What Now?

Summary: Follows Betrayed. House has regrets. Chase is uncertain.
Warning(s): M/m; Established D/s relationship; Angst; Mention of violent action/domestic abuse; Spoilers for House; references to drug addiction and withdrawal; some descriptions of wounds being treated
Pairing: House/Chase

###

To say he'd had a bad day would be an understatement. To say the whole week had been hell would also be an understatement. Going through the withdrawal had been bad enough. Taking things out on Chase was the worst thing he'd done, though. He'd regretted punching his lover the moment he'd done it, but he hadn't been able to properly apologise, since they were both at work and the only person who knew about their relationship was Wilson.

It was the end of the work day and House hadn't seen Chase since the successful diagnosis of the patient. He didn't know if Chase was still at the hospital, or had gone back to the apartment...or even gone back to his own apartment. House couldn't blame him if he did.

Picking up his phone, House stared at the screen. Specifically, he stared at Chase's name. His thumb hovered over the Call button as he tried to pluck up the courage to actually make the call.

***

Chase had managed to keep his cool when House had slugged him, though it wasn't due to some Herculean effort on his part. Truthfully, he'd been too stunned when it first happened and afterwards, he'd been confused and hurt. He reacted as he always had when a child and he'd become the focus of his parents' ire, due to alcohol or whatever had set them off. Granted, their ire was almost always in the form of harsh words and accusations, but the root cause was the same. They'd lost control of themselves and lashed out.

When his shift had ended, he had gone back to the apartment. He didn't really have anywhere else to go; the lease on his own apartment had ended and he'd officially moved out the week before. He wasn't sure it was the right decision; House had hit him, and while Chase had a lot of issues, he'd promised himself he would never let himself become a punching bag to anyone else, no matter who it was. House had never attacked him before, though, and he couldn't bring himself to leave. Was that a mistake? He didn't know.

***

Eventually, House put away his phone without trying to call Chase. He needed to talk to the other man, even though he wasn't sure if Chase would be willing to talk to him. He wouldn't be able to blame Chase if that was the case.

Leaving the hospital, House got on his motorbike and began heading back to the apartment. He didn't know if Chase would be there or not. If he wasn't, then House would have to figure out his next move. But if Chase was there, then...maybe there was a chance, however slim, to make things right.

Parking outside the apartment complex, House slowly entered the building and headed to the apartment he wasn't sure he still shared with Chase.

Chase had made it to the apartment, but after letting himself in, he'd felt like he was unanchored. Drifting. His insecurity and fears told him he should pack and leave. If House had hit him, then the older man probably didn't want him any longer- his true feelings had come out during his stress of withdrawal. Chase's insecurity and fears also told him he needed to stay put and not go anywhere; accept whatever House did, because he'd never find someone as understanding and forgiving of his faults who would want him. Whatever he did, he knew it would hurt. He loved House so much, and his mate had hit him without even a pause. Was he truly so worthless that...?  He sat slumped on the couch, staring into space, trying to figure out what to do, listless and depressed and pushing his own anger at the situation deep down.

Breathing in deeply, House unlocked the door and opened it, stepping into the apartment. His breath came out in a rush when he saw Chase there, sitting on the couch. "Chase...." Words failed him. He knew he needed to apologise, but what could he say? How could he make this right? How could he even hope to repair things?

Chase looked up, but it wasn't with the usual welcoming, happy smile he normally greeted his lover with. He was visibly deflated and he couldn't help but flinch back slightly as House entered the apartment, even if he forced himself to remain seated. He swallowed hard, but didn't say anything. He was afraid his voice would give away how much turmoil he was in.

"You're here." It wasn't what House wanted to say. It definitely wasn't what he'd intended to lead with. He'd noticed the flinch, and it just made him feel even worse about what had happened and what he'd done. "I thought maybe you wouldn't be," he said quietly. He needed to apologise...explain. But he wasn't used to apologising, or even feeling guilty about what he'd done. And somehow, actually saying the words I'm sorry was a really daunting feeling.

