REWIND...part 11
They asked him questions, the nurses. Chase answered them from the floor because his body refused to obey his commands to get up. He told them Vanessa's name and gave them Dr. Stewart's phone number so they could get her medical history. He signed off on the form for an autopsy, even though he was pretty sure he knew the cause of death. It was an insignificant factor now.
At some point they rolled the gurney with her body out the door and past him and Chase didn't look up from his contemplation of the floor. He didn't want to remember her face lax and pallid and still. The memory of his mother's face in death was still etched in Chase's mind and he had been spared that with Vanessa. It was a stupid comfort but it was all he had to cling to.
"Chase?"
He blinked and looked up to see Wilson crouching down beside him. He didn't have to turn his head to know that House was on his other side, but standing. Chase could feel him there. He looked at Wilson. "I'm not anorexic," he stated, because he needed him and House to know that.
Wilson just reached for him, grabbing his arm and hauling Chase to his feet with far to great an ease. "Let's get you settled in," he said, trying to guide Chase down the hallway.
"Settled?" Chase echoed, trying to dig in his heels. He wasn't sure what that meant, or if he wanted to know.
"We're going to admit you for a few days. Take care of you," Wilson replied in a voice that was soft and meant to be soothing. No doubt the voice he used to deliver bad news to his dying patients.
Chase tried to pull away. "I don't need taking care of!" he snapped. "I have things to do. I have to arrange the funeral and call people." He knew the lawyer would actually do all that stuff. One night Vanessa had told him that she'd had everything taken care of in case she died. That way he wouldn't have to deal with anything. He had ended that conversation abruptly, thinking at the time that they probably wouldn't be together that long. And it hadn't been all that long. Not long enough. She wasn't supposed to die. He was supposed to save her.
Wilson was pulling him along again. "We'll sort everything out," he promised.
"No, we won't." Chase felt like laughing, but he was too hollow inside to make the proper sound. He tried to pull away from Wilson but his knees buckled and he had to put a hand out against the wall to catch himself. "I have to go home," he whispered, only he wasn't sure where that was for him. Not Vanessa's place, because that was too empty. Maybe a hotel room for now. He wanted to be alone where it was quiet, where there weren't so many voices whispering in his head.
"You're not going anywhere but into a room here, Chase," House interjected.
Chase lifted his head to find House standing in front of him. He wasn't glaring and he didn't sound angry. In fact, he looked almost sad and Chase wondered why. He was almost curious enough to ask but suddenly dark spots started dancing before his eyes and everything faded to gray with a rush of noise filling his head. Then everything went black and he was falling into silence.
OoO
House didn't look up as Wilson set a cup of coffee in front of him. They were in his office, the lights off, relying only on the dim light of early morning to see by. Neither one of them had slept much, both crashing on couches. That Wilson had stayed surprised House a little. For all that he'd sent his friend to bond with Chase, he knew the two weren't exactly friends. Or maybe they had moved in that direction over time. Not that it mattered.
"How's Chase doing?" Wilson asked, as he settled into a chair with his own cup of bad coffee.
"Why don't you tell me?" House countered, as he grabbed his coffee and made a face at the smell. Cameron made better coffee and hers usually tasted like tar. He put it back on his desk and settled for popping a Vicodin. "I'm sure you made a pit stop in his room before coming up here."
Wilson didn't deny it. "He's still out, probably the best sleep he's had in a while."
House nodded. "He'll need it. Waking up and facing reality...this particular reality...is going to suck the big one."
"Can't argue with you there," Wilson allowed, as he focused his attention on his coffee. He looked morose.
"Got a phone call while you were gone," House announced. In fact he had hung up just before Wilson had appeared.
Wilson straightened in his chair a bit, curiosity glittering in his eyes. "Who from?"
House grabbed his striped ball and tossed it from hand to hand as he spoke. "From a Dr. Adam Stewart. Seems Vanessa is his patient. He didn't seem all that surprised by her death, actually. But he did ask me to tell Chase that everything will be taken care of. Like the autopsy and such." Not than an autopsy was needed, House thought to himself. He'd learned from the EMT's that had brought Vanessa to the hospital that she'd been lying beside and empty bottle of Vodka. House would have bet a million dollars at that being the cause of her death.
"That will make things easier on Chase," Wilson commented. "Lord knows he's got enough to deal with. Poor kid can't catch a break."
"It's not like he loved her," House interjected, feeling a bit irritated and taking it out on Wilson. Nothing new there and he knew his friend would let it roll off him like water off a duck's back.
