Categories > TV > House
Title: Lessons Learned
Author: seldra
Fandoms: House M.D., Torchwood
Pairings: Jack/Chase, mentions of past House/Chase and Chase/Cameron
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: angst, explicit sex, more angst
Disclaimer: owned by David Shore/FOX and Russell T. Davies/BBC.
Notes: Written for crossovers100, on LJ, my claim is Robert Chase. The prompt was "heart."
Spoilers: takes place between Season 3 and Season 4 of House M.D., so SPOILERS for the end of S3 and the begining of S4.
Summary: Chase and relationships.
He should be alright with this, but he isn’t. It stings and his chest feels heavy, like he can’t breathe. But that’s stupid. So stupid that he tries not to think about it anymore, but the more he tries not to think about it, the more it gnaws at him – and his thoughts are so loud now that there’s no way he’ll get to sleep.
Chase turns on his side and stares the clock. It’s almost two in the morning, which will make it another late night. Provided, of course, he gets to sleep at all. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. He never had insomnia since House came – and left.
He swallows and pushes the thought away, rolling over again.
But he knows it’s pointless. He won’t sleep.
It was something I did that –
No, he pushes that thought away. He’s not even sure why it’s there when the rest of him knows House has always been a bastard, that he was never more than good lay to him, and that he shouldn’t give a flying fuck that he left.
And he wouldn’t. It’s just…
This seems to happen a lot, doesn’t it?
And the fact that he knew full well House never meant to stay doesn’t seem like solace anymore, more like another lump of pain. He knows there’s nothing connecting his mother and House –
Although she did choose the bottle over her own son.
Or Cameron and House –
“I never meant to hurt you,” she said, but she smiled just a little when she said it, and maybe he was seeing things that weren’t there, but he didn’t think it was sympathetic.
Or any of the other failed relationships, lost friendships, or estranged relatives in his life, but it was just a lot —
A lot.
A lot to be alone with. A lot to be thinking about, alone.
Chase runs a hand through his hair and sighs, staring up at the ceiling.
House doesn’t treat him any differently at work – like he didn’t while they were sleeping together – but Chase still finds this oddly reassuring. He can pretend it never happened at all, which he pretty much has to, to make it through the day. But he can’t forget. He can’t forget the feel of those hands on his skin, or those lips. House didn’t kiss him a lot on the mouth, but he certainly found other ways to keep his lips and teeth and tongue busy.
He knows he should have learnt his lesson from Cameron: don’t fall too fast. But he didn’t. He has an uncomfortable feeling he never will.
And then House fires him and it’s like the world’s coming apart and House says it’s because he’s learnt all he can, and Cameron says it’s because House is angry at Foreman, and Chase can’t help wondering if it’s because of the sex and if House can’t stand being around him now.
And that’s a whole new kind of hurt.
But Chase doesn’t cry when House fires him. At least not then and there. He doesn’t even cry that night. He cries three weeks later when he realizes he should be getting up and going to work, but there’s no job for him to go to and it’s really horribly pathetic, but he doesn’t know what else he can do.
Cameron hands in her resignation at Princeton Plainsboro and gets angry when Chase isn’t as sympathetic and grateful as she thinks he should be. They don’t speak again after that and Chase is glad because she didn’t want to be his lover and she really wasn’t any good at being his friend.
He’s never had many friends. He had a good friend named Anna back in Melbourne. She was nice, funny. She kissed him on the forehead, once. He can’t remember what colour her eyes were because she was always wearing purple contact lenses.
And that’s when he realizes he’s never been as alone before as he is now. He can’t call Anna because he’s afraid he’ll get a stranger on the phone who will tell him she’s dead. It’s funny because he never used to be afraid of telephones. Not since a stranger told him his dad was dead over one.
The phone rings and he stares at it for a second or two, but doesn’t pick it up. Instead he puts on his leather jacket and heads out, in the direction of the closest bar.
Over the past few weeks Chase has come to accept that he’s a magnet for bad luck, but it only gets worse. In the split-second it takes him to enter the bar he manages to walk straight into another guy. A very tall guy, at that – a man with broad shoulders and – Chase can’t help but think as the stranger’s drinks spill on both of them and the floor – a man that could squash him like an insect.
The man’s hands wrap around Chase’s wrists. He notices how big they are. He also notices the long sweeping military coat he’s wearing. It’s heavy and dark and it’s the sort of coat, Chase thinks, that belongs to the sort of man that you really don’t want to tick off.
