Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The fact that House willingly hired a fellow was interesting.

That was, of course, off-set by the accompanying information that the new hire was an omega. A man. Rare enough that you could take the population of a state like New Jersey, sift through it and only find around ten male omegas. From what Wilson heard along the hospital grapevine, the omega was young, attractive and unattached. So, in a way, it made sense that House had gotten it in his twisted mind to hire someone of this designation and description. Wilson was already counting down the days until the poor thing filed a sexual harassment lawsuit against the hospital.

Still, he should do something about it. Try to convince his friend to handle the omega with the care he deserved. Hammering into House’s thick skull that while all his other snide comments could be tolerated because of his effectiveness, it was not a “power move” to humiliate an employee of this particular background. 

It was annoying that thinking about House could summon him. That afternoon, his friend yanked open the door to his office like he owned the whole space. His patient, a mated omega, wrinkled her nose at the intrusion. Wilson was thinking about doing the same. 

“I’m with a patient,” Wilson said instead, an involuntary crease forming between his eyebrows. "Get out."

“Well, she’s not dying right now, is she?” House said. “I need your advice on something.”

“Excuse me, Mrs. Mortimer,” Wilson said to his patient, who looked between him and House, before nodding in a resigned manner. “Make it quick- you don’t have a monopoly on my time.”

“Oh, I do,” House said with a smug smirk that would make a less patient man than Wilson want to punch his lights out. “And eventually, you’ll stop trying to make me stop bothering you. All it takes is for you to accept me as I am.”

“If I go all in, you’ll walk all over me, and I’m already your biggest enabler,” Wilson said, making House frown mockingly at him. “What goes on in my office could be a matter of life and death.”

“Please, as if a cancer patient will drop dead immediately inside your office. Usually it takes a bit longer than that. My interruption is barely a drop in the ocean of time Mrs. Pancreatic Cancer has left.”

“I’m giving you two minutes. What’s your problem du jour?”

“What’s the recommended dosage of O-factnisone?”

“Twice a day,” Wilson replied automatically. His first wife was an omega who took that brand of suppressants before they were married and mated. It was one of the strongest on the market.

“And if you mix it with a Methodril injection?”

“Mixing two types of medication that is counterproductive isn’t recommended unless you want to poison someone’s blood,” Wilson said, scanning his friend’s face carefully. House looked impassive as always, though leaned heavily against his cane. “But you knew that already.”

“Could you take something to counteract the symptoms of poisoning?”

“Hmm,” Wilson hummed in thought. “Maybe Nicoterol to control the effects. It’s risky and the long-term effects are unpredictable. I’ve heard of it being used by omegas in the military or, you know-“ he dropped his voice to a whisper. “The CIA.”

“Everyone knows there aren’t any omegas in the CIA,” House said loudly, causing a few people to stare as they walked past. “It would go against the machismo American Alphas sacrifice their lives for.”

“Is this really about the CIA’s hiring policies, or is it about the newest addition to your department?"

"I see you couldn't wait to start the inquisition. You may begin, Sir," House said with a theatrical wave of his hand. 

"How did you get Cuddy’s approval?”

“You make me sound like I don’t care about the fragile sex at all. I’m just as committed to affirmative action as the Big Boss with the Biggest Ass.”

“Simply by referring to them as the weaker sex proves my point. Wait, did you pick the omega to make a point to Cuddy?”

Wilson thought back to the last kerfuffle House and the hospital administrator had gotten into. Something about her being sick receiving complaints regarding House’s lack of empathy and casual cruelty towards nurses and junior doctors assigned to help him. He had made one doctor because she couldn’t diagnose something as obscure as Baylisascaris from early symptoms like nausea and liver enlargement. That doctor was an Alpha. 

“She thinks that spending time alongside an innocent omega would tame the big bad Alpha- referring to myself, of course-” As if there could be any doubt, Wilson thought and prayed for patience. “Mellow me out. Make me easier to control. Bring out my caring side.”

He said the last part with a sneer. Although Wilson was a beta and couldn’t smell any changes in pheromones being released, he could tell that House was upset. Begging the question of why he accepted an omega into his department when there were hundreds of qualified doctors out there who sent in their resumes. Why didn’t he throw out this one?

“I sincerely doubt that,” Wilson recalled how his friend had treated Stacy after his leg operation. If anything, House’s poor opinion of omegas had exacerbated and would bring out the opposite of his caring side- if it existed in the first place. “You won’t ever change because you want to prove Cuddy wrong but listen to me. Be a mentor. He must’ve gotten through more barriers than you and I ever will to find his way into your department.”

“He’s more pampered than we'll ever be and doesn’t deserve special treatment because he’s more likely to burst into tears when a patient pukes blood on him. The omega doesn’t need someone to hold his hand; he needs an iron fist.”

“What-” Wilson barely started his question before House looked down at his watch.

“Time’s up,” House said with another patience-testing smirk. “I’m ushering in a progressive era for this hospital. Have fun with Cancer Patient One Trillion.”

“You let House, of all people, hire an omega?”

“First of all, his name is Doctor Robert Chase,” Cuddy said calmly, not glancing up from her computer screen. “Second of all, he refused to hire anyone but Doctor Chase. I had to approve it. Last of all, what happened to knocking before coming in? Is House rubbing off on you?”

“Sorry, I’m simply concerned about this whole situation,” Wilson said, coming to a stop before the large desk before continuing. Surely Cuddy will agree that House made a potentially damaging decision for his career and the hospital. “House will destroy him.”

“What makes you think Doctor Chase can’t handle the pressure?”

“Because he’s House!” Wilson threw his arms into the air. Cuddy finally raised her head to send him a withering look. “He pushes people past the point of breaking. He’s not shy about finding out and using the worst parts of a person as leverage. No one can put up with his abuse disguised as some sort of hazing ritual for long. You’ll be better off hiring Alphas.”

“You’re implying he broke you?”

“He’s my friend. We’re peers. It’s different,” Wilson said, though it didn’t look like Cuddy was convinced. “Doctor Chase is his employee. He’s an omega under the command of an Alpha. They’re scientifically more sensitive to emotions and susceptible to instructions. That makes him vulnerable to going along with whatever outrageous tasks House asks him to do.”

“You’re saying House will create an environment that’s uncomfortable for juniors.”

“That’s putting it nicely. He will destroy him,” Wilson repeated with feeling. “You’re making a mistake.”

“You’re assuming that omegas don’t have free will. That Doctor Chase doesn’t have a backbone.”

“No,” Wilson shook his head. “No, House might have mated with an omega once, but he broke the bond. He’s not in the right emotional state to be in the company of another one so soon. Doesn’t matter if the omega tries to stand up for himself at all. It will only make House more eager to either hurt the omega until he quits or is fired when he makes a mistake.”