Wilson glared at House, but there wasn't much heat behind it. He looked more resigned than anything. "You don't know that," he countered. "Chase asked me about...stuff..." he broke off as if realizing he was about to tell a secret he wasn't supposed to tell.
But House could guess what about. Love. That icky thing that some people truly believed made the world a better place. "Chase was in love with the idea of being in love with Vanessa," he stated, and he saw Wilson give a start of surprise, which meant he'd hit the nail on the head. No fun in it though, not when it was a no brainer.
"Real or imagined, it's going to affect him," Wilson said quietly.
"She did him a favor," House countered sharply, pushing out of his chair and limping over to the window. The sun seemed obscenely bright now, as if mocking him. It sure as hell wasn't helping his headache any. Apparently, neither was the pill he'd taken.
Wilson made a sound of disapproval before protesting. "What? By dying like his mother did? Yeah, that's one hell of a favor! Chase had enough issues he wasn't dealing with. How the hell is he going to handle this?"
House heaved a sigh, scrubbing a hand over his gritty face before turning around to face his friend. "He doesn't have to try and save her anymore," he said quietly. "That's what was destroying him little by little. He knew he couldn't save her but he was damn well going to try, even if it killed him."
"I'd say it probably came close," Wilson interjected. "He didn't handle our intervention very well."
"He will," House stated, and he meant it. Even if he had to kick Chase in the ass until he got with the program. His Aussie Duckling was going to pick up the shattered pieces of himself, put them back together and get back to work. No way in hell was House going to do another interview. He didn't want a replacement. Chase was a puzzle he still hadn't figured out and he wasn't ready to push him from the nest until he had.
Wilson seemed to accept House at his word. After a long moment of a rather awkwardly comfortable silence he queried, "Are you going to tell Cameron and Foreman what happened?"
House shrugged. "They're going to notice Chase is a patient again and I don't think he's going to be able to hide the fact he's broken. Foreman's already figured out he's lost too much weight."
"Maybe they can help Chase deal with what's happened," Wilson suggested.
"They're not exactly friends," House reminded him. Not that friendship was a requirement. He knew that his ducklings felt a certain protectiveness towards each other, even if they didn't realize it existed. And sometimes it was easier to accept help from people you didn't consider friends. No messy emotional ties that way. And if House knew anything about Chase, it was that the Aussie doctor didn't like to deal with anything even remotely emotional. He had more defense and deflect mechanisms than House did. And that was saying something, because he knew his own arsenal was pretty damn impressive.
Wilson pushed out of his own chair and headed for the door. "I'll go tell Cuddy, you tell your underlings."
It was a fair enough deal, but one House had every intention of reneging on, so he said nothing. He simply watched him go.
OoO
It wasn't that much of a surprise to Wilson that House left it up to him to tell Cameron and Foreman about Chase. He decided to call them into his own office to break the news. They would have more privacy there than in the conference room, or House's glass-walled office.
"Have a seat," he invited, gesturing to the chairs opposite his desk.
"What's going on?" Cameron asked, even as she took a seat.
Foreman had a few questions of his own as he sat down beside her. "Where's House? And why isn't Chase here?"
Wilson sighed, wishing he could have just taped an explanation and left it for them to listen to. "I called you in here to talk about Chase," he began. "As for House, your guess is as good as mine." Although he expected his friend was with Chase at the moment. Either that or he was riding around town on his bike, or maybe home with his favorite hooker. Wilson had long ago learned not to even try to second guess House.
"What happened to Chase?" Cameron prompted, and her eyes were big and dark with anxiety.
"That's not an easy question to answer," Wilson replied. To be honest, he wasn't sure where to begin. He took a moment to make a choice, then began. "Vanessa died last night." He watched Foreman and Cameron as he spoke and he couldn't miss their shocked reactions.
Cameron covered her mouth with both hands, eyes going wide with shock.
Foreman's reaction was more subtle and he recovered immediately to ask, "How did she die?"
"Basically...she drank herself to death." Wilson knew that wouldn't have the impact to them that it did to him and House. He knew Chase had never told his colleagues about his mother. He wondered if they even knew that both of Chase's parents were dead. He was pretty sure they didn't know about Rowan Chase either.
"Where's Chase?" Cameron asked, seemingly having pulled herself together, but she still looked a bit pale and shaky.
Wilson sighed then delivered the rest of the bad news. "He's here as a patient, which is something we need to discuss."