Their eyes meet and Chase can’t help blinking nervously, the noise of the shattered glass is still ringing in his ears, and he’s painfully aware of the entire bar staring at him and the dark-haired stranger with the cold grey eyes.
Then, unbelievably, the man smiles and Chase feels his heart turn over. The man has a gorgeous smile – it changes his entire appearance from stony to warm, and suddenly he’s shaking Chase’s hand and introducing himself.
“Hello. Captain Jack Harkness,” he says, and with more than a hint of suggestion in his voice: “And who might you be?”
He feels his heart racing already. “Chase.”
His throat is dry. But Jack’s smile radiates an amicable charm he can’t escape, his eyes sparkle with mischief and there’s a promise there, too. He laughs and says something about having to get another drink (obviously) and offers to buy Chase one, and then he’s leading him back to the bar and Chase knows he didn’t learn his lesson from House anymore than he did from Cameron because once again he’s falling and he’s falling way too fast.
Jack slips his arm around his back with practiced ease and he murmurs words in Chase’s ear. His breath tickles and the words make him blush, but then Jack has turned to the bartender and is ordering their drinks.
The beer is good – it takes the edge off his nervousness and dulls the old knot of pain where House and Cameron and his parents hover in the back of his mind. Jack is really strikingly handsome – and he laughs a lot, though it might be just a little forced. He grabs Chase’s hand ever so often while he’s talking – he doesn’t seem to mind if anyone’s staring at them. Chase lets the surrounding noises of the bar – voices, laughter, music, television – wash in and over him, mingling with Jack’s words. Jack seems to enjoy talking – about friends and lovers and highly unlikely situations, mostly, that Chase has trouble following, but that’s okay because Jack has a really nice voice and his eyes keep watching him, like he’s saying something important, even though he hasn’t said anything at all. And soon Jack has Chase laughing too.
“So there we are,” Jack says, his hands raised dramatically in front of him, “the three of us running down this hallway and of course security’s locked all the doors on us and the cops are chasing us – and we’re completely naked!”
Chase has lost count of how many drinks they’ve had by this point, but he knows he’s in that right place where he’s not too drunk but everything’s gotten sort and warm and comfortably fuzzy around the edges. Jack’s the only thing in the world he’s paying attention to at this point. He laughs, and Jack laughs and starts telling him something about an octopus and a the Emperor of some country Chase has never heard of’s wayward daughter when he stops, all of a sudden, and leans forward and traps Chase in a passionate kiss.
He’s so surprised he can’t move at first. Jack’s hands are warm and gentle and firmly on either side of his face, his thumbs drawing little circles at the corners of his mouth. His lips are warm and his tongue is sweet and exploring his mouth before he really knows what’s going on. Then all he can do is kiss back. He can’t remember the last time he was kissed like this; Jack’s mouth tastes so good and it makes him feel light.
The walk back to his apartment is a blur – and he almost thinks if he hadn’t insisted Jack would have taken him right there in the bar! – they stumble through the doorway, Jack’s hands all over him. Big hands, strong hands. And Chase wishes – really wishes – he hadn’t fallen so hard and so fast and now the only way to block the pain out is to keep going, keep pressing forward before it becomes overwhelming.
His heart’s pounding. He kisses Jack on the lips again. He wants to be kissed. Jack obliges, he seems to like kissing him, and runs his hands down his back and grabs his ass. When the kiss finally ends Jack pushes him up against the wall. He looks down at him and he’s serious but he has a little smile. His lips brush his forehead and Chase can feel fingers running lightly through his hair. Then Jack’s arms are around his back and he feels him kissing the top of his head and he forces himself not to cry.
“Are you okay?” Jack whispers, and Chase feels his fingers running up and down his spine as they move away from the wall.
He has to take a deep breath before he can speak. “Yes,” he says, kissing Jack’s throat and his jaw.
He doesn’t think Jack believes him, but he makes it clear he isn’t going to argue the point further. Instead he lifts Chase up, completely clear of the ground, and sort of swings him onto the bed. Chase thinks, fleetingly, of young brides being carried over the threshold but that thought makes him vaguely uncomfortable and there’s no time for it, anyways, a second later Jack has thrown his long coat away and is crawling on top of him. He wears suspenders, Chase notices while he’s pulling them off. Jack’s hands are quickly tearing his shirt open and dragging his pants down, and it’s no time at all until they’re both completely unclothed.
