title from "Paper Houses" by Niall Horan.

{ I own nothing }

… … …

He's no stranger to a fresh start. He supposes most people find them refreshing, or frightening, or exciting, but for him, it's simply necessary. He's finally getting to a place in his career where he doesn't feel haunted by the mistakes of his past, even the one that nearly ended it all together. Instead, he feels determined to make amends. Not just to move past his mistakes, or learn from them, but to conquer them once and for all.

There are multiple reasons why Port Charles is the perfect place to do it.

He expects the transition to be difficult. From what Commissioner Ashford has told him, he's got some pretty big shoes to fill. Nathan West was a man of honor and integrity, loved by just about everyone, and a damn good detective to top it all off. So he's not surprised when Dante Falconeri is not pleased to meet him, and every attempt to bond with his new partner is brutally rebuffed.

He gets it. Kind of. Doesn't mean it doesn't suck.

Welcome to Port Charles, Detective Harrison Chase.

… … …

He knows he's got a lot to catch up on as the new guy in town, especially in this small community where it seems like everyone is connected somehow. It's not like he knows nothing at all; he's done his homework. The Quartermaines, the Corinthos', the Spencers, the Jeromes… there's more drama, secrets, corruption, and crime on one corner of Port Charles than on every corner of Boston combined. He supposes it's only fitting that his first introduction to the inner workings of the PCPD comes at the hands of none other than Sonny Corinthos.

He learns quickly that things are different here. Despite being the most powerful crime boss on the eastern seaboard, Sonny seems to have the PCPD wrapped around his finger. Chase's own partner is his son, for God's sake. And Dante doesn't seem to mind bending the law to accommodate his sprawling family, none of whom can seem to stay out of any kind of trouble.

Despite Dante's warnings and the subtle urge he feels to follow the status quo, he also has little room for error. Commissioner Ashford is well apprised of his past… indiscretions. And besides, he made a commitment to himself that after what happened before, he would leave no room to question his integrity in every investigation, every time.

He'll be polite, and he'll be fair. But he won't be manipulated. Not this time.

… … …

He knew he'd run into his brother sooner or later. He can't say he expected to have to read him his Miranda rights when he did.

He'll admit that being near the big brother he never got to know was part of what drew him to Port Charles in the first place. He knows Hamilton (…sorry, "Finn") is one of the most respected doctors in the country in his field, and he knows he doesn't really get along with the father they share, but he doesn't know much, if anything, else. After everything he's been through over the past few years, he's become very aware of how lucky he is to have family to fall back on, however estranged they may be.

And it quickly becomes clear just how estranged they are.

He can't just hand out a favor because Finn's family. (Maybe that's a little bit of pride talking, because if he did, he'd have to allow Dante to do the same, and he'd like to think he's better than that.) But there are ways he can influence the situation without breaking protocol, and he figures if he really wants to get to know his brother, he needs this first chance meeting to end on a more positive note than a night in city jail. He can already tell that cracking Finn won't be easy, but there's a reason why he's a detective - he's persistent as hell when he wants to be.

Besides, he never got to be the pesky, annoying little brother. He supposes now's his chance.

… … …

Okay, maybe issuing parking tickets was a silly way to get his brother's attention.

(But he was parked illegally - all three times - and as far as Chase is concerned, no law is too trivial to enforce, even for a detective.)

So he's desperate. That much is evident, not only to Finn, but to himself as well. He can't help but wonder what it would be like to have not just a brother, but a friend; someone to go have a drink with after a long day at the station, or to call to vent when the stresses of his job get the better of him. (It happens more often than he'd like to admit.) More than anything, he wishes he understood why Finn resents him so much. He knows his mother's death must have shaken him to his core. He can't imagine losing either one of his parents, and from what he can gather, Finn probably felt at the time that he lost both parents at the same time; one to death, and the other to a woman who, in his mind, is a poor substitute for his own mother. Chase can't fault him for any of those feelings. But it's been over two decades, and as much as he tries to put himself in Finn's shoes, he can't understand why Finn's resentment for their father - and Chase, apparently - still runs so deep.

He knows that no matter how many times they run into each other in town, Finn might not ever give him the time of day. But if there's one thing Chase values, it's family, and so he'll take what he can get - one forced conversation at Charlie's at a time.

