After House entered the inner office, Jensen took a moment after closing the door to study him intently. He was always aware of his patients and observing, but he wasn't usually obvious about it, and House snarled at him. "What?"

Jensen only smiled. "I'm glad you're feeling better," he responded. He headed over for his delayed visit to the coffee pot, then handed House his cup and pulled the nearest chair over closer as usual.

"Great, so since you've already decided that much, we can cut out the physical questions. I'm sure I'll get enough of that from MacDonald."

"Nice try." Jensen settled back in his chair. He was still smiling. "I'm sure you'll get more of them from MacDonald, but you are going to get a few from me, too. Have you noticed any difference with the amitriptyline?"

House grudgingly gave in. He probably couldn't avoid a few simple questions before he got down to the two main items on his own agenda for this session. "Not yet."

"Keep at it. It can take a little while to kick in. Have you noticed any differences other than on your neuropathic pain?"

"Like the antidepressant effect, you mean. I wasn't depressed." Jensen simply waited, and House sighed. "Not really, but I think . . ."

"What?" House was much more serious suddenly, dropping the amiable tug-of-war they'd been having to that point, and Jensen decided to let him change the topic if he wanted to.

"I think I might be in a better mood in general," House admitted. "But the pain is better. I'm not sure if that's causing it or if this stuff might be dulling the edges a little."

"That's an interesting way of putting it," Jensen said. "I'd expected that you'd be worried about your mental clarity. But before we get down to that, you need to realize that just being in a good mood is not necessarily the same thing as being chemically altered. Most people learn that early, but you never had a chance to, give your childhood. Of course you're suspicious of it. I doubt you can remember simply being in a good mood growing up, at least after age three."

House shook his head. "Would you have?"

"No. If put into your childhood, I probably would have snapped and wound up either suicidal or institutionalized. I don't think I could have survived that as well as you did. Then in adulthood, you discovered medicine, which was the first fulfilling thing you'd run into that did intersect the world. Music was your escape, but medicine was your vocation, and it involved other people, which you enjoyed. I really think at heart you're a people person and just never had a chance in childhood to develop that personality. I think that even more since getting to know your father."

House laughed. "You think I'm a people person? Can I get that notarized? The hospital would never believe it."

"The more observant ones would. But where I was going with that was that it makes perfect sense for you to worry about being in a better mood and to wonder if that might indicate that your mind wasn't working well and your job would suffer. The worry doesn't equal the fact, Dr. House, and it's natural to have it. Now, down to answering the question. What mental tests have you given yourself so far?"

"I was timing myself reciting the periodic table while I was driving over to MacDonald's Wednesday."

"That was before methadone but on the amitriptyline, right?"

"Yeah. No difference."

"Why were you testing it then? Were you already somewhat in a better mood, or were you just worrying about the amitriptyline in general without any evidence to go on yet?"

"I think I was just aware of the possibility. I was also trying to distract myself."

"From being about to sign that contract? Or from hope?"

House took a few swallows of coffee, giving himself a micro break. "I don't know," he lied. It had been a combination of those two, even stronger on the second, and he did know.

Jensen nodded. "Hope can be frightening when you've been disappointed so often, can't it? But things haven't always fallen apart, Dr. House. Take your family. Your marriage, your daughters. Slowly getting to know your father. Life isn't John. It isn't going to pull the rug out from under you while laughing. Though again, it does make sense, given your childhood, that part of you would expect it to. You've shown a lot of courage stepping out into relationships the last few years. You showed a lot of courage this week on your treatment, too. I'm proud of you for that, and I know your family is."

House squirmed. "I was serious about quitting the Vicodin," he fired back. "I wasn't just looking for an easy out."

"Relax. Nobody is judging you, Dr. House; I was just admiring you. You did quit the Vicodin. And I know you were serious about it, but I'm glad that the detox wasn't necessary. I also had been worried myself that your levels of pain would require something stronger than just non-narcotics. I hoped I was wrong, but I was concerned. I'm glad that you - and your family - were spared going through detox only to run into that conclusion afterwards."

House dodged. "Back to the mental tests, I couldn't tell any difference on the periodic table. After starting the methadone Wednesday afternoon, I was doing Sudoku that night after the girls went to bed and having Cuddy time me."

"Could you tell a difference in pain immediately with the methadone?" Jensen slipped in a purely physical question.

"Yes. I thought I might be imagining it at first, but Thursday morning, I was sure. It works a lot better than the Vicodin."

"How much better?"

