theorized | rolling dice and staying out 'til three.

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molly stearns

rolling dice and staying out 'til three.

There was once a period of time, shortly before Chase married Allison, where he'd let himself go a little where looks were concerned. Styling his hair, shaving every single day, these were things he did when it was necessary to keep up appearances, when he didn't have a reputation to fall back on, and when decisions could be affected by the way he dressed or held himself. When most of his time was spent at an operating table, these things mattered less. When he was married, with a woman whom he believed loved him, and in most ways beyond the superficial, he didn't need to hold himself to an artificially high standard.

He regressed shortly after their separation, kept himself clean and proper, something more routine than before. All the way up to Darrow, and the unfamiliar space he needed to learn to navigate from the first step.

It's been nearly a year since he first arrived, and he almost got to the point of relaxing. If he went a day without applying mousse in his hair, it didn't matter. If he went a couple of days without shaving, it didn't matter. The people he surrounded himself with, the job that he'd sunk his teeth into, all of it was comfortable in a way that he never quite fully accepted, but accepted enough.

With one disappearance, all of that faded, and now Chase feels like he's walking a tightrope again. It's the reason why he returns to his apartment more often these days, the reason why he hasn't called most people or offered to hang out.

It's the reason why he finds himself standing in front of a church, considering more than ever the option of stepping inside.

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When she first arrived in Darrow, when the city was still empty and she had no way of knowing if the doors would even be unlocked, Molly used to walk this way frequently, usually keeping across the street from the church, staring without ever going inside. That changed when it was the one safe place during an honest to goodness monster attack, the three days she spent inside ridding her of any hesitation she might have had. Now, she goes in often — always for a service, but other times, too, when it's nearly empty. She isn't sure if her prayers will do any good, but it's worth a shot.

As she makes her way up the block, she isn't expecting to see Chase standing outside, fleetingly grateful that she isn't in the same kind of state she was the last time their paths crossed near here. As she gets closer, though, she has to wonder what this is about, and she heads to his side as she would anyway, nudging him lightly in the arm. "Hey," she says. "Been a while."

He turns on his smile without delay; her voice registers as familiar before her hair does. The latter is soon what he notices, though, with the aid of the sun, rays bright against the waves. Today, the city finds itself in the sort of weather that Chase should be enjoying. He used to find himself in the midst of so much sun in the summer months, taking advantage of the heat and heading directly for the beach, surfing until his muscles ached. New Jersey and Darrow haven't afforded him the same luxury, but the sunny days are still great for lifting his mood.

"Hey," he replies on an exhale, reaching out for a single-armed hug. "Been a while, indeed. I've been a bit of a hermit lately. But how are you?"

Even though her expression is inquisitive, Chase finds himself longing for distraction.

"Busy as ever," Molly replies, mouth pulling into a little more of a smile as she returns the brief embrace. "Which probably has something to do with your being hermit-y, too, I guess." She didn't know a whole lot of doctors before him, but it's not like it's any secret, how draining and demanding a job it can be, one way in which it doesn't differ much from politics at all. She's just careful, most of the time, not to fall into it the way she always saw her dad do. "It's good to see you."

"Not a bad guess, but an incorrect one this time around," Chase admits quietly, lips pulling briefly into a smile. There's really no point in hiding what's happened from Molly, even though he'd rather not do anything that draws out an unreasonable amount of sympathy, to the point where it borders on pity. Thankfully, he thinks that of all the people he's befriended here in Darrow, Molly's among those who are least likely to be overbearing with affection.

Besides, he can't imagine that Natalia would like the idea of him being rendered incapable of her absence, and he can't imagine House letting him live it down if or once he notices.

"The woman I was seeing, Natalia, she's vanished from Darrow. Willingly or otherwise, I'm not sure, but it's required somewhat of an adjustment."

"Oh." Molly's expression shifts at that, more unguarded than she means it to be — nothing overbearing with sadness on his behalf, but simple understanding. That shouldn't be the case, she knows. There shouldn't be anything remotely comparable in the one noteworthy loss she's gone through here. At least, that's what she's spent a good half a year trying to tell herself. Hearing that from Chase, though, she isn't quite so sure. There'd be no reason to have such an instinctive reaction otherwise.