Jack is much gentler than House had ever been – and less frenzied than Cameron. He shoves these thoughts away. He doesn’t want to think about them, didn’t mean to – and yet – Jack keeps kissing him – on the mouth – long, deep, passionate kisses – which is something neither Cameron or House ever did.
Their bodies move against each other, twisting and touching and it’s as much like dancing as it is like fucking and it would have made him nervous because he didn’t know the moves, but Jack doesn’t seem to mind, he just keeps teasing and touching and kissing.
“Do you have anything to use for lube?” he asks.
Chase nods, groaning as Jack’s hands move between his thighs. “In the nightstand – just –there,” he gasps and he can feel Jack grinning into his collarbone as his hands explore his sex. There’s just the slightest break of contact as Jack moves to get the lube, but then he wastes no time preparing Chase. His hands are so good, they make him moan and cry and he can’t help it, and Jack’s smile just gets wider.
Jack talks a lot during sex, too, Chase discovers. Murmured words, encouragement, bits and pieces of things Chase doesn’t catch or can’t understand. It seems like every second he isn’t kissing or licking he’s talking, keeping up that comforting flow of words. Chase presses back into his finger and fights against whimpering – it feels so good. Jack slides another finger into him. He tries to speak, to beg Jack for more, but what comes out of his throat isn’t anywhere near coherent. Jack understands, though. Jack obviously has a lot of experience in this area. Though that’s something Chase doesn’t think about until afterwards.
He feels the tip of Jack’s hard length pressing against him – and Jack moves agonizingly slowly, letting him adjust. He feels Jack’s lips on his back, on his shoulder and his hands, still going everywhere, his hips, his chest, trailing down his stomach. He’s not sure any more which of them is making the noises, but then Jack’s hands find his erection and it’s all he can do not to scream with pleasure.
Jack is buried in him now, and when he moves they both groan and Chase cries out when he touches him. It isn’t long before they both come; the orgasm is blistering and intense and Chase sees white suns exploding in his head.
A moment later Jack wraps his arms around him and pulls him against his chest and its warm and he can hear Jack’s heart beating and that night he has no trouble falling asleep.
He wakes up well before dawn which is probably a good thing, because Jack is pulling his clothes on in a hurry and obviously trying not to make a noise to wake him, either. Chase has been walked out on plenty of times and he tells himself it doesn’t matter, which is a lie because he can already feel his heart breaking.
And as much as he tries not to let any of this show on his face he knows he’s lousy at hiding his emotions – his father always called him a crybaby and House would have agreed. Well, he’s not crying now but he knows he doesn’t look very happy. Jack stops when he sees him watching and he looks at him and he actually looks sorry, but the cold lump of pain is lodged firmly back in place and his chest feels like lead and he barely hears Jack’s apologies, something about how he doesn’t even live in the same city, not even the same country, and something about a city called Cardiff that Chase has never heard of.
“It was good though, I mean—” and Jack leans forward and kisses him and Chase lets him because he might never get kissed like that again.
He thinks about how Jack doesn’t even know his first name or what he does for a living, and how anyone with half a brain would have seen this coming miles away and when the hell did he get so desperate anyways – but it’s like when he was begging Cameron to take him back, he knows he’s always been hopelessly stupid with relationships and maybe it’s because his mother drank herself to death and his father disowned him, but he has to admit probably not. He doesn’t know anything anymore, so he curls back up in bed and doesn’t watch Jack walk out the door.
The phone rings again that afternoon and he answers it before he can think about why he shouldn’t because he feels numb and cold and the hurt’s already so powerful he’s not afraid of anything else. It’s Cameron and she tells him she’s taking another job, a new job, at Princeton Plainsboro in the ICU and that there’s a surgery position available and he really should consider it.
In the end he decides to go back, because what else is he going to do? But this time he’s learnt his lesson and he isn’t going back to be with Cameron or House. In fact he’ll avoid everybody, if he can. Well maybe he’ll have to walk by House’s office some time, just to see him, for old time’s sake and maybe to warn the next generation of ducklings, although he doesn’t really feel that charitable. He feels bitter and broken and tells himself he doesn’t want the relationships that none of them would give him, anyways, and he won’t make the same mistake again. His heart’s been broken three times in six months.
