Title: A Necessary Burden
Chapter 1 - Going Home?

Summary: AU After the events of 'Nobody's fault' Chase's father comes to see his son but when Chase wants him to stay and help his father tells him to fend for himself, forcing another would be father-figure to step up and help Chase with his recovery. Based on eppy 8.11 'Nobody's Fault'

Disclaimer: House MD and its characters are not mine any of the OC's are mine (names taken from a random name generator) any resemblance to any of my readers is by pure coincidence.

A/N: wow first post of the new year is in a brand new fandom for us! This is my first attempt at a House fanfiction. A dear friend begged for this and I couldn't say no (hmm I might learn my lesson if the story is lame!) I don't write medical drama stuff typically but have always enjoyed the show, my fave character being Dr. Robert Chase (am addicted to Jesse Spencer hehe) so this is a Chase/House drama and yes Rowan Chase is still alive b/c well I LOVE angst lol so this is AU (alternate universe) but NO SLASH (please do not ask for that) it will be a Father/son/friendship theme. I hope you all like this attempt.

Okay MF this is for you for the request and nudge and to Pallada for the help and encouragement!

He looks at the young man lying motionless in the bed on the other side of the glass and feels his face morph into a heavy frown; his body starting to sag heavily onto the piece of manicured wood beneath his right hand. So young…so vulnerable…so…so alone. Stabbed in the heart…nearly died…can't move legs…blood clot…successful removal…physiotherapy…hard work to get back to normal. My fault!

"You know you can go inside the room if you'd like," the soft voice of the nurse instantly send's House's narrowed gaze from watching Dr. Chase to glaring at her as if she had just grown a third eye that he just noticed.

"How do you know I'm not just inspecting the glass!" House lightly snaps as he pulls away and starts to slowly head back down the quiet hallway. However not going too far, he waits until the pesky nurse has returned to her duties, leaving him to his. Inner guilt had started to consume him the moment Dr. Adams shrill voice was heard shouting that Chase had been stabbed by his patient. But it wasn't until Chase was alone; everyone else having gone home, that he felt intense remorse, loneliness and guilt starting to consume him.

He's going to need a lot of help with the day to day stuff as he recovers.

"Good thing we have home care nurses for that," House huffs as he heads back to his office; wanting to get some paperwork done without the annoying interruptions that come during working hours. Just as he opens the last file Chase had been working on, his phone beeps with a new message, his eyes reading the few choice words and then narrowing.

'Was it his fault? Rowan'

"An obviously caring parent," House groans at the reply to his message that his son Robert had been stabbed by a patient. House leans back in his chair for a few moments, pondering a snarky comeback. But a few seconds later he's out of his chair and slowly heading back down the painfully familiar hallway, reaching Chase's room and this time hovering in the doorway. Progress, House's mind offers in silent sarcasm.

He looks at Chase's placid expression, offering a soft smirk at the rather boyish expression adorning his face as he sleeps in the rather large and uncomfortable bed. But as he looks at the monitors and knows the reason's Chase is in that bed in the first place, guilt starts to beat at him once more and he's forced to turn around without taking a step into forbidden territory.

"House."

The pleading tone was soft, almost a deft whisper but his ears could not mistake the all too familiar voice calling out his name; forcing him to freeze mid-stride. He grits his teeth and inwardly curses the fact that he nearly escaped emotionally unscathed but now might pay the price for his physical tardiness.

"Dr. Chase," House turns back, offering the formal greeting and hoping the young man gets the hint right off the bat that asking for favors is out of the question. He feels his entire frame seize as he nears the bed, looking at Chase with a heavy frown and hoping he have to stay long for fear he'll want to give in.

"No you cannot leave yet tonight."

"Glad you can see I'm preparing to run away right now," Chase replies back as he tries to swallow. "I just need a bit of water," he gestures to the fluid bag that had nearly gone dry and the empty cup on the small table beside the bed. "My throats dry."

"You can't drink."

"I just want to feel some inside my mouth."

"You can't."

"I can."

