Prayer of the Damned by darkwhisperrose
Title: Prayer of the Damned
Author: darkwhisperrose
Characters: Robert Chase, Rowan Chase, Mrs. Chase
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2820
AN: I don't own House sadly FOX and David Shore do. But oh how I wish I did.
Prompt: 98. Write a fic about Chase and prayer.
There is a candle buried deep in a box somewhere in the back of the closet next to a photo album filled with pictures that prove he's been baptized, but Robert doesn't remember the event. He was only six months old when it happened, but he knows it was important.
It was the beginning.
**
They went to Mass every Sunday, after his mother dressed him in a starched white shirt with blue slacks and he insisted on a tie. He sat through the service between his parents, the voice of the priest just a distant humming in the background as he watched the people around him. Robert never made noise; the church had this feeling of quiet and silence that something inside told him not to disturb. Unlike the other mothers with young children, his mother never shook him awake during Mass, it never put him to sleep because he liked to watch and the way the prayers sounded stirred something inside of him.
He went to Communion with his mother behind him and his father in front, she folded his tiny arms across his chest and the priest smiled down at him as he placed a hand on Robert's head and whispered a blessing before offering his mother the Body of Christ.
His father was already kneeling in the pew when they returned, his head bent and mouth forming silent words of thanks to the Lord. Robert knelt next to him, right at his side; his own little head bent and clasped hands stretched out to the pew in front of them, mimicking his father's stance. He closed his eyes, not knowing what he was supposed to say to God and sat there occasionally peeking out to glance in awe at his father. Rowan caught him looking; he always did, and smiled down at his boy before patting his head.
When they stood, Robert would lean into his leg and Rowan put his arm around the tiny shoulders of his son and slipped his fingers around his wife's hand. At the end of Mass, Robert was hoisted into his father's arms and told how good a boy he was by his mother as his father shook hands with the priest. He felt safe in his father's arms looking over the older man's shoulder into the now empty chapel and the scent of incense mingled with his father's cologne becoming forever the scent of Sunday.
**
His mother was a vision in yellow, her blond hair curling around her shoulders and the scent of her lavender shampoo filled Robert's world as she buttoned the last button on his little white suit and straightened his tie. She smiled and Robert's heart leapt.
Father drove them to church, it was the second Sunday after Easter and the building was splendid in white and gold. There were four other children, two boys and two girls, whose mothers' were fussing over making sure that they're Communion outfits were immaculate and telling them to smile as they walked into the church.
He was last, but that suited Robert fine, giving him more time to look around at the people in the pews. His grandparents had come up from Melbourne and he saw his grandmother waving at him from one of the front pews and he smiled.
"The Body of Christ."
"Amen." There was a flash as his father snapped a picture of him with the priest, but his mind wasn't focused on the pictures, but on the look of pride in his father's eyes. The wine was bitter, but he didn't wrinkle his nose at the taste like the boy in front of him for fear of losing his father's regard. He simply drank a little and returned to his seat without incident. People filled the house for the reception in his honor and he wandered through the throngs of adults giving a polite smile and thank you as they told him how handsome he was, and how good a boy he was. He saw his mother sitting at the dinning room table laughing with women he didn't know. There was a bottle of wine on the table that was nearly empty and she had an empty glass before her. She offered him a cookie from the plate he was struggling to reach and he grinned when he took a bite-Mum's peanut butter, his favorite. Rowan was in the living room, leaning casually against the wall in conversation with some men Robert thought he remembered him working with. The boy leaned against the wall, too, trying to imitate his father only to slip on the marble and hit his head. Rowan heard the thud and seeing his son on the floor rushed over without even asking to be excused to gather Robert off the floor and push back his bangs to see the bump forming on his head. His father looked at him, concern in his eyes and Robert felt like he was the luckiest boy in the world.
A few hours later the guest were gone and his mother was cleaning up downstairs as Rowan pulled Robert's blue duck pajama shirt over his head and helped him into bed. Together they made the Sign of the Cross and said the Our Father, Rowan kneeling on the floor and Robert propped up against the pillows. When they were done, a white box came off the dresser and Robert gazed at his father confused. He opened the box to find a little white Bible with "Robert Chase" emblazoned in gold letters on the cover. Rowan hugged his son and pressed a kiss to the top of his head before turning off the light and letting Robert fall asleep still clutching his new Bible.
**
His mother threw her purse on the couch as the entered the house, making a beeline for the kitchen. They went to both services that morning since Robert was in the choir and his father had not been at either.