“Thank you for the impromptu psych profile,” Cuddy deadpanned. “Can you please look beyond the fact that Doctor Chase is an omega? He’s a trained intensivist and surgeon and passed House’s ritualistic interview.”

“He did?” House’s interviewing process was, if one was forced to put it diplomatically, eccentric. Mostly involving a rapid-fire differential in high-pressure situations like him shooting the interviewee with a paintball gun for every wrong answer. “Also, I could look beyond the fact that his junior is an omega, but can House?”

Cuddy had no answer for him. She sighed deeply.

Wilson hastily changed the subject. “So, you trust him with this?”

“I trust that he knows if he runs a department consisting of more than one doctor, including himself, he’ll get a decent raise.”

“And a shiny new toy to play with.”

“I’m not sending Doctor Chase into a torture chamber, Wilson. It’s only House.”

Wilson swallowed a retort along the lines of ‘your flippancy will come back and bite you in the ass’ and said quietly. “I tried to warn you.”

“Warning acknowledged,” Cuddy replied coolly, turning back to her desktop monitor.

Wilson entered House’s office the next morning, expecting to find his new employee but the place was empty. A fresh case for the two of them, with the symptoms written on the whiteboard. He took a quick note of them (dislocated shoulder, bruises, joint pain - something neurological?) and decided to continue his search for Doctor Chase later.

“Poor thing,” One of the nurses on shift, Tania, said in a voice reserved for cooing over puppies and kittens when he asked her for Doctor Chase’s whereabouts. “Doctor House had him monitoring the patient for the whole night. He’s probably still with him.”

Wilson then checked the patient’s room, which was empty except for a copy of the chart. His next meeting was in ten minutes so if he hurried, he might catch Chase in the MRI room.

That room was also empty and when he asked the radiologist on duty, the man replied that Chase had gone off to find House to deliver the results of the MRI. Wilson was far too busy to even attempt to track down House in the hospital. He’ll just have to let his friend come to him and gloat about how he was wearing down his ‘underling’. It was awful to imagine House doing something as insensitive as asking Wilson to bet on whether Chase could survive the full week without quitting.

Brenda from the HR department walked up to him as he was waiting for the elevator back to his office. “You wanted Doctor Chase’s file?”  

“I never asked for it and now you deliver it to me by hand,” Wilson took the thin file from her. “Thanks anyway.”

“You should be thanking Doctor Cuddy,” Brenda smiled at him like she knew something he didn’t. 

He raised his eyebrows. “She thinks I’m being nosy? Is she preempting my nosing around? I’m only interested in House’s business because he makes it my business.”

Brenda shrugged vaguely and walked away.

Wilson opened the file and Doctor Chase’s employee ID photo immediately caught his eye. The long hair and trying-too-hard-to-be-serious frown made him appear alarmingly young. If House wanted fresh meat, Cuddy had served it to him on a silver platter. 

Near the end of the day, just as he was wrapping up his last report, someone knocked on the door.

That ruled out House.

“Come in,” Wilson said.

The door opened with a click and a young man entered. He was slim and carried himself gracefully- the mark of a well-bred omega, if one still carried those old-fashioned notions of what made a 'proper' omega. 

“I’m Doctor Chase,” the younger doctor greeted and smiled prettily, holding out his hand. 

“James Wilson,” Wilson stood and shook it carefully. Chase’s skin was warm and soft. Another sign that he was a healthy specimen of his secondary gender. House would probably make fun of that. Call him spoiled and make him do acid tests without gloves to ruin it.

“Yeah, I guessed from the name on the door,” Chase said teasingly. Wilson huffed in embarrassment and gave the younger man a critical once-over. 

Wilson had only met two male omegas since starting his practice and each of them were attractive in their own way. Even so, Chase stood out, like he was painted in brighter colours than the rest of the world. Despite the ugly brown shirt and dull gray tie combination, he possessed the sort of natural beauty typically associated with his gender. And that air of innocence shining through his easy smile and bright-eyed gaze was hard to replicate. His appeal must be even more difficult to resist for Alphas. Wilson was comfortably straight and happily married but for a moment, he did wonder…

“Do I pass muster?” Chase asked, interrupting Wilson’s inappropriate train of thought.

“I’m in no position to comment. I haven’t seen you at work yet.”

“We’ll see each other more often since you’re Doctor House’s friend. His only friend, if I’m correct,” Wilson didn’t bother objecting to that. “Thought I’d come around and introduce myself.”

“Good luck with him,” Wilson said and after a pause, asked. “Actually, he hasn’t tried anything, has he?”

That was the wrong thing to say, because the omega’s lips pressed instantly into a thin line and his eyes flashed. “I hope you’re not gearing up to ask me why I was hired by him.”

“I am curious,” Wilson admitted. “House never does anything without a reason.”

“And because I’m an omega, you conclude there’s only one possible reason for him to hire me.”

“Has he hit on you?”

Chase hesitated to answer, which told Wilson all he needed to know. 

Wilson charged onwards, though with a reminder to himself to be gentle. “House treats everything like a game. Like it or not, by accepting this job offer, you’ve become a player or a piece on his chessboard. As a player, you’re at a disadvantage because you’re not as skilled as him. You’ll need to keep up with someone who doesn’t want to teach by the book and mocks your every move. As a pawn, well, my guess is he hired you to prove to Cuddy that he can’t be ‘gentled’ by an omega. He doesn't make hiring decisions on merit.”

Chase’s nostrils flared and suddenly his eyes took on a glassy sheen. Shit, Wilson thought to himself, I’m as bad as House. 

“Thanks for the advice,” the omega said, visibly pulling himself together. “I’ve got thick skin so I reckon I’ll be alright.”

“I’m sure you will,” Wilson said and moved around the desk to give Chase a soft pat on the shoulder. “It'll get better."

“Joint pain, bruises, and now a fever, all from resetting a dislocated shoulder,” Wilson stopped in his tracks at the sound of symptoms being listed out. He was this close to leaving the hospital and going home to spend a night in with Bonnie.

“Don’t you have a fellow to help you with that? Why are you still at work?”

“I sent that hot piece of ass-” Wilson cringed at the choice of words. “To do an intestine biopsy. He thinks it’s Whipple’s.”

“And you don’t?”

“I’ve decided to let him figure it out for the time being. He’s about as useful as a piece of furniture.”

“Don’t speak like that unless you want to set the omega rights movement back fifty years,” Wilson sighed. “Give him time.”

“He’s got a week.”

“Excellent,” Wilson said sarcastically. “A whole week to impress you.”

“I’ve made a bet with Cuddy. A hundred bucks says he won’t last till the end of the week.”

“She bet against him?”

“I saw through her feeble attempt at reverse psychology. The terms say that he must quit voluntarily, so…” House trailed off, looking at Wilson expectantly. 

“You’re trying to make him look back in front of Cuddy so she’ll fire him?”