"You have a call button," House retorts and then backs down as he notices Chase's short lived elation drop to utter disappointment. "Hold on," he huffs as he turns and slowly heads toward the far end of the quiet recovery room. He fills up the cup and slowly ambles back, Chase trying to sit up a bit more but cursing the fact that his legs refuse to cooperate.

"You've just used up your three wishes," House smirks as he hands Chase the small cup. His eyes trail down Chase's blanket clad frame and rest on his legs as he tries to move them to a more comfortable position. "Better get on that physio or maybe you'll milk it as long as you can to get a few extra sponge baths?"

"Yes because I enjoy being a cripple!" Chase shouts and then quickly curses as he looks away; turning back to House with an angry expression that instantly turns apologetic. "House…oh go…"

"Just make sure you get on the recovery process as soon as possible. I'm too busy to interview right now," he replies in sarcasm as he turns to leave; Chase's head slumping back onto the pillow in remorseful frustration. He watches House disappear and then turns and looks at the clock and growls at the time, wishing more than anything that he could at least get up and walk around on his own. He thinks back a few seconds to his somewhat thoughtless remark in House's presence and can only growl at himself angrily.

"I'm sorry," he whispers in sorrow.

Chase allows his somewhat watery blue eyes to wander around the dimly lit recovery room and starts to feel his loneliness weighing a bit heavier upon his weary shoulders. He'd have to spend a few more days on the monitors and then…home…in a wheelchair? Would anyone be there to help? I don't need help, he inwardly insists. For a few seconds he considers calling his father; knowing that what the man lacks for in paternal affection, he makes up for in monetary compensation. Maybe daddy could get me a private housekeeper?

Crawling back to his father just for a few bucks cash to appease his own personal misery is the last thing he wants so with a heavy sigh he flips off the small overhead light and tries to settle back down; his mind determined to book the first follow-up appointment as soon as he's able; wanting to see how everything inside is healing and praying it's on target.

"Well that's a bust," House mutters as he closes the last file and prepares to leave, the reply message to Chase's father still blank as he wasn't able to come up with something that didn't include several choice expletives or a very harsh reply for which he's sure there'd be some repercussions.

"Poor kids been through enough," House mutters as he flips off the small light, bathing his office in darkness and turning his phone off; instantly killing the open reply message. He heads back down toward Chase's recovery room, wanting to make sure the nurse had replenished his fluid bag before heading home for the night for good.

"Good help is hard to find," House groans as he snaps the empty bag free of its clip and quietly makes his way toward the garbage can; wondering who had hired the nurse in the first place. But his mind is too distracted with wondering about the neglectful nurse that he fails to see a dark figure enter the room and near Chase's bed.

With the refill in his hand, House turns back and stops short. "Rowan," he hisses under his breath as he notices Chase's father hesitate before actually reaching out to touch his sleeping son and then quickly pull back and remain rigid.

"You don't need an enchanted kiss to wake him," House offers in a quiet tone as he nears the bed; Chase's eyes quickly fluttering open and looking first at House and then at the other man hovering close by.

"Dr. Chase?" The youngest male Chase member greets in surprise.

Dr. Chase? House's mind groans. What happened to hello daddy?

"Hello Robert," Rowan Chase greets his son a bit stiffly as he leans in a bit closer, seeming to inspect his son's chest wound. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine sir…father I…" Chase lightly stammers as he looks up at House; his warm blue eyes almost begging for some help. But this time none would be found.

"Well…this is filled back up," House hangs up the fluid bag and reattaches the clip leading into Chase's vein and steps back. "Goodnight."

"Dr. House," Rowan calls after House, forcing him to stop and turn back with a terse expression. "Anything else you want to tell me about this?"

"Your son's awake…ask him," House gestures with his head toward Chase's crestfallen expression; offering the young man a small frown before turning and leaving the area completely; disappearing from view. But allowing his curiosity to win out; House ducks behind a heavy curtain, hidden from view but within earshot.

"Dr. House left before he could tell me who was to blame for all this."

"I'm fine thanks for asking," Chase replies in sarcasm as he looks away.

