Author's Notes: This one might turn into a continuation fic. It'll at least have one more chapter that I know of. : Enjoy.
Warnings: 'Finding Judas' spoilers.
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Chase didn't know it would really be all that cold outside, but today it felt absolutely horrid. The Australian was sure it was only himself that felt it, though. Everyone else didn't even give a passing shudder. He needed to get out…to get away, if only for a few moments.
With only a peanut butter and (far, far too much) jelly sandwich in his stomach, he didn't get very far at all. He hadn't even bothered to get his car on his way away from the hospital. He just walked, hoping that walking endless hours would bring him to an answer, would bring the terrible throbbing in his jaw to a stop. He supposed it wasn't the sore itself hurting rather than the idea that House was so far…gone. The diagnostician didn't even spare him that glance of light that maybe, just maybe, Robert was right.
"Go figure…" He mutters to himself, pulling his head to rest in his hands.
The bus stop's bench he sits on isn't comfortable at all and he's not really sure why he just didn't go home. It would've made more sense. The only thing that had gone remotely calmly that day was his conversation with Wilson – the one man he was sure would be his enemy. Sure, Wilson was being turned inside out by House, but they were still the best of friends, right? But the words and the sheer look on Wilson's face told him something else was going down…
If Wilson spilled everything, what would that do? House would turn to blame Chase first, of course. What else was new? Unphased by the thought, he continued on. Wilson and House's relationship would be torn to pieces, House would be gone (either in jail or rehab, either way he didn't particularly care) and his work place would slowly transform into something normal.
Normalcy was something he was never – and never could be – used to.
Before he could let thoughts wander any farther, there was a hand on his shoulder. Blues lifted briefly to examine the hand. Fingers pressed gently into wet --- when had it started raining? – clothing. Eyes traveled up until James Wilson's face was in plain sight.
"Sitting in the rain isn't exactly healthy you know." The oncologist smiles.
"It's calming…"
There's a knowing look in Wilson's eyes and Chase knows the other man has been in a similar position before. Wilson knows Chase can't feel it, didn't notice it at all. Those nights they're used to.
The soft pattering against his skin stops and is replaced with the pattering of water and plastic colliding. An umbrella.
"Want a ride?" James gestures to the rental car sitting parked on the side of the road. Retrieving his own car would've been absolute hell. Sure, he was guilty just seeing the car – it meant his bank account was open, it meant he had betrayed House in the darkest of ways. It was signaling a possible end.
"I'll be fine." It's a half-hearted statement offered from the Aussie but he doesn't question it. He only carefully lifts Robert's hand and molds those slender fingers around the umbrella's handle, leaving the blond with protection from the rain. Their hands stay connected far longer than they really should and once they part, Robert finds that he needs the contact, he needs the human sensation right then and there.
"Actually coul—" Chase's voice catches in his throat as James just turns and smiles, their eyes connecting. Robert blames the lack of words on the cold, but there's something different there. They both understand and even though things might not be okay in the end, they both know everything will widdle back together eventually. After all, it always had.
"Hop on in."
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