House MD FF: Transference 4&5/9 (House/Chase, R)
Title: Transference 4&5/9
Fandom: House, MD
Pairing: House/Chase
Rating: R for violence, domestic abuse, allusions of rape.
Genre: Angst/Drama
Length: These parts - 1,900 words
Disclaimer: House and all its characters are, sadly, not mine.
Summary: But Chase was a grown man, however stupidly childlike he looked wandering around barefoot and bruised.
(From the beginning...)
I know I said I wouldn't be online, but I felt bad leaving this WIP for so long, so here are both Chapters 4 and 5, and I'l try and get on again before Christmas with the next one. Once more, many thanks to parkermonster, the remaining mistakes are very much mine.
Chapter 4
‘Chase?’ House called. He had set Chase down on his couch hours before with a nod towards the cable and the fridge, but it was occurring to him that he hadn’t exactly told him to stay there.
‘Yeah?’ But then Chase was used to obeying the implicit instructions House gave. He was in the kitchen, padding around sock-less.
‘Barefoot and in the kitchen? If you’re pregnant, you may be beyond even my considerable expertise.’
He blushed, ‘I was getting something to eat. Do you want anything?’
‘You cooked me dinner?’
The incredulity in his voice forced Chase into defensiveness. ‘I cooked for me. There’s enough for you if you want. If you don’t.. .’
‘Why would I turn down free food?’
Chase brought him a plate of pasta, setting it carefully on the table. They ate in near silence, only breaking it to pass the salt.
When they had finished, Chase carried the plates to the sink to wash. House wondered whether James had been entirely wrong in his warnings. He had been repeating them all day, so clearly he thought they were warranted. But Chase was a grown man, however stupidly childlike he looked wandering around barefoot and bruised.
‘Here,’ he growled, tossing Chase a set of keys when the washing up was finished. ‘All sorted. The nasty man won’t be able to get in now.’
He was met with a hesitant look. ‘Thanks for sorting it out. I should probably go then...’
Not sure whether he was relenting to the almost-plea, or succumbing to his own need to make sure that Chase was spending the night somewhere safe, he answered, ‘It’s ten o’clock - I’m not driving you home tonight. I have a perfectly good couch you can sleep on.’
Chase nodded, a hint of gratefulness flickering in his eyes.
House woke to the soft hum of the television in the living room. It took a few moments for the events of the previous day to filter through his brain, so he could recall that Chase was here, and thus there was no need to go after cable-loving burglars with his cane.
He limped out to explain to Chase exactly why waking your boss up at three a.m. was a bad idea.
Chase was already looking at the doorway when House appeared in it. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured.
‘The question is - will “sorry” turn back time so I don’t get woken up by house-guests in the middle of the night, irreparably damaging my sleep-patterns?’ he responded contemplatively.
Still wrapped in the blanket, Chase got up and turned the television off. ‘Sorry,’ he repeated.
‘Tell that to the sleep-patterns,’ he said mournfully. ‘Go make yourself hot milk or whatever it is that good British children drink to make themselves sleepy. I have to work tomorrow - no time to sit here reading you bedtime stories.’
Chase scoffed quietly at that, but walked to the kitchen. ‘Want anything?’
‘Sleep. No clinic hours and no patients tomorrow.’ He pondered, ‘And a hooker named Sally.’
A slight smile. ‘From the kitchen.’
‘Sally isn’t in the kitchen in some kind of French maid ensemble, is she?’
Chase shook his head, although it wasn’t clear whether it was an answer to the question or a response to House’s French maid fantasy being called Sally.
When Chase came back he settled into the couch with a sigh, inhaling the steam emanating from the mug.
‘You can go,’ he offered to House.
‘As it is my house, I’m aware of that, yes. Where did you get cocoa from?’
‘Kitchen?’
He shook his head. ‘Now, Robert, only bad boys lie.’
‘I went to the shop while you were at work. I forgot to bring shaving cream.’
‘And so naturally you stocked up on cocoa power.’
‘You didn’t tell me not to leave.’
‘I’m not asking why you left, I’m asking why you left to buy cocoa powder.’
‘I didn’t leave to buy cocoa powder. I just saw it while I was there and picked it up. I don’t know why I’m explaining this - it’s my money and...’
