The feeling of wind rushing past him, plucking at his clothes. The thousands of smells, pleasant and not. The sheer number and variety of sounds being carried towards him on the wind.

Chase didn't realize he was holding House very tightly around the waist, didn't realize that he was straining forward, listening, sniffing, feeling.

House could feel it, but said nothing, and did nothing to prevent it. Just smiled and tried to breathe higher up in his chest, because Chase was squishing the lower parts.

It didn't occur to Chase, until they pulled up in front of it, that House shouldn't technically know where his apartment was.

Chase didn't really care, and wasn't at all surprised.

"Thanks." he said awkwardly, finally realizing how tightly he had been holding.

"Be careful about the cut."

Chase nodded, hand on the railing as he walked up the steps to the front door of his building.

"Chase."

Chase turned, even though he could hear perfectly well facing away from House.

"Wilson and Cuddy have been trying to get me to replace you for the past four months. I can't find anyone who comes anywhere near close to replacing you who can stand me. It's getting really annoying. I'd rather not have to keep trying."

"I can't." said Chase, immediately.

"Yes you can. The only thing stopping you is you saying you can't. That's stupid. You can not want to, and you can be not ready to face everyone, but I'm not gonna let you make a decision based on the completely false belief that you can't do at least twenty percent better than you did before you left, when I'm sure you can," snapped House, sounding seriously annoyed.

Chase nodded calmly, unlocked the door, walked in, closed it behind him, and slid down the wall, tears forming in his eyes and spilling onto his cheeks.

House....

How could someone who hated dealing with people so much know exactly what he needed to hear?

And why did he bring himself to say it?

Chase wasn't sad.

That wasn't why he was crying.

He was happy.

So happy.

Happy.

For the first time in five months.

He was happy.

Over the moon happy.

A week later, he still hadn't made a decision.

He wanted to go back. But, like House had said, he wasn't sure he was ready to face everyone.

He was checking his email, fingers going over the refreshable braille display as he opened each one.

''

He clicked it, sighing.

Cameron had kept trying the longest, she had sent him one email every week for the last three months–on Tuesday.

Then he blinked, as it formed the the 'to' address.

It was the 24/7 consult email, not his personal one.

His mouth twitched.

'Dear Diagnosis Needed, I've got a patient with multi-system involvement. My colleague thinks it's an infection, but I think it's lupus. I've attached a scan of the patient's file. The only thing is my boss won't accept your consult unless you actually come to our office... if you think it's lupus, could you tell me why, so I can make the argument myself?
Sincerely, Alison Cameron'

Chase paused for a long time, thinking.

Then he smiled to himself.

'Dear Alison Cameron,

It's never lupus.

–DN

P.S. I think I might actually give you that face-to-face consult.'

House grinned, reading the email Cameron had shoved at him under the impression it had been him that had written it.

"Got tell Cuddy to leave off about Chase. I'm not interviewing anymore." announced House, entering Wilson's office.

Wilson looked at him, "You choose someone?"

House shook his head.

"Don't need a replacement."

"You do, and you know it. I'm not telling Cuddy that because you're in denial again."

House shook his head again.

"Just tell her to cancel the next few interviews. Seriously, there's a reason. I've got someone coming in."

Wilson sighed, nodding.

House looked up, as a careful knock sounded on his office door.

He smiled, glancing into the differential room as he got up, grinning further at the shocked looks on Cameron and foreman's faces.

He opened the door.

"Dr. Chase."

"Dr. House."

Chase broke into a grin, "How freaked do they look?"

"Pretty freaked. I think Cameron's gonna faint. Foreman sprayed his coffee all over the table."

Chase laughed. This had definitely been worth the coaching over the weekend, so Chase could turn up at the diagnostics office alone.

Foreman finally recovered enough to stop openly gaping, and stood, walking though the door into House's office.

"Foreman." said House under his breath.

Foreman stopped a few feet away from Chase, open-mouthed.

"Why didn't you tell us?"he asked finally, "and what the hell happened?"

Chase shrugged.

"I didn't want you to get upset. Figured you'd be happier thinking I was just a jerk, 'cause I had to leave no matter what."

"But... what happened? And are you back, or just visiting?"

Chase turned his head towards House briefly, confirming his half.

"He's back," said House, sealing the deal.

Foreman looked straight at Chase.

"What happened?"

House raised his eyebrows, watching with interest as Chase turned his head so that he would be looking directly at foreman.

"Nothing."

"But–"

"Nothing."

A slow grin started to spread across House's face.

"What–"

"Nothing."

"Chase, what–"

"Nothing."

Foreman stared at him.

"Oh, Chase. You mind telling Cameron that 'DN' is not me? 'Cause she seems to think she has irrefutable proof that it is."

Chase laughed.

"Yeah, I'll tell her that."

Chase headed towards the door to the differential room, but missed by a few feet, feeling for the handle where it wasn't.

"To your right." said House.

"Thanks."

Foreman looked at House, angry.

"You knew! You knew, and you didn't tell us! Why the hell didn't you tell us?! Just 'cause you don't want anybody to care doesn't mean he doesn't!"

"I didn't know."

"You weren't the least bit surprised."

"Because my surprise came three weeks ago, when he showed up in the clinic 'cause he needed stitches in his hand. That's when I found out."

Foreman glared at him.

"Why didn't you tell us then?"

"Because he didn't want me to."

"Like that's ever stopped you before!"

"There are lines I don't cross. This was one of them. Yell all you want, I don't care."

"Why'd he come to you?!"

"He came at eight in the morning, he tried to leave when he realized it was me."