He won’t let himself fall again.
END
Author: seldra
Fandoms: House M.D., Torchwood
Pairings: Jack/Chase, mentions of past House/Chase and Chase/Cameron
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: angst, explicit sex, more angst
Disclaimer: owned by David Shore/FOX and Russell T. Davies/BBC.
Notes: Written for crossovers100, on LJ, my claim is Robert Chase. The prompt was "heart."
Spoilers: takes place between Season 3 and Season 4 of House M.D., so SPOILERS for the end of S3 and the begining of S4.
Summary: Chase and relationships.
He should be alright with this, but he isn’t. It stings and his chest feels heavy, like he can’t breathe. But that’s stupid. So stupid that he tries not to think about it anymore, but the more he tries not to think about it, the more it gnaws at him – and his thoughts are so loud now that there’s no way he’ll get to sleep.
Chase turns on his side and stares the clock. It’s almost two in the morning, which will make it another late night. Provided, of course, he gets to sleep at all. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. He never had insomnia since House came – and left.
He swallows and pushes the thought away, rolling over again.
But he knows it’s pointless. He won’t sleep.
It was something I did that –
No, he pushes that thought away. He’s not even sure why it’s there when the rest of him knows House has always been a bastard, that he was never more than good lay to him, and that he shouldn’t give a flying fuck that he left.
And he wouldn’t. It’s just…
This seems to happen a lot, doesn’t it?
And the fact that he knew full well House never meant to stay doesn’t seem like solace anymore, more like another lump of pain. He knows there’s nothing connecting his mother and House –
Although she did choose the bottle over her own son.
Or Cameron and House –
“I never meant to hurt you,” she said, but she smiled just a little when she said it, and maybe he was seeing things that weren’t there, but he didn’t think it was sympathetic.
Or any of the other failed relationships, lost friendships, or estranged relatives in his life, but it was just a lot —
A lot.
A lot to be alone with. A lot to be thinking about, alone.
Chase runs a hand through his hair and sighs, staring up at the ceiling.
House doesn’t treat him any differently at work – like he didn’t while they were sleeping together – but Chase still finds this oddly reassuring. He can pretend it never happened at all, which he pretty much has to, to make it through the day. But he can’t forget. He can’t forget the feel of those hands on his skin, or those lips. House didn’t kiss him a lot on the mouth, but he certainly found other ways to keep his lips and teeth and tongue busy.
He knows he should have learnt his lesson from Cameron: don’t fall too fast. But he didn’t. He has an uncomfortable feeling he never will.
And then House fires him and it’s like the world’s coming apart and House says it’s because he’s learnt all he can, and Cameron says it’s because House is angry at Foreman, and Chase can’t help wondering if it’s because of the sex and if House can’t stand being around him now.
And that’s a whole new kind of hurt.
But Chase doesn’t cry when House fires him. At least not then and there. He doesn’t even cry that night. He cries three weeks later when he realizes he should be getting up and going to work, but there’s no job for him to go to and it’s really horribly pathetic, but he doesn’t know what else he can do.
Cameron hands in her resignation at Princeton Plainsboro and gets angry when Chase isn’t as sympathetic and grateful as she thinks he should be. They don’t speak again after that and Chase is glad because she didn’t want to be his lover and she really wasn’t any good at being his friend.
He’s never had many friends. He had a good friend named Anna back in Melbourne. She was nice, funny. She kissed him on the forehead, once. He can’t remember what colour her eyes were because she was always wearing purple contact lenses.
And that’s when he realizes he’s never been as alone before as he is now. He can’t call Anna because he’s afraid he’ll get a stranger on the phone who will tell him she’s dead. It’s funny because he never used to be afraid of telephones. Not since a stranger told him his dad was dead over one.
The phone rings and he stares at it for a second or two, but doesn’t pick it up. Instead he puts on his leather jacket and heads out, in the direction of the closest bar.
Over the past few weeks Chase has come to accept that he’s a magnet for bad luck, but it only gets worse. In the split-second it takes him to enter the bar he manages to walk straight into another guy. A very tall guy, at that – a man with broad shoulders and – Chase can’t help but think as the stranger’s drinks spill on both of them and the floor – a man that could squash him like an insect.
The man’s hands wrap around Chase’s wrists. He notices how big they are. He also notices the long sweeping military coat he’s wearing. It’s heavy and dark and it’s the sort of coat, Chase thinks, that belongs to the sort of man that you really don’t want to tick off.
