Characters: Chase, Foreman, House, Kutner, Cameron
Pairings: Cameron/Chase, Thirteen/Foreman, Chase/House (if you squint... I do)
Word Count: 850
Summary: Chase just can't go on anymore. Part of my Weekly Fix series, which I started out of frustration about the lack of Chase in Season5. Each chapter shows missing scenes from each episode. I'm planning to get to the current season very quickly. :)
Warning: Canon character death
Hypocricy (5X15 Unfaithful)
The Space Between (5X16 The Softer Side)
Answered Prayers (5X17 Social Contract)
Chasing Reasons (5X18 Here Kitty)
A Way Out?
“What’s your excuse?”
Chase slightly jumps at Foreman’s voice and barely manages a grimace that couldn’t quite pass for a smile.
“Bowling with you,” he mumbles reluctantly and curses under his breath seeing relief wash over Foreman’s face as he reaches for his phone.
“Remy? Hey, I ran into Chase. We’re going bowling. I know, sorry. Yeah, he says hi too. Don’t wait up. Bye.”
He sits down next to Chase with a heavy sigh, quite obviously waiting for the obligatory empty concern. It never comes. And they fall into awkward silence until the grinning barman pushes Chase’s drink over the counter.
“Your gin and tonic, Herr Doctor,” he says with intrusive familiarity he seems to think he has earned over the past weeks.
“Sorry, I…” Don’t panic. “That’s… not what I ordered. I don’t drink.”
The surprise on
“It’s ok, I’ll take that,” Foreman reaches for the drink with a shrug and it’s all Chase can do not to gulp longingly seeing the other man’s throat move as the liquid crawls into his body. He forces a smile on his face as
“That was a really dumb lie,” Foreman says eventually.
“Cameron could easily have phoned us to check if you told the truth.”
“Oh,” Chase shrugs, trying to hide his relief. “Not really. She’s not the suspicious kind.”
“The perfect woman, eh?”
Chase shrugs and doesn’t answer.
“So why are you here?”
Chase shrugs again.
“Just needed to get out.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“You?” Chase doesn’t really want to ask. He doesn’t care, he knows without asking anyway. The whole bloody hospital knows. Thirteen too, she just ignores it because she wants Foreman to speak to her instead of sulking like a petulant five year-old.
Chase is barely listening, nodding in agreement once in a while, watching as his well-deserved gin and tonic disappears in Foreman’s throat. Every gulp causes him almost physical pain. He’ll have to get another before going back to Cameron’s.
The words wash over him like an icy cold shower and he can’t move. The voice he knows, the words aren’t alien either but the combination of the two probably means the world is going to end in a terrible apocalypse. If he still had enough faith he might even call it Judgement Day just to annoy the hell out of House.
It was a very nice idea.
House. Praising someone. House.
He just stands there, frozen in shock and instinctively rubs his jaw as House pushes past him without a look wasted in his direction, too high on another solved puzzle. Chase stumbles into the locker room, eyes wide, vicious anger clawing at his guts seeing the small smile on Kutner’s face like a divine kiss. It makes him want to punch something. Instead he bursts out laughing. His laugh is long and loud, almost maniacal until the shock on Kutner’s face turns into worry.
“You ok?” he asks, but Chase just shakes his head and opens his own locker to get dressed.
That night he doesn’t go back to Cameron’s.
He wakes to the shrill sound of his cell phone – an annoying default tune he didn’t care enough to change in over two years. He reluctantly opens his eyes, not quite sure what to expect to see, and he can’t help but chuckle silently as he finds himself surrounded by stained glass windows and a miserable crucified son of God. He wants to stop laughing as headache cuts through his brain in flashes of hard lips and soft curves, not sure how much of it only happened in his dreams, but he can’t and it takes him a while to notice that his humourless laughter has long turned into an unstoppable flow of tears.
The ringing stops and starts again. And again. And again. Until finally whoever is on the other line – probably Cameron – finally gives up. Chase slips into conversation-less silence, ignoring old ladies’ suspicious looks at his drying tears. Maybe he should care. Maybe he should go back to Cameron’s flat. Maybe he should have a shower and go to work. Maybe he should just pull himself together for fuck’s sake.
Around noon his phone starts ringing again and this time he picks up, more out of reflex than anything, voice grey and toneless.
Yesterday he still would have flinched at her use of his name.
“Are you ok?”
He wants to say I’m fine, like always, but the words get stuck in his throat. There’s a sob on the end of the line, she’s been crying. He should ask what’s wrong but doesn’t.
He can’t do this anymore. He just wants out.
“Robert… it’s… Kutner…”