Differential Diagnosis

by Titti

Dr. House sighed when he saw the door open. There was never a moment of peace in this blasted hospital. He took one look at Chase and prepared for the eventual question. "If you're here to ask me why I hired you, you already know." He opened the plastic bottle and swallowed two pills dry, before looking pointedly at the younger doctor.

Chase smiled as he reached the coffee maker. "I was here for tea, and yes, I do know." Without looking at House, he poured the hot water in his mug, and prepared his tea. "I also know that regardless of my father's call, I wouldn't have made it past the first hour here if I didn't know how to do my job."

That perennial smile and innocent look annoyed House to no end. No one should look so nave after med school, a gruesome residency, and a specialization in intensive care medicine.

"Is there anything I can help you with, Dr. House?" Chase asked politely.

Oh right, he was staring, thinking of ways to wipe that smile off his face. "Are you always so pleasant? I mean you are a kiss ass, always trying to please me."

He had meant it as an insult, but the smile only got brighter.

"That's what makes me a good doctor. I can sense people's needs and expectation, and then I anticipate them."

"No, that makes you a good babysitter, a noble profession for someone slightly deranged, but not what you do. Curing their illnesses makes you a good doctor."

"Sometimes attending to their needs keeps them alive long enough to find a cure." Chase raised the mug to his lips and sipped his tea. "If you'll excuse me, there are more patients I need to baby-sit."

House watched Chase go. It was so easy to manipulate Cameron and Foreman, but he couldn't get a fix on Chase. But before there were more important things to do: he really needed to find a way to wipe that smile off.

~*~*~*~

There were few stars out as House made his way across the roof, his cane pressing against the tar as he walked. He stopped at the edge, standing next to Chase. "When babysitting doesn't work, you can always tackle them."

Chase turned his head, the first sign that he had heard House, although the noise from the cane had certainly given him away long before. Chase smiled. "Something like that, yes." He rubbed his hand over his face. "He could have died."

"Yet, he didn't. You anticipated what he needed, and..." House smirked. "Knocked him to the ground."

Chase chuckled. "Yes, I don't think that's quite proper medicine."

"We don't *do* proper medicine. We make differential diagnosis, and we sometimes use unorthodox solutions to our problems." House adjusted the grip on his cane, shifting his weight, his shoulder moving a tad closer to Chase. "You saved him, that's all it counts."

"I should have paid more attention before he wondered out," Chase replied.

"You're not a wizard, Chase. Don't start thinking that you are."

"I've seen too many patients die to think that."

And that smile wasn't there, and for the first time House missed it. However, he simply nodded. "Good night, Chase."

"Good night, Dr. House." The young doctor stayed on the roof, ignoring his boss slowly making his way inside.

~*~*~*~

Chase reached the hospital pharmacy. "I need a vial of peginterferon alpha-2b and three capsules of ribavirin."

"Sorry, doctor, but it will take me a while." The pharmacist gave a pointed look at the floor and at the pile of packages, vials, and general confusion down below.

Curious, Chase followed the pharmacist's gaze, and smiled when he saw House sitting on the floor.

"Aren't you going to ask?" House asked.

Chase shook his head. "I'm sure there is a perfectly good explanation, and I'll avoid any embarrassment by inferring anything not proper."

"Kiss ass," House murmured under his breath, and then, "Ha ha, I was right!" He dropped the pills on his hand and raised it for Chase to see.

"Yellow, small, round, and not cough medicine, I presume," Chase commented. "The boy is fine, now. The pills make no difference."

"Of course, they do. They prove that I made the correct diagnosis." House found his cane, but before he could get up he saw a hand in front of his face. He looked up and glared at Chase.

The young doctor pulled his hand away, looking chastised by the mere look. "I would have done the same for anyone."

"I'm *not* anyone." With some maneuvering, House got up, and walked to the hallway. "Hepatitis C?"

Chase frowned, then smiled again. "Hopefully. At least we'd have something to cure, but I doubt it's what's causing the trouble."

"Why don't I know about this?" House asked, glaring again. "I am chief of Diagnostic Medicine. I approve the cases, start diagnosis, unless you have forgotten all of that."

"I haven't."

