Hi, how are you all doing? This chapter was longer to write, as will all the others from now on. I'll probably only be updating ever three to four days.

Anyway, I still don't own House, M.D.!!!

Enjoy.

Chapter Eight

Too Little Too Late (Part 2)

Record and play, after years of endless rewind
Yesterday wasn't half as tough as this time
This time isn't Hell,
Last time, I couldn't tell
This mind wasn't well
Next time, hope I'm...
Going to be good, and I would -
If I knew I was understood
And it'll be great, just wait -
Or is it too little too late?

----

"Hey!" Called a voice, snapping House out from his dream. He'd been dreaming about Voglar, which wasn't really surprising, considering that the big guy had been running through his mind since last night. He was at a complete loss of what to do. So here he was, hiding. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, hissing at the light.

"Sorry… stayed up late. Internet porn, you know…" Forman snorted; "Hiding because Voglar's looking for you. That's pathetic." House frowned. "Pathetic? I just don't like loud angry giants threatening me with violence. How is that pathetic?" He asked, barely hiding his irritation. Chase remained silent, suddenly unusually fascinated by his feet.

House was barely listening to Foreman telling him about their newest patient. House gave them quick instructions for tests, still watching Chase fixedly. The two doctors nodded, Foreman looking at him strangely, but left to do their tests anyway. House sighed; there was nothing to do now he supposed.

That's why when he entered his office, he checked every corner of the room from outside before opening the door. He walked slowly, listening closely as if he would hear a time bomb or something. He wouldn't be surprised if he did. He got to his desk at last and shifted a few papers around, then he turned and gasped; met with Voglar's stony face. The man was standing still as a statue, staring at him with an evil gleam in his eye. House had no idea how he'd gotten there without him noticing, but he didn't much care.

"Whoa-!" He yelled, bounding backwards. Voglar cleared his throat.

"You," He said slowly, "Are going to make a choice." House smirked; "I suppose I'll have made a decision by… say, tomorrow morning? Yeah, that should be enough time –"

"Now. I want a decision right now; otherwise, I expect your letter of resignation on my desk in the hours to come. Now, or I will destroy you." House gulped and thought around furiously. He couldn't choose Foreman, and he'd promised Cameron he wouldn't choose her. That left Chase, and he'd practically begged for him to fire him.

"Chase." He said clearly, holding his breath. Voglar narrowed his eyes, turned around swiftly and left without another word.

That was it? That was it?!

House felt like his jaw would drop. So, Chase was fired… Seconds ago, he'd felt like he didn't care; hell, Chase didn't seem to care if he got fired! But now, he was feeling curiously dreadful. What if… what if Chase would hate him for this?

And why, why did it suddenly matter so much to him what Chase thought about him?

The thought was depressing. This sucked. He rubbed his forehead, and sat at his desk with a slight headache. Popping a vicodin, he threw away the files that were lying on his desk and waited for his ducklings to return.

----

"She might make it to full term. Her contractions are less frequent." Chase explained, pacing around the table while Foreman sat reading the file and House made coffee.

"Nice to see you in the office again," Foreman remarked, "I guess Voglar found you?"

"Yeah! We had a nice little chat. Now, what else?" House stated, making it clear he didn't want to talk about it.

"She choked… Muscle weakness, right?" Cameron told him anxiously.

House frowned and turned, forgetting about the coffee he had been making; "What did the patient choke on?" He questioned, making Foreman scowl. Chase and Cameron looked rather agitated too.

"Her food! Who cares?" Foreman snapped, clearly annoyed at House's lack of interest in the case. House took a step forewards, repeating his question; "What did she choke on? What kind of food?" Foreman frowned even more, if that was even possible; "A piece of pear! We should just concentrate on –"

"She choked on a piece of soft white pear? That's way above swallowing issues –" He stopped talking, looking at Wilson, who had just entered the room in a hurry saying; "We have to talk."

"Ooh… We have to talk!" House repeated childishly, following the oncologist outside. Before, he turned to his team; "Check the patient's eyelids." He heard Foreman titter and say "Her eyelids?!" as he walked out.

"Board meeting tonight…" Wilson began as they walked through the hallway, "Only one thing on the menu: you."

"I know! I'm irresistible!" House grinned, making Wilson groan; "House! Don't be a fool! Voglar is looking for any reason to fire you – he's going to jump on anything you do wrong. I just wanted to warn you." House laughed softly.

