Work Text:
Robert, age 10
Robert approached his house, feet still damp in his sandals from his time at the beach with his best mate Chris. The last rays from the late-evening sun beat down on his face, and he saw his dad’s car in the driveway - he was actually home. He tried to be happy about that.
As soon as he opened the door, he heard screaming. His face screwed up involuntarily, squinting his eyes as if it would make the noise go away. He was about to close the door and pretend he’d never opened it, instead doing another lap around the block - or two - or ten - but he winced as he heard his mum call out his name.
“R-Robbie…? Robert, is that you?” No turning back now… he entered his house and closed the door behind him, slipping off his sandals and rubbing some of the residual sand from his feet on the carpet. As soon as he entered the kitchen and his mum locked eyes onto him, she made a beeline towards him. She grabbed at his wrist, pulling at it with more force than was comfortable. “Robbie we have- have to leave… your-dad is going to kill us, he-he’s planning to kill us, Robbie…!”
Robert stumbled as his mum jerked his hand forward, almost falling if not for his father catching his collar. The fabric choked him, but he supposed it was better than faceplanting. His father pulled him away and out of his mum’s grip, and he took a second to catch his footing.
“Your mother’s in one of her moods again.” His father told him in a low voice, one that she wouldn’t be able to easily overhear. “Go to your room Robert.”
He knew what he had to do, what he was told to do, but he felt like he couldn’t move. He felt like a little kid, hiding behind his father’s legs as his mother continued to scream and cry.
“He’s going to kill me!!” She yelled, as if someone was there to hear her. “I’m going to call the police, don’t take my son from me, don’t- don’t-!”
She screamed again causing Robert to flinch, instinctively reaching out to grab onto the fabric of his father’s expensive clothes who immediately smacked his hands away.
“I said go, boy! Now!!”
His father growled out dangerously, and Robert took that as his cue to run - his room was better than the study. He took off down the hall and up the stairs, running as fast as he could while keeping his footfalls light as a feather. He got to his room and shut the door, immediately retreating to the furthest corner he could find. He sunk down, pulling his knees to his chest and biting his lip as he could still hear yelling through the walls.
He slammed his hands over his ears, pressing his eyes into his knees and feeling the wetness there from his tears that just wouldn’t stop. He could feel the slight ache of his stomach that hadn’t eaten since lunch, but decided on getting food tomorrow. He sat and cried until he fell asleep on the floor, curled in the corner of his room.
~
Robert, age 17
His chest felt tight, as it often did nowadays. Not because of any physical ailment - he’d made sure if that - but because of the constant level of stress and anxiety that just never seemed to leave. Things he used to do just fine were beginning to be an impossible feat, it felt a bit like drowning.
He sat in his room, gripping the handle of his backpack with one hand and pressing his long fingernails into the palm of his other. He knew he had to cut them, knew he had to do a lot of things, but just… couldn’t.
He stood, swinging his backpack over one shoulder and leaving to trek down the stairs. He naively hoped that his mum would be asleep or passed out somewhere, and instantly felt bad for doing so. He wouldn’t be so lucky anyway, as he locked eyes with her the moment he entered the living room.
“R-Robbie…?” She’d been drinking, but at least she seemed more aware of her surroundings. “Where-are you going…?”
She slurred, and Robert held his backpack strap tighter.
“I’m staying over at Chris’s. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
He didn’t know how true that statement was, Chris had offered up his place for Chase to stay whenever he wanted, and truly, he just wanted a break. He wanted to just not worry about all the shit he’d been dealt after his dad left, everything even before that. Chris was too nice to him, but for now, Robert truly couldn’t find it in himself to care.
“No…”
She was shaking her head, and he bit his lip. He felt bad, but…
“I won’t be long, mum, promise.” He walked towards her to give her a kiss goodbye, but she grabbed his wrist as soon as he got close enough. He felt his flight or fight instantly engage as soon as she did, and he tried to pull away. “Mum-“
“No, no, you’re not leaving Robbie.”
“Mum-!”
“No! Robert, I tell you what to do!!” He stumbled back slightly as he finally pulled his wrist free, and his mum stood, beginning to yell at him while slowly advancing forwards. “I’m looking out for you, you don’t know anything Robert!! You’re stupid, stupid just like your father!!”
His eyes flicked behind him, he was almost pressed up against the wall. He kept his eyes unwavering on his mother, feeling a bit too much like prey. Was she going to hit him? He didn’t dare speak, he didn’t dare move other than to take careful steps back, all he could register was her screaming.