By god, the smile was back, and with it, House's urge to smack the doctor, or maybe put his cane in front of Chase and trip him. "So? Who is this patient?"

"Not one of ours. Doctor Cuddy asked me if I'd help in the ICU, since we're not doing anything."

"And you're helping? Without being blackmailed or anything? What's wrong with you?" House shook his head. "I see you're moving to bigger ...asses."

Chase snorted. "Right, it couldn't possibly be that people are dying, and it's better than sitting around doing crossword puzzles or convincing Foreman that I'm not interested in Cameron."

"Riiight. I've heard of that little thing," House said with a smirk. "You and Cameron, I must say that even I didn't see it, and I see everything."

Chase rolled his eyes. "There isn't anything to see or know. Foreman is deadly wrong."

"No, I don't think so. I admit the man is arrogant-" House ignored the snort coming from the younger doctor. Why people assumed that he was arrogant was beyond him. His keen intelligence surpassed others, but that was an objective fact. "As I was saying, he's got a feeling for these things. He was adamant that you were uncomfortable around Cameron after her outburst about sex."

"Maybe," Chase conceded, "but he's still wrong."

"Doctor, here is your peginterferon and ribavirin." The pharmacist handed him the meds.

"Thank you." Chase shifted the drugs between his hands. Then, he looked at House. "You have the data, but the diagnosis is wrong. Have a good day, Doctor."

He was willingly doing extra work, and still smiling. House would find out what was wrong with Chase.

~*~*~*~

The moon shone brightly as Chase walked briskly, as he crossed the roof quickly, but his pace slowed down when he saw the familiar figure standing close to the edge. "Dr. House."

House turned long enough to see who was there, and sighed annoyed. "A hospital this size and you manage to annoy me with your presence almost constantly."

Chase bit his lips to stop the smile. "I needed some fresh air. I didn't mean to disturb you."

"You know it's illegal to be here."

"For me? Of course, it's perfectly all right for you," Chase said with a straight face, but he didn't get a response. He looked at his boss, but House seemed distracted, staring at the panorama, parked cars in the large parking lot, trees in the distance. "We did the right thing. We saved five of those children," he said suddenly.

"No, I did the right thing over everyone's objections." House finally turned toward the other man. "Not everyone. I don't recall you objecting."

"Because it was the right decision to make. You made it and you saved them. There is something though..."

House raised an eyebrow. "Should we bring a couch up here? Chitchat some? Do some male bonding?" But even as he spoke, he could see that his words were not doing their job. Chase continued to stare at him, determination clear in his eyes.

"I should have spoken to the parents, not Cameron," Chase said.

"Oh the knight in shining armor," House said sarcastically.

"No, it has nothing to do with that. I'm the intensivist, and that's part of my job, not Cameron's."

House took a step forward, until they were standing a little too close for comfort. "You don't seem to understand what your job is. Your job is to stay in that ICU, and make sure that you keep the patients alive. She had nothing to do at that moment, and they were her obligation."

"That's fresh coming from you, the man who wants to remove humanity from medicine." Chase shook his head. It became his turn to stare at the empty space.

"When she's in charge of the department, she can delegate, until then... you all do what I say, but you don't have a problem when it's you or Foreman." He took a deep breath, shifting his weight, both hands resting on the cane. "Your little crush on Cameron is getting really bothersome."

Chase smiled again. "I don't have a crush on her. You're making your diagnosis without looking at all the symptoms."

"Really? Umm...that sounds like a challenge to me, Dr. Chase," he said, stressing the title.

"Maybe it is, Dr. House, and it's time for me to go inside. Wouldn't want to break the law or anything? By standing on the roof," he added belatedly, still smiling.

House watched him go, a sight that was becoming all too familiar. However, Chase had just turned into a puzzle, and House couldn't resist solving it.

~*~*~*~

House banged the cane as his desk. "What are you doing still here? Get to work." The three doctors stood up before he even finished the sentence. Wilson kept telling him that he would have been a great drill sergeant, but scaring young doctors was just as entertaining. "Not you, Chase," he said when the other two had already walked out of the room.

He pointed the cane toward the door. "Close it, and sit back down." With some difficulty, he got up from his desk and made his way to the dry erase board. He erased all their diagnosis before picking up the red marker.

