Fic: Sinnerman, Prophet, Saint (10/?)
Title: Sinnerman, Prophet, Saint
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Chase/OMC, House/Chase
Summary: The marks of the saints and a past he won’t remember force Chase and House to face religion head on. They won’t get his fellow without a fight!
Spoilers: Up to season 4 Finale.
Genre: Drama, Supernatural
Disclaimer: I don’t own House. I’m not making any money off this story.
Chapter Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Language, Adult Situations, Violence, M/M relationships. Do not read this story if any of these bother you!
A/N: My apologies for neglecting this story. Sort of lost interest…
Chapter 10: Identity Crisis
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“So what have I missed?” Wilson asked casually as he strode into to diagnostics conference room. For a moment he paused at the eerie image that the two fellows at the table and the older man at the whiteboard brought up.
“Infection.” Henderson stated.
“I thought she’d already been treated for her infection.”
Foreman sighed -the absurdity of their idea not lost on him. “Another infection -one that didn’t respond to the broad spectrum antibiotics she was given.”
Wilson didn’t know what to say in to the anticipatory silence. Three sets of eyes looked at him, gauging his response, his opinion of they’re latest theory. “Uh-huh…” was all he ventured.
“It could be an infection attacking her brain,” Foreman suggested as though the repetition made the theory true.
“Well, Angelica is a little more lucid,” Wilson announced. He took a seat at the table. “She’s now quite adamant that both she and Chase are supernatural beings.”
Cameron shook her head. “Her delusion is become more real to her. The anti-psychotics aren’t working.”
“Then lets take her off of them,” Henderson asserted facetiously, only to have the others actually consider the suggestion. “I was kidding.”
“No you’re right. We’ve been so eager to try alternative therapies but we refuse to fully embrace our theory. As long as we keep her on the anti-psychotics we’ll never know for certain how the other treatments are affecting her,” Cameron endorsed.
Henderson shook his head. “Take a diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic off her medication? Cuddy will never approve this.”
The other three looked at him. What they were suggesting was actually quite tame compared to the usual schemes that echoed in that room.
“You’d be surprised what Cuddy will let you do if you ask right,” Foreman said conspiratorially.
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Ten days, Mayes had told him. Ten days and Chase would be safe, or at least not in danger of being killed by deranged religious groups. Unfortunately they didn’t have the equipment to stay in the bush for ten day, or even one night so that meant finding shelter, preferably one that would take a promise of payment rather than actual payment, since neither of them had any money. A trek up the bank, back to the highway was the first and most difficult order of business. It was painful for both of them. House took one of his few remaining Vicodin and offered one to Chase who accepted. What type of pain Chase was seeking relief from, House didn’t know but he was too tired to speculate.
Fortunately getting a ride to a nearby district of Tel Aviv wasn’t difficult. In what was mostly Mastema’s doing, he picked out from the stream of passing cars the one that would help them. So, House waved and the driver did stop. And that wasn’t where the oddities ended.
House was versed in many languages, his father travelling all over the world on different tours of duty and dragging him and his mother around with him saw to that. He knew for a fact that Chase spoke only English, Czech, and very basic Japanese and Mandarin. He should not have been able to converse fluently in Hebrew with the Israeli man. Chase did the same with the middle aged couple who owned a small, run down, low-rise apartment in Hatikva. In words House couldn’t decipher, Chase somehow convinced the couple to give them a room.
House kept his comments until he locked the door of their new accommodations behind them.
“I didn’t know you spoke Hebrew.”
Chase didn’t face him when he responded with, “Ani lo medaber Ivrit.” ( I don’t speak Hebrew.)
Their new lodgings were rustic, to put it nicely, and decrepit, to put it cruelly. It was one small room with, no bathroom, no kitchen, and the only furniture was a twin mattress sitting on a weak, wooden frame in the corner. The minimal movements of the two men in the small room kicked up dust into the stale, musty air.
Chase coughed as he dusted off the mattress. He didn’t want to consider what he might be breathing in and what it might do to him. After working in PPTH’s diagnostics department, and after being so close to so many terrible illnesses from some of the most innocuous sources, it was a constant battle not to become a hypochondriac.
He sat down with a silent sigh, too weary to put enough breath into it to make a sound. After several seconds, in which Chase stared morosely at the wall and House stared suspiciously at Chase, the older man braved the walk and the dusty furnishings to sit next to him.
House had nothing to say or, more precisely, too much and no words to put it in. Chase spoke first.
“You should find the American Embassy and get out of here.”
The sound of a poorly running vehicle just outside nearly drowned out the soft suggestion and the equally faint response.
“We’ll find the Australian Embassy first. They-”
“They can’t help me. I’ve made the mistake of going to the authorities before.” Chase shook his head and closed his eyes. “They have too many friends, too many connections. I wouldn’t make it out of the country. But if you’re not here they can’t use you against me.”
“But if I’m not here, then you’re alone. And you’re not in the best of shape.”
There was no response to that. House grew impatient.
“Do you want to go through this alone? Say yes and I’ll go -makes no difference to me either way. If you don’t want me here,” he leaned forward trying to catch Chase’s eyes, “then look me in the eye and tell me.”
Composure wrenching seconds passed as House awaited the answer. Chase’s shoulder rose and fell with tremulous breaths until finally he turned and looked into his one remaining ally’s eyes.
“I can’t…I’m so tired.”
House didn’t doubt that. What he couldn’t be sure of was to whom he was speaking, because Chase’s eyes had gone that luminescent white again and he couldn’t look away until Chase closed his eyes.
They both needed rest. They could deal with the rest of their problems after the sun rose. House removed his button-up shirt and spread it over the mattress at the end of the bed furthest from the door. He’d been wearing it for days and it smelt strongly of him, but it was either that or lay their heads on the dusty mattress. The rest of their bodies could manage but inhaling breath after breath of months, if not years, of dust build-up was not going to do either of them any good.
Without words or instructions the two men laid themselves down. Joints ached and muscles pained as they tried to relax on the thin padding. When they were at last settled they were on their sides, facing each other and close enough that their knees brushed.
“I guess it could be worse,” House drawled. Chase blinked blearily back at him and waited for the rest of the thought. “I could be stuck in the same bed with Foreman.”
Chase smiled sleepily and a few minutes later House was sure he was asleep. One last glance around assured House that they were alone, and he allowed his body its surrender.
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Angelica would not have been aware of what was going on around her. She was already heavily medicated to mediate her diagnosed psychosis. To that already nauseating cocktail of medications they had added the anti-epileptics. So when two doctors came in and began speaking to her in slow simple words they didn’t truly believe that she comprehended what they were saying.
“Well at least she looks pleased about it,” Dr. Foreman noted while he wrote in her chart.
“You could have been telling her that the planet was about to implode and she’d still smile at you. It’s the medications.”
“Let’s hope it’s not because she’s going to have to do without them for a while.” They had left orders to have Angelica quickly weaned off the anti-psychotics. Whatever her response they hoped that it would be easier to decipher without the medicated cloud blocking the patient from her doctors.
Foreman replaced the file into the holder at the foot of the bed. With nothing else to say he tried to return a smile to the woman. He left after a minor success. Henderson followed a moment later.
Angelica’s head lolled to the left, to the window where her companion sat, a comforting dark shadow under the warmth of a waning sun.
“This is better,” she whispered. The phantom agreed.
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They weren’t alone when they woke. Chase woke first, and woke tired, though not to the extent he had been the night before. The sun was up and the dingy window that he and he doubted House even noticed was allowing bright sunlight to stream through, leaving a pool of light on the floor and washing out the dank room with a golden glow. It was almost enough to hide the layer of dust already in the room. But it wasn’t the sunlight that had awoken him.
“Hi,” Chase greeted before his eyes were completely open. He knew who was there. He could feel the presence in every fibre of his being. He didn’t know how he didn’t miss this feeling because now he felt he couldn’t go for long without it.
‘I though I’d look in on you.’
“You’re always looking in -or sending something to look in. I wish you wouldn’t.”
‘You weren’t supposed to be able to detect them with corporeal senses.’
With his back to and brushing against House’s side and his head pillowed on an arm he had to sit up carefully to make sure he didn’t cause the other man to wake. The chill had continued to seep in as the night progressed and Chase had removed House’s jacket that he was wearing to drape it over both of them. It had required some crafty positioning of his body next to House, since the blazer was only so big, but he didn’t mind and House never complained. Chase realized that he liked the sleeping House, as much as funny House, and tender House. The jury was still out on ‘I-know-what’s-best-for-everyone’ House.
“Well, I could feel them.”
‘We weren’t the only ones sending…things to check up on you.’
“I know, and I’ll talk to Azrael later.” In the quiet Chase stared at the apparition. “Nice face.”
‘I can change it if you like.’
Chase smiled. “No. It’s your face too, Azazel. I guess.”
‘Thank you.’
“I see you picked up sarcasm.”
The man seated cross-legged on the floor next to the bed laughed. A few strands of dark blond hair fell onto his forehead as he tilted his head . ‘I invented sarcasm.’
“Well meet one of your many disciples.” Chase nodded back to House who was still fast asleep.
‘We’ve met.’
The smile on Chase’s face drained away.
‘You don’t trust me,’ Azazel accused more than asked.
“I love you. I know you. And I know your…purpose. It’s not one that’s good for him.”
‘Neither is your purpose. In fact, we’re one in the same.’
“I know.” Robert swung his bare legs over edge of the bed to plant his cold feet on the colder floor. The wrap was still tied around him but it had ridden up to his waist during the night. It wasn’t a concern. He’d never hidden anything for Azazel except what he thought he must. His body wasn’t on that list.
“…I couldn’t keep doing it. Don’t you ever tire of watching the same mistakes over and over again?” Chase’s voice had taken on an eerie hollowness, like the disinterested tone of a wise man.
‘I grow bored, but those like your companions are always interesting -more so than you some of the time.’ The endless eyes of Azazel slid to the form behind Mastema and then back. ‘I suppose hell has burnt away any empathy or sympathy I might have had for them. But I still felt for you. Even as Robert Chase you were still Mastema.’
“I am still Robert Chase.”
‘I know…I know.’
“So you can feel for me when I’m one of them. But you can’t feel for the rest of us?”
‘I am your ‘us’! They are…’
“They’re people.”
Robert searched the blackened eyes but they were steady and as unchanged as when he’d seen them last -many years, barely a blink in time ago.
Azazel saw too that Mastema had not really changed, even if he had a flesh and bone accessory in which to walk around in. He understood now why when Mastema ran from the tasks that were shredding the intricate but resilient being apart, why he didn’t run to his brother. He chose to fall only half way, but he hadn’t deserved to fall at all.
‘I hate your job and what it does to you.’
Robert, Mastema smiled sadly.