“Close, but no cigar,” House said and infuriatingly did not elaborate. Instead, he switched the subject. “Dinner with the wife?”

“That’s what married men like to do after work. Preferably some time within the next few hours.”

“She’s cooking?”

“We both are, actually.”

House made a noise of contemplation. 

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You can’t see problems where there are none. You’re misreading my marriage. We’re happy as we are.”

“You don’t like sharing the kitchen. You’re overcompensating for not spending time with her. Going through a rough patch on the fertility front?”

“House,” Wilson said, taking a step forward. “We’re happy.”

“Excuse me,” an accented voice interrupted their conversation. It was Chase, standing slightly slouched, looking directly at House. Having faded into the background, Wilson looked at him carefully, noting the rumpled outfit and the beginnings of shadows under his eyes. “She doesn’t have Whipple’s. It might be genetic.”

“Like?”

“Joint hypermobility syndrome. She’s got flexible joints. Bruises easily.”

“Otherwise known as Ehlers-Danlos syndrome.”

“There’s no diagnostic test for it.”

“But?” House prompted, leaning forward into the omega’s personal space.

Chase tensed slightly and said. “I’ll do a physical examination.”

House tilted his head, signaling approval, but Chase got a thoughtful look in his eyes. “Doesn’t explain the fever. Maybe something autoimmune from dislocating her shoulder.”

“Like?”

“She could have rheumatoid arthritis?”

“Test for both. And try to have an answer ready instead of a category. It’s not your second year of med school.”

Chase nodded tightly and turned to leave. Wilson watched his friend’s gaze wander from Chase’s head of golden hair down to his ass. 

“Could you be any less subtle?” He said sternly. 

“Hard to take your eyes off him,” House said with a faked tone of wistfulness. “I might just develop a taste for blonds.”

“He’s your employee,” Wilson said in an exasperated voice. Then he paused, taking in House’s backpack. “Did you want to walk me to my car?”

“I hope you brought enough food for four,” House said and limped ahead. “Papa’s got a big appetite.”

Wilson rolled his eyes skyward. He needed to start setting boundaries like Bonnie’s therapist had recommended. 

“He knew you had a bet with Cuddy?” Wilson asked his friend on Friday afternoon, when Chase hadn’t quit or been fired.

“Cuddy caved. She probably took one look at his big watery eyes and agreed to sign over the whole hospital.”

“And what did he do with that information?”

“Bartered with me.”

“Oh no, House,” Wilson felt disappointed. “Don’t tell me you slept with him.”

“Why do you always think the worst of me? He could’ve slept with me .”

At that, Wilson exhaled with some relief. “Those are semantics. What did you really do?”

“He told me you’ve been keeping a secret from me. Marriage counseling.”

“Did he offer to spy on me for you?”

“He stole your shrink’s notebook.”

"Did he give it back?"

"He gave me a scanned copy."

“Is there anything kids won’t do these days for a job? No line they wouldn’t cross?” Wilson scoffed and held up a finger before House could open his mouth. “Not a word out of you.”

“Bought him another week.”

Wilson recalled the way Chase had smiled with all his teeth in his office. Intelligent enough to pass the interview, flexible enough when it came to rules to not lose House’s favour and having the self-preservation instincts necessary to protect his job. If Chase wasn't his employee, he might've been a perfect match for House. That did not bode well for any of them.

He gave one more futile warning. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Was the scathing reply. 

Once his friend had limped out of sight, Wilson rubbed the bridge of his nose, hoping to massage the stress away. At least I tried. 

Chapter Text

When Rowan heard the news that Gregory House was accepting applications for his department, he immediately contacted the hospital administrator. He had met Doctor Cuddy a handful of times during his stint as a visiting professor at Princeton and found her to be a serious, career-driven woman.

“I want you to put my son’s name in front of Doctor House,” he said over the long-distance call.

“Respectfully, Doctor Chase, no one tells House what to do. We take a hands-off approach to his department and that includes hiring decisions."

“Surely he doesn't mind the hospital being hands-on once in a while?”

“You’ve never met him?”

“Not that I’m aware of, but I'm impressed by his results. He has the reputation of being the best in America in this field.”

“Best in the world, according to him.”

She sounded sarcastic over the phone, which Rowan ignored. 

“Robert will be useful to him. Top marks in medical school. He’s an intensivist and also nearly done with the Mayo Clinic's surgical training program. Any doctor would be grateful to have him on their team.”

“Have you heard of his other reputation? House is intense and borderline sociopathic,” Cuddy said, a little muffled like she was holding back a sigh. “Book smarts aren’t enough to win him over. He likes someone he can bounce ideas off of but he doesn’t run his department as a democracy. And if Robert's too ambitious, he’ll definitely be knocked around by House.”

“Robert can problem-solve and he's quick on his feet in an OR. I’ve been told by his supervisor that he’s a ‘people person’. Persuade Doctor House to conduct an interview with him and the rest will fall into place.”

There was a crackling, static-like noise before Cuddy replied. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“One more thing,” Rowan said, pausing briefly before continuing. “Robert is an omega. Do you foresee any issues with this?”

“House got divorced a few months ago. He’s an Alpha recovering from a severed bond with a huge chip on his shoulder,” Cuddy replied bluntly, as though she wanted to make the prospect of working with the best diagnostician in the country unappealing. She then asked sharply. “Is your son having difficulty finding another job because of his gender?”

“There was a minor incident at his current workplace,” Bad enough to send him running back to his father after a few years of radio silence. “He deserves a change in scenery.”

“House could cause a different minor incident. He’s very unpredictable.”

“He’s never gotten into trouble of that sort.”

“It's because he’s never had an omega on his team. We've never been stupid enough to put him in the same room as one. A male one, at that,” Another pause. “I’d happily ask the ICU or the surgical department if they have openings. He's got the right skillset to be a better fit there.”

Rowan did not personally call her just for his son to end up in departments found in every other hospital. “The work won’t be as rewarding.”

Cuddy scoffed lightly. “I’ve never heard anyone describe working under House as ‘rewarding’. Back-breaking doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

She wasn’t doing a good job of selling the hospital, though he could excuse it if she thought they were close enough for her to give it to him straight. Rowan tucked his free hand into his pocket, searching for a cigarette. “I’ll send you his resume, if he hasn’t already.”

“Very well,” He realised that the crackling was Cuddy sighing heavily. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

After hanging up, Rowan takes an indulgent puff of his cigarette, closing his eyes as the smoke warmed his body. He’ll only be there temporarily. Robert might even learn a thing or two about handling difficult Alphas and how to avoid future incidents. 

He heard from Doctor Cuddy personally that Robert got the job. Her summary of the interview did raise his eyebrows by an inch or so (completing a DDX in under five minutes while the interviewer pushed a Camaro past 70 miles per hour around a racetrack was unorthodox- he’d been under the impression that Doctor House was disabled). At least there hadn’t been any mentions of impropriety. It would damage his own reputation if there was a story circulating that his omega son had to exchange sexual favours with a senior doctor for a job. 