Robert searched the house for his father, looking in his study and his parent's bedroom for the older man, wanting to tell him how the choir director had pulled him aside after second service and told him he wanted him to sing the solo at next week's Mass. Robert had been dubious about the choir, but his mother had insisted and church was something they did as a family so it seemed like it might be an alright idea. Rowan usually had to work when Robert was off winning football games or had parent-teacher conferences, so something at church was a way he could be good at something his father would see, but his father was nowhere to be found.
He entered the kitchen to find his mother standing over the sink next to an open bottle of vodka and gulping down a drink from a glass. He asked where his father was.
"Emergency at the hospital," she told him. She didn't sound convinced. She poured herself another drink and Robert told her he was going to do his algebra homework for tomorrow, but she didn't hear him.
**
Mr. Chambers stood with him for his Confirmation and Robert recited the prayers and bowed his head for the bishop's blessing. The service was long with all the others who had to be blessed as well, but that didn't bother Robert, he knelt in the pew begging forgiveness and hoping that God would intercede on his behalf. Afterwards he thanked Mr. Chambers and shook hands with the bishop, escaping the crowded church before anyone started asking questions.
He walked in the den to find his mother sitting on the couch with three bottles on the coffee table in front of her along with an empty glass. The vodka was gone, and so was most of the gin.
"We're out of scotch, go to the store. Money's on the table." His mother's voice was bland and uninterested, holding not even the slightest curiosity at where he had been for the past four hours. Robert sighed and picked up the money on the table and headed back out of the door.
**
"GIVE IT TO ME!" She screamed as he tipped the bottle towards the sink and clear liquid began a steady flow toward the drain. She grabbed the neck of the bottle and snatched it out of his hand pushing Robert backwards in the process. He fell and hit his head on the edge of the sink, spots forming before his eyes. She looked down on him and for a moment she was the same sweet woman who had buttoned his shirt as a child and whispered that she loved him. It was an allusion. Her blond hair was a tangled mess, the sweatshirt she was wearing stained with food and reeking of gin and it was not a comforting smile but a cruel one that said he deserved his pain.
Robert stood shaking with anger and horror, unable to look at his mother as he slunk past her to the living room to get his jacket and leave. She watched him go with an amused glaze in her eyes and he wondered as he shut the door where his mother had gone.
In the closed confessional he knelt and waited for the little door to open. When it did he made the Sign of the Cross and spoke. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been six days since my last confession. These are my sins. I have been angry at my mother, dishonored her in taking from her that which she did not want me to have. I raised my hand to her in anger and lied to her about things I had done and places I had gone. For these and all the sins of my life I am sorry."
"Those are grave sins, my son, but our God is a loving Lord and forgives all who seek redemption. Your penance is to pray the rosary reflecting upon the Sorrowful Mysteries of our Lord and to do one unselfish thing for your mother."
Robert recited the Act of Contrition with the practiced grace of one who went often to confession, "O, My God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins because I dread the loss of Heaven and the pains of Hell; but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, Who art all-good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to confess my sins, to do penance, and to amend my life. Amen."
"I absolve you, my child, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Go in peace to serve the Lord."
Robert waited for the little door to close before he moved from his kneeling position. He was stiff when he rose, but welcomed the pain and went to the prayer alcove to light a candle before kneeling before the candles and praying his rosary. He prayed until he felt the bruises forming on his knees, and it spurred him not to go home, but to add another prayer for his mother's safety and his father's return. He didn't want to go home.
He walked in the door a few hours later to find his mother passed out on the couch, half empty glass in her hand and the floor between the coffee table and the couch covered in a pool of liquor. He shrugged off his jacket and knelt beside his mother to gently take the glass out of her hand and put it on the table. With one of the dish towels, he scrubbed the floor clean, listening to his mother's muttering in her sleep and becoming nauseated by the smell of alcohol.
He went to the closet and pulled out a freshly washed blanket and pillow then brought them back to the couch. His mother mumbled his father's name as he lifted her head to place the pillow underneath it and he tried his best not to think that if his father just came back everything would be alright. He covered her with the blanket and sunk into the easy chair next to her to fall into a light slumber of his own.
**
His mother was dying, he knew that deep down, but his conscious mind refused to accept it. She was weak, barely able to move and she stayed in bed even more than after one of her week long alcohol binges. It was the end, but Robert couldn't accept it.
She lay in bed then, under the bright yellow covers in the bed she used to share with his father. It was Sunday evening and the room was filled with the glow of the floor lamps under the shades she had decorated herself before Robert was born and he sat in a chair next to her bed reading because she told him her voice comforted him.
