Cause and Effect

His unexpected camaraderie with Thirteen lifted Greg's spirits and left him thinking about Cindy. He had felt a spark between them. Thirteen suggested that Cindy left because of her own issues and not something he did. Was that even possible? Like with seven degrees of separation, all events let to something Greg House did to provoke the action. His father made sure he was very aware of that fact. Could working through that knowledge with Nolan; dealing with the issues of self-blame and self-loathing, ever undo what was reinforced so strongly by his father's words and actions?

Or was he too far damaged? He lashed out verbally, hiding his true anger under bitter sarcasm and razor sharp wit, hoping to cut to the truth. He had even thrown a fist or two at Wilson, at Chase, and now a practical stranger - a woman, no less. Nature versus nurture. John House may not have been his biological dad, but he was Greg's abusive father. Monkey see, monkey do; more like the man he never wanted to be. The self-fulfilling prophesy he so desperately despised.

Greg's mind drifted elsewhere, to the many places and cultures he had been dragged into by his father's military career. He had learned so much as a young boy. Every culture had its ways; it's taboos, rites of passage and punishments. The most disturbing knowledge he came across was in Italy concerning the Opus Dei. The cilice as a means of self-punishment was barbaric. There were so many easier ways to inflict pain without permanently damaging the physical self. Yet he focused on that one element of a spiked band around the thigh, easily manipulated when needed. So real and so debilitating.

He imagined one upon himself. Not such a hard thing to do. Fate had given him his own physiological version. How ironic that life dealt him the appropriate disability. This cilice was controlled by weather, movement and mood. He could feel it constricting, tighter and tighter until he screamed out with pain.

Whether it was the sound of his own shouting or the pain itself that woke him, Greg was unsure. He wasn't even certain of the day or time. Nothing but pain mattered. Before Greg realized what was happening, it was over. He slid back to sleep.

The nurse dropped the used syringe into the sharps container by the door before assisting the second nurse with the traction tension.

"I suppose that rated a ten on the pain scale."

"Maybe an eleven or twelve."

"At least we could give him something to calm he down before we racked him. Wish we could give him some pain meds."

"Maybe they're worried he'll spill some national secrets or something."

"Wonder if he got that scar from being tortured."

"I never thought about that. I just figured…"

The both were watching the monitor to see if his heart rate would come down with the pain relief. But so far it hadn't.

"We should add another half pound."

They did so staying silent for a while afterward.

"His face looks like he's still in pain."

"His vitals indicate discomfort. Can we go higher on the weight?"

The second nurse checked the strapping taped areas of the patient's leg for any signs of skin breakdown. "Up to a half pound more, I'd say."

At four pounds Greg's leg was stretched to the max without damaging internal or external systems. Within a few minutes he seemed to experience relief as far as his heart rate showed. They'd know more in a few hours when the Atavan wore off.

When Greg did wake it was like déjà vu. Nolan was standing at his bedside waiting for him. He felt groggy and sore, unable to focus on anything immediately except for the pressure exerted on his thigh. He wanted nothing more than to rub the stickiness from his eyes, but the restraints were still in place.

"Welcome back." No smiles from Nolan this time.

"Where'd I go?" House looked around to see if it was the same room he started off in. "Did Wilson have me transferred?"

"You're still at Memorial. Yesterday you wanted Dr. Radcliffe to keep you from potentially harming yourself. You wanna talk about it?"

"Old habits die hard." Greg wasn't particularly up for this type of discussion so soon after waking.

"Are you suicidal?"

He shook his head negatively.

"But you wanted to hurt yourself."

"More like punishment. Since I couldn't get the nurses to lay into me…"

"Do you still feel the need for retribution?"

"Not with the way my leg feels."

"If you weren't in pain?"

"Not anymore."

Nolan believed him. He had known his patient had an unusual need for self-castigation in the absence of his father. Greg had spoken of it before; shown signs of the fights he picked so he could lose. He freed House from his shackles.