"There's no need for that, Voglar isn't going to fire me now, not now that I've made a decision." House told him, grinning again, this time at Wilson's incredulous face. "You what? I mean… okay… who?"

"Chase." House told him with a voice that plainly said 'I don't care'. Wilson stared. "Chase? But… why would you fire Chase?"

"Couldn't fire Foreman – not that I didn't try – and I didn't want to fire Cameron." He answered simply. Wilson shook his head. "That doesn't make sense! I thought you cared more about Chase than… Cameron…" House stopped and Wilson went on a few steps alone before stopping too and backing up.

"I do. I… care about Chase so… I had to fire him." House said, staring into space and walking off, leaving Wilson alone to wonder what the hell he was talking about.

Wilson quickly came to the conclusion that he wouldn't get any answers out of House. So he turned and went to Cuddy's office.

Thankfully, Voglar wasn't there. Only Cuddy, who lifted up her head to see who it was before returning to her paperwork, waiting for him to speak. She noticed how the oncologist was pacing slowly while rubbing his neck, which usually wasn't a good sign. He finally spoke up; "House… fired Chase." Cuddy stopped writing, but continued to stare at her notebook. "Not yet. We'd have heard about it sooner than this." She told him. He sighed and went on, "Yes, which is why I think he probably hasn't told Chase yet. I'm guessing the results won't be pretty."

Cuddy finally looked at him, putting her pen down. "What do you want me to do? Yeah it's sad… Chase doesn't deserve this, but I can't prevent anything from happening now. Voglar told him to fire someone, and he did. I don't have a say in this." Wilson nodded comprehensively, having been expecting Cuddy to say that.

"Right. My next inquiry is why Voglar has scheduled a meeting about House tonight if House has done what he told him to. He doesn't have any reason to fire him now does he?" Cuddy shook her head briefly; "He doesn't really… We'll just have to hope House can keep his head down for a while. At least until we can persuade Voglar that we need him here."

"Well, there's little chance of that." Wilson stated, "But yeah, we don't have a choice. Thanks for your time." He gave her a short nod and walked out.

Halfway down the corridor, he collided into Chase, who was walking with his head bowed; obviously he was coming to see Cuddy. Chase didn't look up, he only murmured some incomprehensible apology and walked around him, keeping his head down. Perplexed, Wilson put a hand on the Australian's shoulder; "Chase… what's wrong?" The blond shook his head, but it gave time for Wilson to see that his eyes were red and watery. "What happened?" He asked him again. Chase started to stammer.

"House – he – he fired me – and he – he – he told me that –" Before he could say anymore, he burst into silent tears. He looked profoundly distressed, but also humiliated at crying. Wilson rubbed his back softly; "What did he say? I know he can be a jerk…" Chase wiped his eyes on his sleeve and took several deep breaths.

"He told me… to get lost. He said – he told me that he never wants to see me again." Chase managed to say through the silent sobs that were making his body shake. Wilson tried to make a comforting face while he controlled the rage that was coming through. How could House do this to Chase? Sure, he had no other choice but to fire him after he told Voglar he'd do it, but there was a difference with firing someone and pointing a flame-thrower at them, no pun intended.

He shook his head and told Chase; "Don't worry about it. House doesn't know how to deal with feelings. Trust me: he likes you, and he will, it'll just take some time for him to –"

"No! He told me! He said that he didn't like me, that he never had!"

"What do you mean?" Wilson asked, with the unpleasant feeling that he knew exactly what House had said. Chase made an angry face; "He said you had been right all along, that he was just teasing me and stuff, taking advantage of me because I was sad about my dad and… and that he just wanted me as far away from him as possible." With that, Chase trembled with quiet sobs again and couldn't talk anymore. Wilson took the form Chase was holding, seeing that it was a resignation paper and did something he would never had done in other circumstances; hugging Chase.

The Australian seemed surprised at the action, but was visibly thankful to be given a shoulder to cry on. Wilson hushed; "Go home, take a nice shower, and go to sleep. I promise I'll work things out. Don't worry." He felt Chase nod.

One last pat on the back and Chase left. Wilson heaved a sigh sadly, and glared at the doctors who had cluttered around the scene, motioning for them to continue on their way.

Once again, he entered Cuddy's office. She looked up and this time gave him her full attention strait away. Before she had the chance to ask what was going on, Wilson explained; "House fired Chase. Just now. And… he also told him he didn't want to see him anymore. From what I understood from Chase's tears, he was rather mean to him."

