Chase was wide awake when Cameron returned from work.

She looked exhausted from a long night's shift, and Chase noticed the prominent lines on her forehead, indicating that she had either been frowning a lot in the last couple of hours, or she was just plain tired. She had been pulling double shifts recently due to shortage of staff. Added to the fact that the date of the wedding was approaching in lightening speed, Chase couldn't help but to feel worried about her. For all he cared, a wedding in Vegas would have been fine with him, but she insisted on the lock, stock and barrel-version, bridesmaids and all.

She took off her coat, carefully put her bag onto the dresser, and greeted him with a fleeting kiss as she walked past him on her way to the kitchen. He heard the distinctive sucking noise of the refrigerator's door being opened, then listened to her rummaging through its content.

"You shouldn't stay up for me. You're on early call tomorrow."

"Fell asleep on the couch", he said. It was only partly a lie. The truth was, he was too upset to go to bed.

House had been visiting him in his home.

House was seeing a dead woman.

House who, under hypnosis, had mentioned Cameron's name. Several times, in fact, if he recalled correctly.

It just felt wrong.

He had no right to drag her into this; or him, for that matter.

Not with the wedding coming up, anyway. Chase wondered whether House knew about his reluctance to invite him. Of course, House would decline (whipped up with some pointed remark to make Chase look stupid for even asking), but still.

"Have you seen House recently?"

He knew she wouldn't admit it too freely. Apparently, she was the only one oblivious to the fact that Foreman kept him up to date with Cameron's frequent visits to the diagnostic department. Chase kept reminding himself that it was purely professional, and that it wasn't that unusual. A large amount of House's weirdest cases had been transmitted from the ER. Yet every time Foreman told him of another patient pressed upon House's team by Cameron, Chase felt like shrinking inside.

He knew it was ridiculous, and that he shouldn't be feeling this strongly about it. He kept calling himself an idiot for being so blatantly jealous. The man wasn't interested in Cameron.

Or was he? It was more or less evident that House could have had her anytime with a single snap of his fingers if he wanted to, but it didn't make matters any easier.

She walked back into the sitting room. A cup of frozen yoghurt in her hand, she leaned against the door frame, pretending to think hard (he knew she remembered exactly every time and occasion when she saw their former boss, but convinced himself to give her the benefit of the doubt. It was healthier for both of them).

"I saw him yesterday. He didn't look too good to me. Wilson told me he has trouble sleeping."

Chase envisioned her sitting with Wilson at the cafeteria, both engaging a lively discussion about House's health over an espresso, Lox Bagels, and a Cesar salad. With a sigh, he reached for the Chardonnay, pouring Cameron a glass. "Kutner's death was a major blow for him."

"Kutner's death was a major shock for pretty much anyone." She kept her gaze on the yoghurt, methodically dipping the spoon in a circular motion around the rim. "It's traumatic even for those who didn't know him as well as House might have."

"Did he seem different to you? Apart from not looking too well, I mean.""

She frowned. "Since when are you interested in House's well-being?"

Now he had sparked her curiosity.

Not good.

She walked up to the sofa, settled down next to him, and took of her sneakers. She had never worn sneakers before she started working in the ER. Chase thought they looked nice on her, but he also loved the neatly pointed slippers she used to wear along with those pretty suits and vests.

"Wilson is concerned", she said, the frown still on her face. "He says House is convinced by the idea that Kutner was murdered."

"He's seeing ghosts."

"That's what I told him."

He realized that she was referring to her conversation with Wilson, assuming that he was being metaphorical.

Chase poured himself another glass. He had been drinking too much since House had left, and he was feeling a little tipsy already. "I mean, he literally sees ghosts. He dropped by earlier this evening. Apparently he's having heated conversations with Amber. - Up here." He circled his index finger close to his temple to emphasize its meaning.

Her eyes widened. "He was here? When? What did he want from you?"

"He asked me to exorcise a ghost."

"This is-…" Cameron trailed off, then looked at him incredulously. "Amber's dead."

"Not for him."

She stared at the half-emptied yoghurt cup in her cupped hands, biting her bottom lip. "Oh, God."

