Title: Rewriting Destiny
Chapter 21 – What Matters Most

Robert knew Carl….he gave him money…Carl bought drugs…came back to bully Robert…attacked him outside Bart's…Robert never gave him the money willingly…must have stalked Robert…watched…waited…came for money…attacked me and then…Robert went after him…Carl had fresh wounds….he and Robert fought…he was arrested…Robert's missing…missing…

"Carl killed someone and he and Robert fought and now…" House's voice trails off as he looks over at the little bottle of pain medication on the table a few feet away. "We have to find him. We need to go now."

"I checked everywhere you asked," Wilson explains with a small sigh. "Where do we go to now?"

"Carl's!" House snaps as he tries to get off the bed and get the rest of his clothing. "Robert is hurt and…"

"House…you can't kno…"

"I know what damage I did to Carl, I saw him just before I blacked out! The officer…what he said Carl looked like…those extra wounds were from Robert, they fought and now Robert is out there, probably hurting and…" his voice pauses as he looks at Wilson in misery. "I have to find him tonight."

"Maybe he went…home?" Wilson suggests hopefully as House rubs his face. He looks at his best friend's face and curses his inner feeling of helplessness. "I want him back too."

House looks up at Wilson and nods before he holds out his hand for Wilson to take; which he does and helps his friend slowly stand up and then steady himself. "I have to find him. He's out there and alone thinking that he's to blame for someone else's actions. If Carl hurt him…" his voice strains as he shakes his head. "The boy isn't a fighter. I know he's hurting and I need to make it better."

"But…"

"Don't tell Sid," House retorts with a clipped tone as pulls on his jacket and then squeezes his eyes shut. He knows he should be resting and after his harrowing night, having a fresh headache throbbing behind his eyes and radiating to his neck is standard. But he tells himself that his own personal pain can wait and with a few painkillers he'll be okay. Robert is his main priority now and his absence is beyond troubling.

"I don't recommend this nor do I like it," Sid huffs; having stopped House and Wilson on their way out of PPTH in their quest to find Robert Chase.

"He means…I need to find him."

"Well it's obvious you care about that young man, even if you can't say it to me…or out loud," Sid pauses with a kind smile as House gently frowns, "he's the one that came in with you right?"

"Yes and right now he needs my help."

"Never just the ordinary day with you Greg," the older doctor smiles before his expression clouds. "I know you know a concussion, even a mild one is nothing to laugh at so just promise me if you do find this young man and get him home safe and you feel…look, just be careful."

"I will but if I do come back tonight it might not be for me."

With that, House looks at Wilson and gestures for him to lead the way out of the ER and head to the car in their quest to find Robert Chase. "Let's try home first…just in case he came back," House's voice dies out in sorrow. He stares out the window in misery, picturing the younger man's lost and pleading expression as he sits at the bus stop hoping for some help.

"I still see him that night…sitting at the bus stop. So alone and lost looking, silently begging for help and…he's not a fighter Wilson…I mean a physical fighter. I know he's…Carl was high and…he thought he was doing the right thing…we need to find him."

The rest of the ride to House's apartment is spent in tormentable silence, made even worse when they reach the apartment and House has to wait while Wilson checks inside – his mind praying that Robert Chase is waiting.

'I'll make this right…'

He didn't tell Wilson about Chase's little confession but mind replays the few words he does remember, over and over and over.

'I did this…I'll make this right…I'm sorry…my fault…I'll make this right….'

"But it's not his fault…wasn't his fault…" House's voice whispers as he watches Wilson hurry back to the car with a dejected expression and knows their long night is about to get even longer.

Where are you Robert?

XXXXXXXX

As if hearing House's silent plea, Robert Chase's body feels a cool shiver running down his entire throbbing frame and instantly his weary eyes snap open. He blinks a few times, his mind desperately trying to push past the aching long enough for him to stand up and go…where the hell am I gonna go?

He squints into the strange horizon before him and then looks to the left and the right. He had rested in the darkened alcove, hidden by the shadows as the sires neared, lingered and only when his shivering wouldn't stop, he finally left. He hopes that Carl was arrested and hopes that someone…anyone will come forward and help to put the troubled man in jail.

'You knew Carl! He came for me because of YOU!'

