Chapter One

House looked him up and down. `Take off your shirt, Chase.'

- - - - - -

Three months earlier

Chase had been crying all day. Oh - not out loud, not even actual tears as far as House could tell. But his eyes were bright, and there was an agony in them that he couldn't hide behind the brittle look of contempt.

The contempt, real or not, was all directed at House and his none-too-subtle attempts to figure out what was wrong with Chase. House always felt that, perhaps by some kind of osmosis, knowledge should be in a continual flow in his direction. And Chase was not normally difficult to break.

In the event, it only took until late afternoon. It was their five pm whiteboard - of the "the patient was stable but now he's getting worse again" variety. House was bored, and they were getting nowhere with the patient, so he went back to prodding Chase, a little harder this time.

Chase looked down, his shoulders shaking a little. He cried three pained sobs, and then rubbed at his eyes once with his fist. When he looked back at House, with Cameron and Foreman watching in shock, the mask was back.

He met House's eyes, and this time the contempt was genuine. `I'm taking a week's leave to organise my father's funeral.'

- - - - - - - -

`Are you out of your mind?'

- - - - - - - -

Two months and three weeks earlier

Chase, true to his word, had taken exactly one week to organise the funeral. He had returned to the states, told Cuddy that he didn't want any compassionate leave, and started back at work.

House watched him.

He watched as Chase shrugged off the compassion that Cameron offered, and even the grudging concern offered by Foreman. Watched as Chase went back to his job, quieter than before, but no more emotional. No fits of tears, sudden lapses of attention, not even any inappropriate anger. It was all very disappointing.

And all the time House watched as Chase failed, completely and utterly, to break down.

- - - - - - - -

`Take it off, Chase, or I'll do it for you.'

The slightest flicker of fear.

- - - - - - - -

Two months earlier

It wasn't much. Chase reached for a patient's file across the table, and his lab-coat rode up his arm. The bruise around his wrist was a faded yellow/green, and there was a roughness to it that suggested a burn.

House looked at him. `New girlfriend? Which one of you should I be sending the leather stethoscope to?'

Chase didn't blush, which gave House a moment's pause. Then Chase hurriedly pushed the sleeve back down, and started reading from the file. House put the bruise to the back of his mind as he made the connection between Chase's pointed reading of the childhood allergies, and the blood his patient was currently spitting everywhere.

- - - - - - - - -

`That's sexual harassment.'

`No, sexual harassment is when I leer at your ass and call you pretty.'

- - - - - - - - -

One month earlier

`Taking personal calls during office hours?' House tutted.

`I'm on my lunch,' Chase shot back as he left the room.

House shamelessly eavesdropped on the conversation being held just outside the door. If Chase didn't have the sense to move further away, then why should House reward his idiocy by not listening? The boy needed to learn these things.

`I'm sorry... I know I said I'd be home early, but House... he's my boss, Tom! And he's not... I'm sorry, I'm sorry... Look, I'll be home as soon as I can... there's pasta in the freezer... or you could order takeout... There's money sitting beside the... So we're okay now, yeah? I'll see you tonight...' Chase hung up the phone, his breath coming shakily as he came back into the room.

House tried to look innocent. `Problems?'

`No problems,' Chase assured him. `Since when do you care anyway?'

`Good point.'

- - - - - - - - -

`You do all that!'

`I never said that I don't sexually harass you,' House answered mockingly. `I just said that this wasn't it. Right now I don't care how cute your ass is. Shirt off.'

- - - - - - - - - -

One hour earlier

They were staying late again. When House had refused to let them leave, Cameron and Foreman had protested loudly, and then sighed in resignation. Chase had taken on a strange expression, but said nothing. House gave them five minutes to get coffee, and Chase left the room, dialling the phone even as he walked out the door.

It was eleven now, and one of the nurses peered in through the door. `Dr Chase? There's a man asking for you in reception. A Tom Woods? He says he's your...' she hesitated for the briefest of moments, `...partner.' There was a question in how she said it, but Chase didn't notice.

He jumped up, muttered `I'll be back in a minute,' and flew out of the room.

House looked at the space where his intensevist had been with disbelief. `Where have his manners gone?'