Their eyes meet and Chase can’t help blinking nervously, the noise of the shattered glass is still ringing in his ears, and he’s painfully aware of the entire bar staring at him and the dark-haired stranger with the cold grey eyes.
Then, unbelievably, the man smiles and Chase feels his heart turn over. The man has a gorgeous smile – it changes his entire appearance from stony to warm, and suddenly he’s shaking Chase’s hand and introducing himself.
“Hello. Captain Jack Harkness,” he says, and with more than a hint of suggestion in his voice: “And who might you be?”
He feels his heart racing already. “Chase.”
His throat is dry. But Jack’s smile radiates an amicable charm he can’t escape, his eyes sparkle with mischief and there’s a promise there, too. He laughs and says something about having to get another drink (obviously) and offers to buy Chase one, and then he’s leading him back to the bar and Chase knows he didn’t learn his lesson from House anymore than he did from Cameron because once again he’s falling and he’s falling way too fast.
Jack slips his arm around his back with practiced ease and he murmurs words in Chase’s ear. His breath tickles and the words make him blush, but then Jack has turned to the bartender and is ordering their drinks.
The beer is good – it takes the edge off his nervousness and dulls the old knot of pain where House and Cameron and his parents hover in the back of his mind. Jack is really strikingly handsome – and he laughs a lot, though it might be just a little forced. He grabs Chase’s hand ever so often while he’s talking – he doesn’t seem to mind if anyone’s staring at them. Chase lets the surrounding noises of the bar – voices, laughter, music, television – wash in and over him, mingling with Jack’s words. Jack seems to enjoy talking – about friends and lovers and highly unlikely situations, mostly, that Chase has trouble following, but that’s okay because Jack has a really nice voice and his eyes keep watching him, like he’s saying something important, even though he hasn’t said anything at all. And soon Jack has Chase laughing too.
“So there we are,” Jack says, his hands raised dramatically in front of him, “the three of us running down this hallway and of course security’s locked all the doors on us and the cops are chasing us – and we’re completely naked!”
Chase has lost count of how many drinks they’ve had by this point, but he knows he’s in that right place where he’s not too drunk but everything’s gotten sort and warm and comfortably fuzzy around the edges. Jack’s the only thing in the world he’s paying attention to at this point. He laughs, and Jack laughs and starts telling him something about an octopus and a the Emperor of some country Chase has never heard of’s wayward daughter when he stops, all of a sudden, and leans forward and traps Chase in a passionate kiss.
He’s so surprised he can’t move at first. Jack’s hands are warm and gentle and firmly on either side of his face, his thumbs drawing little circles at the corners of his mouth. His lips are warm and his tongue is sweet and exploring his mouth before he really knows what’s going on. Then all he can do is kiss back. He can’t remember the last time he was kissed like this; Jack’s mouth tastes so good and it makes him feel light.
The walk back to his apartment is a blur – and he almost thinks if he hadn’t insisted Jack would have taken him right there in the bar! – they stumble through the doorway, Jack’s hands all over him. Big hands, strong hands. And Chase wishes – really wishes – he hadn’t fallen so hard and so fast and now the only way to block the pain out is to keep going, keep pressing forward before it becomes overwhelming.
His heart’s pounding. He kisses Jack on the lips again. He wants to be kissed. Jack obliges, he seems to like kissing him, and runs his hands down his back and grabs his ass. When the kiss finally ends Jack pushes him up against the wall. He looks down at him and he’s serious but he has a little smile. His lips brush his forehead and Chase can feel fingers running lightly through his hair. Then Jack’s arms are around his back and he feels him kissing the top of his head and he forces himself not to cry.
“Are you okay?” Jack whispers, and Chase feels his fingers running up and down his spine as they move away from the wall.
He has to take a deep breath before he can speak. “Yes,” he says, kissing Jack’s throat and his jaw.
He doesn’t think Jack believes him, but he makes it clear he isn’t going to argue the point further. Instead he lifts Chase up, completely clear of the ground, and sort of swings him onto the bed. Chase thinks, fleetingly, of young brides being carried over the threshold but that thought makes him vaguely uncomfortable and there’s no time for it, anyways, a second later Jack has thrown his long coat away and is crawling on top of him. He wears suspenders, Chase notices while he’s pulling them off. Jack’s hands are quickly tearing his shirt open and dragging his pants down, and it’s no time at all until they’re both completely unclothed.
