Not Entirely Human Error, Part 7

Nov 26, 2007 08:04


Hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving! Here's a story update, finally. I have to admit that I'm enjoying writing angry!Chase - he really needs to get a few things out of his system, and if the show won't provide for his mental health, I'll do it myself  8D

TITLE:  Not Entirely Human Error - Part 7
AUTHOR:  parkermonster
PAIRING:  House/Chase
RATING:  PG-13, for language
NOTES:  Spoilers for Human Error, and everything that leads up to that
SUMMARY:  Chase is getting it together,and life is more complicated, whether he likes it or not.

DISCLAIMER: Just borrowing. Thanks, creators!

Check it out from the beginning.

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Part 7

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Wilson headed to Chase’s workspace to pick him up for their lunch date. Wilson was curious to see how things were going now that Chase was back on the job in the ICU. Oddly enough, House had been willing to keep his distance for those first few days, allowing Chase some time to settle in. It had to be the calm before the storm, though. House had his feelers out about Chase’s activities, and while no one had much interest in gossiping with House, he did have a knack for getting information in roundabout ways.

House had reacted with unholy glee after determining that Cameron had indeed taken another position on the West Coast. He remarked to Wilson on several occasions that Cameron “wasn’t right” for Chase, and Wilson had finally decided to call him on it.

“So, if Cameron isn’t right for Chase, did you have someone else in mind?”

House grinned. “I have no idea who’s right for Chase. He’s a big boy; he’ll figure it out. On the other hand, I know who Chase is right for.”

Well, that might be the last piece of the puzzle. “No, House. You wouldn’t dare, after all the crap you’ve pulled already.” Wilson paused. “Actually, we both know you would dare, so scratch that. I’m going to pretend I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Wilson wondered if the only decent thing to do might be to warn Chase.

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Chase was studying his computer screen as Wilson approached his desk. “Wilson, have you seen this week’s New England Journal, the article about HER2-positive breast cancer treatment regimens?”

“Actually, no. At the rate my schedule is going, I should catch up on my journals in about, oh, 2012.”

“One of the few benefits of being out of work is the opportunity to actually get some reading done. Have a look at these data on the relative success of paclitaxel regimens.”

Wilson walked around the desk to have a look at the screen, and something pink caught his eye on Chase’s bookshelf. When he recognized what was in the cubbyhole, visible only from behind Chase’s desk, he burst out laughing.

“What?” Chase frowned.

Wilson grinned and pointed to the bookshelf. “You know, House must really like you a lot if he gave you one of those too. I admire your bravery; I keep mine packed in a box in storage.”

Chase looked over at his newly acquired ‘treasure’ and started grinning too. “Only House could find something like this and then actually give it to someone. Forgive me if I’m not entirely flattered.”

“Chase, you have to admit; not just anyone could get their hands on a foot-high pink plastic “Answer Me Jesus”. Mere mortals - and that includes House himself -make do with a plain old-fashioned Magic 8 Ball.” Wilson reached over and grabbed the cheesy statue of Jesus.

“Oh Jesus,” Wilson proclaimed airily, “Tell us if House will ever reach the maturity of a ten-year-old.” Wilson turned the statue upside-down and checked the message. “See, Chase, it says, ‘Have faith, my son’.”

“You know, Wilson, that thing is really quite… blasphemous.”

“Cheer up. At least you’re not Jewish.”

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Chase enjoyed his lunch with Wilson. House did not make an appearance, probably because they drove thirty minutes from the hospital and hid the car. Wilson swore that he waited until House was in the middle of one of his soap operas before sneaking out. It was really rather pathetic; two grown men trying desperately to avoid the schoolyard bully.

They talked about Chase’s new job and various bits of hospital gossip. He discovered that Wilson was still living in the hotel, apparently getting quite comfortable. Cuddy had been dumping fellowship applications on House’s desk, without arousing much interest on House’s part. Chase wondered who was doing House’s clinic duty these days, but he didn’t ask.

Over coffee, Wilson gave Chase an appraising look. “He misses you, you know.”

“Yeah? Well, he shouldn’t have fired me, then. Problem avoided.”

“I’m pretty sure that at some level, House regrets firing you. Of course, he buries that level pretty deep, so it’s not much consolation.”

“Doesn’t matter now anyway. I’ve landed on my feet and I’m back in intensive care, working my specialty. In some ways, I may have gotten the better end of the deal.”

“You should probably know that House says he did you a big favor. Firing you was supposed to be a compliment to your medical abilities.”

Chase grimaced. “Only House could rationalize one of his temper tantrums as a back-handed compliment. At the Outback Steakhouse they refer to that as kangaroos loose in the attic.”

“I’ll have to remember that one, Chase. It may be the best explanation I’ve heard yet.”

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Chase didn’t have much time to think about House or anything else of a personal nature during the afternoon, due to a string of emergencies in the ICU. It never failed that several patients would go into cardiac arrest within a short time, and then nothing for hours. He hoped his overnight shift would be quieter.

Finally he had some downtime to work on charts. The steady night sound of machines and absence of human noise were reassuring; the unit was in equilibrium for a while. He was absorbed in his paperwork, but not so much that he didn’t notice the light tapping sound he had come to associate with House sneaking up on him. Great, just what I needed tonight.

Chase restrained himself from looking up when House reaching the doorway and stopped. He kept on writing for more than a minute before he heard the familiar voice.

“You’re not fooling me, you know. I can see by the little hairs standing up on the back of your neck that you know I’m here.”