“I bet you think I’m a terrible mother, don’t you?! You wish I was never your mother? Well maybe sometimes I wish you were never my son!!”
Robert froze. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if his heart stopped with how everything around him momentarily screeched to a halt. It was something stupid said in the heat of the moment, and his mum clearly wasn’t in her right mind. He knew that. So then why did it feel so real?
“You spend so much time leaving me to go with your friends, why don’t you go live with them if you like them so much!?”
He kept his face carefully neutral, not betraying his own whirlwind of emotions even as tears threatened to leak down his cheeks. His eyes left his mum briefly to find his abandoned backpack on the floor, though her eyes followed his gaze to his bag. Both of them made a rush for it, but his mum was closer. She held it just out of reach behind her, moving it continually away as Robert kept trying to make a grab at it. Seemingly realizing he was getting a bit too close to taking it, his mum ran and locked herself in the bathroom.
“What the fuck…”
Robert muttered under his breath, a frantic edge to his words. He tried the door though it was a futile effort, banging against it and feeling every bit like a child. He hit his forehead against the door, sobbing as his mother continued to yell nonsensically at him from the other side. He pushed himself off the door, beginning to pace just outside the entrance.
“If you leave this house, you’re not coming back!!” Robert bit his lip hard, in his best attempt to not devolve into sobs. “I’ve done so much for you Robert, I work so hard, and the least you could do is fucking stay here with me!”
“Give me my bag back!”
“No!!”
“This is illegal!” All he had on him was his phone and keys, his wallet - some money, id, his fucking health card - and everything else was in his bag. He took a breath, attempting to calm himself. They were both acting like children, apparently someone had to be the adult. He stood, taking another breath, lowering his voice to a controlled level. “Mum, you can’t keep my bag from me, that’s illegal. How about you open the door, and we can talk this out?”
The door opened slowly, and he finally got a glance at his mum’s disheveled face. He was sure he didn’t look much better.
“I’m only doing what I know is best for you.”
“I understand that, I’m… I’m sorry for yelling at you. I apologize if you felt hurt by anything I said, it wasn’t my intention to anger you.”
She nodded, like the apology was expected, was needed from him. He paused, leaving air open for her response.
“I’m not giving it to you.”
Of course she wouldn’t apologize for anything she’d said to him.
“Mum, you can’t steal it-“
“I’m not giving it!! You’re not leaving Robert!” And there she was, just like that, back to yelling. He turned away, moving to grab his sandals. “Don’t you fucking dare-“
“I’m not leaving!” He said, a tad harsher than he’d meant it. “I’m just going on a walk, to clear my head.”
He left without another word, immediately texting Chris that things hadn’t quite gone to plan. As soon as he saw his best mate, he collapsed into tears in the other’s arms.
He’d stayed with Chris a day more than he’d originally planned to, even without his backpack. He was too scared to go home and grab it. Truly, he’d started to wonder whether his mother even loved him.
He could never have expected finding an empty house upon his return, with a cold body in the middle of it.
~
Chase, age 25
Working for Gregory House was an experience, to say the least.
People in med school were always telling them what to expect once they graduated - what being a doctor, or nurse, or fellow was supposed to be like. Truly, nothing could have prepared him for House.
The man was medical malpractice incarnate, truly it was a wonder how he wasn’t fired yet with the amount of lawsuits he must have accumulated. But Chase couldn’t deny that despite everything, he admired the man more than he’d ever admit to.
House was smart, analytical, completely and utterly logical when you looked beneath the sarcasm and jokes. He had no tolerance for bullshit, and wouldn’t soften the truth to spare your feelings. Sometimes Chase couldn’t help but wonder if House really only kept him around as a plaything - something to kick when he was bored, an experiment to see how long until the rubber band snapped, a fellow for the sole purpose of telling Cuddy he had one. But then House would send him an approving look when Chase pointed out something in a differential that even House had missed, and Chase knew it was all worth it.
But that day, as House walked into the Differential room, his whole demeanour screamed ‘danger’. It was the kind of feeling Chase got when his mum was having a day, and any wrong move could set her off. He sat up straighter, he tucked his hands into his lap, he schooled his face into a pleasant neutral. He didn’t do anything that could be misconstrued as him doing something wrong, nothing that could be pointed out and picked apart and yelled about.
