Disclaimer: Don't own.
A/N: Okay so I'm going to leave out as much medicine as possible from now on, because I'm awful at that. And I was wondering if anyone knows how vegemite is actually stored… I tried to look it up but I couldn't find anything. (You will figure out what I'm talking about in a minute.) (My Google skills suck.) Sorry for the long, long hiatus I was dealing with my own crap and writing a different story called I don't know why, I just do (It's a House/Chase slash so if you don't like it deal... this one probably wont be.) I would like to thank all the people that still checked and commented on this story and asked for more otherwise I would have just let this go… Alright, anyway, I re-read the last three chapters and would like to apologize for the crap-y spelling/grammar… shesh. I'm really embarrassed about that… oh my god I can actually feel myself blush right now eek! So, anyway I promise I'll be better. Okay, I will stop babbling now…
Chase and Cameron were in the lab testing the samples. So far they were all negative.
"So, when did you work in the… bar?" Cameron asked clicking a few button on the computer to pull up the test results: negative.
"Just after I moved here," Chase answered his eyes and attention focused on the screen in front of him.
"When was that?" Cameron inquired trying to casually force as much information out of him as possible.
"Right after med school, I did my internship and residency here," He took a swig of coffee. "What's with all the questions?"
Cameron shrugged and looked innocent, "Just curious."
Chase raised his eyebrows and grabbed a sample bag as he changed the subject off himself, "Where do you think House and Forman are?"
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House was in Chase's bedroom inspecting the underside of his bed. Forman walked in from looking under the sink for bacteria or toxins. He sighed seeing what House was doing. "House, this is pointless. If April-May got sick here, Chase would be too. Let's go,"
"Nope, different people react differently to different things. It may just be a matter of time before Chase starts showing symptoms," House pulled out his pen light and did a sweep of the carpet looking for bugs, dust bunnies, and Chase's diary. (House had a sneaking suspicion that Chase kept one. And he was very interested in reading it, being the "wanting to know everything about everything" type that he was and to him, Chase was the hardest mystery to crack.)
Forman sighed and went into the kitchen to check under the sink (again).
"So…," House trailed off limping into the kitchen after checking the nightstand table and back of Chase's closet, "Why do you think there is so much vegemite?"
"I don't care and I don't want to know," Forman asked still agitated with House.
"How much do you want to bet that he gets it sent here from someone back in England," House taunted in a singsong voice that meant he knew way too much.
"He's Australian. What did you find?" He asked getting up from the floor and throwing House a look, knowing that knowing way too much voice.
In the past months Forman and Chase had become friends. Not terribly close ones, but close enough that he felt a very, very faint need to defend him against House.
"Letter," House said brightly holding up his prize, "in the nightstand from… Marissa." He read off the letter, "She sends him a year's supply every year."
"So?" Forman sighed leaning up against the sink and putting his hands on the counter to support him. Just then a black, white, and gray striped cat jumped onto the counter and nipped at Forman's index finger. He yelped and snatched his hand away from the cat as a small drop of blood accumulated around the bitten area, but there wasn't even enough to trickle down his finger. The cat jumped down and pranced away.
House inspected the cut, "Grow up, wimp." He tossed Forman a bandage and some antiseptic from the first aid kit that was stored above the sink. "The point is that it has been here for a few weeks already judging by the supply, "He motioned to the open cabinet, "and it had to make the trip across the Pacific. Airplanes are bumpy. Cap get lose on the trip bacteria grows inside here April-May eats some and bam, it's like a time bomb."
Forman adjusted the bandage and flexed his finger a few times then reached over and opened the refrigerator. Sure enough there was a half-eaten jar perched on the shelf of the door.
"Let's get this to the lab,"
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"I'm not sure where they are," Cameron answered loading yet another sample into the sample tester.
Just then Forman burst through the door carrying a plastic air-tight bag with a jar of some sort. "Test this," he ordered handing the bag off to Cameron.
"A jar of… vegemite?" She questioned frowning at the label then giving him a "what the hell" look.
Chase's face mirrored Cameron's. "Where did you get that?" he asked recognizing the label.
"We broke into your apartment," House answered for Forman walking in with the potato chips he stole from Wilson on the way to the lab. (Thus the reason he was late.)
Chase gapped at House and then sternly inquired what his face was asking, "What the hell?!"
Forman looked down and sighed. House shrugged and dove his hand into the bag, "We needed to check for toxins and bacteria," he said his mouth full.
"You could have asked me. I would have checked," Chase was flabbergasted, although he was quite aware that he should have expected something like this from his prying boss.
(Cameron secretly wished House had asked her and not Forman she was puzzled by Chase just as much as House was.)
House shrugged again, "You were busy," he said simply.
Chase shot House a dirty look and was about to go off on a personal privacy rant when the computer beeped signally the vegemite test results were in.