‘I hate that there is no one else who could do it. I hate that one day the summons will come and you’ll be forced to go back. I hate that I’ll let you. I hate them all.’
“I think I’ve already told you many times before that you hate too much.”
Azazel leaned forward. ‘Hate serves me well.’ His smile was wane, tortured. ‘But it doesn’t serve you. Always waiting and hoping for them to overcome -a genuine desire for the good of…mankind,’ he enunciated the last word harshly, ‘or a selfish desire to alleviate your own suffering?’
“Why not both?”
‘Because going both ways will tear you apart.’
His visitor and friend’s point made it across loud and clear but his mind was still that of a man and he couldn’t help the chuckle.
‘What?’
“Going both ways…”
‘Fuck, you really are one of them.’
“You say that now like it’s not such a bad thing.”
‘You’ve always been a convincing orator. Your sense of humour sucks though.’
“Oh, humour -did you invent that too?” Robert deadpanned.
‘I take credit for many things -swearing, deception -but I wash my hands of humour.’ Robert smiled at him again. Azazel smiled back. ‘I also take credit for eavesdropping.’
Robert gave him a glare and Azazel smiled harder. “You don’t have to pretend to be asleep, House.”
Behind him, bright blue eyes blinked open. “Sorry. I was enjoying listening to you talk to yourself.”
Chase twisted to look at him. “I was talking to him,” he said, and pointed to where Azazel sat.
House looked but didn’t see anyone at first. A second or two passed without comment and then House startled as a being appeared, sitting exactly where Chase had indicated.
“House...?” Chase inquired. The older man was looking pale and his eyes were wide with barely constrained terror. “Azazel, stop it!”
Azazel laughed at the physician’s reaction to him. ‘I’m not doing anything.’
But House was still frozen, a terrible awe written on his face.
“Stop it!” Chase lunged for Azazel. They were both surprised when they collided having expected that one of them would pass right through the other.
‘This isn’t possible.’
“It bloody well is! Leave him alone!” Chase had Azazel by the collar of his plain, charcoal shirt, and seated with his weight on the spectre’s waist. At his back he heard House suck in a pained breath. His hands fisted tighter. He pressed on Azazel’s throat, though a lack of air wasn’t going to hurt him in the least. “Leave him!”
‘Do you love him? Do you love these cosmic abominations and infantile creations? All their weakness, and ignorance?’
“I share your distaste. But I see a gift that we lack.”
‘They can’t save you. He can’t save you.’
“I’m not looking for a saviour. I’m looking for perspective, understanding.” His voice was calm on the surface. Underneath the fear for House made his pulse race.
‘What makes you think they have it?’
“Because we don’t!”
‘You love him don’t you?’
“No. I love you.”
House gasped. His eyes closed. The tension that contracted his muscles and pulled his frame ended. He flopped back onto the mattress, easing the searing in is lungs, and for the recently-threatened life of him not understanding what had just happened.
Chase didn’t turn around to check on him. He could hear the relief in House’s breaths; he could almost smell the tension leave the room. He closed his eyes.
Azazel struck.
It only took a blink and all of a sudden Chase was the one pinned to the floor, chest to chest with Azazel.
‘What surprises me…is that you’re not lying. So…why don’t you love him?’
“You don’t understand love at all.”
Azazel paused, reflecting for a moment. ‘I know enough to love you.’
The weight and warmth vanished. So did the man over him. Chase took a few deep breaths and raised his head enough to see House doing the same to look at him.
“Friend of yours?”
“More like…” He dropped back to the floor, knocking his head a little, “…more like brother. Are you okay? What did he do to you?”
House shook his head, eyes to the ceiling. He didn’t know how to describe the most complete sense of foreboding and pure menace he felt from that thing. It wasn’t the being itself that he’d reacted to, like a bad allergy. It was everything he represented. House shivered involuntarily.
“What are you?”
“I’m human.”
“Don’t give me that! What the fuck are you? What the hell is a Mastema?” House sat up and glared at him.
Chase felt himself wilt a little under the look. “You already know. Why does it have to be said again?”
“Maybe I just want to hear you admit it.”
Like a confession, Chase thought sourly. But what had he done wrong that he needed to confess. A pain tightened his chest and halted his breathing as more knowledge, more of what he’d locked away returned to him.
What didn’t he have to confess?
“Mastema…” House prompted cruelly. He was a man of little patience and his nerves were raw and still humming with the assault they’d just taken.
“…was tired, and weak, and angry. So…I ran.” Seated on the empty floor, his legs out before him and his head down in shame, he looked as small and pitiful as he felt. “I ran to the people who had caused it all because, you’re all immune to what you do to each other. I needed that reprieve. I just couldn’t do it anymore. Watching all the suffering and not being able to help. I wanted to reach out. I wanted to…guide them. But then I remembered…I did this to them. I brought the worst out and brought about their worst nightmares. Azrael welcomed them, Gabriel taught truth, and I hurt them.” Chase raised his eyebrows and gave a weak shrug.
“Then what happened to Robert Chase?” House demanded acidly. He wasn’t sure whether he believed or not but he was still sure of enough to be outraged at something hijacking the body of an innocent person.
Seeing the disgust, Chase scrambled over to the bed. “I am Robert Chase!”
“No, you’re Mastema.”
“Same thing!”
“Robert Chase was the son of Rowan Chase and whatever his mother’s name was. You took that body.”
“I saved that body! The baby wasn’t going to survive.”
“How would you know?”
This time Chase was the one who glared. He knew a lot of things suddenly that he didn’t understand how or why he knew. But he didn’t doubt any of it. And he couldn’t explain a fraction of it.
“I just know!”
“Then what about the…soul that should have been in that child. Where did you stuff him?”
“I didn’t do anything to him! He went to the same place other unborn souls go!”
The look he was being given told House not question the issue any further.
“I…saved that life. It was the best thing I’ve ever done. And then I forgot. I chose the life of a single human. I chose the experiences of his life, good and bad, over the experience of everyone.” Robert sighed. “I wanted to live a simple life for a while.”
“You could have picked better,” House said after a minute of emptiness. “You got a pretty shitty deal.”
“People have had much worse.”
“Yeah. And that’s sad but Robert Chase didn’t know that. And it doesn’t make his or anybody’s pain less valid.”
“I know. I’m so sorry.” Robert reached out to touch House but an inch before he made contact, House pulled away and sat up.
“I’ll find you some clothes.” Painfully, he scooted off the bed. Gratefully, Chase didn’t try to touch him again. House donned his jacket over his undershirt. “Stay here. Don’t let anyone in.” House gave the instructions without looking at the Chase and exited the apartment the same way. Chase sat there and watched him go, part of him hoping that House left him behind and didn’t come back.
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An unguarded clothing line provided House with free garments for Chase. No underwear so he had to go commando but that was the least of their problems. Money was next. A trip to the First International Bank of Israel managed to give them the equivalent of a few hundred US dollars. Getting anymore from Chase’s Swiss account would take a few days but he’d been allowed a small advance after his Swiss banker vouched for him. House had not kept his rich-boy comment to himself when Chase reluctantly informed him of his Swiss account. Chase had explained the account was for the occasions when he knew he had to lie low, and the Swiss account allowed him access to the small stockpile of funds in many places.
The rest of the day was filled with mindless, dreary tasks, like getting new clothes for Chase, that didn’t look like they’d been stolen from some person’s laundry line. A black turtleneck, a pair of pants and a cheap pair of shoes was all he got. House bought a new shirt but was more concerned with his waning supply of Vicodin. He’d managed to eke out his supply thus far and could probably do the same for the next few days but he’d need a refill soon.
“Come on we need to make a phone call,” House stated.
“To whom?”
“Wilson. I need more pills.”
“Can this wait until tomorrow?” Chase couldn’t help the looks he threw over his shoulder. He was more than paranoid that at any moment, Voorhees and friends would jump out and catch them. He knew that going to such a large, well known bank was a risk, but starvation and exposure was a bigger one so they’d had no choice but to chance it. He was certain that in a few hours, if not sooner, an ally of the Tenth Order’s would be at the bank inquiring about some of the foreign visitors they had earlier.
“No, this can’t wait!” A small mall provided cover and a public phone. Making the long distance call to the US was a challenge in itself but finally the line rang and House breathed in relief when the familiar voice picked up. “Me again,” he greeted casually.
“God, House! Are you guys okay? Where are you?”
“I need a prescription.”
“That’s going to be difficult with you on the other side of the planet.”
“We’re not on the other side…” House trailed off as he realized that Chase wasn’t near him. “Shit!”
“What is it?” Wilson’s voice tightened in response to the panic he heard in his friend’s.
“Chase. I can’t…never mind. I found him.” House glared at the young man who was seated on the armrest of a rickety bench near the entrance they had come through. Chase met House’s eyes and gave him an annoyed look. House suppressed his smile of amusement. He couldn’t reconcile what Chase said he was and what he seemed to be, as the man continued to act like the Chase House had always known.
“You have to stop scaring me like that.”
“Gotta keep your heart in good shape. Look, there’s a clinic nearby. I’ll give you their number. You call them and tell them whatever you need to tell them to get me my pills.”
“House…” Wilson drawled uncertainly.
He didn’t need this. He had enough to deal with without adding Wilson’s constant guilt-tripping. “I need my pills!” House looked over at Chase. “I also need a leash for my fellow.” House quickly gave Wilson the information he needed and went to Chase who was currently talking to two men. They were both pretty young, around Chase’s age but the constant grins on their faces put an icy feeling in House’s stomach.
“Time to go!”
All three men were startled. “What are you doing?” Chase demanded as House took him by the wrist and forced him away.
“You can turn tricks on your own time.”
“I wasn’t turning a trick, you bloody bastard!”
“Then what were you discussing? The weather? The local sports team?”
“No, just the really important stuff, like where are you from and how long are you staying.” Chase wrenched his arm free but didn’t have the strength to keep his balance. He managed to stay upright thanks to the outer wall of the mall. “What the hell is wrong with you anyway?”
House stared at him. What the hell wasn’t wrong? “We need to eat. You haven’t eaten in a while. Might be carrying the quest for thinness a little too far.”
“Fuck you.”
“Did Mastema’s infinite wisdom come up with that witty retort?” House limped off.
Chase quickly caught up. “No. Azazel likes to take credit for those.” Chase walked on when House paused.
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An entire week they spent sniping at and taking care of each other. At some times House was steps from force feeding Chase and at others Chase was physically keeping House from swallowing a whole bottle of his newly filled prescription. There had been a “mistake” at the pharmacy and House had been given he wrong ones, which he soon discovered when his leg pain and withdrawal symptoms began to show up. The pharmacy had been adamant that they had made no mistake but neither House nor Chase believed them. Finally, unable to take anymore, Chase had run to the pharmacy and forcefully made his way behind the counter to search their stock.
