a/n: This is my first songfic. Thanks to darkangelgirl262 for making the suggestion that I do one. The idea for this just came out of nowhere. This is easily the most unique Chase fic I have done yet. Lots of anger and fury here. The premise here is that no one can repress anger and not have a way to release it.

Takes place after 'The Mistake'

Lyrics to "Bullet on Butterfly Wings" by The Smashing Pumpkins (a very angry/angsty song for anyone who hasn't heard it). Lyrics are in paranthesis.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chase (although he might be a more interesting character if I did :) ) but I'll take credit for the master.


(The world is a vampire, sent to drain

Secret destroyers, hold you up to the flames)

He could feel it all building up from within. His normally strong ability to suppress had deteriorated. The last week was particularly trying, and now he had the next week ahead to face his troubles alone. He couldn't go on without expelling the demons. He had to confront the pain. Rage was reserved for someone who was always calm and didn't anger easily.

The smell of the plastic mat below him drifted up to his nose triggering sensations of anxiety and anticipation as he eagerly waited for the Kyorugi to begin. Chase had his time of meditation before this moment, now this instant meant release. The master knew to give him a brief interval for preparation first; the chance to focus and channel the deep sense of spirituality that was required to properly unload the ire.

(And what do I get, for my pain?
Betrayed desires, and a piece of the game)

As he stared down his opponent from the opposite side of the room the anger instantly began to well up within. Chase slightly adjusted the protective head gear that sat on his head. Despite his skill level he always wore protection for the head, trunk, and groin area. As a doctor he knew that even the most innocent of slips could cause the most harm. The full-contact variant of sparring they performed still had its rules. No knock outs or serious harm and it usually ended when one of them directly submitted from physical exhaustion.

Chase bowed in unison to the master and moved into the ready stance. As expected, the master started with the basic front kick. Chase countered with one of his own. Usually the master struck first, but Chase's time on defense was frequently short. The master spun around and offered a side kick that Chase defended using the swift sweeping movement of a middle block.

(Even though I know - I suppose I'll show
All my cool and cold - like old job)

As he defended himself with all the usual blocks and spins, his thoughts now meandered to the week that had just past. More humiliation, more taunting, more lies, more death. He just took it like he always did. Good boy Robert, turn the other cheek. Make your mother proud. Since he was a young child the deadly sin of ira had been pushed into his psyche. Do not give into anger. Inappropriate feelings of hatred, wishing to do evil to others, it was all wrong. Never mind that anger is a natural reaction to being threatened. Never mind that the body actually increases cortisol and epinephrine thus producing heightened stress levels. Hide it all inside. God commands it.

Each day at the hospital he was selling his soul. What little identity he had drifted farther and farther away with each moment of disrespect and loss. All the good he did was just not enough. Death mocked him too much. He accepted all that was handed to him and moved on. Yet he didn't really move on. He just tucked it away for the right moment.

(Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage)

The anger inside rose higher. Hold onto just a little longer. It isn't time yet. His wandering thoughts though proved to betray him as he missed a block on the master's back sidekick and found himself face down on the mat. Chase slowly got up with the right side of his head throbbing and glared at his challenger with cold eyes that echoed the now burning full rage from within. The master knew what he had to do to get him started.

(Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage)

The breakdown forced him into it. Chase had been doing Taekwondo since he was 17 and was skilled enough to heavily spar with a master. He remembered with vivid detail when the psychologist told him that unless he found a way to deal with that inner rage the consequences would be dire. At the time Chase thought the man was a quack. After taking up a martial art that promoted physical and mental well being, character development, and building of self-confidence, he sorely admitted the man was right.

(Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage)

Now it was time to let go. The offensive could begin. Chase went into a blatant attack of open handed punches and spin kicks. Time began to stand still as the adrenaline flowed throughout his body. Now he was no longer fighting just a man. He was fighting his frustration. Every punch and kick channeled all that deep hatred and resentment. He could vent now in his mind while using the martial arts as the physical release. His first mental target was always the same. Foreman.

(Then someone will say what is lost can never be saved
Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage)

What have I done to earn such disrespect? I never once attacked you, or insulted you, and did anything to hurt your feelings. Where do you get off assuming my need for privacy to be laziness and not caring about anybody? Why do you think you are better and smarter than me? You had it better growing up than I did you ungrateful bastard. Don't ever think I had a good life and stop calling me rich! Why doesn't House give you the grief I get? You deserve it way more.

Time for a brief rest. The second round would begin in 30 seconds. That gave Chase time to come back to his normal state of mind and reflect. Such mental discipline was usually a requirement of the sport. Still, the anger boiled from within. The break was much like the eye of a storm where there was a brief moment of serenity in between the vast wrath of the monster. His emotions always made sense to him since the person with the long fuse usually had a huge bunch of dynamite at the end. He took two intense deep breaths of calm before it was time to resume.

(Now I'm naked, nothing but an animal
But can you fake it, for just one more show?)

Chase now took a walking stance and waited for the next move. The master didn't waste anytime as he spun around and delivered the roundhouse kick. He made contact with Chase's left shoulder knocking him slightly backward. The blow was enough for his rage to quickly return thus throwing him into another explosive state. Chase furiously delivered a series of combination kicks and hand strikes that were constantly deflected by blocks from the master.