'Uncomfortable with Sex', he wrote on top, and then turned to Chase.

Chase shook his head in annoyance. "I can't believe you're doing this. We have a patient."

"He isn't critical, yet. He can wait," House said while he picked up the green marker and began making a list.

"Of course, why help him before he becomes critical," Chase said sarcastically.

"You aren't good enough at sarcasm. All right, we have the symptoms, so let's try differential Diagnosis. You like Cameron..." He crossed it out. "We established that it isn't the case."

"I could have lied," Chase answered with a smirk.

"True, but sometimes you have to make assumptions because there simply isn't enough information." He went back to the board, and wrote 'abuse/rape', and crossed it out again.

"I'm impressed, Dr. House. How did you come to that brilliant conclusion?"

"I told you that sarcasm doesn't suit you, and simple observation. You talk about sex, don't move away from people, don't flinch when someone touches you. No, that's not it. Of course that erases the possibility that you are simply uncomfortable with the notion of sex. No, there is more."

House smirked at Chase, while writing without looking at the board, his handwriting oblique across the board. 'Uncomfortable with women/gay'. "So, is that it?"

"You know you could have simply asked, right? And yes, I am gay."

"Nonsense, I could get sued: sexual harassment, or some other crap." House waved a hand. "Beside it's much more entertaining this way."

"Entertaining for whom?" Chase asked, and now his amusement was obvious, his smile testimonial of that.

"Me of course. Now, on to the second point." House erased everything quickly, and wrote 'Smiletonites'. "This is a very annoying, but extremely rare condition. Most people in hospitals tend to cry, be depressed, pray, but rarely they smile. So what could cause this serious condition?"

House took out his pills and swallowed two, without bother with water. Then, he turned to the board. 'Idiot, muscle spasm, mental incompetence, nerves defect', he continued to write, when he felt Chase move behind him.

Chase erased everything with quick sweeps across the board. He took a marker, and wrote 'I like you'. "And before you start with something to embarrass me, I mean that I find your sarcasm entertaining, and see we're not that different, your intelligence is impressive, and your brutal honesty refreshing. Drinking a cup of coffee can become an adventure in this office, and I enjoy that. So simply put: I smile a lot around you because you are much different than anyone I've ever met, and I like it. Now, I have a patient, who hopefully didn't die."

"Nah, they would have called me if he had." House nodded toward the door. "Go, and don't bother me unless it's important."

Chase didn't bother to hide his smile. "I'll make sure he doesn't die until after General Hospital is over."

Cheeky bastard, House thought briefly, but then General Hospital started and he forgot about Chase, and remembered once more that he had to thank Wilson for this gift.

~*~*~*~

House got ready for another trek across the roof. This was becoming ridiculous, spending so many nights on the roof. With the weather turning colder, they should really try the basement or the boiler room. Of course, his anger kept him warm, at least momentarily.

"I'm here, if you're looking for me."

House stopped in his walk, and turned around. Chase was sitting on the floor, back resting against the wall, only a few feet from the door. The young man looked hurt and tired, but that wouldn't certainly stop him. "You left your patient."

"He's not dying," Chase answered coldly.

"You practically ran out of the room. What's wrong with you?" House asked annoyed. He was tempted to swat him with the cane, but legal might take objection to that. "You've watched newborns die without batting an eye, and you pull this crap. He was looking at you for help in making his decision."

"Not my decision, is it? I explain everything, but it's his call to make," Chase responded automatically.

"It's your job to help decipher the medical mambo jumbo for him." House walked back, and rested against the wall, shifting his weight on his good leg. "Back to my original question, what happened?"

"Your original question was what's wrong with me." Chase looked up, his jaw tense, his teeth grinding. There was no trace of a smile now. "He's twenty-three, not a child, but an adult, and yet he'd have rather died than tell his parents he's gay."

"Ah!" Except he had no idea what the parents had to do with this. Then again, he hadn't met the patient either. "Why were the parents even an issue?"

"Don't 'ah' me. His parents haven't left his side since he came in. Josh said it was okay, and of course, lied to us to make sure his parents didn't find out." Chase got up and stood, back against the wall, only mere inches away. "It was sheer luck that we found out."

