Chapter 52 — Prodigal Son

A/N: It feels good to be back, and to be updating on time! Thank you guys so much for the feedback! I'm undeserving of the warm welcome back, but it all put a huge smile on my face to know that y'all are still interested in Anya and this story after my long absence.

On with the show!

"SENATOR GARY WRIGHT COLLAPSES AFTER SPEECH"

Foreman and I watched the headline stream along the bottom of the tiny TV in House's office. I sat in House's Eames chair, while Foreman hovered nearby. Fox had managed to show the same footage of the Senator collapsing twelve times in the past hour, phrasing it differently each time, while someone who may or may not have been an actual doctor made comments off to the side, making it clear that he thought this signified a mental unsoundness on the Senator's part.

"And you said Vogler is making your dad take the case?" Foreman asked. "I don't want to imagine what kind of riot act House is gonna read a politician, if they get in the same room together."

"He is pretty anti-establishment," I acknowledged lightly, not betraying my unpleasant mood.

I'd followed House to work this morning, my fear of his growing contentions with Vogler driving me to keep an eye on him, and Vogler had pulled House into his office almost immediately upon us arriving. Role Model was not a fun episode, what with Vogler both demanding that House fire one of his staff, and that House endorse his new ACE Inhibitor. Vogler had yet to ask House to ax any staff members, which was what I feared most, but even Vogler asking him to give the ACE Inhibitor speech would be a harbinger of worse things to come.

As if my thoughts had summoned him, House pushed through the door a moment later, looking for all the world like he wanted to blow his brains out. "Foreman. Come on. Field trip."

"Anya says Gary Wright is our new patient."

House shot me an annoyed glare. "It's almost like she saw the future."

I shot an annoyed glare right back, but offered no response. I'm sure House could read the "fucking really?" stated clearly in my eyes.

House made for the door. "What are you waiting for, Foreman? You're my black liaison."

Foreman rolled his eyes, but he followed after House, lifting a hand in my direction as he made to leave, but I wasn't about to be left behind. Until the Vogler arc was put to bed, so long as I wasn't at work, I was intent on watching House's every move. Mob Rules had been a hell of a lesson. Leaving well enough alone wasn't going to help anyone, at least not for the remainder of season one.

I hopped out of House's chair. "Hey, wait up."

House shook his head, hand holding the door open. "No can do. High profile patient, and the walls have eyes." He wiggled his eyebrows. "You're grounded for this case. Go do your homework, or something."

"House, I'm graduated."

"Then go both Wilson. Ta-ta." He and Foreman disappeared, leaving me alone and disgruntled. I crossed my arms and sank back down into House's chair. My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I took it out, checking my inbox. Zach had texted me.

"So, remember last Friday when we saw that movie? Wanna do that again? Like, tomorrow night?"

I grinned, glad no one was around to see me. Our trip to the movies had been a good one. I'd already seen Kingdom of Heaven in my own timeline, but seeing it in theaters, and with a Zach, was a wholly new experience. We'd gotten Taco Bell afterwards, and sat and people-watched as the drunken bar crowd stumbled in seeking burritos. We'd kept it purely platonic as we treaded into this new, unknown territory, but it had been a great night.

"What are we seeing?" I texted back. I added a smiley, then deleted it. Then added it again. Holy shit, I hate myself.

"Go with the smiley face. Makes you sound more excited."

I nearly rocketed out House's Eames chair. "Chase!?"

He smirked at me. Apparently he'd been standing just over my shoulder. He shrugged off his coat and hung it up. "You act like I rose from the grave. I did say I was coming back."

"Sorry, I just—I didn't know exactly when you were getting back," I said, trying to recover from my over-the-top reaction.

Chase seemed faintly surprised. "I texted House earlier in the week and told him I'd be back in on Thursday."

"Bastard," I muttered. "Yeah, he didn't tell me. Or any of us, for that matter. I would've, I don't know. Made you a cake or something." On impulse, I gave him a quick hug, withdrawing before Chase even had a chance to return it. "I'm glad you're back."

