My many thanks to Trinitas for editing this story and making it so much better!

Foreman looked at his desk. It had been a busy day - had he forgotten something? He considered, glanced at the clock - eleven-thirty. Whatever it was, it could wait until morning. He looked up and saw a familiar figure in the doorway.

Foreman took a deep breath, resisting the urge to tell Chase to go to hell - or even better, to fire him! Chase's sheepish smile, offering another truce, did the trick. Foreman shook his head, accepting the apology.

"Let's go somewhere, you need to relax after a hard day," Chase said, and went out to the corridor.

"Not all of us can put our jobs on hold and sleep in until noon." Foreman began to boil again. He slammed the glass door of his office shut and took a deep breath, locking it.

"What's the use of being dean if you can't take a day off every now and then?"

"I wouldn't be dean if I subscribed to House's model of professional 'growth.' You may have lost your sense of responsibility, but most of us here take patient safety seriously."

"I know you're mad at me," Chase said. "Keeping us all in line is your job. And my job is putting my patient ahead of the rules." Still maddeningly calm, he added, "Anyway, I got the diagnosis in time."

"And if you hadn't?" Foreman demanded, his voice rising.

They passed through the turnstiles, where for a second Foreman put on a mask of professional calm to say goodbye to the guard, who nodded respectfully in return. He'd worked here long enough that it wasn't the first time he'd seen Foreman and Chase argue.

"When your luck runs out and you kill a patient? Then what?" Foreman continued, when they were outside.

"It's not luck, Foreman," Chase replied, wrapping his coat tightly around himself. It was the middle of April, but the cold did not want to retreat.

"Of course not!" Foreman rolled his eyes. "I should've known you're incapable of screwing up."

"You know how diagnostics works. I don't need to explain it to you."

"Especially when it's not your ass on the line."

"It's my patient's. That comes first."

Silently they came to the bar. Foreman wondered how to get through to Chase. When they'd worked together, it'd been Foreman's job to discourage House's crazy behavior, and Chase's to go along with it. Now Chase was in charge of Diagnostics, and there was no way to rein him in. Threats to fire him would be useless - he'd just go off and surf, waiting for Foreman to call him back. Knowing that sooner or later, Foreman would have to call him back.

They sat in a booth and ordered a beer.

"You're much worse than House. People hated him and were ready to sell him out any minute. But you - everyone loves you and covers up for you. You do whatever crazy procedure you want, and your girls keep their mouths shut. I don't know what you've done to them." Foreman complained.

Chase smiled, pleased.

"At least I have a chance as long as there are men on staff. Women are powerless against you." Grinning, Foreman took a sip from his glass.

"If you want to know what I'm doing, why not come and ask me?"

"Are you kidding? When was the last time you told me the truth?"

"I tell you exactly what you need to know as dean of the hospital."

"And as dean of the hospital, I need to know everything you do!"

"We treat patients, that's all."

"Don't give me that, Chase. You said yourself - I know how it works." Bureaucracy could get tiresome - as dean, there were days he missed diagnostics and the ability to ignore all red tape - but the rules existedfor a reason. Without them, there would be chaos, and people would die in the hands of doctors who did whatever they pleased.

"Cuddy loved House, so she took all his crap. I have no reason to take yours!" Foreman laughed, emptying his glass.

"Sure you do - the hospital's reputation. First you wanted to become a great doctor, and now you're a great dean. But you need me to diagnose patients you can't," Chase said without a hint of mockery.

Foreman gave him a cold stare. He had nothing to answer - it was true. It had taken him a long time to understand that he wasn't like House or Chase. He wasn't an arrogant, heartless bastard.

Still, Chase's barb had hit a soft spot, but Foreman wasn't one to give up so easily. He wanted to prove that he was better, cleverer, than the Australian. It was him House entrusted with his secret, not Chase, and the last couple of beers made him think that Chase should know it.

"He's alive," he said, barely above a whisper.

"Who's alive? The patient? I know."

"No. House is alive."

Chase stared, disbelieving. "Don't joke. We were at his funeral!"

"Wilson had only a couple of months, and House wanted to be with him. He had no choice but to fake his death."

Chase froze, beginning to scroll through all the recent events in his head, and smiled as the puzzle took shape. There'd been a body found after the explosion, burnt beyond recognition; House would've had no problem switching the dental records and going into hiding. The weight of grief lifted - he'd never received such good news. House was alive! Now he just had to find him.

It was just like House to leave him a puzzle to solve after his death. Not real death, Chase corrected himself. It was a challenge, and Chase was ready to accept it. He'd worked with House nearly ten years. If that training was worth anything, if anyone could figure out where House had gone, he could.

Foreman watched as a Chase's faraway look was replaced by a satisfied smile.

"I hope you're not enough of an idiot to try hunting him down?" he asked carefully.

Only now he realized why House had told him and not Chase. He'd wanted someone to know who wouldn't think it was his business to go looking.

"Of course not," Chase said. "He obviously doesn't want to be found."

It's a translation of the first chapter of the same name story I'm writing right now on my native language. There are four chapters posted already, but English version will definitely go much slower.

If you like it, please, leave a comment, it will encourage me to translate faster.