"Are you going to tell me what got you feeling this way?"

"I thought it was pretty obvious, seeing that I hit a girl and all." The snark was back in full defense mode.

"That was not your fault."

Greg frowned. "Gotta blame someone."

"Why?"

"That's the way it is. Cause and effect."

"What if I tell you the cause was a misfiring of synapses, and the effect was a muscle movement."

"My brain, my body."

"Not consciously. And therefore, not your fault." He saw an argument brewing behind Greg's eyes. "Your body was merely a vessel."

"You make it sound like I was possessed." Greg rubbed the skin around his wrists.

"I'll reserve judgment on possession when I witness your head spinning while you spew split pea soup." Nolan managed a small smile.

"Am I waiting on your clearance in order to get out of here?"

"You want to forego working with the staff here on pain management?" Nolan was surprised. "You're only here for that reason."

"Hopefully it won't be too much longer. I'm getting tired just laying here."

"You go now and there will be no relief. Can't be in traction and not be monitored."

"Can't lay here for eight weeks, either."

"This kind of talk you need to have with Dr. Radcliffe. You and I need to focus on the emotional stuff. Unless you want to be in pain…do you?"

Greg was quiet. He wasn't sure how to answer the question. He hated not being able to control the pain like when he abused Vicodin. The lessening of pain was like missing a friend, one that let you know no matter how miserable life could be, it would never abandon you. It was the symbiotic relationship that he had trouble living without.

"I've suffered chronic pain for so long, I can't remember-"

"You're not just talking about the leg."

"At some point my dad stopped seeing me as just his son and started treating me like one of his recruits."

"You carry your father's baggage making it your own. Did you deserve the punishments he doled out?"

Greg made to answer. Nolan held up his hands. "Before you answer, let me qualify that. Did his punishment fit the crime?"

"Today a parent even threatening to do what he did would be arrested.

"He beat me, trying to break me like the jarheads who challenged him. But I was too young to know the difference between a 'beating' and a 'beat down'."

"What's the worst thing you did?"

Greg had to think about it. "The worst thing according to him or to me?"

"Let's start with the worst thing you think you did." Nolan took a seat giving his patient a chance to think about it without someone hanging over him.

"Nothing I did deserved the type of punishment he dished out. I did worse things he never found out about."

"And the worst thing he thought you did?"

Thinking back, House found it funny - the situation at least. "He found me in a compromising situation with the girl next door."

"He caught you having sex? How old were you?"

"Fifteen, give or take."

"What was the punishment," Nolan asked hesitantly.

Greg swallowed hard. He hadn't thought about the incident since then. He shook his head. "I…I can't."

"He can't hurt you anymore."

"I've never told anybody. It's not even a part of my medical history."

"Should it be?" Nolan stood up, unsure whether he should approach his patient or give him space.

"He was high ranking. Nobody questioned him. He was feared, yet he had a way of making light of a situation, especially if it was embarrassing for him. It garnered a false sense of trust where he needed it, making it that much easier to cover his tracks."

"So it wasn't just a beating?" Nolan turned his attention out the door into the corridor. He wasn't sure he wanted to see Greg's face as he told the story, or if he wanted Greg to see his reaction.

"It was a strategic attack on a particular part of the body." He was hoping he wouldn't have to be any more specific.

"It was bad enough to require medical attention…"

"He didn't think so. My mother found me writhing in pain. She forced him to take me to the infirmary on base."

"I'm guessing there were other injuries that were written off as that of a rough and tumble kid."

Greg nodded. "He had to come up with a good excuse for that one, though."

"Any lasting physical side effects?"

"Just an aversion to steel-toed boots."

"I'm sorry for making you go through that again."

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

"You suffered at his hands for years without anyone to protect you. A parent's betrayal is the worst thing a child can suffer. It leads to so many core pathologies that finding prime adaptive ego qualities takes a lot of work.

"We can't change what happened. We can only work on changing how you process the cause and effect of your actions."