`Maybe it's just urgent?' Cameron offered, placating as always.

`More urgent than Mr...'

`Goodman?' Foreman filled in.

`That's the one. Unless someone is dying faster than poor Mr Goodman, Chase had better have a damn good reason for trying to leave early. I better investigate.'

`It isn't leaving early when it's practically midnight,' Foreman called, but House was already halfway out the door.

At reception Chase was standing in front of a virtual man-mountain. Tom, assuming this was him, must have been six foot seven, and had either been a linebacker or the Incredible Hulk as a teenager. Chase, who never looked particularly threatening, was dwarfed by him.

The general impression wasn't helped much by the way Chase slumped his shoulders, and how Tom leant over him - too close for casual and too looming for affection. Chase reached up and placed his hand on the taller man's arm.

House was just close enough to hear them now.

`I said that I was sorry.'

`You don't look sorry.'

`I am. But our patient went critical and House...'

`It's always fucking House with you, Rob. That how you get them to pay you those big cheques? Giving the old man a little extra on the side?'

`Tom!' Chase hissed. `You're drunk, and you don't mean... he's my boss! I need to go back to work now, okay? I promise I'll be home early tomorrow.'

Chase turned to leave, and Tom grabbed his shoulder. House watched as the restraint was tightened, fingers digging into the slim shoulders hard enough to bruise. `Don't you dare walk away like that.'

`Tom, please.' Chase tried to pull away from the strong grip. `I need to work here. Please don't make a...'

`Scene?' Both men looked down in surprise at the cane which had been inserted between them.

`Dr House,' Chase said, startled.

House ignored Chase for the moment. He looked at Tom. `I believe you have my intensivist. I need him back now.'

`He isn't your anything, doc.'

`I think you'll find that during work hours, he is. Look, I promise I'll give him back in perfect working order. Go home and make your own fun for a while.'

Tom face went dark with anger, and with no further argument or provocation, he swung an arm at House. It wasn't particularly hard or well-aimed, more a drunken swing, but it was enough to knock him over.

Chase straightened up and placed himself firmly in between the two of them. `Get away from him!'

`Defending your boyfriend?'

`I'm defending my boyfriend from being tossed out by security or the police,' Chase corrected. `Look, just go home, okay? You've got the key. I'll be back soon.' He walked closer to Tom, leaning in to whisper with a coy smile, `I promise I'll make it worth your while.'

House shook his head a little to verify that he had just heard something so blatantly porn-star-esque come out of Chase's mouth.

Tom smirked. `Okay then.' He turned Chase's head with aggressive hands, and pulled him in for a kiss. The fingers in his Chase's hair were pulling hard enough that he winced as they broke off, before forcing a smile.

When Tom left, Chase offered a hand to his boss. `Sorry. He was upset that I couldn't get home.'

`Ya think?'

`Sorry,' he repeated. Another forced smile.

- - - - - - - - - - -

`You can't order me to strip for you,' Chase protested.

`Are you sure about that? I'm your boss after all.'

`There's a limit to what you can...'

`Just like there's a limit to what your boyfriend can do?'

`House...'

- - - - - - - - - -- - -

Thirty minutes earlier

`He hit you? Didn't the nurses call anyone?' Wilson asked curiously.

`Apparently,' House drawled sarcastically, `this is not the first time I have so enraged a patient or patient's relative so as to warrant being punched.

Wilson nodded and conceded the point. `Still... surely it was pretty obvious he wasn't with a patient?'

`You're missing the point here, Jimmy.'

`Which is...?'

`Chase.'

`I'm sorry, it didn't occur to me that the point wasn't about you.'

`I'll have you know I am the very model of the concerned boss.'

`Sure. So you think it was more than just an argument?'

`I think if it had been Cameron there with a large drunk man clawing at her shoulder, security would have tossed the guy out. And it wasn't just... He just stood there letting it happen. Until the guy hit me, whereupon Chase suddenly develops a backbone. It was like watching someone be menaced by a puppy. Or a baby rabbit.'

`Are you done with the small animal analogies yet?'

`Hmm...yes. So...?'

`You want advice now?'

`I felt that was implied.'

