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. and no copyright infringement intended.

Chapter 7: Unexpectedly

Through the microscope Chase could see the viral growth, which had caused a cytopathic effect on the embryonic lung fibroblasts that he had cultivated. The cells were rounded and refractile and would eventually lyse. But as he carefully examined the neutralization assays and looked for the fluorescent stain, only half of Chase's mind was on the slide before him. The other half couldn't help but reflect on the closeness between Jesús and Carlos.

It was odd, how science and medicine were perceived to be objective and professional, and yet illness was at once something both so impersonal and personal. Despite his son's history of lying about medical illnesses, Carlos had brought Jesús in for check ups and doctor appointments regularly even for minor complaints. He must have been busy as a single working parent, but it was clear that he genuinely loved his kid. Rarer yet, he did so in a way that showed love – something that Chase simply didn't feel was really the case with many parents these days.

Oh, sure, parents spoiled their kids in outrageous ways. Expensive presents, big birthday parties, new cars, credit cards, and most of it had to do with money. Few people seemed to realize that affluence wasn't nearly an acceptable substitute for love. Or, they knew it and still did it anyway. As trite as the saying was, money could buy a lot, but some things were priceless. Jesús was pretty lucky, all in all. In the end, what he had in his father more than made up for his lack of material possessions.

It was a good thing, too, since Chase could see that it was definitely conxsackievirus B. Only, the findings also showed that his case was also something rare and 'extraordinary,' as House put it. He leaned down to double check his results before feeling the back of his neck prickle for seemingly no reason.

"Pleurodynia," House breathed into his ear just as he shrugged the feeling off and started messing with the viral culture. Biting back some few choice words, Chase jerked away, thankful that he had avoided any damage to the equipment or culture.

"Your attempts to make me choke don't exactly work," he said dryly to a rather childishly pleased House. "One of these days, you really need to learn when to give up. Anyway, we guessed it was pleurodynia before we did the tests."

"Unlucky Jésus," was the droll reply, before House looked at Chase, eyes gleaming. "Pop quiz. What do we do now, doctor?"

Chase rolled his eyes. "Put him on NSAIDs for the pain and pleurisy?"

"Why make it into a question?"

His tone didn't fit his words. For some reason, House sounded much more sincere than usual. Chase looked at him, wondering if there was some kind of reason, but the older doctor merely shrugged and left. That alone set off all the alarms in Chase's head, since in all the time he'd worked for House he couldn't recall a single moment when he'd felt as if House had given him, well, a pat on the back. He tried to shrug off the uncomfortable thought that it was almost paternal, tried not think of exactly how much he'd let House bend him to whatever the older doctor's will, if it meant he got approval in return. Surely he wasn't that desperate. He didn't go looking to any older authority figure for whatever he'd lacked from his father. But Chase couldn't be sure at all.

Cameron was acting weirdly, or at least secretively. Now it was House, and Chase couldn't think of any explanation for either person's behavior. Of course, it was just barely possible that maybe House was just in an exceptionally good mood.

Unfortunately, that left only Cameron for Chase to wonder about.

xxxxx

"So are you planning on watching me eat my entire lunch, or is there a particular reason why you're staring at me like that?" Wilson grumbled, slightly unnerved by House's unusual silence. He supposed it was just another variation of his 'let's try to annoy Wilson as much as possible for fun because I'm bored' schemes.

"Of course there's a reason, Wilson. I don't know if you've noticed, but for the last year and a half, I have been deeply, madly, truly in love with you," House said, widening his eyes and leaning forward until he was almost nose to nose with Wilson. "It's because your eyes are just so captivating, and the way you chew your food is sublime. I think the most beautiful expression in the world is when your eyes get that slightly unfocused look—"

"Yes, yes, I love you too, House," Wilson interrupted hastily, brushing aside what House considered to be an Oscar-worthy performance. "Though God knows why. So can you please get to the point before Cuddy finds out you're missing and comes in here?"

"Don't you want to find out how Christ is doing?"

Wilson deliberately took another bite of his sandwich before responding. "Christ?"

"Yeah, otherwise known as the Boy Who Cried Wolf." House sighed when Wilson continued to look disinterested. "What do I have to do, kiss you or something? In case you care, treatment's going well with supportive management."

"What do you want, House?"

