Chapter 16

Some things don't change.

Sheehan's was quiet this time of the day. It was still early; the serious drinkers wouldn't arrive for another couple of hours.

For now, there was room at the bar and getting a drink took only a minute, tops. House slotted right into his old seat, everything that odd kind of familiar. The décor was still as sparse as it had always been, the barman had changed but kept the attitude and, most importantly, there were no PPTH faces to be found in the vicinity.

House had spent the afternoon in various bookstores and coffee shops, taking advantage of free Wi-Fi, and was now glad to see the end of this day. It had been a long one. But there was one more job to be done.

He had texted Chase straight after ending the call with Foreman, guessing it would be best to give the Aussie as much notice as possible. You never knew if and when he'd be able to get away if he was on a case. So he chose a meeting place where he wouldn't mind spending an extra hour waiting for his former fellow. He'd had enough coffee for one day. Sheehan's was perfect.

"You up for a talk about your future? Sheehan's 8pm."

Apparently, Chase wasn't quite as quick on the uptake as Foreman. "Who's this?"

"Someone you want to talk to if you want to save your job."

There had been no further reply. Now House was waiting to see if Chase was worried enough to show up.

He was and he did.

Half an hour late, Chase slid smoothly onto the bar stool to House's right. He acknowledged House with a nod, saw that the barman was at the other end of the bar serving customers and asked, "do they have a drinks menu?"

"Nope. And before you even ask, they don't do fancy craft beers either."

House was amused by how little and yet how much Chase had changed. He was still as pretty and blond as ever. But he looked stressed: lines had started to show on his boyish face and there were dark circles around his eyes which were now half hidden behind a pair of horn-rimmed glasses.

"What's with the glasses?"

"We all get older." Chase shrugged and caught the barman's attention to order a beer. Then he turned to House. "Do you want to stay here at the bar or move to a table? Maybe more private that way?"

House grinned. "I don't know what you've got planned, but I'm fine where I am."

He held Chase's inquiring gaze.

"So you aren't in trouble with the law? Are you a free man again? And alive, for that matter?"

Apparently, Foreman hadn't blabbed.

"Alive and kicking."

House ordered another bourbon for himself and watched Chase almost downing his beer in one. Someone was thirsty. "And another bottle of whatever Mr. Happy here had."

Chase raised an eyebrow. "House paying for drinks - things have definitely changed. Did you have a personality transplant while you were supposedly dead?"

"I spent two years with Wilson, his do-goodery rubbed off. Wouldn't be here otherwise."

"How is Wilson?"

"Peachy."

"I was wrong. You haven't changed at all. Since you said you spent two years with him I guess you somehow made him change his mind about treatment. Good for you. And for him, obviously."

House nodded. "Happiness all around."

Chase fiddled with a beermat. "Talking about happiness, are you okay with me running your department now?"

"You asking if you deserve it? Want my approval?" House sipped his bourbon. "Then you don't deserve it."

When Chase didn't reply House looked up and caught him grinning into his beer.

"You're too cocky. But then, so was I."

"Was?" The glee in Chase's face was apparent. He seemed to enjoy sparring with House as much as ever.

"Oh, wait. Was that a flutter of pity?" House cocked his head in mock attention. "No, sorry. My mistake. You do deserve Foreman as boss."

"I remember you complaining about Cuddy getting involved in every aspect of the department, but believe me, Foreman is worse." He waited for Chase to elaborate but nothing followed.

House drained his glass, signalled the barman to bring him another and then finally asked, "So how are things really? Why didn't you diagnose the woman with Type 3 PAS?"

Chase looked surprised.

"How do you know about that?"

"One, because I sent her to you and two, because she's now complaining all over the internet that you're useless. And me too, by the way, because I recommended you."

Chase took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

"Did you know she had PAS? Scratch that. Of course you did," he corrected himself. "I can't believe you'd put a patient's life in jeopardy. Why? Were you bored?"

"An idiot would spot the bruises and put two and two together. They weren't bruises but skin discolorations from her diabetes which she also didn't know she had. Besides, I was dead and couldn't officially diagnose her. I was just a concerned forum user who pointed her in the right direction. Or so I thought."

Chase looked dejected.

Not entirely sure if he really wanted to go there, House took a leap anyway.

"You need help, mate. Up to 5% of your cases go undiagnosed and your overall numbers are way down."

"How do you know?" Chase scowled.

"I haff wayz and meanz," House joked. In truth, all he had was Google, membership of various online medical communities and Foreman's statement that the numbers weren't great. "At the risk of sounding like your shrink: Do you want to talk about it?"

Chase snorted but didn't say anything for a while. He finished his beer and ordered another one, then put his glasses back on. He eventually took them off again and looked straight at House.

"People don't trust me." As if that was new. But House let him finish his little, clearly unrehearsed speech. "I'm too young, don't have enough experience, look too smooth – whatever it is, they're not giving me a chance. And I'm supposed to be the eminent department head. My team should be able to use me as a back-up if there are issues with the patient. Your PAS patient didn't like the look of me the minute she clapped eyes on me. It was a losing battle – I'm pretty sure we didn't get a full history."

"So you think wearing glasses and a suit your grandfather could've rocked will make you less pretty and more trustworthy? You think the referrals will start piling up because you dress differently? Good luck with that."

"Got a better idea?"

House had plenty of ideas. He just wasn't sure if he wanted to tell Chase about any of them and, even less, if he wanted to put any of them into action. In fact, coming back to the east coast, he had worried about getting sucked into the PPTH vortex of insanity again. And he was dancing dangerously close to it right now. He hadn't promised Foreman anything other than that he'd talk to Chase. He could tick that item off his list. Theoretically, he could call it a day and leave it at that.

But the Aussie looked resigned and while House might have pretended to have no real interest in how his old department was doing, it wasn't quite the truth. Diagnostics at PPTH had been the first department of its kind and as such was something of House's baby. His name might no longer be on the door but it would forever be associated with it. House had to admit he felt a little nostalgic and protective.

"Yeah, I do. Say, would Foreman fork out some money for regular or irregular consults?"

There, he had said it. He had no intentions of ever setting foot in the building again, let alone of showing up on Foreman's payroll. But he didn't need to. If he could have access to some interesting cases, get paid for it and help Chase back on his feet, and all of it without being beholden to anyone, why should he turn his back on that opportunity?

"I guess. As long as it brings in results. That's all he cares about; his numbers." Chase shrugged.

"Having someone with experience on call, someone whose name you can pull out of your sleeve like an ace could be the confidence booster you need. You don't have to use it. You know full well that a confident demeanor is half the battle. But now you will have something to back it up. Just knowing you have VIP access will make people trust you."

Chase, however, wasn't quite as delighted and eager as House had hoped. He liked being in charge and was worried about losing control. He disliked being told what to do, but House also knew he wasn't above making a shady deal or two to further his career.

"And that mysterious VIP would be you, I guess."

"Might be. If the conditions are right." House knew he would have to make Chase work for it. Presenting him everything nicely wrapped with a bow on top wouldn't go down well. It would just be more of the same – young doctor is handed his career on a silver platter. Chase had spent most of his life trying to first step out of his father's shadow and later out of House's, so he wasn't about to happily move back.

It took Chase a few moments to reach a decision. "Okay, what do you have in mind?"

They spent the next hour drawing up the details of their future collaboration. More drinks and a bag of pretzels aided the brainstorming process.