`Are you going to listen?'

`I make no promises.'

`I think Chase has a problem. And unless you intend to just watch it happen, something I'm not ruling out, you're going to have to talk to him.'

- - - - - - - - - -

`Take off your shirt, Chase.'

Chapter Two

Whatever he had been expecting, this was worse.

The rope burns he had seen before, but not so bloody, nor so vivid against the pale skin. He had been right about the fingers gripping hard enough to bruise. Chase's arms and shoulders had livid purple finger-marks up them, running up to bloody scratches on the backs of his shoulders.

House walked around Chase slowly. The intensivist had closed his eyes, perched nervously on the exam-room table with his shirt pooled around him.

Another red-purple mark on his stomach, with green-yellow cousins around it indicating that this was not an isolated incident.

A line of a healing wound, stitches neat and tight, even when performed on his own chest. Not a knife-wound, probably a broken glass.

`Pants,' he instructed quietly.

Chase didn't even protest this time. Just kept his eyes shut as he kicked off the shoes and unzipped his trousers.

House swallowed a noise when he saw the state of Chase's legs and hips. More rope-burns. More finger-marks - dark bruises on his hips painting a clearer picture even than saying the words. Assault. Rape.

He pushed at Chase's legs to force him to spread them. The look on Chase's face was miserable, more openly unhappy than he had been with his eyes open.

House catalogued the puckered burn on Chase's thigh in the midst of the other bruising. Could have been a drunken "forgot I still had the cigarette in my mouth" - it did look to be the only one. He didn't feel confident enough to bet on it. There really was no reason why that one red circle shocked him more than any of the other marks, but it did. Perhaps it was the knowledge that for that, Chase would have had to be lying still on the bed, letting him do it. Any of the others, he could have been fighting back, but for that one...

`Get dressed,' he said finally. When Chase was buttoning his shirt, House spoke again, `Did it work?'

`What?' Eyes open now. Painted-on defiance.

`Whatever you thought you would get out of this. Did you get it?'

`It's not what you think.'

`So your "boyfriend" isn't beating you into a bloody pulp?'

`No.'

`The problem with that statement is those darned marks all over you!'

`It's none of your business.'

`He hit me!' House replied, a little petulantly.

`I apologised for that. It won't happen again.'

`I would feel a little more reassured if I thought that the reason it wouldn't happen again was that you were going to stop seeing him.'

`You're the one who was talking about leather stethoscopes. You can't say you're honestly surprised?' Chase sneered, but it was hard to tell who the disgust was aimed at.

`Chase, not that I'm one to interfere in your personal life,' A slight snort from Chase, good to know that he was still in there somewhere, `but you do understand that there is a difference between what we were talking about, and what he's doing? A safe-word for one thing! Or is he just deaf?'

`You don't care anyway, remember?' Chase reminded him of his words of a month ago. Before House could reply, Chase had straightened his lab coat and walked out.

Chase walked over to the desk. `Yeah?'

When Cameron and Foreman had walked far enough away, House raised his folder to Chase's head, causing him to jerk back. `Hold still,' House said impatiently. He used the corner of the folder to lift Chase's hair back. `Is he trying to stop you from going to work?'

`What?'

`Is he trying to stop you from going to work?' House repeated.

`I don't know what you mean.'

`If he's hitting you hard enough to damage your long-term memory then it really has gone farther than fun and games.'

`I...'

`So help me God, if the next words out of your mouth are "I fell", I will fire you.'

`I tripped,' Chase answered.

`Chase, I have in my desk an astonishing variety of pamphlets on domestic abuse, so many, in fact, that the nice lady on the desk gave me an extremely pitying look as I left. This is entirely for your benefit, I might add, so you could try to be a little helpful.'

`Because you've suddenly decided to take an interest? General Hospital in reruns this time of year? Or is it The OC in hiatus?'

`What I don't understand is how none of your hissy-fits are being directed at him. I'm actually the good-guy in this scenario - the one not trying to beat you into a bloody pulp - and I'm the one you're squeaking indignantly at?'

Chase sighed. `If I take one of your leaflets are you going to stop?'