"Want to tell me what happened? Your version?"

"Short story…I brought the wrong instruments into the room and was stabbed for my troubles."

"You did. You're lucky you weren't suspended for this."

"Are you serious?" Chase looks up in shock, his throat trying to swallow back an angry lump of emotion. "I nearly died yesterday and all you want to know if this was my fault? Fine…yes I brought this on myself…I wanted to get stabbed and nearly die all so that I could put to use the medical facilities I work for. Is that want you want to hear?"

"Don't get smart with me Robert, that's not like you," Rowan chides as he looks down at his son with a small glare. "I can see you have gone through quite the ordeal; what I would like to know is who's really responsible for you nearly dying."

"ME!" Chase shouts and then quickly lowers his voice as another recovering patient a few beds down utters a moan. "Who told you about this?"

"Dr. House. He told me you were stabbed in a medical altercation. What he failed to tell me that my son's foolhardy actions led to his…"

"I can't walk."

"What?"

"I can't…walk…well right now. I mean I will but I'm not fully…I just can't...right now," Chase utters with a small sniffle as his eyes water. House hears the torment in Chase's tone and feels his own stomach tighten and frown increase. "Does it matter now who's to blame?"

"It might. If you want to pre…"

"Does it!" Chase demands in heated anger.

"No I suppose it doesn't."

From behind the curtain, House listens to the silence grow and wants more than anything to walk into the room and pummel the elder Chase with his cane; wanting to yell at him that all his son wants is some paternal affection in a very tough time and to take him home and help with his recovery. But that wasn't to come, either scenario. I still want to hit him.

"Are you going to stay?" Chase asks weakly; his tone more that of a helpless child than an established doctor. But the hint of hope is quickly killed by his father's curt reply.

"Stay? Robert I can't stay you know that. Why would I stay?"

"Right…why would you," Chase replies with a teary gaze as he merely nods and swallows.

"No need to be emotional about it," Rowan fires back; forcing House to grit his teeth behind his carefully concealed hiding place. "You'll start to recover and then go to physio and then…I can't walk for you now can I? Course if you need me to hire a…"

"A what? A chauffeur!" Chase snaps before he settles back down. "I don't need a damn chauffeur, I want my father to help me after I nearly died. I can't walk and I don't want an impersonal housekeeper."

"You want someone personal to wait on you while you wallow around in a wheelchair? Is that it?" Rowan snaps.

"I was hoping you had come here to help me. Willingly."

"Still clinging to false hopes I see," Rowan sighs as House narrows his gaze behind the curtain. "How could I help you? You are surrounded by people paid to do that. I can't have another…"

"Am I only a burden to you? I want your…" Chase asks suddenly, forcing Rowan to stiffen in his small chair and look at his son with a somewhat cross expression.

"You sound like a whiny child right now. You are a grown man. You were dealt a setback by it seems your own doing…"

"So I make a mistake, nearly die and now I just have to pay for it with no…"

"You aren't paralyzed."

"I want you to stay," Chase lightly begs; his sorrowful gaze locking with his father's hardened one. "Please…please father…please stay," Chase begs, his lost voice forcing House's eyes to want to mist.

"I'll get you a housekeeper."

"Housekeeper?" Chase stammers.

"You expect me to stay and play nurse maid to you? Am sure you'd prefer a woman over me."

"I want you to…"

"Just tell me what you need me to take care of."

Him you idiot! House's mind inwardly groans. He wants you to take care of him! I really want to hit him now.

"I thought it would be obvious," Chase softly sighs. "Me."

"I'm not a maid but I can get…"

"Funny how I've always known your bank account better than even your favorite color. What is it by the way?"

"I see you need more rest. I'll send the housekeep…"

"I don't want one. I don't want your money."

"Well that's a first," Rowan retorts in sarcasm.

"Guess I've grown up."

"Call me if you change your mind," Rowan states as he slowly pushes himself up from the bed; Chase watching with a morose expression.

