dr_robchase | (no subject)

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By now, six years and counting, Chase should have been ready for whatever he had to come up against. He should have been expecting the worst and thought -- stupidly, stupidly thought -- that whatever this place had for him, it couldn't be worse than what he'd already lived through. It was bad enough to see both your parents leave you again (whether by death or disappearance), bad enough to have a near-death experience, to constantly lose everyone you ever loved, but the one thing this place had never done was take him back to the harrowing moments he had growing up.

At least, not until today.

He'd been downstairs, in Gwen's old room, trying to figure out whether they could shift the space around. One moment, it was the spare room with its dusty floors and the empty bed. He blinked, only closed his eyes for a second, but when he opened them, he knew that smell. He knew the feeling of being closed in, and he swore he could even smell the faint aroma of gin in the air. Chase felt a sick lurching in his stomach.

"No," he begged, terrified that he was right back to where it all started.

What if, behind this door, his mother was drinking herself into a stupor. What if his father has left for months? What if he finds his baby sister, what if -- what if what if. Chase slams both palms against the door, feeling a stricken with panic as memories filter back and he remembers, all too well, the begging and the shouting and the pleading he did to get out of this room. The books were the same, the leather armchair still had the cigar burn in the arm, and the carpet had that same old musty smell from too many glasses of scotch and gin spilled on it.

"Let me out!" he shouted, his voice catching. "Let me out of here! Let me..." he trails off, a weak and frustrated exhalation of 'Mum, please' on his breath before he slams his palms harder against the locked door, struggling with the antiquated copper knob.

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The Doctor gave Chase a long look, even if Chase wasn't looking at him. He lifted both brows. "I would have run," he said. "You know that. Terrible of me, but I would."

"So, at least we're peas in a pod when it comes to that." And the proof of Chase's cowardice was evident from one singular look at the passport. The day he ran from Australia was the last time he went back home. He returned, but never for anything other than frivolous trips to surf. It was easy to ignore his past if he buried himself in something else. "Can't run here, though."

The Doctor wouldn't have called it cowardice. Not him. He would have called it good sense. He sat for a moment, then said, "That's why you need to sit down with someone, really."

"I know," Chase admitted after a long moment. It was hard to say it, and it was harder to know that he was a little bit in trouble because of his past. "And I suppose House doesn't count?"

The Doctor merely gave him a look that implied that this was too ridiculous a question to even ask. "House will just tell you you're being stupid," he said, "in even nastier a way than that, possibly involving the word 'retarded' and definitely involving fucking as an adjective. No. He doesn't count."

"Fine, not House," Chase said with a roll of his eyes, even though he felt like at least House knew the whole story. He wouldn't have to explain, in depth, his whole history. There was a sort of convenience and relief in that, but he didn't want to say that aloud.

"House already has an opinion about things," said the Doctor, "and he's probably one of the worst choices for therapists on this island to begin with, unless you need your arse kicked into quitting something stupid." He lifted a brow at Chase, nearly daring him to disagree.

"He did get me to stop drinking as much as I was," Chase said, but mostly because he knew a part of him was still spoiling for a fight. "No, you're right. I'm sorry. I should talk to Will or Wanda. I'll try and make an appointment the next time I'm in the office."

"See 'arse kicked into quitting something stupid'," the Doctor said, not particularly offended or taking the bait. He knew Chase too well for that. Instead, he added, "If you don't make an appointment, I'll book one for you, you know. I'm that kind of sneaky."

"You are kind of sneaky," Chase agreed with a hint of a smile on his face -- the first uplifting moment he'd felt since he wandered into this room. "I should've known marrying an alien would get me involved in all kinds of spy-like trickery."

"Oh, come on, it has nothing to do with my being an alien and everything to do with my being badass," said the Doctor, leaning in to kiss Chase's temple in a not-particularly-badass way.

Chase made a small noise that made it sound like he doubted the veracity of something like that, but he relented, leaning over and wrapping his arms around the Doctor's waist. "Want to see if Nate wants to keep anything in here before I find new homes for all of it?"

"Sure," said the Doctor, half-kidding, "though I don't know what he'd do with Grey's Anatomy at this point in his life. It might scare him, later on he might get some use from it."

"What, you don't want him to follow in our footsteps and become a doctor?" It was a weak joke, at best, but he still smirked like he was proud of it. "If in name only. You ever wonder if he'll ask to take that on as a name?"

"Maybe. Though, for a surname?" The Doctor lifted an eyebrow, then snorted a laugh. "More like he'd study for his own PhD...sooner or later someone will come along who can handle teaching that level of university education."

"You can," Chase pointed out, fairly straightforward as far as he was concerned. "You can handle that level and then some. Actually," Chase said, giving the Doctor a curious look. "Why don't you put together some kind of university program? You'd be great at it."

The Doctor opened his mouth to say no, then looked at Chase for a moment, then closed it, then looked at Chase some more, eyebrows slowly lifting.

It was as if one could literally hear the cogs turning. Apparently Chase still hadn't learned not to give the Doctor ideas.

Chase shot the Doctor a confused look, not sure why there was no talking going on. "Okay, what'd I do? What'd I say? You're doing what House did when we assaulted him with random words and suddenly he had an epiphany," he said warily.

"A university is a brilliant idea," said the Doctor, lighting up with a bright smile. "We already train doctors and therapists. Why can't we help other people with higher education? There must be interest."

He realised he might get flack for there being nowhere to really USE this kind of education on the island, but those people could piss off.

"Well," Chase replied, unable to find a reason to not do that. "Then, why not?" he said, when he kept looking for a reason to say 'no' and there were only reasons to encourage. "You're old enough to be a Dean," he deadpanned. "Like, nine times over."

"You have to be old to be a dean?" asked the Doctor, looking slightly boggled. He'd have to tell that to Dean Sharox of the Tenth Sector, if he ever saw hir again. "But I don't know everything about everything, Rob. It's not as if I could teach someone who wanted to know about pedagogy or clothing design or anything beyond the basic engineering in architecture."

"I don't know," Chase replied, a bit boggled at the concept that he hadn't really given much adequate thought to. "I always assumed that deans had to be old because of the necessary life experience that went along with the job. My deans always seemed ancient and decrepit."

"Huh." The Doctor held his hands out to look at them, confused. "Do I seem decrepit?" he asked, rather worried about all of this in perfect honesty.

"You are nearing a thousand," Chase felt compelled to point out with a shrug. "I mean, I know the wrinkles are taking some time in catching up--" And here, the smug smirk is starting to show up, a sign that his mood is finally picking up. "--but they won't stay away forever."

The Doctor stuck his tongue out at Chase in response. He hadn't meant to do it as a 'I am young so there' thing, but it did come out that way regardless. And also as a 'don't be mean to me' thing. And stuff.

"See who gets to sleep in the other spare bedroom."