Protection
By: Lycoris Calantha
It was stupid, and you shouldn't have done it. Fear should not have made you do that, and now your working relationship with everyone is severely jeopardized.
(He'd put his hand on your shoulder in comfort when everyone thought you were doomed, and you knew he genuinely cared.)
"Can I come in?"
"What are you doing here?"
"Don't worry, I won't ravish you."
"This isn't really a good time..."
"Seeing someone?"
"... That's none of your business."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes."
"Yeah? I was under the impression he was going to arrive soon, so I think it would be better for me to leave by then. Better for you, at least."
"... Alright then, come in."
"It looks much better now, probably," he says, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on a chair, sitting on the same chair and resting his head on your table. "Your room, I mean."
"Why are you here?"
"I... I just wanted to talk."
"About what?" you ask, handing him a cup of tea.
He takes it. "About that night."
"We already did. You said it shouldn't happen again." And that unless it sucked, and they were given an opportunity, people would do it again. And that it didn't suck. She didn't trust her voice to speak and say the last two sentences aloud.
"Yeah. Do you want it to?"
"You said that -that- is when the trouble starts."
"Yes, but you didn't answer the question."
"I didn't know if I was infected with HIV."
"And you used me," he says lightly, not sounding bitter at all. Just knowledgeable and resigned. "You were high and trying to live it... and so you used me."
"You feel bad about it?"
"No, not really. I just wanted to know if you wanted it to continue."
You laugh. "It'll never last. And I have a date."
"He knows you might have been infected?"
You are angry. You stand up, shaking and barely controlling your temper. "That's none of you're business," you whisper heatedly. "Out!"
He nods briefly, standing up and heading to the door in quick strides. "Okay."
He pauses before turning the knob.
"You're running away, you know," and he twists the brass knob and walks out.
You find your voice and manage to yell at him as he leaves. "Not everyone's like you, Chase!"
He looks back over his shoulder. "Of course not," he says shortly, before striding away.
The night was cold, you reflect.
Now someone stops in front of your door. "Hi?" He flourishes a bouquet of flowers.
You smile. It is forced and you hate fake smiles, but your date smiles back at you, and it seems too genial.
You brush your thoughts aside. You're just being paranoid, you think. You welcome him in.
"Someone you know?" he says, jerking his head back outside.
"Yeah, sorry you had to hear that."
"Seems like a jerk."
You shrug and offer him tea, taking Chase's cup and putting it in the sink. "You don't know him."
"You know him well, then?"
"That's none of your concern."
"Ex-boyfriend?"
"... That's really none of your business."
"Co-worker? A fling?" his tone grated on your nerves.
"Please stop."
"Oh, right." He stops, drinks his tea, puts it back down. "He comes here often?"
"No," you turn to face him and notice that he's staring at the chair opposite of him.
The chair Chase was sitting on.
His jacket still hung on the chair, like a talisman. Like protection.
"Oh," you say offhandedly. "I'll give it back to him tomorrow. He must have left it. Should we go out now?"
"Sure," he stands up, hands you his cup. "How do you feel about Italian?"
"... I don't mind."
He was such a perfect gentleman that it was suspicious. He knew what women liked, and though you weren't typical, you were flattered.
You stopped by a bar afterwards. You ordered a drink, you talked, you laughed...
You had passed out by the third drink.
Rohypnol.
Rohypnol is called the date rape drug with good reason.
It was undetectable to the victim, and it knocked the victim out for quite some time.
The victim's life is never the same.
When you woke up, you feared the worst. Though you were once married and you were not a virgin, you knew what PTSD could do to a person.
You were on an unfamiliar bed, and that in itself was odd. You knew that victims are usually left in the streets. You are in a clean bed, covers around you. You're still wearing your clothes.
The room was clean, neat, but it was clear a man lived in it.
"You awake?"
You look up quickly. Chase.
He smiles apologetically. "I followed you... I forgot my jacket."
You smile. "Oh? Thanks for saving me. You... you were right. That guy was a jerk."
"Juice?" he hands you a glass. Orange, with bits of pulp.
"Why didn't you take me to my house? You know where it is, and you know where I keep my extra key."
"He knows where you live?" he offers, sitting at the foot of the bed. "And I prefered that I could watch over you."
"That's sweet but you could've gotten the jacket at my house, you know where the key is. Then you wouldn't have followed me."
"Breaking and entering? No way."
And you both laugh, because you know he's done enough breaking and entering for a lifetime.
"I followed you because something seemed wrong."
An incredulous laugh. "What?"
"The way he was looming over you, it couldn't have meant any good."
You hadn't noticed. "You didn't think you were being paranoid?"
"I trust my feelings," he puts a hand on your calf, covered as it was with thick sheets. "I think... you should, too."
"I should trust... your feelings or mine?"
"Both?" he offers, grinning.
"What did you do to him?"
"I left him on the streets..."
"You can't do that?"
"Good grief, what -does- someone have to do to get you to hate them?"
"It was a cold night."
"He tried to sexually assault you!" He inhales deeply. "And I called the cops. They probably picked him up five minutes later. Ten, tops."
"How'd you get me, anyways?" How did you save me?
"I waited for him to bring you out and then I... relieved him of you."
"Thanks. I appreciate you stalking me."
"Any time." He takes the glass from your lax fingers. "We should go to work soon. Maybe drop by your house first and..." he suddenly looks concerned. "Or if you're not up to it, it's fine. You can stay here... or I can drop you off, pick up my jacket..."
"Let's go to work."
He looks surprised, but smiles. "Sure, do you want to drop by your house first?"
"Yeah, I think... that would be best."
You arrived at the hospital together.
"Good morning," House says as you entered the room, seemingly irritated that you arrived later than him. "We have a case."
And the two of you look at each other and smile. It would be fine.