Vicious Intent

By Wyndhamfan

Notes: This is my first House fanfic. Now, I must say that writing House fanfic is ... damn difficult! The kind of research you have to do. OMG. Still, despite all the research, I'm pretty sure I didn't get everything right, so to medically-inclined people out there, apologies if I got anything wrong. But I still had fun writing this, so if you love Chase torture, I mean, Chase-centric stories, here you are. (I think there aren't enough out there!)

Spoilers: Takes place after the third season episode "Finding Judas".

Disclaimers: House and all the characters in the marvelous medical show does not belong to me, and I'm not earning a penny from this fanfic. Yup.

Chapter 1

The waitress appraised him frankly. Her dusky brown eyes lingered on his face, then traveled to his chest, as if studying the quality of his rumpled shirt. Then, she met his eyes and lifted an amused eyebrow.

"Well, that's weird," she drawled in her low, husky voice.

Chase fixed an empty gaze on the brunette.

"Weird?" he asked, barely interested to know what she meant.

"That's your fifth glass of soda for the night. Usually, when a banged-up guy comes to a bar he wants to get drunk. But I think your drug of choice is sugar," she said, amused.

"Being drunk is a novelty I'm not interested in," he muttered as he took another sip from his glass. "Seen it far too many times. Been on the receiving end of it more times than that."

The waitress cocked her head to one side.

"You work at the hospital, don't you?"

He shrugged.

"Yeah, he does," said a gruff voice to his right.

Surprised, Chase turned to see a man, whose features were hidden in the dark corner he'd chosen to sit in, studying him.

"You work for that House person," said the stranger.

Chase turned away irritably. It seemed that he couldn't escape that name even here.

"He's a good doc," said the man.

He let out a bitter laugh.

"Yeah, he's a corker," he said.

"A what?"

"Never mind," he muttered. Yanks, he thought.

"Guess you got the short end of the stick today, didn't you?"

"Look-" Chase began with a firm intention to tell the man to stick it, but before he could do so, the stranger gestured at the waitress and said: "The next soda's on me, Susan."

And the next thing he knew, he was talking to the man. And as he downed the drink that the man bought for him, he was surprised to know how much he knew about House.

"I've been following his work. Impressive," said the man levelly.

Chase knew that he was right, but he didn't feel like being part of the "rah-rah House" team tonight, so he kept silent.

"But I know he's also a fucking pain in the ass," drawled the man a few moments later.

Chase looked up in surprise and grinned despite his sour mood.

"Personal experience?" he asked. He couldn't help but be intrigued by the man's implied relationship with House.

The stranger grinned, his pearly whites the only thing Chase could see of his features.

"Like you wouldn't believe," the man said and raised his glass. "Here's to class-A jerks," he said.

Hesitantly, Chase clinked glasses with the stranger. After downing their drinks, the man reached into his pocked and took out a silver flask.

"Now, let's try something stronger, shall we?"

o O o O o

7am. It has been one and a and half hours since House rudely paged them out of bed, but he was no where to be seen. Not that he cared that they were dragged out of bed unceremoniously at 5.30am, thought Foreman as he twiddled with his pen. Nope, House had his own set of rules.

"You think he's okay?" Cameron murmured, her gaze fixed vacantly at the empty white board.

"Why shouldn't he be?" Foreman didn't have to be a psychic to know who "he" was. It was Cameron and her incessant concern for a man who didn't deserve her care.

"One word: Tritter," she said, giving him a look.

"Oh, that," but Foreman didn't offer anything beyond that. Instead, he said: "Did you hear?"

Cameron frowned at the change of topic. "Hear what?"

"House hit Chase last night," he grinned at that.

"What?" she exclaimed in surprise.

"Everybody saw it. What, you didn't know?" Foreman said with feigned surprise. "Man, you have to hang around the water cooler more often," he said giving her a big grin.

"How can you find this funny?" Cameron snapped indignantly.