Cuddy's mouth hung open slightly, her shoulders drooping. "What did you say to him?"

"To Chase? I sent him home and told him to relax… I said I would sort things out." Cuddy scratched the side of her head; "You're aware, I'm sure, that there's nothing we can do." Wilson looked perturbed; "We can tell House to apologize! We can… something!"

"You can try and tell House to apologize, but you won't get him to. Weren't you there when he woke up from his coma? Chase is no different from Stacy, he won't get a second chance. There never are any with House." Cuddy told him quickly, "Chase had to understand that. I'm sorry it had to happen like this but… it did, and… that's life with House. He doesn't forgive – he doesn't forget."

Wilson gawked at her, but he understood. This was really over. He thanked her one last time and went back down to oncology where his patients were waiting for him. There was nothing else left to do now. Except work.

----

Cameron was talking. House barely registered the sound of her voice as he just sat there, looking through the artists on his iPod. Several minutes and many 'House!!''s later, he finally looked up at her.

"What?!" He snapped angrily, "Yeah, great! Go do whatever test you have to do, I just don't care! You're a full-grown doctor right? You don't need me to treat a patient, go do what you have to do!"

She glared at him, and Foreman looked slightly alarmed. "This isn't funny House! Our patient has cancer! We have to make a decision! And –"

"And you have to stop yelling. Do that C-section." He commanded, turning back to his iPod. Yeah, iPod's much more interesting. Cameron scowled; "The patient doesn't want to… We have to convince her. And where's Chase? You'd think he'd be concerned about the patient at least!"

"Chase is fired." House told her; "And didn't you just hear me: do a C-section, do whatever you have to to make her understand." The two doctors stared.

"There is no way in hell you fired Chase!" Cameron shouted, sounding livid, "How could you?" House winced at the loudness of her voice.

"I couldn't fire you, and Voglar said no about sacking Foreman. What other choice did I have?" Foreman scowled; "You wanted to fire me?!"

"Who cares? Chase is fired, but you're both still here! Now do that damn C-section!!" House raged, standing up abruptly, throwing his arms in the air. Cameron's eyes widened and she backed away in alarm.

She glared; "Okay look… The patient doesn't want to have a C-section, or treatment for cancer. She thinks her odds aren't good enough." House tittered; "Go get Wilson; he's the oncologist around here." She and Foreman exchanged annoyed glances and walked off.

House groaned as he slumped back down on his chair; standing up that fast hadn't done any good for his leg or his headache. As if it wasn't bad enough, his stomach growled. Damn it, he'd grown used to eating waffles in the morning, but Chase hadn't been there this morning. He probably wouldn't be there ever again. House knew he shouldn't have shouted like that but he couldn't help it.

He knew Chase had gone to Voglar, no matter how much he'd tried to deny it and plead for forgiveness, House would never forgive him. Because he just knew it was him.

He was tempted to take another vicodin, but he his bottle was almost empty – he barely had enough to last him until tomorrow afternoon – and he didn't think Wilson would be very happy if he came asking for a refill so soon. Besides, he wasn't keen on talking to Wilson at all right now, or anyone else for that matter, because he knew he'd just get nagged at for firing Chase. He hoped Chase had gone home; he wanted least of all to run into him today.

House frowned slightly as he played with his tennis ball. He'd expected Chase to shout back at him, or complain to Cuddy, or at least have some reaction of some sort! But the Australian had simply lain back and let him walk all over him. It just wasn't right. He knew Chase had more backbone than that; maybe he really just didn't care what House did?

His trail of thoughts was interrupted by Wilson, who promptly barged in making the door rattle. Seemed he'd done something about their patient. He unplugged his earphones, mentally prepared for a good commotion.

"Someone didn't get his coffee this morning." House snickered at his friend who reddened in the face, scowling; "Someone," He replied angrily, "needs to read a book on human interaction." At House's bland look, he rearticulated; "You made him cry House!"

"I made Voglar cry? Wow, that deserves something don't you think? A trophy at least –"

"Not Voglar! God, you're annoying!" Wilson rubbed his forehead and walked around the room before leaning on House's desk with both hands. "I sent Chase home, and I had to reassure him that everything would be okay because he was really down. You made him cry, House!" he repeated in conclusion.

