House didn't say anything, but he looked away again. Jensen gave him a few seconds, watching his body language, then pushed on. "Dr. Cuddy said that when your mother called Saturday night, she obviously said something that upset you and has been bothering you since."

Relief. Pure relief. House looked back quickly. "Nope. She is absolutely, 150% wrong on that. Mom hasn't come up with anything new. So you two can strike that one off the worry list."

"Do you really think I'm going to accept that?" Jensen asked.

"It's the truth," House protested.

"Very tightly defined, maybe. Okay, I'll change the question. What did you tell her in that conversation that upset you?"

House started fiddling with the handle of his cane. "That was supposed to completely throw you off track." Jensen gave him an apologetic grin but still waited pointedly for an answer. House knew this drill by now, as much as it annoyed him at times. If he absolutely refused to talk about something, Jensen would leave it alone (temporarily), but the psychiatrist would first force him to a direct statement that there was an issue there that he didn't want to talk about yet. Dodging and evasion never worked in sessions. House respected the other man for that even while being irritated by it. "It wasn't something she said," House admitted finally. "At least she didn't start it." Her reaction had been excruciating for him, though.

"So you started it," Jensen stated. "What exactly is the it in question?"

House sighed. "I haven't had a chance to tell you, but we've had some other things come up the last week with the girls. I'm not avoiding things, damn it. This is relevant."

"I didn't say anything," Jensen replied. "I can tell it's relevant." House was a coiled spring right now. Thinking about Saturday morning and his ultimatum to Cuddy had brought on a panic attack, but thinking about whatever this was simply cranked up the tension and insecurity many times over. Not panic, more an odd kind of resolve, but many emotional layers on top of it, too. If House had been like this exiting the bedroom after the phone call, no wonder Cuddy had concluded - correctly even if with directions reversed - that it was bothering him.

"Abby." An odd shimmer of pride through the tension. "Abby suddenly inserted herself into Rachel's piano lesson one night. The first time, she could do perfectly what Rachel hasn't been able to learn and retain over months. I've worked with her a few times since. The kid is a musical genius. She's young, of course, and her hands can't even reach anything like chords. She'll have to grow some. But it's there. I can tell, even now."

"And Rachel doesn't have it," Jensen concluded.

House gave a bittersweet smile. "She tries. She wants it so badly. But no, I don't think she has any sense of tonality or rhythm at all. Even when she bangs, it isn't on a steady beat, and she's not hunting for a steady beat, just happy to make noise. It is noise, not music, and she's satisfied with that as long as she's not comparing herself to my playing. I actually wrote a C on her little piano Thursday night to help her find C. In six months, she hasn't been able to find middle C, not even during a lesson, much less retain it. She could at least find it marked, but she couldn't go anywhere from it still. I know she's young, but I don't think she has any musical talent whatsoever. And Abby clearly does, and Abby's going to pass her like a Corvette going around a Model T on the highway in lessons."

"That is a challenge," Jensen agreed. "It's only natural that Abby was more likely to share your talent, though."

"I know once I thought about it. The odd thing is, I don't even think of Rachel as adopted anymore. I'd forgotten there are a few areas where genetics actually are going to be relevant."

"So what have you done about it?"

"Well, that first night, Rachel tackled Abby, and they got into a full fight. Rachel was yelling that Abby had touched her piano. So I brought home that roll-up keyboard you gave me, and I gave that to Abby. Each girl with her own, and they aren't allowed to touch each other's. We also agreed to split up lessons. The other girl will go out of earshot and do something with Lisa. They don't need to be watching the other one in lessons; Rachel would resent Abby that much more, and Abby couldn't help trying to correct Rachel. Trying to correct Rachel is what kicked this off in the first place. But I have to start working with Abby. Now that I know she's got it, I can't shut her out of that world. I wish I'd noticed sooner how much she was watching."

Jensen nodded. "Separating them is an excellent idea, as is a separate piano. But even alone, it's still not working for Rachel?"

"No. She's so frustrated. Lisa suggested maybe a different teacher, and we might try that at some point. But I really think there isn't any musicality there. Then Lisa said something Thursday that got me thinking." Jensen noted with interest that Cuddy was always Lisa in this unspooling tale. Even though it wasn't mentioned yet, he thought a lot of House's insecurity and tension with this topic hinged on her. "She said that she didn't think Rachel wanted the music so much as she just wanted to be like me, and that's what she sees me doing that's distinctively me."

"She's probably got a point. That's a very good analysis."

"Yeah. She went on to say that if Rachel saw my other interests or talents, she might accept them as a substitute for music." House looked down at his hands, stilled at the moment but clutching the cane tightly, his knuckles white. "The trouble is, I haven't got other interests or talents. Other than being a doctor, and Doogie Howser aside, a kid does NOT become a medical practitioner. Not even as a teen. Even if she is talented medically, doing anything with it is a couple of decades down the road after years and years of training."

Jensen considered protesting that House hardly was limited to two talents, but he didn't want to derail this story now that it was unfolding. House was already crackling with tension. "So what did you decide to do?"