The family Bible lay spread on his lap and his eyes were glued to the page, unable to bring himself to look at the deteriorated form of his mother. Robert read in even tones the gospel for that week, "After John had been arrested, Jesus came to Galilee proclaiming the gospel of God: 'This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel.' As he passed by the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting their nets into the sea; they were fishermen. Jesus said to them, 'Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men.' Then they left their nets and followed him. He walked along a little farther and saw James, son of Zebedee, and his brother John. They too were in a boat mending their nets. Then he called to them."
When he finished reading he looked up to find his mother asleep, her breathing shallow. She died two days later.
**
He left the Church after her funeral, unable to believe that even though he believed in the Lord with such passion and prayed for her every day that the Lord would still take her in such a way. That was not the trait of a forgiving God.
He turned from religion to reason and with his mother gone, his father returned to his life enough to put him through college and medical school for the simple sake of getting his son out of the country. He lay in bed after his first full day of classes in medical school feeling overwhelmed. Robert was bright, he understood things, but there was so much complexity to life that these people tried to explain away with science that being raised so completely Catholic he could not understand. But he lay in bed wishing that he could adopt their callous outlook on the world, seeing only proteins and viruses, random chance and probability. And as he drifted off to sleep he sent up a silent prayer to the God he didn't want to believe in that he would make his father proud, make him realize what he had given up when he walked out.
**
His father was dead and Robert could no longer hide behind the guise of uncaring atheism or uninterested agnosticism. His faith had been chasing him from the moment he left the seminary, unexplained things that were unequivocally faith and miracles. Being a doctor showed him the need for God even more than the seminary had and he understood why his father had taken him to Mass every Sunday.
Robert wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. He missed his father, missed knowing he was there to reach out to whenever he got brave enough to do it, but he was too upset for tears. There was nothing left of his heart to break.
He sank to his knees at the foot of his bed and made the Sign of the Cross. He was fearful to open a dialogue with God, he feared being left empty, cold and alone, as he had been after his mother's funeral. He spent so many years praying for his family to fix itself, for his father's return and his mother's health and that things would just approach some sense of normal. He prayed that he was a better son so that he could do and be more to fix what he had clearly caused. But now there was no one and nothing left to pray for.
Robert knew that was a mistake now. He knew it was never his fault, but he had to blame someone and God refused to take the credit. Inhaling deeply, he summoned the courage to do something he had never done before. For the first time in his life, Robert Chase prayed for himself. God listened.
**
El Fin
**
Author: darkwhisperrose
Characters: Robert Chase, Rowan Chase, Mrs. Chase
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2820
AN: I don't own House sadly FOX and David Shore do. But oh how I wish I did.
Prompt: 98. Write a fic about Chase and prayer.
There is a candle buried deep in a box somewhere in the back of the closet next to a photo album filled with pictures that prove he's been baptized, but Robert doesn't remember the event. He was only six months old when it happened, but he knows it was important.
It was the beginning.
**
They went to Mass every Sunday, after his mother dressed him in a starched white shirt with blue slacks and he insisted on a tie. He sat through the service between his parents, the voice of the priest just a distant humming in the background as he watched the people around him. Robert never made noise; the church had this feeling of quiet and silence that something inside told him not to disturb. Unlike the other mothers with young children, his mother never shook him awake during Mass, it never put him to sleep because he liked to watch and the way the prayers sounded stirred something inside of him.
He went to Communion with his mother behind him and his father in front, she folded his tiny arms across his chest and the priest smiled down at him as he placed a hand on Robert's head and whispered a blessing before offering his mother the Body of Christ.
His father was already kneeling in the pew when they returned, his head bent and mouth forming silent words of thanks to the Lord. Robert knelt next to him, right at his side; his own little head bent and clasped hands stretched out to the pew in front of them, mimicking his father's stance. He closed his eyes, not knowing what he was supposed to say to God and sat there occasionally peeking out to glance in awe at his father. Rowan caught him looking; he always did, and smiled down at his boy before patting his head.
When they stood, Robert would lean into his leg and Rowan put his arm around the tiny shoulders of his son and slipped his fingers around his wife's hand. At the end of Mass, Robert was hoisted into his father's arms and told how good a boy he was by his mother as his father shook hands with the priest. He felt safe in his father's arms looking over the older man's shoulder into the now empty chapel and the scent of incense mingled with his father's cologne becoming forever the scent of Sunday.
**
His mother was a vision in yellow, her blond hair curling around her shoulders and the scent of her lavender shampoo filled Robert's world as she buttoned the last button on his little white suit and straightened his tie. She smiled and Robert's heart leapt.
Father drove them to church, it was the second Sunday after Easter and the building was splendid in white and gold. There were four other children, two boys and two girls, whose mothers' were fussing over making sure that they're Communion outfits were immaculate and telling them to smile as they walked into the church.
