting his half-glass of wine, Chase wandered over to find something for a light dinner. By luck, he found a small buffet of food that wasn't dyed bile green or blood red. Taking a sniff of the good smells coming from the steaming trays made his mouth water and his stomach growl.

"God, how boring must he food be for you to be drooling over it? Gluttony, sixth deadly sin. May explain your waistline." A grumpy voice casually commented.

Not even a new intern couldn't have guessed who that voice belonged to. Chase turned around, ready for another battle of words with House, dressed as a Victorian gentleman.

"I thought you were the first to suspect I was pregnant. I'm growing, it's this inevitable thing that happens when you're expectant; like your boss hassling you."

"Wah, you're up the spout? That explains a lot; bulging belly, holding onto your back, being incredibly smart all of a sudden, never thought you might actually have a brain inside you for a while."

"Oh, really? Get stuffed." Chase said bluntly, turning his back on Abraham House and heading off to find the group again.

"Hey, not that you haven't lost it! Even lesbians are after you!" House yelled out, unintentionally pulling the last straw. Chase came storming back, a look of fury in his eyes.

"What…did you just say!"

"God, didn't Pip tell you? Well, I checked her for STDs, mainly as an excuse to see if she was les. Her skirts are short, her tops too tight. Either she was a whore or in need to straighten herself out." He was still joking, even thought Chase no longer was.

"Well, don't we know how to break up relationships better than a hooker?"

"Thanks, but-"

"And my shape! Get a life, bastard! Find somebody who might care about what you think!"

"You're yelling, you're caring…" House explained, before five fingers said one word to his stubbled cheek.

"Go to hell." Chase said, turning his head away so his boss didn't have to see his watery eyes and stalking off.

He was so angry? He had his own life, Stacy had proven that. Why must he interfere with everyone else's business? All he wanted now was to go home, get away from this insane gathering. Brushing past Count Dracula-Wilson and Cuddy, Goddess of Elegance, he started to realise how exhausted he was feeling.

"Hey! Chase, are you alright?" Cuddy flagged him down by his shoulder, making him look into her eyes.

"No…House…" Chase said, before he felt his knees give way to his heavy body before blacking out. The last thing her heard was Wilson crying out "Oh, not this again."

A/N: Cliffy, dar dump dar dump dar dump…Never you mind what's wrong now. NOT.