House’s limp was more pronounced, his face set in more of a scowl than usual, and while he didn’t offer Chase any greeting the Aussie already knew that his boss’ tone of voice would be snippy and clipped. Before House could even sit Chase stood, pulling out the older man’s chair to an acceptable position. Usually House would tell him to go make coffee, and he’d shoot something back about being a fellow and not a butler but go make it anyway. Not today. He practically raced to the coffee maker while still walking perfectly evenly, making coffee with the kind of efficiency he wished he could duplicate. He set the coffee in front of House without a word, taking the two patient files House had set down when he’d taken a seat, and put one down open in front of House while he took the other to his own chair. He pretended not to notice House staring at him oddly, as if he were a puzzle. He hated when he did that.
He listed off the symptoms and potential causes, landing on a few different diagnoses and tests to prove or disprove them. All the while, House just stared at him.
“Why am I even here if you just do it all yourself?” Chase froze, heart skipping a beat. Fuck, he’d fucked up, House was mad at him and he didn’t even know where he’d gone wrong. House sent him even more of an odd look, before waving his hand in a dismissive motion. “Run along, go do your tests.”
Chase bit the inside of his mouth, he had to obey, but he felt like he couldn’t move. He wanted to apologize, but he couldn’t quite work out for what. How useless was he, that he couldn’t even-
“That was my way of telling you to skedadle, kid.” Being told twice was already far too many, and he beelined it for the door. He paused, however, when House spoke up again. “I wouldn’t tell you to do it if I didn’t think you were right.”
He swallowed, barely even registering the praise as he left to go do his job flawlessly. At least, it had better be flawless.
~
Chase, age 27
After working with Cameron and Foreman for a year, he could say that he liked them. They had good heads on their shoulders, and were intelligent in ways that were now fundamental to their little team. Despite Cameron’s over caring nature, probing questions and determination to fix everything, and the many, many times he and Foreman bumped heads both professionally and personally, he liked having them around. Besides, it was nice to not be House’s sole punching bag for once.
But this case seemed intent on breaking all of them down. The symptoms were rapidly progressing, and all four of them disagreed on the correct course of action. It had been days of nothing but coffee and all-nighters, and it was enough to put them all on edge. All it took was their patient coding, for the ticking time bomb to explode. The differential room was a mess of clashing opinions and harsh words, and Chase felt stuck in the middle of it. Stuck whether to push his idea, or give in and side with House.
Their arguing progressed to yelling, and Chase didn’t think he’d ever seen the three of them so agitated, so intent on getting their point across no matter what. He was about to chime in, play mediator, maybe try to get everyone to calm down and argue reason. But then Cameron screamed something about the patient's liver, and his vision went white.
All of a sudden it wasn’t Cameron’s voice, it was his mother’s yelling. It wasn’t House’s scowl, but his mother’s anger. It wasn’t Foreman pacing, but his mother advancing upon him. Their screaming began to mix with his mum’s in his head, and he slammed hands over his ears in an attempt to block out the sound. It didn’t really help, he wanted to run, or hide away, or cry, or just be anywhere else, or maybe just yell at all of them to shut the fuck up!! He couldn’t take it anymore, he just couldn’t-
“Could you all please, just be quiet!!”
Three mouths snapped shut, three bodies froze, three eyes flicked to him. He felt himself shaking, his hands were still clamped over his ears, and he knew in an instant that his distress was obviously visible. He began to wonder just how much of it had bled through in his voice. He stuck his hands forcefully back by his sides, opening and closing his fists a few times, pressing his fingernails sharply into his palms.
“Chase?”
Cameron asked in that sweet voice of hers that she used with frightened patients and children, and Chase wanted to tear his skin off.
“I just-“ He managed at last, before clearing his voice. “I don’t like yelling. Settle on a treatment, but do it like fucking adults. I’ll- I’ll be right back.”
And with that he took off to the door, walking quickly down the hallway in a random direction. He felt traitorous tears leak down his cheeks as soon as he was out of sight, and he had to bite his lip to keep himself from making a sound. His hand found its way to his chest, breathing ragged. It had been so long since that stupid fight, and he still couldn’t handle yelling? In the face of disappointment the only thing he could do was shut down and become so compliant he would basically do anything, and in the face of yelling he apparently forgot that there was a difference between the past and the present. He was just so angry sometimes, it wasn’t fair - none of it was!
Why was he so fucked up?