Chase was about to log out at the reception when he heard the familiar tapping of a cane approaching from behind.
A little too eagerly, he scribbled his signature onto the form, handing back the clipboard to the nurse.
"I'm not playing, House."
"How would you feel if I drink myself into a coma or knock myself out senseless because you refused to cooperate?"
"You've survived worse. Pushing a knife into a socket, for example."
"You think that might help?"
Chase buttoned his coat and headed for the door, mentally preparing himself to outrun House if he had to. "It might help if you'd figure out what she wants from you."
"I'm getting the idea she's not very fond of you."
Chase kept on walking. "It's not gonna work, House. Dragging me into your craziness won't make me change my mind. I'm out of here."
"So you're basically saying you don't give a crap."
Amber shook her head in a disapproving manner and pursed her lips. "Pressuring him with self-pity? How pathetic."
Maybe it was, but he wasn't in the mood to be cautious.
"How about having a drink? Come on, Chase. You've been waiting for this to happen."
He could see the hesitation as well as the tell-tale glance towards the emergency room. "Just one drink then."
"He's thrilled" Amber noticed. "Is it because you invite him for a drink, or because he is doing something that she mustn't know?"
"I'm guessing both."
"Talking to yourself again?" Chase asked.
"It's Amber."
"Oh, right."
oOo
The bar Chase had chosen was quiet and reminded House of a pub. They settled for a booth close to the entrance. When the waiter approached them, Chase ordered two beers.
"Ginger Ale for the Lady?" he suggested, dead-pan.
"How witty", Amber said.
House took the opportunity to eye Chase closely. He looked different; grown up almost, and somewhat bolder, too. The hair was longer, his clothing less formal than it used to be. The hideous ties were gone as well as the smooth façade of the young doctor he'd been working with.
At the hospital, he usually wore scrubs. Now, he was sporting a sweater over a black T-Shirt and tattered jeans, and his scruffy appearance easily competed with House's.
They barely spoke until the drinks arrived. Chase ordered a sandwich.
"Why doesn't she like me?" he picked up on their conversation, taking a large swig of beer. "It's not like she's shown a lot of interest in the past."
Meaning that he, House, was indifferent to what was going on in his ex-employees life. "She keeps calling you a wuss."
"Why?"
"You're about to rush into a marriage that neither of you can handle. And because your clothes smell of fabric softener."
"Amber doesn't know a thing about Cameron and me."
"It's enough to keep her busy."
"She's obviously a keen observer."
"She also loves to gossip."
Chase sighed. "Gossip doesn't seem the problem here. It's more than that, otherwise you wouldn't be bothered to pay me a drink. She's a part of you; a part that you no longer have control of, and it's bugging the hell out of you."
"Uh oh", Amber said. "Given he told you he had no proper psychological training, he comes across rather acurate, doesn't he?"
House snorted, ignoring her with wild determination. "I don't care what it is. I want her gone."
Chase leaned back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest in an almost defensive manner. "You've been keeping up to date on us, haven't you? Now why would you do that? You couldn't care less about me and Cameron, but you love messing with people's heads, and that's exactly why she won't shut up. Getting rid of Amber is delusional, House. She's not some alien intruder. She's some weird representation of your subconscious mind, and there's no way to make her stop unless you're facing the facts. – This is madness", he added, shaking his head and reaching for his drink. "I shouldn't have come here in the first place, telling you what you figured out already."
For the span of a moment, there was an awkward silence, except for the subdued noise of the guests around them. Then, Chase asked: "Why her? You never liked her."
"If he was in my place, I'd be thrilled", Amber commented, "which brings us back to my brilliant scheme."
"I don't want to hear it", House snapped.
Chase stared blankly at him, then decided to excuse him. "Why does she care at all? It is not like we've had an awful lot of discussion about it."
House gave in, strategically. Just a little bit to keep him on edge. "Cameron came to talk to me."
"Oh, right", Amber said cheerfully and snapped her fingers. "You convinced her to clean out a drawer for him. That was such a romantic gesture, wasn't it? I mean, come on, what more could a future husband wish for?"
Chase eyed him suspiciously. "She says she's dealing with you on a professional basis."
"Her sky blue shiny eyes and her rosy cheeks say otherwise."
"Now that was a daring move," Amber pointed out. "You're so going to piss him off."
Chase's next question proved her right. The tone of his voice was more than a little bit chary. "What exactly is going on between you and Cameron?"
"You better sort this out with your fiancée."
"Great idea." Amber nodded approvingly. "It's about time to stir him a little. Unconditional love? Only in his dreams."
Chase' fingers clutched at the glass. His knuckles turned white. "She asked me to stay away from you."