“Rowan,” Cuddy said near the end of their conversation. Rowan was familiar with this. He had patients who waited until they were nearly out the door to ask a burning question or deliver an important piece of information. “I met your son when he came in to sign the contract. He’s very attractive.”

Rowan was used to receiving compliments about Robert’s looks, mostly from Alphas who wanted their sons to court him. A credit to his beautiful omega mother, who fortunately did not pass on her less desirable parts to their child. It seemed like Cuddy thought it was a problem.

“You believe Doctor House will behave inappropriately.”

“I know he will. The things that come out of his mouth gives plenty of material for people to take him to court.”

“Do you give him that much free rein in your hospital?”

“It’s the best way to get results. He solves cases no one else can. The trade-off is giving him some freedom to reach the solution.”

Whatever she thought was best.

“To speak freely with you, Lisa,” It felt comfortable to use first names with each other, especially since she helped Robert get his foot in the door. “My son has never expressed interest in a single Alpha. He’s turned down twenty marriage proposals that I know of.”

“Really?” Now she sounded fascinated. 

“He will have no trouble resisting Doctor House’s advances. And the language that will be thrown around is nothing new to him. He will take it in stride and in time, Doctor House will lose interest.”

Did that shock her? That was an alarmingly long pause. 

“You’re expecting House to get bored?”

“I suppose you’re assuming that Alphas like to go after the most stubborn ones,” Rowan said, stroking his chin in thought. “But I have faith that Robert’s self-control is stronger than Doctor House’s desire to ‘taste forbidden fruit’, as it were.”

Cuddy's curiosity probably didn't end at that point. Betas were always quite nosy about the affairs of Alphas and omegas, being on the outside looking in. Rowan was grateful that she ended the call right there. 

His son rarely called him and Rowan also never had the time to keep in contact with Robert. If his daughter didn’t pass on information from her half-brother, they might have gotten away with becoming perfect strangers. 

Robert had once run away to an isolated seminary school in England, breaking an engagement to an Alpha from a powerful political family in the process, leaving Rowan to pick up the pieces. He then quit that school to start a degree in medicine. With a recommendation letter from his father, he had gotten into the best medical school in Australia that would otherwise have rejected an omega applicant who had completed finishing school without a SSCE. Meanwhile, his daughter, Jessica, had been in and out of rehab since she was sixteen and currently four months sober. There was a fair chance it might not stick again. If his children had ever over-achieved in one thing, it was creating problems for the family.

“Robbie called. Said he’s doing alright,” Jess told him over the phone. 

He could hear the clatter of pots and pans in the background. She was either cooking or searching for something in the kitchen. Given her poor cooking skills, it was probably the latter. He hoped it wasn’t for a bottle of gin. 

It had been more than half a year since Robert had joined House’s team. 

“His boss hired two other doctors,” she continued.

“Are they getting along well?”

“He says they’re all Alphas.”

That didn’t answer his question.

“I see,” Rowan said and mustered up the enthusiasm to ask Jess questions about her AA meetings and job search process. He couldn't bring himself to admit that he spoke with her so frequently because she was his one connection to Robert. That would be playing favourites. 

He finally gave in to his curiosity and phoned Cuddy a few days after his talk with Jess.

“What you’re doing is called ‘helicopter parenting’,” she said, an annoyed note in her voice once he explained his concern to her. “I’ve never encountered a more serious case where the child is a fully functioning doctor. I’ve already helped your son the best I can. It’s not up to me to dictate who can or can’t join House’s team after that.”

Rowan’s eyes slid shut as he began to formulate a response. He had been unusually tired lately, which he’ll mention it to his GP at his check-up next week. 

“You’ve already been a great help to my family,” he said, aiming to start politely. “Do understand that from my point of view as a parent, Robert is working closely with three unmated Alphas, who have periodic ruts. You told me of Doctor’s House’s intensity and the hostile work environment he creates. Such an uneven ratio without a beta to mediate is a recipe for disaster.”

“What happened to your faith in his ability to resist advances?” 

“It has been brought to my attention—” He said, hiding how his pride had stung when his partner and Jessica’s mother, Mia, told him there were two sides to each issue. “- that I should also be expecting Alphas to control themselves in the workplace as well.”

“Welcome to the 21st Century, Rowan. You’re finally catching up.”

Rowan let out a small huff of embarrassment. “Indeed I am.”

“Honestly, from what I’ve observed, everyone's getting along with your son,” Cuddy said. “He’s sweet with the nurses and good with patients. Cameron and Foreman, the other two fellows, don’t seem to care that they’re working with an omega. House is as expected but not nearly as bad as he could be. No major disasters have happened yet.”

“That’s a relief to hear,” Rowan nodded to himself. He wanted to ask about Robert’s progress. Cuddy not directly bringing his actual work performance confirmed his growing suspicion that he was not the best of the batch. Being unable to overcome his baser instincts, Robert would likely be drawn to the most senior Alpha in the room and agree with House’s every suggestion. That was a common remark other doctors made to Rowan when he asked after his son. He was eager to please, which allowed him to pick up surgical techniques with ease and excel in the practical side of medicine, but might hold him back in a more creative field like diagnostics. 

“But of course, that’s what I see. If you want a clearer picture of what goes on in that department, talk to your son.”

“I will,” It was a hollow promise, even to his ears. “Thanks for the chat."

“Any time.”

Terminal lung cancer . 

Rowan prided himself on being a rational man. Putting mind over matter. Nothing would ever shake his iron grip on his mind and body. To be given such a diagnosis from the best oncologist in Australia after coughing non-stop during grand rounds changed everything. 

His body felt like it had been drained of energy so as he sat motionlessly in his office chair, he made a list of things to do in his head. He had many affairs to settle, with the will being his top priority. There was no history of cancer in his paternal line. He had expected to live as long as his father, who was a religious smoker, had, to the grand age of eighty-seven. In one instant, he had little over three months left.

His gaze wandered to the framed photographs on his desk. Mia and Jessica beaming next to him, taken at his partner’s most recent birthday. They actually resembled a family, with dark hair and handsome features. He’ll have to find a way to break the news to them. 

His eyes automatically drifted to his picture of Robert. His son wore a somewhat thunderous expression, like he either resented having the photo taken or the photographer herself. Rowan remembered Mia giving it to him after he had to miss his son’s graduation and slipping it over an older photo. He’d never seen the point in replacing it all those years. After his mother died, that was Robert’s default expression whenever they were face-to-face.

He reached out to take it and clicked open the back of the frame. He’d kept the original picture out of sentiment. Robert and his mother, Louisa. Two golden beauties, posing for Rowan’s film camera. If one looked closely, they could see the faded bite mark on Louisa’s throat. Rowan’s own was unmarked as it was the day he was born and it would never change. He'd go to the grave without the scar of a mating bite. 