He was last, but that suited Robert fine, giving him more time to look around at the people in the pews. His grandparents had come up from Melbourne and he saw his grandmother waving at him from one of the front pews and he smiled.
"The Body of Christ."
"Amen." There was a flash as his father snapped a picture of him with the priest, but his mind wasn't focused on the pictures, but on the look of pride in his father's eyes. The wine was bitter, but he didn't wrinkle his nose at the taste like the boy in front of him for fear of losing his father's regard. He simply drank a little and returned to his seat without incident. People filled the house for the reception in his honor and he wandered through the throngs of adults giving a polite smile and thank you as they told him how handsome he was, and how good a boy he was. He saw his mother sitting at the dinning room table laughing with women he didn't know. There was a bottle of wine on the table that was nearly empty and she had an empty glass before her. She offered him a cookie from the plate he was struggling to reach and he grinned when he took a bite-Mum's peanut butter, his favorite. Rowan was in the living room, leaning casually against the wall in conversation with some men Robert thought he remembered him working with. The boy leaned against the wall, too, trying to imitate his father only to slip on the marble and hit his head. Rowan heard the thud and seeing his son on the floor rushed over without even asking to be excused to gather Robert off the floor and push back his bangs to see the bump forming on his head. His father looked at him, concern in his eyes and Robert felt like he was the luckiest boy in the world.
A few hours later the guest were gone and his mother was cleaning up downstairs as Rowan pulled Robert's blue duck pajama shirt over his head and helped him into bed. Together they made the Sign of the Cross and said the Our Father, Rowan kneeling on the floor and Robert propped up against the pillows. When they were done, a white box came off the dresser and Robert gazed at his father confused. He opened the box to find a little white Bible with "Robert Chase" emblazoned in gold letters on the cover. Rowan hugged his son and pressed a kiss to the top of his head before turning off the light and letting Robert fall asleep still clutching his new Bible.
**
His mother threw her purse on the couch as the entered the house, making a beeline for the kitchen. They went to both services that morning since Robert was in the choir and his father had not been at either.
Robert searched the house for his father, looking in his study and his parent's bedroom for the older man, wanting to tell him how the choir director had pulled him aside after second service and told him he wanted him to sing the solo at next week's Mass. Robert had been dubious about the choir, but his mother had insisted and church was something they did as a family so it seemed like it might be an alright idea. Rowan usually had to work when Robert was off winning football games or had parent-teacher conferences, so something at church was a way he could be good at something his father would see, but his father was nowhere to be found.
He entered the kitchen to find his mother standing over the sink next to an open bottle of vodka and gulping down a drink from a glass. He asked where his father was.
"Emergency at the hospital," she told him. She didn't sound convinced. She poured herself another drink and Robert told her he was going to do his algebra homework for tomorrow, but she didn't hear him.
**
Mr. Chambers stood with him for his Confirmation and Robert recited the prayers and bowed his head for the bishop's blessing. The service was long with all the others who had to be blessed as well, but that didn't bother Robert, he knelt in the pew begging forgiveness and hoping that God would intercede on his behalf. Afterwards he thanked Mr. Chambers and shook hands with the bishop, escaping the crowded church before anyone started asking questions.
He walked in the den to find his mother sitting on the couch with three bottles on the coffee table in front of her along with an empty glass. The vodka was gone, and so was most of the gin.
"We're out of scotch, go to the store. Money's on the table." His mother's voice was bland and uninterested, holding not even the slightest curiosity at where he had been for the past four hours. Robert sighed and picked up the money on the table and headed back out of the door.
**
"GIVE IT TO ME!" She screamed as he tipped the bottle towards the sink and clear liquid began a steady flow toward the drain. She grabbed the neck of the bottle and snatched it out of his hand pushing Robert backwards in the process. He fell and hit his head on the edge of the sink, spots forming before his eyes. She looked down on him and for a moment she was the same sweet woman who had buttoned his shirt as a child and whispered that she loved him. It was an allusion. Her blond hair was a tangled mess, the sweatshirt she was wearing stained with food and reeking of gin and it was not a comforting smile but a cruel one that said he deserved his pain.
Robert stood shaking with anger and horror, unable to look at his mother as he slunk past her to the living room to get his jacket and leave. She watched him go with an amused glaze in her eyes and he wondered as he shut the door where his mother had gone.
In the closed confessional he knelt and waited for the little door to open. When it did he made the Sign of the Cross and spoke. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been six days since my last confession. These are my sins. I have been angry at my mother, dishonored her in taking from her that which she did not want me to have. I raised my hand to her in anger and lied to her about things I had done and places I had gone. For these and all the sins of my life I am sorry."
