Title: The Test of the Insane Madman who Lives Upstairs

or B&E

Author: puppylover6511

Prompt: prompt #50- Chase's first break & entry, with one of the previous fellows.

Rating: PG (Seriously)

Character(s)/Pairing(s): House, Chase

Warnings: Tiny Deviation from prompt. I'm sorry don't hurt me! (

Disclaimer: Damn, the fun I would have if Chase was mine!

Summary: I know I already wrote an interview story, but the fic just kinda came out this way. It felt better without one of the previous fellows, I'm sorry. ( I don't actually know where the psych ward is and I really don't know if the medical info at the end is wrong. I got it off of ran ran into the lobby of PPTH late one winter morning. Several nurses stopped to stare at him as he blew past. After all, he was not yet Dr. Chase, duckling and lapdog of the insane madman who lives upstairs, Dr. Gregory House. To them, he was just a not quite normal patient disturbing the peace of the crisp morning before the afternoon crush. Many tried to stop him and ask whether he'd signed in yet. One particularly annoyed doctor told him that the psychiatric ward was on the third floor. Chase's only response was a hurried yell behind him: "Sorry, can't talk. I'm late!"

He was a whirlwind of blonde hair, flying from its usually pristine and fixed position on his head. His bag trailed behind him, trying to keep up and failing miserably. He pushed the button for the elevator several times, bouncing up and down on the spot, muttering to himself. This just attracted more stares. Eventually, the elevator came and he slipped in, along with four other people. Who just happened to be stopping at the third floor. Chase wondered distractedly which ones would be checking in permanently. When the elevator finally reached the fourth floor, he dashed out into the hallway and hurriedly followed the signs to Dr. Gregory House's office.

Chase stopped right outside the door, taking a moment to compose himself. He pushed it open, an excuse disguised as an apology already on his lips. No, he hadn't forgotten to set his alarm and overslept on the day of his interview, he just got caught in some very bad traffic. It didn't matter that he was supposed to be there at nine and it was now eleven thirty! He stopped, mouth open as he looked into the room. The words died in his throat. In the middle of the office stood a whiteboard, with a message scrawled on it.

"Hello new interviewee who I will probably refuse to hire!

Be at 32 Burrwood Drive, 12:00, or face the consequences."

Chase leaned heavily against the door and moaned, before quickly turning around and dashing out the door.

Chase made good time crossing town, and managed to get to the indicated home by five minutes to twelve. He had gotten a variety of rude gesture and words, and had almost gotten a speeding ticket, but he'd made it in time. Half an hour later, a car pulled up behind his, and a tall man with a cane stepped out. From the disheveled appearance and limping gait, Chase surmised that this was Dr. House. He got out of his car to greet him. The man took one look at Chase and snorted.

"Looks like someone overslept," he said with a sing-song ring to his voice. Chase stopped and looked at him, confused. Surely this man was not one to judge others on their appearance? So maybe he looked a bit wind-blown from rushing, but Dr. House looked like he'd been dragged through a hedge backward. House pointed to the building behind him.

"That is the home of my current patient. Her symptoms are nausea and vomiting, swollen lymph nodes, and pain in the lumbar region. I also had to stop her bleeding after fifteen minutes on two bleeding time tests. For your interview, you have five minutes to go into her house and find reasonable evidence for your proposed diagnosis. Go, Now."

Chase stared at him for a moment, before turning and walking quickly toward the house. He turned the handle to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. He pivoted back around,

"It's locked!" He yelled across the street. The man called back with a slightly malicious grin on his face.

"So? Find another way in!" Chase shook his head in disbelief before quietly grumbling to himself and jogging around the side of the house.

Eventually he found an open window and climbed in. Doing so, he nearly broke the porcelain vase on the small table underneath the window. Chase carefully jumped over it, muttering about stupid places to put valuable objects, and began to move through the house. He started with the sorting the trash, and as he did, he thought about what would cause the patients symptoms. It was completely unhelpful that Dr. House hadn't told him the results of any tests run. He was just placing an already decomposing head of cabbage in one pile, when he suddenly stopped. He smiled, got to his feet, and headed assuredly into the bathroom.

Dr. House leaned against his car, outside the patient's home. It had been two minutes, and the young man hadn't screwed anything up yet. House wasn't sure if this was a good sign. He sighed. There was about three minutes left until he could be back on his way to Cuddy, preparing to once again shove a gleefully rejected resume into his boss' face. Or chest. Either way, House got to avoid hiring another team and that was good enough for him. He chuckled contentedly. Then at the three-minute mark, the unexpected happened. He heard a door close as the blonde man sauntered out of the house, hands empty. He walked across the street, grinning. This looked like trouble.

House turned his best disdainful glare at him as he approached, but it made no difference and the blonde stopped in front of him. House raised one eyebrow in expectation.

"Well?" he said. "Where's your evidence?" He looked up to the sky.

"Would it be wishful thinking to say he has none?" He called upwards. When he looked back down, one blonde brow was raised, and there was an inquisitive look on man's face.

"What? I can talk to God too you know." House said. "Now, what's your diagnosis and how are you going to back it up if you have nothing with you?" The young doctor smiled again. From his pocket he withdrew a thin pill bottle.

"She's allergic to Phenytoin. Found it in her bathroom. It's newly prescribed as of three days ago. She probably just started taking it. Side effects are dizziness, anemia and low platelet count, swelling of the lymph nodes and osteomalacia. The dizziness caused her nausea and vomiting, the low platelet count explains her trouble clotting. The swollen lymph nodes is a direct side affect and Phenytoin's interference with Vitamin D metabolism caused the pain in her back, one of the first symptoms of osteomalacia. There's your evidence, Dr. House." Chase said this all with a smug little grin on his face. The corner of House's mouth twitched, and his eyes looked over Chase once more. In the back of his mind, he felt a small disappointment that he wouldn't get to provoke Cuddy on his return to the hospital, but it was overshadowed by satisfaction. If he was going to have to take a new team, he would only take those who passed his tests, and the Australian Intensivist had definitely passed.

"Good enough. Get back to the hospital and put our patient on Cyclizine for the nausea and Vitamin D supplements. You'll find her in the ICU under the name Joyce Fairfield. I'll be seeing you Monday." House got back into his car and drove away. Chase leaned back against the trunk of his car and smiled. He had a feeling he'd be having a good time in New Jersey.