a/n: This chapter is considerably longer than the other two. Enjoy!

------------------------------------------------

Chase peered through the glass to see Cuddy wave him in while she was having an intense discussion on the phone. He opened the door and mouthed that he could come back, but she shook her head and gestured him in again.

The door closed behind him and he waited patiently in front of it until she was finished. His eyes shifted around the room, for he didn't want to give the impression he was listening to the conversation. He felt deep sympathy for the person getting the tongue lashing on the other end. No one should have to incur Cuddy's wrath. Sadly, he suspected that was exactly why he was there.

A minute later she slammed the phone receiver down. She looked up at Chase, noticing his uncomfortable position by the door. "Please, have a seat."

Chase sat down and adjusted his green and pink striped tie. The colorful artifact from his wardrobe wasn't going save him from Cuddy's prickly mood.

"What the hell is this?" Cuddy asked, opening up the file he had sent her.

Here it comes. "I know it's not conventional, but this is House we're dealing with."

"You're keeping him on Vicodin?"

"A reasonable amount of Vicodin, for the time being. The goal is to slowly wean him off of it and onto something safer. We already know his disastrous results with detox."

"He fails in detox because he won't stick to a long term plan."

"Him and eighty percent of other habitual drug users. New studies are coming out all the time showing that out of control cravings for drugs or alcohol are caused by out of balance neurotransmitters to the brain. His problem is physical, not psychological."

"Those studies are still inconclusive. They are still a long way from determining how or why that happens, and how to treat it."

Chase shifted his position in his seat, leaning backward and relaxing a bit more to come across as less defensive. Luckily he had already worked on how he was going to justify his thinking. Cuddy was not going to be the first to grill him about this. "There are new experimental treatments all the time. This is the type of stuff House would go for."

Cuddy's elbows dropped to the desk and she swiped her forehead with her hand. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "In the meantime, House goes to pretrial over abusing opiates. If he doesn't get clean, the mandatory drug test will show it. I would think you of all people wouldn't want to see his career end."

"As long as the Vicodin shows on his test at reasonable levels, I can easily prove the need, especially when it's coupled with a full spectrum of other pain management options."

Cuddy glanced at the file again, skimming through the keywords of the proposed plan. "Physical therapy, brain stimulation, acupuncture? Are you serious?"

"Very."

Cuddy took in a deep sigh. She questioned why she ever agreed to this. "I should have guessed that in the end he would find a way to get what he wants."

"What he wants is to keep drugging himself until there is no more pain. I won't allow that. However, his body has built up too much of a tolerance for Vicodin. That must be treated along with the pain issues." Before Chase could finish his polished defense, his pager went off. He grabbed it from his belt clip, checked the message, and put in back.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" Cuddy asked.

"It's House. He's says he's dying. I've been getting those every fifteen minutes."

Cuddy cracked a small smile, then hid it. She knew that House tactic all too well. "He won't go for this."

"Maybe not. I think it makes more sense than any other option he's been given."

She nodded, agreeing with that point. "Do you think he'll stick with it?"

"He'll give it a couple of days, just to prove to me it won't work. Then he'll start berating me until I give him back the amount of pills he wants while not following through with his options."

Cuddy's face sank a little, for she couldn't argue with that point either. "So what will you do when that happens?"

"Nothing."

Her expression turned livid. "Nothing?!"

"He's a grown man, capable of making his own decisions. I'm not the babysitter, or the enforcer. I'm there to make recommendations."

"You're willing to let him hang himself?"

"It's my experience that you can't change people."

Cuddy was at a loss, stammering to respond. Sure, House was stubborn, but he couldn't be left to his own devices. "He's going to come running back to me you know."

"Probably. It's your decision as to how you handle it."

"Chase, what we do with him is very important. He saves lives."

Chase sat straight up and leaned forward, delivering his next words with conviction. "What good is him saving other people's lives when he can't save his own? He doesn't save lives for the greater good. He does it for the puzzle. If that isn't there, he doesn't give a damn whether anyone lives or dies, including himself. We can't always be giving him a puzzle to solve."

"That's why we need to help him."

"Treating him like a child isn't helping. He needs to make his own choices. If he chooses the wrong path, that's his decision. It's not our place to change that."