Cameron was on her feet, looking like she was going to rush out the door. Maybe to see Chase. But then she stiffened and took a step closer to Wilson's desk. "Why is he a patient? He didn't do something...I mean...he didn't..."
"She's trying to ask if he tried to off himself or something," Foreman coldly interjected, and he got an icy glare from Cameron for his trouble.
"No, not directly," Wilson replied, because he had decided to be completely candid with them about Chase's condition. The Aussie could keep his personal life private if he liked, but his health issues were going to be open to the public, so to speak. And since Chase had no one but himself to blame for his current situation, Wilson didn't feel even a lick of guilt for what he was about to say. "I don't suppose it'll be all that much of surprise, at least not to you, Foreman," Wilson began. "But House and I confronted Chase last night and House has diagnosed him as anorexic. Mind you, it's borderline right now which means we've caught it in plenty of time to turn things around."
Foreman snorted in disbelief. "Borderline my ass. Or should I say Chase's skinny white ass?"
It was Cameron who responded, whirling on Foreman. "If you knew what was happening, why didn't you say something? Or better yet, why didn't you do something?"
"I'm not saying I knew about it," Foreman countered, shaking his head at her as if he couldn't believe she was mad at him. "Chase and I aren't exactly buddies so I wasn't paying all that close attention to him. He's been doing his job and walking around acting like he usually does. Maybe I should have noticed something was off, but I didn't." It was his turn to glare at Cameron. "Why didn't you notice something? Since you're in the mood to fling blame at someone."
"I should have noticed," Cameron allowed, sinking back into her chair and looking morose.
Wilson didn't have the patience for their guilt trips or petty arguments. "Chase deflects attention from himself any way he can. He's in a class of his own when it comes to throwing out diversionary tactics. This isn't about blaming ourselves or each other. All that matters now is that we do what we can to fix him."
Foreman looked skeptical. "What if he doesn't want to be fixed?"
"House isn't going to let that be an option," Wilson countered. Which was a simple fact they all knew.
"Good point," Foreman conceded. "He's probably going to harass Chase into getting better."
Cameron looked tearful as she spoke up, "How's he handling Vanessa's death?"
Wilson wasn't sure how to answer that, so he went with the truth. "I don't know. He collapsed and we've got him lightly sedated and hooked up to an IV for fluids and nutrients. He's in rough shape physically so it's going to hamper his emotional stability. Until he wakes up I can't say how he's going to handle things."
"Probably with the same detachment he always does," Foreman replied.
"Or by trying to drown himself in alcohol," Cameron interjected, sounding horrified. "He tried that before and nearly died."
Wilson knew that Cameron was fixated on the thought that Chase might be suicidal, but he didn't think that was a concern. Chase's actions to date had been a cry for help, albeit one he doubted the Aussie was aware he was broadcasting. Chase had tried to cocoon himself in his need for privacy, but it was unraveling around him and he was going to have to deal with being exposed to his colleagues, and deal with the fact that he was going to need help to get better. "I don't think Chase wants to die," Wilson said softly. "In a way he has been punishing himself, but I think it's more out of guilt. I think what he's doing is his version of penance."
Foreman looked confused. "Penance for what? I know Kayla died, but he needs to get past that. He made a mistake that any one of us could have made, and given that all he got for it was a suspension...he obviously had one hell of a good excuse."
"It's going to be up to Chase to face whatever his personal demons might be," Wilson countered, his tone a bit sharp. Knowing what Chase's excuse was for his mistake regarding Kayla, and keeping it a secret, was a surprisingly difficult burden to bear at this moment. But that wasn't what he had to deal with right now, Wilson reminded himself. He eyed both Foreman and Cameron, leaning forward over his desk in an attempt to convey how serious the matter at hand was. "What I need to know from the two of you right now is whether or not you want to be a part of helping Chase get better."
"In what way?" Foreman asked.
Wilson was prepared for that question. "Chase is going to need a support group. The thing is, if you do want to help then you're going to have to stick with it and follow through until the end. The last thing Chase needs right now is people backing out on him."
Cameron looked grim but determined as she countered with, "What do you need us to do?"
OoO
He came back to awareness in staggered increments. He was aware of familiar noises that offered an uneasy comfort and allowed him to drift back into warm darkness. But the darkness shaded to gray and he felt an ache in his head and a vague sense of nausea that ended up pulling him fully into consciousness. He opened his eyes and was greeted with a brightness that made him wince. It took a moment of blinking hard to bring his surroundings into focus. He was in a hospital room. The same private room he had been in last time.