He pictures House's angry face and knows he can't go back just yet. Maybe ever? I lost my key…I didn't really earn it. He broke the connection in the ambulance…he…he was angry…I can't go back. He starts to feel his body starting to shiver even harder and knows that he has to get somewhere. He had tried to clean himself up a bit but knows that he can't get rid of the black eye or fat lip but the rest he hopes won't raise too many brows. Chase hopes he can just find a seedy motel and…find a nearby shelter instead – it's free.

His lips cry out as he struggles to push himself upright, leaning against the darkened doorframe in an attempt to get his heart rate to calm and his stomach to settle. The small bits of food that were still digesting in his stomach came up after his fight with Carl; leaving it agitated and empty. What I wouldn't give for a bowl of House's homemade soup and bread right now.

For a few seconds, his mind revels with happy thoughts of House taking him in from the rainy cold and helping to coax him back to a warm and well fed state. Carl attacked House because of YOU! His mind inwardly yells. House was injured because of YOU! His mind scolds once more, prompting him to grit his teeth and gently growl – at himself.

He wraps his arms around his chest and pulls away from the doorway. His first few steps falter but his body summons up some reserve energy and he pushes on into the night.

Where am I going to go?

XXXXXXXX

"Let's head for Carl's," House suggests after Wilson comes back into the car with the knowledge that their apartment is devoid of the younger man's presence. "Maybe…maybe he's still there or…they didn't find him. The police…maybe he hid from them. He was always worried about going to jail and…and I did this right?" House suddenly asks as Wilson looks at him in surprise.

"What? You?...no, why would you even think that?"

"He didn't stay. I should have said…more…more to make Robert stay."

"You were attacked and on some medication that made you…groggy. Robert should have, stayed. But…when I saw him so distraught and he…"

"He blames himself and I did little to appease that," House huffs as rubs his face; Wilson directing the car onto Carl's street and then starting to slow as they near. "I should have told him to stay; made him understand that I wasn't mad. Do you think he'll want to come back home?"

Wilson hears the soft sorrow in House's tone and feels his heart sink as they stop near the area that is still marked as a crime scene with two uniformed officers there and a marked police cruiser. "Sure…I think so…I hope so…" his voice stammers as they stop the car. "Well…" he starts. But can only offer a small curse when House doesn't wait to hear the rest but gets out and slowly heads toward the entrance of the home.

"Can I help you?" One of the officers asks in haste as House bypasses them on the lawn a few meters away and heads for the front door.

"Officer Nelson said this is where a Carl Jensen was arrested tonight. He attacked me tonight. He uh…he took something that was mine that wasn't on him and I just wanted to see if it was here. Mind if I look around?"

The officer's trade shrugs before the one House had been talking to nods for him to continue on his path. Which of course he does.

"What are we looking for?" Wilson asks in an undertone.

"Something…anything that'll prove…I don't actually know," House starts and then finally resigns as he looks at Wilson with a heavy frown. "I don't know where to look for Robert but…I have to do something."

They enter the small, musty smelling home and instantly House's stomach tightens. He hears Robert's angry words, accusing Carl of attacking a friend over a few measly bucks and then…charging. But with Carl's size and a drug-induced rage fueling his adrenaline it's no real contest. Chase would get in a few lucky hits and that's what he heard from Officer Nelson. Of course, Nelson didn't know that someone else was there. And that's the person he's so desperate to find.

"What a mess…" Wilson's voice mutters as he ducks his head into the living room and then looks at House with a mild look of disgust.

But House isn't interested in the same things that Wilson is; his eyes are fixated on the fresh spattering of blood on the wall from where he assumes Robert and Carl fought. He hears Robert cry out and instantly his heart starts to ache. He pictures Carl looming over Robert's fallen frame, laughing at his helpless state and making House's hatred for the arrested drug addict surge even higher.

"We have to find him," House tells Wilson in a broken tone. "Are there are um…any…any shelters."

"What?"

"Shelters," House's voice starts as he tries to clear the emotional misery from his mind. "He'd go to a shelter. Silly boy would save the money and just…" House pauses as he pushes past Wilson and heads for one of the uniformed officers. "Is there any kind of shelter around here?"

"Like a homeless shelter?"

"Yes or a soup kitchen or…or something a man with no money might go to."