"Have you heard from a certain Aussie lung cancer consult recently?"

Slightly surprised, Wilson looked at House with raised eyebrows. "You know, there's this thing called doctor-patient confidentiality. I'm sure you've never heard about it, but it's rather important to good, law-abiding, trustworthy people."

"How conveniently boring for them," House retorted. "Their patients should totally get a 'My doctor is an Honor Student at Princeton Plains Plains-Borough Teaching Hospital' bumper sticker. The best thing is that it's long enough to take up the whole bumper. I can't wait to see one on the occasional Ferrari. So, Wilson, tell me."

"It's none of your business, House, unless you're having second thoughts about keeping your promise. It's his decision whether he wants to tell his son or not." Despite his warning tone, Wilson looked at House with new eyes. There was no reason for House to get involved—guilt wasn't a motivating factor when House was concerned.

"Well, it'd be nice if Cameron could get off her unhealthy fixation on 'fixing me,'" House said blithely. "She could go fix Chase."

"Let me think this through. You want Chase's father to die…so that Chase can be devastated…so that Cameron would have a new target for her concerns…so that you'd be let off the hook?" Wilson shook his head. "That's convoluted and rather low, even for you."

"I rather like my ducklings fully functional. Besides, a slight shove in both directions, and Chase and Cameron should collide fairly well, don't you think?"

Staring at House's bland, innocent expression, Wilson started laughing incredulously. "Are you serious? How did you go from dating her and being dumped to trying to set her up?"

"Soap operas are so much more interesting in real life," House pointed out. "What can I say, I got tired of watching it on-screen. All we really need is some skank to chase after Chase so that Cameron can get in a bitch fight with her. Oh, and you with pom-poms, cheering them on."

"House, are you high?"

"Maybe? Now, are you going to tell me or not?"

"Confidentiality," Wilson reminded him. "If you're so desperate to know, talk to him yourself."

"Yeah, yeah. Some help you are," House grumbled. "Is it anytime soon?"

"House! He's a respected doctor, dying of cancer, don't you think you can be the least bit sensitive about it?"

House looked at Wilson for a moment, seemingly finally serious. "Okay, thanks for you help."

"Go away, O honorable matchmaker," Wilson said, smiling in response to House's glare. "And leave me to finish my lunch in peace."

It wasn't until House was almost at the door that Wilson realized something. "What do you mean, thanks? I didn't help you at all."

"He's 'dying of cancer' and you want me to be 'sensitive about it.' I give him two or three weeks, at most."

"What—?!" Wilson sputtered.

"Don't choke on your sandwich, Wilson. I tend to break ribs when I attempt the Heimlich." Since Wilson didn't respond, House stepped back into the office, neatly took the other half of the sandwich from Wilson's hand, and swept out before Wilson even realized what he had filched.

Wilson could only sigh at the brilliant, but sometimes brilliantly immature doctor that was ostensibly his best friend. He didn't really believe that House would have done all this if he wasn't somehow genuinely concerned about Chase, but the mystery was why. Out of the three, Wilson was a little surprised that Chase would merit the most attention from House. After all, Foreman was arguably the most logical and House-like, whereas House had actually dated Cameron, and Chase—well, House loved to play with Chase. Wilson just hoped that House wouldn't accidentally break his toy, if that was what Chase was to him. Of course, it almost seemed like House felt responsible, but maybe he was just reading too much into it, right?

xxxxx

Through the window Chase could see that Cameron was already speaking with the young patient and his father, no doubt assuring them in the sympathetic manner she was known for. They had rather carefully avoided each other during the day, although sometimes Chase could swear that he could feel Cameron's gaze on him, resting on him like some meditative weight. He could only guess what she was thinking.

It was funny, he was almost dreading this as if he were expecting a breakup speech, but they weren't together. Chase told himself he was going to ridiculous lengths. They were friends. Well, except he wasn't sure they could really call each other friends. But they weren't dating, because Cameron had made it clear that she wasn't interested—or had she?

"So, I guess it's close to case closed, for them," he said when she came out to stand with him.

"You should go in. He wants to thank you," Cameron told him.

Chase only shook his head slightly. "I'd rather not. Besides, I think he's perfectly happy spending time with his son."