"Yes sir…" Chase whispers as he watches his father leave and then mutters an angry curse; turning his head away from the opening as his eyes water and a few soft tears slowly escape the corners of his tightly squeezed eyes and come to rest on the pillow. He turns back to the empty space and shakes his head; House remaining in place behind the curtain with his phone in hand; pulled and ready to call back Rowan Chase and if need browbeat him into helping his only son. But he knows that when it comes to anything remotely family related, Rowan Chase could not be blackmailed by guilt; he just didn't care as evidenced by his history with the Chase family; Robert especially.

Sir? More like dumbass…oh damn it Chase…

The next sounds of soft whimpers start to tug on House's heart strings forcing him to slightly bow his head and for a few seconds ponder going up to the young aussie's bed and offering him a kind sentiment in the wake of that emotionally devastating reunion; that he's now partly to blame for. I have to make this right. He'd call it pity and you refuse to pity him…how about compassion? You can show him that right? His brain suggests. Tomorrow.

Wanting to just drown out Chase's anguished sniffles, House pulls away from the curtain and slowly heads down the opposite hallway; Chase's remorseful expression haunting his every hobbled step. Damn you Rowan…why'd you even bother coming if you didn't really care and if you knew in advance you didn't really want to help? As he steps into the cool night air, House turns back and looks up at the floor that Chase is currently situated on and frowns heavily. It's just not right…all he wanted was a little fatherly reassurance and now…now he has to face this all alone. Are you sure alone?

"He'll be fine," House tries to convince himself as he heads for home, still muttering angry words at Rowan for so callously dismissing his son's current plight as a consequence of an action that wasn't calculated correctly. He enters his quiet apartment and looks around…a wheelchair would easily get around if he…he could…wait…you're pondering bringing Chase here? Really? You?

"Yeah…bad idea," House mutters to himself as he flips off the light and heads for his bedroom; his mind closing out the long day with the possibility of bringing the young man home until he was at least out of the chair and mobile. A few days at most…to hell with his father. I won't do it. James did it for you…damn it!

XXXXXXXX

Early the next morning Chase hears some soft shuffling and looks up to see House watching him. "Morning," he lightly croaks as he tries to quickly brush away a soft tear and swallow back any rising emotion. "Here to tell me I'm late?" He quips with a soft smirk.

"Yes now get your ass out of that bed and get to your clinic rounds," House deadpans as he takes a few steps closer. "Sleep well?"

"Not really," Chase replies with a strained tone and small cough. "Who can sleep in these places right?"

"At least your sense of humor is intact."

"Can't take a pill to cure that."

But when House doesn't respond further Chase turns back to see the older man looking down at him with an inspecting gaze. "What?"

"I'll get the nurse to fix this," House merely replies as he turns on his heel and starts leaves the room; Chase shaking his head and wanting nothing more than to get out of bed and throttle House with his two hands.

"House…"

"She'll be here soon."

As the nurse comes in to recheck his vitals, Chase can only lie there miserably and replay the whole sordid reunion with his father from the night before. Why did he even come…he knew he wasn't going to help…a housekeeper…I don't want his money…I just want…him…I don't want to face this alone.

The day passes by with horrible slowness for Chase as the others stop by to briefly chat but then go about their professional duties and then head home to their other lives; leaving him behind stuck in a smaller but private recovery room at Princeton-Plainsboro.

"My staying here another night was your doing," Chase states more than questions when House's reflection appears in the window; Chase's gaze fixed upon the very familiar silhouette.

"The night nurse needs practice and you need supervision," House replies in haste as he pulls Chase's chart and looks at it with interest.

"I'll live if that's what you're seeking. Has my father called you again?"

"Should he have?"

"He would press you for details on this since I never gave him any. Who did they say was to blame?"

"Is that relevant?" House counters.

"It is to me."

"Well then you need sleep; when you wake up it won't be. Goodnight."

"Damn you House just tell me!"

"You want to hear me say you're to blame then fine…"

"Say it! I want to hear you say it!" Chase demands as he glares at House with a heated expression.

"Ask me again tomorrow."

