"Dr. House, good to see you. You are looking much better." Jensen held the door into his inner office open. House took the chair with the ottoman again, and Jensen sat down next to him. "How are you feeling?"
"Good as new," House said, flinching as he used his two injured arms awkwardly to bring his bruised leg up to the ottoman. Jensen had a private smile for that, firmly hidden. He had already come to his own conclusion that House would downplay anything physically by several powers.
"How was the week staying with Dr. Cuddy?" Jensen asked.
"You don't need to be subtle; she already told me that she called you when I flipped out Tuesday morning." House made direct eye contact, unusual for him in these sessions. "Thanks for not trying to fix me by phone."
"You're welcome. I didn't think it would work."
House shook his head. "I don't think it would have. Don't like surprises. I'm not even sure I would have heard you. I heard her, but that was almost at a distance, and she was right there, not on the phone."
"Were you hearing anything else just then? I'm not limiting that to hallucinations. Memories can be auditory."
House had looked down at his hands again. He considered for a minute, then nodded. "Rachel crying. I was still remembering her crying, even after she wasn't, and I was hearing my father, or remembering hearing him."
"What were you remembering him saying?"
House stalled. "Could I have a cup of coffee?"
"Certainly." Jensen got up and picked up his own cup from the desk, getting a cup for both of them from the machine in the corner. He returned and handed House's to him, then sat back down, waiting patiently. He would have prompted some patients, but House just needed space in which to answer.
"Crying," House replied finally. "I only tried it a few times, and it always made things worse. Dad would tell me how weak it was, and he would raise the punishment. Any consequences doubled. I had to be silent, like a good soldier." That last part was obviously a direct quote. "When Rachel started crying . . . I . . . I was afraid . . ."
"You were afraid of both having made her cry, possibly signifying pain, and that if you attempted to quiet her, you might be forbidding any expression as your father did?" House nodded after a minute.
Interesting that he seemed to associate crying, at least as a child, purely with punishment. "Can you recall any occasion in your childhood when you cried, other than the few times initially that you cried while being hurt by your father?"
House had to stop and think about it. Finally, he shook his head.
"Never? Never when you had been hurt otherwise, or when you were just unhappy? Did you have any relatives who died while you were growing up?"
"One grandmother." House smiled slightly. "I called her Oma."
"You connected with her?"
"We stayed with her once. Mom and me. Dad was off somewhere we couldn't go. Yes, I connected with her. She was the first adult I'd met whom I felt understood me. I couldn't get her mad, either."
"You tried?"
He nodded. "Almost as a scientific experiment. She would correct me for things if I deserved it, but she'd never get mad. I could not make her mad."
"You had no prior experience of loving discipline from adults?" House shook his head. "What about your mother?"
"She was the classic wait until your father gets home. Which actually was a pretty good deterrent. I tried to be good for her, to avoid that."
"What was your response when your grandmother died? Did you go to the funeral?"
"We were in another country, and we didn't find out until later. The letter got lost - we did move around a lot. At least Dad said it got lost. I wondered if it really did. It could have."
"Did you ever cry for her, after you found out?"
House shook his head. "I got mad. I went out and threw rocks at my father's car."
"Deliberately seeking punishment?" House didn't respond to that. "For what? Why would you feel you should be punished? Or is it that you wanted to cry for her but did not know how, so you deliberately put yourself in a situation where you could not do so and had to control the impulse?" A muscle high on the side of House's face twitched there, but he still was studying his hands. "Did you ever in your lifetime see your father cry?"
"Of course not. I doubt he ever did."
"Probably inaccurate. To be that consistently strict on that subject was most likely a ban on himself that extended over to you. I would hazard a guess that he did cry when he was younger and had severe consequences, either from his own parents or from a close family friend who was not truly a friend. This Oma, was she his mother?"
House shook his head. "My mother's mother. Dad's parents were already dead. I never knew them." His head tilted slightly. "I cannot picture my dad crying. Ever."
"When was the last time that you yourself cried?"
House immediately looked embarrassed. Jensen let the silence extend. "Yesterday," he replied finally. "And the day before, too."
"Why? What happened on those days?"
"Not yesterday," House said, abruptly slamming a gate across that pathway. He wasn't ready to address Wilson's letter yet, still processing it, and part of him felt that when he was ready, he really ought to respond to Wilson himself, not discuss it with Jensen beforehand.
