Title: Five Doctors House Never Interviewed
Spoilers: None
Rating: PG
Characters: House various crossover characters
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.
<lj-cut text ="House never did like doing interviews">
Dr. John Carter
House eyed the svelte dark haired doctor with the huge honker of a nose and finally decided that the blather was through. The small talk, the 'I became a doctor to save people', the 'I want to learn of the best' fawning. Okay so the last part was true in the fact that he was the best but really he didn't need anyone to point that out to him. So House interrupted him, not that he'd been listening anyway. “Cut the bullshit, why do you really want this job?”
House watched with glee as the man, Jack Crater or some other equally boring name floundered for a second before he seemed to collect himself. “The truth is Dr. House, I want this job because, well because two and half years ago I was stabbed at work by one of my patients. I got addicted to painkillers after that, but I finally got my act together and have been clean for five months. I just, I needed a clean break from my old job and my family. Really - dealing with a manipulative old man who also just happens to be the best diagnostician in the country is just a bonus.”
“The world.”
“Pardon?”
“You said the best diagnostician in the country but it's best diagnostician in the world.”
“Well since this country is part of the world my statement is still true.”
House nodded, “I concede the point. However I'm still not hiring you.” Crater opened his mouth to protest but House cut him off, “If you think that it's because you were addicted to painkillers, then well, you’re mistaken. After all, that would be hypocritical of me.” House pulled out his Vicoden and took a few, mostly for the drama, also mmmhh bitter. “No, I'm not hiring you because you cleaned yourself up. And NA's and AA's are notorious for their attempts to convert the unfaithful.” House shook his head sadly, “No I'm afraid that I just can't have your holier than thou's face around me. Sorry, you'll just have to find a new Daddy replacement. Next!”
Dr. Mark Sloan
House watched as a white haired older gentleman with a stupid grin plastered all over his face walked in. House hated him instantly. House was known for disliking people for just generally existing, but never had he felt such hatred garnered so instantaneously. It was possibly the fun, bouncing air of a amateur magician, or the grandfatherly kindness that he seemed to radiate, or no, no it was definitely his stupid, stupid bowtie. Really, honestly who wears a bow tie these days?
“Hi there.” God his voice was like grating glass on his nerves, “I'm here for the interview.”
“Alright then. There's only one thing I really need to know, c'mon a bowtie? No one wears a bowtie anymore. You look like a clown!”
Okay so not his best work, but hopefully enough to send this man running for the hills, but House watched in shock, as Grandfather Doctor just chuckled at him. Chuckled. At. Him. God. Then, then he actually pulled a fake red clown nose from his pockets. Jesus! He probably visits the Peds ward to entertain the poor dying chemo kids. Surprisingly the red nose somehow managed to detract from the annoyingness that surrounded the man. “I have been known to play a clown for the kids sometimes.” Then he started rambling about some thing...that - does this - frankly House wasn't paying attention, but he couldn't look away either, it was like a damn elderly train wreck.
Somehow the octogenarian doctor seemed to pick up on his uninvolvement and for the first time in the interview frowned, “Shouldn’t you be asking more pointed questions for your article?”
The question seemed to jump start his brain and he finally clicked on the fact that this man had just wasted 20 minutes of his life. Did he even look like a newspaper reporter? Well enough of this, “OUT!!!! Get out! Right Now! Out!” House prodded him with the cane when he didn't start moving fast enough. Damn geriatric doctors.
Dr. Janet Frasier
"Why?"
"Why what?" The woman was petite but from the no nonsense sort of expression used to dealing with unruly patients.
"Why do you a fellowship? Your CV reads like a gift from God. You could get an attending position anywhere, so my question to you is why?"
