Intense

—passionate in emotion, thought, or activity; occurring or existing in a high degree; very strong, violent, extreme, sharp, vivid, etc.—

Disclaimer: I don't own House, M.D. No copyright infringement intended. Written with all respect towards the creators.

Chapter 4: Accidentally

"He drives me insane," she ranted as they entered the hospital again, scant break almost over. "What's worse, he drives me insane as a doctor and just as himself!"

"Mhmn," Chase replied, hoping he sounded appropriately sympathetic. This was girl stuff, and he was sick of hearing about House, House, House. They'd broken up a week ago, but you couldn't tell from the way Cameron talked.

They were actually in a strange sort of friendship. He knew that she knew that he had some feelings for her; after all, he'd asked her for a casual date before. He just wasn't sure if she'd realized that he hadn't been as flippant about it as he'd acted.

They'd started to talk simply because of the sheer amount of time they spent together at the hospital. Most of Chase's friends were in Australia, and most of her girlfriends were as busy as she was. They'd found out that they had more in common than anyone would have guessed. She talked, he listened, and it worked out—even outside eyes noticed that they got along well. Technically, they were using each other, but then again, Chase was cynical when it came to friendship.

The subject of today's chat was, of course, House and his faults. The unexpected surprise was that the subject was present when Chase and Cameron entered the conference room, along with Foreman. It was late, almost nine, and they'd just wrapped up a case. Usually, by this point everyone just wanted to get home and sleep, considering the latter had been in short quantity over the last week or so of constant patient monitoring, tests, and so forth. Cameron practically pounced at the opportunity.

"You're such a Machiavellian bastard," Cameron accused. Normally Foreman and Chase would've enjoyed watching anyone who was stupid enough to get in a spat with House, but this time they just exchanged worried looks. Well, Chase looked worried; Foreman naturally had to pretend that gawking was beneath him, so he put on a look of boredom. Funnily, everyone in the room had picked up immediately on the seeming non sequitur. Of course, House professed not to, because it was more fun that way.

"I don't understand," House said in an injured tone. "Care to refresh my memory on the ramblings of ancient Italian philosophers?"

"What I mean is that to you the ends justify all the means," she hissed. "You ordered a dozen invasive tests to be done on that poor eight year old girl when two, possibly three would have sufficed."

"Wrong. She wouldn't have lived long enough for the inconclusive test results to come back and for you to realize that you needed to cut her open anyway." House twirled his cane in irritation, actually baffled as to the real reason why Cameron was mad.

Chase actually agreed with him on this one; Cameron was clearly just in the mood to pick a fight. That was rare, but then again, she had a good excuse for it. By now the entire hospital staff must have heard about House's brief fling with her. She hated being known as the brainless pretty girl, or as the excessively emotional doctor. Chase and Foreman could only guess how much she hated having her reputation in tatters. There were good reasons why people were careful not to mix their personal and professional lives.

House scoffed at some point Cameron had made about how he had bullied the parents into signing the consent forms. "Whether my methods are questionable or not is a moot point. My results aren't questionable, are they? The patient is recovering and the case is a success. What more do you want?"

Chase thought the actual question being asked was more like, what more can you expect? You either got used to House and his idiosyncrasies, or you left. It was a miracle that all three of them had lasted this long, in fact. Cameron seemed to be teetering on the edge.

"What I want is to see the slightest bit of decency from you," she retorted.

"Sorry, all out of that. Why don't you ask your fairy godmother to give me some as a present?"

It was almost pitiful to see House's talent at work, turning everything into sarcasm. Chase had to admit, he'd thought that it was humorous on more than one occasion—that is, when the victim hadn't been one of the team. This time, as far as he could see, the only positive thing about this was that it was in the relative privacy of their conference room. He could imagine the gossip of the day as The Tragedy of House and Cameron: Part VI. Stay tuned for the next installment.

He looked at Foreman, who showed that he was clearly not about to intervene any time soon. Part of him was extremely tempted to act the same, but the fight looked as if it would escalate even more. Finally, Chase sighed and prepared himself for battle.

"Cameron, just let it go. You guys can argue for the next three weeks and House will never admit he might be wrong."

"Stay out of this, Chase. You've got nothing to do with it." He never seemed to get used to the full impact of having those blue eyes fixed angrily on him. Hell, why was he always the mediator between House and Cameron these days? Oh, right. Because the only person left would've been Foreman.

"Hey, I worked on the case too. I—"

"She's right, you've got nothing to do with it," House interrupted, turning back to Cameron. "Come on, you know you're only using him. Women are just so manipulative, really. What did you want to do, make me jealous?"

His barb came a little too close to the truth and the room was suddenly silent. House obligingly filled it. "Someone once said that the true man wants two things: danger and play. And for that reason he wants women, as the most dangerous plaything."

Another long pause. "Oh, right, it was Nietzsche. Don't you love him?"