"So, we just let him make his own choices?"

"Yes."

Cuddy felt an overwhelming surge inside her. She needed more time to absorb what Chase was saying. Letting House self-destruct was something she always tried to avoid. Maybe that was the only option left. "Okay," she replied with a nod. "Thanks for updating me."

Chase respectfully got up and headed out.

"Wait," Cuddy said, stopping him from leaving. "I have one more question for you. Do you think he's an addict?"

Chase's eyes fell to his feet. "I can't answer that."

"Why not?"

"Because that question can't be answered." Chase calmly opened the door and left, leaving Cuddy to ponder what that response really meant.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

"We could have met in my office you know," House said as he entered the room that was the size of the janitor closet. No, a janitor closet was usually bigger than this. "It's cruel to make a cripple come all the way down here."

"Because your office is neutral ground, right?" Chase sharply answered, the thick files in front of him on the desk.

"How'd you even get behind that desk?" House examined the thin crack separating the edge of the desk and the wall.

"How are you feeling today?" Chase asked, ignoring House's attempts at diversion.

"Cranky, unfocused, fatigued, no thanks to you."

Chase opened the file, waiting patiently for House to take a seat. Once he did, Chase scratched the back of his head, preparing himself for the obvious bit of news he was about to deliver. "Look, this is the part where I tell you what you already know and you pretend to listen. Hold all acid wit and insults until the end."

House settled back into his seat, looking uninterested. "You're already starting to sound like Wilson."

Chase flashed him a quick glare, repeating the ground rules with his eyes. "Fine, I'll behave."

Chase looked back down at his notes and continued. "The Vicodin hasn't been doing your body any favors. The amount found in your system would have killed any other human being."

"And you haven't figured out by now I'm no normal human being?"

"That amount would have killed Superman actually." Chase stopped himself and bit his tongue. He was breaking his own rule. "There's one fact I need to get out in the open first. Your pain can never be eliminated. Anything I've come up with will only manage it."

House opened his mouth, ready to fire a snide comment, but Chase's glare stopped him.

"Your test results showed evidence of depressed respiration, mild renal insufficiency and liver toxicity, plus there are the overall health issues caused by the disturbed sleep, constipation, depression, and the other nasty side effects such as loss of sex drive. I'm not even going to mention the worst problem, which is you need this drug to function. Vicodin as a sole source of pain relief is no longer an option."

Chase paused, watching House carefully for any type of reaction before going on. Surprisingly, he was still listening. "The Vicodin use must be scaled back and replaced with other options."

House rolled his eyes, acknowledging that Chase wasn't telling him anything he hadn't heard before. "I know, physical therapy, deep brain stimulation, new derivatives of narcotics. Nerve blockers won't work since the long term pain has already set in, blah blah blah."

"You forgot other alternative options. Acupuncture, chiropractic adjustments, massage therapy, prolotherapy…"

"Injecting cod liver oil into my damaged muscle is not my idea of a rousing good time."

Chase nodded. "Maybe not. You have no ordinary case here though, probably because you've worked hard to make sure nothing about you is ordinary."

House looked disinterested over anything he had to say. He knew they had to go through this little show to satisfy Cuddy, but he didn't have to like it. Or do anything about it.

"Anyway, the pain is only half of your problem," Chase said. "I found a glaring error in your medical history. So far is that no one has acknowledged that you have another serious physical problem."

House sat up, giving Chase his full attention now. He was annoyed by Chase's long pause. "Well, I'm waiting."

"Your brain chemicals are out of balance, causing intense drug cravings and a heightened dependency on pain relievers. Your MRI showed reduced activity in the prefontal cortex."

House nodded. "So rational though can't override impulsive behavior."

"Exactly. Based on some studies done recently regarding brain scans of chemically dependent patients, those that had similar brain scans had a ninety percent chance of relapse after detox. The imbalance is the condition we must treat."

House looked at him with a combination of skepticism and wonder. He had to give him credit, this was an interesting approach. "Cuddy okayed this?"

"It's not her call. Recent studies have shown anti-epilepsy drugs like Vigabatrin to be effective in treating excessive need for substances in the brain. Also, as the Vicodin is reduced, less dopamine in the synapses will help as well. There's a study going on in this hospital right now that experiments with various neurotransmitters to see which is most effective in reducing drug cravings. Give me the word and I'll get you enrolled."