For nearly two hours he’d rifled through the shelves of pills and powders and creams looking for the Vicodin that was supposed to be there. The employees had been yelling at him all the while but as Chase had expected, they didn’t call the police.
Hatikva was one of Tel Aviv’s most notorious slums and it didn’t receive its reputation because of the outstanding moral fibres of the businesses and residents. Eventually Chase had found his target and with a challenging and hostile glare at the employees and the patrons of the pharmacy he left with an unhealthy supply of the drug House needed and a few bottles of water, just because.
“They were probably selling the good pills on the street for a higher profit and selling the bad stuff to the few patients they actually have,” Chase said more because he didn’t know what to say. House had just taken the pills and was lying listless and glassy-eyed on the bed, his agony filling the room. “I’ve heard of people watering down insulin and other drugs before. I don’t want to contemplate how many people might--”
“Shut up, please, would you?” House grumbled and immediately felt worse without the accented voice to annoy and keep his mind off the pain in his thigh.
The bed dipped with an added weight. House shifted his gaze away from the blurry ceiling to his most recent roommate. Strangely, Chase looked to be almost in as much pain as him.
“I’m sorry.” What was Chase apologizing for? Chase didn’t know; neither did House.
“You didn’t do this,” House stated simply because it was fact and not to ease the gloom in his companion’s eyes, or so he told himself.
Chase trailed his eyes over the pained form, thinking thoughts too deep and alien to be expressed clearly.
“Not you too,” House groaned. Chase’s eyes drew up to his face. “Why do people always think I need to be saved?”
“Maybe because you’re hurting yourself and seem content to do it until it finally destroys you.”
“You’ve given this some thought.”
“There’s only you, me and your pain in this room, so yeah, it has crossed my mind.”
“Fine. Keep your opinions to yourself. I don’t need to be saved, and certainly not by you.”
“What makes you think you don’t deserve to be saved?”
“Just…shut up. Please…”
It took forty minutes for the painkiller to finally work its magic. Chase stayed at House’s side (mostly in silence) until he saw the lines of strain ease from the older face. With the pain receding and House’s walls returning to their usual fortitude Chase knew it was time to retreat, give House his space.
House rose to support his upper body on his elbow and took a moment to stare at Chase as he stood by the window. He looked depressed. House didn’t know it but Chase’s thoughts had been turning to someone at whom he was trying to be angry at.
After a few minutes of his staring going by unnoticed, and seeing the moisture glaze the dulled eyes House had his conclusion. He didn’t have any words though.
“Hey, how you feeling?” Chase asked after a noticing with a quick glance that House was half-up.
“Better.” Judging from the colour of the sunlight illuminating Chase House judged that it must be late evening. The hue of the light made the golden hair a warmer, more bronzed shade and with the strands hanging over his forehead and brushed just away from his eyes, Chase looked younger than the years that he was.
“A few more days and we’re home-free,” House stated.
Chase simply nodded.
“Well don’t be so happy about it.”
Chase forced a smirk of amusement but it didn’t reach his eyes, because even after the immediate dangers passed he would never be the same.
“I am, of course, going to make your life hell once we get back to New Jersey,” House threatened. Chase nodded but didn’t seem concerned, or even to be listening. “I’ll also garnish your wages to make up for the pain and mental anguish you’ve caused me.”
“Yeah, sure…”
House sat up and shifted to rest on foot on the floor. “You don’t plan on coming back do you?” There was no response this time. “Chase!”
“What?” That startled him out of his reverie.
“You’re coming back to work after this is over,” House commanded.
Chase shrugged. “I don’t know.” He watched the people move about outside for a bit more. “I don’t have anything else, I guess.”
“You still have your life, your job, and you have more information than when this mess started.”
“I also don’t have Warren. If you’re trying to cheer me up, you’re doing a crappy job.”
“I don’t do cheer.”
“Explains why you’re out of practice.”
“What I do, do is information gathering.”
“Information you simply lord over people to manipulate them.”
“That’s because so many of them seem so content to ignore it and continue with their paltry bliss. You’re a prime example. You’ve finally been given information to explain everything and you’re just ignoring it, pretending like you’re the same person you were a week ago.”
“I am the same person.”
“Nobody’s the same person they were a week ago, but most of us don’t have a whole alternate life to pretend doesn’t exist.”
“Lucky for everybody else.”
“So why aren’t you embracing your newfound god-hood?”
Chase glared at House, for his wording and for his continuation of a topic that he did not want to discuss. “Because I don’t want it, but I can’t un-remember everything I know now.”
“How much do you remember?”
Chase shook his head. “Not much, but more comes back each moment, and I don’t want it.”
“Then you’re just going to have to suck it up.”
“Thanks, your pep talk really did the trick,” Chase sniped.
“I never said I wouldn’t be there to help.” House said it casually, eyes down on the pattern of unravelling stitches in the mattress. Chase didn’t look over, knowing better than to put House on the spot at a time like this. He didn’t think House was screwing with him, so he didn’t feel the need to search his expression for subterfuge.
“Thanks.”
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He was walking in his dream again. He seemed to be doing a lot of that of late. When he was awake Chase mused that it was symbolised a journey but he wasn’t awake and so he walked.
Each step was difficult, as though he were walking through water but there was nothing that he could see weighing him down.
He felt Angelica join him, matching his pace but staying silent. Others came joining him and they kept walking. The worlds around them changed -changed seasons, changed regions, changed times. The screaming faces remained the same, until they became familiar. They became the faces of people he knew, people he cared for. Yet when they screamed, their eyes melting from their head, and the flesh falling from their bones he only looked to the massive population of beings like Angelica that walked with him and smiled.
More than six billion people were to perish in their own personal hells, having turned against each other and themselves. Even the righteous and holy drowned in the swamping tide of malevolence.
A frail hand grasped at his leg. Chase stopped walking and looked down at the woman. He felt nothing for her as she begged for mercy for her and the baby suckling weakly at her breast.
“No,” was his easy response.
The child in her arm bit down hard. The woman shrieked, ripping the child away from her. Eyes filled with tears and hate, she raised the infant above her head and brought it down to strike against the jagged ground.
His gasp filled the room and air filled his lungs. Panic had him trying to sit up but an arm around him kept him down. Intense words of reassurance from a deep voice broke through the haze left by his nightmare, his omen, and only after his quickly found resolution did he begin to relax and appreciate the hand under his shirt rest on his stomach and the thumb stroking across the skin.
“What is it?” House asked and felt a shiver slip through the body under his hand.
“Just…just another nightmare,” Chase whispered back, eyes staring straight ahead at the ceiling. Another nightmare that he would ensure would not come true.
Beside him, House tried to push aside his frustration. His tenuous grasp of the situation wasn’t enough to find a conclusion or a solution. All he could was provide a little comfort -as he had been more and more over these past days -and hope that they’d last the two more days they needed. He didn’t know that Chase was trying to make sure they survived the next few days.
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---H/C---
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Doctor Cameron had finally tracked him down a patient’s room. Or outside of it since the chaos within couldn’t handle visitors at the moment. Whatever Cameron was about to tell him died in her throat as she caught site of Angelica Brown, once again caught up in the throws of her delusions.
“You have to let me go! I have to get out of here!”
With much difficulty Dr. Henderson and the nurses put the woman in restraints.
“No! Don’t I’ll stop! I’ll be good!” Angelica bargained but the light in her eyes showed that she intended to do no such thing.
Henderson loaded a syringe with a mild sedative and administered it to the woman.
“You don’t understand. He doesn’t understannd…” she said sadly “He needs my help… Or you’re all going to parish.”
The tired nurses left the room with no regard for her words. Henderson had little more regard for Angelica than them. “I’ve had enough of this,” he stated, his frustration with the situation evident in the lines of fatigue around his eyes. “She needs the anti-psychotics.”
Wilson and Cameron let him walk away without a word.
“She was doing better with the antibiotics,” Cameron stated.
The oncologist nodded in agreement but didn’t speak.
Unsure about the older man’s silence Dr. Cameron tentatively continued with what reason she had sought him out in the first place. “Agent Jerome provided for us and update of the investigation for Chase and House. Apparently Chase has a Swiss account so they’re going to see if tries to access it from anywhere. They’ve also been in contact with some people in Israel but he couldn’t tell us any more than that.”
A nod was the only response.
“She may just be schizophrenic.” Allison didn’t know why Wilson was so open to the possibility that the patient had anything beyond what was already written in her file. Though at times even she was captivated by the clear eyes and uncanny insight the woman seemed to have once she was off her medications. As though the fractured mind and temporarily mended itself, Angelica would look at her, seeming to see into the core of her being. They had even conversed briefly a few times and the woman was truly insightful, so much so that sometimes it was as if she was psychic. She could practically hear House reminding her that just because the woman was crazy didn’t mean the she wasn’t perceptive.
“Probably.” Wilson’s response tripped Cameron out of her thoughts. Before she could regain her footing Wilson was walking away.
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---H/C---
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“Where the hell have you been?” House yelled as soon as Chase came in the only door to the miniscule apartment.
Chase didn’t seem fazed by the outburst. He thrust some documents and a little folder at House and held them against the man’s chest when he didn’t move to take them. “Here, take these, go home.”
“What--”
“It’s a ticket to New York. Take it and go home. You can’t stay here.”
House stared down at Chase, those calculating azure eyes trying not to miss any of the information clearly expressed on face before him. He reached up. Chase followed the motion of the hands expecting them to take the documents. Instead, after hooking his cane to the crook of his elbow, House grasped Chase around his wrists.
Surprised, Chase tried to move back but couldn’t, not with the vice around his wrists.
“I think you would have figured by now that I’m not an idiot. I know what you’re trying to do.”
“Then let me go and go home.” Chase tried to pull back again but House’s hands didn’t budge. Bum leg or not, House was still quite strong. “You’re not helping, I don’t want you here, and you don’t want to be here.”
“I’ve been taking pages from your book, doing things I don’t want to do.” Chase didn’t respond except for his eyes narrowing and his struggle to free himself renewing. “This is joke right? Tell me you didn’t spend what little money we had left on a plane ticket!”
“Go to the embassy tell them you lost your passport, they’ll help you and then you can get you out of here.”
“I’m not going anywhere!” House’s hands squeezed tighter and Chase clenched his jaw in both frustration and discomfort as the long fingers dug into his flesh.
“Just fucking go, House! I’m sick of sharing the bed with you, and I’m sick of sharing this room with you! I’m just sick of you! I don’t know how I ever liked you, but I’ve been cured of it. So do us both a favour and just fuck off!”
Chase held House’s eyes, knowing that if House saw any uncertainty he’d pounce on it. But just because it couldn’t be seen didn’t mean that House didn’t know it was there. He was ready to begin round two, many witty and unbeatable arguments already coming to mind but he stopped, or was stopped. Cold fear gripped his insides and stole his breath. A chill travelled down his spine and the room, formerly lit with early afternoon sun, was now filled with shadows. From the corner of his blurring vision the shadows seemed to shift and move to crowd around him. The stray thought in his mind that he had rejected early on, was now back with a vengeance that deafened him and all his other thoughts.