Chase surreptitiously looked at the clock, glad that they always timed their breaks so that it was right at the end of the day. Ten more minutes till their unofficial shift was over—they'd all been working late over the last few days.

Cameron must have realized the same thing. Having endured enough, she turned to leave the room again. Chase, glad for the opportunity to leave as well, beat her to the door and held it open for her while she grabbed her personal things.

"Where are you going?" House had the gall to ask her, still sitting calmly at the table.

"Home," she retorted.

"You're abandoning me?" He pretended to be hurt, and it seemed to make a mockery of all the people who he'd injured earlier. Seeing his expression proved to be the last straw for Cameron.

"I'm so sick of this! I'm sick of your attitude and I'm sick of wishing I never fell in love with you. Most of all, I'm sick of always being the stupid, silly idiot who thought there was something in you that I could reach!"

She swept past Chase, who remained motionless from shock for a moment before belatedly letting the door go so it could close. Of course, since it was glass, it didn't prove to be much of a shield. Foreman, already naturally uncomfortable when it came to things like emotion, decided that he'd had enough too. Everyone wanted to get away from the big, bad, House.

Chase walked away, wondering what tomorrow would be like. They'd all be exceptionally professional, no doubt, and excessively distant. House would probably go back to calling them Dr. Cameron, Dr. Foreman, and Dr. Chase, like he did when they had first started.

Truth to tell, he mused as he made his way to the hospital parking building, this wasn't entirely unexpected. Usually the tension would build up from something House or one of them did, but eventually ease down again. This time, it just kept building and building with no respite. It seemed as if all the events had just been precursors to some big, disastrous finale that was as inevitable as a storm.

Halfway to his parking space, Chase realized that he'd left his wallet back at the hospital, with his driver's license included. Generally it was with him all the time, but today he'd taken it out and promptly forgotten to retrieve it in his haste to remove himself from the potential-casualty-zone of the House and Cameron wars.

Well, no hope for it, he reflected unhappily. Time to risk another foray. Hopefully, by the time he'd gotten back there Foreman and House would've left. Just to be sure, he decided, he'd give them an extra ten minutes.

It wasn't as if he was in any hurry to go anywhere tonight, and although some small, annoying voice in his mind insisted that he was a complete coward for not wanting to face anyone, he reasoned that it was really just a practical choice based on cost-benefit analysis. Sacrifice another ten minutes and possibly avoid an awkward moment that would stay in his memory for the rest of his life.

After the passage of said time period, Chase slipped back into the hospital and to their conference room almost as furtively as a thief. The lights were out but he didn't bother turning them on; he was quite familiar with the room since it was practically his second home, and he knew exactly where his stuff was.

So some very embarrassing sounds nearly issued from his throat when House's disembodied voice floated into his ears from somewhere in the darkness.

"What are you doing here, Chase?"

For a moment, thoughts of hallucinations and/or vengeful ghosts passed through his mind, before Chase recovered his logic. "Forgot something," he replied, feeling distinctively odd for talking to the dark. If he discovered later that he had a personalized House-voice in his head…

Needless to say, he left as quickly as possible and breathed a sigh of relief while walking back to the parking building. Now that he was away from House, he naturally wondered why the doctor had been sitting in the conference room in the dark. It had to be for some time, too. Come to think of it, hadn't House's voice been unusually hoarse? He hadn't noticed it before, since he'd been too busy suffering a pseudo heart attack, but it was just barely possible that House was sitting in the conference room, in the dark, feeling miserable about himself.

The thought gave Chase some satisfaction. If he was going to make everyone else suffer, by all rights he should suffer himself. Deep down, Chase sincerely liked House. That was one of the reasons why it had been all the more awful that Cameron had fallen in love with House. For all of House's faults, the people nearest to him, namely Wilson, Cuddy, and House's so-called 'ducklings,' could see past them to the better things beneath. To some extent, they understood why he did the things he did and they each forgave him for it.

It was almost ten, and it was quite dark outside. Chase was all around sympathetic for House, Cameron, and himself, and so exhausted that the world around him appeared to be almost dream-like. Heading towards the stairs—his car was unfortunately parked on the second level—Chase encountered yet another familiar face. He didn't particularly want to see her now, either, when his defenses were all down because he was so tired. Being sleep-deprived had surprisingly similar effects on inhibition as being drunk had.

Cameron sat on the first step, head buried in her arms. It was late, she was a woman, and she was sitting in a parking lot alone. If there was a Manual of Dangerous Situations, no doubt this would have satisfied the top three factors. The situation practically demanded Chase to notice and to do something about it. He wondered inanely if the knight in shining armor ever decided to conveniently ride past the damsel in distress.

"Why haven't you headed home?" he said, startling her into looking up. Once she saw who it was, she put her head down again, and Chase barely caught her muffled answer.

"No car, remember? That wasn't just an excuse for being late."

"So how are you going to get home?"

"Waiting for a friend to come pick me up. She'll get here around ten thirty."