‘No marshmallows?’
He blushed, admitting, ‘I forgot.’
‘So you remember cocoa, but marshmallows are beyond you?’
‘Why are you...?’
House interrupted him, ‘When was the last time you slept?’
‘Last night?’
‘Well that’s a lie, because you spent last night in a closet!’
‘The night before, then,’ he responded, shrugging.
‘For a whole night.’
‘What are you...?’
‘The doors are locked, Chase. The bogey-men are all outside. Lie down and go to sleep.’
Chase just blinked at him.
House sighed, and poked the television back on with the end of his cane. He reached for the remote and channel-hopped to a badly dubbed kung-fu movie. Daring Chase to comment, he made no move to go back to his room.
Chase just pulled the blankets tighter around himself, and settled down, sipping from the hot cocoa periodically.
Inching close enough to snag the mug as it was dropped was tricky, but House managed it. He shoved Chase lightly so he fell, still asleep, onto the end of the sofa. When House went back to bed, ten minutes later, he left the lamp on.
Chapter 5
‘Chase! Leaving now!’
‘Coming,’ he called from the bathroom.
‘I might be more inclined to believe that if you hadn’t said the same thing half an hour ago. You can blow-dry your hair at your own house.’
Chase opened the door. ‘Done.’ He was wearing his lab coat, and had his hair brushed down in front of the gash on his forehead.
‘A little dressed up for recuperating in the apartment, aren’t you? And the whole doctor role-play thing’s only fun if you have company,’ House said.
‘I’m going to work.’
‘Okay.’ Chase blinked in surprise at the easy acquiescence. House went on, ‘But if you have a breakdown in the office we’re all just going to work around your prone body. I don’t offer sympathy and cosseting to people who assert that they’re fine.’
‘You don’t offer sympathy to people who aren’t asserting they’re fine either. So I wasn’t exactly expecting any.’
‘...good.’
Still, it couldn’t hurt to keep an eye on Chase. This wouldn’t be the first time that he had spent productive hours staring at Chase to see how long it took to make him crack. So no one, barring Cameron succumbing to puppy-dog eyes, would stop him. It could stay between him and his mind that this time he was hoping to stop Chase before he cracked. Damaged Chase was a fun enough toy, but broken beyond use would only make him feel guilty, and guilt was his least favourite of all the emotions.
But Chase seemed fine. Still a little quiet, but he had been quieter since somewhere between Vogler and his father’s death, so as far as House knew, it was nothing to do with Tom. He was more awake than he had been in weeks, and participating in the white-board with something approaching his usual enthusiasm.
When he seemed to drift off, House called him back sharply, ‘Chase!’
‘Hmmm?’
‘Is the answer to the case hidden in the pencil you’re so ardently devouring? Or am I simply no longer worthy of your attention?’
He received a glower for his troubles, and Chase began to rhyme off a string of suggestions, all related to their discussion of the last few minutes. Typical - no gratitude.
The patient was gasping for breath. Chase was standing at the head of the bed, trying to intubate her without success. The husband was having hysterics in the background, and her lips were turning blue.
‘Get out of the way!’ House said, pushing past the nurses. He elbowed Chase out of the way. ‘You’re no use to me in here. Go!’ He took the tube from Chase’s hands, and fed it slowly into the airway.
House left the patient’s room after reluctantly reassuring the husband that his wife was breathing fine now, and they were doing all they could. It wasn’t until he had nearly reached his office that he remembered Chase’s expression when he had been ordered out. Chase had been fine for weeks now, since House had driven him to the hospital the morning after he had forcibly ended Chase’s relationship with Tom. The last time he had seen Chase look like that had been...
He found Chase in the office.
Chase looked up at him, no hint of the desperation of half an hour ago. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I just couldn’t find the airway.’
‘Luckily, I could,’ House answered, none of his relief showing. ‘Patients have this stupid desire to keep breathing.’
House hovered in the doorway of the office, watching Cameron and Foreman. They were supposed to be finished for the day, and he wanted to know why they hadn’t headed back into their lives of (presumably) puppy-coddling, and sex with drug reps. The patient, after her minor not-breathing episode, seemed to have stabilised, and they could do nothing until the tests arrived the next morning.
