House didn't go visit Chase again till the next day. Foreman and Wilson both took care of Cameron, by taking her out to dinner and getting her drunk enough to tell them what was going on lately. Wilson later conveyed all information to House.

Armed with new ammunition he entered Chase's room.

Chase actually looked sick to him today and pitiful. According to the nurses he has tried everything from screaming to begging and even tried bribing the nurses to not give him anything. But none of them listened, and continued to carry out their orders like House ordered.

The blanket had fallen off one side of Chase's body. The gown he was wearing was bunched up around his middle. His hair was sticking up all over the place. His eyes were sunken and the dark circles around them stood out against the pale skin. The pink cheeks showed that he was still running a fever. All in all, he looked like crap.

Using the handicap button, House opened the door with his elbow, being one hand had his cane and the other a cup. He knew that if the roles were reversed he would want to be left alone. But this now had nothing to do with that Chase wanted.

As that thought entered his head he paused for a moment. How ironic was it that while Chase was sick and being a pain in the ass mostly because he wanted to do things his way. Yet, they were still tying him down and making him do what they wanted him to do.

Setting the cup down, and looking at the monitors, House decided that at the moment he didn't care. He would keep that thought along with the others he had in regards to Chase's well being close to his chest at the moment, only to be used if need be.

Using his cane he poked Chase in the side. "Wake up." House said gruffly. It looked as if Chase's mouth moved to say something but no sound came out. It seemed like Chase had screamed himself hoarse. "Figured you would do something like that." House used a spoon and spooned some of the liquid out of the cup and to Chase's lips.

In pure stubbornness, Chase kept his lips closed and turned his head away. "I see we are doing the whole stubborn two year old thing." House put the spoon back in the cup. "Be that way. If you're throat hurts too much you won't be able to speak and interrupt what I have to say.

To answer House, Chase closed his eyes. "Sleeping isn't going to make me go away." House turned to make sure the door was closed and the blinds were too. He didn't want anyone to hear what he was going to say. He had a reputation and all.

"I know keeping you here, against your will, is going against everything you want. What you want is for us to let you out, give you some clothes, your car, and a few hundred dollars and the freedom to do what ever you want." House paused, looking at Chase. The boy seemed to be faking sleep. The drugs should have worn off by this point. He saw an eye twitch that showed that the boy was still listening. He knew Chase was a bad liar. "But that's not going to help. First off, you are sick with an upper respiratory infection." To illustrate the point, Chase couldn't help the cough. "Even if the car accident didn't happen we wouldn't allow you to be without antibiotics. Think of it as a doctor."

Chase still kept his eyes closed. "I'm almost curious to know who your more angry at. Me, for suggesting and agreeing to the surgery? Allison for not arguing against it? Cuddy for allowing it to go on without your consent? Wilson, for not trying to stop me? Foreman for being the one to suggest it? The surgeon for actually performing the surgery? The nurses who missed the infected cut on your leg? Or yourself for being in that position to begin with?"

Again House paused to view Chase's reaction. He saw the tear come out of the corner of Chase's eye. Good. His plan was working. Sort of. "I'll let you think about that for a while. I'll come by later." With that House walked out of the room.

Chase refused to open his eyes when he heard the door close. He couldn't, didn't want to face what was just said. Damn House. How did he know what he was thinking? The man had no right. If he wanted to be angry at the world he had the right. Chase coughed again. He felt like crap. He knew that he was sick. And yes, he should be on antibiotics, but that didn't mean he had to like it. And yes, the infection could turn into pneumonia, and he had enough to deal with at the moment, but why did he have to do things that were good for him?

His life was over. His fiancé didn't want anything to do with him. He had no job. He was just offered a promotion. He couldn't teach and demonstrate procedures and follow med students around a hospital at this point. He couldn't even do his old job now. No running into rooms for codes and the such. He was useless. He should just stop existing. With that thought, Chase coughed a few more times, and fell back asleep.