"Well, I could give you a ride home like last time," he offered. "Your place isn't far from mine."

"No, it's all right. She'll be here soon."

"You shouldn't be out here alone, though. It's not safe." At her scornful look, Chase sighed internally. So much for gallantry, though it was true that this was hardly L.A. or New York in terms of crime rates. "Anyway, I'll stay with you until your friend gets here."

"You don't have to. I'm sure you're as tired as I am, if not more. Didn't you cover for Foreman last night, too? He had a date with someone."

Right, Chase had decided that it wasn't as if staying extra hours would interfere with his own non-existent social life. But he simply nodded now. "I don't mind."

"Up to you," was her only comment. From the other side of the parking lot someone's car was unlocked with a beep. The night was silent save for that and the low buzz of a streetlight about to break down—the streetlight that was closest to them, judging by the lousy quality of the flickering light it gave. Chase sat down on the step next to Cameron, wondering what would happen if he fell asleep here and was mistaken for some homeless guy.

House's accusation hung in the air between them awkwardly. Cameron stood up and stretched, walking a little distance away to look at the passing cars as if hoping one of them were her friend. He earnestly hoped that her friend would get here soon, but was pretty sure that the wish was as futile as a wish on the barely visible stars above them.

Chase was halfway asleep when out of the corner of his eye he saw Cameron's entire stance stiffen. Wondering what had caught her interest, he looked around and saw House making slow progress towards the parking structure. In other words, he'd cross paths with them.

Deprived of the hospital around him, House's presence somehow had remarkably shrunk, the main focus of attention now on his crippled leg and use of his cane, until he was rendered something human, weak, and all too fragile. Chase couldn't recall the last time he'd seen House in such a way, or indeed, if he had ever. House, humanized, was a disturbing thought.

Cameron turned away resolutely, and her movement marked the beginning of the events that unfolded like some particularly twisted dream. Chase didn't actually see the car; he heard it. The engine vibrated through the ground to where he sat on the stairs and the squeal of tires leaving marks on the ground sent alarm into his heart, the car coming down from the second floor, making a ridiculously sharp turn, going too fast—

Chase saw the rest, even though he could have predicted all the events without seeing any of it. There was protagonist A, to be referred to as House, making his way across the entrance of the parking structure, and there was protagonist B, Cameron, who secretly still loved protagonist A despite an ugly break up. There was the car, driven by unknown identity C, speeding towards A. B calls out a warning.

"Oh my God—GREG!"

And so House looks up at Cameron, because he does truly love her despite all the things he's done to hurt her, and becomes diverted from his task, and somehow manages to drop his cane. Without that last bit of support, House's downfall is inevitable—he is crippled, weak, unalterably human and subject to human things like the common cold and car accidents, all the things that Chase had been pondering just shortly before.

So in the wondrous fury of love, Cameron runs over to House in desperate effort to save him, and time plays one of its tricks so that somehow Chase barely manages to rise but Cameron's already made a flying tackle, effectively pushing herself and House to the side, although even from this distance, Chase can see that she's hurt herself, can see that her head makes contact with the floor, and the car did clip her. The car—no, it wasn't a car, it was a goddamn truck—rushes past. Time resumes its normal behavior.

Reality came flooding back in a sickening wave and it was Chase who ran towards them this time. House was bent over Cameron, and the irony was complete when their relationship became patient and doctor.

Chase fumbled frantically with his cell phone, the hospital number first on his speed-dial, competition for the nonexistent girlfriend. Even this late, someone picked up right away, and he spoke with remarkable calm: "This is Dr. Chase. I need a stretcher, people, at the parking lot. There's been an MVA and Cameron's hurt, possibly House as well."

There was a surreal quality to everything that happened afterward, that made everything seem blurry in memory, although Chase distinctly recalled the moment when he bent over the unconscious Cameron, House hovering over her from her other side. Blood stained the concrete, triggering some engrained instincts, transforming them from friend-lover and lover to doctors.

A team came out and within minutes Cameron was in PPTH again, as if fate had chained her to the hospital one way or another. House didn't regain his aura of flippant confidence and remained broken, cursed by Cameron into Greg.

People assumed Chase was passive because he was quiet, they thought he didn't feel anything because he was never passionate about making his views known. Yet deep inside was the intensity of the ocean, still and powerful, more profound within than could be expressed.

Chase was a doctor. Chase was an intensivist. He was used to handling pressure like this, was probably as used to death as a human could be. But when he saw that it was Cameron on the bed, bright lights shining down onto her pale face and highlighting the blood, the list of injuries already being dictated by the doctor, everything changed.

It shattered every pretense and forced him to deal with the ungentle reality of what she really meant to him…and the intensity of that emotion, which simply could not be ignored.

xxxxx

A/N: As usual, please review! I always try to update faster when I know there are people waiting, and your comments mean a lot to me. You guys are my primary inspiration, other than the new episodes.

Thanks – E.D.