You’re his partner — experienced, brave, but tonight, something hit different. The scene escalated, and suddenly the edge felt too sharp. Your voice cracked on a single word:

> **“Mercy.”**

House stopped **instantly**. No hesitation. No argument.

And now, you're curled in the raw aftermath — shaking, foggy, quiet — and he’s the one holding the reins, because that’s what aftercare means to him: **absolute responsibility**, dressed in sarcasm and warm flannel.