It doesn't much matter either way, she thinks, when she has no intention of talking about Stephen, especially when he's much more recently lost someone he was actually in a relationship with. Drawing in a deep breath, she rests a hand against his arm, saying simply, "I'm sorry. That... sounds like it would, yeah."

Maybe it makes him sound cold, Chase thinks to himself, that he's able to keep himself this emotionally distant when talking about Natalia's disappearance. Then again, there's a lot about being a doctor that requires some degree of separation from the emotional, and Chase, he hasn't always been the best about maintaining that. He caves when his colleagues wouldn't. He listens to their stories and cares just a little when there are things that speak to him on a personal level. He always watches after kids.

That's the one constant rule — he always watches after kids.

But compared to everything else, this just doesn't feel like something he should openly mourn. He misses her, of course he does, but it isn't a death and there's no proof that where Natalia is now is any worse than Darrow. Moping would just keep him away from what time he still has with those around him. So he reaches down for Molly's hand, squeezing it briefly with a soft smile.

"No, don't be sorry. I don't think she was the type of woman to keep caged in a city for long," Chase says, shaking his head minutely. "I do wish we knew where people went after here, though. That's my biggest source of unease, the... not knowing."

Molly nods slowly, though that's one problem she's never had. Oh, she worries, more than she cares to let on to most people, well-hidden behind smiles and warmth until it isn't anymore. About that, though, she's never been too concerned, largely because it's always seemed to her somewhat self-explanatory. You're here until you're not; you go back to your own world, pick up where you left off, unless you're like her and you haven't anywhere else to go, and then you're probably just fucking dead, like you're supposed to be. She's heard things, of course, mentions of a place that's similar, but it would be wishful thinking to hold on to that, too unlikely.

Somewhere, Stephen is running a campaign, getting someone neither of them can stand elected, and her body is six feet underground, and if she's lucky — if he is — no one else will ever know why. It's the life he should have had. It's the life she should have had, too, but she doesn't think much of that. At least she has one at all.

"I'm not sure what there is," she admits, fingers curling lightly around his with the sort of casual, easy affection she's never needed to think about. "I mean — I've always thought people just go home. But I know what you mean. It's weird."

People going home. People passing into the afterlife. Even the entire construct of Heaven as Chase has known it since youth — all of these things share one core theme, that of comfort, and even in spite of Chase having sought the easiest route for so long, there's something about faith that doesn't allow him to go where gravity takes him. To someone simply seeking structure and unconditional understanding, staying in seminary school would have made sense. But Robert Chase doesn't entirely believe in the power of prayer — he hopes, he always hopes, and he is disciplined — and he doesn't entirely believe in the idea that he'll be let off the hook at the end of his life.

It's being trapped between a rock and a hard place, and not being able to stop at either.

Is there a point in dislodging someone else's beliefs? Probably not. Chase has never been out to decry any type of reasoning that doesn't align with his own — quite possibly the biggest ongoing difference between himself and House.

"Are we speaking from experience?" Chase asks instead with a kinder expression, falling back on the usual plan of turning his concern at the other person. If he can't help himself, at least he might be able to help a friend.

It's about the last thing Molly is expecting, though she isn't sure why, except that she hardly sees how what's happened to her merits conversation when he's the one who just lost someone he was in a relationship. God knows that wasn't true of her and Stephen, though it's too often that she has to fall back on that line of thought. Only without him has she realized how much she cared for him, an uncomfortable thought in and of itself. Up until now, that's been all the more reason not to talk about him. Now, however out of place it might seem when he's the one who's really got someone to miss, she isn't sure that's still true. If nothing else, she can make clear that she really does get it, instead of just speaking from guesswork.

"There was a guy I was... sort of seeing, I guess, after I showed up here," she says, about as close to sheepish as she gets. "Someone I knew from home. He disappeared just a few months after." He'll be happier for it, too, she's sure. Though she can't think that without remembering how utterly thrilled he'd looked after that first City Hall meeting, talking about building from the ground up, his place is back with the campaign, she knows that. After all he did to stay with it, she probably shouldn't want to have it any other way. "So... a little experience, yeah."

