So erm... this is a bit AUish but mostly just a little character study on Robert Chase
The History of Nepotism
Robert Chase was eight years old when he learned the world alcoholism. He was a rather smart child and actually had heard of the word before then, but eight is when he realized just exactly what it meant. He was kinda of small for his age with sunny blond hair that fell to his ears and still happy blue eyes, though that was rapidly fading. He had realized that things weren't right in his world. He realized that not everyone lived the way he did. He'd gotten his taste of something better.
Mum was lying on the couch in an old bathroom. There was a pungent alcohol smell wafting off her body that made him feel sick. Her bright blond hair was stringy and greasy and her skin pallid and nearly transparent. His father was still at work as he stared at her from the doorway. He jumped into action immediately. He set down his backpack and kicked off his shoes. He walked into the room and pulled the luckily plastic cub from her hand. The contents were more gin then tonic and her glassy eyes opened but didn't see him.
"Rowan? Rowan where's Robbie?" She stared at him with watery eyes.
"I am Robbie. You need to take a bath Mum." He thought of last night spent at Mitchell's house, his only friend and felt anger well in his gut.
"I'm too tired dear."
"GET UP MUM! GO WASH!" He yelled at her trembling, the cup squeezed tight in his hand.
Tears filled her eyes and spilled over. The door opened and he turned to see Rowan enter and put his briefcase down. He shook his head as he took them in and walked over to Robbie and took the cup from him.
"Go get started on your homework." He murmured.
"Don't send him away Rowan. He was…"
"He shouldn't see you like this. He's young and impressionable."
"Hang that!" She yelled struggling to her feet and pulling the robe around her body better. "He needs family. He needs his father!"
Robbie moved back into the foyer and watched as they screamed at each other over him even as they forgot that he was there. He sighed in bitterness that was too old for his few young years. He picked up his backpack and headed up the stairs. Upstairs was Elena, the maid looking rather distraught. She smiled at Robbie and hugged him.
"How was school?" She asked even as she looked past him to make sure that the fight wasn't about to make its way upstairs.
"It was all right." He sighed and headed towards his room.
Elena sighed as she looked after him, hands on her pristine white apron.
"ELENA!" Rowan Chase yelled and she sighed again before rushing down the steps. Robbie was strong, he'd be all right.
Robbie was ten when he found something to make his emotional pain relative. He was supposed to be playing outside but he didn't have any friends anymore. Not even Mitchell liked him anymore. His mother was dressed in the way he was use to. Stringy hair pushed over her shoulder, some old dress that she pulled out of her closet and a gin and tonic in her hand. His father was angry enough to burst.
"I don't give a damn about your money! I came from a well enough family!" She yelled and then spat at him but missed.
"You don't care? Who pays for this house you lie around in all day? Who pays for the fancy school that your son goes to?"
"None of that matters! Robbie is brilliant."
"That doesn't matter if he ends up like you!"
Robbie vowed not to end up like his mum… but it still stands that his dad should have been helping her. Not hurting her. He moved forward to lead his mother away, gripping the side of the door to pull himself into a standing position but the door sudden slammed shut as his father stormed through, attempting to pushing him aside but all he could think of was the rupturing pain in his fingers.
"ROBBIE!" His mother ripped open the door and pulled him close, rocking him before his father pulled him out of her arms and examined his fingers.
"They don't look broken."
"We have to take him to the hospital!"
"They aren't broken!"
"You don't know that!"
"I'm a doctor." She clutched Robbie sobbing and crying until finally he peeled the crying boy out of her arms and took him to the car.
Robbie curled in on himself in the back seat as best he could with the seat belt pulled too tight. The tears stopped after a while and he patiently waited. They arrived at the hospital and his dad led him in. No one said much of anything to him. The nurses and doctors attempted to be friendly but Rowan Chase's icy demeanor scared them off. He realized that maybe that was all his father was could at… dealing with the physical.
At age eleven Robbie Chase sat on his back porch and watched his father pack up his car and leave. His parents were 'trying' separation to see if that would help. His mother, sober for once looked something like the pictures he saw in the old magazines. Hair shiny beautifully pulled back in a French twist and the summer dress that he and Elena bought her for her birthday last year.
He's clutching the book his father use to read him as a child. Lord of the Rings. He used to think that his father loved the sense of adventure that the book spoke of. But in reality there was some idealistic ideas about some war that was before Robbie's time that his father loved about it. For some reason the book had begun to loose interest in him.