Chase's smile wasn't happy. "Yeah. I always told myself if a lover ever hit me, I'd leave... That I wouldn't ever accept something like that. But when I even thought about packing up, it felt like I was being ripped apart..." he admitted quietly, his voice resigned and rough. "Everything I've learned and known through the years tells me I need to go, but I love you so much, I want to believe it was an accident. That you didn't mean to and it won't ever happen again.... Even though if it happened to anyone else, I'd be insisting they leave..." His voice caught and hints of his own self-doubt carried. "So, tell me..." Chase swallowed hard again. "Am I the world's biggest fool? I dunno... Maybe I deserved it. Karma for all my past mistakes I got away with? I... I just don't understand...." He slumped, looking at the floor again, shoulders tense.

"Chase...." House slowly limped over to the other man, though he didn't sit down, and he didn't try to touch Chase. "I should never have hit you. I can say that it was because of the withdrawal, but that doesn't change what I did." He tried not to look at the bruise on his lover's face, but it was a glaring reminder of the mistake he'd made. The pain he'd caused. "You didn't deserve it. You would never deserve it," he whispered.

Chase finally looked up into House's eyes, letting the older man get a better view of the bruise. He'd put a bag of frozen peas over it, but hadn't really taken care of it. He was afraid to see the physical evidence of what had occurred. He wasn't sure what he'd do if he saw it.

He hadn't stuck around long after being hit, either. Even if no one knew of his and House's relationship, wouldn't make accusations of domestic battery or look at Chase like he was a victim, there had still been people acting outraged on his behalf and urging him to press charges. So he'd left work as soon as he could, taking personal time, and come home... not getting it taken care of, or taking care of it himself. There was a small cut scabbing over under his eye that really should have been cleaned and stitched.

The bruise was bad enough. The physical pain he could deal with, though. It was the anger, confusion and fear that he didn't know how to handle... all of it directed toward the man he loved more than himself. "I don't know what to do..." he admitted, in a broken voice.

House forced himself not to flinch as he saw the evidence of the punch; the mark he'd left on Chase's face. The hollow pit of guilt gnawed at his stomach and he started to say something, started to offer to actually treat the bruise and the cut he'd caused, but reality intruded and he knew Chase likely wouldn't trust him near him any time soon, let alone touching him to treat him. "I can call Wilson here, so he can take a proper look," he offered. "I won't...I'm not...I won't hurt you. I understand if you don't trust me. But it still needs to be treated." His voice wasn't as strong and certain as it should have been.

Chase blinked, some small part of him hurt that House was putting up a barrier and didn't want to touch him. Of course, another small part was relieved; and mentally, he realized House was holding back more for Chase's benefit than any disinclination to physically connect. "If you think..." His voice faltered. He didn't doubt he needed treatment, but he also didn't want Wilson to see. It made him feel small, and dirty. Pathetic. Especially since, despite everything, he was still in House's apartment and had no intentions of leaving. "I still trust you..." His voice was faint, and the unspoken, 'Even if I shouldn't,' was clear.

House didn't say he wasn't sure he could trust himself. He had no intention of hurting Chase again...felt horrible and guilty for doing so in the first place. But the fact remained that he had hurt Chase. He'd hurt the man he loved, even if he didn't say those words as often as he should. "I think Wilson would be better." His voice came out as barely a whisper, and he couldn't make himself look into Chase's eyes. "If I tried to do it, you might react. Not consciously, but if you flinched...." His voice trailed off. He didn't want to point out that him trying to help Chase could make the injury worse, even though that was in his head.

Chase nodded hesitantly, his gaze falling to the floor again. He couldn't say he wouldn't flinch. Although he couldn't say he wouldn't flinch for Wilson either. He was more jittery than a caffeine addict who'd drunk too much coffee. "Yeah... Okay..." he agreed listlessly. He was getting tired. Keeping his emotions tightly contained inside, so no one could see how he was feeling, took a lot of work. The fact his emotions were all over the board and he wasn't certain he should be feeling some of them didn't help.  It did help slightly that House was taking charge of making the decision to get Chase help. It was familiar and comforting, even with the unfamiliar intrusion of thinking he shouldn't still want to submit to House.