Without being prompted, Chase's thoughts somehow go to that encounter they had months ago, the spill of medicine over the sidewalk, and he wonders if her upset over that had anything to do with this. If there's anything that seems to be true about the people Darrow brings in, it's that those who are from the same world seem to be intimately involved in some way or another. Even when he thinks of those in his own life, House is certainly one of the most influential individuals Chase has ever known, if not singlehandedly the one who's had the most impact over him in his adult years. Under House's tutelage, Chase figured out what it meant for him to be an adult, and where his terms lay.

But it's not a question he feels comfortable asking Molly, not when he remembers her panicked reaction.

"I'm sorry that you had someone you care for disappear," Chase says, his expression earnest and attentive. "Especially considering he was from your home. I imagine it must have been comforting to have a familiar face."

"Something like that," Molly says, nodding slowly. Comforting is hardly the first word that comes to mind when she thinks of Stephen, but if only because she's so far removed from whatever it is they were doing now, she isn't sure it's inaccurate, either. She'd have denied, then, that she had anything like feelings for him, but he's still who she went to after those fucking monsters attacked, and he stayed with her on her birthday. Losing him should have been a comfort in and of itself, when he was a constant reminder of how fucked up everything got at home, but really, the opposite wound up being true.

It's too much to try to explain, more than she likes to talk about. Besides, she's fine with it now, a lot more so than she once was. He got what she knows he wanted. Why the fuck should she be sad about that? "But, you know, it was a long time ago. Come on, you want to go for a drink or something? First round's on me."

Her words make clear enough the fact that Molly's situation was anything but simple. And they also seem to suggest the fact that she doesn't want to think about it too much right now. It's more than her right to close the conversation off in such a way, although Chase can't help wondering if it would help her more in the long run to talk about it, to share everything that happened, to make it somehow so that she isn't the only one shouldering the burden and not the only one able to give perspective on the matter. The problem is, he's not the type of person to push very often, not yet in this case.

But he certainly wants to keep a closer eye out for her.

"I'm sorry that I've been so absent," he says again, reaching an arm out more fully around her shoulders, tugging her close, pressing a long kiss to her temple and briefly threading his fingers through her hair. "I've been an awful excuse for a friend lately. But drinks sound like a great idea." He tilts his head to get a better look at her face. "You know that you have me to turn to if you need to talk, right? Or for anything else you need."

"You haven't been awful," Molly says, almost teasing, though the smile she directs up at him is nothing but warm and genuine. Absent, maybe, but there are worse things in the world to be than that, and in a way, she's used to it. Not like people who have others leave them at every turn, or who wind up with loved ones so distant that it takes a great toll on their lives, but it's just a fact of things, the way life often goes. Besides, it could be worse. It's not exactly like she was trying to get anything from him and having him not show up when he said he would.

Growing a little more serious, though, she nods, not about to try to downplay all of what he's said. "But yeah, I know. And I would. Go to you."

"Yes, I have. Completely neglectful. Although, if you ask..." Chase blows some air out from between his lips, eyes widening as he runs through the list in his head. "Hell, practically everyone I've been close to, they'll tell you that I'm a lazy arse who can't be bothered with very much outside of the hospital. And hitting on women at inopportune times," he adds with a slight tilt of his head, self-deprecating, even though truth be told, he feels... done, for a while, where relationships are concerned.

Ruffling Molly's hair, Chase starts to pivot the both of them in the direction of his favorite restaurant. "But I don't mind keeping you on speed dial. You sure I'm not taking you from something important by steering you away from church?"

It's not an unfamiliar description, all things considered. Swap out hospital for campaign, and it sounds just like most of the guys Molly's ever known, which is, maybe, why she doesn't see anything of note about it. Hell, it's not as if she's so great at keeping up with things outside of work, though she at least makes a point of doing somewhat better than that. Regardless, she isn't about to make too much of it. She's told him it's fine, and that's what matters.