Chase can only grit his teeth as he watches House take his leave, his thumb pushing down on the call button before he utters an angry curse and House pops his head back into the room for a few brief seconds.

"I broke that one...on purpose. See you tomorrow."

Chase tosses the useless device onto the table and then looks down at his feet, willing them to just push the covers back and enable him to bolt for the door. His hands yank the blanket free; his brain inwardly yelling at his legs to swing over the edge and land on the floor. But he miscalculates his actions and ends up tumbling onto the floor, the tubing pulling free and the small rollaway table going crashing into the wall; his lips uttering a painful gasp as his recently operated on body starts to throb.

With an angry curse, Chase rolls onto his right side, praying for his knees to fold in front and allow him to just naturally push himself upright and get back to bed on his own. They don't.

"I can do…this," he grumbles as he tries to fight back a set of strong, supportive hands; finally looking up at House in shock.

"What are you doing on the floor in the first place," House grumbles as he tries to get Chase to at seated position. "Stop fighting me."

"I don't need…your help!" Chase snaps, forcing House to pull back and allow his frame to flop back down. Chase looks up with a narrowed gaze as House's arms fold across his chest.

"Fine. Clean that spot while you're at it."

"You'd leave me here?"

"You said you didn't need help."

Chase quickly grabs the side-rail of the bed just as the nurse rushes into the room only to be quickly shooed away by House.

"The sponge bath can wait."

"What do you want? To laugh at me like this? See what happens to those that defy you?"

"I don't enjoy laughing."

"Fine you get off on seeing me like this?"

"Crude but no this doesn't turn me on."

"What do you want then?" Chase demands in exasperation.

"For the record," House groans as he offers Chase's protesting hand a small swat and continues to help hoist him back into bed. "I am taking no delight in seeing you like this."

"You like…"

"Enough talk now…now it's time to rest," House insists as he pulls the blanket over Chase's frame once he's back in the small hospital bed; to which Chase pushes it away in defiance. "You can go home and rest tomorrow; if I say so."

"You're not…"

"Actually I am. Goodnight. This time for real."

Chase grits his teeth as he hears House telling the nurse that Chase needs his rest and isn't to be disturbed until the floor is on fire. He's done more than your father so far, his brain reminds him. No he hasn't…Chase tries to argue back.

"I'm stuck here," Chase verbally groans as he turns his head and looks out the window into the inky night sky; finally succumbing to the darkness and failing to see someone slip back into the room and pull the blanket back over his slightly shivering frame, whispering goodnight before disappearing until morning.

XXXXXXXX

To say he spent the next two days in contemplative misery was an understatement; House keeping everyone busy and Chase isolated and lonely. By the end of the week he's told he can finally go home and finish the rest of his recuperation there. Near the end of the day, Chase's eyes start to dart between the door and the clock nearly every five minutes; having called for a wheel chair just after lunch and being told one excuse or another as to the delay. Now it was almost dinner time.

"Surely it can't be delayed again?" Chase groans as a nurse walks by the hospital room. He would be going home tonight and the day after tomorrow was told his heart would have to get some solid rest; no real physical exertion for at least a few weeks and then if he was so allowed would be strong enough for him to start a very mild physiotherapy routine. The first set would see him working to strengthen his legs with some sitting exercises and then after that if he could, starting on the walking bars. The recovery process would be slow and frustrating and he didn't wish it on anyone; least of all a young man with a bright future ahead of him, like himself.

"That is if I can ever leave this damn place," Chase growls in a loud tone as he pauses and listens to the familiar squeak drawing closer. "It's about ti…" his words die out as a nurse rounds the corner with a wheelchair; House in tow. "Thanks for the escort but I can manage on my own," Chase remarks dryly as he pushes aside the nurse's attempts at helping him and manages to get himself into the hospital wheelchair and then looks up at the two people before him. "I'll sign the papers and be on my way."

Without missing a beat, House hands him a clipboard with his release documentation on it; watching as Chase signs it and then handing it to the nurse and sending her on her way. House steps back and allows Chase to push himself out of the room, heading toward the elevator.

