A/N: Still don't own House.

Okay! Here's the next bit. I feel like it's not as good as the last chapter, but I promised myself I'd update within a week, so here it is. And I've already started writing the next part. I can't help it! It's addictive. (So much better than studying for midterms).

And thanks for all the reviews! Let me know what you think :)

Chapter 2

Chase ran a hand through his silky, blonde hair and leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee. "So, what'd you want to know, House?"

"What do you think I want to know?" House replied calmly, his feet propped back up on the desk corner.

Chase just looked on, tired and bewildered, as House slurped his coffee.

"Do you have any idea how difficult it was to even get your file? I mean seriously, you'd think it was some kind of secret military experiment." House snickered to himself, "Nah, obviously the government isn't going to spend all their money on wombats. Not ferocious enough."

"I'm sure obtaining my private medical records was a huge strain for you. But don't think that simply because-"

"They were suspiciously empty." House interrupted, drumming his fingers on his desk. He glanced down at the carpet; the white sheets of Chase's history still lay scattered and crumpled on the floor.

"What do you want me to say? It's pretty self-explanatory. Dad was a successful doctor. He didn't want anyone nosing 'round in our family business. And for good reason…" Chase shrugged, his accent still thicker than normal.

"And what business would that be?" House gasped, feigning astonishment. "Australian mob?"

"Good guess."

"Come on" House leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and folding his hands. "I can keep a secret."

"Am I supposed to be like that rape-victim girl? I tell you a tragic story and you get to tell me everything is going to be okay?" Chase asked bitterly.

"Well, with your fair complexion and golden locks, I wouldn't be surprised if Daddy couldn't control himself." House smirked. "But no. This isn't the same."

"House…"

"Unless Daddy really-"House raised his eyebrows in taunting, fake shock.

"No. Honestly, House, you'd think-"

"Fine" House fixed his gaze on the young doctor sitting in front of him and sighed, kneading his thigh. "My father used to make me take baths in a tub of ice to punish me, but that doesn't mean I freak out whenever I see someone holding a pitcher of ice cubes."

Chase was momentarily shocked into silence by House's admission. Sure, they'd all joked about House's childhood, but he hadn't expected this. He and House actually had something in common, and judging by the frustrated expression on House's face, he wasn't pleased that he'd had to reveal something personal. Chase blinked, speaking slowly, "I don't freak out…"

"Oh, yeah?" House raised his eyebrows, "Would you like an encore of what just happened?"

Chase looked away for a second, watching through the window as snowflakes fell in silence, blanketing everything in a cover of sparkling white. His blonde hair had fallen to the front, almost entirely shading his eyes with golden fringe, "You already know…" He almost whispered, his voice suddenly sounding a little hoarse.

"I know that Mommy drank herself to death and Daddy didn't care." House frowned and bored his eyes into Chase. "Anything else you wanna share?"

"Oh yeah, you really know how to get someone to open up." Chase shook his head, but didn't make any move to leave. He looked down, picking at the fraying bits of thread on his jeans.

"Chase." House pinched the bridge of his nose and growled softly, "Just-"

"Do you think it's worse that he was sober?" Chase said abruptly, looking back up and locking his own ocean blue eyes with House's.

"Sobe-"

"Whenever my mum lost it, I always knew that it was the alcohol that was making her do it. Even when she hit me, or locked me in Dad's study, or when she forgot me, I knew it was because she was drunk." Chase held House's gaze, willing himself not to flinch.

"Aaaand it didn't piss you off?" House asked, "I mean-"

"Of course it pissed me off." Chase interjected, "I was angry that she couldn't take care of herself, or us for that matter, but I was more pissed at my dad for dumping her on me once he'd had enough."

"But it was different with your father."

"Yeah" Chase cracked his knuckles and anxiously wiped his palms off on his knees, watching House carefully, trying to judge what his boss was thinking. No such luck. House's features were schooled, his expression one of practiced nonchalance. "With my dad, he always knew exactly what he was doing. Sometimes he just knocked me around, sometimes he used his belt. He had one with the buckle already off, you know, no scars or anything someone could've reported. Not that anyone would have, not with him."

Chase paused again and licked his lips, his mouth and throat drying up. House just sat, silent and immobile, so Chase kept going, figuring House hadn't found the answer he was waiting for yet. "It was tough to tell what would set him off. But once he'd snapped, that was it."

"Why?" House uttered the single word so quietly, Chase almost didn't hear it.

"Hell if I know." Chase snorted, laughing softly. "Most of the time, I deserved it. Maybe I'd screwed up at school, got in a fight, or maybe I was talking back. Once, he caught me with a girl. It wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't already expressly told me to stay away from her and her family. He didn't approve. It took a couple weeks before I could put on a t-shirt without feeling as if my back was on fire."