"No, no, of course you're not," she says with an easy shake of her head, leaning in close as they head down the sidewalk. "I wouldn't have offered if you were. So where're we headed?"

"Italian?" Chase asks, brows lifting in the general direction of one of the smaller restaurants in the area, tucked away in the midst of a long line of larger chain restaurants. "Or there's a nice Korean barbecue place a couple of blocks down. I think I'm in the mood for something spicy, so those seem to be our best options. Provided you don't mind."

Grinning, they start to make their way down the street, for the moment not needing to pick between the two choices given their proximity. "You know, I'm not even sure what your favorite kind of cuisine is."

"Oh, I don't mind at all," Molly says with a slight shake of her head. "Spicy's fine. Either of those sound good, actually." She's never been especially picky, all the more in the time that's passed since going off to college, joining the campaign, and showing up here. Especially in the middle, she couldn't really afford to be. Now, it just works out well for her. "I can't say I really have a favorite. Usually whatever's not going to leave me broke."

"Then Italian it is," Chase says, simply of a mind to direct them to the closer place, not having enough of a preference to bother with the extra time it'd take to walk a couple more blocks. He appreciates spending time with someone who seems to be less picky than he is with venues, people who won't do their best to tear down the very foundation of a place as House does. Over the course of a decade, House had managed to worm that mentality into a lot of the people who worked for him.

Chase hopes that he doesn't have to be one of them.

"Especially since I'm covering dinner. And drinks. And I'm genuinely not doing that to brag in any way, it's just... I used to budget a great deal for traveling, and now that option's suddenly gone. I kind of miss the sensation of flying in a plane."

"Hey, you won't see me complaining," Molly says with a slight laugh, nudging him teasingly. There are plenty of people who would, she's sure, but she isn't and never has been one of them. Whether it's because she doesn't have nearly as much now as she was used to when she was growing up or because she doesn't have the kind of pride — ridiculous, honestly, in her opinion — that would make her want to cover anything herself, she doesn't know, but it makes no difference. Even when she tends to do a little better these days anyway, when she goes out with Patrick, anyway, she doesn't make that much money, and she trusts that he wouldn't be offering if he didn't want to, if he couldn't cover it. "I know what you mean, though. I was doing some traveling before I showed up, and... I didn't think I'd miss it, but I actually kind of do."

"I like having freedoms, even if I don't exercise them half the time, so I think part of it's that. I'd still be just as lazy about actually traveling if we had the ability, but not having it ends up bugging me twice as much," Chase explains, shaking his head at his own ridiculousness. If this place really is what he thinks it is, it's not like he's going to get benefits out of nowhere. It's not like he's done anything to deserve them. "Anyway, enough about that. What's been going on in your life? Work-wise? Or... personal life? Do you have time enough to date and things like that?"

"I wouldn't call it dating, per se," Molly says, mouth twisting to one side as she looks up at Chase. On anyone else, the look would probably be a self-conscious one, but she doesn't wear it as such; as far as she's concerned, there's no reason for her to feel that way about her love life. She might not ordinarily talk about it without prompting, but now that she's here, anyway, and now that Stephen is gone and she's therefore not fucking her boss, she has nothing to hide. "There are dates. But it's not, like... exclusive or anything." She shrugs. "But I guess that means I have enough time for it."

"See, I'd definitely call that dating, I'd just also say that you aren't in a relationship at this point in time," Chase says with a slightly cheeky grin. As far as he's concerned, it's good that Molly's still going out and having fun with people, showing that she has some balance of work and play in her life. She's young enough that she probably hasn't completely settled on the idea of her perfect partner, anyway — Chase certainly didn't know it at her age.

"Anyone in particular interest you a great deal? People I should run background checks on, or...?"

At least he seems understanding of it, Molly thinks, though she wouldn't really have expected anything different from him. She just also knows that a lot of people tend to be far too judgmental about that sort of thing. As far as she's concerned, though, she has nothing to be ashamed of. She's not breaking any commitment, she's careful, she's enjoying herself; those are the things that she believes matter most (if not necessarily in that order). If she were looking to settle down, she might be going about it a little differently, but she's not. She might as well have some fun while she can.

