The group gathered once more in Patterson's office Thursday night, Patterson outwardly calm, Jensen outwardly trying to look calm, and House and Cuddy both tense, but it wasn't lost on either psychiatrist that they were sitting slightly closer together.
"Does everybody want to continue with these sessions?" Patterson opened. The question had been asked individually on the phone before, but nothing wrong with a repeat, and the nuances of the answers could be better judged face to face.
"Yes," Cuddy replied quickly. "It . . .helped some. Not how it ended, I mean, but starting to talk about things. We made some progress, I think."
"Dr. House?"
"Might as well. We'd hear about it if we cancelled with the free babysitting service after promising Thursday, too." His tone wasn't as gruff as it had been Tuesday night, in spite of the words.
"Michael?"
"Yes." Jensen's reply was quick and definite. He knew that he needed this even more now than he had Tuesday, needed the contrast to last December and the reminder that for joint sessions to end in death or even just medical complications was extremely rare.
Patterson smiled. "Good. Let's get back on the horse, everybody."
"You're sounding like the old man," House protested. "Speaking of which, how often are you seeing him these days?" Thomas himself was less than a gold mine of information on that subject whenever his son brought it up, though House felt oddly reluctant to push him too hard for details.
"That isn't any of your business until he makes it so," Patterson countered, politely but firmly, and even House had trouble trying to guess the level of their relationship from her response. "Back to tonight, how are you feeling now, Dr. House?"
He tensed up at once, the side trail of Thomas forgotten. "I'm fine," he said.
"Is the prednisone working?" Jensen asked.
"You ought to know. You already called me yesterday to ask." There was a few moments silence in the room, and then House reluctantly answered the question. "Yes. Things are better."
"Good," Patterson said. "How are you feeling tonight, Dr. Cuddy?"
"I'm okay."
"Back to where we were Tuesday. How often have you two had an open conversation about Dr. House's leg?"
House sighed. "Pretty much never," Cuddy answered. "It only comes up at all if he has to talk about it because of something that forces him to."
"How does that make you feel, Dr. Cuddy?"
She reached across to capture her husband's hand. "It doesn't make me pity him, damn it. I was never doing that in the first place. And it doesn't make me think less of him because he's handicapped."
"Good points, but don't answer a question with only negatives," Jensen said.
She tried to gather her thoughts and focus, searching for the best possible way to put this. "It makes me feel shut out. I worry about what he isn't saying and try to fill in the blanks. It makes me think he doesn't trust me."
Her fingers registered the jolt of surprise that went through her husband at that. "Of course I trust you."
"But do you trust her reactions?" Jensen asked. "If you did talk about it now and then, what do you think would happen?"
House shook his head. "Damn it, I don't want our marriage to be just about my leg."
Cuddy gritted her teeth. "It isn't, Greg."
"Then why do we need to talk about it more?"
"We're back to that huge space that lies between everything being about your leg and never mentioning it. Don't you see how much middle ground there is? You jump clear from one side to the other," Jensen told him. Every fiber of the psychiatrist was watching, analyzing, sorting out psychological versus physical tension, but he made himself trust his instincts and push on to the point just a little harder before backing off. "Think about that, Dr. House. Now then, back to something else for a while." House relaxed a fraction. "Dr. Cuddy, why did you take his car that night?"
It was Cuddy's turn to squirm. "I'm not sure," she said. "I just . . . at that moment, I couldn't help it."
"Were you thinking about it in advance? Were you looking for an opportunity to drive it?"
"No. I mean, I was worried knowing something was wrong with it, but I had never considered taking it out for a test drive. I just . . . I was worried about Abby right then, and . . ." She trailed off.
"You wanted to fix something," House filled in. "So you're a mechanic now?"
She turned to face him directly. "Speaking of fixing things, why on earth haven't you taken it to the shop yet? You still haven't had it repaired."
