A/N:
ok, so the first part of this chapter is one of my personal little fantasies… sounds kinkier than it really is! '-)
Chapter Four
The turning point in the process of growing up is when you discover the core of strength within you that survives all hurt.
~Max Lerner,
"So, Bobby," House popped the 'b's in the younger man's name, "how are things with the Men in Black these days?" He greeted his former employee in a snide tone, heedless of the startled looks from both Chris Taub and Thirteen, neither of whom had any idea where exactly Chase had been the last year, just that he'd taken a job in the UK after a remarkably quiet break up with Alison Cameron.
Before Chase had entered the glassed in conference room, House, Thirteen and Taub had been discussing Eric Foreman's unexpected absence—or more to the point, House had been discussing it. Taub had been trying to discuss the case. Thirteen was trying not to look surprised by Foreman's absence, although clearly it did come as a complete surprise to her that he wasn't coming in today. Apparently House was right, girlfriends really were the last to find out anything.
The Australian didn't flinch at his former boss's 'Men in Black' comment or the way he'd said his name. He knew both were intended to draw a reaction from him, but he was finding himself incredibly un-intimidated by the older man. After facing the sorts of things he faced day in and day out in Cardiff, House just wasn't frightening any more. It was an incredibly liberating feeling.
Bobby smiled. "Men in Black was just a movie, but if you're asking about my job, work is going great, thanks," he helped himself to a cup of coffee, ignoring Taub and Thirteen's incredulous looks. "You're one short," he observed.
"Foreman decided to take play hooky. Wuss. But hey, since I'm a man down, you feel like jumping in?" House's tone remained glib. "If you're good enough for the British Government…"
"I don't work for the government. And didn't you fire me?" he inquired.
"Yeah, but then you had to go and hook up with somebody who has cooler toys. Do they let you carry a gun?"
"Sometimes," he shrugged, leaning against the counter. He was wearing jeans, a soft cotton shirt, a tie. Red trainers. His usual attire now that he no longer worked in a hospital. He had shaved this morning, but only because he was going go swing by the funeral home later on. Likewise he'd pulled his hair into a short pony tail.
Taub opened his mouth to try and get them back to the subject of the patient—the dying patient—but House was too fast:
"Does it shoot lasers?" he asked their visitor; clearly he was enjoying himself.
The Australian rolled his eyes. "I prefer a Beretta nine millimetre, actually," he answered in an amused sounding tone, wondering if House knew the first thing about guns… then again, nothing would really surprise him. "It's a bit less conspicuous and easier to get through customs. But I don't have anything to make up for, either," he added with a wicked little grin, "so I don't need a bigger gun."
Thirteen nearly blushed. Bobby smirked; if Wendy were there, she would tell him that he had been spending way too much time with their Captain lately. He pulled out a chair but instead of sitting in it properly, he turned it round backwards so that the back was to the table. He swung one leg over the seat and sat, perching his chin on the back of the chair. "What's your case?" he queried.
"Husband with a few weeks to live is getting better while the wife, who was healthy up until a couple days ago, is dying," House told him. "You in?"
"Sure," he swivelled his chair around to have a look at the whiteboard where a list of symptoms for both patients were listed, the husband's in one column, the wife's in the other.
"Of course it's not as interesting as your alien angel dust," House remarked in an offhanded tone, just to see if Chase would react. He didn't. "You have any more of that stuff lying around the ol' MIB HQ?"
"Nope. We had a thing with some giant mushrooms recently, though," he said over his shoulder. "But a vat of batter and a giant deep fat fryer did the trick," he smirked at his former employer in a way that left even House thinking he must be making that up. Which was partly true. They hadn't scared the large, carnivorous alien fungoid off with the threat of being deep-fat fried to death, although Ianto had suggested it at one point, just to be flippant. Or maybe to see Jack smile.
"And I told you, Men in Black is just a movie," Bobby reiterated, taking a sip of his coffee; Ianto's it wasn't. "God, what the Hell is this stuff?" But maybe he was just spoiled.
"So what… MI6?" House wasn't ready to let go of his tangent.
"According to my boss, MI6 are a bunch of amateurs," replied, giving the cup in his hand another disdainful look. "Personally, I wouldn't know, I've never had the pleasure."
"CIA?"
"Definitely amateurs." The CIA had once contracted House to diagnose one of their officers—almost no one at the hospital had believed him, of course.
Bobby made a second attempt to drink his coffee, but it was useless. He set the mug down. He wouldn't even feed that swill to Janet…not that he thought feeding caffeine to a Weevil was necessarily a good idea. Just the same, whatever they ate in the sewers would be preferable to the stuff in his cup.
"You know anything about Area 51?" House persisted.
"Does anybody care about the patient?" Taub wanted to know. Nobody was paying attention.
"I've never been there, honestly," the Australian replied to House's question. "But my best guess is that it's a perfectly ordinary top-secret military research facility." His tone remained nonchalant.
The senior doctor grinned. "Jersey Devil?" he inquired, brows raised.
The other chuckled. "Now you're reaching," but at least it meant House had come to the end of his tangent. There wasn't anywhere else for him to go. "But I could ask Liz. Dr. Elizabeth Shaw, former UNIT science advisor and current head of PROBE, a paranormal research group out of London."
"Impressive," the diagnostician conceded. "You have an answer for everything."