"You can still make me a cake if you want," he joked.

"Yeah, but now when the stripper jumps out, it's not going to be nearly as exciting," I remarked with a smile. "How was the uh, vacation?" I didn't know how to broach the topic of his father without being overly morbid. "How close is your dad to being dead?" wasn't exactly the most palatable question.

Any amusement on Chase's features faded swiftly. He leaned against the wall. "I'm...glad," he said slowly. "That I got to be with him before the end."

"Did he...?"

"Yeah. 'Liza and I were with him when he...it was as painless and comfortable as it could be, all things considered."

"I thought he had longer to go than a month."

"So did we. But about three weeks into me being there, he started degenerating rapidly. Almost as soon as 'Liza came. I think he was holding on until both of us could be with him, and then he sort of just...let go."

"Jeez, Chase."

"I know it's your instinct to try comfort me right now, and that's sweet of you, but I'm alright," Chase told me before I could get another word out. "I got closure."

"I..." I wanted to say more, to press further, to find out how he was feeling and make sure he really was fine, but I didn't. That's not what he needed. By all appearances, his holiday to Australia had given him exactly what he needed. "Okay. Not a word of solace will escape my mouth, I promise. I'm just happy you're back and in one piece, and you found what you were looking for there."

A muscle in Chase's cheek twitched. He seemed far away. "I found something, alright." He cleared his throat, as if to pull himself out of some kind of haze. "Where's your father at?"

"Playing DS while Foreman looks over Senator Wright. Did your hear about that?"

"Collapsed during his speech yesterday, yeah?"

"Bingo. I'm not sure what exam room there in, though."

"I know House's usual haunts. Shouldn't take me too long to track him down." Chase surprised me by mussing up my hair before dipping out of the room. "It was good to see you again," he called over his shoulder.

I smiled a dopey, pathetic smile. "It's good to see you, too, Chase."

I set out to find House later in the day. With Chase back, Senator Wright's case would most likely roll along as planned, but the Vogler subplot was a whole 'nother story. I needed to figure out how their conversation earlier went. Mainly, if House had to fire anybody. If Vogler had still asked House to endorse his ACE Inhibitor, I could deal with that, maybe. I was half-sure I could convince House to do it, provided he was slightly more inclined to listen to me after our recent brushes with near deaths and fake deaths.

But if he had to fire somebody, that would be a major problem. I couldn't even remember exactly what went down in the show, besides the fact that it ended with Cameron being briefly fired, then re-hired after she and House's cringe-date. Hopefully that would be avoided in this timeline, since I'd encouraged House and Cameron to grow a bit closer.

(Hopefully not too close, though.)

I didn't know how it would play out now. Nobody was a rat for Vogler, and with luck, nobody would be. Foreman and House had gotten their hands dirty together with their Joey cover-up. With that hanging over his head, Foreman could scarcely make a move against House...not that I really thought he would, but I was happy that House had some blackmail on Foreman nevertheless. Chase had been gone the whole time, and had yet to even meet Vogler. Cameron would never betray House in any capacity, of that I had no doubt.

No traitors in our midst. And House wouldn't want to let any one of them go. He'd handpicked this team. I had no idea what he would do if Vogler ordered him to fire someone.

I finally managed to track House down in the clinic. Brenda had her head in her hands when I passed by the glass doors, so I assumed that meant House was nearby. After a quick check with her, she informed which room he was in, and I slipped inside.

"-that was almost a year ago," the woman he was seeing said, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Fine. Have it your way. Immaculate conception," House told her.

Oh. This was the sleep-sex chick, right? "Hail Mary, full of Grace?" I questioned.

"Who is she?" asked his patient.

"Escaped from the pediatric ward. I'll have to cuff her and take her back." House rose from his stool, clearly happy for the opportunity to leave.

"Wait, wait, what do I do?" she burst out before he could meet me at the door.

"Isn't it obvious? Start a religion." With that, House left, and I trailed along at his heels. Once the door closed, House asked me, "You're smiling. Why are you smiling?"