"I don't need an escort," Chase huffs as he slowly wheels himself into the elevator and presses the G button, wanting to get to the ground level, get into a handicapped cap and just get home. And then what? Wallow? His brain jeers. Maybe for a day, Chase inwardly retorts.

"Any visitors today?"

"My father would sooner go to the bedside of a dying criminal than spend any more personal time with his own son. But you know that already don't you," Chase answers bitterly. They exit the elevator and head for the main exit doors; Chase spying a handicapped bus waiting by the door.

"Your chariot awaits," House states lightly, frowning when Chase doesn't retort back. "Extra bumps for this ride," House tells the driver to which he looks at House in shock and then down at Chase for an explanation as to the comment making fun of someone handicapped.

"He meant that for him not me."

"I'm getting back at him for the cripple comment," House looks at Chase and then the driver.

"He's coming too?" The clueless driver wonders.

"Uh no sorry…point missed," Chase frowns as he slowly wheels himself inside, not bothering to see House climbing in the bus behind him. It's not until the bus pulls away and Chase fails to see House heading back inside the entrance to Princeton-Plainsboro that he twists his head around to see House seated in the front of the bus.

"I never liked the back of the bus," House mentions matter of factly.

"I told you I don't need..."

"Give the driver a break, he's just doing his job," House retorts as he offers the poor bus driver a shrug and then turns back to see Chase slump back in defeat.

"Uh…this isn't…I live on the other side of the…" Chase calls out in agitation as he tries to turn himself around; the wheels getting stuck between the seat rows and rendering him helpless.

"You better get to walking soon, you suck at working that."

"Sorry to disappoint. Driver?"

"He knows where to go," House interjects in haste.

About ten minutes later Chase looks up in surprise to see another familiar establishment come in to view. "House?"

"Perfect, thank you," House thanks the driver and then stands up and walks toward the back of Chase's wheelchair. "You'll hafta help me out here."

"I'm not staying here."

"Well you're not going home alone either. Want me to take you back to the hospital? Or perhaps a shelter for the recently medically released? Maybe daddy can spring for room service at some swanky but impersonal hotel that could rent rooms by the hour?" House asks firmly as he looks down with an unwavering glare.

Realizing it was pointless to argue and not really wanting to go to a strange place alone, Chase merely shakes his head in defeat and thanks the driver, slowly pushing himself off the exit ramp and heading toward the front entrance to House's apartment building; House following behind. They enter in silence, heading for the elevator and riding up to House's floor without speaking a word.

"Look I don't want…"

"To face this alone, I know that. Am I right? Of course I am, that was rhetorical," House answers in haste, his words making Chase's face finally relax and a soft smile to caress his face. "Hungry?"

"Sure. Why did…" Chase replies with a heavy sigh, forcing House to pause in his tracks and look back in wonder. "It's nothing."

"I told your father because I thought he'd want to…"

"Step up and actually show me some fatherly affection? Hasn't yet but maybe me nearly getting killed might do the trick?"

"Something like that," House admits with a small nod.

"For a few brief seconds I thought that might happen also, but as soon as he spoke I knew it wasn't to be. He doesn't care."

"So I witnessed," House purses his lips; looking down at the young man before him in his tormented and rather helpless situation and feels heart sink. "So…dinner…"

"Look I don't want to be a burden. I'll just sta…"

"You are staying here until you can get up and walk out on your own. No point in arguing back," House states firmly but in a kind tone.

"I won't be walking very soon."

"The more you rest the faster you can leave here. End of discussion."

"Very well," Chase nods as he starts to pull off his jacket. He looks around the apartment and then down at the wheelchair and back up; noticing things had been moved to accommodate something the size of the apparatus he's in. Chase folds his jacket and places it on the nearest chair and then slowly moves himself toward the kitchen, already feeling tired from the day's events and wanting nothing more than to just get into whatever bed would be his and sleep without the sound of alarms, sirens or monitors going off every few minutes.

"Where will I be staying?"