House resumed drumming his fingers on the cane. "I used to be able to do things physically. Before my leg. I played lacrosse; I ran." He blinked a few times. "Damn it, I was good at it, too. I loved it. And thinking about Rachel, at the moment, that's what I see more of in her. So much energy and motion. She runs just for the joy of it when we're outside or we go to the park. I think she's probably more likely to excel at some kind of athletics than she is with music. Only she doesn't associate those things with me, because to her, I've always been the slow old guy with the cane."

He paused for a minute, and Jensen left it alone, just trying to project warm support but not pushing him. House continued. "There are some pictures from when I was younger. Even one DVD. It was camcorder at first, of course, but Mom came once to a lacrosse game my senior year and taped part of the game. She gave it to me. It was converted to DVD eventually, but I don't have it anymore. After my leg, when I had just gotten home, I took all the sports pictures I had of myself and that DVD, and I threw them away. Stacy fished them out of the trash and sent them back to Mom. I didn't speak to her for a week." The silence lengthened again. Jensen reached across and touched him lightly on the arm, warm, reassuring contact, but said nothing. House looked startled at first, but he didn't pull away. "Saturday night, I asked Mom to mail me those pictures and the DVD, and she said she would today. Of course, that was after I had to endure five minutes of how glad she was that I was ready to see them again." He didn't feel ready, but this wasn't for him, so what he felt didn't matter.

"You're going to show them to Rachel," Jensen concluded.

House nodded. "I need to. I need to do something for her so she finds an activity she can associate with me and won't resent Abby as much."

Jensen squeezed his arm. "Dr. House, that is a marvelous idea. Again, I am so impressed with how you're handling things here. And for what it's worth, I agree with you on Rachel. Athletics might even eventually steady her a bit and impose self-discipline that way. She's young, of course, but in time."

"Right." House remembered the joy of running, finding a rhythm, of systematically training his body and feeling it respond. Not at 2 1/2 but some day, maybe Rachel could share that and be like him. "But I'm..." He trailed off again. He couldn't quite say the word scared, not openly.

Jensen heard it anyway. "Letting your daughters see you before you were disabled isn't going to change their esteem at all. They will still prefer the version they get now. The only thing it will do, like you said, is let Rachel identify you with other activities that she isn't able to see you do now." He watched House's expression. "But you're worried about Dr. Cuddy, too, aren't you?"

House abruptly moved, and Jensen let go of his arm as he hauled himself to his feet. He took a couple of limping circles of the office, stretching out his leg, and finally came to a stop at the balcony door. He suddenly came to attention as he realized that Wilson was standing at his own balcony door obviously trying to see into House's office without being obvious. House gave him an inquiring glare, and the oncologist immediately disappeared.

Jensen waited until Wilson had apparently stopped spying on them to go on. "What has she said to you this week that bothers you so much about your leg?" Jensen asked. The psychiatrist was still seated.

House's shoulders drooped. "I couldn't even count those. Little comments all over the place, what I can't do, what I'm not up to anymore."

"She was in denial of her own fears. She didn't mean that she found you inadequate now. She was tied up in her reaction to Tuesday night."

"I know, damn it." He shook his head. "Logically, I know that."

"But logic has not much to do with emotions, and it still hurt intensely to have her say that. Have you told her that?"

"She knows it. She's apologized for that specifically. She even said that's not what she thinks."

Jensen stood up, closing the gap and coming to stand beside him. "But you still think she might be deluding herself, like you phrased it earlier?"

House stared through the glass, not looking at the man by his side although he was pathetically glad that Jensen had come to join him. "She saw me. Before the leg, I mean. She's actually seen me running, playing lacrosse. A long time ago, though, and maybe she's forgotten what it was like. What if seeing that again makes her realize . . ."

"It won't, Dr. House."

"She said she was disappointed in me," he said quietly. "And that wasn't even about the leg that time."

"May I make a suggestion?" Jensen asked.

House turned toward him eagerly, glad for any practical advice out of this jam instead of just more recited reassurance that Cuddy hadn't really meant what she said. "Yes."

"Separate her from Rachel. This is getting too much for you, both issues at once. When that DVD and those pictures come, go over it with Dr. Cuddy alone first."

That wasn't the kind of solution he really wanted. "There's not any easier way?" He dreaded Cuddy seeing it even more than he did the girls. "Maybe I could do that backwards somehow, get Rachel alone first. She could never keep a secret, though, not even five minutes."

"No. You need to see Dr. Cuddy's reaction and deal with that before you show it to your daughters. Trust her, Dr. House. She didn't mean what she said. And I also think telling her specifically some of her remarks would help clear things between you."

"She already feels guilty. I don't want to rub it in."

"Part of what she feels guilty about is that she knows she intensely hurt you, and she knows you are trying to minimize it. She can't start to heal from her guilt until you allow yourself to admit to her what she's done. Downplaying things isn't going to help her, Dr. House. But trust me, she will not feel like she made a bad bargain when she sees your former self. She prefers the version she's got now."

The cell phone rang right then, Cuddy's ring tone. "It's her," House said. "Probably wants to make sure I'm still alive."

Jensen nodded. "I'll leave you. We've done as much as we need to in one gulp anyway, possibly more. Just remember, Dr. House, good job coping with this past week." With a parting smile, the psychiatrist turned away and left the office.

House pulled out the cell phone. "Hi, Lisa. I'm okay."