Chapter 34 – Of Aspirations and Trespassing

"You've got a college interview on Thursday."

I looked up at House, eyes widening. We were sitting in the PPTH cafeteria. House with half of an egg salad sandwich he stole from Wilson, me with a plate of fries that was slowly being sacrificed to the fathomless pit of House's stomach.

"Uh... come again?"

"At Princeton. Pre-med admissions advisor." He slid a folder across the table. "There's everything you need to know. It's a two-in-one; you're interviewing for a place in the program, and a full-ride scholarship you applied for in January."

I blinked. "I didn't apply for a scholarship."

"As far as they're concerned, you did."

"House..." I started flipping through the folder. There was an essay and personal statement contained within, my fake transcripts House had drummed up, summaries of extracurriculars that I definitely never participated in (at least not in this universe), paperwork for something called the James D. Smitty Scholarship Fund, and a slew of the other necessary documents for potential enrollment. "Did you do all of this?"

House shrugged. "I was bored, and I figure pre-med is the best way to beat the youthful optimism out of you."

"Did you write this essay?"

"Eh. I asked Cameron if she still had a copy of hers lying around. I paraphrased, added some bits. The whole 'dead mom' thing is the real kicker. She went to Michigan, so it's not like the pre-med committee at Princeton will notice."

I shook my head. "I don't have the money to pay for medical school. I want to go, but I'll have to save for years–"

"Did you miss the 'full-ride' scholarship part?"

"There's no way I'll get it. A year in cyber school? That's suicide on a college application."

"If it was suicide, you never would've gotten the interview in the first place. Plus, if you flip through a little..." He inclined his head, indicating that I should do so. Tucked in the very back of the folder were three letters of recommendation.

One written by House, one written by Wilson, and one written by Cuddy.

Seemingly.

"So, did you forge both of their signatures, or did you actually con Wilson into writing a recc for me?"

"Wilson was more than happy. And what Cuddy doesn't know won't hurt her. On top of all of that, I've got a few friends over at the college."

"You mean people who owe you favors?"

"Big favors."

I just watched him, somewhere between stunned and unthinkably grateful. I wanted to be a doctor; it had been my goal for as long as I remembered, but once I faced the true reality of being thrown into another universe, I began to seriously wonder if it was a dream I would every be able to realize.

And here House was, practically serving me up my future on a silver platter. Why had he gone to such lengths for me? Why go out of his way like this? What difference did it make to him whether I went to school or not?

"Stop looking at me like that," House ordered.

"Like what?"

"All... dewy-eyed. If you cry, I'm out."

I ducked my head. Okay, no tears of joy for me. I'd have to keep it together. "I just can't believe you did this for me," I said quietly.

House shifted, eyes not meeting mine. He tapped his cane on the ground, a short sigh escaping his lips. "You want to do it, I have the means, and once you're in pre-med you won't have nearly as much time to annoy me. Everybody wins."

Oh, House. The only person I knew who only got awkward when he did something nice for someone. "This is one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me." I so wasn't letting him get out of this without profuse thanks, whether he liked it or not. "Thank you, House. You have no idea what this means to me."

"Oh God. That's enough." He stole another fry from me, then rose from the booth. "Thursday, eight o'clock in the morning. Don't be late." He turned from me and limped his way out of the cafeteria, leaving me alone with a folder full of creative lies that were likely going to decide my future.

I flipped through the pages again, unable to stop smiling.

Maybe, just maybe, I was going to be a doctor.

Later that day, I strode through the lobby, ready to head back to the apartment. I needed to study up on all of the information House had given me so when the admissions advisor asked me about it, I would know what they were talking about. It might come across a tad suspicious if I didn't remember what I wrote in my own essay, or what I did during high school.

I also had to explain how House, Wilson, and Cuddy knew me, without mentioning the inconvenient fact that House was my 'father' – after a cursory perusal of the paperwork, I saw that House had never mentioned that. Wouldn't want him to be accused of nepotism.

I had one week to prepare. It didn't feel like nearly enough.

I was dragged out of my thoughts by the sight of a familiar head of blond hair ahead of me; it was Chase, jacket on, a bag over his shoulder. Was he going to investigate the Reilich's home? I couldn't quite remember the progression of Cursed; Rowan had always been the thing that stood out to me about the episode. Everything else had been dulled by time.

Speeding up, I managed to catch up with Chase before he reached the doors.

"Hey," I greeted, nearly slamming face-first into the glass in my rush to get to Chase. I cleared my throat, trying to recover some semblance of smoothness. "Field trip for House?"

"Yep," Chase answered shortly, pushing through the glass doors. I tailed behind him. He looked tense, and the grave downturn of his lips told me that something was wrong. He must've already run into his father.

"You look grumpy," I observed astutely. "Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," he answered, not missing a beat. He made for the parking garage. I kept in step with him.

"Where are you going?"

"Place our patient's been hanging out at." He was being particularly vague today, wasn't he?

"Can I come?" I don't know what prompted me to ask, but... okay, well, I didn't like seeing Chase sad. So far during my time there, Chase had been almost permanently even-keeled, definitely far more than Cameron and Foreman. It was strange to see him actually bothered by something.