`Probably not. If, on the other hand, you stop coming into the office looking half-dead, even on the days you're not covered in bruises, then maybe. I ask again, did he want to stop you from coming in to work? That's why they hit you in the face,' he elaborated, waving a leaflet, `to keep you at home.'

`I tripped.'

`Yes, because continually repeating the lie, that's what makes it true!'

Chase leant towards House. `Am I doing a bad job?'

`That all depends on...'

`Worse than you normally think I'm doing,' Chase amended.

`You're twitchier than normal.'

`And this is impacting on my diagnostic ability?'

`It's distracting me.'

`No, it's not. When my private life starts impacting on how I do my job, then you can go to Cuddy. Until then, butt out.'

As Chase left the office, House called after him, `When the glass hits a little closer to one of the major arteries, and you bleed to death in your apartment, is that impact enough?'

Chase didn't reply.

House slammed the door to the office open. Cameron and Foreman looked round, but neither appeared particularly startled. `Where's Chase?'

`He's not with you?' Foreman asked in surprise.

House made a show of checking his pockets. `Well, no intensivist here. He hasn't phoned either of you, told you to fob me off for a few hours while he sleeps off a hangover?'

`No,' Cameron answered. She tried to placate him, `Maybe he's just late? The traffic was pretty bad this morning.'

`Chase isn't late,' House answered, walking back out the door. `If anyone comes looking for me, tell them I'm in the clinic.'

`Won't that be more suspicious?' Foreman asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

`Good point. Tell them I'm with Wilson. That has the benefit of being the truth, so Cameron won't have to blush.'

Not that it mattered much, as Cameron responded to his comment with an indignant blush anyway.

`Dr House,' Wilson answered formally, with a slight smile to the person sitting opposite him, `I have a patient - can this wait?'

`No,' he answered shortly. `We need to go now.'

Wilson made his excuses and rescheduled the meeting while House glared impatiently. Finally free, they walked as quickly as House could manage to the elevator.

`So what's wrong?'

`Chase isn't here.'

`You're dragging me out of the hospital because one of your staff is playing hooky?'

`I paged him. I phoned the cell and his apartment. This is Chase - he doesn't skip work and he doesn't leave his pager off.'

Wilson looked at House in concern. `You think something's happened to him?'

`If it hasn't, he's in so much trouble.'

`Why do you have his key?'

`I didn't,' House answered shortly. `The door wasn't locked. Chase!'

`Robert?' Wilson tried.

House looked at him quizzically, `When do you think was the last time someone called him by his first name?'

`Fine.' Wilson glared. `Chase?'

`Chase, if you're not dead or dying, you're fired.'

`House.' Wilson gestured into the bedroom.

`If you're asleep, you're fired twice!'

`House.' The bedroom was a mess. House stepped carefully over the broken glass and around the duvet piled up on the floor.

No sign of Chase though. But there was a walk-in closet. And the way the chair was placed against the door, under the handle...

`Oh God.'

Chapter Three

`Chase!' House shouted. Later, playing it back, he would hear the panic in his voice, although he wasn't certain what he feared. He pulled the chair aside and tugged at the handle, but the door didn't shift.

`Who puts a lock on their closet?' Wilson asked, looking around for a key.

`Here,' House said grimly, waving the key that had been abandoned on the bedside table. He forced the key into the lock and turned it. The door opened, finally.

It was a big closet. An inane thing to note, but so the brain works in these situations. A walk-in, with a mirror. Chase was sitting on the floor, propped up against the back-wall, eyes closed. There was a moment where he was just one more thing to note, and then the doctor impulse kicked in.

For the second time in a month Greg House found himself making a list of Chase's injuries. No worse than last time really. Except that Chase should be getting up right now and asking why his home was being invaded.

Leg protesting vociferously, House made it to Chase's side and lowered himself to the ground. `Chase.'

It was a command, not a request, and Chase opened blue eyes to focus on his boss. `House.' He didn't sound surprised, or scared - didn't sound anything.

`Good. Can you tell me your name?'

`Robert Chase.'

`And where are you?'

`New Jersey.'

`More specific,' House demanded, with hands gentle in Chase's hair to feel for more wounds.

`My apartment.'

