A/N: Okay...hi everyone! I'm back with another chapter. Life has been busy, particularly in the work realm. I can now officially say I'm a travelling actor (which is insane)! All the love this story is still getting amazes me and I hope you all know how much I appreciate it! Hopefully almost 2k words and real start with the age regression makes up for the wait.

Also, this chapter picks up directly after the end of chapter seven, so I'd recommend re-reading that if needed. Enjoy!

Greg stumbled out of Nolan's office, only half-processing the world around him. He could tell the receptionist was saying something as he tore through the front door, but he couldn't make out her concerned questions. It was only when Greg was out on the far edge of the parking lot that he allowed himself a moment to breathe. That moment, unfortunately, also happened to be when his brain caught up to the pain he'd caused in his leg.

An uncharacteristic whimper left Greg's lips. In his current state, he was unable to make basic connections, let alone the connections that made him such a sought-after diagnostician. So, he didn't realize he'd left his cane behind or that he could return to Nolan's office to retrieve it. All he knew was that he was in enough pain that standing was becoming impossible and that his dad was mad at him again. Well, that connection was easy enough to make. Whatever he had done was worthy of this level of pain according to John.

Greg knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that his car was in the lot, but his vision was dancing. Whether from whatever it was that just happened in Nolan's office or the flare of pain, he wasn't sure. Either way, he needed to see enough to know the general direction of his vehicle at the very least. He blinked, trying to fix his vision, but it didn't work as well as he would've liked. He really needed to sit down.

Sitting down, as it turned out, was an ambitious goal. What occurred instead was a barely controlled collapse after flitting his eyes around just enough to get his bearings. With Greg's physical collapse came his emotional one. As he made himself as small as possible in the backseat, his pent-up sadness and fear made itself known with chest constricting sobs. Ever mindful of John's potential reappearance and disapproval, though, his tears remained completely silent.

Meanwhile, Nolan was still in his office, desperately trying to do some damage control. He'd fucked up…hard. And he had no idea how to fix it. But he knew someone who might. Grabbing his cellphone, Nolan dialed a number he should have put in his speed dial long before now.

"Doctor James Wilson speaking, how may I help you?"

The man answered the phone quickly, leaving Nolan with less time to collect his thoughts than anticipated. "Uh, yes. Hello. This is Doctor Nolan calling. I, uh, wanted to touch base about House's appointment today…."

Rather than let Nolan continue to stumble through whatever speech he was working himself up to, Wilson granted the psychologist the small, albeit seething, mercy of being cut off. "What did you do?"

Back in the car, Greg was beginning to settle down enough to realize that he had no idea how he was getting home. Driving seemed much too big of a task to tackle right now. He did the only logical thing he could think of next, pulling out his phone.

Wilson was still up in Nolan's office, quite frankly trying not to punch the man when his phone started to ring. "It's him. You can finish attempting to justify what happened later, but I need to take this."

Flipping the phone open, not even doing Nolan the courtesy of taking the call outside, he answers "House?"

A barely steady voice reaches his ear. "Wilson, come get me."

The words sent a chill through Wilson as memories of the not-too-distant past that landed him in Nolan's office in the first place resurfaced. This voice wasn't the hallowed out, haunted voice from that night at the bar all those months ago, though. This voice was small and scared. Wilson couldn't stand it. "Where are you?" Wilson asked, already moving.

"Parking lot. Wilson, I wanna go home!" Wilson swore he could hear sniffling on the other end of the line.

"Alright, alright. Lucky for you, I'm already here. I'll be right there. I promise. I won't hang up until I see you." Wilson wasn't sure why he'd said that last part, but it felt like something House needed to hear.

Sure enough, as Wilson opened the car door, House was clutching the phone to his ear like his life depended on it; he only dropped it upon making eye contact with his friend.

"Wilson!" Greg practically squealed, launching himself at the man for a hug.

"Uh, hi House. This is…new."

"Sorry." House pulled back as if he only now realized what he'd done.

"Hugs and apologizing? God, Nolan really did do a number on you. Let's go home, huh?"

House only nodded as they both climbed back into the car.

For some reason, Wilson felt the urge to buckle House in in the back seat. In fact, he did so on instinct, and the other man seemed not to react the way Wilson had expected him to. Not even a snide comment about Wilson starting to treat him like one of his little cue balls. He just allowed it. Instead of dwelling on it, Wilson got in the driver's seat and started the car. The destination, realistically, should be to their home, but a nagging feeling in him felt the other man needed...something. The decision was made for him though when House whined, actually whined , to go home again. Okay, the something could be found there.