House nodded and took out his cell phone. He quickly called Wilson and the other man answered almost instantly. House didn't say much to his friend, just confirming that Chase was at his place and asking Wilson to come over to help where he couldn't. Then he disconnected the call and swallowed. "Do you need me to get you anything? A blanket, maybe?" He looked a bit more closely at Chase, trying to see if there were any signs or symptoms of shock.

Chase blinked again, realizing for the first time that he actually was cold. And felt nauseous. "I'm gonna be sick..." he blurted, lunging toward the bath, hoping he reached the toilet before his lunch ended up on the floor.

There wasn't much House could do about Chase being sick, but he went into the kitchen and got a glass of water, so Chase would be able to rinse his mouth. And he retrieved a blanket, having noticed that his lover had begun shivering.

Chase sank weakly on the floor, against the wall across from the toilet, feeling drained and not able to work up the energy to move. If he could get up the energy, he'd go to the kitchen. Pull out the alcohol.

House put the blanket and water in the main room, along with a bucket. Then, he headed through to the bathroom. "You can't sit here, Chase. It's not going to help you feel any better." Hesitantly, uncertain of the response he'd get, he offered a hand to help the other man up.

Chase couldn't stop his initial flinch as House's hand came into view, but he knew his lover was right. He still loved House and wanted to be with him. He believed the older man wouldn't punch him again, even if there was a slight hesitancy in his interactions. Clearing his throat- it was sore from vomiting- he reached up and took his lover's hand. He stood on shaky feet, prepared to let House lead him.

House had seen the flinch and it made him feel even worse, but he didn't say anything. He deserved Chase to be hesitant and unsure around him. His own actions had caused this, and if it hurt, it was only what was deserved.

Moving carefully, House led Chase back into the main room and helped him to sit on the couch. Then, hearing the buzzer, he went to let Wilson into the apartment.

While House went to let Wilson in, Chase rinsed out his mouth, spitting the water into the bucket before taking several gulps of water in an attempt to soothe his throat and settle his stomach. He tried to snap out of the funk he'd fallen into.

Wilson and House didn't say a lot to each other before House led Wilson into the main room and handed the first aid kit to him.

Wilson moved over to carefully check the bruise and cut from the punch. "Do you still feel sick?" he asked Chase. "Any headaches? Dizziness?"

"A little nausea... Slight headache..." Chase reluctantly admitted. He didn't like admitting any weakness, but he knew it was important to be honest about his health. He darted a glance toward House as he admitted it, the habit of confessing such things to his lover making him feel guilty he hadn't said anything before, although House hadn't asked.

House shifted slightly, trying not to look as guilty as he felt...although both Wilson and Chase knew him well enough by now to see how he really felt below the surface.

"What about your eyesight?" Wilson kept his tone professional as he asked, "Any double vision? Or blurriness?"

"A... A little. Blurriness, I mean. No double vision..." Chase said quietly. "I'll be able to return to work..." He blushed as it came out sounding more like a question than an assertion, and glanced toward House again. The older man was giving him space, but Chase was beginning to think that was more upsetting than having House moving toward him. He'd finally accepted that he wasn't leaving his lover, despite all 'he knew' about 'what he should do'. He wanted things to go back to normal. Have House take more...more something.

"Chase, you've just been sick. You wouldn't be able to return to work until at least 48 hours have passed." House said the words, almost an order, without even thinking of it. He realised what his voice sounded like after he'd said the words and winced, looking down at his hands.

"Are you planning to stay here?" Wilson asked Chase, figuring he'd find out where the two men stood right now.

Chase visibly relaxed as House stepped in. His lover still wanted to be with him, then. He wouldn't have decided to 'make' Chase take care of his health if he didn't. Not that House would see him relaxing. Now that Chase had made up his mind and decided to ignore the inner monologue telling him to pack up and leave, he could see how upset, guilty and uncertain House felt. That was a good sign, right? That he felt guilty? House had never been physically violent to him before... he obviously regretted it.