"Okay. Wednesday, then," Jensen said amiably. House looked startled. "Nobody is going to force you into anything. I realize this whole setting is new and difficult for you, and you are doing very well with it. If you aren't ready to talk about some things, we will leave it for now and return to those down the road."
"That doesn't . . . annoy you?" House asked.
"Not at all. Why do you expect it to?"
House immediately dodged. "Wednesday morning." He paused and took a gulp of his coffee. "I woke up early and wanted to let Cuddy sleep. Turned off the alarm clock. Rachel made a noise, and I went to check on her, but she was just dreaming. So I sat there and watched her sleep for a while, with all her toys, in her neat little room. It just . . . got to me. I don't even know when I started crying."
"You were surrounded by everything you didn't have as a child," Jensen commented.
"Exactly."
"That's good. Crying is one of the most common means of expressing grief, among other things. There is no shame in it."
"I disturbed her, though."
"The child?" House nodded. "Wasn't it getting close to usual time for her to wake up anyway?"
"Yes. So I went to get her a bottle. I managed to feed her in the crib without picking her up. Can't do that safely yet." House held out both arms in illustration. "She didn't mind, though. I was talking to her, even singing a bit later to keep her occupied, but she didn't wake her mother up. She wasn't holding Tuesday against me."
"Why should she? From what I gathered from Dr. Cuddy, you hurt yourself somehow, cried out, and dropped her bottle, and she started crying. That is purely a startle reaction, or even annoyance at losing the bottle. I doubt she remembered it 5 minutes later. How did you hurt yourself, by the way?"
"She kicked me in the leg. She didn't mean to. It was just an accident."
"You absolve her so easily and yet not yourself?" House was silent again. "Startling her was just as much of an accident. You are no more at fault in that than she was. The idea of caring for a child terrifies you, doesn't it?"
House took another few swallows of coffee. "How do I know I won't become him?" he asked after the silence had lengthened for a minute.
"How do you know you will?" Jensen reversed.
"I don't know. But there is a chance. I've read the statistics. Cuddy showed me how differently my father would have reacted on Tuesday, if it had been me and him. So that once, it was okay. But how do I know down the road?"
"The very fact that you worry so much about it is a strong indication that you won't."
"But there is no guarantee."
"Of course not. There are very few guarantees in life. But there are very strong probabilities, even strong enough to near statistical certainties. I have a child myself, a daughter. She's 7 years old. I would have no qualms whatsoever letting you babysit her, just after a few sessions, and believe me, the same is not true of the majority of my patients."
House was startled into eye contact again. His eyes dipped to Jensen's bare left hand after a minute. "You're not married."
"No. Divorced three years ago. Contrary to what you might believe, many psychiatrists have their own relationship problems. It's common across the medical field. So much demand, so much pressure on the job, and the spouse often gets the leftovers of time and energy. But we're still friends, and my daughter is the light of my life." Jensen looked directly at House. "And you are, both in my professional judgment after 15 years in practice and in my personal judgment as a father, thoroughly trustworthy with children. I imagine you get along with them much better than you do adults, actually."
House was still looking a bit stunned. "Does Dr. Cuddy seem to have doubts about you with her daughter?" Jensen asked.
House flinched sharply there. "Not that I would abuse her."
"What then?" Clearly Jensen had stepped on an unmarked mine.
House hesitated, and his right hand crept to his thigh. "She thinks I can't handle it physically."
Jensen was surprised. "What gave you that idea?"
"She, um, yelled at me yesterday morning. Gave me a list of exactly what I couldn't do physically and how I wasn't safe to stay with Rachel alone."
"That doesn't sound like her at all, just from my own limited observations of her. In what context did she say that?"
"She got a call from the hospital that a donor wanted to meet with her personally and was rethinking his contribution. She refused to go, too busy babysitting us. I offered to keep Rachel for an hour or so while she went to the meeting, and she lost it and told me I was crazy for thinking that might work and that I wasn't able to keep her, couldn't even pick her up. Cuddy hadn't had enough sleep all week. Wound up breaking down in tears and falling asleep shortly after that. She slept the whole afternoon, and then I convinced her to take one of my sleeping pills last night."