"It's probably nothing," he said, spurred by the urge to reassure her even though he knew it was useless. "He hasn't been sleeping for days. You know what it can do to the human brain. I told him to have Wilson write a prescription."

She still frowned, but didn't look at him this time. "Why is he seeing Amber? It doesn't make sense."

Chase thought it was obvious. "She was a lot like him."

"He couldn't stand her. Foreman told me he's been calling her names, and they definitely were of the less flattering kind."

Chase gave it some thought. It was one thing to be mocked by House because of allegedly professional incompetence, or because one spoke with a funny accent. Another thing was to be referred to as a bitch, which basically described a person's characteristics, and indeed it was never meant in an affectionate way, or simply to challenge. Still, he said: "He does that with practically everyone."

Cameron put down the cup, then drew up her legs and rested her chin on her knees. "We ought to tell Cuddy."

"I don't think it's a good idea. She'll put him on sick leave, and God knows what he'll be up to once he locks himself in his apartment. If he's as unstable as he is now, at least he'll be unstable when there's people around." Chase bit his tongue, cursing silently. Why did he say that? It would make her even more worried about House.

After a long moment of consideration, Cameron turned to face him, the expression in her eyes pleading. "Promise me something."

"Sure."

"Stay away from him. Don't let him make you become a part of this madness. I'm fine with not going to Cuddy, but Wilson should know. I'll talk to him first thing in the morning." She nipped at the wine, her brows slightly furrowed, eyes focused on the empty TV screen. Chase got up and switched on the stereo, hoping that Bach's Goldberg variations would lighten up the mood a little.

She didn't seem to notice. Her mind was still fully occupied with what she's just learned. "Did he tell you what she's doing?"

"She likes popcorn and apparently is an avid fan of Eminem."

Her eyes met his gaze, her expression serious, almost alarmed. "Don't get involved. Whatever he asks you to do, promise me you won't give in. He's got to realize that he needs professional help this time."

Indicating that he, Chase, wasn't a professional. She was right, and her words made perfect sense, yet Chase felt the sting of disappointment at her judgment.

Her hand reached for his, fingers icy still thanks to the frozen plastic cup. "Promise me."

"I promise."

Because really, what choice did he have?


oOo


"He's such an idiot."

"He used to be my favorite hatchet man."

"See what I mean?" Amber threw a slightly bored look to the open door leading to the cafeteria's patio. "He's sitting outside. Hiding from you, I suppose."

House followed her gaze. On one of the tables, he noticed Chase poking listlessly in a bowl of fruit salad with a fork. He was dressed in scrubs, indicating that he was still on call.

When he saw him stepping outside, Chase warily looked around, as if he wanted to make sure that nobody was watching. His lips curled in frustration when House approached him, realizing he could no longer avoid him.

"Forget it. I'm not going to indulge your stunts any more. Find someone else. Get a therapist, but leave me out of this."

"Funny, that's what Wilson said, too." He pulled the seat next to Chase's, ignoring the small noise of disapproval coming from his lips. "By the way, Cameron agrees with him. I don't remember telling your wife-to-be, so I'm guessing you confessed to her as soon as she got home. Did Momma tell you to stay away from the big bad House?"

Amber sighed before joining them at the table. "When wouldn't she?"

"How's Amber?" Chase asked, eyeing him from the side.

"Alive and kicking."

"Sorry to hear about that."

"Today she's wearing Prada. Not as sexy as a lab coat, admittedly, but still, wow."

"Not interested." Chase consulted his watch and pushed back his chair. "Gotta go."

"Is that the voice of reason kicking in? You'll hear that often once you and Dr. Cameron tied the knot."

"His life will become a dreadful bore," Amber predicted, inspecting her fingernails. "Just think of the fun you've had with him. Good times, eh?"

House waved his hand at her, which earned him a suspicious glance from the Aussie. He had to remind himself that this was all in his head. "She was gone for a few hours. Gave me a pretty decent night's rest. Your treatment was effective. The sad thing is, it didn't last. Did you forget something? Like, telling me to wipe her out of my memory?"

Chase did his 'This is where I would roll my eyes at you if I had the guts'-impression. "Hypnosis is not a magical trick, House. If you're experiencing hallucinations, get proper treatment."