Maybe he needed a friend. Granted, the stammering, nervous wreck I tended to become around him didn't make for great company, but I was better than nothing, right?

Chase eyed me. "You do realize we could get arrested doing this? Just because I'm a doctor doesn't mean breaking and entering is allowed. Not to mention the fact that you shouldn't even know anything about this case. Your dad doesn't care about doctor-patient confidentiality, doesn't mean I'm the same."

"Oh, come on. It'll be fun. And I'm bored, and... and I'll buy you dinner if you agree to take me along."

Lame offer, it's not like Chase couldn't afford food for himself, but I couldn't suppress the urge to push. Aside from wanting to be there for Chase as much as I could (it was only a matter of time before I had to tell him about his father) I also wanted the chance to see the more investigative side of working for House. After all, that was one of the things that set the show apart from other medical dramas. Sometimes, it almost felt like a crime procedural, with the kind of detective work the ducklings had to do.

"Are you asking me out on a date, Anya?" Chase asked, arching a thin eyebrow at me.

"I– no, I just– my motives are purely innocent, I assure you–"

To my surprise, Chase actually smiled. "I'm messing with you." He nodded towards his car, which was parked on the far-end of the first floor. "Fine. But not a word of this to anyone. I could get in a lot of trouble."

I saluted him. "Aye aye, sir."

"Don't call me sir."

"Aye aye, mam!"

Thirty minutes later, we were driving through a lazy Princeton suburb, made up of big brick houses with neat yards and cobblestone pathways. Peaceful. Quiet. Idyllic. Perfect place to raise a family. It was the kind of neighborhood I'd grown up in, back in Harrisburg... back in my universe.

I kept a straight face, but homesickness sat heavy and hard in my gut.

Chase slowed down near a house with a "FOR SALE" sign stabbed into the ground right next to the mailbox. There was a brick wall and wrought iron gate barring off the house itself from the yard. Nice home security. Chase pulled around to the back of the house and parked.

"I don't suppose you have a key?" I asked Chase.

He looked at me. "Ever hopped a fence before?"

No, no I hadn't, but it looked like I was about to. Chase got a running start and jumped, hooking his hands onto the top of the fence and pulling himself up. He got a foothold along the top, and used it to swing himself over to the other side. He dropped the remaining distance to the ground, expensive loafers hitting the ground with an audible clap.

"Now you," Chase said, looking at me expectantly from the other side of the bars.

"Uh. Right." Athleticism wasn't exactly my forte. Here goes nothing... I jumped. My fingertips grazed the top, but I wasn't able to grab on.

Chase just watched me, expression somewhere being amusement and exasperation. "Shall I get you a ladder?"

"Don't you worry. I've got this." No I don't. I jumped again, managing to grab on that time. Using what little upper body strength I had, I managed to pull myself up. I flailed around wildly, trying to get my foot up so I could swing myself over. Eventually, I managed to get one leg over. I practically threw myself over the other side. My grip failed, and I dangled by the fingertips of my right hand. It was still a bit of a fall, but Chase had done it without injury, so I figured 'd be fine.

I dropped down next to Chase, stumbling a bit. I brushed nonexistent dust off of my pants, trying to act nonchalant. "No problem," I said, grinning at him.

Chase scoffed at me, then turned on his heel and made his way around the side of the house. I followed behind him. "How are we getting in? Picking the lock?"

"Nope." We stopped at the welcome mat. Chase bent down, searching underneath it. A moment later, he pulled out a key. He showed it to me. "Nearly everyone stashes their key somewhere, and it's never nearly as good a hiding placing as they think it is." He opened the door, then replaced the key.

Inside we went. The house was empty and dusty. "It's being shown, right?"

"Looks like it. Our patient hung out here with some neighborhood kids," he told me, leading me up the stairs. "Guess they got a hold of a Ouija board, told him he was going to die."

"You put any stock in stuff like that?" I asked.

"Do I put stock in a bunch of dumb kids playing with things they don't understand? No."

"Is there something you do put stock in?"

"Are you asking if I believe in the supernatural?"

"Kind of broad, I know."

"I believe in... something." I wish I could've seen his face, but the only sight in front of me was Chase's back. We made it to the third floor. "Just something."

I wanted him to elaborate, but we reached the attic before I could. Chase pushed through the door, and then–

"Shit!"

Two kids dropped half-full beer bottles to the ground with a clatter, ready to bolt for the window.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold on, guys!" Chase called, pulling on a pair of gloves. "We don't care that you're up here!"

The two boys hovered at the window. "You cops?" the taller of the two asked.

The shorter one eyed me. "No way. She's like our age."

I stiffened. How old were they? Thirteen? Why did people keep mistaking me for a child? "I'm not your age," I told them. "But we're also not here to bug you. We're doctors."

"We're treating Gabe Reilich," Chase provided, and handed me a surgical mask and a pair of gloves. I suppose we had to be careful; after all, House's team didn't know that Gabe wasn't contagious. Not really, anyway. Leprosy was incredibly difficult to catch.

I strapped on my mask, and Chase asked the boys, "Did Gabe fall over near some pipes?"