Take it.
Go home.
Leave him.
House closed his eyes trying to lock out the thoughts. It didn’t work. And when he opened his eyes, his hands no longer held Chase’s wrist. They had the flight voucher and itinerary and his feet where carrying him to the door. As he stepped out, House turned back, fighting with himself and the impossibly strong urges for one last look back.
The room was filled with living shadows, their patterns shifting and merging on the floor and on the walls. Chase was still standing there, head hung and back to the door. Without warning the door swung on its squeaking hinges and slammed closed. One last shadow seemed to hurtle at House and it forced him to practically run down the half flight of stairs to the building’s exit and out into the warm sun.
Later, standing outside the gated complex of the United States Embassy, House would be dreaming of soft white light. A guard behind the main gate would ask him if he needed help and when House met the soldier’s eyes to respond he’d recall familiar blue-green turn to soft, radiant white. The anger would mount, the thoughts of flight would turn to fight, and the implanted suggestions would evaporate.
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---H/C---
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He needed the money. That was all it came down to. It was probably the same for everybody who chose to do this.
The plane ticket had used all but a few dollars of they money he had left from the bank. The transfer from his Swiss account was hitting some snags and he could only get a little out every few days. His next withdrawal wouldn’t be available until Monday if he was lucky, and it was only Thursday. The landlady was breathing down his neck about the rent he owed and he knew she was just a breath away from kicking him out. But for now he still had a room, and it would provide him with what he needed to make it through the weekend: a place to do business.
It was the same two men he’d met at the small mall about a week ago. The same two men House had forcibly dragged him away from and then accused him of propositioning. He really hadn’t been that time, but when he’d gone out to try and buy some food earlier, only to find that he couldn’t afford anything, running into those two again seemed like some cruel poetic justice. And like the last time, they propositioned him. But unlike the last time, Chase accepted.
They climbed the stairs behind him, murmuring to each other in Hebrew and laughing too. At his door Chase fumbled for the key to the flat. Just as he retrieved it, the two men became impatient and Chase found himself pinned against the door. Rough lips pressed against his neck and a tight grip in his hair angled his head back for better access.
Another set of hands began their own exploration; one slipping under his shirt and the other down the front of his pants, the unwelcome but inescapable caresses making him nauseous.
Chase’s eyes fell on a half open door just down the corridor. It was the single washroom afforded to this floor of the complex, and Chase felt the urge to dash there and lock himself in.
Later, he promised himself.
The man with his face buried in Chase’s neck guided his hand and the key to the lock on the door, getting it opened and letting the three of them in. Chase reached for the awkwardly positioned light switch but the two men didn’t let him move far enough to get it where it was located near the hinge of the door.
As though it sensed his need for light, the bulb came on, shining its weak yellow light. But the light-bulb was as inanimate as it ever had been. The true culprit was standing next to the light switch, menace and infuriation written in every line of his body.
“House?” Chase sounded both happy and dismayed to see him.
The two strangers pulled back a little but didn’t let go of the body they had been promised a ride on.
“What are-”
A blink of fair eyes and a flash of metal had a small gun trained on the nearest of the two strangers. He froze, staring down the barrel of the firearm and his friend began looking for an opening in which to attack.
“Christ, House! Put the gun down!” Chase began towards House, thinking that House had misunderstood the situation.
House hadn’t misunderstood. He’d miscalculated.
The aim of the gun changed, leaving the Israeli man and pointing square at the Australian.
“…H…House?”
“You two, out!” The deep and forceful command and the nod of his head to the exit crossed the language barrier and the two men retreated. He should have known that the two friends would defend each other, but they wouldn’t risk injury for a stranger.
House, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you at the airport? Why do you have a gun on me? All very good questions, none of which Chase could manage to articulate with the stare of the gun and the more fearsome stare of his employer both on him.
Chase barely realized what happened before he found himself pressed against the wall, the light switch digging into his back and House’s left hand gripping the front of his shirt. With his right hand holding the gun, his left also held his cane, the hard length of which was bearing down on his chest. But those discomforts were minor compared to the sight of a gun so close to him that his eyes couldn’t even bring it into proper focus.
The cold metal brushed a trail across his cheek until the tip pressed into his temple.
“I don’t care if you’re trying to save the entire world…don’t ever pull one of those…manipulation tricks on me again.”
Mouth parted and panic-filled eyes locked onto the ones that had held his since the gun moved out of his sight, Chase nodded, though it appeared more like a shiver.
Just scare him, that’s all House had originally intended to do when he decided to return. The gun’s purpose was protection for both of them. It was a purpose fulfilled by getting rid of those two men, but now, with Chase against him, eyes seeing only him and his breathes coming in short, quick puffs, House didn’t want to let him go, not until the other feeling in him was resolved.
The sight and sounds of those men touching Chase, kissing his him, it had set his anger into rage. How dare those men touch Chase? How dare Chase allow them to? And House himself, how dare he feel jealous?
Before he could think through what he was doing, House found a way to solve the problem. He brought his lips to Chase and pushed his tongue between the already parted lips, staking his own claim and sealing his resolve.
Chase, for his part, didn’t do anything. The metal tip of the gun was still at his temple, the cold touch warming with each passing second that it remained there.
House ended the kiss and hobbled back a step. He yanked Chase forward and flung him towards the bed. Chase stumbled into it but would have kept his balance if House had not pushed him down on to it.
“House, stop it!” Chase yelled, feeling out of sorts and not sure how to return things to normal. The hard press of what Chase correctly assumed was the gun into his upper back ended his struggles.
“Is this what you wanted?”
The question was followed by the flutter of paper. Israeli banknotes fell around him, the images of face and places he didn’t know filling his vision. Twenty, fifty, one hundred New Israeli Sheqel bills fell, all together several times what the two strangers had agreed to pay him.
“You were going to sell yourself to them right? Well now I’m a paying customer too.”
With a rough hand House pulled Chase’s shirt off and his pants down to his knees. Chase struggled against him but the press of the cool metal took most of the fight away from him.
House laid himself over the smaller man, wishing he could feel the naked skin on him. He wasn’t willing to give up the power though. With the gun now in his left hand still pressed against the side of Chase’s face, he busied his right hand between the blond’s legs. House’s remarkable skill with masturbation made the flaccid organ completely stiff quite quickly.
He was shaking, panting, a wreck with the sensation and House took it all in. House watched the flushed face and the tightly shut eyes. He felt and heard every change in his touch illicit a different response. He played the young man’s body like he played with his mind, twisted him to do as he desired, manipulated and took retribution. And then one sound brought it all to an end.
It was a sob, a gasp, a breath all in one. It broke through the possessive lust and anger. There was pain in that sound, pain he realized he didn’t mean to cause until he actually discovered it.
House’s hand stopped. The firearm dropped to the floor with a heavy clatter.
The sounds outside stopped, as though everyone was waiting.
“Chase…Robert…”
The blue-green eyes opened and met his. There was so much swirling in there that House doubted Chase could decipher it all. House faced a dilemma, one not entirely of his own making but completely in his control. If he continued with his power play he could probably bring Chase to the most devastating orgasm of his life. But he couldn’t. Now matter how good his body would feel, Chase would never trust him again. House hoped that he hadn’t gone too far already.
He brushed his thumb against the cheek where the metal of the gun had been pressing before. The warm erased the chill.
House began again his strokes on Chase’s member, but a flash of motion had Chase’s trembling hand over his, halting him.
“I…I didn’t…want them…” Chase confessed shakily, though House knew that already. “I needed…I needed the money.”
“I have that. So now…what do you need?”
From the look in Chase’s eyes House knew the young man didn’t know what the answer was, probably wasn’t sure what House meant by the question. House made a suggestion. He stroked up the length of the hot flesh in his hand. The resistance of Chase’s hand made the motion slow but though he could have stopped it, he didn’t.
House moved his lips to the shell of a delicate ear and breathed out, “What do you want Robert?”
A series of short strokes over the tip pulled a moan out.
House thrust his groin against Chase’s hip, his surprisingly aching cock demanding attention. While waiting for Chase to return, he’d taken enough Vicodin to numb him from head to toe for a day, so House was surprised he was hard at all. But he was so he went with it. His lips descended on Chase’s neck replacing the scent left by the two Israeli men. His right hand continued to work Chase’s arousal, despite the half-hearted restraint the younger man’s hand was making.
The resistance became full-fledged when House tried to kiss him. Chase’s head twisted to the side.
“Stop.” Chase didn’t make it a request and went further by slipping out from under the other man. He put space between them, pulled his pants and underwear up from around his knees, but didn’t reach for the rest of his clothing where they lay on the floor.
House shifted to his side and looked expectantly at Chase.
“What are we doing?”
“You’re sitting nearly naked on a crappy bed. I’m lying clothed on-”
“House…”
House looked away and sighed. “I thought what we were doing was pretty obvious.”
“Then why?”
“Because I want to.” House turned his gaze to Chase’s erection. “And because you want to.”
Chase’s gaze was steady and contemplative. His breathing was deep but the pace was normal, the storm of his arousal having dimmed under the onslaught of thought.
“So…it’s not just…revenge,” he ventured.
“You must think I’m a real fucking bastard that I’d use sex to hurt you.”
“Better people have done worse,” Chase countered, supremely aware that House hadn’t given him an answer.
“I’ll bet they have.” Neither questioned how Chase knew what other people did. Chase knew he knew, and House knew that people sucked. “But who says they’re better?”
“Popular opinion?”
House brought his right leg across his left, turning onto his back so that he could talk (since it appeared he must) without needing a chiropractor later. Some small objects in his pant pocket shifted and clinked together. The sound was soft, muffled by the fabric around it but Chase’s ears picked it up and tuned out whatever House had begun to say.
Eyes narrowed on the pocket Chase climbed over House, pushed him down to the bed with one hand and reached into the pocket with the other.
What he found confounded him at first. Bullets, four of them, and at least one more still in the pants.
“The gun...it wasn’t loaded?”
House smiled innocently for a moment before speaking sincerely. “They weren’t going to make me shoot them. I wasn’t going to shoot you.” He slipped a hand to the back of Chase’s neck and pulled his angry face closer. “And I wasn’t going to rape you.”
Chase’s jaw remained clenched and his eyes remained angry for several seconds. “I won’t manipulate you like that again. And you, don’t ever pull a gun on me ever again, loaded or not.”
“Deal. So, negotiations concluded. Everything settled to princess’s satisfaction. Can we fuck now?”
“My God, you’re romantic.”