He almost missed Wilson's question, he was so focused on House. Luckily, he caught enough to understand what was being asked. "Yes. I'm staying." His voice wasn't very loud, strong, or even steady, but it was certain. "I'm not going anywhere...." He faced House again. "I love you too much to leave now... But if you ever hit me like that again...." It was clear this was House's one and only chance.

"It shouldn't have happened this time." The response was barely loud enough to carry to anyone else's ears, but it was still audible. "It won't happen again." He said those words a bit louder. They were a promise...a vow. To himself as well as Chase.

"I think there's a strong possibility you have a concussion," Wilson said to Chase. "Since you're staying here, House will be able to keep an eye on you and make sure your symptoms don't get any worse. He'll certainly have time to," he added, almost under his breath.

Chase was about to respond to House's promise when Wilson's muttered comment arrested his attention. He gave the other man a worried look. "Why will he have time to? I didn't report... he isn't...?"

"Enough people witnessed it that there's going to need to be an investigation," Wilson said.

"I'll be suspended while it's carried out." House's voice was quiet, but resigned. He'd be suspended, but wouldn't lose his job. However.... "I'm sure Cuddy will make me getting therapy a condition of coming back to work."

"Not that there have been many situations like this, but that's the general requirement when it comes to situations like this," Wilson agreed.

Chase blinked, still obviously worried. "But he won't be fired? If I refuse to press charges or even report... They can't force me to say anything... Can they?"

"No. They can't," Wilson agreed. "But it's procedure in this kind of situation. Even though you won't press charges, procedure still needs to be followed. And part of that is going to therapy. It's something both of you might benefit from anyway," he added.

"Yeah... Okay ...." Chase quickly agreed. If he didn't protest, maybe House wouldn't argue about the need for therapy.

"I'll get a list of therapists. If you can decide on one without Cuddy telling you to, it'll be a point in your favour," Wilson said to House. He then spoke to Chase. "I'm going to clean that cut and then stitch it." He began to put action to words.

Chase held still and managed to avoid making noise beyond a soft hiss of pain as Wilson began to take care of him. "I'll find one that will see us both..." he offered. "... If that's okay."

"Yeah," House said quietly. With how he felt right now, he'd probably agree to anything Chase wanted.

Wiilson didn't say anything, just focusing first on cleaning the cut and then on carefully stitching it.

Chase relaxed as House agreed to let him choose the therapist. He had to swallow several times as Wilson stitched him up. "Feel nauseous..." he admitted.

"Do you think you'll be sick?" House quickly motioned for Wilson to stop the stitching, and moved the bucket closer, so that Chase could easily use it.

Chase swallowed a few more times, taking slow, deep breaths. "I think I can keep it down... For the moment..." he finally said. He clenched his hands as Wilson began stitching again.  "Am I allowed to sleep? When the stitches are done?" he asked to distract himself, not caring who answered him.

House nodded. "You don't have to sleep in my bed, if you don't feel comfortable enough, but I'll still keep an eye on you," he said. "If you do want to sleep in the bed, I'll give you space."

Chase looked almost crestfallen at the words. Having decided he wasn't leaving, he felt the need for things to stay 'normal' as much as possible. Normal was sleeping in his lover's arms. Usually naked, so House had easy access. Chase was willing to wear pajamas if House insisted, but what if House didn't want to sleep next to him? That thought hurt deeply. "If that's what you want..." he finally whispered, not even trying to keep the worried hurt out of his voice.

Wilson snorted softly. "Of course it's not what he wants."

House frowned. "Wilson...."

"Don't even try to lie, House," Wilson said. "If you weren't feeling so damned guilty, you wouldn't even be thinking about sleeping separately."

Chase bit his lip. He wasn't about to tell House he shouldn't feel guilty... House had hit him, after all, and that was something he should feel guilty about. At the same time, Chase didn't want him beating himself up over it. Especially not if it resulted in him pulling away from Chase. "I need you next to me..." he finally whispered, in a soft, helpless voice. "Can't sleep by myself... Not anymore...."