“Can you find out when the next SLE conference is?” Rowan asked his secretary. It was one of the conferences held near Princeton-Plainsboro that a rheumatologist of his stature could attend without drawing suspicion. “And book me an appointment at Sloan-Kettering. Ask for Doctor Chowdhury.”

Rowan had very low expectations when he opened the glass door to the diagnostics department.

He had counted how long it had been since they'd seen each other. Perhaps over two and a half years since Robert’s last visit to Melbourne. They both stopped in their tracks. His son’s eyes widened at the sight of him, like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“Doctor Chase,” Rowan said, allowing a small smile to cross his lips. “You have a few moments?”

“Sorry, I’ve got to go,” his son’s face went carefully blank. Rowan stepped aside without protest to let him pass and watched him go. With a large leather jacket on, he appeared broader than he actually was. Robert looked younger than he thought he would after two years, his cheeks still holding onto the last of his teenage puppy fat. 

“These modern omegas,” the other man in the room said. It must be House. Rowan took a discreet sniff of the conference room while turning to face him. An Alpha who didn’t bother to wear any blockers. His strong smell reminded him of gasoline, like you could light a match next to the man and set him on fire. Robert, on the other hand, had smelled of nothing, a result of dousing himself with blockers since he was fifteen. “It’s like they don’t care about people. No manners.”

Rowan took in the man who limped closer to him. Perhaps if Doctor House stood without slouching, they would be around the same height. He was unshaven, his shirt unbuttoned low enough to show part of a band logo on the t-shirt he was wearing, and spoke with a grating American accent. Unprofessional in appearance, yet renowned for his brilliance. He had little evidence of what type of Alpha his son was attracted to, but Rowan would be surprised if he was it. 

“My fault, probably,” he said with a self-deprecating quirk to his mouth before turning his head to the open door, debating if he should follow Robert.

He looked back when House spoke again. “That’s an interesting accent you have there. I’d say Czech, with about thirty years of Aussie.”

“You have a good ear,” Rowan said before moving to leave the room.

“You’re Chase’s dad,” House said. Rowan looked back again and they stared each other down. Had it been any other Alpha speaking to him in this tone, Rowan would rightly clock them as an arrogant arse and knock them down a peg or two. It was unfortunate that they were roughly of the same maturity and held similar positions of power. “Hard to miss, you know, the big hug and how happy he was to see you.”

The way the man then sipped his coffee and smiled in a self-satisfied manner that got on Rowan’s nerves, though he maintained a carefully-crafted, friendly expression. 

He could catch up with Robert later. First, he had this man to deal with. 

“Doctor House,” Rowan began. “From what I’ve heard of your abilities of deduction, no doubt you have already formed a presumption of the nature of my relationship with Robert.”

“His daddy issues are hard to miss. Very useful, so thank you for that.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You should’ve seen him the other day. Couldn’t wait to lend this old man a hand,” House waggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

Years of hospital politicking kept his pleasant expression from slipping after he digested this lewd remark. “I hope you keep such comments to yourself in a work environment.”

“That’s against my freedom of speech. And in case you’re wondering, a work environment isn't complete without a flustered and defensive omega. You should be extremely proud that he’s the poster child for ‘not safe for work’ behaviour, with him being nearly thirty-years-old and tragically single.”

“You’ve got a mouth on you,” Rowan said with his jaw clenched. Had this man ever attended a sexual harassment seminar? He’d sent his only son into the lion’s den the moment he made the first call to Cuddy. 

“So does your son. It's pretty and pink and I’ve been thinking about how to best put it to work,” House smirked. Rowan stiffened. The other Alpha was getting closer. By invading Rowan’s personal space he was practically begging to be punched in the face. “Too bad he looks like I’ll have to teach him step-by-step and I’m not the kind to go easy on the pure and chaste ,” he made the last word sound like Rowan’s family name. “You’ve never had a go at it yourself?”

Rowan took a deep and calming breath, letting the wave of anger pass through him. House was referring to the ancient practice of incest between an Alpha parent and an omega child to help them through the latter’s first heat. After that, the omega’s next heat would be spent with their Alpha husband or wife. Bringing that up already made him the rudest person Rowan ever had the displeasure of meeting.

“You are very vulgar.”

“And you are very calm for someone whose son is being insulted,” House glanced down at Rowan’s tightly-clenched fist. “I suspect you pack a real punch, should you care to try it out against a cripple.”

“I will now forget this whole conversation,” Rowan said with a low warning tone in his voice. “You want the reason I am here visiting my son. There’s no need to provoke me.”

House’s gaze flickered to Rowan’s throat before looking up again. “Would you have given me a straight answer, Alpha-to-Alpha?”

Rowan shook his head. “Not after meeting you, Doctor House.”

House’s eyes gleamed with something rather sinister. He took a step back.

“Are you free to stop by for a consult tomorrow? Patient has a rash after consorting with some ghosts in an abandoned house. Could be auto-immune.”

Rowan had lived long enough to be able to tell when he was extended an invitation to enter a game. House was dangling an excuse for him to return to the hospital and see his son. 

“I’ll free up my schedule,” he said and quickly stepped out of the room. If House made one more comment about his son, he would not be able to stop himself. 

His conversation with Doctor Wilson was more fruitful, in that it only confirmed the worst. There was no cure for such an advanced stage of lung cancer. He had three months left. 

“I’m sorry,” the oncologist said, like it was his fault Rowan had cancer. He had kind brown eyes and a trustworthy face, looking the part of a doctor whose job was to deliver more bad news than good to his patients. Rowan did not know whether to trust the rumour that he was friends with House. They were complete opposites. 

He decided to ask- he was already dying. Such a direct question could be excused. 

“Are you close to Doctor House?”

“Yes I am,” Wilson said without hesitation and then amended. “Well, I like to believe we are. He needs a friend.”

“I had a rather interesting conversation with him.”

“I apologise for whatever he said,” Wilson sighed, leaning back in his chair. “He’s never been house-trained.”

Rowan would have smiled at the pun if he had the capacity to feel happiness after another bad prognosis. 

“You’re not meant to take it seriously.”

“Is that what you think?”

Wilson flashed him a charmingly crooked smile. “Can’t help but take it seriously.”

“Ah,” Rowan said. “At least you have the benefit of being on the same footing.”

“If you’re worried about your son, what you have to understand is that House has a few lines he wouldn’t cross.”

“I am glad he’s willing to draw the line at rape,” Rowan deadpanned. “I’m sure he can do this job without behaving so rudely.”

Wilson snorted. “You’re more likely to get a pig to fly.”

