Summary: An alternate ending to the shooting in 'No Reason.' Character Death.

Pairings: None.

Category: Angst/Drama

Timeline: Season two. Obviously.

Rated: K+

Tragedy

When the man walked into the office unannounced and without hesitancy, Dr. House barely gave him a parting glance. He was far too focused on his new case. The man with the enormously swollen tongue trumped easily the man with the bad suit and eerily calm voice.

"Which one of you is Dr. House?" The doctor in question replied without thinking, because that's just what he did.

"Skinny brunette."

He turned around only when the man said, "No, that's Dr. Cameron."

"I'm skinny." House pointed out, giving the man in his office a considerable more amount of attention than before. "How did you know her name?"

"I was a patient of yours." Foreman was standing incredibly close to House. Chase and Cameron were still at the table, eyeing this scene with a mixture of unease and impatience. They'd all seen House deal with strangers before and - by and large - it never went too great.

Because House used sarcasm as a crutch when he didn't know what else to do. "Oh, well, if you want to leave the chocolates downstairs-"

A gun became visible from the folds of this unnamed man's jacket. One deafening crack later and their boss was stumbling backwards, propelled from the force of the gunshot, through the whiteboard and against the bookcase. He was on the ground but leaning his head up slightly, staring almost dumbfounded as all his team started to move at once.

It would never be completely clear whether they were acting on the instincts of doctors or - if over the last few years - they'd come to need and respect House so much, that their first instinct was to save him, despite all consequences to themselves.

The gunman saw their movements and halted them long before they had a chance to figure it out. "Stay! Stay away from him." And Chase, Cameron and Foreman froze. A gun being waved in their direction was not something they could easily argue with.

Cameron had her arms crossed over her chest, Foreman's eyes were as wide as Chase had ever seen them and he himself could feel his heartbeat in his throat. Guns were bad. Guns were loud. He wondered what House had done to this man. He wondered who this man was. He wondered what Wilson would say when he found out about this. He wondered if Cuddy would allow House to take time off clinic duty. He wondered what would happen to the swollen-tongue patient if House was too unconconcious to fix him. He wondered why he couldn't think about anything less trivial.

"Shocking, isn't it?" The shooter had sneered down at House, and Chase wondered when he'd turned around. "Who'd wanna hurt you?"

The second gunshot fired and House's eyes closed as his head finally fell backwards. That's when it should have ended, Chase thought, that's when the curtain should have lowered. He could wait to find out what happened next - he didn't want to be a part of it.

Only he was, intricately, a part of it. Because after the second shot was fired the shooter stormed out of the office and Chase felt his adrenalin coursing, his thoughts focusing and his instincts taking over before he had a chance to argue with them.

He was an Intensivist, after all. This was what he was trained to do. This is what he'd been doing his whole life - putting his own emotions on hold in the heat of the moment.

He was beside his bleeding boss before he made up his mind about exactly what it was he was going to do. But that was okay - because he trusted himself more in these moments than he did at any other time in his life.

His hands reached immediately for the wound that was streaming the most blood - the one on his neck -and quickly began applying pressure. Soon he was soaked with blood, and thought absently that House had no blood-transmitted diseases, and that was good. It would make the ER's job a lot easier.

He noticed that Cameron and Foreman were still not moving. Foreman was poised in a half- ready to run position and Chase knew he had to stop the black man before he went bolting out the door after the gunman.

"Foreman!" He all but bellowed. "Call security." He took another look at House. The older man's face was quickly draining of color; his heartbeat under Chase's hand was slowing dramatically. He changed his mind. "Call the ER first. We need a gurney, paddles and an OR. Stat!"

Foreman was already at the phone and Chase knew that part was done at least. "Cameron," he shifted his attention. "I need you over here. Get a towel and help me stop the blood flow."

Cameron nodded, eyes wide and filled with tears. She looked around desperately for some sort of towel, but Chase didn't let his sight dwell on her for too long. He focused on House. Moving his body so he was lying flat on the ground. "C'mon you miserable bastard." He mumbled. "You're not dying yet."

Both Cameron and Chase were by his side moments later. Cameron pressed a pillow to House's stomach and handed Chase something soft and cloth that he immediately placed under his hand and on House's neck. By this time, both his colleagues were kneeling beside him.

"Gurney should be here any second." Foreman mumbled and raised his hand, placing it on the other side of his Boss' neck. "Chase..." the black man sounded almost lost, confused. "There's no heartbeat."

The Australian man felt his own heart clench and he pushed away Foreman's hand with his bloodied one. It took him a second or two to locate the right area, but not long at all to come to the same conclusion.

"Shit." He mumbled. "Shit. Shit. Shit." Cameron was crying and Foreman was starting CPR movements on House's chest.

"Stop!" Cameron shouted. "He's losing too much blood."

"He's not breathing!" Foreman shouted back. "We can get him more blood, we can't get him a new brain if his gets permanently damaged from lack of oxygen!"

And if it was Foreman's harsh tone or the logic he'd put into his argument, Chase didn't know, but soon Cameron backed off and let Foreman finish the compressions.

Chase checked the heartbeat again. "No," he shook his head even as he was prying open one of House's eyelids. "Unresponsive."

Foreman was about to go back to doing CPR when the gurney - fully equipped with an emergency medical team - barged into the office.

Chase was the only one that stayed on the ground with them as they worked. "Too unstable to move." He shouted. "I need a bag."

He went about pumping air into his boss's lungs for some amount of time he just couldn't accurately measure as the other doctors flurried about around him. "We need to get him into surgery!" Chase shouted. He had blood up to his forearms by now, and probably some on his forehead from absently wiping away perspiration.

"No..." One of the gurney men looked at him sadly. "...we can't. He's dead."

"No he's not!" Chase shouted, but even as he did he knew he was wrong. And it wasn't soon before he was leaning back and staring at House's...lifeless...body...

Cameron was sobbing, Foreman had taken a seat on the floor, eyes wide but staring at nothing. Chase just kept his gaze on House. He thought about those sharp, inquisitive, judgmental, at times playful, bright blue eyes. He thought about the limp and the insults, the video games and the soap operas. He thought about House's rat - Steve McQueen and what would happen to him now.

He thought about his own father, and how if he could choose one, House would get up and walk away from this.

Then a cloth was pulled over his body respectively and they'd just began lifting him onto the gurney - to take him down to the morgue - when the door flew open again. Chase and Foreman didn't react at all, Cameron just cried harder.

Wilson and Cuddy were frozen in the doorway. Their eyes darted all over the place, and Chase's vision went slightly out of focus. He didn't want to be here for this.

"What happened?" It was the first time in a long time that Chase had heard a grown man close to tears.

Foreman was silent, Cameron kept sobbing, the ER guys were looking amongst themselves unsurely; so Chase spoke. His tone rang with hollow emptiness.

"...we lost him."

Fin.

A/N: Hey-o! This is the last one of these I had written when I started posting these, so...I'll try to keep writing, but it may be a bit now. Or it may be tomorrow - my muse works in mysterious ways. I want to thank everyone who's been reviewing and encourage those who haven't been to start (I need those reviews like House needs Vicodin) and also, I've been toying with the idea of attempting - maybe - to write a House/Chase slash fic. Gah. I feel kinda wrong just typing that, but I've been reading that pairing and I have to admit, I kinda like it. Anyway, I was just wondering what y'all would think about that. Because if it's a really hated idea, then I won't bother trying. But I am a little curious...and now I think I'm rambling. Just review already:)