"So what," House replied indifferently, "He can go home and cry in his shower alone for all I care: I did what I had to do, it's his own fault if he can't deal with it."

Wilson closed his eyes and breathed, clenching his fists; "He told me everything House. How the hell you fired him and thought the time would be right to break up with him too is complete mystery to me. You can't do that to someone!"

House had an expression appropriate to having been punched in the face. He growled; "I can't be with Chase! I just… it'll never work out! He'll like me for a while, and then one day he'll realize who I am really – just a miserable old cripple. I don't want to wait until that happens; I should never have gotten myself in this mess."

"Don't you think he already knows you're a miserable old cripple? He does, but he likes you anyway: what does that tell you?" House stared at him and said calmly, without even blinking; "That he doesn't love me."

"You just think you don't deserve him! Admit it, you –" Wilson retorted but was cut short by the sound of House's pager. House glanced at it and got up, hissing at the pain; "Gotta go, patient's going into surgery, I have to go look over my duckies."

And Wilson was left standing there, rather perturbed.

----

Voglar sat at the head of the table, fingers interlocked and looking dominantly around the table at the other members of the board. "A man is the sum of his actions," He stated, "Here are some of Gregory House's… He violated a DNR; and was charged with assault," he paused, looking at them dangerously, "He brought a termite into an OR, and spat on a surgeon. He accepted a Corvette from a patient who was a known member of the New Jersey mafia." One of the surgeons sighed.

"Edward, look… Look at anyone's career, you can find things that are –"

"These are the last three months." Voglar interrupted, "He has personally had more complaints filed against him than any department in this hospital." Wilson fought the urge to growl; "Okay… he's screwed up. He's miserable. And he should probably re-read the ethics code. But it works for him; he's saved hundreds of lives."

"He is a drug-addict who flaunts his addiction and refuses to get treatment. He is a disgrace and an embarrassment to this hospital." Voglar shot back stubbornly. "I'd go on, but it gets kinda mean, so… So, all in favor for the immediate dismissal and termination of Dr Gregory House's employment at this hospital?"

A silence followed. Someone let out a nervous cough and slowly, slowly everyone's hands went up one by one, leaving only Cuddy and Wilson. Wilson kept his arm firmly pressed on the tabletop and stared in horror as Cuddy gulped, closed her eyes and lifted hers into the air swiftly. She was looking at Voglar with determination, obviously avoiding the oncologist's gaze.

"Dr Wilson?" Voglar sounded disappointed, but impatient too. "I vote no." Wilson replied decisively. "Then the situation is discharged." Voglar announced, "I'm going to have to ask you to leave the room."

Wilson frowned.

"Well, first of all, you can't avoid my vote by making me stand in the hallway, and second, you have to wait at least one business day before calling another vote." He told the bigger man, as if he didn't know.

"I know, but this vote is one you are conflicted out of."

"Conflicted? How can I be conflicted?" Wilson posed, worried and confused.

"This vote is for the immediate dismissal of Dr James Wilson."

Wilson's gasp never left him, caught in his throat, and he stood up slowly to leave the room, feeling his stomach sink.

----

The following morning, Wilson was packing his stuff when House came barging in, rattling his empty vicodin bottle under his nose and ranting about Voglar dismissing his patient form surgery the day before. He stopped after several seconds of Wilson's lack of response, eyeing the numerous cardboard boxers scattered all over the office; "What are you doing?" He asked, not without suspicion, but still concerned. Wilson continued to throw things in his boxes, glaring.

"I got sacked."

The phrase hit House like a sledgehammer, but instead of being the comforting friend he should have been, he smirked.

"What, d'ya make a pass at Cuddy? I told you: she only has thighs for me!" Wilson shot him a look of disgust.

"I was the only one to not vote for your dismissal. Yes – even your beloved Cuddy didn't protect you. Don't get too exited though, there'll be another vote tonight, and you won't be as lucky." House bowed his head, as Wilson went on irritably; "But anyway, it doesn't matter; I have no kids, my marriage sucks… All that matters to me is my job and this stupid screwed up friendship – yet even you neglect my friendship. I just lost my job… what's left now eh?" He slammed a book into a box, exhaling heavily as he looked at House. He didn't even have the energy to glare any more. "Well… you'll be gone soon, too…" Wilson went on sadly when House failed to say anything.

"I… guess so." He hopelessly said at last, "Nothing's going to make Cuddy say no this time. But… why did you sacrifice your job for me? You only put off the inevitable until later…" Wilson scratched his temple; "I don't know okay. I just couldn't do it. I couldn't lift up my hand and show Voglar I was afraid too."