"I haven't been above a 4 since Wednesday except for just a few seconds this afternoon when the TENS pulled a wire loose and was shocking me directly on the skin. But the usual pain - it's better." House tightened up again just thinking about it, afraid that this would vanish. Outside of the ketamine, he couldn't remember a two-day stretch in the last decade which had never topped a 4.

"That's wonderful. It makes perfect sense that you'd be in a better mood from it. What else have you done to test yourself?"

"Thursday morning, I was trying to play the Minute Waltz in a minute."

Jensen laughed. "I can imagine you trying that. You can't do it anyway, can you?"

"No. I wasn't any slower, at least. Then . . . later Thursday afternoon, after we got the TENS, I went into work for a few hours. Worked this morning, too."

"Hold it. What came in between there? Did you have lunch yesterday with Thornton?"

"He came over that morning, even. Instead of going to the stable."

"Of course he would. He wanted to see you for himself. What happened when you had lunch later?"

"He didn't just put me down." Jensen sighed. "He was pretty good, actually. Switching through languages. Gave me a brainteaser to work out." And the issue of the car, but House wasn't going to bring that up today. That impulse wouldn't last, after all.

Jensen was smiling again. "I'm glad you talked to him. He is a wonderful choice to test your reactions. Did he notice anything different?"

"No. He even acted like he enjoyed me asking him."

"It wasn't an act. You hardly ever ask him for anything, not seriously. I'm sure he appreciated the opportunity. How did work go?"

"No difference on differentials that I could tell. We still haven't found a really interesting patient, though. I took a borderline interesting one this morning just to solve a real case instead of a hypothetical one."

The psychiatrist took a momentary break of his own for a sip of coffee, and of course, House noticed. "What? You're not just having coffee; you're plotting something."

"Yes, I was. Why didn't you tell the team up front, Dr. House?"

House's body language closed off immediately. "Because it's my leg and my business. I don't want the technical details of my medical problems to be the main topic of everything. The girls have already been bad enough this week since Tuesday night."

"Oh, so the girls are discussing the technical details of your medical problems? That's pretty advanced, even for above-average kids."

"You know what I mean," House grumbled.

"Yes, I do. But what you mean isn't what you said. Your reluctance to talk about this isn't based on medical confidentiality. You're worried that people think less of you for your leg, even with the team and especially with your family." Jensen gathered himself. He'd known this was coming for a while; House had told him himself, though not verbally. "I'm delighted that the new pain treatment is working and doesn't have side effects so far."

"So you don't spot any side effects, either?" House interrupted.

"No, I don't. Not in how your mind is working. I do agree that you are generally in a better mood, which is certainly explained by the decrease in pain and possibly by some effect from the amitriptyline, too. But you seem to be thinking just as usual to me." House relaxed. "But there is more than one kind of pain, Dr. House. You have a lot of unresolved issues psychologically with your leg. I don't think you've ever truly grieved for it, and you definitely have severe body image problems."

House was in full mental retreat, which Jensen had expected. "You don't think I've ever grieved for it? You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Possibly not. Tell me how you have grieved for it, then." House was silent. "You don't even like thinking about being disabled yourself. As for the girls, they are purely concerned, but they are reassured, too, aren't they? They accept details and answers?"

"Yes, but they ask again 30 minutes later."

"That's longer than I would have expected. They are dealing with this very well, and the difference this week to them is information. You are actually talking to them, even if under duress, instead of distraction or trying to convince them nothing is wrong when even they can see something is. They're caught up in the novelty right now of actually getting some straight answers from you, but they will settle down and ask less frequently. But why do you think it is a bad thing for your daughters to be more informed and reassured?"

"Because . . ." House gritted his teeth. "You don't get it."

"What don't I get?"

"It's easy for you to say, sitting over there with two good legs. You don't know what it's like."

"No, I don't. I can only sympathize with you here, not empathize. But I have known, both socially and in my practice, other people with physical disabilities. Even other people with more severe ones than yours. And you do have major issues in this area. MacDonald picked up on that right away, too, and I'm sure his experience with the disabled is much greater than mine."

"He's hardly a fountain of openness himself," House countered. "He wouldn't even tell me his diagnosis."

"Why should he? You are a patient in his practice. You were trying to use him to satisfy your curiosity, and he politely but firmly refused, and I can't blame him. In that context, it wasn't relevant."

"But I don't know that. You haven't met him, just that one talk on the phone. He's hiding things himself. He's the one with body image problems. He ought to be seeing a shrink, too."

