Chasing Reasons ~ Weekly Fix
He shouldn’t have expected anything else, really, but the sudden change still knocks Chase off his feet. No sane person would go as far as to call what he had with House these past weeks even remotely close to friendship, not even he is desperate enough to delude himself into thinking it was, but the lack of House’s regular visits, the veiled, barely-there hints for much needed advice, and the harsh cruelty of well-aimed words still leaves Chase gasping for air.
“You alright, Dr Chase?”
He has been sitting in the doctor’s lounge, staring into thin air for too long, fingers wrapped around his hot coffee, and apparently people are beginning to notice… person, actually… one girl, a nurse, who’s name he probably should remember but can’t for the life of him.
“I’m fine,” he gives her his most winning fake smile, of those he’s somewhat of a specialist, and tries to stifle the involuntary question why a random nurse - dark curly hair, cheeky smile, sparkling eyes, exactly the kind he would have gone for some years ago - would care more than his girlfriend, soon to be wife… Though, if he’s honest with himself, it’s a relief Cameron never asks questions and expects him to keep his own questions to himself, like this he doesn’t have to pretend to be interested in her past, her first marriage, her husband’s death.
Days are long and tedious, nights are restless, wrapped in the cooling sweat of sex. He doesn’t understand why he’s so terrified. They’re good together. She’s the perfect girlfriend in every respect. Pretty, smart, dedicated to her work, ergo not overly dedicated to him, a pretty decent cook even, good enough not to poison him and force him to lie about that too every evening but prone to occasional hilarious fuck ups that give them something to laugh about on their way to the nearest restaurant. The sex is moderately satisfying and regular, with cuddles few and far between, just enough to convince him he’s with someone but not enough to make him feel crowded. It’s perfect, it’s comfortable, it’s making him sick.
And he’s too scared to admit what it is he really wants. So he just clings to the red mug he got from House like a lifeline, a last reminder of some small comfort in his wreck of a life and when Cameron accidentally breaks it one morning Chase cries in one of the never used storage rooms for over an hour.
It’s two weeks and three days after the surprising renewal of a seemingly dead friendship and House-less boredom that Chase is finally summoned to a patient. It would seem he’s the only surgeon in the hospital because whenever House needs something done he’s the first to know… maybe no one else is truly willing to deal with House’s antics, maybe House knows the 4-year dog training is still deeply embedded in his bones, but it’s definitely no compliment of his skills, Chase is sure of that - even he learns from his own mistakes sometimes.
She’s just like any other patient… except she’s not, she’s House’s patient and Chase feels the exhilarating fear he was so used to once rush over him again. Her heart stops. They bring her back. House is interested. And then he’s not because a dead guy and a death-cat are much more interesting than a sick woman. Chase’s objections are half-hearted, he knows House won’t listen, doesn’t want him to, that would mean change and they’re both really crap with change.
He shouldn’t be the one telling her; she’s not his patient, not his responsibility. Then again, maybe she is. Maybe he should convince her to choose the treatment or console her about a past he didn’t care to ask about. In the end he gives in because, really, he’s too tired to fight God in the evening before his habitual gin and tonic. But then of course his actions, once again, don’t matter in the least because House comes up with a last minute brilliant idea thanks to the magic cat and it’s all fine again.
Everybody can live
Happily
Ever
After
Or something…
So why does it feel like hell when he pulls the covers up to his neck, praying - again? - that Cameron doesn’t notice the alcohol on his breath. The dark room hasn’t felt so silent since seminary school and he can’t suffocate the soon-to-be-healthy nameless woman’s last sentences swirling in his head:
If there’s no greater purpose in the world, then it’s not a world I wanna live in.
no greater purpose
a world I
then
there’s no
it’s not a
purpose in
I wanna
Live
No