… … …

He'll admit that when he first moved to Port Charles, his first instinct was to treat Sonny Corinthos like the master criminal everyone knows he is. What he failed to realize was that the number of people in this town who love and respect Sonny is on par with, if not greater than, the number of people who fear and resent him.

A well-known crime figure didn't come in here. A son who was terrified for his father came in here.

He gets Dante's point, now, in hindsight. Despite Sonny's 'dealings,' illegal or otherwise, he's still a man with a family, who has a wife he loves and children he wants to protect. While Chase doesn't always agree with his methods, on a basic level, he's reached a new level of understanding for Sonny's motivations. He still wouldn't change the way he handled his first encounter with Mike Corbin - he did everything right, protocol-wise, and if he wants to keep his job, that's the way it needs to be. But in a continued effort to learn from his past, he can use his new perspective to inform any future encounters with the Corinthos family.

So when sweet Avery goes missing, he finds that it comes easily to him, handling the situation like he would any other missing child case. It helps that he has personal experience with Mike's current state, and he recognizes that the situation needs to be handled with care and discretion. Despite Ava's insistent claims and his initial suspicions that Sonny's business may be involved, he understands that this is not a criminal investigation, and he's almost certain Mike would never intentionally put Avery in danger. It's easy, then, to have compassion for Sonny, for Carly, for Michael, and even for Ava. It's easy to focus his attention on Avery's safety and leave his concerns about Sonny's legitimacy for another day.

And he's more than happy to be the one to deliver Avery safely back to her parents.

It reminds him why he's really here; why he chose a life in law enforcement in the first place. He wants to help people. Sure, he likes serving up justice, catching criminals, solving a big case. But what he really wants is to protect others from danger, to show them compassion and empathy and do whatever he can to make the world a safer place.

His self-identified hero complex has gotten him in trouble in the past. It's nice to know that he can use it as an asset, too, and not just a liability.

… … …

He appreciates Alexis' intentions. He does, really, especially since they line up with his own - to have a real, honest conversation with his brother.

And then, at the same time, he really wishes she hadn't bothered.

He tries to look at the bright side. Finn may have closed the door on the potential for any sort of brotherly bond, but at least now he knows where he stands. It's easier to cope with the disappointment, knowing very clearly how Finn feels about him. Or, rather, their father. And as much as he wishes Finn could separate the two, he supposes he understands why he can't, and that at least offers him some closure.

He thought that maybe the two of them winding up in this tiny town together might be a sign from the universe that they could have a second chance at being brothers. But maybe, he realizes, this was what was meant to happen all along. Because at least now he has closure, or at least something resembling closure, and with that, maybe he can finally start to move on.

… … …

It shakes him more than he thought it would, hearing Jenelle's name for the first time since he moved here. Or Nelle, as she apparently calls herself now. He wishes he were surprised, but he learned a long time ago that Jenelle has a way of reinventing herself in whatever way best suits her whims.

So he's also not surprised to learn she's attached herself to Michael Corinthos, heir to the fortunes of both the Quartermaine and the Corinthos families. The single most wealthy, powerful man in Port Charles, and Jenelle is having his baby. It really is true, what they say - the more things change, the more they stay the same.

He has no doubt that this whole fall-down-the-stairs mess is just one in a series of carefully orchestrated events that Jenelle has executed since she came to Port Charles. It's harder than he thought it would be to put his own biases toward Jenelle aside and treat the current investigation with fresh eyes. But he has to continue to lay low, to be careful to stay objective and keep his guard up. Any shred of evidence that he can dig up against her is just another bullet in the metaphorical gun that will eventually take her down, and he can't wait to be the one to pull the trigger.

… … …

He should have seen this coming, really. He should have known something was up when Dante was all too willing to include him in this "department tradition," especially at such an apparently prestigious event as the Nurses' Ball. But he's spent the last three months trying to fit in at the PCPD, and he was so blinded by the feeling of inclusion - of belonging - that he missed the very clear signs that this was all a joke to him.

He's terrified and, yeah, a little angry when he's forced on stage to make a fool of himself all on his own. But he quickly decides that the best way to get back at Dante is to nail this performance, to be a good sport and show him that he's not easily rattled. He knows he can sing - he's no aspiring performer, but he can carry a tune - and he's confident that his regimented rehearsal schedule has prepared him well. He knows he can pull this off.

