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Cycle of Life
by AndreaLyn
Cameron's perfume lingered in the scents of jasmine and the heavy musk of sweetness and sorrow for three days after she quit, after she had picked up her last possessions from the office. She'd accepted a better fellowship in greener pastures. The day she left, she said goodbye to Chase last, hugging him tightly and whispering hot against his ear: "Don't stay too long."
That had been Chase's fourth year with House, stuck in perpetual inertia in the warm comfort of the halls of PPTH.
*
Applicants (as commentated by Greg House)
1. Chris Jenkins. Was almost a dentist. High on laughing gas if he thinks he's working here. REJECTED.
2. Starmoon Love Poppy. Hippie who thinks that all pain is of the mind. NEVER.
3. David Kent. Kissass without the redeeming intelligence. Plus, Chase thought he looked sleazy. REJECTED.
4. Miranda Kates. Hot. Smart. Not Wilson's type. HIRED.
*
Miranda, it turned out, wasn't Wilson's type at all. No, instead, she was Foreman's. It took her all of two weeks to make a move on Foreman and Foreman - not being a stupid man - said yes in a hurry when propositioned by five foot and nine inches of pure redheaded beauty. House resigned himself to accepting that his fellows were maybe bound to hop in the sack together every now and again.
Six months later, the unexpected happened. Foreman proposed and Miranda was quitting to preserve their "personal and work balance".
House was a fellow short again.
*
"Do you really think it's a good idea to do this?" Chase asked, arms crossed. He and House were looking in on the fishbowl of House's office where Wilson was sitting at House's desk and pretending (quite well) to be House. "You don't even get to meet them."
"That's the point," House said, tapping his cane lightly against Chase's calf, then stubbed the bottom of the cane on his toes. "Wilson picks the least annoying one for me."
"What if he picks the most annoying one, just to spite you?" Chase suggested dryly.
House just smirked. "Then Wilson gets a new fellow."
*
A year after Miranda quit and Nick DuFrey replaced her, Foreman was serving his two weeks notice. "Final order, huh?" Nick joked - said he wanted to be a comedian; oddly enough, House liked the guy's sense of humor. Besides the fact that he happened to be an excellent radiologist who liked bending the rules.
"Miranda's pregnant," Foreman announced in the voice of a happy father-in-training - all pride and purpose in his tone. "We're moving to the suburbs, going to start our own family practice."
Chase was trying his best not to look too disappointed. He'd got it in mind that Foreman might last another year at least. He himself was finishing off year five with House. "Congratulations," Chase offered sincerely.
"Whoa, too early, Rob," DuFrey snorted. "The kid might not inherit its mother's good looks. Then you'll have to give the kid your sympathies."
Foreman smirked. "I'll even hire a clown at the new office, just so I won't miss you too much," he promised DuFrey.
Before Foreman left for good, he dragged Chase aside. "What?" Chase prodded.
"Don't give me that. You know what I'm going to say," Foreman remarked. And there was the stern father-in-training, like he was going to have a daughter and he was already prepping to tell off boys who wanted in her skirt. "You're published, Chase, a few times over and you're sitting around here like House's lapdog still! You could have your pick of where you want to go."
Chase just shrugged, hands in the pockets of his labcoat. "Okay," he accepted. "I pick here."
"I never did get you, man," Foreman admitted, smiling ruefully and shaking his head.
Chase just smiled right back, the smile of understanding and friendship forged over long and difficult years. "Yeah," he laughed under his breath. "You never did."
*
The next round of interviews were so intricately set up that Chase wondered about what would happen if House devoted just half that energy into actually hiring someone. He was pacing around down the hall and his pager was in his palm. He had strict orders to interrupt with an emergency every time the pager went off.
The pager happened to buzz a lot.
He opened the door, a burst of energy. "Dr. House," he said, feigning panic - he was a terrible liar. There was a meek slip of a girl in the seat opposite of him. "The patient's crashing. We need you."
"Thank you, Nurse Chase," House said immediately.
Chase just rolled his eyes and stalked back off to wait in the wings.
*
The woman House had hired in Foreman's stead was gorgeous. She was tall and blonde and her name was Trish McCoy and she had a faint Irish accent in her voice. Lately, Chase spent most of his days crossing his legs.
But he didn't quit because he was in some dazed state of arousal all the time. It happened to be Nick who went next and not by choice. House's penchant for breaking into homes got Nick into some hot water with a patient who later sued for malpractice.
Nick left with a cardboard box of possessions and a dishonorable discharge to his name.
That was the end of Chase's seventh year with House.
*
It was Chase's thirty-fifth birthday and Wilson had gotten everyone together for drinks on his behalf. House had shown up, bitching about how he still couldn't find anyone he liked to fill Nick's position and that he would probably just stick with two fellows.
He was ranting all of this to Wilson, a monologue of chatter that seemed molded to be idolized, on and on and on, the way that only geniuses can talk so self-importantly.
Cameron and Foreman hadn't shown up, though they'd been invited. Family commitments for Foreman, and Cameron had a lecture to give. Chase sat, surrounded by hospital staff, and stared into his beer.
"...there was one promising doctor. Cardiologist. He used to be employed by Creedy, though, and I'm not sure I want to promote that kind of..."
"I'm quitting," Chase said suddenly, brow furrowed. Everyone shut up quickly, but it was only House that Chase looked at. He was thirty-five and he was still working as a diagnostician, nine years after he'd started. He couldn't work a decade with House. He just couldn't.
"You what?" House snapped.
Chase blinked. "I quit," he said, with certainty.
It was Cuddy who finally spoke after the awkward pause dragged itself into a long, even more awkward moment. "About damn time."
*
Chase visited House after he'd quit, going on to write a book about his father, dabbling in the world of publishing. House had three fellows still; Trish, the new cardiologist, and an easy-going Australian doctor who specialized in oncology.
Chase just grinned when he realized House had hired another guy from Melbourne.
House had simply shrugged. "Your own fault. I just can't go without that jolly British accent to get me through the days." Chase was pleased, really, and felt assured that no matter how much things changed, they were always going to be the same.
THE END
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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 NBC/Universal, 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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