A/N: Hello there, faithful readers! Welcome to another House fic by yours truly -- what can I say? I've been inspired. (:

This fic was written in anticipation for tomorrow's (March 8th) new episode of House, "Private Lives," in which Wilson, House, and Chase go speed-dating. I started thinking about this and about Chase's reaction in particular. Is Chase ready to move on from Cameron?

Anyways, this crazy little thing jumped out of that inspiration, and here we have a fic entirely centered around our favorite Aussie. It's a little darker than what I normally write, but Chase's character definitely has some darker parts to him.

WARNINGS: There a mention of self-harm, so please don't read this if that will be triggering. No action, just a mention.

I don't own House or the characters. Enjoy! (: Also: thanks so much to Sarah for reading through this informally.

Easy as Life

It had been Wilson that had convinced him to come speed dating.

"C'mon, Chase, how long has it been since you've been out on the dating scene?" Wilson stopped to talk with him on the patio outside the main hospital entrance.

"Not since my wife left me, actually," Chase replied nonchalantly, though his accent thickened with traces of barely-veiled emotion.

It took Wilson a second to sort through the syllables and decipher a meaning, though the Aussie's distress was hard to miss. "Maybe it's time to get back out there, then." Wilson's tone softened. He saw the change in Chase's eyes then. They were slowly beginning to thaw.

Chase looked down, drawing his shoe across the rough cement in a rare display of uncertainty. "I'll think about it," he spoke after a long pause. His eyes flashed back up to Wilson's.

A smile spread onto Wilson's face. "Atta boy. It's at the community center at eight. Dress smartly." He clapped Chase on the shoulder once more before striding towards the doctor's lot, surprised by how quickly the blond doctor had caved.

Chase, too, was surprised by how quickly he had given in. Had he really moved on from Cameron? No, a small twinge near his heart told him. Not yet.

But maybe it was time to try again.

--

Slam.

Ka-thump. Ka-thump. Ka-thump. Ka-thump.

Tik. Tik. Tik. Tik. Tik.

Chase shoved his fists over his ears and shrank down into the couch cushions as far as the law of physics would let him. He shoved his attention from his mind and heart, from the slam of the door still echoing in his head and the relentless slapping of the clock's second hand against its silvery face.

—bong, bong, bong, bong –

The persistent chime brought him back to the ten o'clock here, the post-speed-dating now. Chase gently removed his fists from his ears and wrapped his arms around his waist, carefully maneuvering himself to an upright position.

It was funny how it was the little things that could set a person off. Speed dating had been a good idea, at least for a while. He, Wilson, and House (who, surprisingly, had come along) had split up in an attempt to divide and conquer. After an hour of cycling through women (he almost smiled as the phrase ran across his mind; it sounded so funny), he had met a girl named Amy. He had liked her, and she had liked him. She made him laugh. They had had a good time in that short session, and Chase was about to ask her out for a drink afterwards when she flicked her hair over her shoulder.

His hazel eyes tracked the path of her auburn hair as if in slow motion, watching each individual strand fall into place. The image was a carbon copy of a certain blonde doctor and her gorgeous, sunny hair, and Chase felt something inside of him retreat once more. As soon as the session with Amy ended, Chase got up and left. He cut and ran, all but dashing from the vicinity. Neither House nor Wilson saw him go, which was probably all for the better, now that he thought about it.

It took him a while to get home. He moseyed around, drove slowly, drove in circles around his block until he'd run the fire from his blood. His car slid into park mode with a kind of weary sigh, and all of Chase's restless energy began to fade at once. He had gotten inside his apartment and immediately headed for his couch, not even bothering to turn on the lights. As Chase lay there in his dark apartment, shutting out the sounds of passing time, his thoughts began to worm their way past his defenses.

Chase was used to getting jerked around by time. He was used to the poison-laced world of daydreams that taunted and eluded, and to the bitter, echoing emptiness of denial. And most of all, he knew the sudden collision with reality that brought him up short like a brick wall.