"It's not that bad yet. You just don't have the feel for it; it acted up a lot more with you than it does with me."
She shook her head. "You knew what it was going to do. That night, at the light. You had green to turn, and you started off slowly to give me time to go first so you would be behind me instead of somebody else. You expected it to act up with me even before you saw it happen."
"Because you never drive it. Reasonable deduction that you don't have the feel for it, so any problem that it might have very occasionally would be worse with you than me."
"You need to get it fixed," Jensen said. House's jaw tightened stubbornly.
"Greg, what does that car mean to you?" Cuddy asked.
"I had it before the infarction," he said. He touched his leg lightly. "It's . . . not crippled."
"Neither are you, damn it!" She tightened her grip on his hand. "Why won't you listen to me? And stop using that word. However many times John told you that, it still isn't true."
She felt his retreat, the walls going up higher at the mention of John. "Greg, I do not think of you as crippled. Not in bed, not in life. You have a medical condition. That's all. I wish I had more information on it, but not because I think less of you."
He was silent. After a moment, Patterson said tentatively, "One technique that might possibly help you two out with this would be hypnosis. I'm trained in that. She could focus and clarify her thoughts much better that way, and you could hear her do it."
"Lisa Cuddy would never agree to hypnosis." House said definitely.
That was the moment she knew she really would have to. "Do it now," she said. "Right now. Tonight."
He was startled. "That wasn't a challenge, Lisa. I understand."
"No, you don't understand. That's the whole problem here."
"The whole problem here . . ." He stopped, but his hand had crept toward his leg again.
"Do you really want to?" Patterson asked. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. If that's what it takes, yes. I'll do it."
"Okay." Patterson leaned forward a little. "There are a few things that you need to understand first. Both of you. Of course, this isn't the most common use of hypnosis in therapy. Normally, I'm working with someone on an addiction like smoking or with a phobia. It also teaches relaxation techniques. But I do think it could help in this situation."
"If you're just going to be suggesting things to her," House started.
"No. Actually, Dr. House, the suggestibility during hypnosis has been overrated. You cannot suggest something to someone that goes against their own inner desires or contradicts their personality. For instance, unless someone already really wants to stop smoking, hypnotizing them will be useless to achieve that. You certainly can't hypnotize a perfectly peace-loving person and suggest that he go murder someone. The subject is ultimately still in control of the results."
Cuddy tried to grasp that point. It was the lack of control that frightened her, not any worry about her true thoughts regarding her husband. Patterson smiled at her. "Yes. You will still be in control, Dr. Cuddy. What you will be is more relaxed, much more focused. Your thoughts will become much clearer, even to yourself. All the things that get in the way and cloud them will be lessened. But I cannot tell you anything that you don't want to do yourself."
House was still watching his wife, not the shrinks. She actually was going to do it, he realized, even though he saw how much she disliked the idea. The bravery, the confidence there floored him. Was she that good at deluding herself on her real feelings? "Is there any risk to it?" he asked suddenly.
"No. Well, only in two situations. First, anybody with epilepsy or a seizure disorder does not need to undergo hypnosis. It can lower the seizure threshold."
"I've never had a seizure in my life," Cuddy said.
"What's the second risk?" House demanded.
"A person should never be hypnotized while driving."
"People have done that?" Jaded as he was with humanity's stupidity, that one surprised even House.
"Yes, they have. Not intentionally, at least not that they admit, but things like listening to audio books on self hypnosis while they were driving. It has happened."
"Idiots. The world is full of idiots."
"Aside from those two cautions, it's perfectly safe. And again, I cannot push you any further than you want to go, Dr. Cuddy."
"If that's the case, then what's the point?" House asked. If Cuddy normally wouldn't tell him what she was really thinking, trying to spare his feelings, that brake apparently would still be present under hypnosis.
"I think it could help," Jensen said. House looked at him for a long moment.
Cuddy gathered herself. "All right. Let's get started."