House forced himself not to look away as he struggled against his imagination, picturing a young Chase's toned back marred by angry welts and dripping blood. Of course he would have gotten in trouble because of a girl. House smirked to himself; it was like Chase's hair was magnetized.

"Do you remember when you caught Cameron and me in the janitor closet? I backed right into a shelf full of toilet cleaner and garbage bags, I felt like it was happening all over again. For a second there, I really had no idea what you were going to do to me." Chase shook his head as House's smirk faded, recalling how triumphant he'd felt when he interrupted them. "Other times he'd have lost a patient or had a rough day, and he needed to pound off some stress. I just happened to be there. Conveniently for him."

House frowned, rubbing his leg more vigorously, trying in vain not to think about all the times he'd taken out his pain or anger on the team. This was different, he told himself, and yet he couldn't quite believe it.

Chase grimaced, "Is your leg –"

"My leg is fine." House growled, "Keep going."

Chase couldn't help but wince at House's tone of voice. "But-"

"I command you to speak, oh faithful servant." House trilled in a rather good British accent, making Chase break into a small smile.

"Yeah, okay. You want to know why you make me flinch, why I follow your orders? Why I'm the one that usually goes for your psychotic plans?" Chase's smile faded, "Why does it have to be because of my past? Maybe I just happen to respect you and agree with you."

House just stared back at Chase. "I don't want you to agree with me just because I'm standing over you, or because you think, for some absurd reason, that I'm going to hit you, ooh say, with my cane. I need it to be your opinion, not a survival mechanism."

"You've hit me before" Chase pointed out calmly.

"Not with my cane"

"Yeah, you punched me." Chase rolled his eyes

"And you punched me." House retorted, mimicking Chase's face.

"Whatever. House-"

"And if I hit you again…?" House's voice dropped.

Chase's head snapped up in surprise, as House continued speaking quietly. "If I'm in withdrawal, if one of you kids starts to seriously piss me off… who knows what'll happen. I'm not making any promises."

"I don't want your promises." Chase narrowed his eyes.

"Good, cause I don't keep them." House shook his head, "I can't say I won't, but I don't want to hurt you. Provoke? Yes. Torment a little? Hell yes. But, hurt? No. I want to protect you. I am trying to protect you." He looked up and stared Chase down, his eyes a pale, icy blue.

"Protect me?" Chase laughed and stood up, starting to pace back and forth in front of House's desk, his shoes twisting the sheets of paper covering the floor. "By stealing my records and then interrogating me?"

"Yeah" House raised his voice, a strong feeling welling up inside his chest, one that he had no idea how to categorize. "There's no way you'd tell me anything otherwise."

"And why on Earth would you ever think that?" Chase retorted sarcastically, his pacing speeding up.

House hauled himself out of his chair and limped around to the front of the desk. He leaned back, toying with his wooden cane as he watched Chase pace back and forth, back and forth. Maybe this hadn't been the best way, but there was no way House was going to give up now.

"Hey. Chase, hey. Stop it." House squashed a sudden, incomprehensible urge to just grab Chase and find some way to make sure everything was okay. "I said…Stop!" He jerked his arm forward, sticking his cane directly between Chase's ankles as he turned to keep walking.

Chase gave a startled yelp as he tumbled to the floor and rolled until his shoulder hit the bookcase. House hobbled over surprisingly quickly and poked Chase's ribs with the end of his cane. Hard. "What the hell was that for, House?" Chase propped himself up on his elbows and stared up at House.

"You wouldn't stop." House said petulantly and jerked his cane towards Chase again. Chase winced and closed his eyes, waiting for impact that never came. "Come on", House groaned and rolled his head back. "You still think I'm going to beat you up?"

"Well…" Chase said pointedly, still lying on the floor, the dark carpet rough against his elbows.

"Get up." House sighed and hobbled back to the desk. "And sit." Chase stood up, his eyes glued to House's cane; just in case he got any more ideas about tripping him. But just as he stepped towards his chair, House promptly sat down in it. "Hah." House said smugly. "Stole your chair."

Chase smiled despite himself and mumbled, "Whatever…" He sank into the comfy chair next to the bookcase and looked searchingly at House. "You know House… You're different somehow…"

"Different?" House's expression was unreadable, his mouth a straight line and his eyebrows only slightly raised.

"Yeah" Chase folded his hands, still damp with perspiration, and picked at the skin around his nails. He spoke slowly, as if he wasn't certain about anything he was saying. "Different. From what I expected. From my father."

House froze, for once he didn't have a quip ready to fire back. That feeling from before was surging inside him again, threatening to choke him. He just looked at the kid sitting in front of him, young and vulnerable. What the hell is this feeling? A strangled noise bubbled from the back of his throat as a single thought went fleetingly through his mind, Is this how it feels to watch your kid suffer?

A/N: Okay. There it is. Idk if that last line was too much? Aargh. Now that I know people have actually read this, I am infinitely more nervous. Kk I'll update in the next couple weeks probably.