All of his life he'd been fighting the inevitable. First came the drawn-out sting of his parents' separation, then the raw ache as he watched his mother drink herself to death. Years later his father showed up again, and Chase had finally forced himself out of his habitual lonely corner of antipathy. Do you have time for a drink before you go, Dad? No? All right. See you later, Dad.

See you later.

Or not.

Luck was always against him. He figured it was a part of fighting the inevitable: perpetual bad luck. Perpetual failures. He couldn't even mourn his father in the peace and solitude he craved like air. No – he ended up killing a patient because he had to get the phone call at that particular moment.

Nice try, Chase, the Inevitable shrugged. But when are you going to learn? You're not cut out for this.

Then it was Cameron, the first flicker of brightness that he had allowed to truly invade his dark corner in years. Years. She gave a shine to the grimy windowpane of his world and put a spark in his apathetic gaze. Like seeing the first weed or wildflower after a long trek through the desert, Chase soaked in her beauty. He breathed in her grace and allowed her to slowly, slowly melt his icy boundaries away. He basked in her warmth and generosity and for once, he felt like he was just a normal person chasing a tangible thing, not a rainbow or a sunbeam.

And then things fell apart again. Things fall apart, the centre cannot hold. Why do things fall apart like they do?

And his windowpane was shattered. First it was only broken, laced by a spider web of cracks that marred the surface but left the general picture intact. But slowly, slowly, the pieces began to fall to the ground. Spiraling away from his grasp on downdrafts of that stench of failure that, once again, had come back to haunt his waking life.

Long time no see, Chase. Glad to see you still can't hold things together. But you never were cut out for this life. I would have thought you'd learned by now. The Elusive Inevitable had a thick and viscous voice, like molasses or corn syrup. Chase knew that voice, just as he knew the thoughts whirring through his mind.

Chase squeezed his eyes tighter and let out a quiet moan before forcing himself back to the present.

"C'mon, Robert, open your eyes," he muttered aloud, allowing the sound of his voice to serve as an anchor. Chase felt the familiar sting as he realigned his thoughts and welcomed back his common sense – it was like the ache after setting a broken bone. It was painful, but Chase knew it had to be done. Pain had to come before he could heal.

He took a deep breath, allowing his eyes to slide around his dark apartment. They brushed over the gray velvet cover of night, gleaning outlines and shapes, but not much else. But his eyes landed clearly on the silver object shining in the moonlight.

It was a safety pin from the shirt he'd worn this morning, laying where he'd discarded it on the coffee table. Just a simple safety pin, catching the rays of the quarter moon that filtered in through his curtains.

Chase's thoughts flitted back to that girl he had dated years ago, the one who had liked being burned. She had held a lighter to her own skin, but more often than not she had someone else do it for her. She said she liked the feeling of submission. She had tried to get Chase to burn her, but he had quickly backed out. As Layla's face filled his mind, a thought darted through his head like a glimmering fish. Wouldn't it be so easy, to take that safety pin and drag it across his skin? Just drag it, just enough to draw blood. Maybe he could provide an outlet for the turmoil whirring around his head. Counter the emotional pain with an easier physical pain.

Chase was reaching for that lovely silver temptation when he came to his senses. Eyes wild, he knocked it from the table to the floor and lurched to his feet.

"What'm I doing?" he whispered to himself, running his fingers through his tousled blonde hair and leaving it wilder than before. "What'm I doing?"

As he stood in that nightvelvet-draped living room, breathing hard as adrenaline flooded through his body like a living current, he finally felt the dark fog of exhaustion beginning to slide over the corners of his mind. It had been a long day, a long night. He deserved some rest.

Chase didn't even bother changing out of his clothes from the evening. He crawled on top of his unmade covers and lay, cradled by darkness, until his heavy eyelids dropped like lead weights.

There was always tomorrow, at least to find another way to escape.

Did you like it? Hate it? Do you not really care? Did you read it while having a ham sandwich for lunch today? Let me know! That's what that review button is for. (: If this is my first House fic that you've read, I encourage you to check out my others: TASTING THE SKY (finished) and HEY, SOUL SISTER (still getting there).

Also: I have ideas for the second chapter, but nothing's really set into stone yet. What do you want to happen? Who do you want to see?

Thanks for reading! (: