TITLE: Chapter 15 Trial and Error
AUTHOR: new_raven
PAIRING: House/Chris
RATING: R-ish
WARNINGS: None
SUMMARY: House steals Chris's mail.
DISCLAIMER: House and his pretty friends don't belong to me.
House turned the key in the small metal door and frowned when he saw the mass of flyers and envelopes stuffed inside. He only checked the box a few times a week, but it was never this full. He pulled the contents out in one thick bundle and reviewed them as he walked to the apartment.
Besides his usual bills, junk, and periodical there were a few bills, something from Health and Human services, and a very large very full white envelope addressed to Chris Ramirez. House set them all on the table just inside the door and inspected the heavy package. The return address read "Peace Corps" and was in New York.
House tore open the top and pulled out a handful of pamphlets about how to prepare for you Peace Corps assignments and the many benefits of signing up. There was an optimistic form letter with instructions for a phone interview and orientation schedules. A bright yellow card explained that they had lost many experienced volunteers in a series of mudslides in Asia. They were fast tracking the application and training process to help meet the need created by these natural disasters. Volunteers were needed now more than ever, blah blah blah.
He was stuffing everything back into the package when his phone rang. It was Chris.
"What are you wearing?" He greeted her.
"A thin layer of bacon grease and crusty pancake syrup." He could bustle of the diner in the background.
"That's one way to save on lube."
"Do you want something from the diner? I can grab a pizza on the way."
"Now I just want bacon and pancake syrup."
"Pizza then?"
"Yeah that works."
"Ok."
The line went dead. House looked at the envelope in his hand and then around the room. He didn't really hide it, so much as burry it in plain sight. She couldn't miss it lying face down under a stack of his own neglected mail. It wasn't his fault if she never bothered to read it.
He sat down with a couple fingers of scotch and watched a monster truck rally. Chris came in and dropped a pizza box and paper sack from the diner on the coffee table. She leaned over to kiss his cheek without blocking the screen.
"Scotch? Bad day?"
"Chase got a bad haircut. I'm beside myself with grief."
She laughed. "I'm going to try and scrub the diner smell out of my soul. There are extra onion rings in the bag."
After her shower she wrapped herself in a towel and flopped next to him on the couch. House focused on the TV as Chris pulled two exceptionally light Styrofoam boxes out of the greasy paper bag. She opened the first and found three onion rings. She didn't even bother with the other one.
"Are you serious? I've been on my feet since six in the morning and you ate my dinner?" She tossed an onion ring at his head.
"I told you not to drive the car standing up." He picked the onion ring of the couch and took a bite.
"I called you. There's a whole friggin pizza."
"The burger didn't sound good until you brought it home."
"I would have split it with you."
"If it makes you feel better, the bacon was a little overdone."
"I know. That's how I like it." She hissed through clenched teeth. "What am I supposed to eat now?"
"There's pizza."
She growled and stormed out of the room. A few minutes later she returned fully clothed and holding his wallet. She made sure he was watching as she pulled out a twenty dollar bill and then threw the wallet on top of the untouched pizza box.
"You're not getting change." She said as she walked to the door.
"Where are you going?"
"To get another burger."
"Wow, that's determination. Are you pregnant?" He just couldn't resist.
She shot him a look that might have actually killed a lesser man and slammed the door behind her.
As her mother's trial neared Chris met with the lawyers more and more often. They seemed to think they had a strong case for the insanity defense, especially after her mother was deemed unfit to even attend the trial. Chris was able to convince Rachel and her family not to come, but House had to be there to testify and Wilson insisted on being there in case House needed him to post bail.
House was called first. The Thompson's lawyer made his testimony seem completely irrelevant by pointing out that he was sleeping with the defendant's daughter and would probably say anything at all. Chris found this highly annoying, especially since nothing in House's statement was being debated. One of the officers that had been on the scene also testified and confirmed most of what House said.
Chris's heart raced as they called her to the stand. Chris wore the blue knee length dress from the awards dinner with a gray cardigan buttoned at the neck. Her hair was clipped back as usual and she didn't wear any makeup. She swore to tell the truth and wondered when they had stopped using bibles.
Her mother's lawyer asked all the questions they had discussed and Chris gave all the answers they had discussed. They established her mother's history of mental illness and lightly touched on the tragic loss of her youngest child without going into any details. She thought it went pretty well and was even beginning to relax by the time he was finished. Then it was time for the Thompson's lawyer to cross examine her, and her heart was in her throat again.
"What was your relationship to Tommy Thompson?" The lawyer asked. He was well groomed. His suit was more expensive and tailored better than her mother's lawyer's.
"We went to school together."
"You mean Plainsboro High School?"
"Yes."
"You've stated that you are twenty one now. Why were you attending a public high school?"
"I missed a few semesters after what happened to my sister. I graduated last semester. I'm in college now."
"You left school after your sister died?"
"No."
"You just said that..."
"She… we were attacked. We both missed a lot of school."
"Can you tell me the nature of these attacks?"
"We were raped."
"In 2005?"
"Yes."
"And you claim to have been raped by Tommy Thompson."
"No. I he never raped me. He drugged me."
"He drugged you?"
"Yes."
"Were you at school when he allegedly drugged you?"
"No."
"So you were more than just classmates. You knew each other socially."
"No. I went to his house to find out what he had poisoned Rachel with. She was dying."
He didn't seem to like where this line of questioning was leading him and switched tracks. "When were you treated for mental illness?"
"2006"
"Was that treatment was successful?"
"Yes."
"Did your mother receive the same treatment?"
"No. She was never hospitalized, only medicated."
"But your mother is mentally ill?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you get her treatment?"
"She's on medication. I didn't think they could do anything more to help her."
"They helped you."
"It was worse for her. She lost a child."
"Didn't you lose a child?"
"I put a baby up for adoption. It's not the same as having your twelve year old bleed to death!"
"You maintain that your mother has been mentally incompetent since your sister's death."
"Yes. After I got out of treatment she was never the same. It seemed like really bad anxiety and depression at first, but never got better."
"When was the last time your mother was herself?"
"I don't know. It's been so long."
"What was happening? How did you know she was lucid the last time that she was lucid?"
"It was after they delivered my baby. It was the only time we ever talked about Sarah being gone."
"What did she say?"
Chris stared at him for what felt like a very long time, until he repeated the question. "She said it was my fault, that it should have been me, and it was all my fault. That is the last sane thing my mother said to me."
The room was still and silent. Chris stared numbly at the wooden banister in front of her, but she knew she's won the case. The lawyer paused to regroup and started aiming his questions to show Chris responsibility for her mother's action. When, instead of defending herself, Chris agreed whole heartedly and said that she never should have left her mother alone he knew his case was lost.
When he finally let her off the stand the judge called a short recess. Chris barely waited for the gavel to hit the bench before running out of the courtroom. She should have taken the time to make sure House was still sitting in the stands. Instead she almost ran into him as she burst out onto the sunny sidewalk.
He had slipped out as soon as they'd let her off the stand.
She scowled at him wishing that he had been anywhere else but that courtroom today or that he was anywhere but there now, just staring at her with equal parts pity and curiosity. "Don't talk." She told him as she enjoyed a cigarette and leaned against the railing a few steps above him. He complied and didn't make direct eye contact as if he was approaching a wild animal in the woods.
As the end of the recess drew near House broke the silence. "You going back in?"
She just shook her head.
"You want to get out of here?"
She nodded. "Where's your bike?"
"At the hospital. I rode with Wilson."
"Let's go get it."
House nodded and followed her to the car. He didn't argue as she climbed into the driver's seat. They rode in silence until they reached the hospital.
"Garage." House told her.
She parked next to the orange motor cycle and un-clicked her seatbelt. Before House could reach for the door she was half in his lap, half draped across the seat, and kissing him so hard it was almost painful. She needed his mouth more than breath, and when she finally pulled away she was gasping and panting.
She reached for his seatbelt and let her hand smooth over the nylon strap in his lap. Then she stopped, sat back in her seat, and stared out the windshield at nothing. She didn't want to seem desperate. Even if she was desperate it wasn't for him, but for the distraction he brought.
"You ok?" She couldn't tell if the concern in his voice was meant to mask his curiosity or the other way around.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"You seem just peachy."
"It's not the best day I ever had, but definitely not the worst. I'm really ok." She nodded as if this made her statement more effective.
"Not mad at that lawyer, or your mom, or yourself? Things are swell."
"She's not going to prison. That's good. I'm relieved. That was a celebratory kiss."
"You should be mad. She had no right…"
Chris sighed. Why couldn't he leave it alone? "House, she never said it."
"What?"
"I lied. I couldn't think of an answer. It was a dumb question. He was just trying to trap me. It made him look like a total prick and reinforced mom's damage. It was actually pretty clever."
"So you just made it up? She didn't blame you? It just seemed like the thing to say?" House scrutinized her movement and expression.
"I'm sure she blamed me, but she never said it. She wasn't a terrible mom." She meant to leave it that, but the rest of her thought spilled out of her mouth before she could catch it. "I said it, a few hours before I took all of my post op meds and a bottle of Motrin I swiped from the nurse's station. Post partum hormones are a real bitch when you don't have anything cute and cuddly to take home."