"It's because of your father, isn't it?" she asked shrewdly. "It probably hits a little too close to home."

Chase tried to look bland when he turned to her, but Cameron seemed to read something in his expression that made her look as if she wished she could take her words back. "I know, it's none of my business," she said softly.

It was kind of an apology for prying, but it also sounded almost like a challenge to him, as if she were daring him to admit that if, if they were friends, or if they were maybe more than that, he would refute her words. But he didn't speak because he didn't know what to say, and they continued watching Jesús and his father for a while before Cameron turned away.

"We should give them some privacy," she said. Chase didn't protest, even though neither of them had really had their attention on the people on the other side of the glass, and they couldn't have heard what was being said in the room anyway. He turned to her just as she turned to him, and their gazes met for a moment before they both looked away.

"Chase, don't you think we should talk?"

"Okay," he said. She turned toward him slightly at his indistinguishable tone, but he followed her as they headed back to the conference room. He couldn't help but remember that it was the exact place where she had argued with House. Was that where this whole mess started, or was it even before that? Once there, Cameron dropped into a chair while Chase leaned against the table, giving himself an excuse for not facing her too directly.

"So, maybe you want to tell me why you went to such lengths to make sure House knew that we slept together," he said evenly, trying to keep his growing anger out of his voice. "Or, whatever it was we did."

"Chase, it's not like that. I don't want you to take it the wrong way."

"There's a right way to take this?" He didn't bother to keep the sarcasm from his voice, and Cameron reached out to get his attention. Her grip on his wrist felt strange; Chase tried not to wonder if she could feel his rapid pulse.

"The sooner House realizes that he actually isn't jealous of me, the sooner he moves on, which is better for all of us. I shouldn't have tried to make a relationship out of it in the first place. Wilson even warned me, but I didn't care." She took a deep breath. "I should have told you before I did anything, but I didn't get the chance to."

"Wait, so let me get this straight. You're going to make him not jealous of you by making him jealous of you, and you think you'll do this by using me?" He wanted to stay angry, but she was looking at him too intently, and Chase could feel that he was starting to slide from his superficial anger to hurt. She got up and started pacing, a nervous habit of hers that he knew.

"I wasn't using you—" she started.

"You were trying to manipulate House by pretending that we're together," he stated bluntly.

"Am I really pretending? Are you pretending?" The moment the words left her mouth, Cameron stopped pacing, turning around to stare at him, looking almost as surprised as he felt.

Chase opened his mouth to deny it, not even sure what he was trying to deny, but nothing came out. The words hung between them. He hadn't even meant what he said; he knew that Cameron wasn't the kind of person to manipulate anyone.

"Chase…if I kissed you right now, right here, would it prove to you anything at all?" she whispered, coming close to him.

"And then what happens, Allison?"

"Does it matter? I don't know where this is going any more than you do, but if there's a chance, maybe it is right."

He was drawn inexorably closer to her, and she didn't give him a chance to reply. Cameron kissed him softly, gently. A tongue swept across his lips not to demand entrance, but to taste, to try. Chase almost shivered at the tender caress, so unlike any other kiss he'd exchanged, almost as if the promise in her words translated to action. He opened his mouth, his hand coming up to her neck, and Cameron murmured some noise in appreciation as their tongues met. It was more complicated than lust or love; it defied friendship and otherwise, but combined all of it into a quiet intensity that was intoxicating.

As quickly and unexpectedly as it had begun, the kiss ended. Chase breathed roughly, forgetting, for a moment, where he was. It was some consolation to see that Cameron was not unaffected, but she wasn't looking at him.

Chase followed her gaze to the person who had opened the door, which was not Foreman as he had assumed, but House, and then turned back to Cameron. His hands gripped her shoulders and he shook her, hard.

"You knew he was there," he accused her incredulously. "You kissed me, knowing that he was there."

"It doesn't matter, Chase! What he and I had, it's over." She tried to hold onto him in vain.

"And you had to show him, because somehow telling him wouldn't be enough? Let me ask you something. Are you using me to get back at House for some reason?"

For a moment her face looked stricken, but as Chase watched, realization flooded her eyes, along with the barest shadow of guilt. It was all he needed to see. Chase turned to go.

"Chase—just listen—"

"If you want him so much, go back to him," he said tonelessly. He could still taste her, could still feel her lips against his. "Don't involve me."