‘Did Chase seem okay to you?’ Cameron was asking Foreman.
‘I’m gonna take a wild leap and assume you think he isn’t,’ he answered.
‘I’m worried about him.’
‘You worry about everyone.’
‘You don’t think he’s been strange?’
‘Chase is always strange. It’s an Australian thing.’
‘He’s really fidgety. He’s not fighting back when you shout him down. Plus, he’s he fell down the stairs in his apartment and got this huge bruise. And he isn’t normally clumsy.’
‘You’ve seen his leg?’ Foreman asked, grinning. When Cameron glared, he looked serious. ‘He’s been jumpier than usual.’
‘So,’ Cameron said, ‘agitation, clumsiness, paranoia... those are all psychological symptoms.’
‘You think he needs a shrink?’
‘All I mean is, it’s not just a bad mood, or distraction - there’s something wrong.’
House made his presence known. ‘Where is he?’
‘Chase?’ Cameron asked. ‘He went home. It’s pretty late.’
‘He was going straight home?’
‘That’s what he said. Why do you need to know?’
He was already dialling Chase’s home number. It went to the answering machine, and after the beep House snapped, ‘Chase? If you don’t call me back in five minutes I’m coming over there.’
‘What?’ Foreman asked.
House didn’t say a word. They sat in silence, House looking at his watch. When five minutes had passed he got up and walked to the door. ‘Go home,’ he threw over his shoulder.
Chase wasn’t home. House had suspected that but, even as he let himself into the apartment with the key he had stolen, he had hoped. He had hoped that, just once, he had judged Chase wrong.
When House got back into the car, he wasn’t exactly sure where he was going, but he knew the direction. In one of the town’s less pleasant areas, he found what he was looking for.
The bar was smoky and loud, but Chase’s blond hair was fairly distinctive. Especially leaning in like that, to a man who was not the one House had feared, but from the look he gave Chase, might well be so close as to make no difference.
As he walked over, he found himself wondering, yet again: What am I going to do with you. This time there was no answer.
Next Chapter
Thoughts?
Fandom: House, MD
Pairing: House/Chase
Rating: R for violence, domestic abuse, allusions of rape.
Genre: Angst/Drama
Length: These parts - 1,900 words
Disclaimer: House and all its characters are, sadly, not mine.
Summary: But Chase was a grown man, however stupidly childlike he looked wandering around barefoot and bruised.
(From the beginning...)
I know I said I wouldn't be online, but I felt bad leaving this WIP for so long, so here are both Chapters 4 and 5, and I'l try and get on again before Christmas with the next one. Once more, many thanks to parkermonster, the remaining mistakes are very much mine.
Chapter 4
‘Chase?’ House called. He had set Chase down on his couch hours before with a nod towards the cable and the fridge, but it was occurring to him that he hadn’t exactly told him to stay there.
‘Yeah?’ But then Chase was used to obeying the implicit instructions House gave. He was in the kitchen, padding around sock-less.
‘Barefoot and in the kitchen? If you’re pregnant, you may be beyond even my considerable expertise.’
He blushed, ‘I was getting something to eat. Do you want anything?’
‘You cooked me dinner?’
The incredulity in his voice forced Chase into defensiveness. ‘I cooked for me. There’s enough for you if you want. If you don’t.. .’
‘Why would I turn down free food?’
Chase brought him a plate of pasta, setting it carefully on the table. They ate in near silence, only breaking it to pass the salt.
When they had finished, Chase carried the plates to the sink to wash. House wondered whether James had been entirely wrong in his warnings. He had been repeating them all day, so clearly he thought they were warranted. But Chase was a grown man, however stupidly childlike he looked wandering around barefoot and bruised.
‘Here,’ he growled, tossing Chase a set of keys when the washing up was finished. ‘All sorted. The nasty man won’t be able to get in now.’
He was met with a hesitant look. ‘Thanks for sorting it out. I should probably go then...’
Not sure whether he was relenting to the almost-plea, or succumbing to his own need to make sure that Chase was spending the night somewhere safe, he answered, ‘It’s ten o’clock - I’m not driving you home tonight. I have a perfectly good couch you can sleep on.’