"No, no, no background checks," she says with a laugh. "I don't know about interest, anyway. There's the one guy, Patrick, I've gone on some dates with, but then..." Trailing off, she shrugs. "If anything, I think it's the ones I'm not dating who'd be more... consequential."

"Patrick," Chase says to himself, taking a couple of quick steps ahead to open the door for Molly, ushering her inside. He doesn't know anyone by the name, but given how long he tends to spend in the hospital, especially as of late, that doesn't come as a surprise to Chase. He does feel something almost like guilt, though. If there's anyone whose social circle he should be keeping aware of, it feels like Molly would be it. Not only because she's a friend, but... well, because he's come to think of her as family.

It's just that for the Chases, being family doesn't necessarily equate to being constantly around one another. Or even around one another every month.

Chase has always wanted to break that pattern.

"That name tells me absolutely nothing about him," he grins, shaking his head. "But wait, what do you mean by the ones you're not dating being more consequential?"

"I mean, like..." Molly bites her lip through a grin of her own, fumbling for the right wording. It isn't that she's overly concerned about how it will come across — if he were going to judge her for it, he would have already, and the way she sees it, that would be his problem, not hers — but she spends little enough time talking about this sort of thing that she isn't entirely certain of the best ways to put it. In her own head, it makes sense, but she hasn't had to give it that much consideration. "Kind of like a friends with benefits thing, I guess? I mean, I'm sleeping with my best friend here, but it's not romantic or anything. We're just having fun. But he's a lot more important to me than the guy taking me out on dates."

"Oh," Chase says, eyes widening in understanding, and he quickly nods to show both that and his relative support. He has a funny background with that type of situation, but it's not one that he minds other people having. It's not even one that he shies away from, himself, having made that proposition some years ago to Remy. Romance and physical intimacy don't always have to be bundled together, even though Chase came to the realization long ago that he was more the type of man who did put them together. Maybe a romantic at heart. Or maybe just overpackaged with emotion.

One way or another.

"I understand that, definitely. Had that type of arrangement more than once at work. You're sure that there's nothing more that might go on with that best friend, though? Because the last time I had a friend with benefits, we ended up getting married. ...and divorced, admittedly," he adds, slightly self-effacing with a smile.

"Oh, yeah, no, that's not — that's not gonna happen," Molly says with a slight laugh, shaking her head. It's more her own side of things that she's speaking about, of course, when she can't vouch for Russell, but she wouldn't be fucking him in the first place if she thought there were any chance of that. They're having fun, is all, and in no way that's preventing them from doing the same with other people. She's pretty sure he might be dating, too, actually, and she's more than fine with that. In her way, she loves him, but it's a platonic love; that much won't change. "Different sort of emotional attachment, you know?"

While he hasn't been one to judge sexual relationships for years, there's still little insight or advice that he can personally offer Molly, being someone who certainly did end up growing too attached through a relationship meant only to be sexual. In this way, he wonders if he's supposed to feel a bit childish, emotionally attached to everything and everyone, given enough time.

But he's learned not to fight it.

"I'll have to take your word for it," he grins, holding up two fingers for the greeter, who directs them towards the back of the restaurant. "I think everything tends to get a bit muddled in my head, unless I'm working."

"Fair enough," Molly says with a shrug, following along as they're led further back into the restaurant. Much like she'd hoped he wouldn't judge her for her choices, she isn't going to cast any judgments of her own. If anything, she thinks what he's explaining is probably more understandable, or at least what happens with more frequency. She doesn't mind that, though. What she does works for her, and Chase has clearly found what works for him. As long as they aren't pretending anything else is the case, there's no reason for it to matter. "Work can be good for that."

"Work... makes the stakes higher. And my first priority isn't myself in the hospital, unlike almost any other time of day," Chase remarks with a small grin and a shrug, nodding his thanks to the server as they're seated, glasses immediately being filled with ice water. With the temperature having been fairly warm outside, Chase reaches out for his, taking a deep sip. "I guess that's part of why I like it so much. You can't really second-guess what you're there to do. You're being paid to take care of the people first and foremost. Now, getting there, that's another story entirely."

