Fandom: House/CSI NY
Pairing: Robert Chase/Lindsay Monroe
Challenge: 1sentence, theme set Delta
Summary: N/A. It's 50 sentences of Chase/Lindsay.
Author's notes: They're not in chronological order, neither of the time scales of the shows fit together, I couldn't get Lindsay's scarred hands in, and bits are unforgivably mushy. But on the whole, they're not bad.
Written more as crack for myself than anything else
Sometimes Lindsay feels so crazy and so confused and so out of control (a side of her that she keeps in a box that she tries not to release) that it’s all she can do to cling to Robert and trust him to breathe for the both of them.
It’s not so much the joy of eating fruit (way overrated in Chase’s opinion) as the joy of watching Lindsay chewing the ‘forbidden’ fruit in as erotic a way as she can manage, the sunlight glinting off her hair and a wicked smile on her face.
The shoes were the first thing he noticed about her, which was maybe a little odd, but Robert had lost the ability to meet people’s eyes about a week ago- that having been the time he’d first arrived in America.
Lindsay laughs at the endless teasing she gets from Mac and Danny but she laughs hardest when Robert shrieks down the phone line “You ate what?!”
When they’re at work, they both drink far too many americanos and lattés and cups straight from the coffee-maker to keep themselves awake, but Robert knows that Lindsay’s far better at waking him up than any caffeine could be.
The way Robert sees it, the daylight is for everyone, when Lindsay has friends and a job and they go to dinner in public places and so on, but at night, with all the lights in her apartment off- that’s when Lindsay is his, and his alone, and Robert lives for those times, because he has so very few things that belong to him any more.
There’s something about that smile that made Robert think that Lindsay was always happy, but all it took was one visit after a painfully long week when she just clung to him and sobbed like no one would ever be able to fix her to convince him that she was just as capable of desolation as anyone else.
Robert will not think that it’s a door between them, a barrier as simple as that, with him on one side and Lindsay on the other side refusing to let him in, because he knows that she’s angry and he’s angry with himself too, and the barrier has to be so much greater than an inch of wood, because he just can’t get it to break.
It’s Wilson who finds the ring in Chase’s coat pocket, and insists on taking him out for a beer just so that he can check that Chase knows exactly what he’s getting into, but Robert tells him simply that he loves Lindsay and he’s willing to take that chance.
Perhaps it would be easier for them to be together all the time, move to a different city instead of this long-distance thing, but Chase has his job at the hospital and Lindsay has her job in the crime lab and neither of them will shirk their responsibilities for anything, not even love.
Lindsay isn’t sure how Robert got hurt, or even why- but all she knows is that he’s lying in a hospital bed and looking so, so damaged, so she slips her fingers though his and tells him that there’s nothing on Earth that will keep her away from him again, nothing at all, and dares Dr House to make one sarcastic comment, but he seems to be struck momentarily silent.
His girlfriend is extremely beautiful and Chase knows that she’s exactly Wilson’s type, and Wilson may be the Casanova but Chase is the one with Lindsay, and so he waits patiently for the apocalypse to arrive and his little period of happiness to stop.
Lindsay strokes her fingers down Robert’s shoulder-blades, the places where his wings must have been before circumstances clipped them, and in a kiss tells him that no matter how far he plummets she’ll always do her best to catch him.
Robert tells Lindsay about Katrina late one night; she used to like him to burn her, and Lindsay looks at him for a long time with her head on one side before asking him whether he’d like to try it.
Robert has to be supple, the way that he bends himself to fit everyone else’s expectations and moulds, and Lindsay begs him once to do what he wants for a change, before he snaps and breaks.
From time to time Robert will compare himself to Icarus, forever reaching for her and her smile like the sun, but Lindsay always corrects him and tells him that she’s perfectly attainable, that she loves him whether he’s borrowed a pair of wings or not.
It’s quickly established that neither of them can cook, and neither of them have the time to learn either, but Lindsay never wanted to eat anything other than toast anyway, and Robert doesn’t mind what he eats as long as he’s got Lindsay’s kisses for dessert.
