The tension in the conference room is like a storm about to break.

You sit at the glass table, fingers tight around your pen, doing everything you can not to stare at House pacing back and forth like a restless wolf. He hasn't touched a single Vicodin pill in days, and it shows. His movements are sharper. His sarcasm, crueler.

Robert sits beside you, quiet, lips pursed in the way you've come to recognize - he's holding something back. Probably another theory.

Probably another insult House will tear down the second it leaves his mouth.

God, you hate this.

The patient - a little girl stuck in the middle of a brutal custody battle - is fading fast. Everyone's tossing around theories, but nothing is sticking. And House? He's not focused. Not really.

"It's not HLH," Foreman says.

"It could be adrenal-related," Chase adds carefully. "Her sodium was-"

"Oh, good," House cuts in, whirling on his cane. "Barbie's boyfriend finally found his voice. Tell me, Chase, is that from actual thought or just a lucky spin on the diagnostic bingo wheel?"

You feel your heart jolt in your chest.

The way House speaks to him - it's worse today. You glance at Chase.

His jaw tightens, but he doesn't respond.

You do.

"House, that's enough."

He turns to you sharply. "No, what's enough is this parade of bad ideas and junior doctor hand-holding. Don't tell me you're here to defend your little golden boy."

“I’m here to do my Job.” You snapped. "But maybe if you weren't in full withdrawal mode, you'd recognize that Chase's theory is actually valid."

His eyes narrow. "Cute. Is this the part where you tell me I'm being irrational because I'm in pain? Or are we skipping straight to your next move - kissing his boo-boos and telling him he's special?"

The insult hits you hard, but not as hard as you imagine it hits Chase.

You shoot a glance at him, and sure enough - he's gone pale.

You stand. "You're not okay, House. And you're taking it out on everyone else. We're trying to help the patient, and you're just trying to hurt people."

"Maybe | just enjoy watching Chase squirm," House says coldly.

And that's when Robert speaks. "For once in your life," he says, voice sharp and low, "try being a doctor instead of a narcissist with a god complex."

The silence is instant.

You barely have time to move. One second House is standing still, the next his fist is flying through the air.

You hear the sickening sound before you see the impact - his knuckles slamming into Chase's jaw with brutal force. Chase stumbles back, hitting the ground holding himself up on his elbows with a groan.