So it's pretty damn satisfying when Dante shakes his hand, a glimmer of respect in his eye, and he finally feels like he might belong here.

… … …

It's almost a relief, coming face to face with Jenelle after months - no, years - of anticipation. A relief to see that she's still the same girl he used to know, back when he was young and dumb and had too much bravado to think his judgment could ever be in question. A relief to know that he's grown and matured, learned from his mistakes, while she's still stuck in the same pathetic cycle of revenge, bitterness, and selfish pride. (Or lack thereof, one could argue.) A relief to know that his efforts to bring her to justice won't be wasted, because she's this close to unraveling. He can sense it, and it's pretty damn satisfying to think that it won't take much effort to push her the rest of the way there. All according to protocol, of course - he won't make the same mistake twice.

Looking at her now, seeing that same vindictive, almost evil gleam in her eye, he can't help but wonder what the hell attracted him to her all those years ago. Was he really so naïve that he couldn't tell she had an agenda? Was his hero complex so inflated that he let it cloud his judgment in such a heinous manner? He'll never regret anything more than he does the night they spent in that seedy motel in Florida; the night that he promised to protect her, whatever the cost. And what a cost it was.

It's taken him two years. Two long, laborious years to rebuild his reputation and set his career back on track. There's a side of him that wants to blame it all on Jenelle, but that would be ignoring his own egregious lapse in judgment, and he's not too proud to acknowledge the part he played in everything. He's learned that blaming others and plotting for revenge and payback only comes back around to hurt you in the end. (Ironically, he has Jenelle to thank for that lesson.)

So instead, he's looking for justice. Justice for an innocent guy whose only mistake was trusting a scheming gold digger who wanted nothing more than a paycheck. Justice for Michael, who Chase has learned has a hero complex on par with his own, and who fell for Jenelle's damsel-in-distress act not unlike the way he did two years ago. And justice for their unborn child, who deserves more than life as a pawn to obtain money and power.

It won't atone for his mistakes, and it won't bring Zachary Grant back from the dead. But it will give closure and peace to a grieving family, and it'll save another family from the same heartache. Jenelle's trail of lies and bodies has to stop somewhere, and he's going to make sure it stops here.

… … …

He'll be the first to admit that he and Dante didn't exactly start off on the best of terms. Right or wrong, they both had biases against one another that prevented them from being anything more than reluctant partners for months. So it kind of sucks that now that they're finally on the same side, fighting the same battle, protecting the same people, Dante gets called away on assignment and leaves the Nelle investigation to Chase.

Not that he can't handle it, especially now that Michael's on his side. Winning Dante over was one thing, but bringing Michael into the fold is a coup. With he and Michael playing off one another, each of them pushing Jenelle closer and closer to her breaking point, he's confident that by the time the baby is born, Jenelle will be facing murder charges.

As committed as he is to the cause, pretending to even tolerate Jenelle, let alone to be in love with her, makes his stomach turn over in knots. Knowing what she's capable of, what she's done, what she might do… his acting chops are being put to the test in the worst way. The only thing that makes it better is seeing the gleam of uncertainty in her eyes, the fear he provokes in her. If Jenelle is scared, it makes her dangerous, but it also makes her careless; sloppy. Every day she comes closer and closer to unraveling, and it's only a matter of time before the final string is pulled.

Game on, Jenelle.

… … …

He never imagined that victory could feel so much like defeat.

Jenelle confessed. They won.

And now Michael's baby is gone.

He guesses it's true, what they say - the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

He's not sure he'll ever get over the guilt of orchestrating a plan that ended in the death of a child, no matter how well-intentioned. But it helps that Michael now considers him a friend; that they can commiserate and support one another in the aftermath of the dumpster fire that was Jenelle Benson. He finds it ironic that some of the most important things in his life now - his career as a detective, his life in Port Charles, being closer to his brother, the new friendships he's building - are only things he has now because Jenelle stripped him of everything two years ago. If that's not making lemonade out of lemons, he's not sure what is.