`Want to tell me what the hell happened?'

`What...' a shuddering breath, `...what do you mean?'

House forced the question into softness, if for no other reason than if he didn't do this right Wilson was going to take over. `You normally hang out in closets? What did Tom do?'

`Nothing,' he whispered back, breath coming in sharp gasps.

`Try that one again. Make me believe it this time.'

`I was late coming home.'

House could barely make out the words now. `And it was on time too many?'

Chase nodded, still gasping.

`Breathe, Chase.'

But the young man was in full-blown panic.

`Chase!' House instructed. `You need to take deep breaths.'

`Can't!' he shot back sharply.

House gave a flickering smile. `Good boy. Yell at me, that'll calm you right down. Come on, think of something peaceful. Tell you what - you missed our morning chat, I'll fill you in. Twenty seven year old male. Fatigue and joint swelling.'

`Lupus.'

`No rash. No pleuritis or pericarditis. No fever.'

`Rheumatoid arthritis.'

`Wilson suggested it, but no nodules.'

`It can present without nodules.'

`True, but it doesn't often present without a high RF level.'

`You didn't tell me that,' Chase protested weakly. He paused. `Strep throat.'

`Little severe for strep throat,' House answered, but with a satisfied look. He waited a moment before confirming, `Patient was recovering from strep throat.'

`Glomerulonephritis,' Chase concluded.

`That was my idea. We're doing urine tests now, but it is my idea, so it's probably right.'

Chase nodded dully, but his breathing was back to normal. When he trusted his voice again, he offered, `I think he just wanted to scare me. He was coming back.'

`That's sweet of him, but you're not going to be here.' House was met with a confused stare. `Oh, we're through with this whole "this is none of your business" crap. You don't make it into work, it's my business. That was our agreement. Or, to be more accurate, that was what you yelled as you stormed out of the office. And you need to go to the hospital anyway.'

He shook his head firmly. `No.'

`You want to wait for him to come home?' House asked incredulously.

Another head-shake, weaker this time. `We can leave if you want. Just... not the hospital, okay?'

`You're bleeding.'

`Not a lot. There's a first aid kit. I'll...' he tried to get up.

House glared at him. `Just how stupid are you? James, run and fetch the first aid kit, will you. We get to play doctor. It's not going to be as much fun as it sounds.'

`It's in the bathroom cabinet,' Chase murmured.

House pushed back Chase's bangs again. Mostly to himself he muttered, `What am I going to do with you?'

Chase shrugged. He still looked out of it. At least, he wasn't functioning enough to differentiate between a rhetorical question and a serious one.

`When did he leave?' House asked, realizing that Chase hadn't mentioned it.

`What time did I leave the hospital yesterday?'

`Nine,' he answered, hoping that the question wasn't asked for the reason he was imagining.

`Then since ten, something like that.'

`You didn't...'

`What, call someone? No phone in the closet, unsurprisingly.'

`You could have shouted. The walls can't be that thick.'

`I didn't really think he'd be gone so long. Normally...' he realized that was a mistake, and trailed off.

`Normally.' House said, shortly.

`Normally when we fight he comes back in an hour or so.'

`That wasn't what you were going to say. You were going to say that normally when he locks you up, and I imagine there's probably some fun time with ropes as well, he doesn't leave you there overnight. Boy, you must have really ticked him off this time!'

`Yeah.'

Wilson came in with the first aid kit. It was well-stocked. A doctor's kit, not one of the pricy ones they tried to fob off on gullible consumers who thought that the bigger and shinier the box, the safer their family would be. Though there were fewer plastic stitches and dressings than he would have thought. No great surprise there.

House batted James's hands away and closed and dressed the cut himself. `Anywhere else?'

`No. Just bruises.'

He ignored Chase, and pushed the t-shirt up to look at his chest. It was "just bruises", although bruise was a fairly mild word for some of the marks. `Okay. Phone, now.'

`What?'

`Phone. Tell him,' he explained slowly and carefully, `not to come back.'

`I...'

`Now, Chase. He interfered with your job - we're on my rules now.'

Chase gave him a long look, and got up. He walked out of the room.