End Chapter 10
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- - - H/C - - -
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Cast and Characters
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Chase/OMC, House/Chase
Summary: The marks of the saints and a past he won’t remember force Chase and House to face religion head on. They won’t get his fellow without a fight!
Spoilers: Up to season 4 Finale.
Genre: Drama, Supernatural
Disclaimer: I don’t own House. I’m not making any money off this story.
Chapter Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Language, Adult Situations, Violence, M/M relationships. Do not read this story if any of these bother you!
A/N: My apologies for neglecting this story. Sort of lost interest…
Chapter 10: Identity Crisis
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---H/C---
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“So what have I missed?” Wilson asked casually as he strode into to diagnostics conference room. For a moment he paused at the eerie image that the two fellows at the table and the older man at the whiteboard brought up.
“Infection.” Henderson stated.
“I thought she’d already been treated for her infection.”
Foreman sighed -the absurdity of their idea not lost on him. “Another infection -one that didn’t respond to the broad spectrum antibiotics she was given.”
Wilson didn’t know what to say in to the anticipatory silence. Three sets of eyes looked at him, gauging his response, his opinion of they’re latest theory. “Uh-huh…” was all he ventured.
“It could be an infection attacking her brain,” Foreman suggested as though the repetition made the theory true.
“Well, Angelica is a little more lucid,” Wilson announced. He took a seat at the table. “She’s now quite adamant that both she and Chase are supernatural beings.”
Cameron shook her head. “Her delusion is become more real to her. The anti-psychotics aren’t working.”
“Then lets take her off of them,” Henderson asserted facetiously, only to have the others actually consider the suggestion. “I was kidding.”
“No you’re right. We’ve been so eager to try alternative therapies but we refuse to fully embrace our theory. As long as we keep her on the anti-psychotics we’ll never know for certain how the other treatments are affecting her,” Cameron endorsed.
Henderson shook his head. “Take a diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic off her medication? Cuddy will never approve this.”
The other three looked at him. What they were suggesting was actually quite tame compared to the usual schemes that echoed in that room.
“You’d be surprised what Cuddy will let you do if you ask right,” Foreman said conspiratorially.
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---H/C---
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Ten days, Mayes had told him. Ten days and Chase would be safe, or at least not in danger of being killed by deranged religious groups. Unfortunately they didn’t have the equipment to stay in the bush for ten day, or even one night so that meant finding shelter, preferably one that would take a promise of payment rather than actual payment, since neither of them had any money. A trek up the bank, back to the highway was the first and most difficult order of business. It was painful for both of them. House took one of his few remaining Vicodin and offered one to Chase who accepted. What type of pain Chase was seeking relief from, House didn’t know but he was too tired to speculate.
Fortunately getting a ride to a nearby district of Tel Aviv wasn’t difficult. In what was mostly Mastema’s doing, he picked out from the stream of passing cars the one that would help them. So, House waved and the driver did stop. And that wasn’t where the oddities ended.
House was versed in many languages, his father travelling all over the world on different tours of duty and dragging him and his mother around with him saw to that. He knew for a fact that Chase spoke only English, Czech, and very basic Japanese and Mandarin. He should not have been able to converse fluently in Hebrew with the Israeli man. Chase did the same with the middle aged couple who owned a small, run down, low-rise apartment in Hatikva. In words House couldn’t decipher, Chase somehow convinced the couple to give them a room.
House kept his comments until he locked the door of their new accommodations behind them.
“I didn’t know you spoke Hebrew.”
Chase didn’t face him when he responded with, “Ani lo medaber Ivrit.” ( I don’t speak Hebrew.)
Their new lodgings were rustic, to put it nicely, and decrepit, to put it cruelly. It was one small room with, no bathroom, no kitchen, and the only furniture was a twin mattress sitting on a weak, wooden frame in the corner. The minimal movements of the two men in the small room kicked up dust into the stale, musty air.
Chase coughed as he dusted off the mattress. He didn’t want to consider what he might be breathing in and what it might do to him. After working in PPTH’s diagnostics department, and after being so close to so many terrible illnesses from some of the most innocuous sources, it was a constant battle not to become a hypochondriac.
He sat down with a silent sigh, too weary to put enough breath into it to make a sound. After several seconds, in which Chase stared morosely at the wall and House stared suspiciously at Chase, the older man braved the walk and the dusty furnishings to sit next to him.
House had nothing to say or, more precisely, too much and no words to put it in. Chase spoke first.
“You should find the American Embassy and get out of here.”
The sound of a poorly running vehicle just outside nearly drowned out the soft suggestion and the equally faint response.
“We’ll find the Australian Embassy first. They-”
“They can’t help me. I’ve made the mistake of going to the authorities before.” Chase shook his head and closed his eyes. “They have too many friends, too many connections. I wouldn’t make it out of the country. But if you’re not here they can’t use you against me.”
“But if I’m not here, then you’re alone. And you’re not in the best of shape.”
There was no response to that. House grew impatient.
“Do you want to go through this alone? Say yes and I’ll go -makes no difference to me either way. If you don’t want me here,” he leaned forward trying to catch Chase’s eyes, “then look me in the eye and tell me.”
Composure wrenching seconds passed as House awaited the answer. Chase’s shoulder rose and fell with tremulous breaths until finally he turned and looked into his one remaining ally’s eyes.
“I can’t…I’m so tired.”
House didn’t doubt that. What he couldn’t be sure of was to whom he was speaking, because Chase’s eyes had gone that luminescent white again and he couldn’t look away until Chase closed his eyes.
They both needed rest. They could deal with the rest of their problems after the sun rose. House removed his button-up shirt and spread it over the mattress at the end of the bed furthest from the door. He’d been wearing it for days and it smelt strongly of him, but it was either that or lay their heads on the dusty mattress. The rest of their bodies could manage but inhaling breath after breath of months, if not years, of dust build-up was not going to do either of them any good.
Without words or instructions the two men laid themselves down. Joints ached and muscles pained as they tried to relax on the thin padding. When they were at last settled they were on their sides, facing each other and close enough that their knees brushed.
“I guess it could be worse,” House drawled. Chase blinked blearily back at him and waited for the rest of the thought. “I could be stuck in the same bed with Foreman.”
Chase smiled sleepily and a few minutes later House was sure he was asleep. One last glance around assured House that they were alone, and he allowed his body its surrender.
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---H/C---
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Angelica would not have been aware of what was going on around her. She was already heavily medicated to mediate her diagnosed psychosis. To that already nauseating cocktail of medications they had added the anti-epileptics. So when two doctors came in and began speaking to her in slow simple words they didn’t truly believe that she comprehended what they were saying.
“Well at least she looks pleased about it,” Dr. Foreman noted while he wrote in her chart.
“You could have been telling her that the planet was about to implode and she’d still smile at you. It’s the medications.”
“Let’s hope it’s not because she’s going to have to do without them for a while.” They had left orders to have Angelica quickly weaned off the anti-psychotics. Whatever her response they hoped that it would be easier to decipher without the medicated cloud blocking the patient from her doctors.
Foreman replaced the file into the holder at the foot of the bed. With nothing else to say he tried to return a smile to the woman. He left after a minor success. Henderson followed a moment later.
Angelica’s head lolled to the left, to the window where her companion sat, a comforting dark shadow under the warmth of a waning sun.
“This is better,” she whispered. The phantom agreed.
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---H/C---
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They weren’t alone when they woke. Chase woke first, and woke tired, though not to the extent he had been the night before. The sun was up and the dingy window that he and he doubted House even noticed was allowing bright sunlight to stream through, leaving a pool of light on the floor and washing out the dank room with a golden glow. It was almost enough to hide the layer of dust already in the room. But it wasn’t the sunlight that had awoken him.
“Hi,” Chase greeted before his eyes were completely open. He knew who was there. He could feel the presence in every fibre of his being. He didn’t know how he didn’t miss this feeling because now he felt he couldn’t go for long without it.
‘I though I’d look in on you.’
“You’re always looking in -or sending something to look in. I wish you wouldn’t.”
‘You weren’t supposed to be able to detect them with corporeal senses.’
With his back to and brushing against House’s side and his head pillowed on an arm he had to sit up carefully to make sure he didn’t cause the other man to wake. The chill had continued to seep in as the night progressed and Chase had removed House’s jacket that he was wearing to drape it over both of them. It had required some crafty positioning of his body next to House, since the blazer was only so big, but he didn’t mind and House never complained. Chase realized that he liked the sleeping House, as much as funny House, and tender House. The jury was still out on ‘I-know-what’s-best-for-everyone’ House.
“Well, I could feel them.”
‘We weren’t the only ones sending…things to check up on you.’
“I know, and I’ll talk to Azrael later.” In the quiet Chase stared at the apparition. “Nice face.”
‘I can change it if you like.’
Chase smiled. “No. It’s your face too, Azazel. I guess.”
‘Thank you.’
“I see you picked up sarcasm.”
The man seated cross-legged on the floor next to the bed laughed. A few strands of dark blond hair fell onto his forehead as he tilted his head . ‘I invented sarcasm.’
“Well meet one of your many disciples.” Chase nodded back to House who was still fast asleep.
‘We’ve met.’
The smile on Chase’s face drained away.
‘You don’t trust me,’ Azazel accused more than asked.
“I love you. I know you. And I know your…purpose. It’s not one that’s good for him.”
‘Neither is your purpose. In fact, we’re one in the same.’
“I know.” Robert swung his bare legs over edge of the bed to plant his cold feet on the colder floor. The wrap was still tied around him but it had ridden up to his waist during the night. It wasn’t a concern. He’d never hidden anything for Azazel except what he thought he must. His body wasn’t on that list.
“…I couldn’t keep doing it. Don’t you ever tire of watching the same mistakes over and over again?” Chase’s voice had taken on an eerie hollowness, like the disinterested tone of a wise man.
‘I grow bored, but those like your companions are always interesting -more so than you some of the time.’ The endless eyes of Azazel slid to the form behind Mastema and then back. ‘I suppose hell has burnt away any empathy or sympathy I might have had for them. But I still felt for you. Even as Robert Chase you were still Mastema.’
“I am still Robert Chase.”
‘I know…I know.’
“So you can feel for me when I’m one of them. But you can’t feel for the rest of us?”
‘I am your ‘us’! They are…’
“They’re people.”
Robert searched the blackened eyes but they were steady and as unchanged as when he’d seen them last -many years, barely a blink in time ago.
Azazel saw too that Mastema had not really changed, even if he had a flesh and bone accessory in which to walk around in. He understood now why when Mastema ran from the tasks that were shredding the intricate but resilient being apart, why he didn’t run to his brother. He chose to fall only half way, but he hadn’t deserved to fall at all.
‘I hate your job and what it does to you.’
Robert, Mastema smiled sadly.
‘I hate that there is no one else who could do it. I hate that one day the summons will come and you’ll be forced to go back. I hate that I’ll let you. I hate them all.’