Chase didn't really expect an enthusiastic reaction, but he expected some type of reaction. Even an angry outburst would be welcomed. Instead, House's blank stare left him feeling more uncomfortable than any other response. He wasn't at all sure what was going through his mind right now.

"Any…questions?"

"Nope."

Chase cracked an incredulous smile, realizing what was going on. "You're running through ways in your head as to how to score more drugs."

"Pretty much."

Chase leaned back, trying his best not to let his frustration show, instead pretending to be cavalier. "It's your choice."

House glared at him, trying to guess what he was up to. Chase was always a puzzle he couldn't completely solve. "Reverse psychology?"

"Common sense. I'm not your mother."

"Thank heavens for that. Although, you are prettier."

Chase let a slight laugh slip. He couldn't resist House's jokes, even at his expense. "Just fair warning, I have to submit to the court weekly drug test results. If there are excessive amounts of Vicodin in your system, it shows. I'm trusting you to exercise caution."

"If I go down, so does your precious job."

Chase shrugged. "I can't control that, can I?"

House smiled, showing his approval over that answer. "Okay, we'll try it your way."

Hmm, he said 'try'. I guess that's better than nothing. "Okay, I'll make some referrals. I'm assuming I send people to Cameron for scheduling."

"That would be great."

They shared an awkward moment of silence, both wondering what to do next. "Uh, can I go now?" House asked.

"Sure," Chase said with an uncertain voice, not understanding why House was asking permission.

House nodded, keeping a blank expression on his face, and left without saying a single word.

Chase sighed and dropped his head to the desk in discouragement. He didn't take that silence to be a good sign. An insult would have left him with a better feeling. House was definitely planning something.

-----------------------------

This was not one of his better days. Actually, it was doomed from the start. Rising from a night of restlessness and intense pain was a near impossible task, but he needed relief. It wasn't just the leg. His mind was lost in a deep fog, and his tolerance depleted. Yesterday hadn't been easy, but today was unbearable.

House threw open Cuddy's office door. Despite his angry entrance, Cuddy calmly ignored him.

"You win," he told her, head hung low.

"Win what?"

"You can be my doctor again."

"Aww, what's the matter? Things didn't turn out like you planned? Feeling a little edgy?"

"Go ahead, make fun."

"I shouldn't be making fun. I should be congratulating you for finding a doctor that actually has good solutions for your well being."

House threw his head back in disgust. "Those weren't solutions. Those were options orchestrated by you to finally gain control of me. It isn't working."

"For your information, I had nothing to do with the plan. I even tried to change Chase's mind and it didn't work. I see now that he was right."

"Some doctor. I'm in pain."

"The pain will never go away. How about keeping your appointments? I'm sure a chiropractor, massage therapist, or acupuncturist can work you in. How about relaxation techniques? Have you taken your Vigabatrin?"

"That stuff makes me drowsy and gives me an awful headache, plus it doesn't work fast enough."

"Are you sure that isn't the Vicodin withdrawal? Why don't you go talk with your doctor?"

"He's ignoring my pages."

"Gee House, why could that be? Maybe because he's refusing to deal with a raving lunatic that wants to browbeat him rather than work with him? If you want relief, stop acting like a bully and go work with your doctor like a grownup."

"You knew when you first delivered the ultimatum that treatment wasn't going to work!" The anger inside him jumped on like it was controlled by a light switch. He was getting tired of the intense moods.

"No, you set it in your mind that it wasn't going to work, just like you always have. Your plan backfired this time. You put someone in charge who actually came up with a plan that makes sense and won't cause you an egregious amount of pain. But no, you don't want to do it because it involves stepping in the precious middle ground you so love to avoid."

House and Cuddy stared each other down, before House fired one last look of spite. "I'm wasting my time here." He stormed away.

Cuddy sank into the chair behind her desk and buried her head in her hands. She thought about calling Chase and telling him to fix this, but she fought the urge. Chase was right. House was going to have to accept his consequences.

----------------------------------

"Chase." He turned around, knowing that voice all too well. It was tinged with frantic concern, so he had to know what this was about. Luckily he was in between clinic patients.