Interesting that House immediately provided an excuse for Cuddy, even right on the tail of describing her outburst. Jensen was fascinated with how forgiving House was of people other than himself. "So she was exhausted and under stress from work. Did she apologize?"
"Almost immediately."
"Did she say that she didn't truly mean it, that you were just the unfortunate recipient of displaced stress?"
"Yes."
"And yet you think she spoke the truth?"
"I know she spoke the truth. I couldn't even pick Rachel up. I had to call Wilson when Cuddy fell asleep later."
"So you called for reinforcements. That is a very valuable function to perform. It sounds like you handled the whole situation admirably, and the physical limitations with your arms are temporary. Dr. Cuddy's annoyance was more a product of exhaustion than a genuine opinion of your capabiltiies. Why should you be blamed for temporary injuries?"
"I'll never be able to run or do things like that. That's not temporary."
"They aren't required for a parent, either. The major qualification isn't an undamaged body but love for the child. If you love a child, that child doesn't care if you have one, two, or four good legs." House grinned slightly at the image, although he still looked a bit dubious. "Back to Dr. Cuddy's statements yesterday, even if badly expressed, that was not a general criticism of you, just a very temporary limitation." House was silent. "Could it be that you cannot understand how she could trust you with her child, from the abuse point, and so are looking for other ways in which she doesn't feel you are qualified, trying to unearth the problem you are sure must exist somewhere?" No reply. Jensen reversed it, just to get a response. "Do you trust her?"
House answered immediately, as Jensen had predicted. "Yes."
"Why?"
"She is the most capable, beautiful, trustworthy person I've ever met. You should see her at the hospital, working through problems. She's a problem solver. Much better administrator than she is a doctor, but she knows how to work things out, knows how to be successful, professionally and personally. She has my medical proxy. She was the one I left a message for when I got shot, right before I fell unconscious, that I wanted an experimental treatment while I was out. I knew she would respect my wishes and make any decisions that were needed."
Jensen had a hidden smile for that beautiful irresistibly stuck in there, a quality which had nothing to do with trustworthiness and yet which House could not resist adding to any list about his boss. "You trust her even though she injured you badly a few weeks ago with a thoughtless prank?"
"I pushed her to it," House insisted. "It was my fault."
Jensen switched strategies, striking for what he thought was at the core of many of House's issues. "Dr. House, I'm going to give you some homework for this session."
House smiled slightly, grasping what he thought was a change in subject. "I'm already behind on last time's assignment. I haven't thrown out Mom yet."
"You've been sick. Your first priority this week was getting well. We'll come to your mother in a minute; I'm sure you do want to talk about her before you discuss things face to face." Jensen was, actually, privately amused that House gravitated to the subject of Cuddy and Rachel so unerringly, even when he no doubt did come intending to discuss his mother. "But this is a very short assignment. In fact, I'd ask you to do it now, but I think it will require more thought than that."
House's curiosity was getting piqued. "What is it?"
"List five things that you like about yourself. Go on and try it."
House started to tick a list off on his left fingers. "I'm a hell of a doctor. I . . . I'm a good musician." He stalled there on the second finger, the others flexing slightly as they waited.
Both of which were things he did, not qualities of his character, Jensen noted. "Not that easy, is it?" he stated. "Keep working on it. Also, as an extension of that exercise, I'd like you to ask one other person that question, five things that they like about you." Jensen privately had no doubt at all whom House would pick, which made the exercise even more valuable and would give him a counterbalance for yesterday's unfortunate and frustrated list of physical restrictions.
House was still staring at his fingers, two down, the remainder waiting. He was clearly floundering.
Jensen took pity on him and changed the subject himself, knowing that House would not forget. "Getting down to your mother. Have you talked to her at all this week by phone?"
"Daily, like you suggested. She started out reorganizing my apartment to keep busy, and then the next day, after I made her promise to stop, she tried to fix it." House sighed. "I hate to think what it looks like. I'll see that tonight."
"If I may hazard a guess, I'd say you probably have very many things but on a system, even if a complicated one." House looked startled. "Logical extension. You weren't permitted to have many things as a child. So your mother tried to reorganize them?" House nodded. "Did she agree to stop when you told her to?"
"Yes. At least she said she did. I've been suggesting things the rest of the week to keep her busy, tourist attractions and such."