"Sure…there's St. Bart's shelter or…yeah I think the soup kitchen on 33rd. This area is pretty rough though," the officer replies as he looks at House and Wilson with arched brows. "What's going on?"

House starts to turn, uttering in an undertone, "I need to find my boy," and leaving the officer to trade wondering glances with a somewhat surprised Wilson. Wilson of course knows that House really does care for Robert Chase in a fatherly role, but outside of himself never thought he'd hear House voice it to another human – putting himself out on that emotional wire for a stranger to evaluate. But that also gives House's best friend a bit deeper insight into his current mental status – Greg House might as well be searching for his biological son.

"Okay so…which place first?"

XXXXXXXX

With his head pounding and his vision shifting between blurry and clear, Chase's mind tells him to just find something…anything, even a dry cardboard box to collapse in. He'd prefer even a small, single bed in a shelter but as his legs start to falter from sheer fatigue alone, he wonders if he'll even make it.

You let House down in so many ways…he's probably at the hospital right now saying 'you're getting what you deserve.'

With those sobering words, Chase's arms wrap tightly around his aching chest once more as he looks up at the faint glow from the familiar sign in the near distance. He knows he looks rough, with dried blood around his nose and probably his mouth but he doesn't care; he's not in a part of town where they'll question his appearance. If anything, he's worried more about the ten dollars in his wallet that someone might do him some permanent harm just to take than his own physical wellbeing.

But letting House down is what pains him the most; the knowledge that he's let down another father figure but this time in such a horrible way. He can't blame House for not wanting to believe him; Carl had all the right lies and probably played his drug-induced role perfectly. Tears of angry frustration threaten to well as he pulls the edges of his tattered jacket closer to this chest.

Chase pauses before he enters the building's entranceway, stopping to look around and wondering if he'd be better off just at a bus shelter or somewhere on his own. But the tempting feel of warm air and the smell of homemade soup draw him further into the belly of the building. He tries to straighten himself up somewhat and fix his disheveled appearance but all he wants to do is collapse onto the nearest bed.

"Can I help you?"

Chase stops and turns to see an older woman looking at him in wonder. "I just need…a bed…for a few hours…" he manages with a tired huff.

"Are you okay? Where do you belong?"

"Uh…nowhere…here…the street," Chase manages weakly as his jaw tightens. "Please…just for a few hours."

"You been in a fight?"

"He was arrested. Tried to um…steal from me…hurt my friend. He's arrested."

"I don't want any trouble here," she warns firmly.

"No ma'am. It's over now," Chase answers politely. "Please?" He begs with soft sorrow. "Just a few hours?"

"Do you want something to eat?" She asks in a kind tone as she slowly approaches the rough looking younger man.

"No…just a bed to lie down…for a few hours. Please…just a bed. I don't care where it is."

"Come with me."

Chase's ears pick up some shuffling and he turns to see a set of dark eyes looking at him intently. The small blond hairs on the back of his neck try to bristle but he doesn't give them much of a chance as he hurries past and follows the older woman into a small back room. It used to be a utility closet but it has a single bed waiting for him and that's all he needs.

"If you want something to eat come into the main room. And let me know if you need something to clean up with."

Chase watches her leave and then heads for the bed and lets his weary frame voluntarily collapse onto the firm surface. It's not that comfortable and he knows it's not as clean as it should be and…it's not home. Those few words tug at the inner recesses of his heart but he knows…this is his doing and if House is suffering because of his doing, there is no way he should be faring any better. I did this…

He slowly removes his jacket to use it as a small blanket for his chest and then leans his head down on the little pillow and closes his eyes. The corners water as he pictures House's disappointed expression looking up from his hospital bed and wondering why, after he had trusted him with this very own key to his home, did he violate that trust by sending someone to collect money for an addiction.

House…please forgive me, he begs in silent misery before he drifts off into darkness.

XXXXXXXX

"No thanks, I can look and see for myself!" House snaps impatiently as the startled shelter manager looks at him and then Wilson.

"It's been a long night," Wilson replies with a heavy frown as House mutters something under his breath and then pulls away, slowing making his way around the open area, his eyes darting around to all the side benches to see if perhaps Robert Chase was slumped over on any one of them.

So far nothing.

Next he heads into the rooming part of the shelter, poking his head into each room to see if he can identify any of the occupants in the bed.

Still nothing.