Chase nodded, a hint of gratefulness flickering in his eyes.
House woke to the soft hum of the television in the living room. It took a few moments for the events of the previous day to filter through his brain, so he could recall that Chase was here, and thus there was no need to go after cable-loving burglars with his cane.
He limped out to explain to Chase exactly why waking your boss up at three a.m. was a bad idea.
Chase was already looking at the doorway when House appeared in it. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured.
‘The question is - will “sorry” turn back time so I don’t get woken up by house-guests in the middle of the night, irreparably damaging my sleep-patterns?’ he responded contemplatively.
Still wrapped in the blanket, Chase got up and turned the television off. ‘Sorry,’ he repeated.
‘Tell that to the sleep-patterns,’ he said mournfully. ‘Go make yourself hot milk or whatever it is that good British children drink to make themselves sleepy. I have to work tomorrow - no time to sit here reading you bedtime stories.’
Chase scoffed quietly at that, but walked to the kitchen. ‘Want anything?’
‘Sleep. No clinic hours and no patients tomorrow.’ He pondered, ‘And a hooker named Sally.’
A slight smile. ‘From the kitchen.’
‘Sally isn’t in the kitchen in some kind of French maid ensemble, is she?’
Chase shook his head, although it wasn’t clear whether it was an answer to the question or a response to House’s French maid fantasy being called Sally.
When Chase came back he settled into the couch with a sigh, inhaling the steam emanating from the mug.
‘You can go,’ he offered to House.
‘As it is my house, I’m aware of that, yes. Where did you get cocoa from?’
‘Kitchen?’
He shook his head. ‘Now, Robert, only bad boys lie.’
‘I went to the shop while you were at work. I forgot to bring shaving cream.’
‘And so naturally you stocked up on cocoa power.’
‘You didn’t tell me not to leave.’
‘I’m not asking why you left, I’m asking why you left to buy cocoa powder.’
‘I didn’t leave to buy cocoa powder. I just saw it while I was there and picked it up. I don’t know why I’m explaining this - it’s my money and...’
‘No marshmallows?’
He blushed, admitting, ‘I forgot.’
‘So you remember cocoa, but marshmallows are beyond you?’
‘Why are you...?’
House interrupted him, ‘When was the last time you slept?’
‘Last night?’
‘Well that’s a lie, because you spent last night in a closet!’
‘The night before, then,’ he responded, shrugging.
‘For a whole night.’
‘What are you...?’
‘The doors are locked, Chase. The bogey-men are all outside. Lie down and go to sleep.’
Chase just blinked at him.
House sighed, and poked the television back on with the end of his cane. He reached for the remote and channel-hopped to a badly dubbed kung-fu movie. Daring Chase to comment, he made no move to go back to his room.
Chase just pulled the blankets tighter around himself, and settled down, sipping from the hot cocoa periodically.
Inching close enough to snag the mug as it was dropped was tricky, but House managed it. He shoved Chase lightly so he fell, still asleep, onto the end of the sofa. When House went back to bed, ten minutes later, he left the lamp on.
Chapter 5
‘Chase! Leaving now!’
‘Coming,’ he called from the bathroom.
‘I might be more inclined to believe that if you hadn’t said the same thing half an hour ago. You can blow-dry your hair at your own house.’
Chase opened the door. ‘Done.’ He was wearing his lab coat, and had his hair brushed down in front of the gash on his forehead.
‘A little dressed up for recuperating in the apartment, aren’t you? And the whole doctor role-play thing’s only fun if you have company,’ House said.
‘I’m going to work.’
‘Okay.’ Chase blinked in surprise at the easy acquiescence. House went on, ‘But if you have a breakdown in the office we’re all just going to work around your prone body. I don’t offer sympathy and cosseting to people who assert that they’re fine.’
‘You don’t offer sympathy to people who aren’t asserting they’re fine either. So I wasn’t exactly expecting any.’
‘...good.’