"Please, House needs your help," Cameron pleaded.

"I've given him all that he needs to get through this. He won't follow through."

"He tried to do what you asked. He isn't getting what he needs. He threatened the massage therapist with a caning, and he won't show up for physical therapy at all now because his leg hurts too much. Anyone who tries to talk to him is guaranteed a verbal decapitation."

"Why didn't you get Wilson?"

Cameron sighed in frustration. "I did. He told me to get his doctor."

Chase turned away from her and headed for the exam room. "I'm busy. I still have two hours of clinic duty left."

"Can't you just give him some more pills for today? We are working on an important case."

"Can't do that. It's not in his best interest." Chase entered the exam room, but Cameron persistently followed, closing the door behind her.

"You've got to do something."

"No, I don't."

"Either give him some more pills, or I will," she threatened.

Chase whipped around to face her, his eyes piercing with a disbelieving glance. "That's a guaranteed of loss of license, or prosecution. You would never do anything that irresponsible. Besides, he has pills. He just can't take one for another few hours."

"He took them all. He doesn't have any left."

"Then he has a problem. He should have known he would run out."

"We need him. We can't have another-" She stopped herself.

"You mean you can't have him almost maiming another little girl? How is it you don't trust his judgment unless he's high as a kite?"

"You should know that answer better than anyone. Haven't you always said, he needs pills to function?"

"That was before I was the one ordered to do something about it. I did everything I could to make sure he didn't have to go off Vicodin completely. I'm not losing my license either."

"Oh, so you'll only do something if it suits you."

"Don't give me that! I've done nothing the last several days but bend over backwards for his well being. Everyone wants to tell me what to do. You think House would have picked me if he thought I would cave into pressure?"

"That's exactly why he picked you!"

Chase turned away and took in deep breaths to calm his seething temper. He always knew Cameron had little opinion of him, but this was the one time he didn't need to hear it.

"I have patients I need to see, please leave," he told her in a low but stern voice.

"Chase, I'm-"

"Go!"

She took a few cautious steps toward the door and turned back around for one last look, checking for sure that he was okay. The guilt gnawed away at her, but she convinced herself it would be best to give him some time alone. She crept out slowly, shoulders hunched in regret.

A deflated Chase shuffled over to the desk and leaned on it, gripping tightly onto the edge, fighting desperately to gain composure. He reached across and clutched in his hand a jar of cotton balls that sat in front of him. The smooth surface of the glass felt wonderful in his hands, the white fluffy contents giving him something comforting to focus on.

His efforts at soothing proved fruitless though when a burst of anger suddenly surged inside him. He whipped around and pitched the jar in a fury across the room, causing a harsh impact on the opposite wall. A deafening sound erupted when it shattered into several pieces, the metal lid clanging in perfect rhythm on the ground until it settled.

Cameron rushed into the room in a panic, gazing in horror at the mess on the floor in front of her. She glanced over to Chase, who lowered his head, hid his scowl, and quickly walked out the door.

--------------------------------------------------------------

A knock on his front door at that hour wasn't what startled Chase. It was the abrupt, almost frantic nature of the knock. Whoever it was, the visit was urgent.

"Dr. Wilson?" He didn't expect to see him on the other side. He was surprised the man went through the trouble to figure out where he lived.

"You need to know what's going on." Wilson tilted his head toward his car, which was parked in front of the building. Chase made out the tall figure in the passenger seat.

"What's wrong?"

"For him, perfectly nothing. He's feeling no pain."

Chase gave Wilson a bewildered glance. He figured House would find drugs, but it must be really bad if Wilson was bringing him there. Chase went down the stairs toward the car to see what happened. He saw House through the window, his head swerving back and forth, eyes closed. Whatever he was on, he took enough where it rendered him completely incoherent.

Chase opened the door and clasped his hand around House's chin, prying open an eyelid. He saw a large spot of deep blue with little white surrounding it. "He's loaded."

"The large dose of smack might have something to do with that." Wilson said, who was now standing behind him.

Chase's eyes grew wide as he released House, turned to face Wilson and stared at him in stunned disbelief. "Heroin??"

------------------------

a/n: Not much to say other than thanks so much for reading. Did you like?