He felt sore and achy and his mouth was dry. Chase shifted about, trying to get more comfortable as he took in his present position. He remembered everything that had happened. Finding Vanessa, the ride to the hospital, the time of her death. The sound of the doctor's voice making the call echoed in his head. He waited to feel grief or guilt or pain. To feel something. But he felt eerily detached from it all. Detached, tired, and uncertain of what to do next.
Lifting a hand to push back the hair that was falling in his eyes, Chase felt a painful tug on his skin and was surprised to see an IV attached. He turned his head and looked up to the bags on the hook behind him and he recognized that he was being given fluids and nutrients. Which reminded him of his conversation with House in his office. He didn't have a problem and he wasn't anorexic, but Chase knew that House wasn't going to let the matter drop. Which was why he intended to be long gone from here before his boss showed up.
But even as he made a move towards yanking the covers back, a nurse appeared beside him, her friendly face etched with concern.
"How are you feeling, Dr. Chase?" she queried.
"I'm fine," Chase replied. Or rather, croaked. He coughed a bit against the dryness in his throat and was grateful when she offered him a cup of water. He took a few sips then handed it back. "I'd like to sign out now, Amy." Chase vaguely remembered her from his rounds at the hospital, but he got her name off the tag pinned to her smock.
She shook her head. "Dr. House left orders for you to stay put until he talked to you. I've already paged him so he should be on his way."
Chase resisted the urge to groan at the information. He ended up being distracted by the fact that, after checking his IV, Amy settled herself in a nearby chair and picked up a magazine already opened to a page. "Have you been sitting with me?" he asked, unable to hide his surprise at the thought.
"Dr. House requested that someone be with you at all times," Amy replied. "Is that a problem?"
"No." Chase smiled as he lied, but it was a problem. Because he couldn't help but wonder why House thought he needed watching. It didn't make him angry like he thought it would. He didn't feel anything beyond the throbbing pain in his temples and a sense of indifference. Shifting onto his side, Chase closed his eyes. He wished he could simply will himself out of here. But his wishes were in vain and all too soon he heard a familiar step-thump and when he turned back it was to see House striding into the room.
Waving a hand at Amy, House said to her, "You can go," in a tone that was dismissive and bordering on rude.
She gave him a look of annoyance that he ignored, then she smiled at Chase and waved before exiting the room.
House made his way to Chase's bedside, a grim expression on his face. "We need to talk."
"Can't think about what," Chase responded, without hesitation. They weren't friends, House wasn't his doctor or his keeper, so there was nothing to discuss other than how soon he was going to release him. A point he figured was worth mentioning. "I'd like to leave now, so if you could sign me out I'd appreciate it."
"That's very funny." However, House didn't sound amused as he grabbed the chair Amy had vacated, pulled it over and sat down. He held his cane between his legs as he locked his gaze on Chase. Then he announced, "I'm here to discuss the rules."
Chase shifted around to face him, frowning a bit as he did so. "What rules?" He had to ask even though he knew he wasn't going to like the answer.
House almost smiled. "The House rules on how to feed and nurture an idiot Aussie back to health."
"I don't need your stupid rules," Chase replied, and there was no anger in his tone. Maybe he just lacked the energy to get pissed off. Locking eyes with House he stated, "I have arrangements to make for Vanessa's funeral and...other things." Personal things that weren't House's business. All the man had to do was sign the release form and Chase would be out of here. Only he knew House wasn't going to make it that easy.
"Dr. Stewart and Vanessa's lawyers have arranged everything while you were napping," House replied, and he was watching Chase intently as he spoke, as if waiting for some reaction of sorts. When Chase didn't respond he continued. "The funeral is in two days. If you behave yourself and do as you're told, I might let you go to it."
Chase closed his eyes and whispered, "You can't control my life." Although House was just one more person in a long line of people who had done exactly that his entire life.
House stared at Chase for a long moment, making him have to resist the urge to squirm beneath his intense regard, then he was leaning back in his chair before rattling off a list of conditions. So to speak. "You're going back into therapy, don't even think about arguing the point. You don't get a choice."
"When do I ever?" Chase muttered beneath his breath, but from the look on House's face, he'd heard him. Chase didn't care.
"You're also going to have food buddies," House continued. "Oh...and you'll probably end up sitting in on a few group sessions for Anorexia. That will be up for the head doc to decide though. She might figure you don't play well with others."
Chase stared at House in disbelief. "Food buddies?" he echoed, not at all certain what that meant.
