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Sheets Of Blood Stained Cotton

Chapter Eleven

Raindrops keep fallin' on my head
And just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed
Nothin' seems to fit
Those raindrops are fallin' on my head, they keep fallin'

James Chase sat discontented and irritated on the night of April 13, 2007. He sat there like any other prisoner in his cell on that night, his eyes switching side by side looking left and right. Most would tell old James that he was going crazy and that there was no one there, but James knew better.

He knew old Robbie had not left his side for a moment, he knew Robert was still there somewhere. Lurking in every dark corner. He heard Robbie's voice. He saw him there, and James knew he wasn't insane. Everyone else was. Not him.

And with that thought, James heard another voice tickling at his ear, but it was not Roberts. He looked beside him and saw Charles.

"Charles!," James said with glee and happiness, "Youre alive! I thought you were dead, they told me --- "

"Oh James, I'm just alive as you yourself." Charles placed a hand on James' shoulder. James began to shake, tears fell down his eyes.

"But I'm not!" James cried, "I'm not alive!! I'M DEAD AND ROBBIE KILLED ME!! HE KILLED US BOTH!!"

"Well what do you think I meant?," Charles said softly as he watched his brother stand up and bang the nearest wall with his fists.

James sobbed in his state of horror, "God I hate him!"

James began to pound his head on the wall, over and over. He had lost sense of the pain, in a way he just wanted to wake up. He just wanted to wake up from this god forsaken nightmare that his own flesh and blood had put him in. Speaking of blood, a good amount had already poured out of his now cracked skull.

James Chase did not nessicarilly care about the fact that he was becoming dizzy, and vision was becoming blurred. He simply just kept banging his head against the wall. And more blood, and more blood, and yet more blood poured out...

And that night, as other prisoners watched James Chase being carried away in his body bag, rumors and whispers started. After all, you don't have much else to do in jail besides gamble, bet, and gossip on and about your fellow jailmates. Like high school.

Some say it was a suicide attempt, others say he had finally gone crazy and was trying to achieve something with this head banging routine. Most people go with the "crazy" theory, as many who passed by his cell that night could have sworn they heard James talking to some sort of imaginary friend he called Charles.


So I just did me some talkin' to the sun
And I said I didn't like the way he got things done
Sleepin' on the job
Those raindrops are fallin' on my head, they keep fallin'

Robert Chase meanwhile, who was apparentley absolutely restless, had managed to tear through his body restraints. He knew this from years of expreience of keeping patients from getting out of their own body restraints. He got up out of his bed and prepared for yet another of his mischievious strolls through the hospital, praying House wasn't around.

He knew where he was going this time. He walked down the hallway, and up the spiral steps, deciding to avoid the elevators and the doctors in them. His feet were weak, and he could not help but stumble every five steps or so. After what seemed like an eternity, he reached the roof of the hospital, and he squinted at the change from the artificial lights to the lights of the rising sun. Carefully he stepped closer to the edge of the roof. He looked down below at the parking lot. The people below him looked like ants. Small and bustling about, just waiting for their demise.

If there is one thing Robert Chase had learned from this experience, its that doom changes the way you look at life. Robert Chase now saw life as a plan. Life was a plan, and its always some other bastard planning it out for you. He sighed, hating himself for just being part of Rowan Chase's plan.

Robert felt a raindrop fall to the tip of his nose. He looked to the sky, at the now clouding sunrise. A new day was dawning.

Looking back down at the parking lot, he could have sworn he saw Allison Cameron walking across the parking lot. Good Lord, how he loved her. He saw, squinting his eyes, that she was smiling. He didn't know about what, but he didn't care. He loved her smile, and so, he smiled with her. He watched her until she entered the building, then his smile faded.


But there's one thing I know
The blues they send to meet me won't defeat me
It won't be long till happiness steps up to greet me

It was April 14, 2007. Heavy April showers sprinkled over New Jersey, and you could hear a storm rolling in. Eric Foreman was careful as he drove into the hospital parking lot. It was difficult as he had been distracted very easily lately, he wasn't quiet sure why. He passed his own parking space, falling yet again into a state of distraction. Though his distractions varied to different things, work, life, often his parents, today it was about none other than Robert Chase. Foreman felt as though there was something just not right in the air this very morning, and it had a strong deal to do with Robert Chase. Foreman was more or less wondering why he cared. But there was just this feeling in his heart, he had a feeling he just couldn't shake. Foreman made a mental note to drop by and see Robert today. It was then, after that thought, that Foreman realized he had been circling the parking lot for sometime, sighed at himself, and made a turn.

And all of a sudden, a thud was heard, and a --- person shaped object seemed to hit the front of his car.

"Shit!," Foreman exclaimed as he slammed on the brakes. Feeling a rush of panic, Foreman jumped out of the car, while many people nearby gathered to go take a glance at the scene.

On the concrete ground lay a face down, sprawled and mangled figure with striking golden hair in a hospital robe. Foreman had a hunch as to who it was, but didn't dare turn the body over to see its face.

It was almost funny, how Robert Chase died so close to a hospital, but could not be saved. But in point, besides getting hit by a car, jumping off a six story roof was impact enough to guarantee no survival.


Raindrops keep fallin' on my head
But that doesn't mean my eyes will soon be turnin' red
Cryin's not for me
'Cause I'm never gonna stop the rain by complainin'
Because I'm free
Nothin's worryin' me

Allison Cameron walked into House's office. She smiled at him. He almost smiled back. He had called her about the test results. He handed her the sheet.

She read it.

"Positive." She smiled.

"Such a shame." House said, "I intervewed alot of good applicants. How bout fire Chase anyway and get that female applicant that can fit her whole fist into her mouth?"

Cameron laughed, "Sorry House, it looks youre stuck with Chase for another decade or so."

House rolled his eyes, "Whoopee." But in his heart, he was taking a hundered sighs of relief, just as Cameron was. House looked up and saw most the people in the hallway walking out to the lobby.

"Whats going on?" Cameron wondered out loud.

Cuddy opened House's office door. She took a breath.

"I think you guys better come out side and see this."


It won't be long till happiness steps up to greet me...

It was one week later.

House was just coming back home from the funeral looking blank and unfazed. He tried to think of anything that might distract him from the choking lump in his throat.

He had not seen Wilson around much lately, perhaps because Gregory House had been in search for a new member for his team. It was something he had to do, cases had been coming in like hailstones in worst storm ever. Ecspecially with Cameron crying all over the place, and Foreman being distracted by his guilty conciouse of hitting Robbie, House could really use the assistance.

He was going to turn the key and open the door, but rather suspiciously he saw that the door was already open. He went inside, and saw Wilson sitting on his couch. He smelled an odor in the air.

House looked at him strangely.

"Are you smoking weed?"

Wilson looked up at him, and lifted the joint up to House as if in offering. House stared at him for a moment, began to laugh, sat down on the couch, and took the joint from Wilson.

"Hows work been treatin ya?" Wilson asked House.

House shook his head.

"The usual, Jimmy, the usual."

Raindrops keep fallin' on my head
But that doesn't mean my eyes will soon be turnin' red
Cryin's not for me
'Cause I'm never gonna stop the rain by complainin'
Because I'm free
Nothin's worryin' me


A/N: Erm it took me a long while to decide wether this is how I should truly end the story, which is why it took me so long to update. Unfortunatley, I could see this ending no other way. I appreciate that people were actually still reading what they probably hoped to have some happy, meaningful ending. Well, sorry. Yeah.