His thoughts now turned to betrayal. He didn't mind the physical blows inflicted on him constantly, but the emotional ones were more traumatic than he could ever admit. His body automatically kept going as his mind now focused on the pain from Cameron.

(And what do you want? I want to change
And what have you got, when you feel the same?)

What did I do to make you think I was devoid of feelings? All I ever did was be nice to you. How could just walk all over me with your emotional blackmail and treat me like crap in the process? We made one mistake and now I have to pay for it? Where is your price? You wouldn't let me say no, but then you blame me in the end. We were two adults. You need to start acting like one.

(Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage)

Now the rage was consuming him to the point that he could barely focus. Everything surrounding around him was now incoherent and he could only recognize the surfaced anger. His physical strength seemed almost superhuman as he violently maneuvered his way around the entire dojang.

The master never stopped their sessions for point scoring or penalties. Only the necessary breaks. They both knew their sessions were purely for release. That was likely why Chase never tried to take the black belt exam. He could have easily passed. Achievement in the sport though was not what he needed.

The end of round two came upon him. Chase had 30 seconds to regain focus, but this time he couldn't concentrate. He was always beyond hope of accomplishing mental discipline by this point. His mind was too cluttered and his surfaced emotion too raw. As the break ended he immediately went into a fighting stance with his knees bent and hands up. His pupils were now fully dilated from the fury.

(Tell me I'm the only one
Tell me there's no other one
Jesus was the only son, yeah.
Tell me I'm the chosen one
Jesus was the only son for you)

He didn't run away from the pain that so consumed his life once he stepped into this room. He welcomed pain as this was his church. This was the only place and time where he felt in touch with his true self. He even allowed himself to be angry at God during these moments. Anger at God was better than no acknowledgement at all. Here he could lash out with all his wrath and only God would know he was the recipient.

(Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage
Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage)

Chase wasn't there to defend anymore. His only motive was attack. His punches and kicks were now delivered at a dizzying speed. He let out a loud yell and delivered more blows including the palchu where he jumped into the air, performed a 360 spin and kicked the master squarely in the mid-section before landing. The master quickly got up off of the mat and they furiously exchanged one set after another of combination kicks, punches, and blocks all designed to thwart the other.

(And someone will say what is lost can never be saved)

At this point Chase didn't consciously know what he was doing. All his actions came from pure instinct. His sin of ira was now unleashed and he could no longer avoid the intense rage that was meant just for him. All Chase's thoughts now became of only one person. The one he always reserved for when the rage was at its peak.

(Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage)

You miserable son of a bitch. All I ever did was be the best doctor I could be. I save lives, I give you right answers, I perform all your dirty work, yet all I get is ridicule and humiliation. You don't give Foreman and Cameron anywhere near as much grief as I get. You have no right to treat me like that you bastard. I'm a human being just like anyone else. I am smart and would like to hear it just once. Here's a punch for your demoralizing words. Take this kick you jerk for your nosiness into my private life. Take this all out vehemence you horrible asshole for making me completely miserable.

(Despite all my rage am I still just a rat in a-
Despite all my rage am I still just a rat in a-)

He had more today for House than normal. He was physically tired but the adrenaline was still too high as he kept pushing forward. The recent events triggered even more repressed anger and despair.

How could you not tell me? Were you afraid that your fellow was too weak to handle the truth? No, you just wanted to see the moment when everything fell apart for me. You wanted to see the anguish and the torture for your own personal amusement. You are a sick bastard. I can't wait for you to see what it is like when both your parents are dead.

(Despite all my rage am I still just a rat in a cage)

Today the master let Chase keep going much longer than usual. He sensed that the fury wasn't quite expelled yet. There was something extra this time that needed to be exercised. He continued to maneuver and throw blocks letting his student expel the aggravation. He knew defense at this point was the only course.

(Tell me I'm the only one
Tell me there's no other one
Jesus was the only son for you)

I hate you for not telling me. I hate you for hanging me out to dry like that. I always defended you despite the fact you were the crappiest father in the world. I was the good Catholic that honored my mother and father despite the fact that you two messed me up. Now you really made things bad. I never thought you would sink to such lows. It was because of you a woman died. It was because I you I missed something because I cared. Damn you for making me care! You never did.

Chase abruptly stopped. No, it was his own fault she was dead. The master went for the final blow when Chase's knees buckled and he sank to the ground breathing heavily. He held up his hand in defeat. The master paused for a minute to see if his young student was okay. Chase looked up and the master smiled. The wild gaze was gone and they had yet another successful session. He reached out his hand and helped pull Chase up off the mat. "Same time next week Robert?"

Chase nodded, still trying to catch his breath. The rage had all but disappeared and he was back normal pain of reality that so haunted his days.

(And I still believe that I cannot be saved

And I still believe that I cannot be saved

And I still believe that I cannot be saved

And I still believe that I cannot be saved)

a/n: Like it? I'll admit feedback would be valuable here since this was an entirely new experiment for me. I take constructive criticism very well. Thanks for reading!