Life continued on mostly as normal in the days leading up to House's next session with Nolan (which Wilson had been asked to attend). The only thing different was that Wilson really was making an effort to continue checking in with House more often. He was still flabbergasted by just how much of daily life caused House pain and how much House seemed to just work around it without a second thought. This impressive display of nonchalance was still on Wilson's mind when the pair arrived in Nolan's office.
"Hello gentlemen." Nolan greeted warmly, "House, you're looking better."
House nodded but, Wilson noted with interest, neither agreed nor disagreed with Nolan's statement. He merely sat down in his usual chair without saying a word. He must be feeling worse than he looks, thought Wilson. Nolan didn't push the issue further; he sat down opposite House and Wilson, asking only "How's the week been?"
Following the pattern of the previous session, Wilson spoke up first. "It was certainly eye-opening."
"What he means is," House interjected, "he spent the whole week spying on me and now thinks I'm even more pathetic than he did last week."
Nolan looked at Wilson for confirmation, quite sure that wasn't the case. His suspicions were confirmed when Wilson immediately jumped on the defensive.
"No, not at all! In fact, quite the opposite. This week has shown me how strong House really is." House rolled his eyes at that; Wilson continued, "Seriously House, I had no idea how much it took for you to get through a day."
House squirmed a little in his chair. Nolan noticed. "How do Wilson's words make you feel, House?"
House shrugged, "It's really not that big a deal. I'm just used to it."
"Do you remember what it's like not to be in pain?" Wilson asked out of the blue.
"No," House replied almost inaudibly, "and I'm not sure I want to."
Both Wilson and Nolan gave him puzzled looks, but remained silent so he continued.
"Wilson, remember when you and Amber got a new mattress? After one night on that firm piece of crap, you came hobbling over to me to complain. After briefly accusing you of mocking me, you told me your back was 'killing' you. Realistically, you were probably at a three on the pain scale, but that was bad for you. That's what I'm afraid of. Right now, I can function through a six if I have to; a three is just baseline constant at this point. In fact, it's honestly less than my typical baseline – three barely even registers anymore. If I were to get a reprieve from the pain and then have it come back, I'm afraid my current three would feel like a ten. It'd be like living through the infarction all over again. I'll take familiar pain over a taste of freedom that could get snatched away at any moment; the Ketamine failing taught me that lesson."
House's words were couched in logic, but tinged with sorrow and resignation. Pain was his life. No matter how much he wished to, nothing was going to change that.
A/N: I know….just over 500 words; barely a chapter by this story's standards. That felt like a good place to end it, though. I'll have more up soon (ish) I'm sure.