An odd English saying. He thought of Louisa and her Australianisms. He’d been fresh off the plane in Sydney when he met her. In her prime, she was the loveliest omega he’d ever seen in his life, and a breath of fresh air after spending years in the countryside of Czechoslovakia, surrounded by the sturdy bodies of farmers’ daughters. His English had been terrible and he had to strain to understand her but language barrier didn’t make him less attracted to her. He wanted to listen to her all day, like the sound of her describing a day at the beach was his favourite song. 

“Doctor Chase,” Wilson said. Rowan blinked and straightened in his chair. “Do you have any further questions relating to lung cancer?”

“No, I don’t. Thank you for your time, Doctor,” Rowan stood and offered his hand to the other man. 

Wilson shook it and Rowan got the sense he was debating whether or not to tell him something. He gave the beta a look that hopefully conveyed ‘if you have anything to say, you best say it now ’. 

“It’s about your son.”

Apparently he was getting everyone’s opinion of Robert without actually talking to him today. 

“House is rude to all his fellows. To everyone he meets. It’s part of his unique thinking process,” At Rowan’s unamused face, Wilson hastily backtracked. “Not everyone could pull off being an asshole who’s right all the time— and that’s definitely not an excuse. Please be assured that he doesn’t single out Doctor Chase, um, Robert, for the sake of it. It might even motivate your son to prove that he’s more than what House says he is.”

Rowan did not know how to respond except with: “Don’t tell him I’m sick.”

Wilson nodded solemnly. 

The next afternoon Rowan found himself back in the glass-walled office, brewing a cup of earl grey while one of House’s fellows- the woman, Cameron- delivered the latest updates on the young patient’s condition. Robert had not spoken a word to him and eyed him like a cornered dog. 

Rowan attempted to start a conversation with him about the medicine, which was a neutral topic. “Boy gets anthrax, but happens to be allergic to two antibiotics. Hate to step on anybody’s toes, but is it possible that your guys got this one wrong?”

Robert almost immediately went against him. “The rash is classic anthrax.”

“Except the colour,” Rowan pushed back.

Cameron took his side. “The rash hasn’t turned black yet. No necrosis, no anthrax.”

A sensible woman.

His son didn’t give up and refused to avert his gaze from Rowan. “Necrosis can theoretically take as long as two weeks.” 

Being part of this team had changed Robert. He spoke more confidently, even as he defended the wrong solution. Rowan leaned back to consider his son, who stood a little straighter and narrowed his eyes at his father. Oh, if only you had been an Alpha . 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” House’s irritating accented voice interrupted Rowan mid-sip. The way he sat with his cane resting against his shoulder, slouched in his chair, would’ve given Rowan’s straitlaced Alpha grandfather an aneurysm. “Guys, it’s not a competition. It’s a diagnosis.”

The older doctor walked right up to stand behind Robert. A part of him wanted to push that awful man away from his son, but it seemed like Robert was used to this borderline inappropriate behaviour. Clearly his finishing school etiquette lessons had been forgotten as soon as he graduated. “Okay, who thinks Junior wins?”

House raised his hand and let it hover over Robert’s head. His son, for his part, finally looked away from Rowan, likely in shame. Perhaps this was House’s game, to deepen the divide between them, in order to uncover their family secrets. 

“Four to one, it’s anthrax,” House and Robert turn their heads to look at each other at the same time. There was a short but loaded pause. The stench of gasoline sharpened, hinting at the Alpha’s interest. Did House have the audacity to look at Robert’s lips? It was as though they weren’t working in an office with their colleagues and Robert’s own father. 

House moved away to stand in front of the ridiculous glass board that listed all the symptoms. “So we start over, what’s changed? What do the nodules tell us?”

“Sarcoidosis,” Rowan replied, confident in his answer. 

“Excellent,” House said. “Send an ACE level. If it comes back positive, put him on methotrexate.”

Rowan noted Robert’s slight pout when House agreed with him instead. He wanted to reach a hand out and pull him aside for a quick word, but his son brushed past him without a backwards glance. 

Cameron and Foreman shared a look before following suit. She seemed far more concerned than her male colleague. Rowan was left with House, the last person in the hospital he wanted to be with. 

“I always tell him he’s wrong to see that,” House said and pushed his mouth into an exaggerated pout. “He makes it really easy, of course.”  

Rowan didn’t dignify that with a response. 

The patient had necrosis. That was what Cameron hurriedly explained to him as they collectively walked back into the diagnostics department office. 

“It’s definitely anthrax, and it definitely can’t be anthrax,” Foreman had an infectious air of frustration. “It doesn’t cause throat nodules.”

Rowan followed him inside. “The only explanation is this kid has got anthrax and sarcoidosis!”

His son immediately refuted him, hands on his hips. “Right, two incredibly rare diseases just happening to strike at once.”

“Unless you’ve got a better theory,” Rowan said.

Robert was quick to answer. “Anthrax plus an allergic reaction.”

“Call the Lancet, because that’s one bizarre allergic reaction.”

“Come on, there’s no reason you both can’t be wrong,” Father and son turned to look at him in unison. “It’s not an allergy, but it’s not a coincidence, either. Disease number one set off disease number two.”

Robert tilted his head, while Cameron said, “Anthrax weakened his immune system.”

“And triggered a dormant sarcoidosis,” Rowan nodded approvingly at House’s attempt to compromise. “Keep him on antibiotics for the anthrax and start him on methotrexate for the sarcoidosis.”

“Fine,” Robert said coldly with a shrug and stalked out of the office. His son really didn’t want to speak to him. 

Cameron and Foreman looked at each other, feeling the tension in the air. This time Foreman actually had a more worried gaze than Cameron. 

House cocked his head in the direction of the door. “Better go with him. Make sure he doesn’t snap and hurt somebody.”

If Rowan had nothing but dislike for the man, he rather enjoyed participating in the diagnostic method being used. It was exhilarating to be surrounded by young, high-calibre doctors, each defending their own theory. The back-and-forth generated energy that made him feel more alive than he had since receiving his diagnosis. 

If Robert could keep up in this room, he was on his way to developing the instincts of a great doctor. The one thing that distracted him in the same room, however, was House. 

This was what was on his mind as Rowan ate his breakfast, waiting for House and his team to come in. He heard them before he could see them, animatedly discussing the newest symptoms in the corridor. 

He picked up a piece of broccoli with his fork just as Foreman and Cameron finished their hypothesising. There was one fellow missing from the trio. “Where’s Robert?”

Another pointed look between the two fellows, which seemed to reflect a common sentiment whenever his son was mentioned. 

“Uh, he has clinic duty this morning.”

House looked at Cameron before meeting Rowan’s steady gaze. “No, he doesn’t. I rescheduled you guys so you’d be free —”

“Yeah, but he re-rescheduled himself,” Cameron said guiltily, like she was revealing a dark secret. It might as well be, because House’s face contorted into something that was more contemplation than surprise. 