"How can it not be funny? House finally hits Chase for what we all know he did."

Cameron sighed. "We still am not sure-"

"It's funny you're defending him. Believe me, he did. He's a survivor, a self-preserving creature of instinct – he knows what he has to do to survive," he said.

Cameron supressed the wave of anger she felt. He wasn't sure what she was angry at, however. Whether it was Foreman, who was enjoying Chase's apparent betrayal or Chase turning on House. Again.

Cameron sighed and leaned her forehead against a hand. Sometimes she wondered why she hung on to this job, what with a boss with a drug problem, manipulative idiots like Tritter who got in their way of doing their jobs and traitorous colleagues.

"What are we going to do?" she sighed.

"Besides making Tritter disappear? Nothing," Foreman said.

The door to the office suddenly slammed open and House strode in with his backpack nearly falling off his shoulder.

"Cases? Anyone?" he yelled.

"Wait, I thought you called us in because we have a case," Foreman said indignantly.

"Aw shucks, did I? Sorry, what I meant to say was ... yes, we do have a case. Just wanted to see how you reacted," House said, grinning as he deposited his bag unceremoniously on his table.

Foreman scowled. "I don't need your jokes at 7am, House," he grumbled.

"Is it true?" Cameron demanded.

"What? That I'm smarter than all of you combined? All true," he said.

"That you hit Chase," she said, her voice dripping with accusation.

"Aw, did he came crying to you? Was he sad?" House put on a mock sad face.

"Crying? I'd rather die than shed a tear over your misreable carcass," came a slurred reply.

All heads turned to the door where Chase stood in the same rumpled suit he wore yesterday and looking as if he crawled out of something unhealthy.

"Dramatic, much?" House said sardonically.

Chase took a step forward – or tried too. His knees wobbled, and if it weren't for a conveniently placed chair nearby, his knees would've probably given out.

"Screw you, House," he growled.

Cameron wrinkled her nose when she caught whiff of alcohol and exclaimed: "Are you drunk?"

Foreman looked at House, then at Chase, and then grinned. The drama that began last night had taken and even more interesting turn.

House threw Cameron and Foreman a look. "And they say that I have a problem," he said.

"Did Cuddy see you?" Cameron demanded of Chase.

Chase blinked and looked drunkenly around until he found Cameron.

"What? I'm not drunk!" he slurred in reply.

Cameron shot him a look of disbelief mixed with disgust.

"What you have,is a 'problem'," said House, who made open quotation marks with his hands.

"You're the one to talk," he slurred. Then Chase burst into giggles.

Foreman grinned wider.

"Stop enjoying this," Cameron hissed at the neurologist.

"Try stop me," he replied, his eyes still on House and the barely-standing Chase.

Chase swayed precariously. "He said he will not stop until you realise ...," he blinked as he trailed off, then he frowned and shook his head. "My head hurts," he muttered.

House, however, didn't look amused nor did he look impressed. He was, interestingly enough, silent as he looked at Chase with an unreadable expression.

"So, you did rat him out," said Foreman.

Cameron's expression became incredulous and she shifted her glare to Chase.

Chase stared at his colleagues, who were both studying him with various levels of disgust and (for Foreman) amusement, and suddenly felt an overwhelming wave of anger.

"And why shouldn't I?" he snarled. Then just as quickly he burst out laughing. "What do I owe a sanctimonious bitch, a grinning idiot and an egoistic monster?"

Foreman's grin faltered.

"Do I get to be a sanctimonious bitch?" House asked, giving Cameron a pleading look.

Chase looked away, and he suddenly looked confused.

"Where am I?" he whispered. Then, without warning, his eyes rolled up into his head and he fell unceremoniously on the floor.

Cameron and Foreman stared in shock at the now-unconscious Chase. House, however, merely stepped over his prone body and began writing on the white board.

"Now that we've gotten our morning entertainment, let me introduce you to Pauline Worthington..."