His agitation swells, forcing his headache to inwardly grow to tsunami size, forcing him to stop and take another painkiller; Wilson watching in concern. "What?" House snaps. "I need them!"

"You need to rest," Wilson replies in haste as House stops and glowers. "I know why you're here but I'm just saying as a friend…a close friend, you need to rest."

"I'll rest when I know where Robert is. Stubborn boy deserves a good…" he starts and then stops. He already was thrashed…by Carl. You can joke…but tonight it wasn't funny, his brain chides as he stomps toward the exit doors. "What's next on the list?" He calls out as Wilson trails behind him. "He should have stayed…"

"Okay so which one next?"

"You pick," House puts the decision back to Wilson as he stares miserably out the window.

"We'll find him."

"He's hiding from me," House retorts sourly; something that actually makes Wilson's lips slightly twist upward. "Oh you think it's funny?"

"I have an image of him hiding under the bed and trying to suppress a laugh while you call out Marco…" Wilson shrugs before his expression clouds. "I think he's hurt and scared and feeling responsible and will just need a night to sleep it off. He's no stranger to the street."

"Doesn't make me feel any better," House grumbles as he looks at his watch. It was late…almost 2am but he doesn't care. He knows inside his mind and heart there is no way he'd ever be able to just go home and try to get some proper rest while Robert Chase was still out here – somewhere. His heart actually aches to think of the younger man, in a physically bad way, seeking shelter from strangers. It's wrong…he needs to come home…I need him to come home…

The reach their second stop and then trade weary glances before they go through the same motions as the first shelter, getting out and then going in search of the shelter administrator in the hopes of finding their missing friend. But once again this one turns out to be as fruitless as the first.

"No sorry…I can ask my wife when she gets back but she usually lets me know as soon as someone new arrives. Plus everyone that comes here comes for food and I haven't seen any new faces for the past few hours," the older man answers in truth. But Robert Chase is there; it was a fact that she had forgotten to tell her husband before she went out for a few more edible supplies. "Check around if you'd like."

"I'd like," House retorts as he pushes past the older man and starts to inspect all areas for sleeping. With each strange face that he bypasses, his heart sinks further and further; threatening to make him literally break down on the spot. But he tells himself he must be strong and find Robert and make things right. I need to fix this!

He concludes his search of every room and then just as he turns to leave, spies a small room marked 'utility' and pauses for a few brief seconds. But a small commotion in the main room diverts his attention away from the room that used to be used for supplies and not letting him discover the person he's looking for is actually asleep behind the misleading sign.

"Come on…let's try the next one," Wilson urges, sleep also beckoning the weary oncologist.

House doesn't argue. He merely turns and follows after Wilson back outside into the cool night air. At the same time, another temporary resident of the shelter uses the commotion to start to pilfer things from other rooms – with or without an occupant.

Chase's fuzzy brain starts to hear the commotion but by the time he's pulled himself from his sleepy stupor House has already left the building and the internal melee has started. His weary eyes open just in time to see a darkened figure step into the room and advance toward him.

"What do y….hey!" Chase cries out as he feels his jacket being pulled off. "Hey! I need…that!" Chase growls as he tries to hold onto his ratty jacket. It wasn't worth much and has no sentimental value other than keeping him warm, so the fight to keep it is merely for his own mental well-being. But with literally no strength left in his limbs, the fight is rather one sided and he endures a firm push to the side and slumps back down, cursing the stupid jacket and just wanting to find some relief for his weary frame. It was just one more small thing in an already long list of miseries endured over the past few hours.

He stares at the door with a somber gaze as he pulls the thin blanket over his slightly shivering frame and thinks back to the first night House took him into his apartment; the tender warmth and fatherly kindness struck him right away and it instantly cherished. But the hearty and nutritious meal; the warm and inviting bed, the hot shower, even the comforting knowledge that nothing would be stolen was something he longs for now.

But mostly it's the fact that House isn't there that he misses the most. I miss House…I do…is that lost forever? Yes!

Chase's weary eyes close once more, his brain telling him that he's once again alone and forced to fend for himself in an unfriendly shelter. His body drifts into darkness mostly due to sheer exhaustion.

However, his misery isn't to be unending…

Just before Wilson is about to turn the corner, House's shrill cry stops him short.

"Stop!"

"What on earth?"

"Back-up! It's Robert!"