Still, it couldn’t hurt to keep an eye on Chase. This wouldn’t be the first time that he had spent productive hours staring at Chase to see how long it took to make him crack. So no one, barring Cameron succumbing to puppy-dog eyes, would stop him. It could stay between him and his mind that this time he was hoping to stop Chase before he cracked. Damaged Chase was a fun enough toy, but broken beyond use would only make him feel guilty, and guilt was his least favourite of all the emotions.
But Chase seemed fine. Still a little quiet, but he had been quieter since somewhere between Vogler and his father’s death, so as far as House knew, it was nothing to do with Tom. He was more awake than he had been in weeks, and participating in the white-board with something approaching his usual enthusiasm.
When he seemed to drift off, House called him back sharply, ‘Chase!’
‘Hmmm?’
‘Is the answer to the case hidden in the pencil you’re so ardently devouring? Or am I simply no longer worthy of your attention?’
He received a glower for his troubles, and Chase began to rhyme off a string of suggestions, all related to their discussion of the last few minutes. Typical - no gratitude.
The patient was gasping for breath. Chase was standing at the head of the bed, trying to intubate her without success. The husband was having hysterics in the background, and her lips were turning blue.
‘Get out of the way!’ House said, pushing past the nurses. He elbowed Chase out of the way. ‘You’re no use to me in here. Go!’ He took the tube from Chase’s hands, and fed it slowly into the airway.
House left the patient’s room after reluctantly reassuring the husband that his wife was breathing fine now, and they were doing all they could. It wasn’t until he had nearly reached his office that he remembered Chase’s expression when he had been ordered out. Chase had been fine for weeks now, since House had driven him to the hospital the morning after he had forcibly ended Chase’s relationship with Tom. The last time he had seen Chase look like that had been...
He found Chase in the office.
Chase looked up at him, no hint of the desperation of half an hour ago. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I just couldn’t find the airway.’
‘Luckily, I could,’ House answered, none of his relief showing. ‘Patients have this stupid desire to keep breathing.’
House hovered in the doorway of the office, watching Cameron and Foreman. They were supposed to be finished for the day, and he wanted to know why they hadn’t headed back into their lives of (presumably) puppy-coddling, and sex with drug reps. The patient, after her minor not-breathing episode, seemed to have stabilised, and they could do nothing until the tests arrived the next morning.
‘Did Chase seem okay to you?’ Cameron was asking Foreman.
‘I’m gonna take a wild leap and assume you think he isn’t,’ he answered.
‘I’m worried about him.’
‘You worry about everyone.’
‘You don’t think he’s been strange?’
‘Chase is always strange. It’s an Australian thing.’
‘He’s really fidgety. He’s not fighting back when you shout him down. Plus, he’s he fell down the stairs in his apartment and got this huge bruise. And he isn’t normally clumsy.’
‘You’ve seen his leg?’ Foreman asked, grinning. When Cameron glared, he looked serious. ‘He’s been jumpier than usual.’
‘So,’ Cameron said, ‘agitation, clumsiness, paranoia... those are all psychological symptoms.’
‘You think he needs a shrink?’
‘All I mean is, it’s not just a bad mood, or distraction - there’s something wrong.’
House made his presence known. ‘Where is he?’
‘Chase?’ Cameron asked. ‘He went home. It’s pretty late.’
‘He was going straight home?’
‘That’s what he said. Why do you need to know?’
He was already dialling Chase’s home number. It went to the answering machine, and after the beep House snapped, ‘Chase? If you don’t call me back in five minutes I’m coming over there.’
‘What?’ Foreman asked.
House didn’t say a word. They sat in silence, House looking at his watch. When five minutes had passed he got up and walked to the door. ‘Go home,’ he threw over his shoulder.
Chase wasn’t home. House had suspected that but, even as he let himself into the apartment with the key he had stolen, he had hoped. He had hoped that, just once, he had judged Chase wrong.
When House got back into the car, he wasn’t exactly sure where he was going, but he knew the direction. In one of the town’s less pleasant areas, he found what he was looking for.
The bar was smoky and loud, but Chase’s blond hair was fairly distinctive. Especially leaning in like that, to a man who was not the one House had feared, but from the look he gave Chase, might well be so close as to make no difference.
As he walked over, he found himself wondering, yet again: What am I going to do with you. This time there was no answer.
Next Chapter
Thoughts?