“I think I’ve already told you many times before that you hate too much.”
Azazel leaned forward. ‘Hate serves me well.’ His smile was wane, tortured. ‘But it doesn’t serve you. Always waiting and hoping for them to overcome -a genuine desire for the good of…mankind,’ he enunciated the last word harshly, ‘or a selfish desire to alleviate your own suffering?’
“Why not both?”
‘Because going both ways will tear you apart.’
His visitor and friend’s point made it across loud and clear but his mind was still that of a man and he couldn’t help the chuckle.
‘What?’
“Going both ways…”
‘Fuck, you really are one of them.’
“You say that now like it’s not such a bad thing.”
‘You’ve always been a convincing orator. Your sense of humour sucks though.’
“Oh, humour -did you invent that too?” Robert deadpanned.
‘I take credit for many things -swearing, deception -but I wash my hands of humour.’ Robert smiled at him again. Azazel smiled back. ‘I also take credit for eavesdropping.’
Robert gave him a glare and Azazel smiled harder. “You don’t have to pretend to be asleep, House.”
Behind him, bright blue eyes blinked open. “Sorry. I was enjoying listening to you talk to yourself.”
Chase twisted to look at him. “I was talking to him,” he said, and pointed to where Azazel sat.
House looked but didn’t see anyone at first. A second or two passed without comment and then House startled as a being appeared, sitting exactly where Chase had indicated.
“House...?” Chase inquired. The older man was looking pale and his eyes were wide with barely constrained terror. “Azazel, stop it!”
Azazel laughed at the physician’s reaction to him. ‘I’m not doing anything.’
But House was still frozen, a terrible awe written on his face.
“Stop it!” Chase lunged for Azazel. They were both surprised when they collided having expected that one of them would pass right through the other.
‘This isn’t possible.’
“It bloody well is! Leave him alone!” Chase had Azazel by the collar of his plain, charcoal shirt, and seated with his weight on the spectre’s waist. At his back he heard House suck in a pained breath. His hands fisted tighter. He pressed on Azazel’s throat, though a lack of air wasn’t going to hurt him in the least. “Leave him!”
‘Do you love him? Do you love these cosmic abominations and infantile creations? All their weakness, and ignorance?’
“I share your distaste. But I see a gift that we lack.”
‘They can’t save you. He can’t save you.’
“I’m not looking for a saviour. I’m looking for perspective, understanding.” His voice was calm on the surface. Underneath the fear for House made his pulse race.
‘What makes you think they have it?’
“Because we don’t!”
‘You love him don’t you?’
“No. I love you.”
House gasped. His eyes closed. The tension that contracted his muscles and pulled his frame ended. He flopped back onto the mattress, easing the searing in is lungs, and for the recently-threatened life of him not understanding what had just happened.
Chase didn’t turn around to check on him. He could hear the relief in House’s breaths; he could almost smell the tension leave the room. He closed his eyes.
Azazel struck.
It only took a blink and all of a sudden Chase was the one pinned to the floor, chest to chest with Azazel.
‘What surprises me…is that you’re not lying. So…why don’t you love him?’
“You don’t understand love at all.”
Azazel paused, reflecting for a moment. ‘I know enough to love you.’
The weight and warmth vanished. So did the man over him. Chase took a few deep breaths and raised his head enough to see House doing the same to look at him.
“Friend of yours?”
“More like…” He dropped back to the floor, knocking his head a little, “…more like brother. Are you okay? What did he do to you?”
House shook his head, eyes to the ceiling. He didn’t know how to describe the most complete sense of foreboding and pure menace he felt from that thing. It wasn’t the being itself that he’d reacted to, like a bad allergy. It was everything he represented. House shivered involuntarily.
“What are you?”
“I’m human.”
“Don’t give me that! What the fuck are you? What the hell is a Mastema?” House sat up and glared at him.
Chase felt himself wilt a little under the look. “You already know. Why does it have to be said again?”
“Maybe I just want to hear you admit it.”
Like a confession, Chase thought sourly. But what had he done wrong that he needed to confess. A pain tightened his chest and halted his breathing as more knowledge, more of what he’d locked away returned to him.
What didn’t he have to confess?
“Mastema…” House prompted cruelly. He was a man of little patience and his nerves were raw and still humming with the assault they’d just taken.
“…was tired, and weak, and angry. So…I ran.” Seated on the empty floor, his legs out before him and his head down in shame, he looked as small and pitiful as he felt. “I ran to the people who had caused it all because, you’re all immune to what you do to each other. I needed that reprieve. I just couldn’t do it anymore. Watching all the suffering and not being able to help. I wanted to reach out. I wanted to…guide them. But then I remembered…I did this to them. I brought the worst out and brought about their worst nightmares. Azrael welcomed them, Gabriel taught truth, and I hurt them.” Chase raised his eyebrows and gave a weak shrug.
“Then what happened to Robert Chase?” House demanded acidly. He wasn’t sure whether he believed or not but he was still sure of enough to be outraged at something hijacking the body of an innocent person.
Seeing the disgust, Chase scrambled over to the bed. “I am Robert Chase!”
“No, you’re Mastema.”
“Same thing!”
“Robert Chase was the son of Rowan Chase and whatever his mother’s name was. You took that body.”
“I saved that body! The baby wasn’t going to survive.”
“How would you know?”
This time Chase was the one who glared. He knew a lot of things suddenly that he didn’t understand how or why he knew. But he didn’t doubt any of it. And he couldn’t explain a fraction of it.
“I just know!”
“Then what about the…soul that should have been in that child. Where did you stuff him?”
“I didn’t do anything to him! He went to the same place other unborn souls go!”
The look he was being given told House not question the issue any further.
“I…saved that life. It was the best thing I’ve ever done. And then I forgot. I chose the life of a single human. I chose the experiences of his life, good and bad, over the experience of everyone.” Robert sighed. “I wanted to live a simple life for a while.”
“You could have picked better,” House said after a minute of emptiness. “You got a pretty shitty deal.”
“People have had much worse.”
“Yeah. And that’s sad but Robert Chase didn’t know that. And it doesn’t make his or anybody’s pain less valid.”
“I know. I’m so sorry.” Robert reached out to touch House but an inch before he made contact, House pulled away and sat up.
“I’ll find you some clothes.” Painfully, he scooted off the bed. Gratefully, Chase didn’t try to touch him again. House donned his jacket over his undershirt. “Stay here. Don’t let anyone in.” House gave the instructions without looking at the Chase and exited the apartment the same way. Chase sat there and watched him go, part of him hoping that House left him behind and didn’t come back.
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---H/C---
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An unguarded clothing line provided House with free garments for Chase. No underwear so he had to go commando but that was the least of their problems. Money was next. A trip to the First International Bank of Israel managed to give them the equivalent of a few hundred US dollars. Getting anymore from Chase’s Swiss account would take a few days but he’d been allowed a small advance after his Swiss banker vouched for him. House had not kept his rich-boy comment to himself when Chase reluctantly informed him of his Swiss account. Chase had explained the account was for the occasions when he knew he had to lie low, and the Swiss account allowed him access to the small stockpile of funds in many places.
The rest of the day was filled with mindless, dreary tasks, like getting new clothes for Chase, that didn’t look like they’d been stolen from some person’s laundry line. A black turtleneck, a pair of pants and a cheap pair of shoes was all he got. House bought a new shirt but was more concerned with his waning supply of Vicodin. He’d managed to eke out his supply thus far and could probably do the same for the next few days but he’d need a refill soon.
“Come on we need to make a phone call,” House stated.
“To whom?”
“Wilson. I need more pills.”
“Can this wait until tomorrow?” Chase couldn’t help the looks he threw over his shoulder. He was more than paranoid that at any moment, Voorhees and friends would jump out and catch them. He knew that going to such a large, well known bank was a risk, but starvation and exposure was a bigger one so they’d had no choice but to chance it. He was certain that in a few hours, if not sooner, an ally of the Tenth Order’s would be at the bank inquiring about some of the foreign visitors they had earlier.
“No, this can’t wait!” A small mall provided cover and a public phone. Making the long distance call to the US was a challenge in itself but finally the line rang and House breathed in relief when the familiar voice picked up. “Me again,” he greeted casually.
“God, House! Are you guys okay? Where are you?”
“I need a prescription.”
“That’s going to be difficult with you on the other side of the planet.”
“We’re not on the other side…” House trailed off as he realized that Chase wasn’t near him. “Shit!”
“What is it?” Wilson’s voice tightened in response to the panic he heard in his friend’s.
“Chase. I can’t…never mind. I found him.” House glared at the young man who was seated on the armrest of a rickety bench near the entrance they had come through. Chase met House’s eyes and gave him an annoyed look. House suppressed his smile of amusement. He couldn’t reconcile what Chase said he was and what he seemed to be, as the man continued to act like the Chase House had always known.
“You have to stop scaring me like that.”
“Gotta keep your heart in good shape. Look, there’s a clinic nearby. I’ll give you their number. You call them and tell them whatever you need to tell them to get me my pills.”
“House…” Wilson drawled uncertainly.
He didn’t need this. He had enough to deal with without adding Wilson’s constant guilt-tripping. “I need my pills!” House looked over at Chase. “I also need a leash for my fellow.” House quickly gave Wilson the information he needed and went to Chase who was currently talking to two men. They were both pretty young, around Chase’s age but the constant grins on their faces put an icy feeling in House’s stomach.
“Time to go!”
All three men were startled. “What are you doing?” Chase demanded as House took him by the wrist and forced him away.
“You can turn tricks on your own time.”
“I wasn’t turning a trick, you bloody bastard!”
“Then what were you discussing? The weather? The local sports team?”
“No, just the really important stuff, like where are you from and how long are you staying.” Chase wrenched his arm free but didn’t have the strength to keep his balance. He managed to stay upright thanks to the outer wall of the mall. “What the hell is wrong with you anyway?”
House stared at him. What the hell wasn’t wrong? “We need to eat. You haven’t eaten in a while. Might be carrying the quest for thinness a little too far.”
“Fuck you.”
“Did Mastema’s infinite wisdom come up with that witty retort?” House limped off.
Chase quickly caught up. “No. Azazel likes to take credit for those.” Chase walked on when House paused.
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---H/C---
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An entire week they spent sniping at and taking care of each other. At some times House was steps from force feeding Chase and at others Chase was physically keeping House from swallowing a whole bottle of his newly filled prescription. There had been a “mistake” at the pharmacy and House had been given he wrong ones, which he soon discovered when his leg pain and withdrawal symptoms began to show up. The pharmacy had been adamant that they had made no mistake but neither House nor Chase believed them. Finally, unable to take anymore, Chase had run to the pharmacy and forcefully made his way behind the counter to search their stock.