"What?" Wilson asks in shock as he quickly turns the car around so it's pointing the shelter they just left. Sure enough they both gaze into the distance to see someone about Chase's height, same hair color and…the jacket. Wilson directs the car toward the shelter and House is out as soon as the vehicle comes to a stop.

"ROBERT!" House shouts. But when the man turns House instantly sees that it's not the person he's looking for and his heart sinks once more. However, his mind tells him to go back into the shelter and look again. "Hey! Where'd you get that jacket!"

Without warning, the man turns and bolts; Wilson wanting to run after him.

"No let him go…I saw him inside the shelter and he didn't have that jacket. Robert's in there," House turns and hurries back toward the front of the shelter with Wilson in tow.

"We looked in every room."

"He's in there!" House snaps as he reaches the front door and yanks it open. The inside is still in turmoil but House doesn't care; even knocking a few people with his cane to get them out of his way. He looks around, his eyes and mind frantic to find the younger man he's so desperate to bring back home.

Robert…where are you my boy? Where? WHERE!

"You!" House's angry voice calls out to the older man they had talked to earlier. "Robert Chase is in here! I just saw some…miscreant outside who stole his jacket."

"What? What'd he look like?"

"Wilson, you tell him, I'm going to look for Robert."

Wilson can only shake his head as he follows the older man into his office to look at the picture wall and put a face to the name; anxious to get back to House in his quest to find their missing friend.

House rechecks all the rooms and then stops in the middle of the hallway; his mind racing. Where? Robert…where are you?

Then he turns…he spies the door marked 'utility' and takes a chance; heading for it at top speed as Wilson leaves the office and hurries after House. House pushes the door open and flips on the small light and then utters a small gasp; there before him on the little, dingy bed is his beloved boy.

"Oh God…Robert," House whispers as Wilson peers past him looks down. House hands Wilson his cane and then slowly kneels down by Chase's side. He feels his cool neck for a pulse and then gently turns his face upward and gasps once more. "Damn."

"He fought with Carl pretty good," Wilson whispers as he removes his jacket and drapes is over Chase's frame; eliciting a small whimper in return.

"Robert?" House prods the younger man, his heart aching to get him home, cleaned up and into some proper care. "Robert?"

Chase's mind thinks he hears House's voice but is too tired to pull himself from his painful stupor. But when he hears the voice again, he dares to slowly open his eyes and look up to see House looking at him in concern. Not anger…not disappointment, but concern. Is this for real? Is House really here?

"House?" He dares to ask as House nods and then checks the cut on his cheek. "I'm…sorry," he manages as his puffy eyes water.

"You're not to blame for anything," House tries to assure him as Chase looks up at Wilson and then back at House. "You can't stay here. It's time to go," House tells him as he helps Chase slowly sit up.

"Where?"

"Home," House answers in truth as he tries to Chase stand up. Chase at first protesting.

"I don't deserve…I can't. I'll stay here."

"Robert…"

"Carl hurt you…because of me," Chase whispers as he tries to swallow.

"And he hurt you…because of me."

House's words instantly surprise Chase, prompting him to look up in wonder. "I should have told you to stay. That I was okay and that it wasn't your fault. Enough talk now. It's time to go."

Chase just stares are House, not even sure if he's hearing the right words. "I broke…your trust."

"How? You said you had the key and you did. Carl didn't. He's the one that lied. I don't hold you responsible for his actions. He's in jail and you need to come home now."

"But…"

"We're going home and that's final," House replies firmly and then smiles; Chase looking up in defeat. "Going home."

Just as House and Wilson get Chase to stand up, Chase's arms wrap around House and hold on as his body finally breaks down and he weeps.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry," he whispers as House shakes his head and holds his trembling frame in his protective grasp.

"No my boy, I'm sorry," House tells him warmly as Chase's teary gaze looks at him in wonder. "Let's go home."

A/N: *phew* Chase is back where he belongs – in papa duck's care but it wasn't an easy find (hey can't make it easy for them!) but that's the reward for them right? And how will the fatherly TLC continue at home? And as always lots of House/Wilson. On a side note I'm so happy that you all have liked the Chase/Jimmy friendship so far and trust me you'll see these young buddies hanging out again soon but first…a familiar little face makes an appearance up next! So please do review before you go and thanks so much!