The second time Rowan was in the room observing Robert interact with his boss, he wondered if he had misread their relationship. His son spoke mostly to House, trying to win him over to his rather far-fetched idea of a neurological problem. In turn, the older man didn’t make any eyebrow-raising and pearl-clutching comments about Chase’s gender. Perhaps he had been overthinking the entire situation and House had merely spoken out of turn to get a rise out of him yesterday. He acted quite the opposite when among his fellows. Either that, or he was putting on a good show when Rowan and the two other fellows were around.  

This was what was on his mind when he stopped outside the doors to Cuddy's office.

“She’s got around five minutes,” her secretary informed him. “You can go in now.”

“Rowan,” Cuddy smiled warmly at him when he entered. “It’s great that you found the time to stop by.”

“Hello, Lisa. Please don’t get up for me,” Rowan replied with a small smile. “I won’t take up too much of your time.”

“Better you than House,” Cuddy said and laughed to herself. 

“How have you been?”

In the back of his mind, he knew it was going to be the last time they would see each other. 

“Very busy. And yourself?”

Dying . 

“Busy as well.”

Cuddy smiled, though this one was more subdued. “Now that you’ve met House, you can see why I didn't want to put your son's name on his desk for his consideration."

“I wish I had listened to you.”

“House is… difficult.”

“But?”

Cuddy quirked an eyebrow. Rowan smiled slightly at her and said. “I’ve heard this particular opinion a few times since arriving here. People close to him are willing to acknowledge the pricklier parts of his personality yet do nothing to improve it.”

“House is House,” Cuddy said, like it answered everything, and gestured at the open chair in front of her desk. Rowan took a seat. “How’s the current case going?”

“I do believe Robert is contesting the majority opinion because I am in agreement with it. Without me to distract him, he might have a more objective view.”

“And what about House?”

“I don't know what he wants from my son," he admitted. "I find it hard to understand him.”

“Don’t we all,” Cuddy murmured. She had some beauty of her own, Rowan noted, with striking features and shrewd blue eyes. He’d never seen a hospital administrator or dean of medicine carry off such a low-cut blouse. If he’d never met her, he’d assume she was an Alpha like him.

“Has he made sexual comments to you?”

“House? All the time,” Cuddy huffed, thankfully unoffended by the question. “Sometimes I think he’s being serious but he really can’t help it.”

“So he plays with your emotions?”

Cuddy shook her head firmly. 

“It’s just the way he is. You get used to it, over time, until he manages to top that. He's an acquired taste."

"Is it physical attraction?"

"He's a single Alpha approaching middle age. He's attracted to anything that moves."

"I see."

That was worrying. 

Cuddy gave him a cautious look and broke the silence. “May I ask what happened at Chase’s previous workplace?”

“I’m certain he would not wish me to tell you the whole story, or at least, everything he could bring himself to say to me,” Rowan crossed his arms. “Suffice to say there are some Alphas who say disparaging comments, dismissing omegas at the workplace, and those who act on them. Doctor House may be rude beyond question, but he is not the most unforgivable of his kind.”

She looked shocked. “Those aren’t very high standards.”

“This is an industry where three generations ago, an omega practitioner was unheard of. Robert cannot hold standards that are any higher when progress is slow.”

"And you sent him to work with House."

"Most of the other administrators in the area of the Mayo Clinic refused to give him an interview. Apparently he'd been branded a 'risk' to Alphas in the workplace."

“How awful,” Cuddy looked indignant on Robert's behalf. "He can work here as long as he wants. I promise I'll keep an eye on him. He'll always have an out if he needs one."

“Thank you for that," Rowan smiled at her. Despite her positive opinion of House, she was a 'ripper', as Chase's mother would say. "Allow me to return the favour. I’ll be your tour guide if you ever visit Sydney."

He stood and she did the same. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a patient to check on.”

Cuddy couldn't resist making one final comment. “Chase really doesn’t look like you.”

The answer came easily to him. He had given the same one many times over the years. “He takes after his mother, while his half-sister takes after me.”

“Followed you right into medicine though. Not an easy path for him.”

“Well,” Rowan said and paused before going on. “It was either that or marriage.”

Cuddy’s mouth formed a round ‘O’ of surprise before she recovered with a slightly awkward smile. 

They shook hands amicably- Rowan kissed her on both cheeks the way his father would with his mother's friends- and that was it. 

Rowan butted heads with his son once more after Robert discovered that he had extubated the teenage boy. In reality, he felt like his heart wasn’t in curing the poor boy. He’d like just one conversation with his son that didn’t pull them further apart before he left the States. 

“I miss you,” he said sincerely once they were outside the room. 

Robert didn’t react the way Rowan would’ve liked him to. A complicated expression crossed his face. One Rowan couldn’t read. His heart twisted slightly in his chest. He didn’t even know his own son. 

“I was fifteen years old when you walked out,” Robert said, lips set in a harsh, unforgiving line. “Now you want to walk back in?”

“I left your mother,” Rowan said. To his own ears, he sounded regretful. “I didn’t leave you.”

“Yeah, like setting me up with all those Alphas made my life any better,” Robert spat out the word ‘Alpha’ as though it left a bad taste in his mouth. 

Rowan frowned at him. “I made life as easy for you as possible.”

His son turned his face away to compose himself before glaring at him, eyes blazing. “And Mum? She was living off gin and tonics, how was I supposed to take care of her?”

“She wasn’t your responsibility.”

“I know!” Robert snapped and lowered his voice. “She was yours.” 

Rowan realised that the sheen in his eyes were unshed tears. He sounded exactly like— like the way he did when Rowan received a call at 5 am and was greeted by the cries of his son in hysterics. In that moment, Rowan wished he could teleport across the Pacific Ocean to comfort him and dry his tears. Instead, he had swallowed his anger towards the apathetic hospital administration at the Mayo Clinic and asked his son to calm down. It wasn't his style to offer comfort to his children, only solutions. 

He tried to comfort him now. “I’m sorry she died. I’m sorry you had to deal with that. But she was falling apart long before —”

“I’ve got to talk to House about this treatment,” Robert said curtly and turned on his heel. 

Rowan inhaled deeply, hit with a sudden craving for a self-destructive cigarette. Was I doomed to always say the wrong thing when it came to Robert?

He should’ve known that House was up to something the whole time. 

“Going back to the conference?”

Rowan glanced back to see the other man limping up to come to a stop in front of him. 

“Afternoon panel,” he lied smoothly. “I hope I don’t fall asleep.”

House narrowed his eyes. “I hope you can get in. You’re not registered. I get it. You had to make up a lie. Can’t just tell your kid you’re here to see him. What father does that? That little blue dot under your collar,” Rowan moved his collar to hide it, which made House’s smirk grow bigger. “It’s a tattoo for guiding radiation treatment. I was looking for it after I saw what you had for breakfast: brown rice and vegetables, macrobiotic diet. Popular with Hollywood starlets and cancer patients.”