"Not really," Bobby turned his attention back to the whiteboard, looking more closely over the patients' symptoms. "Have you checked the wife for RA?" he inquired. Across the table, Thirteen shifted, drawing his attention away from the board again. He followed her gaze.
Alison Cameron was walking past the conference room.
She stopped dead in her tracks as soon as she saw who was sitting in with House's team. Her jaw slacked open just slightly.
"I… think I need to get some coffee," Taub began awkwardly, accurately assessing the situation. Cameron wasn't expecting to see Chase.
"We have coffee right here," House informed him, as Cameron turned towards the door.
"You heard the man, it's crap," Taub was quicker on the uptake than usual. "Dr Hadly?" he asked in Thirteen's direction.
"Yeah. Coffee sounds great," she got to her feet, gathering up the paperwork in front of her as quickly as she could. It didn't take a genius like House to see that Cameron had had no idea Chase was in town. She had no doubts that it wasn't an oversight on House's part, either; he'd been expecting something like this, probably hoping for it.
Chase got to his feet as his ex girlfriend came in the door; he forced a smile. He'd known he would run into her eventually, he'd just hoped it would be him going to see her, say hello, rather than her finding him first. But we don't always get what we want, he reminded himself, shoving his hands into his pockets. If people did get what they wanted more of the time, there would be fewer aliens on Earth. He also supposed that if he'd called her, stopped in to the Emergency Room first, instead of putting it off, things would be feeling a little less awkward at the moment…
"House," Thirteen stopped at the door. "Are you coming?" it was only barely a question.
"Spoil sports." Begrudgingly, he got to his feet as well. "Hey," he said before heading out, "Don't forget to tell her about your girlfriend. Bobby." He popped the 'b's' again. "Wilson tells me she's quite a looker," he added with raised brows.
Alison waited until House and the others had gone before asking Chase what he was doing in New Jersey.
"You called me, remember?" he answered in an incredulous tone.
"Yeah… to… to tell you about Kutner. I didn't think… you have a girlfriend?"
"You've met her, actually," he told her honestly—no use lying when she'd figure it out for herself as soon as she saw her, anyway. "Wendy Shutten," he explained. It was definitely better to get that detail out of the way as soon as possible.
Alison blinked. "I thought… " she wasn't sure what she thought. At first she'd thought Wendy was with the one guy but then it became incredibly clear that he was really with Jack, their boss, which didn't bother her exactly, except that something about Jack bothered her just a little bit… although really the night she'd met Robert's co-workers was a bit of a blur. The only thing she remembered clearly was him telling her to get on a plane and go back to New Jersey. "Is she the reason you stayed?" she asked him.
"I told you why I stayed, Alison," he took a step towards her, but only a step. "I love my job. Just like you love yours. Wendy and I didn't start seeing each other until... seven or eight months ago, I guess." He shrugged.
It was difficult to tell when exactly they'd gone from being friends with fringe benefits to very good friends with very good fringe benefits to something a little more serious… a lot more serious. It had happened gradually… quickly… it was like waking up one morning and suddenly realizing he was in love with the woman sleeping next to him. Realizing the feeling was mutual. Alison's voice pulled him out of his reverie:
"So it's serious?"
He shrugged. "I suppose."
"You suppose?" She looked startled.
He gave over half a smile. "I love her. She loves me. We've got a place together. Neither of us has any plans to see anybody else," he explained it as simply and painlessly as he could.
"I… I guess that's serious then."
"I guess it is," he agreed.
"You don't sound…"
"My life is complicated, Alison. But I know who I'm in love with." His tone left no room for argument. "More importantly, I know she loves me. I'm not left twisting in the wind, trying to guess my way blindly through a relationship. She tells me exactly where I stand with her. And it's exactly where I want to be standing."
Alison drew in a breath and looked away. "I deserved that," she told him softly.
"I'm sorry…"
"No. No, I deserved it," she repeated, meeting his gaze again. "And I'm sorry I did that to you. You didn't deserve it."
"I'm sure… look, I know your life is complicated too. You did what you thought was best for you in the moment. No one should fault you for that, least of all me," he moved in closer. "We had some really good times, you know."
"Did we?"
"Yeah," he smiled, laying his hands lightly on her arms. "We did." He leant in and brushed his lips against her cheek, conscious of the way she moved in closer, but not reciprocal. He held her lightly, just at arms' length. "I loved you."
"But not any more, huh?"
"I will always care about you, Alison. But I love somebody else. I'm in love with her. It's a good feeling."
"I… I'm happy for you," she told him at last, although her tone betrayed that it was less than the truth.
He gave over a tight lipped smile. "I'm going to go see if the coffee in the cafeteria is any better than this garbage," he nodded at the coffee pot in House's conference room. "Can I buy you a cup?"
"I… I was on my way to see Dr Cronin… new guy," she explained to his questioning look. "But I… I guess… I guess I'll see you around… how long are you in town?"
"Just a couple of days."
She nodded.
He turned to leave.
"Robert… or Bobby?" she asked in an earnest tone.
He turned to face her again. "Either is fine."
"All right. I… I'll see you." She told him. Watching him walk away, she realized that something in him had changed. It was the way he carried himself. He stood taller, she thought. Walked with a purpose. He seems genuinely happy… she took a deep breath and let it out. She walked out of the conference room and continued on her way towards her original destination…