He could choose to be bitter. He could choose to resent her for everything she's done, for everything she cost not only him, but so many others. He could choose to push away the good things in his life, knowing that they're only the result of what she put him through. Or, he could exact the ultimate revenge on Jenelle: he can be happy. He can be thankful and make the most of what he has, regardless of how it came to be. He can move on with his life, leave his bitterness and resentment in the past, and forget all about her. Yes, he supposes that would be the best revenge of all; that despite the mark Jenelle left on him, on all of them, that she'll rot in a cell in Pentonville for the rest of her life, completely forgotten, irrelevant, and alone.

Karma can be a real bitch. So he'll let karma worry about Jenelle from here on out.

… … …

He didn't expect Finn to fall at his feet after he cracked the case of his and Anna's disappearance. In fact, he really didn't expect much of anything at all, except maybe a forced thank-you. And anyway, that's not why he was so insistent on being part of the case; his reasons were selfish, really, when it all comes down to it. It just so happened that, being a detective, he could do something about it rather than waiting on the sidelines, so that's what he did.

But he won't lie and say it doesn't feel good to have Finn's appreciation, and to finally feel like maybe, just maybe, Finn doesn't mind having him around so much after all. So even though it's not what he expected, he'll take 'bonding time' with Roxy the bearded dragon and half a damn cup of coffee over the cold shoulder any day of the week.

It is a little scary, though, he'll admit. He's been burned before by Finn, in the not-so-distant past, and he's wary that maybe his brother isn't as sincere as he seems. He supposes it's the same reasons why he hasn't been seriously involved with anyone since Jenelle - once bitten, twice shy. But he quickly realizes that avoiding his brother's advances out of fear is no way to live his life, especially considering this is what he wanted in the first place.

And then their father shows up in Port Charles, and Chase wonders if his fears won't be confirmed after all.

Finn reverts right back to the resentful, closed-off version of himself that Chase first ran into that night at Charlie's. He gets that Finn has issues with their father that Chase might never understand. What he doesn't get is how after losing his mother so tragically to illness, Finn could just turn his back on their father in his time of need, especially when Chase knows this is Finn's area of expertise.

He promised himself he'd stop trying to force Finn to be his brother. But he won't let Finn's pride and resentment cost their father his health, or even his life. So yeah, he's gonna use whatever guilt trip is necessary to force Finn's hand. And maybe, in a way, this will test Finn's true intentions; if he truly wants the brotherly relationship he claims he does, he has to know that refusing to help their father would derail all hope of that, at least for the time being.

So he's relieved when Finn agrees, and he's even more relieved when Finn finally cracks the medical mystery that's been plaguing their father. He thinks that maybe, finally, they've turned a corner. Maybe his brother and father can put their differences aside, and they can all be a family. But of course, true to form, Finn rebuffs anything outside of the realm of his role as a doctor and shuts the door on their father all together.

Chase wants to push the issue. He wants to meddle and dig for clues and solve the mystery of why Finn harbors so much resentment. But he also can take a hint, and he knows when to back off. He has his father, and he has his brother, and even if he can't have them both at the same time, at this point, he'll take what he can get.

… … …

Between Finn's disappearance, his father's medical issues, and welcoming Detective Valerie Spencer into the fold, he had almost forgotten that the Jenelle Benson case had yet to be tried in court.

He supposes that's just par for the course with Jenelle. You finally start to move on, and she finds some way to yank you right back in again.

It's just too rich that even with all the evidence stacked against her, she thinks that a no-contest plea makes her any less guilty. It's all too satisfying to watch the judge level the maximum possible sentence against her; to watch her crumble under the weight of everything she's done. And when he walks out of that court room and escorts her to her new home at Pentonville, he takes pride in knowing that justice has finally been served.

… … …

She was right about one thing: his love life has been abysmal since the number she pulled on him. It's hard to even consider trusting someone like that again when he's been burned so badly in the past. But seeing her go away for life has convinced him that it's finally time to move on, to put himself back out there. Easier said than done.

But the moment he meets Willow Tait, he's ready to give it a shot. He'll admit he was so hard on her that first night in the parking garage because her resistance and suspiciousness reminded him too much of Jenelle, but he quickly realizes that Willow has a backbone Jenelle never had. And then Lulu vouches for her, tells him how wonderful she is, and then he sees the pamphlet for grieving parents in her car. Based on the evidence, he quickly concludes that while she might have secrets, he doesn't feel threatened by her. In fact, he's more intrigued than anything.