“Sometimes I don’t know why I’m still with you,” Chase shouts during an argument, and Lindsay screams back “Because I’m all you’ve got”, and she might only be a foot away but it feels so much further.
Robert is grateful when Lindsay accompanies him back to Australia for his annual visit to his mother’s grave, and is even more grateful when he’s crying and she just holds him and reminds him that yes; he does have something to live for.
There’s blood all over his favourite shirt that sprayed there from a trauma and Robert is feeling very dejected about it, at least until Lindsay unbuttons it and kisses him, admitting that the colour never did very much for him anyway.
They were together for three months before Robert left for New Jersey, and Lindsay miserably thought that that would be it; but he called her two days after he arrived and told her that he couldn’t get her out of his head, and she laughed and told him she knew exactly what he meant.
All it takes are three little words- my father died- in the most hollow and empty voice she’s ever heard, and Lindsay’s driving to New Jersey like all the hounds of hell are after her, in the vain hope that she’ll be enough to fill him up with some happiness.
His mother, his father, his ex-girlfriends and Princeton/Plainsboro Teaching Hospital have just about convinced Chase that he’s a bad, bad person, but when Lindsay sleeps with her head buried in his shoulder and her hand flat against his chest and strands of her hair tremble with every breath he takes, Robert feels downright respectable, because if he’s good enough for her then he can’t be as terrible as everyone thinks he is.
Chase gave up on religion a long time ago, but the occasional prayer passes his lips; that he’ll have the strength to carry on even through times of adversity; that House will just shut up from time to time; that he’ll be able to save as many people as possible; and that Lindsay will never, ever have cause to stop smiling.
In a world that’s seemingly full of House’s cruel jibes at his appearance, family and copious mistakes, Foreman’s cool apathy, Cameron’s blue eyes and Cuddy’s vague authority, Lindsay is the one guiding light that makes Chase think perhaps that the whole thing isn’t quite worth giving up on.
Lindsay tries and tries to convince him that she isn’t going anywhere, because she loves him, but she’s only too aware that Robert’s lost everyone he ever cared about, so she doesn’t mind as much as she could when he doesn’t believe her.
It’s only a cylinder of metal, less than an inch long, but it’s enough to stop her breathing and it’s enough to take her where Robert just can’t follow her, and when the crime lab are finished with it, he asks if he can keep the bullet, a constant reminder of the price of complete happiness.
Robert’s not quite stupid enough to think that being around Lindsay makes him an entirely different person, if only because he’s tried to change enough times and it’s never worked, but he does feel like he’s altered, just a little bit, because he’s never dared to love anyone quite this much before, and now he’s flying completely blind.
“How was your day?” Robert asks her on the phone, and Lindsay twirls a strand of hair around her finger as she explains about three murders she’s been investigating, each with an unlikely and disgusting method of killing, and laughs when she hears Robert gasp because for her, it’s same old, same old.
Everything spends a lot of time being out of control, with people dying in increasingly horrific ways and Lindsay can’t escape from it, not ever; but lying in bed with Robert, with her head on his chest (listening to him breathe) creates a sort of equilibrium that can last for days.
Five minutes before the wedding, Mac takes Chase aside and informs him that if he hurts Lindsay, even a tiny bit, he knows hundreds of ways to kill him, and Chase simply smiles, because Danny’s already informed him he’ll tip arsenic in his champagne if Lindsay looks even the slightest bit dejected, and over Mac’s shoulder he can see Flack making his way over to deliver the same warning.
They all refused to believe that Chase had a girlfriend in New York, and House realises he’s paid dearly for that assumption when Chase introduces an incredibly pretty woman to them all, revelling in the surprise painted across their faces.
It was raining when they first met, and Robert wasn’t dressed for it because he was new to America (staying in New York for a couple of months while he worked out what he wanted to do next) and Lindsay took pity on him and told him he could share her umbrella; by the time the storm had finished his telephone number was in her back pocket and she’d extracted a promise from him that he’d wear a decent coat when he took her out to dinner.