His mother wrapped an arm around him and led him inside with the promise of a quiet dinner and that maybe he should invite some friends to stay over tomorrow. Robbie agrees but says nothing more, she'd be disappointed and he didn't want to upset her.
The next day his mother is drunk dialing his father, begging him to come back. Four days later his dad his severed all ties with his mother but continues to try to be as much of a father as he ever was to Robbie.
The last time that Robbie sees his father is just before he finishes secondary school when he is fifteen. They're sitting in a neutral zone a few blocks from school. His father tells him that he'll help Robbie in anyway he can.
Robbie tells him that he wants to be a priest. Rowan clucks his tongue disapprovingly but Robbie decided a long time ago that he didn't want to heal the physical, he wanted to heal the mental the spiritual. He had faith in something beyond his father's medicine and beyond his mother's addiction.
Rowan shakes his head and stands to leave and Robbie promises himself that he'll make his own choices in life from now on.
Robbie is sixteen when his world splinters for the second time. He comes home from seminary and sees his precious mother lying on the floor in her own vomit. It's obvious that she must have started retching quite a long time ago. He bent down beside her and lifted her head only to realize that it's not an alcoholic drink that she was vomiting but her own blood.
It doesn't take long for a diagnosis from the doctor. Cirrhosis of the liver, the steady diet of gin and tonics was killing her. It was a lot for him to stomach. He sat with her day after day, attending seminary school less and less. Until finally he just stopped going. What was the point in curing the mental and the spiritual if the physical killed you faster?
On week three she slipped into a coma. His hands shook as he picked up the phone and called the hospital where his father worked. He never made it through to talk to him.
It had been a year when the doctor had approached him with the idea of ending life support. He'd spent a year meandering around the hospital, talking with her. And reviewing schools around Australia, he even went as far as to ask the opinions of doctors. He made them explain in intricate detail about why they were giving him this option. Elena supported his decision. His father didn't answer yet again.
Roslina Louis had been his Mum's best friend for as long as Robbie could remember. She visited everyday, usually surprisingly sober for her. Robbie told her of his decision and she had raised an uproar. Going so far as to even contact his father. Not that he answered. The doctors assured him that it was his choice.
Roslina took him to court but Robbie just ignored it or at least he tried to. The courts drug everything out into the open about his mother's addiction and why his father left. When it was all over Robbie was thoroughly done with the mental and the spiritual. They were simply tools for others to use against you. He dedicated himself to helping the physical and entered medical school two weeks after his mother was buried.
Dr. Robert Chase stepped onto American shores in New Jersey for his interview at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. He had heard that Dr. Gregory House was practically the anti-Christ of medicine. The thought made Robert smile. He took a taxi and decided that if he had his way, he probably would make this a permanent stay. Maybe he could take up in the ICU if Dr. House didn't hire him.
Dr. Gregory House wasn't exactly what he expected. The bitter face and the searching blue eyes. He looked more like a man then a doctor. At least compared to the impressive mold that Rowan Chase had made.
"So… this is the son of Rowan Chase." He twirled his cane and looked over him bored. "I expected someone… more geekish… maybe a little on the Frankenstein side."
"I take after my mother." He responded and House nodded it off.
"So… why Intensive Care? Why not rheumatology?"
"Didn't care for it."
"And you father's book?"
"What about it? Did you enjoy it?" Robert asked unable to keep the sarcasm out of his tone. "Or are we waiting for my father to call to express his love of nepotism?"
"Actually… he already called." House smirked at him like a victory had been won.
"Oh… then I guess this interview is over." He stood up.
"Sit down." He gestured at the chair.
"I won't take this job due to his influence." Robert almost growled.
"Good… because he didn't want you to have it. He wants you to come work for him."
"Cold chance in hell." Robert rolled his eyes.
"See you on Monday." House stood and strolled out of the room. "Maybe you'll last longer then the others.
It's been so long since Chase was called Robbie or even Robert that it's not surprise that when Rowan Chase decides to enter his life again, that even he refers to him as Dr. Chase. It's also of no surprise that House gets that manic glint in his eyes that signifies that he's found a good puzzle. Chase just wishes that the puzzle had been poor Gabe and not about his father's sudden appearance at Princeton-Plainsboro.
At age twenty-seven Dr. Robert Chase finally realized what he was doing at Princeton-Plainsboro, the thing that would keep him staying. House was a modern day hero that had been broken beyond repair. Mentally and physically. For the first time Chase found a person that he had a hope of saving mentally and though he probably would fail that wasn't the part that mattered. House restored his faith in himself, in God. The physical wasn't always the thing that would kill you faster.