House nodded. "Cameron, Foreman, Cuddy and Wilson. When you're here one of them will eat with you to check your input. And you will have weekly weigh ins. Bi-weekly if necessary, to make sure you're not cheating."
"I'm not anorexic," Chase repeated, getting tired of hearing himself say it already. "And I'm not doing those things."
"Then you're quitting your job?" House asked.
Chase blinked at him. "Quitting? No. Why would you think that?"
House stood up, moving closer to Chase and almost looming over him. "Because if you don't follow the rules you don't get to come back to work here. And if that's the case you might as well quit now."
"You can't do that!" Chase felt a flutter of fear and panic, and he almost welcomed it. It was better than the dead and empty feeling from before.
"Sure I can. I can do this too." As House spoke he leaned in a bit more then stated, "You're fired."
Chase shook his head, feeling sudden nausea coiling through his stomach. This moment felt surreal, yet he could see by the look in House's eyes that he meant what he said. "Don't fire me," Chase whispered.
House pulled back, easing himself down into the chair again. "I won't if you do as you're told and obey the rules."
"I'm not sick," Chase whispered, like a plea. Only it fell on deaf ears and he knew it.
"That you say that and actually believe it is proof of what a mess you really are," House replied, and it wasn't said unkindly. "You'll be here for a couple of days to rehydrate and get some rest, then you can go home. But I expect you back to work after the funeral. You don't need to be lollygagging around home, wallowing in guilt."
Chase doubted he would wallow in anything, since he couldn't seem to conjure up anything but fear and nausea. "You're going to trust me at home?" He had to ask because given all the other rules House had spouted at him, it seemed unlikely he would be allowed home without a keeper.
House grinned at him. "Wilson will be staying with you nights and weekends. It's the perfect arrangement all around, really. I get my couch back, Wilson gets a place to park his stuff, and you have someone to keep an eye on you."
"I don't need a baby sitter." Nor did he want one. He wanted to be left alone, but when did he ever get what he wanted.
"It's your choice, Chase," House replied. "You do what you have to do to get better...or you quit. What's it going to be?"
He knew it wasn't much of a choice, but maybe he could pretend he had some control over something in his life. "I'm not quitting," he whispered.
House looked pleased. "Glad to hear it, because I really hate conducting interviews."
"You made Cuddy interview Foreman," Chase reminded him.
"Good point," House allowed, then he was rising to his feet as a nurse entered the room with a tray. He pulled back the chair and watched as she put the tray on the tray table, then rolled it over Chase's lap. "Lunch is served," House announced, almost gleefully.
Chase didn't have his watch on but he was pretty sure it was still morning. Not that it mattered either way. He wasn't hungry. He made a face at the toast and juice on the plate, then made to push the table away. But House stopped him.
Eyes locked on Chase's, House ordered, "You eat every bite of toast and drink every drop of juice or the deal's off."
"I'm not hungry." Chase didn't snap back, he just spoke softly and he could see that House was getting more irritated by the minute.
"Eat!" House demanded.
Anger flared a bit and Chase mustered up a glare for House. "No!" he shot back, one hand going for the tray.
But House was on to him. "Knock that on the floor and I'll put you in restraints and force feed you. Then I'll shove a feeding tube up your nose."
"Bastard!" Chase hissed, because he knew House meant it. He would do that to him in a heartbeat. Anything to make Chase just that much more miserable. He thought about knocking the tray off anyway, just because it would surprise House if he did, but Chase didn't have the energy it would take to deal with the fallout of his actions, so he simply reached for a piece of toast and took a bite.
"Good boy," House said approvingly, moving to sit again, this time in the corner where he'd left the chair.
Swallowing the bite down wasn't easy and Chase felt like gagging. He had to sip some juice to make it go all the way down but his stomach wasn't happy about it. Still, he forced himself to take another bite under House's watchful gaze, but that meant more juice. Bite three defeated him and Chase started to gag in earnest.
House grabbed an emesis basin and shoved it under his chin. "Guess we ixnay the toast for now. We'll start with liquids in an hour or so."
"Fine," Chase whispered, after getting his gag reflex under control. Bile burned in his throat but slid back down and he took a sip of juice to ease raw feeling and get rid of the taste of it. He put the glass down then pushed the tray away and let himself fall back into the pillows. "Will you leave me alone now?" It was a plea and he didn't care.
"You can't be trusted to be alone," House replied, a grim expression on his face.
Chase sighed and curled up on his side. "Like you care what happens to me," he mumbled. He was tired to the bone and his eyes were drifting closed.
