A/N: Somebody new favoriting this story tonight made me realize that, in my move to Ao3, I have not been posting chapters here. This story hasn't been abandoned, I swear, Just slow going. Working on chapter 9 as we speak. In the meantime, have a chapter dump. Thanks toAlJedd,SimiTheTricksteras well as an older fic on (Bartok Bear), I'm back and I decided to take this story in a new direction. Please note, this story now contains non-sexual age play and mentions of abuse. Enjoy!
Overall, the experiment had gone well, but it wasn't enough. House's vocalizations gave Wilson clues; without being told specific pain levels, though, Wilson was left with only a portion of the picture. For any real change to occur, House would have to begin to outright tell Wilson how he was feeling; House scoffed at the very idea – that was never going to happen, at least not willingly.
Wilson wasn't in session with him today as a patient's appointment couldn't be moved. At first, House was slightly disappointed; he'd grown used to having his friend there. As Nolan's next word's left his mouth, though, House was glad Wilson wasn't around to hear them.
"I know that you're not overly fond of opening up to others," Nolan began, "What if I told you I might have a way to make that easier?"
House didn't say anything, but Nolan could tell his interest was piqued. He also knew House wasn't one for beating around the bush so Nolan simply continued, "I think perhaps an exploration of age regression therapy may be helpful for you. Many people use age regression to cope with…"
House cut him off, exasperation and defensiveness evident in his voice, "I know what it's used for! I did have to pass a psych rotation at one point, after all. Or did you forget you're not the only doctor in the room?"
"Of course, not – it's just not always covered as part of a standard psych rotation."
"Well, it was covered in mine and there's no way in hell I'm trying it; I don't see how going back to a childhood state of mind would help anything."
In fact, House thought bitterly, my childhood was arguably worse than my life now. Besides, it would mean Wilson would have to take care of me – no way that's happening. He does that enough with me as an adult.
Seemingly anticipating House's thoughts, Nolan spoke up, "You wouldn't have to be any younger than you were comfortable with – just enough to allow you to be more open about how you feel, physically or mentally."
House wondered if there had ever been such a time; Blythe had tried to be as supportive and nurturing as she could, but it was a hard thing to accomplish with John undermining her at every turn. If anyone, his piano teacher had been his safe haven. Sitting in the man's living room, baby grand in front of him, as Bartok Bear (a gift from the man and the only toy John ever let him keep) watched dutifully over House's practice sessions….nothing could top that.
A twelve-year-old Greg sat down at the piano in his teacher's living room, Bartok Bear perched on top of it, watching as he played a few notes.
"Been awhile since I've gotten to see you play. You don't practice nearly enough at home" he imagined his companion admonishing gently.
Greg scoffed, letting out a soft affirmative noise.
"Well go on - play me something! I want to see how much you've learned." his mind continued, supplying Bartok Bear's dialogue as he began to play a more complex piece he'd recently started to learn; Greg stumbled through the final half – maybe he did need more practice. Still, his fluffy friend applauded in his mind's eye.
"Oh Gregory, that was lovely! I'm so proud of you!
"You should be proud of yourself," his teacher adds, unknowingly echoing the bear's sentiment from the doorway, clearly having listened in, "Soon enough you'll be playing like a pro."
House blinks, slowly coming back to reality in Nolan's office.
"Well," Nolan chuckles lightly, "I was going to suggest you find a memory that could guide you into a younger headspace, but it appears you already found one."
At House's embarrassed flush, Nolan continued, "This is good, House. Try to get back to the memory, or a similar one, and let yourself stay in it. Keep the feeling of it as the memory ends".
House took a nervous breath but closed his eyes to follow the instructions.
Greg biked home from his lesson (Bartok Bear tucked safely in his backpack, head peaking out to enjoy the view) absolutely bursting with pride. His teacher was impressed, which meant mom would be too! He held no hope for the same feelings from John; he'd long ago learned they'd never come. As he parked his bike by the side of the house, he thought only of his mother's reaction, and he bounded up the steps in anticipation of it. But instead of the warm smile he expected upon his return, he was greeted by the stony face of his "father".
"And just where have you been, young man?" John's voice echoed around him.
"Piano lesson, sir." Greg replied meekly.
"Never understood why your mother put you in those damn things in the first place – what use is the piano? Absolutely none. At least there's an outside shot it'll finally teach you some discipline," John snarled as he roughly yanked Bartok Bear from his perch in Greg's bag. "And what are you still doing with this bear? I thought I said if it was going to stay it was to be kept out of my sight!"
John threw the bear across the room. Greg whimpered in protest as his friend collided with one of his mother's favorite vases, shattering it.
"Not another sound out of you! To your room – you're not to leave until I say so."
"But, sir, I'm hungry. I haven't – "
"What did I just say?", John's voice was a dangerous rumble, "Your room. NOW! I'll be up after your mother has gone to bed."
Greg didn't know what his father had planned, but it certainly wouldn't be pleasant. He quickly rescued Bartok Bear and retreated to temporary safety. Shut away for the foreseeable future, Greg pulled out the jar of peanut butter he'd snuck into his closet for nights like this, tucked Bartok Bear under his arm, and sat with silent tears streaming down his face to await the inevitable.
Though hidden from his remembered abuser, House's tears were very visible to Nolan back in the office.
Shit!, Nolan cursed internally while gently shaking House's shoulder, "House? Come on, come back to me. Whatever's happening, it's in the past; it's not happening right now. You're safe, I promise."
House's eyes did snap open then, but rather than relief, Nolan found fear in them. House quickly recoiled from the hands still on his shoulder, breathing heavily and shaking slightly.
"Greg", Nolan tried, "that was all in your head; it wasn't real."
"But it was real!" House cried, bolting completely out of the office before Nolan could stop him. Only after the door had slammed did Nolan realize that House left his cane behind. Nolan shook his head; whatever that was, it was worse than he'd thought.