"Yeah," Molly says, brow raising. "I think I get what you mean." It wouldn't even begin to be the case for everyone, she knows, where her own field is concerned, given the number of people that she suspects go into politics more to feed their ego than anything else, but as far as she's concerned, it's always been about the greater good. It's just in a much less direct way, broad instead of specific, not nearly so hands-on. She could never in a million years do what he does. She finds other ways of making a difference instead. "And when it's something you're that devoted to, it's... easy to get lost in it."

"Easier as time goes on, anyway," Chase replies, grinning and shaking his head at himself as he thinks about his own progression through medicine. "When I started working under my boss about a decade ago, I was probably the laziest diagnostician you'd ever meet. I was good enough at my job, but I fell into this habit of figuring that I could work smart rather than hard, which probably spared me some worry lines, but after a while you find that you can't straddle that area unless you don't mind stagnating, career-wise. There's always someone out there who's going to try to beat you out of your job. No one has it easy."

"Oh, God, tell me about it," Molly says, head tipping back slightly. Before this place, she never had the chance to get far enough to be a part of that battle herself, but she's been witnessing the cutthroat world of politics for as long as she can remember, another instance where that's the case. Here, she got her start easily enough, but she's had to fight to keep it, to prove her worth, to begin working her way up the ladder. She doesn't intend to let up for a second. "People will do just about anything to try to get ahead. Even if they have to step on other people to do so."

He orders a bottle of red wine for the both of them, something likely to match the rest of the fare in the restaurant, then lets his gaze linger a bit longer on Molly. He likes that she isn't naive like some people are at that age, even though it's always a question of whether or not the steps that lead a person to that place were ultimately worth it. One thing's for sure, though — Chase is long past that naivete himself, and between being unable to keep quiet when it's in front of his eyes and wanting to preserve something of innocence in others, he generally gives those people a wide berth.

"Have you ever done something like that? Step on other people to climb the ladder?" Chase asks, tilting his head in interest.

Though it's probably not the most appropriate response to a question like that, given her own history, Molly smiles a little at that, shaking her head. "No, no," she says. "At least, not on purpose." There's a difference, she thinks, between making the most of a situation and making someone else a casualty. The first, anyone would do. The latter just isn't the way she chooses to work, even if it means she has to try harder to defend herself against it. "But when you've been stepped on, you kind of learn a lot about all of that."

"That you do," Chase says with a wry nod, lips curved at the thought of what he's done in the past. Nothing serious in the grand scheme of things, but definitely enough to know that the consequences often feel worse than any gains. Especially when Gregory House wasn't the type of person who rewarded ladder-climbing when he saw it in front of him.

But that isn't a story that Chase wants to share over dinner, especially so shortly after he's finally decided to make himself available for socializing again.

"Anyway, shall we order?"

"Yeah, let's do that," Molly says with a nod, smiling over at him. It's a little relieving, honestly, that there are no further questions asked about it than that. The subject is one she's come to terms with somewhat since showing up here, especially for the knowledge that what she'd first thought happened actually didn't, but that doesn't mean it's at all pleasant to recount. Besides, even if she left names and details out of it, it would be a strange turn of conversation when she's just mentioned Stephen in a totally different light. She isn't angry that he capitalized on her death — fuck, if anything, she's grateful, certain that he'll make sure it wasn't for nothing — but it wouldn't sound good, she's sure. "I think I know what I want, how about you?"

"I always look to the gnocchi first," Chase says with a hard sigh, glancing down at the items on the menu, letting down some of the tension in his body as he does so. Just because it's been a long day and the next should prove to be just as tiring doesn't mean that he can't enjoy the time that he does have off. "And I'm definitely not saying that as a gourmet, either. If anything, I am pretty sure that the only reason why I look for gnocchi first is because I like saying the word so much. Gnocchi... maybe with some type of red sauce tonight."

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rolling dice and staying out 'til three.

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