"Yeah," the taller one said. "Over there." He gestured to the other side of the attic.

"What, over here?" Chase asked, kneeling down beside the indicated area.

The boys nodded. Chase took out his swab kit, ready to start collecting samples. I observed from behind him.

"Have either of you been feeling sick lately?" I asked the kids, deciding that if I was going to tag along with Chase, I might as well help the cause. "Rash, fever, anything like that?"

"No," the two chorused as Chase took a sample of the insulation that stuck up between the splintered boards of the attic's floor.

I heard something outside, a crackling... like a radio, almost. I turned my head. "Do you hear that–"

The boys swung their heads, staring out the window. "Fuck! They are cops!"

They were out the window on the other side of the attic before Chase and I even had the chance to look outside and see the patrol car parked out front, a uniform officer making his way to the house's entrance.

"We've got to go," Chase said, grabbing me by the wrist and following in the footsteps of the two boys. He perched on the window ledge with surprising nimbleness. I saw him eyeing a birch tree that was about a two foot jump away from the window.

"Chase, we're three stories up," I reminded him nervously.

"We don't have a choice. If I get arrested, Cuddy will kill me. If you get arrested, House will kill me." He launched himself at the tree and managed to wrap his arms around the trunk, digging in with his heels. He slid down until he was within jumping distance, then threw himself down. He looked up at me.

"Come on!" he hissed, motioning for me to follow. "We don't have much time."

"Is this a bad time to mention that I'm terrified of heights?"

"Anya!"

"Okay, okay!" I clambered up onto the windowsill, shaking. Oh wow, we were really high up. A drop like that could break my leg.

I heard the creak of the wrought iron gate opening. Ball-up, Carhart! I jettisoned myself out of the window, grabbing onto the tree koala style. To my joy, I didn't slip and crash down to my death (okay, more pain than death, but you get the idea), though my hold was anything but solid.

I tried to scoot my way down, but I only made it a few feet before my sneakers lost any kind of traction. A splintering pain through my freshly healed broken finger erased any remaining hope I had of staying on the tree, and before I even had time to gasp, I was plummeting to the earth.

Fuck fuck fuck–!

To my shock, I didn't collide full-force into the ground.

I stared at Chase, who'd somehow managed to catch me in his arms. He looked irritated, and there were bits of leaves stuck in his hair.

"My hero," I managed, a little breathless.

He set me back on my feet and was sprinting for the car before I had a chance to say thank you. I hurried after him as fast as I could. I more or less threw myself into Chase's car, and he was pulling away from the curb behind the house in a flash, foot on the pedal.

After we'd cleared the neighborhood, I breathed a deep sigh of relief. "Well. That was close."

Chase and I looked at one another when he reached a red light. I smiled at him.

We both burst out laughing, because what else was there to do? That had been ridiculous.

"No more field trips," Chase said once we'd calmed down.

"Ah, but it was fun!"

"Fun because we got away. Less fun if we had to spend the night in jail."

"You know what they say. Try everything once," I said with a shrug. "Thanks for bringing me."

"You're thanking me, after that?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'm gonna be a doctor someday, if everything turns out the way I want it to. Hard to do that if I'm not willing to get my hands dirty."

"S'pose that's true."

I wasn't sure what else to say, so I changed the subject. "Dinner?"

"Not tonight. House is going to want me back soon. Raincheck?"

"I'll hold you to it," I promised.

"I wouldn't expect any less."

"Alright then... Can I con you into driving me home?"

"Sure. You live towards the south end of town, right?"

I nodded. "Baker Street. You know where it is?"

"I do."

A relative silence settled on us after that. I kept stealing glances at Chase out of the corner of my eye, trying to guess what he was thinking. The show never really went in depth about Chase's issues with his father.

His mom was a drunk. His dad divorced his mom and left Chase and his sister alone with her. She died a few years later. Beyond that, I was relatively clueless.

"Are you okay?" I eventually inquired, not sure of what else to do.

Chase just stared ahead, tapping his fingers on the wheel. "Never better."

"What's that saying House has...? Everybody lies...?"

A withering glance from Chase quieted me. However, I did succeed in getting him to speak. "Do you resent House at all?"

"Resent him for what?"

"Not being in your life."

I shook my head as I tried to dredge up the details of my cover story. "Not really. He didn't even know that I existed until my mom died. There's nothing he could've done."

Chase just made a sound to show he heard me. He didn't offer up anything else.

"Do you resent your father?" I asked slowly.

Chase pulled onto Baker Street and snorted mirthlessly. "We don't have the kind of time I'd need to answer that question." He parked in front of the apartment building. "Don't tell your dad I took you out, alright? It's always Russian roulette how he reacts to things, I'd rather not risk it."

"I'd doubt he'd care, but okay." I extended my pinkie finger to him. "It'll be our secret."

Chase seemed dubious about the pinkie promise, but he condescended to knotting his pinkie with mine nonetheless. "Our secret."

I grinned at him, grabbed my bag out of the backseat, and climbed out of the car. As Chase drove away, I felt my smile fade as I remembered what was ahead of me.

In a day or two, I was going to have to tell Chase that his father was dying.