Jack is much gentler than House had ever been – and less frenzied than Cameron. He shoves these thoughts away. He doesn’t want to think about them, didn’t mean to – and yet – Jack keeps kissing him – on the mouth – long, deep, passionate kisses – which is something neither Cameron or House ever did.
Their bodies move against each other, twisting and touching and it’s as much like dancing as it is like fucking and it would have made him nervous because he didn’t know the moves, but Jack doesn’t seem to mind, he just keeps teasing and touching and kissing.
“Do you have anything to use for lube?” he asks.
Chase nods, groaning as Jack’s hands move between his thighs. “In the nightstand – just –there,” he gasps and he can feel Jack grinning into his collarbone as his hands explore his sex. There’s just the slightest break of contact as Jack moves to get the lube, but then he wastes no time preparing Chase. His hands are so good, they make him moan and cry and he can’t help it, and Jack’s smile just gets wider.
Jack talks a lot during sex, too, Chase discovers. Murmured words, encouragement, bits and pieces of things Chase doesn’t catch or can’t understand. It seems like every second he isn’t kissing or licking he’s talking, keeping up that comforting flow of words. Chase presses back into his finger and fights against whimpering – it feels so good. Jack slides another finger into him. He tries to speak, to beg Jack for more, but what comes out of his throat isn’t anywhere near coherent. Jack understands, though. Jack obviously has a lot of experience in this area. Though that’s something Chase doesn’t think about until afterwards.
He feels the tip of Jack’s hard length pressing against him – and Jack moves agonizingly slowly, letting him adjust. He feels Jack’s lips on his back, on his shoulder and his hands, still going everywhere, his hips, his chest, trailing down his stomach. He’s not sure any more which of them is making the noises, but then Jack’s hands find his erection and it’s all he can do not to scream with pleasure.
Jack is buried in him now, and when he moves they both groan and Chase cries out when he touches him. It isn’t long before they both come; the orgasm is blistering and intense and Chase sees white suns exploding in his head.
A moment later Jack wraps his arms around him and pulls him against his chest and its warm and he can hear Jack’s heart beating and that night he has no trouble falling asleep.
He wakes up well before dawn which is probably a good thing, because Jack is pulling his clothes on in a hurry and obviously trying not to make a noise to wake him, either. Chase has been walked out on plenty of times and he tells himself it doesn’t matter, which is a lie because he can already feel his heart breaking.
And as much as he tries not to let any of this show on his face he knows he’s lousy at hiding his emotions – his father always called him a crybaby and House would have agreed. Well, he’s not crying now but he knows he doesn’t look very happy. Jack stops when he sees him watching and he looks at him and he actually looks sorry, but the cold lump of pain is lodged firmly back in place and his chest feels like lead and he barely hears Jack’s apologies, something about how he doesn’t even live in the same city, not even the same country, and something about a city called Cardiff that Chase has never heard of.
“It was good though, I mean—” and Jack leans forward and kisses him and Chase lets him because he might never get kissed like that again.
He thinks about how Jack doesn’t even know his first name or what he does for a living, and how anyone with half a brain would have seen this coming miles away and when the hell did he get so desperate anyways – but it’s like when he was begging Cameron to take him back, he knows he’s always been hopelessly stupid with relationships and maybe it’s because his mother drank herself to death and his father disowned him, but he has to admit probably not. He doesn’t know anything anymore, so he curls back up in bed and doesn’t watch Jack walk out the door.
The phone rings again that afternoon and he answers it before he can think about why he shouldn’t because he feels numb and cold and the hurt’s already so powerful he’s not afraid of anything else. It’s Cameron and she tells him she’s taking another job, a new job, at Princeton Plainsboro in the ICU and that there’s a surgery position available and he really should consider it.
In the end he decides to go back, because what else is he going to do? But this time he’s learnt his lesson and he isn’t going back to be with Cameron or House. In fact he’ll avoid everybody, if he can. Well maybe he’ll have to walk by House’s office some time, just to see him, for old time’s sake and maybe to warn the next generation of ducklings, although he doesn’t really feel that charitable. He feels bitter and broken and tells himself he doesn’t want the relationships that none of them would give him, anyways, and he won’t make the same mistake again. His heart’s been broken three times in six months.
He won’t let himself fall again.
END
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