Surprised, House looked at Chase, into his eyes, for a few moments before he nodded. "Yeah. Okay." He was obviously still feeling guilty, still feeling bad, but if Chase was telling him he needed House close, then House wouldn't pull away.

Chase relaxed at that, letting his relief show clearly. He gave his lover a tentative smile, his love and forgiveness shining in his eyes. He hadn't said it out loud, but it was there if House could accept it. "So, it is safe for me to sleep?" he tried to confirm.

Wilson nodded. "So long as House keeps an eye on you, that won't be a problem."

"I'll be keeping an eye on him." House moved a bit closer, almost tentatively, but no longer keeping his distance.

"You're all done." Wilson finished the stitches and went to wash his hands.

"Thank you..." Chase whispered to the other man. He stayed still for a few moments, not attempting to get up. The nausea was still there, though it was beginning to ebb now that he no longer had to feel a needle and thread pulling through his skin. Plus... he was hoping that House would take over; be his typical bossy self that he usually became if Chase was ill and he wanted to make sure the younger man was taken care of. He wanted his lover to behave normal.

"You didn't get changed yet. You'll be more comfortable out of those clothes." It wasn't easy to make himself act normal, but House pushed aside his own feelings of guilt to focus on his lover.

Wilson came out of the washroom and retrieved his bag. "Do you need anything else before I leave?"

"I don't think so... We have pain medication I can take if needed..." Chase answered. "Thank you for helping...." He was just as thankful that Wilson was supportive of him staying with House. He suspected he'd need the other man's help to get House to not withdraw from him when the guilt became overwhelming. He looked at House... "Okay..." He responded to the words about getting comfortable but didn't actually move. Was he wearing pajamas or getting naked? He didn't particularly want to ask in front of Wilson, even if the man knew they were lovers.

"You've got my number. Both of you have my number," Wilson said. "Use it." He walked towards the door. "I'll send over that list of therapists later."

"Okay... I will..." Chase said sheepishly, feeling a bit scolded and not sure why he felt scolded. He stayed where he was. Wilson knew how to let himself out and Chase didn't particularly feel like moving any more than he needed to. He'd go to bed once Wilson was gone.

Wilson nodded and slipped out of the apartment, closing the door behind him.

House took a deep breath and turned to Chase. "Would you feel more comfortable wearing pajamas?"

Chase eyed House, trying to determine what House would feel more comfortable with, but not truly able to tell. Sighing softly, he admitted, "I'll feel better naked, but I also will feel better if you hold me, so if you don't want...."

"Okay." House limped into the bedroom, expecting that Chase would follow him. In other circumstances, he wouldn't have hesitated to start stripping his lover himself. Right now, he couldn't quite bring himself to take that control...but he did remove his own clothing, assuming that Chase would prefer to sleep as 'normally' as possible.

Chase followed quietly, careful not to move too fast; he didn't want to trigger dizziness or nausea again. He pushed down his worry that House was leaving him to undress himself... it was obvious his mate was feeling like he needed to pull back. He slowly began to undress himself, staying close to the bed in case he had to sit quickly.

House moved to retrieve the bucket left in the main room, rinsing it out and then leaving it by Chase's side of the bed, in easy reach for if his lover felt sick.

"Thank you..." Chase said quietly. He moved to his side of the bed and straightened his pillow before carefully crawling in. He waited for House uncertainly, not sure if his lover would pull him close or stay aloof.

House carefully got into the bed on 'his' side and then slid closer to Chase, letting his arms slip around his lover's waist.

Taking that as an invitation, Chase twisted until he was laying tight against House, his head on his lover's chest, snuggling as close as possible. They weren't typically an overly affectionate couple, but Chase felt unsettled and worried enough that he needed to be held close and tight. "I love you..." he whispered hesitantly, afraid of being rebuffed.

House breathed in deeply and closed his eyes, letting his lips brush gently against the top of Chase's head. "I love you too." The words were barely above a whisper, but they were sincere and filled with emotion.

Chase let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding and relaxed. It didn't take long to fall asleep.

The End