"Does she enjoy tourist attractions?"
"Loves them."
"Interesting."
"Why?"
"You mentioned in an earlier session that you lived all over the world as a child. She never went sightseeing in the different countries?"
House shook his head. "She had friends. She saw people, not things. She was in little clubs and such, military wives on the bases. But yes, she hardly ever went anywhere. She did have a few books, atlas of historic sites and such. We went over them together dozens of times, doing mind travel. She and Dad took a few trips since his retirement, but traveling with Dad was probably almost being in the military again. I'm sure he would have itineraries down to the minute. She's started travel with a vengeance in the last year, though."
"That might be one of her own reactions after your father's death. Maybe travel was a childhood dream she always had, only under spontaneity, not military discipline. I imagine that her spontaneity in anything was restricted while married to your father This isn't just a neat curiosity; it's something you might be able to use to your benefit. Emphasize how much her life would be limited in Princeton, especially given your demanding job. She would no doubt be bored. I'm sure she already is."
House nodded slowly. "Good idea. She also seems to react to direct orders, like you said, even though I hate sounding like him."
"You associate any direct, firm instruction with him?" House considered it. "What were you like in school?"
"Bored."
"Given your intelligence, that's not surprising. Were your grades good, though?"
"Mostly. Sometimes I would tick a teacher off. Especially when they wanted to go step-by-step through problem solving, or when I saw a better answer than the one they were offering."
"You jumped clear from beginning to end without the middle steps?"
House nodded. "I guess the middle steps were there, but I never really thought about them. Having to list them out was annoying. Having to hear other students try to understand them and work at it was even more annoying."
"Describe your relationship with your mother during childhood."
House considered it. "She was totally oblivious, but she was there. She would try to do little things for me sometimes, my favorite foods and such. Dad objected to having toys and all, but she tried to throw in special things when he wasn't looking. She always lectured me on trying to get along with him better, but she didn't know."
"And you didn't mind her lack of knowledge?"
"It let me . . . pretend, I guess."
"Did you ever debate telling her?"
A shudder ran over House, clearly visible by Jensen a few feet away. "No." The silence lengthened, and then he continued. "Dad said if anybody found out, especially her, he would kill her and make me watch. I . . . I believed him. I knew he had killed people."
"Did he tell you it would be your fault?"
"Yes."
"Do you believe that? Right now, not then, not as a child. Do you think if he had, that what he did would have been your fault?"
House took a good minute to answer that. His breathing had accelerated, too. "No?" he said finally, his tone more a question than an answer.
"Right. His actions - and his threatened actions - were not your fault. None of them." Jensen decided it was time to back off. House was getting too upset there, justifiably so, but pushing him to break down in a session would have no therapeutic value at this point. "What is your best memory with your mother?"
House grabbed at that question like a drowning man seizing a life preserver. "The music."
"Your mother was musical?"
"Not really. She could play a little bit, pick out tunes. Not great at it. But she got me lessons with a friend of hers, and I loved it, took to it like a fish to water. She took me to my first concert - Rachmaninoff's Second Piano Concerto." Jensen smiled, remembering that that was House's ringtone for Dr. Cuddy. "That was the one area where I remember her directly standing up to Dad. He thought music was sissy and weak."
"Have you talked to your mother about music since? Have you told her that was a good memory?"
House nodded. "The week Rachel was so sick."
"And you yourself," Jensen pointed out.
"She brought me something to eat one night. Asked me if anything positive was going on, and I told her about the concert and asked if she remembered the music from when I was young."
"You're talking about a more recent concert?"
"I took Cuddy to hear it, our one date."
"The perfect date." House nodded. "Did you tell Dr. Cuddy then about your childhood musical memories and what it meant to you?" He nodded again. "Did you tell your mother about your building relationship with Dr. Cuddy?"
"No. I mentioned going to the concert but implied I went alone."
"Why? That definitely seems like a positive thing in your life."
"It might . . ." House trailed off.
"Might still go wrong?" Jensen suggested. House was silent. "Dr. House, I would very strongly recommend that you tell your mother you are dating Dr. Cuddy. Even just in general, even if you don't identify her."
"You think she wouldn't ask questions and insist on knowing who?"
Jensen smiled. "I'm sure she would. But do you realize that is a very strong piece of ammunition in your request for your mother to leave Princeton?"
