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The Patron Saint of the Weak and Powerless
by BlueGemEyes
Author's Notes: This was originally for the 2006 chouse_ficswap. The prompt I received was: "Chase is submissive to House. Cameron finds out and decides to do something about the `horrible' situation." A little BDSM, nothing graphic. Written for calistal, I guess y'all can consider this my Christmas gift to you! Merry Christmas!
He came in limping today. I asked what was wrong...as usual: "Nothing, Allison. I'm fine. Where's the patient's file?"
Something is going on with Chase...it's obviously upsetting him to the point where his judgment is clouded. Over the past month, he's come in wincing or limping, he's had bruises on his neck and arms, and every time he goes to sit down, he winces; he never fully settles his weight on the chair.
I want to help him, but he won't let LET me! He's too proud; House is probably rubbing off on him.
A week after Chase came in limping, it was business as usual. Foreman and I were in the lab, when I remembered that I needed the patients' file to record the test results. I usually never forget things like that, but it was a good thing I did. As I was rounding the corner outside the Diagnostics conference room, I saw something that sent me reeling.
House.
And Chase.
Kissing.
Actually it wasn't...really kissing. Kissing usually has some degree of gentleness to it. There was no gentleness in the way House was treating Chase. House was biting his lips and neck, and making them look red and angry. He had Chase's arms twisted behind his back; his shoulders looked like they were going to pop out of their sockets.
And the worst thing was...Chase just stood there and took it. He didn't fight; he didn't protest...he just submitted to everything House was doing to him.
Well, the LAST place I wanted to be when they were done was watching them through the window, so I turned tail and ran. When I got back to the lab, Foreman looked for the file in my hand, and not seeing it, he was about to ask where it was, but he looked at my face and started asking me if I was OK.
"Cameron, seriously. You're as white as a sheet. Are you sure you're OK? I can go get you a Coke or something."
"Sure, thanks Foreman. I guess I'm a little hypoglycemic. Diet Coke, please?"
He nodded and left, clapping me on the shoulder on his way out.
I sat there in the lab with my head between my knees, trying to block out what I'd just seen. Chase's behavior showed the classic signs of submission, but...during Differentials, when he was debating with Foreman and me, he was always so, so...well, almost arrogantly dominant in asserting his opinions.
Foreman came back and handed me the can of Diet Coke he'd gotten me. I cracked it open and raised it to him in a small toast. After taking a few sips, I said "I'm going to actually go get the file this time, OK?" He laughed and agreed.
As I retraced my steps, I prayed I wouldn't find them in the same positions that I'd left them. And apparently, Fortune was favoring me this time. House was in his office, listening to his iPod with his headphones on, oblivious to the world. Chase was in the conference room, doing a crossword puzzle, ignoring both of us.
I reached across the table like I was going to grab the file, but at the last minute, grabbed Chase's wrist instead. His head jerked up and he looked at me, startled.
"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. Just nod or shake your head, OK? House did this to you, didn't he?"
Nod.
"Has this been going on for a long time?"
Nod.
"How long?"
There was a long pause, and then: "About six months."
"Chase, why?! If he's been hurting you, why didn't you tell someone, anyone?"
Chase just looked at me, with that Look of his that he gives to people who annoy him. "I can't, Allison. It's not that simple. He'd-"
"He'd what? He'd hurt you? Chase, he's doing that already. You have to tell someone, Wilson, Cuddy, somebody!"
He opened his mouth like he was going to reply, closed it again, sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. "Cameron, really...it's not as bad as you think. Really, it's not."
I just raised an eyebrow at him, as if to say, Oh really?
"You're not going to drop this until I explain some of this to you, are you?" he asked, with an air of resignation.
"No, probably not" I replied. "Chase...I just want to help. Tell me what's going on."
He sighed again. "As you know, House has a very...dominant personality. We'll have to agree on that, because it ties heavily into the story, OK?"
I nodded, motioning him to go on.
"After I told you guys about being with the girl who liked to be burned...I guess he figured I was into the S&M kind of thing, but I didn't know that when he invited me over to his place one night. We were having a drink, and the next thing I knew...he was kissing me. Rough, he bit one of my lips hard enough to draw blood. One thing led to another...we wound up in bed together." He gave a small half-smile. "Like I said...he's got a very dominant personality."
I could feel my eyes widening from shock and horror. "And he forced you to be his submissive?! Chase, that's not only immoral, I'm pretty sure it's illegal!"
"Allison, seriously...it's not as bad as you're making it sound! Why else would I be kissing House's ass all the time, even before we were together? It explains a lot of things, actually."
I shook my head. He was refusing to reason, which was really unlike him. "Chase, this can't be healthy for you. If I wasn't afraid of getting fired and/or murdered, I'd give House a piece of my mind!"
He looked angry for the first time right then. He grabbed me by the arm, and turned me to face him. "You listen to me, Allison Cameron. You may be the patron saint of the weak and helpless, but I'm neither of those things. Just...keep your nose out of my business, and everything will be OK."
I shook myself loose from his death grip and pushed my hair out of my face. "Fine, Robert Chase. Fine. I just hope this doesn't end up leading you down the path to your own self-destruction."
And with that final comment, I left the conference room, file in hand.
I just hope that Chase can find the salvation he so desperately seems to want.
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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