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Summary: House/Angel Cordy and Chase are cousins in this fic. Cordy remembers what life was like growing up with Chase as she watches him mourn after he finds out that she's dead.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Television > House, M.D. > Cordelia-CenteredshadowtricksterFR1312,554052,00717 Mar 0717 Mar 07Yes
Hey! This story marks a bunch of firsts for me. First crossover, first House fic. So please, go easy on me and please read and review!

Summary: Cordelia and Robert Chase are cousins. From, Cordy’s PoV, she remembers what life with him was like while watching him after he has just found out that she’s dead.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to House or to Angel.


You see, I haven't seen him in years.

So that's your answer, if you're asking me why I'm stalking him. Well not stalking per se. Just...


Besides, it's not like I can do anything to him. Stalkers are obsessed with their victims and I'm not. Stalkers tend to hurt the people they're after; In case you haven't noticed, I'm incorporeal.

I'm a spirit.

Which would mean I'm dead.

If you ask me, I think he's figured it out too.

He's putting down the phone now; He looks pretty shocked. Pretty upset. Now he's running a hand through his messy blonde hair, the one I braided a long time ago.

A lifetime ago.

Bet you never knew that huh? He'd stolen my Barbie doll and there was no way I was taking that lying down.

Even when I was 6, I'm guessing you could say I already had some spunk in me.

I'm Cordelia Chase.

He's Robert Chase.

What's that you say? Ew, no! We did not use to be married! We were not childhood sweethearts, if that's what you're thinking after me sharing my Barbie doll anecdote.

He's my cousin.

Wow, pretty big revelation, Cordelia. Seriously, that's gonna be on the front pages of the tabloids for months to come.

If I were Angelina Jolie and you'd just discovered that... Kevin Federline was my cousin.

I think I better stop with the pop culture references huh?

Anyway, I'm watching him again. He's fixing his files and folders; they're all lying around the room. Now he's sitting down on the couch, nursing a beer he got from the kitchen around 5 minutes ago.

Spirit or not, I can only watch. I don't know what he's thinking about.

Why am I so important to him you ask? I mean, I was just his cousin right?

When we were kids, we were more than cousins to one another.

We were each other's best friend, confidante, playmate and family.

I knew him better than anyone and he knew me better than anyone else.

Family. Ours was pretty screwed up and as far as we could see, we were the only normal ones around.

My dad and his dad, Uncle Rowan, were brothers. Were in the sense that Uncle Rowan just died of cancer a couple months ago.

Which is why my dear cousin looks like someone killed not one, but two of his beloved puppies.

Everyone around him thinks that he hated his dad; What they don't understand is that there's a difference between hating someone and simply not caring.

But anyway, I'm straying from the topic.

So going back, my dad and Uncle Rowan were brothers. My dad was a businessman and Uncle Rowan was a world-renowned doctor (I've forgotten what he specializes in; it was such a long time ago and I hope you'll understand.)


World-renowned doctor.

Don't both jobs just scream "Won't Have Enough Time To be With The Wife and The Kid/s"?

Of course, I'm not saying that all businessmen and doctors around the world are like that. Just the Chases. No matter what job we find ourselves in, you'll always find a lot of passion, determination, drive and hard work.

Like Robert is and I was when it comes to saving lives. He did it medically and I did it by killing the new demon of the week and by saving the world from apocalypses.

Both of our dads knew that fact and came upon a supposedly brilliant solution; Why not put both our families together under one roof so that they can take care of each other and so that we can do more work?

Uncle Rowan decided that for the next few years, Robert and his mom would live with my mom and me in good ol' Sunnydale, California.

Anyways, his work was mostly based here in the States and it would be much harder for my family to move all the way to Australia.

Which is how at the very young age of 2, yours truly and Robert Chase began a relationship based on whether Barney or Sesame Street was funner to watch, which type of baby food did we both hate and eventually spat out of our mouths and which toys in one's toy box were considered off limits to one another.

Ah yes, the good old days.

That's the advantage with being a baby I suppose. Your life practically revolves around eating, sleeping and playing. If you get in trouble, so long as you have mastered the puppy dog eyes (which becomes very essential in life), nothing's gonna happen to you.

So for the next few years of our lives, we grew up together, depended on one another, etcetera etcetera.

Not that I'm saying it was all a bed of roses with a couple of Care Bears sliding of a rainbow and landing in a pot of gold beside a leprechaun that... oops, I'm straying again aren't I?

I guess what I'm saying is that it wasn't always a peaceful relationship.

As stated above, he stole my Barbie doll. Why I will never know. All I remember is that shortly after that incident, a certain Chase woke up one morning crying for his mommy because the thing is his hair made him look like a girl and would lead to him acquiring cooties.

He retaliated by submerging every single one of my stuff toys (even Mr. Snuggles! And he knew I loved him!) in a tub filled with water. This traumatizing event left the 6 year old me crying for days.

Then I got over it and gave his prized fire truck to the kid next door, Charlie. Who just so happened to be Rob's archenemy. Apparently he was poopiehead and at the same time a ten-eyed green monster with a bazillion tentacles in the disguise of an 8 year old boy who enjoyed bullying him.

At that time, I didn't think it was possible. Now, maybe it was.

Ah who knows?

But whether we played pranks on one another or not, whether we had a love-hate relationship, we were each other's family and that's all that mattered.

But didn't we have our moms you ask?

My mom was a socialite; In her list of priorities, she put the party at Elena Collins' house above changing diapers.

Rob's mom, although it wasn't full-blown yet, had an alcohol addiction; In her list of priorities, she put Jim, Jack, Joe and Jose above feeding her son.

And you wonder how we both got so independent.

Through out the 14 years we spent with one another, we were there for each other in times of need and in times of happiness.

When I won the Next Great Cheerleader award at my school, he was he first one to congratulate me.

When he topped his class year after year after year, I was the one taking his picture while he was receiving his medals onstage.

When Bobby Smith dumped me, Rob was torn between beating him up and comforting me.

When things weren't ging so well for him at school, I was always there to listen to him.

He knew me better than anyone else at that time. He knew my less than pleasant side and he knew the caring, understanding me.

Why didn't any of the people at Sunnydale High know him?

One, Uncle Rowan decided to send him to a private school just outside town and two, Rob moved back to Australia the year we were supposed to start high school together.


As close as we were, there was always one topic Rob would never open up to me about and that was his dad. From what I could gather from listening in the hallway and peeping through the keyhole the times Uncle Rowan stayed with us, they didn't see eye to eye.

At all. And while it was an invasion of privacy, I was just looking out for Rob.

Uncle wanted Rob to be a doctor just like him; Rob had other plans in mind which he never shared with me.

I knew Uncle was doing what he thought was best for his son and he most probably had the best intentions in mind.

He just had some trouble executing it.

Another problem was that Uncle couldn't deal with it at our house; It was around the time that Dad started working from home. It lasted for a few months and no, it didn't mean that he had more time for us.

It just meant that Uncle Rowan didn't want us hearing what was going on between him and Rob.

Didn't want us butting in I suppose. Not that my Dad would have cared but I guess Uncle didn't want to ruin the picture perfect family thing they had going on.

Picture perfect family my ass.

So after many arguments, Uncle Rowan decided to move his family back to Australia. He told Dad that it was because he wanted to work in Australia but I knew better; He just wanted to deal with Rob without others around.

How Dad was so oblivious to something so obvious till amazes me.

So looking back, I guess I would have been fine with it, had I been given time to have a proper goodbye.

Thing was, Rob left without so much as saying goodbye.

One morning, I just came down to eat breakfast and he was gone.

That day I remember storming Dad's office and demanding he told me where Rob was.

He told me that Uncle Rowan and his family had left and that they had been planning it for a long time.