House didn't reply to that, instead he stated, "Behave or you'll regret it." Then he turned and limped out of the room.
Chase listened to the silence when he was gone.
OoO
He dozed in fitful stretches. The first time he woke up, Amy was there again and she helped him out of bed and into the bathroom. Chase relieved himself then washed his hands and splashed water on his face. He avoided his reflection, not wanting to see a reflection of the man he had become. He knew he had yet to be the man he wanted to be and he had no one to blame for that, but himself.
"Chase?"
He recognized Cameron's voice and wished he could hide in the bathroom indefinitely. He liked her and considered them to be friends of a sort, but he wasn't in the mood for her particular brand of sympathy. It felt too much like pity from where Chase was standing. But he knew he couldn't hide so he opened the door and she was standing right there, waiting to help him back to bed. It was easier to let her than to argue with her.
Cameron fussed with the covers once Chase was settled back in bed, then her hands went still and she looked up to meet his eyes. "I'm so sorry about Vanessa."
"Me too," Chase replied, dropping his gaze to the blankets. He plucked at one end that was fraying, willing Cameron to take the hint and leave.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she offered. And she went so far as to take hold of his other hand and squeeze it.
He knew she was trying to offer him comfort, but Chase didn't want it. He didn't need it. He wasn't grieving the way he should have been. Maybe he had used up all his grief with his mum and dad. "I'd rather not, but thanks," he replied.
Cameron squeezed his hand again, then released it. She then started checking his IV's, as if needing something to do as a distraction. "So...how are you feeling?"
"I'm fine." Chase abhorred small talk and he wished he had it in him to just tell her to leave. But he couldn't, simply because she wasn't trying to interfere in his life or learn something about him that wasn't any of her business, like she had when his dad had come to visit. All she was doing was being kind. He couldn't fault her for that.
"Um...did House tell you that I'm one of your food buddies?" She was obviously uncomfortable, but she kept plugging away at the small talk.
Chase nodded. "Yeah, he told me. Why are you?" He really was curious to know. Why would she bother?
Cameron looked surprised by the question, but replied readily enough. "Because I want to help you."
"Why?" Chase prompted. "We're not exactly good friends."
"We're not enemies," she pointed out, smiling as she did so.
Chase felt himself almost smiling back. "I guess," he allowed.
Cameron sighed and reached out to squeeze his arm this time. "I'd like to think that if things were reversed, you'd want to help me."
"Maybe I should," Chase countered, feeling anger stirring up again and it was almost pathetic of him to be glad to feel something. "You're the one who's anorexic," he continued. "I'm not!"
"I usually get accused of being bulimic," Cameron shot back, and there was a bit of anger flashing in her eyes. But she quelled it and softened her tone as she continued. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Chase. In fact, it's understandable even."
Chase pulled his arm away, letting his head fall back against the pillow so he wouldn't have to see the sincerity shining in her eyes. "I'm not anorexic," he whispered. "I eat."
Cameron was quiet a moment and he thought maybe she'd just go away, but no such luck. After a moment she said, "I think that you're borderline, Chase. We caught it in time to help you reverse it easily enough. It's a control issue and I think you can lick the physical aspects of it with a bit of help, then you can focus on what caused it in the first place."
"Been sneaking in psych rotations when no one was looking?" Chase taunted, and he still wasn't looking at her. Not until he felt her fingertips brush his cheek. Then he looked at her and saw sincerity in her eyes, not pity. It made his own eyes burn and he closed them tight. He hadn't cried for Vanessa, he hadn't cried for his dad. He hadn't cried since his mum died and even then it had taken six weeks for the tears to come. He'd be damned if he'd cry now. There was nothing to cry about. Nothing had changed. Just like always he ended up alone. That was his life.
"Sometimes I think you are your own worst enemy," Cameron said softly.
He pulled away from her touch and said a bit sharply, "Not your problem!"
Cameron didn't turn away at that. "I'm not walking away from you, Chase." It sounded like she was making a promise.
"You think I'm broken!" he countered, still not looking at her. "That's why you're here. But I'm not broken. I don't need fixing!" He was getting angry again and anger was better than tears.
"Everyone needs fixing, Chase." Cameron patted his shoulder then there was a scuffling sound as she turned away before heading for the door. "I'll be back to visit later," she called over her shoulder.
Chase listened to her footsteps fade away, curling himself up tighter into a ball, his eyes squeezed shut. He wondered why her promise sounded more like a threat than comfort. Then he wondered why he cared at all.
THE END...of part 11