He hasn't felt this way in… well, maybe ever. He finds himself stumbling over his words around her, desperately trying not to offend her or scare her away. She gives as good as she gets, and she's always got a witty comeback or rebuttal for his lame attempts at charm. She's smart and funny and so damn beautiful it makes his palms sweat like he's thirteen again.

He's never tried this hard before. Okay, he'll admit that it's probably because he's never had to; usually, flashing the badge and a smirk could be enough to attract a beautiful woman. He's never tried it, not really, but he's not blind. He sees the way women look at him when they see the badge and gun attached to his belt when he's on duty. And yet, Willow didn't even flinch.

He supposes he has Lulu and her automotive repair skills to thank for the assist in winning her over during their initial encounter, but now he's determined to earn her attention based on his own merits. Finn calls it a 'show,' his career day presentation, and while he'd like to say that he did it all for the kids, he'll admit that he jumped at the chance to be near her for the day, to show her a side of him that she might not see otherwise. And as much as Finn berates him for it, his trademark persistence clearly paid off.

Now, if only this ongoing murder spree would calm down long enough for him to actually call her…

… … …

He's not sure what he was thinking, bringing her straight back to her apartment. He knows they joked about being rusty, about bad first dates, but he really thought he had better judgment than that. Despite his purest intentions, he knows how it must have come across, so all he can hope now is that she forgives him for being a little bit stupid.

(Stupid for her, if he's honest.)

So maybe their first date didn't go exactly as planned, but despite how it started, he's actually quite happy with how the night went. If anything, he feels like he got a better read on just who Willow Tait is.

She's a little bit guarded, he can tell that much. He knows she's probably got secrets, ghosts that haunt her, just like the rest of the people in this town; it seems like no one ever makes it to Port Charles without a sordid past and a compelling story to tell. The more he sees of her, the more he wants to know everything there is to know. But he knows what it's like to have things you're not proud of in your past, and despite his detective's instincts to push her until she cracks, he finds that he's content to take things slow. He wants her to tell him things because she wants him to know, because she trusts him, not because he badgered it out of her.

Maybe he just wants to know if her ghosts keep her up at night, the way his still do sometimes.

… … …

It feels right, ushering in 2019 at the Metro Court, here in Port Charles, with Willow on his arm and her lips on his. It feels like a fresh start, kissing her for the first time at midnight, kind of like he's setting the tone for the year in this very moment.

He's beyond ready to leave all the drama and heartache of 2018 in the past, to move on and really start living his life here in Port Charles. He's ready to not just be content, but to be happy, and 2019 is gonna be the year to do it.

… … …

Just when he thinks he's got Willow figured out, she finds ways to surprise him.

He's been debating whether or not to open up to her about his past. He won't get into specifics - definitely not casual dating material - but he wants her to know how much he appreciates her, just for being who she is. He wants her to understand that her honesty means a lot to him. And the way she kisses him then, like she understands him on a visceral level, makes him dig his fingers a little tighter into her hip, pull her a little bit closer. They've only kissed a handful of times at this point, but he can feel their connection in his bones.

And then, just like that, she gives him what he's been wanting all along: the truth. And it's not even really about the secret she's keeping, because she has no obligation to tell him anything at all. It's the fact that she trusts him. That she believes in him and his character and his integrity enough to confide something in him that she clearly hasn't told many people. It lights a fire under him to prove her right; to protect her secret, to be someone that she can lean on.

And despite his hero complex, it's nice to know that she doesn't need him; she just wants him. Harrison Chase, with or without the detective title. He hasn't felt wanted like that in a long time, and it feels pretty damn good.

… … …

He's not sure what he expected, honestly, but his first year in Port Charles has certainly been one that he won't forget. More than anything, he's glad to have finally put his mistakes in his past, and to be able to leave them there without a trace. He's grateful that he's found a home here, that he's got family and friends and a beautiful woman that he thinks he could love, if she gives him the chance. It may have been regret that led him here, but he doesn't regret a second of the time he's spent in Port Charles.

And to think, his life here is just getting started.