House tilted his head. "The fact that I'm dating somebody, even if unidentified, would make Mom more likely to leave?"
"Highly likely. She is right now trying to recapture your childhood, trying to take care of you. That would serve the dual purpose of reminding her that you are an adult and of demonstrating to her that you are not alone and have someone to take care of you when needed."
House shook his head. "She'd want to interfere."
"Actually, I doubt it. She no doubt has been hoping for years that you would get into a successful relationship, has come near giving up on you at this stage, and if told such a relationship was building, she would be afraid of possibly doing anything to derail it, especially in the initial stages. She'd be worried about scaring you off by pushing. She would probably want reports, but I truly believe that reports from a distance would keep her at a distance."
House was staring at Jensen again. "You're saying that the one area where she is least likely to want to help out is my love life?"
"I believe so." House looked dubious. "You have said how your father predicted a constant stream of relationship failures to you. Don't you think he said the same about you to your mother many times over the years?"
House nodded slowly. "Probably he did."
"Your mother, I'm sure, did not want to believe him but did not want to defy him or contradict him directly. But due to that constant forecast, if she knew that a relationship was building, she would be very much afraid to intervene, not because she thinks you are doomed to failure, but because she thinks she might, by interference, scare you off, scare you into self-fulfilling your father's false prophecy. That is the point of your life she is most likely to stand back and watch from a distance. Especially with regular even if nondetailed updates, like I said. If she sees success building, she will stay away from it and admire it long distance. But in order to play that card, you must tell her that you are in a relationship."
House considered that. "I'm . . . not sure if this is a relationship yet."
"Do you want it to be?"
"Yes." No hesitation, although still some doubts lingering under the tone as to his ability.
"Does Dr. Cuddy want it to be?"
"She . . . I think so."
"Sounds like the beginnings of a relationship to me. I would even say the beginnings of a serious relationship, because I doubt either one of you participates in them casually."
House smiled suddenly. "So you think that succeeding in a personal relationship will help keep my mother away?"
"Yes. And would have many other benefits as well, of course. I realize you've had a very trying couple of weeks here, but you have said that your one date with Dr. Cuddy was perfect. Why don't you ask her out again?"
"Actually, I already have."
Jensen smiled at him. "And she agreed, I'm sure."
"Sort of." Jensen raised an eyebrow. "She wants to plan the evening this time and make it right for me, she said."
"I think you've definitely met all criteria for the beginnings of a relationship. Now tell your mother that." Which also, although Jensen did not say so, would have the side benefit of making it more real to House. Telling somebody else outside the two participants is a very important step.
House considered. "Maybe I will. Let's see, hypothetical conversation here. Mom, don't pass out, but I'm actually finally seeing somebody, so get lost, and I'll call you weekly to tell you how it goes."
Jensen laughed. "Or words to that effect. Be direct. Tell her you are seeing someone, even if unidentified. Tell her how much else there is for her in life beyond Princeton. She will listen to you, I think. But you will have to stay in touch once she leaves. Weekly calls are a good idea. Continue talking about your past in small doses as you can, but talk more about your present and your future." He glanced at his watch. "We're out of time, and I think the best possible note to end on is a defined plan for that conversation. Do you feel comfortable with this now?"
House shook his head. "Not really, but maybe I can do it anyway."
"I'm sure you can." Jensen stood up and watched as House heaved himself to his feet. His leg had stiffened up on him during the session. Jensen deliberately turned away, taking his coffee cup and House's over to the machine in the corner, not watching as House got his balance securely underneath him.
"Next Friday won't work," House said. "Reserved for Cuddy."
"Would you rather take Thursday or Saturday?"
House debated it. "Thursday," he said after a minute.
Jensen checked his book. "Thursday at the same time is available. And remember, you can call me sooner if you need to. Now go throw out your mother." He didn't mention the other assignment, the list of five things, but he knew House wouldn't forget.
"Thanks," House said a bit awkwardly. He turned to leave.
Jensen stood alone in the office for a minute, savoring the feeling of slow but definite progress with a complicated patient. Even though it had cost him his marriage, sometimes he truly loved this job. With a sudden smile of anticipation, he quickly gathered his coat and headed out, going out to pick up his daughter and take her to the movies tonight.