"Oh, her. She's fun."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"You'll hate me if I spoil anything. How's Senator Wright?"

"LP showed no sign of infection. MRI was clean except for that chunk of his brain where it wasn't clean." House's eyes widened, and he grabbed me and pulled me behind the clinic desk, even going so far as to crouch down, which couldn't have felt good on his leg.

"What the fuck are you-"

"SHH!" House covered my mouth with a large hand. I heard the click-clack of heels nearby, circling the desk. Oh, Cuddy. We were hiding from Cuddy. I stilled, feeling inexplicably nervous. I'd always liked hide-and-seek. After a few breaths, House peeked over the clinic desk, then took his hand off my mouth in favor of grabbing my wrist. "Quick!"

Moving obscenely fast for a man with a bum leg, we scurried to the fire exit for the clinic, where the nurses would sneak out to have a smoke. He pushed and dragged me through, and a moment later, we were standing on a concrete slab littered with cigarette butts, bathing in the midday sun. House released my wrist, and I wrung it out with a grimace. Dude had a tight grip.

"That was close," House said casually, sliding his bottle of vicodin out of his pocket and emptying three out into his palm. He tossed them into his mouth and dry swallowed them.

I sighed and turned away. "Okay, I'll bite: why are we hiding from Cuddy?"

"Because she's not going to want me to do a brain biopsy on our patient."

"This is the part where I pretend to be confused and ask 'why' and then you give me the punch-line."

"Buzzkill. There was something on Wright's Broca's area. Small, low intensity, but worth investigating," House explained, pocketing his pill bottle and spinning his cane. He started walking, and I followed behind. Together we traced a path along the side of the hospital, towards one of the more well-kept outdoor sitting areas.

"You mean she doesn't want you to start stabbing around in the brain of the man who could be the future President of the United States on a hunch? Wow. What a bitch." I bounced my eyebrows at him. "She's gonna catch up with you soon enough. If not, she'll just shut down the biopsy without talking to you."

"He's not gonna be president. Baby Boomers are the ones who show up to the polls, and they're the racists."

"You're a Baby Boomer."

"I'm extremely racist. I even have a slave. Speaking of, have you seen Foreman anywhere?"

"God, how did you ever get an eight o'clock time slot with jokes like that..."

"Eight o'clock? Really? I'm insulted."

I just laughed. "You really think a black president is that unlikely? What if I tell you that the man who wins the next election is black?"

"I wouldn't believe you."

I turned my eyes to him and smirked. "Wanna put some money down on it?"

House stared at me for a few moments, then rolled his eyes. "You being from the future sucks the fun out of everything."

"Did you feel like that when you walked away from the Super Bowl with tens of thousands of dollars?" I asked nonchalantly.

House settled down at one of the umbrella-covered picnic tables that sat outside the hospital gift shop. "That wasn't fun. Profitable, but not fun. And I blew most of that money on my ungrateful kid, anyway."

The fact that House didn't tack on 'fake' anywhere in the kid statement made me brighten somewhat. "I never said I was ungrateful."

"No, you just had an existential crisis about how I was slowly turning you into an irredeemable monster," he replied, massaging his thigh.

"Now you're just over-dramatizing. Oh, thanks for telling me that Chase was back, by the way."

"What?" House threw on a face of mock affront. "Excuse me for trying to surprise you."

"Right..."

"HOUSE!"

House winced. "Shit."

"Eight o'clock time slot," I muttered again, watching Cuddy storm out of the gift shop doors and towards us. I was impressed, she managed to follow us pretty damn quickly. I made a mental note not to try to escape Cuddy when she was angry. She was like a bloodhound.

"Yes, Mother Superior, my obvious avoidance of you was a sign to come closer and browbeat me," House said when Cuddy arrived.

"You are not doing a brain biopsy on a spot on an MRI," Cuddy said immediately. "Not on a United States Senator."

"Just to be clear, if he was a janitor, you'd okay the biopsy? Do you have a list so I know who I can risk and who I can't?"