House accepted Wilson's hand to pull himself up, and the two of them walked slowly after Chase. When they reached the living room, Chase was on the phone.

`I know that you were going to come back... Yeah, I do... but this isn't, it isn't good for either of us... I missed work today!... No, this has nothing to do with him... I...'

House came up behind Chase, and calmly took the phone. `This is Greg House. Don't come back to his apartment, he's having the locks changed. If you come near him again, he'll take out a restraining order against you. And if I see you in the hospital, I will call the police myself and tell them what you did. As far as I'm aware assault, rape, and imprisonment are all still pretty serious crimes in New Jersey.'

He heard the bitter laughter on the other end of the line. Oh good, he was drunk. That probably explained why he hadn't come back, actually. Tom spat the words, `Is that what he told you? That I hurt him? He was begging for it.'

House looked at Chase. His eyes were fixed on his hands, although it was obvious that he was listening to every word. `Funny,' House answered, `but that isn't what it looked like.'

`What's it to you, anyway? You've no right to tell me what I can and can't do! He's my boyfriend. What is he to you? He isn't yours,' he slurred.

`Wrong.'

`What?'

`That's where you're wrong. He is mine. So come near him again and it'll be the last thing you do as a free man.'

He hung up the phone. Chase was looking at him like he was deliverance. And like he wasn't entirely sure if his ears were working.

House nodded at the door. `Go grab a toothbrush and a change of clothes. I'll take you to my house until your locks are changed.'

Chase nodded briefly and left to pack a bag.

Wilson hissed, `Are you out of your mind!'

`That's a fairly common opinion, yes, but I have my doubts.'

`On a whim, you decide that the best way to deal with Chase's problems is to let him transfer his issues onto you? That's what this is. If you suddenly decided that it's vital to help Chase, there are other ways to do it. As it is,' he stuttered, `this is just transference! He's moving from a physically abusive relationship with Tom to an emotionally abusive one with you!'

That made House angrier than it should have. `I don't hit him!'

`I'm not saying you do...'

`And I'm saying that as long as I'm not hitting him, this is better. Can we at least agree on that much? Chase can sort out his childhood traumas on his own time. I don't care about that, I just need him not to come to work every day looking like he's just gone ten rounds. For God's sake, it's not like I'm taking him home to tie to the bed and ravish.'

`Thank you for that image.' Wilson shot back. `This isn't healthy, you know that.'

`Neither is being knocked around and locked up in your own apartment! Aren't you the one who's always telling me to be nicer to my staff? I'm fairly sure it was you who was telling me, three months ago, to tread softly around Chase because of his Dad. What's changed?'

`I didn't expect you to decide to become his keeper and steal him from his boyfriend!'

`His abusive boyfriend!'

`You know perfectly well that part of the reason he even ended up in a relationship like that is...'

`Oh, so now this is my fault? Well then isn't it lucky that I've decided to fix my mistake?'

Chase coughed, hovering at the door.

They shut up instantly. Great, now they were sitcom parents. Whatever you do, don't air the problems in front of the kids.

`Coat,' Wilson instructed Chase, heedless of the fact that he was doing nothing to help House's terrifying mental pictures. Especially since he had been about half a second from sending Chase for a coat himself. Mother hens with one chick might have been more accurate. Except that House, of course, was in fact a lone parent with three chicks. And Wilson was married with none. Which may have been why he was suddenly trying to look after Chase, but that was no excuse for implying that House was the cause of the boy's problems. Rowan had done most of the hard work long before House had met either Chase.

`Out,' he ordered, before Wilson started trying to zip Chase's coat for him. One night, while the locks were changed. Then Chase would be able to move back into his own apartment, and the crazy boyfriend would be locked out. Then they could go back to their "emotionally abusive" but mostly functional boss-duckling relationship.

Seemingly intent on disproving him, Chase jumped backwards when House accidentally caught his side with the cane on the way out of the door.

Not exactly affectionately, but firmly, he placed a hand on Chase's arm. `Come on, you've been called in sick for today and tomorrow, but Wilson and I need to go back to the hospital sometime today. Let's go.' He wrapped his fingers around Chase's elbow and led him out of the apartment.

FIN