Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters and/or situations are not my own. I repeat: I do not own anything.

Chase paced back and forth in his coworker's apartment, watching as she drained the mass they had discovered in the arm of her friend.

The situation he'd found himself in was not one he had imagined when he'd received her call earlier that night. No, definitely not, he thought to himself. He had willingly stayed to help Thirteen despite the severe repercussions they would both face if they were caught or if, God forbid, something went wrong. He hated feeling so out of control, unable to convince her to take her friend, Darrien, to the hospital to be properly treated, yet unable to walk away from helping them.

"Try moving your fingers again," drifted the other doctor's soft voice from her position by the couch."Good, that means it's almost drained."

As though Thirteen's words meant everything had been fixed, he heard Darrien let out a sigh of relief.

"Not good enough," Chase said, sitting down on the leather chair across from the couch. "We don't know if it's going to come back. We don't even know what it is. Drugs, viruses, toxins from that crack house and God knows where else she's been," he contended as he slipped on his gloves. Exasperated with how easily they had been placated, he made no effort to hide his distaste with the situation.

"If this were caused by the drugs she'd have kidney failure, cardiac involvement—"

"What about her hep-C?" he said, cutting off the last of her sentence. Chase didn't need to hear Thirteen list more of what Darrien was not exhibiting. He knew perfectly well what symptoms to look for. Getting up from his seat, he continued on. "Could have fried her liver… loses its synthetic function," he explained.

"Then her entire body would be swelling not just her arm," she countered easily.

"That leaves us with toxins," he said, more to himself than to her.

Chase wasn't looking forward to traipsing through a hazardous place, nobody would, but he knew if they wanted to save Darrien then there weren't a great deal of options left open to them.

"Where exactly were you when you were attacked?" he asked in as a relaxed tone as he could manage, hoping it would make her more open to divulging her previous whereabouts.

"You're not doing a home-search in a crack den. That's insane," Thirteen cut in. Her voice had come out like that of a mother reprimanding her child for being reckless and stupid. He didn't like it.

"Apparently we don't have much of a choice," Chase said, his tone betraying how much of his patience had already waned. He didn't want to spend the limited time they had arguing. There were matters of greater importance for them to focus on.

"It's a crime scene!" she exclaimed, her tone harsh. "And it's not toxins, or viruses, or anything else you mentioned because it's not a coincidence. Her symptoms have to be related to the stabbing." Her frustration with him was becoming more and more evident. A small part of him was glad to note that he was no longer the only one becoming aggravated over the whole ordeal.

And now we're back to where we started, Chase thought as he got up from his position at her side. As much as he hated not knowing what to do, he knew Thirteen was right. How many times had they ruled out multiple causes because it wasn't statistically likely? He knew better than to ignore pieces of the puzzle just to make his job easier, and it was why he didn't argue with her any further.

"What if her body used up all the clotting factors dealing with the stab wound?" she asked, her voice back to the calm tone she'd had before.

"Explains the bloody mass, but if you're right she could start bleeding anywhere like in her brain or in her heart," he conceded in a voice equally as calm.

"So one of those things could start growing in my brain?"

Chase had been so immersed in conversation—more like argument—with Thirteen, he had almost forgotten Darrien had been on the couch listening. From the tone of her voice, he could tell she was worried, and he didn't want to take any more chances with her diagnosis, regardless of her wishes.

"It's time to get you to the hospital," he responded.

"Oh no, Remy you promised."

Damn, he thought. Chase did not need her persuading Thirteen to keep her from the hospital. Doesn't she understand how serious this is?

After a few seconds deliberation Thirteen went on. "All we'll do at the hospital is stick her in a patient bed and give her an IV clotting factor. We could do that right here," Thirteen said, meeting his gaze, a move he didn't appreciate as it made disagreeing with her much harder—but not impossible.

"We could also embalm her right here," he added sarcastically. What they could do and what they should do were vastly different.

"I'll call the drugs in and you go pick them up. If I'm right she'll be fine," Thirteen argued back.

The "if" in her sentence did not escape him, and it baffled him that she could gamble with her friend's life so easily—that both women could. Between prison and death, he'd certainly take prison.

"Look, I know you don't know her and you don't care about her, but I do… please."

The last word had come out as barely more than a whisper, and Chase knew he couldn't ignore the pleading her clear green eyes were conveying. Since he rejoined House's team he had come to care deeply for Thirteen, and because she cared so much for her friend there was nothing else left for Chase to do.

"Okay, I'll go pick them up."

AN: I normally don't do author's notes, but I just wanted to clear a few things up. First, I know this was marked as complete, and I hope it's alright to add to it. I had fun exploring Chase's thoughts and it made more sense to connect the scenes in one story than in six. That's the other thing... I'll only be writing out six scenes—I picked out the ones with more room for some Chase/Thirteen—so that means four chapters left. A special thanks to miley-avril for the extra encouragement. Thanks for reading!