Cuddy ignored the comment. "A brain biopsy can cause permanent neurological damage."

"Uh-huh. Whereas tumors are really good for brains. Make 'em grow big and strong." House rose, clearly intending to leave. "It's my call."

"No, it's not," Cuddy insisted.

House rounded on her, hackles raising. "You're pulling rank on patient care?"

Cuddy didn't back down to House's visible irritation. "It's not my call either."

House stared at her for a solid six seconds before saying, "You're gonna let him decide?"

"Why do you seem so appalled by that? He'd have to sign the consent forms either way."

"Because patients are idiots. Even Senators. Especially Senators."

"We'll lay it all out for him, but ultimately, it comes down to Senator Wright. Come on. We can break the news to him together. Won't that be fun?" Cuddy's smile was bitterly sarcastic. She turned on her heel and started heading back inside.

House deflated. "You could have warned me."

"In my defense, I don't have eidetic memory. I didn't even remember this happening."

"Useless." House sighed, trudging off after Cuddy. I watched them go, chin resting on my hand. It wasn't until they were already inside that I realized I'd never actually asked House about Vogler. Damn, I'd been too caught up in the banter!

"Shit, Vogler," I muttered under my breath, jumping up to run after House before I lost him, but I was stopped by a voice behind me.

"Shit, me?"

My eyes widened, and I froze. I turned slowly. Vogler stood behind me, smiling pleasantly. Welp. This is bad. I was just getting surprised by everyone today, wasn't I? And this was a much less pleasant surprise than Chase's return.

"Uh..." Making up lies on my feet was not my talent. Making up lies period was not my talent. "Sorry, sir. That was rude. House and Cuddy were having a conversation about his patient, and I was there...House always makes sure I'm not around when he's talking about patient stuff, confidentiality and all that...I was just worried if it got back to you, he would get in trouble."

Vogler narrowed his eyes at me. "You're very nervous."

"I, uh..." Maybe a bit of honesty? "Sorry. I just get the general vibe you don't like my dad. I don't want to do anything that could come back to bite him."

"Oh, I think your father can bite himself all on his own," Vogler remarked, still smiling.

Bastard. This conversation was going to either dig me, or House, or both of us into a hole, so I tried to make my exit. "I'll stop cursing your name under my breath. Really sorry about that. But uh, I gotta get going-"

"It was actually you I was looking for."

"...oh?" I squeaked.

This is worse than bad.

"I was wondering if you could do me a favor," the Devil himself asked me.

"What...I don't really see what I could do for you..."

"Eastbrook Pharmaceuticals has developed a new ACE Inhibitor. I'd like your father to extol its virtues at the National Cardiology Conference next week."

Why the hell was Vogler trying to go through me? Why not just ask House directly, like in the episode proper? Why did I matter? "Mr. Vogler, I'm sure your product's great, but my dad's not really a—an extolling kinda guy, you know." I swallowed. "He's shy." Jesus Christ, I'm choking, here.

"I suppose I should elaborate," Vogler said, smiling finally dropping. "When I say a favor, what I mean is this: I can smell a bribe a mile away, and I know that you didn't get into Princeton through legitimate means. I can make your scholarship there, along with your acceptance, fall apart at the seams in less than an hour." He slid his cell phone out of his pocket and held it up. "Three calls, and you can kiss your future goodbye."

I backed up as if I was struck. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb with me, Anya. I can tell you're a chip off the old block in that department. But I'm depending on you having more common sense than your father. I don't like having to threaten a teenage girl. That's not the kind of man I am, but the kind of man your father is, that's going to be a very big problem for me if I can't get him under control. I think you could be the check and balance he so desperately needs. I'm just giving you an extra bit of motivation."

He slid his phone back in his pocket, then glanced up at the fluffy passing clouds. "Lovely day out. I think I'll take a walk." That fake smile cropped back up on his face again. "Just think on what I said, Anya. And enjoy the weather."

Vogler walked away, leaving me gaping.

"Fuck," I eventually managed. "Fuck!"