For nearly two hours he’d rifled through the shelves of pills and powders and creams looking for the Vicodin that was supposed to be there. The employees had been yelling at him all the while but as Chase had expected, they didn’t call the police.
Hatikva was one of Tel Aviv’s most notorious slums and it didn’t receive its reputation because of the outstanding moral fibres of the businesses and residents. Eventually Chase had found his target and with a challenging and hostile glare at the employees and the patrons of the pharmacy he left with an unhealthy supply of the drug House needed and a few bottles of water, just because.
“They were probably selling the good pills on the street for a higher profit and selling the bad stuff to the few patients they actually have,” Chase said more because he didn’t know what to say. House had just taken the pills and was lying listless and glassy-eyed on the bed, his agony filling the room. “I’ve heard of people watering down insulin and other drugs before. I don’t want to contemplate how many people might--”
“Shut up, please, would you?” House grumbled and immediately felt worse without the accented voice to annoy and keep his mind off the pain in his thigh.
The bed dipped with an added weight. House shifted his gaze away from the blurry ceiling to his most recent roommate. Strangely, Chase looked to be almost in as much pain as him.
“I’m sorry.” What was Chase apologizing for? Chase didn’t know; neither did House.
“You didn’t do this,” House stated simply because it was fact and not to ease the gloom in his companion’s eyes, or so he told himself.
Chase trailed his eyes over the pained form, thinking thoughts too deep and alien to be expressed clearly.
“Not you too,” House groaned. Chase’s eyes drew up to his face. “Why do people always think I need to be saved?”
“Maybe because you’re hurting yourself and seem content to do it until it finally destroys you.”
“You’ve given this some thought.”
“There’s only you, me and your pain in this room, so yeah, it has crossed my mind.”
“Fine. Keep your opinions to yourself. I don’t need to be saved, and certainly not by you.”
“What makes you think you don’t deserve to be saved?”
“Just…shut up. Please…”
It took forty minutes for the painkiller to finally work its magic. Chase stayed at House’s side (mostly in silence) until he saw the lines of strain ease from the older face. With the pain receding and House’s walls returning to their usual fortitude Chase knew it was time to retreat, give House his space.
House rose to support his upper body on his elbow and took a moment to stare at Chase as he stood by the window. He looked depressed. House didn’t know it but Chase’s thoughts had been turning to someone at whom he was trying to be angry at.
After a few minutes of his staring going by unnoticed, and seeing the moisture glaze the dulled eyes House had his conclusion. He didn’t have any words though.
“Hey, how you feeling?” Chase asked after a noticing with a quick glance that House was half-up.
“Better.” Judging from the colour of the sunlight illuminating Chase House judged that it must be late evening. The hue of the light made the golden hair a warmer, more bronzed shade and with the strands hanging over his forehead and brushed just away from his eyes, Chase looked younger than the years that he was.
“A few more days and we’re home-free,” House stated.
Chase simply nodded.
“Well don’t be so happy about it.”
Chase forced a smirk of amusement but it didn’t reach his eyes, because even after the immediate dangers passed he would never be the same.
“I am, of course, going to make your life hell once we get back to New Jersey,” House threatened. Chase nodded but didn’t seem concerned, or even to be listening. “I’ll also garnish your wages to make up for the pain and mental anguish you’ve caused me.”
“Yeah, sure…”
House sat up and shifted to rest on foot on the floor. “You don’t plan on coming back do you?” There was no response this time. “Chase!”
“What?” That startled him out of his reverie.
“You’re coming back to work after this is over,” House commanded.
Chase shrugged. “I don’t know.” He watched the people move about outside for a bit more. “I don’t have anything else, I guess.”
“You still have your life, your job, and you have more information than when this mess started.”
“I also don’t have Warren. If you’re trying to cheer me up, you’re doing a crappy job.”
“I don’t do cheer.”
“Explains why you’re out of practice.”
“What I do, do is information gathering.”
“Information you simply lord over people to manipulate them.”
“That’s because so many of them seem so content to ignore it and continue with their paltry bliss. You’re a prime example. You’ve finally been given information to explain everything and you’re just ignoring it, pretending like you’re the same person you were a week ago.”
“I am the same person.”
“Nobody’s the same person they were a week ago, but most of us don’t have a whole alternate life to pretend doesn’t exist.”
“Lucky for everybody else.”
“So why aren’t you embracing your newfound god-hood?”
Chase glared at House, for his wording and for his continuation of a topic that he did not want to discuss. “Because I don’t want it, but I can’t un-remember everything I know now.”
“How much do you remember?”
Chase shook his head. “Not much, but more comes back each moment, and I don’t want it.”
“Then you’re just going to have to suck it up.”
“Thanks, your pep talk really did the trick,” Chase sniped.
“I never said I wouldn’t be there to help.” House said it casually, eyes down on the pattern of unravelling stitches in the mattress. Chase didn’t look over, knowing better than to put House on the spot at a time like this. He didn’t think House was screwing with him, so he didn’t feel the need to search his expression for subterfuge.
“Thanks.”
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---H/C---
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He was walking in his dream again. He seemed to be doing a lot of that of late. When he was awake Chase mused that it was symbolised a journey but he wasn’t awake and so he walked.
Each step was difficult, as though he were walking through water but there was nothing that he could see weighing him down.
He felt Angelica join him, matching his pace but staying silent. Others came joining him and they kept walking. The worlds around them changed -changed seasons, changed regions, changed times. The screaming faces remained the same, until they became familiar. They became the faces of people he knew, people he cared for. Yet when they screamed, their eyes melting from their head, and the flesh falling from their bones he only looked to the massive population of beings like Angelica that walked with him and smiled.
More than six billion people were to perish in their own personal hells, having turned against each other and themselves. Even the righteous and holy drowned in the swamping tide of malevolence.
A frail hand grasped at his leg. Chase stopped walking and looked down at the woman. He felt nothing for her as she begged for mercy for her and the baby suckling weakly at her breast.
“No,” was his easy response.
The child in her arm bit down hard. The woman shrieked, ripping the child away from her. Eyes filled with tears and hate, she raised the infant above her head and brought it down to strike against the jagged ground.
His gasp filled the room and air filled his lungs. Panic had him trying to sit up but an arm around him kept him down. Intense words of reassurance from a deep voice broke through the haze left by his nightmare, his omen, and only after his quickly found resolution did he begin to relax and appreciate the hand under his shirt rest on his stomach and the thumb stroking across the skin.
“What is it?” House asked and felt a shiver slip through the body under his hand.
“Just…just another nightmare,” Chase whispered back, eyes staring straight ahead at the ceiling. Another nightmare that he would ensure would not come true.
Beside him, House tried to push aside his frustration. His tenuous grasp of the situation wasn’t enough to find a conclusion or a solution. All he could was provide a little comfort -as he had been more and more over these past days -and hope that they’d last the two more days they needed. He didn’t know that Chase was trying to make sure they survived the next few days.
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---H/C---
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Doctor Cameron had finally tracked him down a patient’s room. Or outside of it since the chaos within couldn’t handle visitors at the moment. Whatever Cameron was about to tell him died in her throat as she caught site of Angelica Brown, once again caught up in the throws of her delusions.
“You have to let me go! I have to get out of here!”
With much difficulty Dr. Henderson and the nurses put the woman in restraints.
“No! Don’t I’ll stop! I’ll be good!” Angelica bargained but the light in her eyes showed that she intended to do no such thing.
Henderson loaded a syringe with a mild sedative and administered it to the woman.
“You don’t understand. He doesn’t understannd…” she said sadly “He needs my help… Or you’re all going to parish.”
The tired nurses left the room with no regard for her words. Henderson had little more regard for Angelica than them. “I’ve had enough of this,” he stated, his frustration with the situation evident in the lines of fatigue around his eyes. “She needs the anti-psychotics.”
Wilson and Cameron let him walk away without a word.
“She was doing better with the antibiotics,” Cameron stated.
The oncologist nodded in agreement but didn’t speak.
Unsure about the older man’s silence Dr. Cameron tentatively continued with what reason she had sought him out in the first place. “Agent Jerome provided for us and update of the investigation for Chase and House. Apparently Chase has a Swiss account so they’re going to see if tries to access it from anywhere. They’ve also been in contact with some people in Israel but he couldn’t tell us any more than that.”
A nod was the only response.
“She may just be schizophrenic.” Allison didn’t know why Wilson was so open to the possibility that the patient had anything beyond what was already written in her file. Though at times even she was captivated by the clear eyes and uncanny insight the woman seemed to have once she was off her medications. As though the fractured mind and temporarily mended itself, Angelica would look at her, seeming to see into the core of her being. They had even conversed briefly a few times and the woman was truly insightful, so much so that sometimes it was as if she was psychic. She could practically hear House reminding her that just because the woman was crazy didn’t mean the she wasn’t perceptive.
“Probably.” Wilson’s response tripped Cameron out of her thoughts. Before she could regain her footing Wilson was walking away.
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---H/C---
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“Where the hell have you been?” House yelled as soon as Chase came in the only door to the miniscule apartment.
Chase didn’t seem fazed by the outburst. He thrust some documents and a little folder at House and held them against the man’s chest when he didn’t move to take them. “Here, take these, go home.”
“What--”
“It’s a ticket to New York. Take it and go home. You can’t stay here.”
House stared down at Chase, those calculating azure eyes trying not to miss any of the information clearly expressed on face before him. He reached up. Chase followed the motion of the hands expecting them to take the documents. Instead, after hooking his cane to the crook of his elbow, House grasped Chase around his wrists.
Surprised, Chase tried to move back but couldn’t, not with the vice around his wrists.
“I think you would have figured by now that I’m not an idiot. I know what you’re trying to do.”
“Then let me go and go home.” Chase tried to pull back again but House’s hands didn’t budge. Bum leg or not, House was still quite strong. “You’re not helping, I don’t want you here, and you don’t want to be here.”
“I’ve been taking pages from your book, doing things I don’t want to do.” Chase didn’t respond except for his eyes narrowing and his struggle to free himself renewing. “This is joke right? Tell me you didn’t spend what little money we had left on a plane ticket!”
“Go to the embassy tell them you lost your passport, they’ll help you and then you can get you out of here.”
“I’m not going anywhere!” House’s hands squeezed tighter and Chase clenched his jaw in both frustration and discomfort as the long fingers dug into his flesh.
“Just fucking go, House! I’m sick of sharing the bed with you, and I’m sick of sharing this room with you! I’m just sick of you! I don’t know how I ever liked you, but I’ve been cured of it. So do us both a favour and just fuck off!”