House was just as docile when they pulled up to Wilson's place; he let Wilson unbuckle him and made a shuffling beeline for the bedroom upon getting inside. Wilson let him be, making his own beeline for the kitchen. He'd decided ice cream was the cure to their shitty day.

Entering the bedroom with two bowls, Wilson found House on the floor, a teddy bear he'd never seen before in his lap. Wilson set the bowls down, taking a seat next to House. Not entirely sure what to do with himself, he turned on the charm he used on his younger patients. "Who's this little guy? I don't think we've been properly introduced."

"Bartok Bear." House replied shyly, making his furry friend wave.

"Hello Mr. Bear – it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Wilson reached out to shake the proffered paw.

House giggled a little before his gaze shifted to the bowls of ice cream. "Is... is one for me?"

Wilson nodded and pushed one of the bowls closer to House, taking his own into his hands.

House set down the bear next to himself, so as not to ruin his fur and took up the other bowl. "Thank you." He murmured softly.

The pair settled into silence, the only sound being the clinking of spoons to bowls until they were finished. Well, until Wilson was finished anyway. House still had a small amount in his bowl but pulled Bartok Bear back into his arms anyway. Wilson merely smiled kindly; something told him that he shouldn't interrupt whatever this was. With a quick assurance to House that he'd be right back, he gathered his own dirty dish and moved back towards the kitchen.

The moment Wilson left the room, Greg turned conspiratorially to the bear in his arms and brought the spoon to his snout. "Wilson shared with me, so I'm gonna share with you. Dad would never let us do this!".

"It'll have to be our little secret, then" his companion replied in his mind, a twinkle in his marble eyes.

Unbeknownst to House, Wilson's trip to the kitchen sink had been quick and he'd arrived back in time to hear the quiet words House spoke to his bear while sharing the apparently forbidden treat. While far from the strangest thing a parent could forbid, combined with the events of the afternoon, it certainly gave Wilson pause. Should he be invited to attend House's session again, Wilson would certainly have some questions.

House arrived at his next counselling session alone once again; he didn't need Wilson there as he re-hashed the embarrassment of last week. Before House had even sat down, Nolan was already apologizing.

"House, I'm so sorry for what I put you through last time we met; I thought that age regression therapy would be helpful, but I failed to consider potential triggers that may arise for you. I don't know what happened last week, and you don't have to tell me, but I sincerely apologize – it won't happen again."

"I lost my shit is what happened", House began as he finally sat, "But it wasn't your fault. I never told you about...him."

Nolan didn't pry and House continued after a moment's silence. "John House was a strict, no nonsense, military man. If you were one minute late to dinner, you didn't eat. He'd always been that way, but it got worse the year I turned twelve. Long story, but I figured out he wasn't my real father. He knew that I knew and resented me for it. His solution? Refuse to speak to me for a summer – for two months he only communicated by sliding notes under my bedroom door. And from that point on, he treated me like an inconvenient pest he wanted to be rid of. The memory I went back to last week wasn't even one of his worse moments, but it's stuck all these years later."

When Nolan said nothing, expression caught between shock and sympathy, House again continued, "Like I said, not your fault. I was a mess when I left. I was snuggling the same teddy bear from the memory all night in some vain hope that a stuffed toy would solve all my problems. It was stupid, but Wilson handled it. Haven't talked with him about it; don't plan to. Guess that's another failed experiment to add to the list."

Nolan could only imagine what House's version of being a mess was. He had a rough idea, but the man didn't' seem to want to elaborate so instead he said, "Why do you pay more attention to failures than successes? I consider it a success that you had the courage to come here today and honestly tell me what was bothering you."

"Successes only last until someone screws them up; failures are forever"

"House, I thought we'd moved past that thought process by now."

"Evidently not," House snaps before composing himself again, "I honestly don't know why it's affecting me so much."

"It's hard to move past something that was occurring through your entire childhood." Nolan pointed out.

"Yeah, but it was forty years ago - I should be over it by now."

"You said yourself, failures are forever, and it sounds like your father failed pretty spectacularly as a parent; I'm not surprised it's still affecting you. The axe may not remember, but the tree always remembers what hurt it."

House shrugged, not agreeing, or disagreeing with Nolan's logic and chose to go back to their previous topic. "Maybe it wasn't a failed experiment, but if you're going to have me do that again, let's not do it with my childhood. Let's just make one up, okay?"

"Fine by me. Do me a favour for the next session, though. Bring the bear you were talking about. Perhaps it-"

"He." House interjects, nearly inaudibly.

"Perhaps he" Nolan corrects, "can be helpful to us in not only being more open about your pain but creating the childhood you deserved."