"Those are grave sins, my son, but our God is a loving Lord and forgives all who seek redemption. Your penance is to pray the rosary reflecting upon the Sorrowful Mysteries of our Lord and to do one unselfish thing for your mother."
Robert recited the Act of Contrition with the practiced grace of one who went often to confession, "O, My God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins because I dread the loss of Heaven and the pains of Hell; but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, Who art all-good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to confess my sins, to do penance, and to amend my life. Amen."
"I absolve you, my child, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Go in peace to serve the Lord."
Robert waited for the little door to close before he moved from his kneeling position. He was stiff when he rose, but welcomed the pain and went to the prayer alcove to light a candle before kneeling before the candles and praying his rosary. He prayed until he felt the bruises forming on his knees, and it spurred him not to go home, but to add another prayer for his mother's safety and his father's return. He didn't want to go home.
He walked in the door a few hours later to find his mother passed out on the couch, half empty glass in her hand and the floor between the coffee table and the couch covered in a pool of liquor. He shrugged off his jacket and knelt beside his mother to gently take the glass out of her hand and put it on the table. With one of the dish towels, he scrubbed the floor clean, listening to his mother's muttering in her sleep and becoming nauseated by the smell of alcohol.
He went to the closet and pulled out a freshly washed blanket and pillow then brought them back to the couch. His mother mumbled his father's name as he lifted her head to place the pillow underneath it and he tried his best not to think that if his father just came back everything would be alright. He covered her with the blanket and sunk into the easy chair next to her to fall into a light slumber of his own.
**
His mother was dying, he knew that deep down, but his conscious mind refused to accept it. She was weak, barely able to move and she stayed in bed even more than after one of her week long alcohol binges. It was the end, but Robert couldn't accept it.
She lay in bed then, under the bright yellow covers in the bed she used to share with his father. It was Sunday evening and the room was filled with the glow of the floor lamps under the shades she had decorated herself before Robert was born and he sat in a chair next to her bed reading because she told him her voice comforted him.
The family Bible lay spread on his lap and his eyes were glued to the page, unable to bring himself to look at the deteriorated form of his mother. Robert read in even tones the gospel for that week, "After John had been arrested, Jesus came to Galilee proclaiming the gospel of God: 'This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel.' As he passed by the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting their nets into the sea; they were fishermen. Jesus said to them, 'Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men.' Then they left their nets and followed him. He walked along a little farther and saw James, son of Zebedee, and his brother John. They too were in a boat mending their nets. Then he called to them."
When he finished reading he looked up to find his mother asleep, her breathing shallow. She died two days later.
**
He left the Church after her funeral, unable to believe that even though he believed in the Lord with such passion and prayed for her every day that the Lord would still take her in such a way. That was not the trait of a forgiving God.
He turned from religion to reason and with his mother gone, his father returned to his life enough to put him through college and medical school for the simple sake of getting his son out of the country. He lay in bed after his first full day of classes in medical school feeling overwhelmed. Robert was bright, he understood things, but there was so much complexity to life that these people tried to explain away with science that being raised so completely Catholic he could not understand. But he lay in bed wishing that he could adopt their callous outlook on the world, seeing only proteins and viruses, random chance and probability. And as he drifted off to sleep he sent up a silent prayer to the God he didn't want to believe in that he would make his father proud, make him realize what he had given up when he walked out.
**
His father was dead and Robert could no longer hide behind the guise of uncaring atheism or uninterested agnosticism. His faith had been chasing him from the moment he left the seminary, unexplained things that were unequivocally faith and miracles. Being a doctor showed him the need for God even more than the seminary had and he understood why his father had taken him to Mass every Sunday.
Robert wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. He missed his father, missed knowing he was there to reach out to whenever he got brave enough to do it, but he was too upset for tears. There was nothing left of his heart to break.
He sank to his knees at the foot of his bed and made the Sign of the Cross. He was fearful to open a dialogue with God, he feared being left empty, cold and alone, as he had been after his mother's funeral. He spent so many years praying for his family to fix itself, for his father's return and his mother's health and that things would just approach some sense of normal. He prayed that he was a better son so that he could do and be more to fix what he had clearly caused. But now there was no one and nothing left to pray for.
Robert knew that was a mistake now. He knew it was never his fault, but he had to blame someone and God refused to take the credit. Inhaling deeply, he summoned the courage to do something he had never done before. For the first time in his life, Robert Chase prayed for himself. God listened.
**
El Fin
**