"You did it at the hospital? That's just stupid."
"I did it at the pharmacy and then took a nap on an empty subway car. A youth group from Kansas just happened to be passing out tracts to homeless people. When the power of prayer didn't wake me they called 911. "
"Do you still have the tract?"
"Yep, the kid that found me still writes every time he uses me as a sermon illustration" She smiled to herself and wondered how Jeremy was doing these days. Then she kissed House on the cheek and popped out of the car. She stood beside his bike and waited for him follow her.
"Where to?" He asked as he got out.
"Anywhere. As fast as you dare." She waited for him to get on and climbed up behind him.
They roared out of the garage only to stop a few yards away for a procession of emergency vehicles. He took the back way around, avoiding as many stops and as much traffic as possible. At House's command the bike weaved through the concrete jungle of the hospital district, zipped passed the suburbs in one gulp, and finally found its wings on a winding open road that meandered toward the interstate.
Per her request, he rode as fast he dared with her behind him. Her arms held tight around his waist and he felt her gasp a few times, but never protest. Her body followed his, leaning and swaying with the machine and fighting every instinct that said to do just the opposite. The adrenaline seemed to course between them feeding one spectacular high.
When they had to stop for gas they were two towns away and it was late afternoon. Chris went into the station for a bottle of water and then sat at a nearby picnic table to smoke a cigarette. House sat next to her on the table taking a drag from the cigarette first and then drinking from the water bottle.
"That's almost better than sex." She said.
"Almost." He agreed.
"Does it make you happy?" She asked.
"Sure." House shrugged the question off.
"What else makes you happy?"
"Drugs, the giving and receiving of orgasms… not necessarily in that order."
Her laugh was light, but it seemed to weigh her down. "I'm serious. What makes you happy? You're work? It doesn't seem like it. It seems … not really even satisfying, more like satiating maybe. Like methadone instead of heroin."
He couldn't have described it better himself, not that he'd ever tell her that, or even try to describe it. "Music." He said.
"Music doesn't count. It's designed to create false emotions. Play the Titanic song for anyone who had to go to a funeral or work in a movie theatre that year and you're going to get a reaction. It's nothing to do with Jack or Rose."
"It brings back a memory, the memory brings up an emotion. If I remember you in that Lara Croft get up and get a rise in my Levi's is it false?"
She thought about this for a moment.
"Do you still have that outfit?" House asked.
"I've got electrical tape, that's the most important part right?" She grinned and he grinned, and they shared a moment of silence for all the fun things that might be done with electrical tape. "So that's it? Sex, drugs, rock n roll, and the motorcycle? You really are a teenage boy."
"Were you fishing for a compliment? Was I supposed to say 'you'?"
"If I wanted a compliment from you I'd use a script and a bribe." She smirked.
"I thought it was sort of implied by the orgasm part anyways."
She laughed again and it seemed lighter. "You thought that was a compliment? No wonder you have to pay for sex."
"What does that say about you?"
"That I am remarkably kind and benevolent." She leaned over and kissed him and then laid her head on his shoulder at a not particularly comfortable angle. "I just thought you'd have something more original to say." That wasn't entirely true. She'd expected him to say nothing, either literally because "nothing" made him happy, or not to answer at all.
"What about you?" He said.
"Hmmm?" She was lost in her own thoughts about what really made him, or her, or anyone happy or unhappy.
"What makes you happy?"
She didn't speak at first. "If I say something awkward do you promise to at least take me back to Plainsboro before you run away screaming?"
"I promise, and if I don't keep it I'll at least tell Wilson where to come pick you up."
She turned her body towards him and lifted her head so that she was looking into his eyes. "You make me happy. When we're like this, and you're close enough to touch and not doing or saying anything awful, you make me as happy as I can ever remember being."
She looked away and they didn't speak. She thought surely she had said too much. She waited for him to signal it was time to leave or crack a joke, but he didn't. The silence was unbearable.
"I don't like it."
"Being happy?" House snickered and slipped his arms around her waist, sensing she needed some signal that he was not nearly as uncomfortable as she was.
"Being the girl who is happy just because she's getting laid. My world is falling apart and you can still make me laugh. It's a little lame."
"You're happy because the world is falling down. You're free. It has nothing to do with me."
She turned her face up at him again trying to see if he meant what he was saying. "That makes me sound much cooler, kind of a bitch, but at least not a needy bitch." She smiled. "It's still a got a little to do with you."
He pulled her closer and kissed her. "Maybe a little."