The petite doctor drew herself up to her considerably short stature and frowned in such a way that reminded House of how he imagined McGonagall, not that he would ever admit to reading Harry Potter. "Well, I'm a damn find doctor if that's what you are trying to hint around, but then we both know it isn't. I could tell you something like I'm looking for a change of pace, but that would be a lie." She seemed to deflate a bit, just a sigh of air but her larger than life persona seemed to disappear entirely and she looked so much smaller than before. When her eyes opened House recognized the look in them. A look he had seen in the eyes of some of his father's friends. The look of someone who had seen war. But there was no mention of that in her CV. When she spoke her voice was missing the steel that it had previously, all it contained now was tiredness. "The truth is, I'm tired. I'm tired of death, of emergency, of making all the hard decisions. I want to spend more time with my daughter, I want someone else to help bear the burden of patient care. I want this fellowship."
"No."
"No?"
"No. Go get yourself a nice partnership in a private practice. I can't imagine what you were doing before that would make this job be a step down but if you want to give up the adrenaline junkie lifestyle, this isn't the job for you."
Dr Robert Chase (Dr. Sam Beckett)
"Is Ziggy sure about this? All I have to do is interview with this House guy?"
"Noooo." Al drawled, "Ziggy says you have to interview with this House guy and get the job. 85% chance."
"Okay." Sam steeled himself, looked in the mirror and was shocked. "Jesus! How old is this kid? He looks like he's fourteen! And his sense of fashion is terrible!"
"Ever since that jump into a supermodel...his shirt looks fine..."Al trailed off and finally let out a huff of air and settled. "His name is Robert Chase. He's 24. Specialty is Intensive Care. Oh. Oh. His father is some big shot doctor. A rhum-rhuma-rhumatologist. What the heck is a rhumatologist?"
Sam stared intensely into the bathroom mirror, absent mindly he responded to Al's question, "a rhumatologist is a doctor that studies the immune system." Sam traced the outline of his face in the mirror and muttered quietly to himself, "who are you Dr. Robert Chase?"
Sam turned from the mirror. "So when is this interview?"
Al punched a few buttons, and his eyes widened momentarily, "two minutes! Jesus! Quick Sam!" Al hurriedly called up the schematics for the hospital and started to direct Sam with the fastest way to House's office. Sam had no problem keeping up or running the three flights of stairs. *Man this body is fit!* Somehow Sam managed to skid to a stop in front of House's office with no time to spare. Composing himself Sam poked his head in around the door, "Dr. House?"
The older man behind the desk didn't even look up from his Game boy. "If you can't read the name on the door then this interview is over."
Sam grimaced, so this wasn't quite what he had in mind. "No I could read the door, but just because someone's name is on the door doesn't mean that the person behind it matches, though there is a better than average odds that it does."
"Well you better than average odds has payed off. So," Dr. House spins around and tosses his Gameboy off to the side. Mockingly he asks, "Why should I hire you?"
Oh God. Sam just had no idea how to answer this. What could he say the truth? 'Oh you need to hire me because if you don't it will change the face of the future for the worse.' Sam glanced around the office, TV, games, balls, toys, it was an office that was littered with attention getters. "Because," Sam winced, "because I'm not boring?" God couldn't he show a little more confidence?
"Prove it." The old man's eyes glittered, shining with glee at his school yard prompt.
"uhh," Sam turned and walked further into the room and wandered around to buy time. Picking up a Rubix cube he wandered over and sat down ideally playing with it.
House sighed and seemed to lose a bit of interest. "Your father called me."
"So?" Safe answers Sam. Boring answers. He winced internally.
"It was about whether or not I should hire you."
"I didn't ask him for a recommendation." Sam crossed his mental fingers with hope
"Well it'd be even worse if you did. He told me not to hire you."
Sam glanced up at Al who was looking over the desk for some kind of help. Al looked up and shrugged helplessly.
Sam sighed, how was he suppose to fix this. "Look. If you want to hire great, if not then I'll just go." Sam tossed him the Rubix cube. "But frankly you don't strike me as the kind of person who lets other people dictate their actions." Sam got up stiffly and started out the door, mental fingers crossed.
House stared down thoughtfully at the completed Rubix cube. House watched as Chase walked out. He did have a very fine ass. Well he could always fire him later. He'd call tomorrow or actually later tonight if one still counted 3 am as today and tell Chase about being hired.
</lj-cut>
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