Chase held House’s eyes, knowing that if House saw any uncertainty he’d pounce on it. But just because it couldn’t be seen didn’t mean that House didn’t know it was there. He was ready to begin round two, many witty and unbeatable arguments already coming to mind but he stopped, or was stopped. Cold fear gripped his insides and stole his breath. A chill travelled down his spine and the room, formerly lit with early afternoon sun, was now filled with shadows. From the corner of his blurring vision the shadows seemed to shift and move to crowd around him. The stray thought in his mind that he had rejected early on, was now back with a vengeance that deafened him and all his other thoughts.
Take it.
Go home.
Leave him.
House closed his eyes trying to lock out the thoughts. It didn’t work. And when he opened his eyes, his hands no longer held Chase’s wrist. They had the flight voucher and itinerary and his feet where carrying him to the door. As he stepped out, House turned back, fighting with himself and the impossibly strong urges for one last look back.
The room was filled with living shadows, their patterns shifting and merging on the floor and on the walls. Chase was still standing there, head hung and back to the door. Without warning the door swung on its squeaking hinges and slammed closed. One last shadow seemed to hurtle at House and it forced him to practically run down the half flight of stairs to the building’s exit and out into the warm sun.
Later, standing outside the gated complex of the United States Embassy, House would be dreaming of soft white light. A guard behind the main gate would ask him if he needed help and when House met the soldier’s eyes to respond he’d recall familiar blue-green turn to soft, radiant white. The anger would mount, the thoughts of flight would turn to fight, and the implanted suggestions would evaporate.
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---H/C---
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He needed the money. That was all it came down to. It was probably the same for everybody who chose to do this.
The plane ticket had used all but a few dollars of they money he had left from the bank. The transfer from his Swiss account was hitting some snags and he could only get a little out every few days. His next withdrawal wouldn’t be available until Monday if he was lucky, and it was only Thursday. The landlady was breathing down his neck about the rent he owed and he knew she was just a breath away from kicking him out. But for now he still had a room, and it would provide him with what he needed to make it through the weekend: a place to do business.
It was the same two men he’d met at the small mall about a week ago. The same two men House had forcibly dragged him away from and then accused him of propositioning. He really hadn’t been that time, but when he’d gone out to try and buy some food earlier, only to find that he couldn’t afford anything, running into those two again seemed like some cruel poetic justice. And like the last time, they propositioned him. But unlike the last time, Chase accepted.
They climbed the stairs behind him, murmuring to each other in Hebrew and laughing too. At his door Chase fumbled for the key to the flat. Just as he retrieved it, the two men became impatient and Chase found himself pinned against the door. Rough lips pressed against his neck and a tight grip in his hair angled his head back for better access.
Another set of hands began their own exploration; one slipping under his shirt and the other down the front of his pants, the unwelcome but inescapable caresses making him nauseous.
Chase’s eyes fell on a half open door just down the corridor. It was the single washroom afforded to this floor of the complex, and Chase felt the urge to dash there and lock himself in.
Later, he promised himself.
The man with his face buried in Chase’s neck guided his hand and the key to the lock on the door, getting it opened and letting the three of them in. Chase reached for the awkwardly positioned light switch but the two men didn’t let him move far enough to get it where it was located near the hinge of the door.
As though it sensed his need for light, the bulb came on, shining its weak yellow light. But the light-bulb was as inanimate as it ever had been. The true culprit was standing next to the light switch, menace and infuriation written in every line of his body.
“House?” Chase sounded both happy and dismayed to see him.
The two strangers pulled back a little but didn’t let go of the body they had been promised a ride on.
“What are-”
A blink of fair eyes and a flash of metal had a small gun trained on the nearest of the two strangers. He froze, staring down the barrel of the firearm and his friend began looking for an opening in which to attack.
“Christ, House! Put the gun down!” Chase began towards House, thinking that House had misunderstood the situation.
House hadn’t misunderstood. He’d miscalculated.
The aim of the gun changed, leaving the Israeli man and pointing square at the Australian.
“…H…House?”
“You two, out!” The deep and forceful command and the nod of his head to the exit crossed the language barrier and the two men retreated. He should have known that the two friends would defend each other, but they wouldn’t risk injury for a stranger.
House, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you at the airport? Why do you have a gun on me? All very good questions, none of which Chase could manage to articulate with the stare of the gun and the more fearsome stare of his employer both on him.
Chase barely realized what happened before he found himself pressed against the wall, the light switch digging into his back and House’s left hand gripping the front of his shirt. With his right hand holding the gun, his left also held his cane, the hard length of which was bearing down on his chest. But those discomforts were minor compared to the sight of a gun so close to him that his eyes couldn’t even bring it into proper focus.
The cold metal brushed a trail across his cheek until the tip pressed into his temple.
“I don’t care if you’re trying to save the entire world…don’t ever pull one of those…manipulation tricks on me again.”
Mouth parted and panic-filled eyes locked onto the ones that had held his since the gun moved out of his sight, Chase nodded, though it appeared more like a shiver.
Just scare him, that’s all House had originally intended to do when he decided to return. The gun’s purpose was protection for both of them. It was a purpose fulfilled by getting rid of those two men, but now, with Chase against him, eyes seeing only him and his breathes coming in short, quick puffs, House didn’t want to let him go, not until the other feeling in him was resolved.
The sight and sounds of those men touching Chase, kissing his him, it had set his anger into rage. How dare those men touch Chase? How dare Chase allow them to? And House himself, how dare he feel jealous?
Before he could think through what he was doing, House found a way to solve the problem. He brought his lips to Chase and pushed his tongue between the already parted lips, staking his own claim and sealing his resolve.
Chase, for his part, didn’t do anything. The metal tip of the gun was still at his temple, the cold touch warming with each passing second that it remained there.
House ended the kiss and hobbled back a step. He yanked Chase forward and flung him towards the bed. Chase stumbled into it but would have kept his balance if House had not pushed him down on to it.
“House, stop it!” Chase yelled, feeling out of sorts and not sure how to return things to normal. The hard press of what Chase correctly assumed was the gun into his upper back ended his struggles.
“Is this what you wanted?”
The question was followed by the flutter of paper. Israeli banknotes fell around him, the images of face and places he didn’t know filling his vision. Twenty, fifty, one hundred New Israeli Sheqel bills fell, all together several times what the two strangers had agreed to pay him.
“You were going to sell yourself to them right? Well now I’m a paying customer too.”
With a rough hand House pulled Chase’s shirt off and his pants down to his knees. Chase struggled against him but the press of the cool metal took most of the fight away from him.
House laid himself over the smaller man, wishing he could feel the naked skin on him. He wasn’t willing to give up the power though. With the gun now in his left hand still pressed against the side of Chase’s face, he busied his right hand between the blond’s legs. House’s remarkable skill with masturbation made the flaccid organ completely stiff quite quickly.
He was shaking, panting, a wreck with the sensation and House took it all in. House watched the flushed face and the tightly shut eyes. He felt and heard every change in his touch illicit a different response. He played the young man’s body like he played with his mind, twisted him to do as he desired, manipulated and took retribution. And then one sound brought it all to an end.
It was a sob, a gasp, a breath all in one. It broke through the possessive lust and anger. There was pain in that sound, pain he realized he didn’t mean to cause until he actually discovered it.
House’s hand stopped. The firearm dropped to the floor with a heavy clatter.
The sounds outside stopped, as though everyone was waiting.
“Chase…Robert…”
The blue-green eyes opened and met his. There was so much swirling in there that House doubted Chase could decipher it all. House faced a dilemma, one not entirely of his own making but completely in his control. If he continued with his power play he could probably bring Chase to the most devastating orgasm of his life. But he couldn’t. Now matter how good his body would feel, Chase would never trust him again. House hoped that he hadn’t gone too far already.
He brushed his thumb against the cheek where the metal of the gun had been pressing before. The warm erased the chill.
House began again his strokes on Chase’s member, but a flash of motion had Chase’s trembling hand over his, halting him.
“I…I didn’t…want them…” Chase confessed shakily, though House knew that already. “I needed…I needed the money.”
“I have that. So now…what do you need?”
From the look in Chase’s eyes House knew the young man didn’t know what the answer was, probably wasn’t sure what House meant by the question. House made a suggestion. He stroked up the length of the hot flesh in his hand. The resistance of Chase’s hand made the motion slow but though he could have stopped it, he didn’t.
House moved his lips to the shell of a delicate ear and breathed out, “What do you want Robert?”
A series of short strokes over the tip pulled a moan out.
House thrust his groin against Chase’s hip, his surprisingly aching cock demanding attention. While waiting for Chase to return, he’d taken enough Vicodin to numb him from head to toe for a day, so House was surprised he was hard at all. But he was so he went with it. His lips descended on Chase’s neck replacing the scent left by the two Israeli men. His right hand continued to work Chase’s arousal, despite the half-hearted restraint the younger man’s hand was making.
The resistance became full-fledged when House tried to kiss him. Chase’s head twisted to the side.
“Stop.” Chase didn’t make it a request and went further by slipping out from under the other man. He put space between them, pulled his pants and underwear up from around his knees, but didn’t reach for the rest of his clothing where they lay on the floor.
House shifted to his side and looked expectantly at Chase.
“What are we doing?”
“You’re sitting nearly naked on a crappy bed. I’m lying clothed on-”
“House…”
House looked away and sighed. “I thought what we were doing was pretty obvious.”
“Then why?”
“Because I want to.” House turned his gaze to Chase’s erection. “And because you want to.”
Chase’s gaze was steady and contemplative. His breathing was deep but the pace was normal, the storm of his arousal having dimmed under the onslaught of thought.
“So…it’s not just…revenge,” he ventured.
“You must think I’m a real fucking bastard that I’d use sex to hurt you.”
“Better people have done worse,” Chase countered, supremely aware that House hadn’t given him an answer.
“I’ll bet they have.” Neither questioned how Chase knew what other people did. Chase knew he knew, and House knew that people sucked. “But who says they’re better?”
“Popular opinion?”
House brought his right leg across his left, turning onto his back so that he could talk (since it appeared he must) without needing a chiropractor later. Some small objects in his pant pocket shifted and clinked together. The sound was soft, muffled by the fabric around it but Chase’s ears picked it up and tuned out whatever House had begun to say.
Eyes narrowed on the pocket Chase climbed over House, pushed him down to the bed with one hand and reached into the pocket with the other.
What he found confounded him at first. Bullets, four of them, and at least one more still in the pants.
“The gun...it wasn’t loaded?”
House smiled innocently for a moment before speaking sincerely. “They weren’t going to make me shoot them. I wasn’t going to shoot you.” He slipped a hand to the back of Chase’s neck and pulled his angry face closer. “And I wasn’t going to rape you.”
Chase’s jaw remained clenched and his eyes remained angry for several seconds. “I won’t manipulate you like that again. And you, don’t ever pull a gun on me ever again, loaded or not.”
“Deal. So, negotiations concluded. Everything settled to princess’s satisfaction. Can we fuck now?”
“My God, you’re romantic.”
End Chapter 10
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Cast and Characters