She started to say something else, following him toward the exit, but Chase firmly shut the door behind him. If he'd looked back, he would have seen a devastated Cameron through the clear, revealing glass. But Chase simply left. It was too much.

xxxxx

"The million dollar question: was that kiss for my benefit for not?" House asked Cameron, voice a little gentler than usual. She'd taken a seat at the table, head in her hands and clearly ignoring him, but House wasn't one to give up easily. He slid a manila folder across the table to her, which she didn't even look at.

"It didn't have anything to do with you," Cameron said at last without moving. Her voice was slightly muffled, but House was relieved to hear it. She wasn't crying, at least going by sound alone.

"I think I heard my name in there. You know, the part when Chase asked you whether you were using him to 'get back at House.' Unless I misheard, and he meant that you guys somehow need to get back a house you somehow lost."

"House, can't you just go away?"

"What, you had time to run in front of a truck for me, but you can't spare two seconds to talk to me?" His flippancy didn't quite cover the underlying concern.

"No, I can't," she answered shortly.

"Fine, I still have a gift for you." He reached out and pushed the manila folder even closer to her. "It's Chase's file."

"What?" Cameron looked up, revealing slightly red eyes, opened wide in moral outrage. "You stole his personal file?"

"No stealing needed," House reminded her. "There're some interesting things in it. If you read it, maybe you'll understand where he's coming from better..."

"I'm not going to read it, are you kidding me?" she exclaimed.

"He doesn't need to know you utterly invaded his privacy and fell off your ethical high chair," House pointed out calmly. "Take it or leave it. Everything's a copy, anyway."

"I'll just put it all through the shredder," she said, an edge to her voice. "I can't believe you would do this to him."

"Moi? I'm totally innocent in this, remember. You just found the file sitting on the table and took it, thinking that it was some misplaced patient history." House tapped his cane on the folder.

"Right, because it's labeled ROBERT CHASE, Jr."

"Reading it already, I see. Just try not to put my intensivist through the shredder. He's admittedly useful for keeping people alive until we finish trying all the cool new treatments." House whispered the last part as if he were confiding a great secret. He left before Cameron could say more.

She took the file and put it with the rest of her notes, then grabbed her things, making her way to the parking lot. She was at her customary parking spot before she realized that her car was still at the auto shop being fixed. With a sigh, she pulled out her cell phone and began mentally going through her friends numbers, trying to think who would be free to give her a ride back.

Slow footsteps approached her from behind and she looked to see the last person she would have expected. Cameron thought that Chase had left already, but evidently he hadn't. He looked a little worse for wear, but then again, so did she.

"You need a ride, right?" He shook the keys in his hand and she followed him to his car, the desire to get home and think about what all happened (and maybe cry over it, a little) warring with the hurt from knowing that she'd changed things between them, and they couldn't go back.

Chase held the car door open for her and she got in, wondering if she could explain and if he was ready to hear her out. "Chase?"

"Don't," he said, and that was it. The ride back was silent, without even the reprieve of the radio, and she could almost swear that she could hear his breathing. Cameron wondered if he'd left before he'd remembered about her car, wondered if he came back, or if he'd been sitting alone or something.

He dropped her off and left, but at least not before they'd exchanged goodbyes. She just wished it didn't have such a final note to it.

xxxxx

A/N: Over the last six months, I had exactly two chances to see House. During the first chance, former President Ford passed away, so they stopped to do special news reports. During the second chance, I watched House for about ten minutes before my TV lost reception (how?!) and blanked the screen. Forty minutes later, it decided to come back to life just in time for me to see Chase and Cameron get caught making out in a storage closet. I think there have to be forces working against the completion (or even progression) of this story or something.

Anyway, please review. If you'd like another take on CC, check out my new one-shot, Synthesis. I don't know, I'm just so discouraged for this story, even though I've outlined the whole thing and have a lot roughly written out (and there's 8 chapters left, so I'm at the halfway point). Does anyone want to read this, now that you can get your Chase and Cameron fix straight off the new House episodes? Is this chapter as crappy as I thought it was when I was writing it? Is this story even worth continuing? Okay, yeah, I'm writing questions to myself. I'll shut up now. To all the people who've read and reviewed so far, I really thank you.