"So he was nervous! That's no reason to–"

"Um, foreman... I'm not deaf. I can hear everything you two are saying." said Chase, poking his head back through the door.

Foreman looked between him and House, spluttering.

House looked past Chase, into the differential room, where Cameron was still sitting, completely stunned.

He pushed past foreman, touched Chase on the shoulder to get him to move, and slammed his cane down on the table right in front of Cameron.

She jumped straight out of her chair, yelping.

Chase blinked, startled, but grinned as he guessed what had happened.

"You know, just 'cause he can't tell you're staring doesn't mean it's polite." said House gruffly, leaning into Cameron's face.

Cameron backed up, nearly knocking her chair over in the process.

"I'm sorry. Chase, I'm sorry." she said, getting up, and fleeing out the door into the hallway.

"Cam?" asked Chase, slightly confused.

"She's just freaked. She'll get over it." said House, sitting on the table and nudging a chair towards Chase's searching hands with his left foot.

Foreman had calmed significantly, and was now looking between the two with a significant amount of interest. He had never seen House act like that, not with anyone. Not even Wilson.

Chase sat down with a relieved sigh.

Chase sighed, leaning forward and closing his eyes, face in the crook of his elbow.

House was still in the room, but hadn't made any noise for a while.

"You tire easily," observed House calmly.

Chase lifted his head momentarily, about to deny the fact, but sighed, and gave up, laying it back down almost as soon as he had raised it.

"Yes, I do."

"And you don't seem to get hungry."

Chase sighed.

"And my hair is shorter than it used to be, and my wrist doesn't bend all the way because I broke it having a seizure, and–"

"I don't want to push. I'm sorry. It's a reflex."

Chase was silent for a while.

"Thank you."

House didn't say anything in reply.

Chase sighed, waiting for the bus on the bench outside the hospital.

He heard a rumble, but it wasn't the bus, wasn't nearly big enough.

"Need a ride?"

Ah, no wonder it sounded familiar.

House.

"Why are you asking? You're not stuck in a bathroom this time."

"Because sitting on bus benches 'cause you can't drive sucks. Too much time to think."

Chase blinked.

"What?"

"Forget it. You want a ride or not?"

Chase smiled a little, nodding.

Getting on was much easier this time, he knew what he was doing, but the ride was just as enthralling. At least he didn't squish House that time.

He smiled and waved as the sound of the motorcycle roared, then started to fade away as House pulled away from his apartment building.

Chase kept smiling to himself all the way inside.

Then it faded, about as quickly as the sound of House's motorcycle had.

He didn't like being alone here. Or anywhere, for that matter. But especially here.

Three days later, he still hadn't had to take a bus or cab home.

The morning of the forth day brought a rumbling sound outside his front wall.

It was weird, and it was freaking him out slightly, but it was also nice. Nice to know that somebody still gave enough of a damn to pick him up in the morning and drop him off at night. Even if it was a misanthropic bastard like House.

He wandered out, still in his pajamas.

"You want some coffee?" he asked, scratching his hand through his mussed hair.

A laugh, and the sound of the engine cutting out.

"Guess I'm early."

"Yeah. Actually, you woke me up."

"Sorry."

"Did you seriously just apologize?"

He heard House snicker, and walked sleepily back into his apartment.

Limping footsteps and a few grunts came up the steps behind him, making him smile.

He added another few scoops of grounds to the coffee maker, as well as another cup and a half of water.

He flicked the switch on, then reached into the cupboard, getting two mugs–the front two out of the three he owned--as well as a bowl for himself.

He set them down, pulled the sugar and his cereal out of a cabinet, and poured himself a bowl of multi-grain cheerios.

Three spoons came out of a drawer under the counter, milk and cream out of the refrigerator.

They ate in relative silence, after which Chase went to get dressed, and House looked around the younger doctor's apartment.

He still had a lot of normal books, but they were interspersed with braile ones.

House yawned, leaning back in his recliner, about to close his eyes.

He was doing this partially because he was tired, but mostly because he was trying very hard to not analyze Chase into the ground.

Chase didn't want to tell people.

House had said he wouldn't push.

But, dammit, he wanted to know the answer!

He quirked one eye open, as he heard sounds from the differential room.

Urgh, Cameron had finally gotten over her shock.

Chase apparently hadn't lost any libido as a result of whatever had happened.

House watched with only mild interest for a few more seconds, then started to close his eyes.

He stopped, and opened them again, as Cameron pulled back, staring at Chase.

She had been running her hands through his hair.

Now she looked like she was going to cry.

Chase sighed, shaking his head, and putting a hand tentatively out, reaching for her shoulder.

Cameron asked him something.

He hesitated, then shook his head.

Cameron started to lean back in, but then stood up, hand over her face, and hurried out.

Chase just sat there, confused light blue eyes directed at the spot Cameron had been in, blond eyebrows touching, mouth open a little bit, as though about to say something.

House sighed, shaking his head.

The lower lip was trembling a little bit.

Chase closed his mouth, shut his eyes, got off the chair, and sat down in a corner, face buried in his knees.

House waited a while, but the situation didn't change of its own accord.

He got up, limping into the differential room.

He saw Chase tense, shoving his face further out of sight.

"I didn't mean to figure it out. But I did, watching that just now. I'm sorry."

Chase sniffed.

"Thank you."

He sniffed again.

"Thank you, House. Please go away now."

House stood there, watching, standing on the edge.

Oh, damn it all. Chase wasn't going to hurt him. Chase was the one who was hurt.

Chase jumped, as a hand gently rested on his shoulder.

Then he sniffed, raising his head from his knees and resting it sideways against the hand, eyes still closed.

"Thank you," he said, so quietly House barely caught it.