Not exactly newsflash. "Yeah, figures."
"Cameron has proven to be right more than once when it comes to you."
"Cameron also believes you're manipulative and a hopeless romantic."
"She wants to marry me."
"Because you were persistent enough. At some point you must have convinced her that it may be worth a try. Or maybe she grew tired of finding excuses. Do you have an incurable disease up your sleeve, just in case?"
"Very good," Amber cheered on, triumph on her face. "Show no mercy. Only two more weeks left for him to make up his mind."
"This is bullshit," Chase said, apparently running out of arguments.
"I didn't drag you to a bar to throw paternal advice at you in terms of your marriage. It's me who's stuck with a problem, not you. We both know you wouldn't listen to me, and I don't care anyway."
"Yeah, I can see you don't", Chase sneered, collecting his bag from the floor. He would be out of here within the next minute, leaving him with the bill and a yet to be served sandwich.
Damn.
He hated chicken sandwich.
Amber looked at him with her elbows propped up on the table. "Ask him. He's leaving anyway."
And so he did. "Do you really think marrying her will make your life happy and fulfilled?"
Chase darted his eyes at him, tentatively reaching for his jacket, but refused to respond.
"Use your head, man up, and tell me if I'm wrong."
Amber's gaze followed Chase as he practically stomped through the door and into the streets. "That was cruel. Well done. Now he's seriously pissed."
Same here, House thought. "What the fuck is his marriage to me? Why would you keep bringing it up? He could marry a sheep for all I care."
"You do care." Amber presented an eerie smile. "We care."
The waiter arrived with Chase's sandwich.
As expected, it offered a taste of sawdust and wet cotton rags.
oOo
It was one of their evenings in.
It didn't happen often enough, and he enjoyed having dinner with her.
They sat on the sofa and watched a movie on DVD.
Sometimes they would watch the news; sometimes she would turn on the stereo, listening to some quirky Blues recordings while shifting through paper work, her spectacles sitting on the bridge of her nose.
He would prepare something to eat in the kitchen (because she wasn't too keen on cooking), settling down next to her with a good read, watching her over the top of the pages from time to time. He noticed that they weren't talking a lot. They would discuss the food, the film they've just watched, or simply talked about their work. And the wedding preparations, of course. They never talked about themselves.
His conversation with House had upset him more than he wanted to admit to himself. He tried to ban their conversation out of his mind, and yet he couldn't. Couldn't shake off the notion that something was about to go terribly wrong. Just to consider that House, in the shape of Amber, knew more about Cameron than he did, drove him into a barely controllable frenzy.
Unaware of his brooding mood, she pecked on a few sweet peas in the fried noodles.
No longer able to hold back, but instantly wishing he'd swallowed his tongue instead, he finally broke the silence.
"You're absolutely sure you want to marry me?"
She was frowning for a second before looking at him. "We already had this conversation."
"I mean, it's a big deal. It's a life-long commitment. I don't want you do this if you're not certain."
"I am." She didn't smile. "I had doubts, but they're gone. I love you."
Her tone of voice was the same when she would admonish him to wear a scarf because it was cold outside.
He fell silent again. If he pressed any further, he would hurt her feelings. Maybe even provoke a fight.
He wanted no quarrel with her because in the end, it would make him feel guilty.
"Have you seen House?" she asked. Distraction when there was none.
"He looks like death warmed up."
"Someone should deal with this."
"What about Wilson?"
Cameron shrugged. "You were the one House decided to confide to, not me. Your turn to tell Wilson. Oh, while we're at it, Wilson proposed to arrange a bachelor party for you. Nothing spectacular, but he would love to do it. Since your friend won't be able to attend, I fancied you might want to invite some of your colleagues from surgery."
"Sounds great." He meant it. He hadn't even thought about a bachelor party.
"It's settled then. I'll talk to Wilson first thing in the morning. Who are you going to invite?" She looked at him, her eyebrows cocked. "Foreman, of course. And Taub. Anybody else?"
She gave him a slight pat on the arm when he, only half in jest, suggested his boss.
"He'd fire you if he sees you drunk."
"I'm never drunk."
"You're a bad liar."
He curled a lock of her hair around his finger, happy to pull her leg a little. "Contrary to popular opinion, booze is not exactly my forte. Trust me."
"I'll be happy if your Australian friends are just as civilized as you are, Robert Chase."
"Except for Jerry, nobody's coming."
"Jerry", she muttered. "Why do I keep forgetting his name?"
Later, she snuggled up into his arm.
They watched the movie, and by the times the news came on, she was sound asleep.
He was glad that they had avoided talking about House again.