Chase still didn’t look up. “You can’t see the back of my neck from there, House.”

“Don’t need to. I am a diagnostician, after all.”

“Is there a reason you’re lurking in my doorway? I’m busy. Go bother Wilson.”

“Boy Wonder’s gone home for the night. You’re the next best thing.”

Chase threw down his pen, leaned back and glared at House. “No, I was the last best thing. You’re forgetting that I’m not your captive audience anymore.”

House apparently took Chase’s acknowledgement as an invitation to saunter into the office and sit in the nearest chair. “Ah, but you are, as long as I’m between you and the door.”

Chase just shook his head. “Guess you got me, there. I never could keep up with your lightning-fast logic. Is there a purpose to this intrusion?”

House had busied himself tossing his cane back and forth between his hands. “Are you bored yet?”

“By this conversation? Yes.”

“No, by the ICU.”

Chase frowned. “Why would I be bored with the ICU? Ignoring the fact that I’ve only been working here full-time for a week and a half, intensive care is my chosen specialty. I doubt many doctors would consider saving lives on an hourly basis boring.”

Now House looked up and scowled at Chase. “Come off it. This is a no-brainer position. You could train a monkey to do the procedures you’re wasting your time on.”

Chase locked into eye contact with House and scowled back. “Thank you. Would those be flying monkeys or robot monkeys?”

House was trying to look thoughtful. “Hmm, which are smarter, I wonder. It would be the other kind.”

“House, I have work to do. You seem to be the one who’s bored. If you just want to point out to me that the wonderful job you fired me from was much better than my current position, just say it. Then I can pretend to look hurt and you can go back to your office and pretend it’s a job well done.”

Finally the cane stopped passing back and forth, and House assumed a serious expression.

“I want you to come work as a consultant for the Diagnostics Department.”

Chase didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. “You fired me, remember?”

“I fired you as a Fellow. Now you can come back as an attending consultant.”

This has been building for a long time, Chase thought grimly. Anger control, Chase. Anger control. “A month ago, I wasn't worth the courtesy of two weeks notice. Now you’ve decided you can somehow find it in your heart to work with me again? Why in God’s name would you think I’d even consider working with you?”

“Wait, I know this one. Would it be because you love Diagnostics?”

“Not that much.”

“You like working with me?”

“Definitely wrong.”

“You’re a glutton for punishment?”

“I’m getting help for that, so, no, not anymore.”

House made one of his patented mock-scowls. “You drive a hard bargain these days. OK, you win; I’ll take you on a date if you come back.”

Chase laughed. “You can save that for Cameron. You do seem to have missed your chance with Foreman, though.”

Now House was scowling for real. “Cameron made me do it, and I had no interest in going out with Foreman.”

Chase glared at the wall above House’s head and counted to three. “What’s that supposed to mean?” It had better not mean what I think.

“Don’t be dense. It means that I’m actually interested in going out with you.”

Chase willed himself to be very still. “Let me get this straight. You want to go on a DATE with me?”
House smirked. “Well, have sex would probably be more accurate. They aren’t the same, you know, no matter what you Limeys think.”
Chase was just… beyond gobsmacked. House had insinuated something along these lines last Christmas, but never followed up in any way. Chase had assumed that House’s drunken stupor at the time explained that bit of weirdness. Did he actually think he had the right to bring it up NOW? He stared at his desk for a moment and then picked up a textbook, considering whether he should clock House in the head with it. Anger control, Chase. Mustn’t lose your temper, no matter how much provocation you’ve had over the past three years. On the other hand…
Instead of throwing the book, he slammed it down on the desk hard enough to make his pencils jump. He kept his voice low, but there was no mistaking the tone. “Goddamn it, House! You truly are mad. You think you can hand me a pink slip and then, what? Try to get into my pants?”
Although he was trying to cover it up, House was clearly taken aback by Chase’s vehemence. “Oh c’mon, I told you to leave for your own good. You didn’t need the fellowship anymore, and you would have hung around forever without a little push.”
“A little push? “You’re fired” is not a little push. It’s another bloody face-punch. Was that for my own good too? No, wait, I remember. That was you being pissed off at life in general.”
“What do you want to hear? OK, I could have handled…things…a bit better.”
Chase couldn’t remember being this angry in a long time. He stood up and gestured toward the door. “You know what? I don’t want to hear another bloody word from you. You must think I’m a real fuck-wit, to fall for this crap again. Get out, House.”
House started to say something, then clearly thought better of it. As he passed though the door, Chase kicked it shut behind him. Bloody ratbag! Feels good to finally let a bit of it out.
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Ouch, House thought as he got on the elevator. That didn’t go well at all. Chase didn’t even bother to correct the Limey joke. Not a good sign.
It was nothing new to have someone really angry with him, but Chase? Chase didn’t do angry. Annoyed, yes, and sometimes even loud, when he disagreed with something professionally, but never openly angry. Passive-aggressive was more his style.
Clearly he was going to need a different approach if he wanted to develop a new personal and professional relationship with Chase. He remembered something Chase had said a while ago about convincing Foreman to stay on:
“He might not want a date, but he does want something.”
“Well, maybe it’s something I can’t offer,” House had replied.
“Then you’ll just lie.”
“He’d see through it.”
“Maybe. Maybe he’ll just see what he wants to see.”
Hmm. Now all he had to do was figure out what Chase really wanted to see.

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Please feed the habit with comments!

On to Part 8!


house/chase fic

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