The last time they break up, officially, Danny takes her for a drink and offers her a shoulder to cry on, which she accepts with slight embarrassment, and he asks her if she’s sorry that she let Robert Chase break her heart, and Lindsay shakes her head and says she won’t regret any second of it.
The pink roses are already sitting on her desk when she gets into work, and while Danny is singing “Montana’s got a boyfriend”, Lindsay is reading the card that says, simply, tonight, and blushing the same colour as the flowers.
“Why Chase?” Dr House asks incredulously the first time Lindsay meets him, and she shrugs and refuses to tell him exactly what it is about his blue-eyed, blonde-haired fellow that she likes so very much.
Robert recounts his day down the phone, all about a patient who’d apparently been bitten by a snake and he had to go and track it down and then it turned out that the snake actually had nothing to do with it, and Lindsay laughs in all the right places, which is enough to make all his frustration melt away.
There’s white snowflakes in her hair the first time they argue, and when she asks him why he’s being such an asshole, Robert replies that maybe it’s because he’s in love with her, and they stand in absolute silence looking at each other trying to work out where they’re supposed to go next.
They both deal with death, all the time, and sometimes it takes its toll, and really, all Lindsay wants is to thread her fingers through Robert’s and feel that he’s there, that he’s real, that he’s so very alive, but he’s so far away at the end of the phoneline that she actually hurts more when she calls him than she did beforehand.
April, for Cameron, means her birthday and the start of flower buds and so on, and for House it is just another month, and for Wilson it is a whole new season to try and repair his marriage, and for Mac it is the start of heat creeping its way up through the pavements and for Danny it is the chance to flirt with women in early summer wear, but for Chase and Lindsay it is their one year anniversary and neither of them will admit how terrified they are.
It always amazes Lindsay how strong his hands are on the rare, rare occasions she sees him working; his hands never shake, no matter how much blood surrounds him, no matter how cyanotic the patient is, no matter what the odds are, and she feels so much pride and so much awe that she’ll never be able to tell him.
Their eyes met over the dead body on the pavement, and it might seem like a weird way to ask for a date, but when they look back at that moment later, they both agree that there was no other way it could have gone.
Summer in the city and the temperature exceeds what anyone can actually stand, and a telephone call to Robert may not cool her down but it does change the heat to a considerably more pleasurable kind.
Some days are harder than others and every dead body she ever sees stays behind her eyes, somewhere inside, and once she asks Robert if it’s the same for him; he looks at her for a long time before saying yes, and she realises it must be worse for him, because when he sees a dead body it’s usually his fault, and they silently agree never to bring this up again.
Life is ugly and Chase fails over and over again, stumbling at various hurdles until his ankles are dangerously bruised, but all it takes is one phone call to Lindsay to make him feel that maybe everything actually will be all right.
They say that all’s fair in love and war, so Robert really hopes that something’s going right in a war zone somewhere, because Lindsay’s walking away from him for the last time, and that seems anything but fair.
They share a bath in his apartment and are in there so long that the bubbles disappear and Robert can’t remember when he was last this happy, Lindsay’s bedraggled hair tangling around his fingers as they kiss and the water reflects the candle light like rivers of gold surrounding them both.
“Welcome home,” Robert whispers, taking his hands away from Lindsay’s eyes, and she looks around at the new apartment he’s bought for them, before pulling his mouth down to kiss her, because she’ll never say it, but wherever he is, she’s home.
Chase pulls his coat tighter around him and pretends that he can’t hear that final click of the phone being put down, because he can feel Lindsay’s words running through every inch of him (“I’m so sorry Robert, but I’ve met someone else…”), and he’s never felt more alone or more cold or more lost or more desolate.
Chase is on the phone to Lindsay, flushing a lovely shade of pink, and Cameron and Foreman watch him through the glass, smirking at how happy he looks, because, as Foreman says, they always thought he was made of wood, incapable of feeling anything.