Oh yes, now Foreman's babbling about a virus spreading at a gay bar in New York City made a little more sense. To House, a virus was a virus, how and when weren't as important as how to cure it. "I told you; people lie."

"I'll keep that in mind," Chase said abruptly.

"You never told your parents, have you? This is what it's about. It has nothing to do with John-"

"Josh," Chase corrected.

"Yeah, John, Josh, doesn't matter. This was about you, running away because you never had the guts to do it." House turned until he could see Chase's profile. " So who else knows? Friends, colleagues, relatives?"

"A few friends, back in Sydney..." Chase locked gaze with House, blue meeting brown in the dark night. "And you." There was a moment of silence, neither moving nor speaking, and then Chase lowered his eyes. "I should go back."

House raised his cane, trapping Chase between the wall and the stick. "As you said, he isn't dying."

Chase looked down at the cane, then back up. "What now?"

"Now, we need some differential diagnosis on what caused you to tell me, and not...well, to just about everyone on this planet. It could possibly be my charming and outgoing personality. I admit I'm making an assumption, but I doubt it."

Chase's lips curled into a smile. "Difficult assumption to make."

"Yes, I won this year's price for best bedside manners," House said, keeping a straight face.

"Really? Was anyone occupying those beds?" Chase asked innocently.

House lowered the cane, and took a step forward. "You said that I could ask, so why did you tell me?"

"I should have kept my gob shut."

House wasn't sure if the young doctor was talking about asking questions or being gay, but it was too late for both. "But we both know that I would have discovered it anyway."

"Since you're so brilliant, why don't you tell me?"

Chase should stop throwing challenges at him, because it only made him want to solve the problem, not that this one was hard to solve. House took the last step, bringing their bodies close enough that they almost touched. "Because you like me," he said with a smirk.

The lowering of the eyes and the faint blush told him he was right. Not that he was ever wrong. "I know it's hard to engage the few brain cells you have, but have you wondered why I'm bothering with this?"

"I don't suppose it's your keen interest in your subordinates' lives and well-beings," Chase said, looking at House from under his eyelashes.

"That would be a brilliant diagnosis, but it's wrong this time," House answered, fighting to stay serious. Chase would not get him to smile.

Chase sighed. "I don't know, unless it's your way to torment me, but you're putting too much effort, when there are so many people around that you can torment." The longer Chase spoke the thicker the accent got, a sign of nervousness that House stored away.

"Sometimes, the obvious diagnosis is the right one. Sometimes, the simpler explanation is the correct one." He took a small step, the cane there to help as they stood toe to toe. "It's because you intrigue me." Finally the slow journey was completed as House's lips brushed against Chase's. "In more ways than one."

"Cameron," Chase breathed, his voice shaky and his eyes bewildered.

"Lovely woman," House said with a smirk.

"No...yes... I mean you fancy her. It's why you hired her."

House took a step back, and glared at the other man. "I did no such thing. I hired her because an attractive woman working so hard has something to prove, and that means that she'll work hard."

"But...all those comments..." House simply raised an eyebrow, although he would have admitted, to a selected few, that he was quite amused by the babbling. "You know... about miniskirts."

"She expects them, and you know how her lips thin, and she gets this frown, a wrinkle just here-" He pointed in the middle of his brows. "And the vein in her temple throbbing so hard that you can see it, it's all..."

"very entertaining," Chase concluded for him. "She could sue you, you know."

"So could you, and you'd have a reason. So are you always so good at ignoring reality? That could become a problem when treating a patient."

Chase shook his head, before rubbing his face with his hands. "This is bloody absurd, you know that, right? Of course, you know. You know everything, probably you knew it from the start, and this was your way to amuse yourself, and where are you going now?" He asked as he watched House walk past him and toward the door as if nothing had happened.

"It's after five, and I'm going home. You have a patient waiting for you downstairs. 235 College Road East."

"Ah?"

House turned and wrapped his scarf around his neck. "What did I just tell you?"

"235 College Road East," Chase repeated dumbly.

"Right, my house. Come by after you're done, maybe with some warmth your brain cells will work again, and you'll be able to think again."

Chase watched gobsmacked as House walked back into the building. He wasn't sure how they had gotten to this point, but he was determined to find out. Right after he took care of his patient.

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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of Fox Television, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.

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Differential Diagnosis