House nodded absent-mindedly, staring at the boxes laid out over the desk. "Will you ate least check this out?" He asked as he handed his friend a file. Wilson dropped his arms to the side, then took the file and sighed; "I'll make some calls." House nodded in appreciation, waved his hand vaguely as a parting gesture and left his friend to pack.

He went strait to the conference room, where his remaining ducklings were awaiting him impatiently. He was met with their angered voices as he limped in. As if his leg pain wasn't enough – no, they had to impair his hearing, too.

"You're late, again!" Cameron squealed as she pressed a file unto him. He smirked; "I was not late, you bickering idiots, I was with Wilson. He just got sacked." With that he threw the file back onto the table and went to make himself a cup of coffee. At least someone had actually bothered to make some before his arrival today… Yeah, that's the stuff, he thought as he swallowed the liquid and felt the warmth of it flow through his body, relaxing him.

"What's wrong with cancer-lady?" He shot back at Cameron, who was still standing near the table, looking exasperated. Both she and Foreman were silenced by the news of Wilson being fired. She scowled even more at him – was that even possible? – as she snapped; "It's not funny! She's going to die if we don't have a decision soon. Voglar terminated the C-section yesterday, as you know…" She trailed off; hardly needing to remind anyone about the shouting session that had ensued in the lobby yesterday when House had found out Voglar stopped the surgery.

"I'll go talk to her –" House started, but was interrupted by the abundant sounds of three pagers going off. In sync, the three doctors reached into their pockets and stared at each other in horror. They gathered their things and left hurriedly.

House followed them as fast as he could, but they were too fast.

They met the patient's husband in the corridor leading to the OR's. He wasn't allowed to go in obviously. Foreman hung back to talk to him while Cameron went on past the doors. The man was looking frantic; "What's going on?"

"We have to make an intervention – she has some sort of a blood clot. Fairly common with this type of cancer. We can get Naomi to breathe again by removing the clot but we need you to okay the surgery." He told him.

The guy nodded frantically waving his arms around; "Yes, anything. Of course. Anything you have to do, just do it –" Foreman sighed; "It's not that simple. The best course for the baby would be an immediate C-section. The longer we postpone, the greater chance he'll have brain damage from lack of oxygen."

"Fine, whatever just do it!"

"Here's the problem" Foreman sighed again, trying to get him to understand the situation; "A C-section would be very, very dangerous for Naomi. In her current condition, there's a real chance she won't survive." The man looked at him with wide eyes, looking devastated. "I'm sorry." Foreman added. He knew these kinds of situations were hard to deal with, but the silence went on longer than it should have.

"Look, your wife is unconscious; we need you to make a decision." Foreman pressed on, making the other breathe faster and gulp; "I just… want her… to live. No C-section." The husband said at last, looking in pain. Foreman nodded and ran off the the OR.

----

They had just finished sucking out the clot, when House came in. Right on cue, too: the patient's situation was getting stabilized.

Suddenly, the monitors started to beep. House went around the table and lifted the robes; a large dark spot had appeared through the skin of her belly. "She's bleeding into her abdomen. I'll go see the husband… keep her stable for a long as you can."

He went to break the news, pressing; "She had trauma while the surgery. She's bleeding into herself, there's nothing we can do. I'm sorry." He saw the fear and deception grow on the man's face slowly.

"I need you to okay the C-section." House told him, trying not to sound impatient. This was not the time to be mean. "But, that's going to kill her right?" The man asked sadly, and House was pained to reply; "Probably will."

The other started to mutter incomprehensible things under his breath and dropped the cup of water he had been holding. House grasped him by the forearms in a comforting gesture and that's when he noticed Cuddy watching the scene from a few feet away. He tried to concentrate on the man.

"Stay with me Shaun… I need your okay on this." Shaun began to tremble as tears streamed down his cheeks. "I… I can't… I…" He stammered continuously. "I know this is going to be tough from now on, but this decision is easy – You know what she'd want." He spoke over the other man's whines of 'I can't… I can't do it…' and tried to be reassuring. "You make this call, only two things change. Yes; you feel guilty for killing your wife, but you baby lives. Naomi's baby lives."

Shaun stared at him, tears lessening, but still scared. "Okay… okay." House patted his back and went back into the OR, faintly hearing the sobs of the new – hopefully – father increase.