Rowan leaned back slightly and decided to come clean. “Lungs. Stage IV.”

House looked him over. “You look good.”

“I’m not,” It was the first honest conversation they had. “Came to the States to go to Sloan-Kettering and to see Dr. Wilson.”

“What’d he say?”

“Three months.”

There was a spark of realisation in House’s eyes. “But you haven’t told Robert. You don’t want to burden him because you were such a lousy dad.”

Rowan didn’t bother to defend himself. “I’d prefer you not to tell him.”

“Yeah, it’s better. I’ll get to see his face when he reads his dad’s obituary. Cry himself to sleep every night.”

He slipped his free hand into his coat pocket so House couldn’t see his clenched fist. “It’s not your business.”

“I suppose it isn’t.”

That was his cue to leave. However, Rowan couldn’t hold himself back from one final question, if they were being as truthful with each other as they could. He grabbed House by the arm and dragged him outside, ignoring the man's cries that he was being kidnapped by a 'crazy rheumatologist'. 

"Are we going to have at it like a couple of real Alphas? I'll drop the cane and let you throw the first punch."

Rowan very nearly scowled at him. He settled for hoping it hurt when he pulled him bodily along the path.  

"My son-" Rowan began as soon as they were out of hearing range of anyone who worked in the hospital.

"Oh boy," House interrupted. "Overprotective father finally shows up around fifteen years too late. It's less easy to die a deadbeat dad when your son hates you."

"You know nothing," Rowan hissed at him. House was in no position to judge- being, as Cuddy rightly labelled him- a sociopath, liar and dirty old man to boot. That was who Rowan was leaving his impressionable son with. "Do you care about him?"

There was a shift in House's insolent expression. A subtle one that Rowan interpreted as him being taken aback. "No, I don't. He's the weakest link out of all three of them."

"Be that as it may," Rowan gritted out. He could smell his own scent- blockers wearing off with the sheer force of his anger- mixing with House's. Pheromones designed to encourage aggression between equally-matched Alphas. "I am asking you- one Alpha to another- to treat him with respect."

"He hasn't earned it yet."

"Then be kinder with him."

"No."

"You believe his gender is an issue."

Interestingly, House looked on his way to becoming properly angry when Rowan said that. Must be the pheromones. "Your words, not mine."

Rowan continued, undeterred by the hostility. "Keep him out of trouble with other Alphas."

House scoffed loudly. "What do you want me to do? Marry him?"

Rowan tilted his head. How did he arrive at that without any prompting?

House slipped out of his grasp, wilier than he expected for a man who walked with a limp. He squared his shoulders, as though bracing for a hit. 

"Humor a dying man," Rowan said, looking the other Alpha right in the eye. "And look after him."

House remained silent, not even nodding in acknowledgment, though he did look less punchable now. Rowan gave him one last rueful smile before heading off to his final round of radiation treatment at Sloan-Kettering. 

It was a miracle that House's last-minute deduction saved the patient. Were Rowan younger, he would've been jealous of how effortlessly the other doctor made those connections, but all that hullabaloo leading up to that moment was forgotten as he packed his bags, ready to board a plane back home. It was the end of a chapter. 

Robert was waiting for him in the hotel lobby. Up close, his hair was mussed and he smelled a bit like gasoline, which triggered the part of Rowan's brain that jumped to conclusions. Under the warm glow of the chandeliers, he had to blink twice to make sure he wasn't seeing a vision of Louisa at thirty-years-old. It must be the lingering effects from the radiation. An Alpha or two stared openly at his son, despite him looking as nondescript as a beta. That was a gift from his mother- one couldn't help but be drawn to them. 

How different would his life be if he hadn't shied away from his first wife and allowed her to seal the mating bond with a bite on his throat? Would Rowan have felt the biological pull to stay and see her through her bouts of mental illness? Would he have fewer regrets before the end of his life in three months?

"Robbie." He cleared his suddenly dry throat. "Come to send me off?"

"I'm glad I caught you," Robert said with a boyish smile that looked real, hinting at a more relaxed mood now that the case was over and there was one less thing to fight over. They walked out the lobby together. 

"When's your flight?" His son asked once they were outside. "Care to join me for a beer?"

"Wish I had time," Rowan sighed.

A car stopped and a cabbie got out, waving at him. "Doctor Chase!"

"I've got it," Robert said and carried the heavy suitcase over to the waiting driver. His jacket hardly looked thick enough to protect him from the cold. 

A fist wrapped itself around Rowan's heart and squeezed. He managed to say calmly, "Are you going down to Oz any time soon?"

Robert tilted his head in consideration. A gesture he had picked up from his father. Rowan endured another painful squeeze of his heart. 

"Not too long. Next autumn, I hope. I’ll call you."

Rowan nodded, frozen to the pavement. Robert, oblivious to it all, continued. "Well, you’re all set."

He offered a slightly shaking hand to his son, which was taken without comment. On this cold night, the warmth of his son's touch was a shock to Rowan's system. He will live long after I'm gone. This is the legacy I leave. 

"Be careful of powerful men."

"I know, I know," Robert rolled his eyes. Another sign that his finishing school education had been wasted. "It's only House."

Without warning, Rowan felt two warm arms enveloping him. He automatically hugged him back, pressing his nose into Robert's hair and breathing in slowly. Perhaps it was another trick of his irradiated senses and dying lungs, but Robert smelled like homecoming. Rowan tightened his hold on his son, thinking all the while, the one thing he would never say out loud: I love you. I love you. I love you. 

As though sensing his father's thoughts, Robert made a sniffling sound and buried his face deeper into Rowan's shoulder. A childish reaction but it could be excused as a flaw of his sensitive omegan nature. 

Cancer had turned him into a sentimental man.

Rowan was the first to let go. 

"I'll see you," Robert said softly. His blue eyes were shining again and the tip of his nose was slightly pink. He was biting the inside of his cheek, something he had done since a child when he didn't want to cry in front of an audience.  

"I'll see you too," Rowan said, surprised at how stable his voice was. He stepped back quickly before he gave into the biological urge to hug him again, apologise for every disappointment he had ever handed him, and told him that he was dying. He walked away without a backward glance.

Mind over matter.

"Was that your son or something?" The cabbie asked once Rowan he got into the car. He must've witnessed the whole scene.

"Yes."

The last thing he wanted to do after saying goodbye to his son was have a conversation with a stranger. Rowan shot a hard look to the driver, hoping he got the message from the single-syllable answer. 

"He a doctor too?"

"Yes."

"Very pretty, if you don't mind me saying."

"...Yes."

"Is he courting anyone? You see, my daughter's an omega—"

He couldn't stop it if he tried. Rowan laughed with abandon until his cheeks ached and he had to brush away a few stray tears.