"Third door down the hall…on the right," House directs as he looks at the items in the fridge turning back to see Chase wheeling himself out of the room.

Chase enters the modestly furnished room and then frowns as he notices a few rather familiar looking things; a few personal photographs, some clothing and…his shaving kit from his apartment. What? Chase's mind starts to contemplate as he realizes that part of the delay in his release was House getting this room ready for him to stay in. He did all this? For me? Really?

House waits a few minutes and then as quietly as he can, gets into the hallway and carefully follows, waiting for Chase to enter the sparse spare bedroom and look around. He decides to give the young man some extra privacy as he now wonders how Chase will fare having a shower on his own tomorrow. I'll get a bathing chair from the hospital…oh like they'll care one is missing, his mind ponders as his phone buzzes to life with a new text message.

House quickly reaches for it and then narrows his gaze once again at the name on the screen: 'Rowan Chase.'

"What now?" He grumbles as he opens the next message.

'Nobody's fault? Where is my son?'

'He entered rehab tonight. Goodbye.'

Where? Not how is my son? Could have at least asked how he is! "Insensitive bastard," House curses as he puts the phone down and goes in search of his new houseguest; ignoring the incoming call. He reaches the room, frowning at the silence before he pokes his head around the corner and frowns as he sees Chase trying once again to get himself up off the floor and onto the bed.

"You tried this charade earlier and failed. Lemme guess…you're an unemployed mop?"

"Funny," Chase deadpans as House takes a step forward. "I'm fine."

"Actually I came to check up on my floor," House shoots back, earning a frustrated glare from Chase. "You're lying."

"I don't need help."

"Yes you do…but this time you have to ask."

Chase looks up at House and once again sees the same caring concern he had in the hospital; a once fleeting moment a few days ago, now a lingering visual gesture. Maybe he really does care. And in that moment the words that Dr. Cofield had said to him in the recovery bed started to make even more sense and sound down further than he had first acknowledged.

"So…Dr. House's complete lack of concern is evidence of his deep concern?" In that moment Chase had nodded yes; to others it might have escaped their notice, but to him…having known House for so long it was now more and more obvious. Now asking for help felt comforting; especially knowing it was being offering willingly.

"Please?" Chase lightly begs for help after a few moments of silence; House not able to refuse this time as he steps in and helps hoist Chase onto the double bed in a seated position. "I just want to rest."

"Take your time, I gotta unthaw…something," House smirks as he picks up Chase's phone off the floor and looks at the picture on the display; obviously one uploaded from before of Chase and his father; Chase looking even younger and more innocent than he does now.

"What was the verdict?"

"Nobody's fault. They decided the stabbing was nobody's fault, but um…they were wrong. I'm sorry."

Chase looks up at the rare moment of regret and torment in House's eyes and feels himself nodding in acknowledgement. Chase leans back on the bed and reaches for the blanket, covering his legs and then looking at House with a somewhat defeated expression.

"So this is guilt then?"

"Guilt…pity…I was bored…make up whatever excuse you want. What I tell you won't matter now will it?"

"You told me the truth about the ruling."

"No I didn't, I spared your feelings. Someone was to blame they were just too stupid to see it," House huffs as he looks at Chase with a heavy frown.

"So I was partly to blame?"

"Partly? Why not. So then maybe this is guilt…maybe this is pity…maybe it's to get back at your father…or maybe it's because I actually do give a damn."

"Really?"

"Really. I didn't want you facing this alone. I've been here…there…you…facing this alone and it sucks," he states point blank. "I didn't want that for you."

"Thank you," Chase counters with a surprised but relieved tone.

"And for the record you are a burden…" House pauses in the doorway as he offers the younger man a rather cryptic smile, "a necessary burden," he concludes softly as Chase's lips curl into the first small but genuine smile of the day.

THE END? or...

A/N: Well how was it? lame? good? Do you want more?I really hope they were in character and you liked this even a little. I wasn't sure anyone would want more so I left it here but if you do then please let me know in your reveiw and I hope you all liked this and please do review before you go and let me know what you thought. Thanks so much!