----

House rubbed his eyes, leaving the OR slowly. He wasn't really looking where he was going when he bumped into Cuddy. She was staring at him sadly. "I saw you… with the husband, before the surgery. What happened?" She asked, close to tears. House frowned.

"The woman died… we saved her son." Cuddy nodded.

"I saw you reassuring the father."

"What's your point?"

"You… I've never seen you do that." She told him suddenly. His eyes widened. "I do it all time – it's just who I am." He said with a fake happy voice.

"You fired Chase." She changed subject abruptly.

"I did."

"You mad him cry. Didn't you reassure him?" House blankly returned her stare. At a loss of words, he chose not to speak. She chuckled, but it didn't sound cheerful. "He… he loves you, House!"

"I don't."

"That's not a reason. You should go see him and apologize at least." She snapped at him. He shook his head as he walked away; "What's the point? I'm not going to be here tomorrow anyway. The hospital was the only bond I ever had with him – now it's gone."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm assuming I won't be here anymore by tomorrow." With that, he turned the corner and was gone. Cuddy stood there for a few seconds, then remembered the meeting and strode off.

----

"Same motion as yesterday people, same reasons." Voglar seethed, sitting down. "All those in favor of dismissing Gregory House raise a hand."

Cuddy sat very still, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden. She knew what she was about to do was very bad for business, but she just couldn't do it to House, she wouldn't sit there and watch as Voglar destroyed everything she'd worked so hard for. That is, equality.

Hands went up, faster than they had yesterday, but Cuddy kept her hand to her lips, fidgeting nervously. "Dr Cuddy…" Voglar started dejectedly, "You realize, this is going to happen." She put her arm down at stared back at him. Now or never.

"I can't do it." Voglar bit his lip, bearing a slight frown; "You can't abstain."

"I'm not abstaining: I am voting no." She affirmed. Everyone turned to look at her, shocked.

"You changed your mind since yesterday?" Voglar asked, starting to sound angry, "What did he buy you dinner and roses? Threaten to drown your dog?"

"He did his job." She threw at him, but before he could say anything, she went on; "And I haven't changed my mind: I've made up my mind." Voglar made a confused face. "House did his job." She repeated, "He is valuable to this hospital, and I support him unconditionally. I've finally decided to speak up. We all have a say in this. If you all think that House deserves to go – that Wilson deserved to go, that I deserve to go – then go ahead and vote yes. But I'm making a choice. If you're voting yes because you're afraid of losing his money, then he's got what he wanted – he owns you." She stood up.

"You have a choice too, probably the last one you'll have here." And she walked out, leaving everyone with perplexed expressions.

----

"Cuddy: the man of the hour!" House exclaimed as said woman entered the room.

"Hey… what are you doing?" She inquired as she came in his office, smiling. "We're drinking; I'd have thought that was pretty obvious." He stated and she chuckled; "Well, hears to you, the great champion – saved us all from Voglar." She looked around at House, Wilson, Cameron and Foreman and downed the glass of wine House had handed her in no more than eight quick gulps. Everyone stared. "Except Chase of course." She added, making all their smiles falter.

"Thank you, miss buzz kill." House told her. She smirked.

"None of us would ever have needed saving if you could actually hold a relationship with another human being." She added, placing her glass on the desk. "It was partly why Voglar had to go. I think Chase is the one who least deserved to get sacked. You are going to see him – personally see him – to tell him he is getting his job back." House scowled.

"Keep in mind that you only cost us about one hundred million dollars." She pressed further, making him wrinkle his nose. "You should be mourning. I know I am." And she walked away.

"Wow, nice end to the party." House muttered, drinking from his glass. Cameron sighed; "I think she's right House. You were awful to Chase. Go make up with him."

"Yeah, hoping sex with Chase is actually worth one hundred million dollars." Foreman laughed.

"Shut up Foreman." House snapped, drinking down his own wine hastily, and shooing them all outside his office. "Party's over, go have a threesome or something." He told them irritably. As soon as they had left, he leaned against the door of his office and groaned. What a pain.

Well, he probably had to make sure Chase wasn't drowning in his shower or something. Growling at the searing pain in his leg, he began to walk down the near-empty hallway. He suddenly remembered Wilson had not refilled his Vicodin. Crap. Now he'd have to go see Chase with this searing, throbbing ache in his leg.

Just great.