"Rob never told me" was the only thing that went through my mind the whole day.

When I got home that evening, there was a note on the dining table. Strange, my parents never left anything that said "Goodnight" or "We've just gone out and we'll be back after your bedtime."

It was a note from Rob which I hadn't noticed that morning in my rage.

It didn't say much. Just a bunch of excuses.


As cliché as this sounds, by the time you read this I'll already be gone. I'm sorry I didn't tell you but I thought it
would be easier this way. Goodbye and thanks for everything.


I didn't think of him much after that; I drowned myself in parties and boys and cheerleading.

What was there to stop me when the one who normally would was gone.

No letters, no phone calls, nothing.

It's a good thing he didn't promise to keep in touch because if there's one thing I hate it's people not fulfilling their promises.

Our parents never kept in ouch either; If they did, which I highly doubt, they never told me about it.

Which is why I never heard anything about him after he left.

I never tried to find out either, seeing as I was still mad and hurting like hell.

Then I met the Scoobies and the rest was history.

I didn't think of him even when I was in LA.

I only thought of him when I was already dead, when I was just a spirit and there was nothing I could do anymore but to watch.

I guess I was sick and tired of watching the people I cared about suffer so I decided to pay my cousin a visit.

Now as I'm watching him down another shot of vodka, I regret not keeping in touch.

I forgot to mention, he switched from beer to wine to whiskey to vodka in the last three hours that I've been watching.

Being a spirit and one that works for the Powers That Be (or the Puppeteers That Be) I can look into a person's past and lemme tell you, Rob's was not pretty.

Apparently he wanted to be a priest which is why he and his dad fought so much. Uncle Rowan wanted him to be a doctor.

Then his parents divorced. Uncle Rowan left his only son to deal with his alcoholic mother till the day she died.

Then he entered the monastery and somewhere along the line, he realized he couldn't do it.

He crawled back to his dad and went to med school.

Presently he works for a jackass named Gregory House.

Oh, and did I mention that Uncle Rowan used to beat him? I will never forgive him for that.

He's different now... Less happy, more with the broody. Why are almost all of the men in my life like that?

A lot of things have changed as well, too many things to enumerate.

If we had kept in touch, maybe I could have helped ease the pain.

Maybe I could have cheered him up.

Now we'll never know.

How did he find out I was dead?

Well I'm guessing that great minds think alike; After a really, really long time, he decided to try and contact me.

So he started by tracking me down the only way he knew where to start.

My medical records.

Which said that I was dead.

He didn't believe it at first which is why he called the Wolfram and Hart offices to inquire about me.

The moment they heard the name Cordelia Chase, they put him through to Wesley.

Who put him through to Angel.

Apparently, no one wanted to be the one to tell the annoyed voice on the phone that I had died and they figured the one who was closest to me ought to do it.

Angel was surprised at first by the fact that the one on the line had an Australian accent.

Then surprised by the fact that it was my cousin.

So gently, he informed the irritated and tired man on the phone (he'd been calling for hours and had been waiting for someone to just confirm what was written on my records.) that I was well,


Robert hung up after that, sadness and regret written all over his features.

Watching him now as he gets into bed and turns off the lights and attempts to sleep, I wish there were something I could do to make him feel better.

He looks so tired, looks ten years older than he should.

And it's not like I can touch him or say anything to him to make him feel better because he wouldn't be able to sense me; I'm a spirit, hello.

But maybe my presence will be enough, whether he can sense me or not.

So now, as I sit beside him on the bed, he turns and faces me, or at least, the side I'm on.

Then he whispers something so simple and yet so heartbreaking.

"I miss you both so much, and I'm sorry."

He thinks he's saying it to empty air.

But I know better.

Maybe my presence is enough.


Done! By the way, I’m thinking of making a sequel which will be from Chase’s PoV and it’s up to you guys whether you want me too or not. Please include your opinion in you review.

I hope you enjoyed and please review! Thanks for reading!

The End

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