Jensen looked thoughtful. "First, you don't know that he isn't seeing one. Second, everything you have told me about his reactions points to some kind of deep psychological pain. It could be just body image, but I'm skeptical. I do suspect the physical pain isn't the worst to him. Once again, Dr. House, be very careful pushing at him there. He is a person, not just a doctor, and you have no right out of pure curiosity to go ripping someone else's scabs off. He deserves privacy as much as you do."

"Says the one who is the champion of pushing at me," House pointed out.

"You're paying me to, and it's for your own good. There's a world of difference between sessions for therapeutic benefit and just public curiosity. But back to you, I think that talking about this during our sessions would really help you. Nobody else is judging you for being disabled, Dr. House, at least since John died, but you are perpetually judging yourself."

House looked away, and Jensen gave him a breather. The psychiatrist hadn't really expected to get anywhere on that line today. He had just wanted to get the topic out on the floor. House looked at his watch, then alerted and obviously jumped on a tangent. "I wanted to ask you about something else completely different today. Nothing to do with my leg."

Jensen grinned. "All right. What is it?"

House was immediately suspicious, of course. "You're not going to . . ."

"No, I'm not going to hammer on that topic. I just wanted to bring it up. That's a long-term plan, Dr. House; I never thought we'd really get into it now. Just be thinking about it. What did you want to ask me?"

House still looked suspicious, but he really did want to talk about his other main problem. "I think something's bothering Lisa."

Jensen considered. "Actually, I wondered that last week myself, Dr. House. It was odd for her not to give me advance warning about the problem with the pain contract."

"Right. She's not really sleeping well, either, and always hovering. Course, she's worried physically, and she blames herself partly for my leg in the first place, so she feels guilty about that. And . . ." he hesitated. "I have been kind of a jerk this last week."

"I agree, but we all are at times. When did you first notice something with her?"

"It started Wednesday. Week and a half ago. She was notified of a legal case that day, but I was tired from working a tough one myself, so I might have missed anything else. I figured she was just worried legally about the hospital."

"Have you checked out that case since, medically speaking?"

"Yes. I spent a good hour going over it. Tight call, but there's no blatant incompetence. Could have been complications just out of bad luck. I think we've got a good defense, and it shouldn't be a big reward even if they get anything. I told her all that. But she still seems off." A shadow of guilt crossed House's face, visible for the briefest moment. "Then it was Thursday, the next day, when I flipped out. She hasn't really had a chance to talk to me. If she even wanted to. Everything's been about the contract or about the initial doses of methadone since then."

"Do you think it's something you've done or just something herself she'd like to discuss with you?"

House shrugged. "If I've done something, I have no idea what. Besides being a jerk this last week, but she expects that. Damn it, I wish women came with instructions."

Jensen laughed. "I've wished that myself. I also wish that, when we did do something, they'd just say so, instead of not talking for a while first."

"Exactly." House sighed. "But how do I get her to talk to me? She's so wound up looking for methadone side effects the last few days that she can't think of anything else."

"Tonight is date night, right? First, I'd tell her directly that Thornton and myself can't tell any negative effects. Have you done that?"

"I didn't even know your opinion before this session."

"I mean with your father. Did you tell her what he thought?" House shook his head. "I'd do that. Add my vote in there, too. She isn't as specifically worried about working acuity as you are, but she would value the opinions on your general response and no obvious side effects so far. It would reassure her, I think. It might help her relax enough on that to move on to what is bothering her. Then I'd just ask her. Start out with an apology; women like those. You realize that you haven't been that approachable the last week, but if she wants to discuss something with you, you are now open and ready to listen. Tonight when you have privacy is a great time to bring it up."

"So I just ask. 'Hey, Lisa, is anything bothering you lately?'"

"Sometimes just asking is the best answer. I'd try it, Dr. House."

"You don't think I'm just imagining things?"

"No, I'll take your word for it. And remember, you said you noticed this before changing anything on the medicines. If you think something besides your treatment is on her mind, that certainly isn't a chemically created worry. It's real."

House relaxed a little. "I'll try talking to her tonight."

"Good luck with it." Jensen looked at his own watch. "We're ten minutes early, but I think we'll quit here. You can be a little early home. The girls will probably go to sleep more easily with a few minutes to see you, and you'll have a smoother exit onto your date. And on the whole, Dr. House, well done this week. You've made a lot of progress."

Jensen stood up, and House was annoyed to find the psychiatrist analyzing him as he stood, too. "I already said I was feeling better. You even told me that before I told you."

"I know, but I've been concerned about you myself. Remember, information is reassuring." Jensen walked over to open the door. "Good night, Dr. House, and I hope you have a good evening."

As he left Middletown and drove home along the smoothly resurfaced highway, House hoped so, too.