Amber snorted contemptuously. "Did he just tell you what a pathetic loser he is?"

House managed to ignore her as expertly as he ignored Chase's uneasiness. "I need to get rid of her. I know you're kind of busy at the moment, but doesn't feeling superior of your ex-boss outweigh the joy of matrimony?"

"Don't make this about Cameron."

"I don't. Unless, of course, it's her who makes you act like a brainless whiner without a backbone."

Hook, line, and sinker. Chase snapped at the bait, chewing on it, tasting it. He put down the tray and sat down again.

House allowed himself the hint of a smirk. Goading him almost always worked. In that regard, he was easy to play.

"So she's still around. Right here, with us?"

"Craving a Martini."

"One single session of hypnosis is not a solution. You'll have to find the cause. Why her? What does she stand for? If you don't figure it out, you'll be fighting symptoms. A decent therapist might work it through with you." Chase shrugged, in that annoying, couldn't-care-less-kind of way that he hadn't had on him until he'd stopped working for House. "Of course, he'll charge you for it."

"I'm not going to have my head examined by some bloody idiot. And pay him."

Amber interfered. "Where's the difference? You think he's an idiot, too."

"The difference is that he is not interested and doesn't make a big deal about it." He said it out loud, earning himself another bemused stare from Chase.

"She won't shut up", House explained.

"You're perfectly right", Chase said and rose from his seat. "I'm not interested, and I have no desire to be the one to put fuel into a fire. Find a doctor."

"You are a doctor!" he shouted after him.

"Not my department." With that, he walked his way across the patio into the cafeteria, making clear that the conversation was over.

"Uh oh", Amber said. "Looks like a clash of interest to me." She pursed her lips. "Damn it, they're not even married yet."

House closed his eyes, concentrating on pushing her back into the depths of his mind.

She didn't budge. Instead, she leaned forward, her cool breath ghosting over his cheek as she spoke.

"Four years of hard training and he's giving you that? What a tragic waste."

"I didn't teach him blind obedience." But deep down, he knew she was not entirely wrong. It did nag on him.

Being rejected was something he would never quite brush off with a shrug, and being rejected by Chase had indeed some bitter taste to it.

"He said no because his girlfriend told him so." She gave a mocking laugh. "He dumped you because she asked him to. Now think of it, how many times did she bring you cases in the last couple of months? Apparently, her own rules don't necessarily apply to her if it serves her purpose."

No. This couldn't be. This was beyond ridiculous. In a few weeks' time, she was going to be Mrs. Chase. There was no way Cameron was still harboring unrequited feelings like a school girl.

"She's not in love with me."

"But the mere possibility is flattering."

"No it's not", he muttered. A hell of a headache was creeping up on him, burning behind his eyes. "You're wrong."

"Maybe." Amber shrugged. "But she wouldn't decline dinner with you either. No surprise he hates you."

"Chase doesn't hate me."

"You don't think he has a reason, or is it because you're thinking he's too lazy to develop that sort of energy?" She snorted in a most unattractive manner. "He's a coward. He doesn't even dare to confront you; or her, for that matter."

"And why should he?"

"Because she's being emotionally unfaithful?" Amber suggested. "She's having doubts. She told you so herself, remember?"

God, she was giving him more than just a headache. He rubbed his face, feeling infinitely annoyed. "This has nothing to do with me."

"Yeah, right", Amber scoffed. "She's coming to you for advice how to dump him, and you're telling me it has nothing to do with you. Seriously? You're not exactly Aunt Agony. You're not stupid, either. A woman always has an agenda. You know that."

Why was it so hard to make her stop? Worse yet, why did he feel the tinge of satisfaction as she spoke? He wasn't in love with Cameron. She wasn't in love with him. She was to marry Chase.

When he opened his eyes again, Amber scorned. "And that makes it official."

"File's closed", House said, fervently hoping to win this futile and ridiculous argument with nothing but sheer determination. "No regrets."

"So it's all over now."

"Ask Cameron."

"We don't have to ask, do we? What's more, we don't want to hear the answer." She shrugged her shoulders and threw a craving glance at the leftover of Chase's fruit salad. "Besides, everybody lies."