A/N: Bit of a shorter chapter, but it seemed like a good place to break it off. Plus, I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing with this next yet and didn't want to keep you all waiting forever again. Anyway, enjoy!
"I still just can't believe a med student House only had for a year was better at checking in with him than I've ever been." Wilson lamented upon telling Nolan of the events following their session the previous week.
"To be fair," Nolan began, "this young woman was a fresh set of eyes when it came to House and she didn't have much of a chance to grow accustomed to his disability's affects on him. In this case, maybe that was a good thing."
Wilson hesitated, "I suppose. I guess it just makes me feel like I've lost my touch".
"I think you lost your touch the second your focus switched from helping me through pain to keeping me off the drugs", House snapped, "as long as you don't see me popping pills, you get to pretend I'm completely fine".
Nolan cut Wilson off before he could even attempt to defend himself. "I think House may have a point. My primary job as his psychiatrist is to keep House mentally and emotionally well enough to continue his sobriety, thus retaining his medical license; you, I'm guessing years before I even came into the picture, were simply mitigating the damage of his dependence on Vicodin. With those objectives in mind, neither of us really has any reason to focus on House's actual pain in the process. That needs to change if you want to regain your 'touch', as you put it. And if I want to develop anywhere near the amount of observation skills you once had, I will also need to change my mindset going forward. Wilson, you checking in more with House after our first session together was a good start, but it needs to happen more consistently. That is going to require a conscious effort from both of us. House, it may require your assistance as well."
"How so?"
"Well, in order for us to learn what pain looks like for you now, you may need to vocalize it a bit more for the first little while. Tell us when you're in pain so that we can be made aware and help if needed. I know that could be difficult since you seem to be the type of person that won't even let out a groan unless things are really bad, but I promise you it will be immensely helpful for us all."
House scoffed, "If I actually said the words 'ouch, that hurts' every time my leg actually did, I would never shut up."
Normally Wilson would lighten the mood by pointing out that House rarely shut up regardless, but the admission made his stomach sink enough to hold his tongue.
"Okay," Nolan allowed, "maybe full sentences would be impractical, but any form of vocalization would do. Allow your grimaces and clenched teeth to relax with sound."
Though Nolan's instructions sounded a bit like those of a slightly unhinged drama professor, House could see the logic behind them. He'd give it a shot. Satisfied with that, Nolan brought the session to a close and got to witness the first implementation of his exercise almost immediately.
House stood up and let out a low moan as his leg protested the movement. Both men looked at him in concern and Wilson dared to ask, "You okay?"
"Yeah, just sitting too long."
Wilson nodded. Nolan, having never even thought of that being an issue, suggested he could freely move around the office as needed in future sessions and bid them both a good day.
Moans, groans, hisses, and occasional curse words that had nothing to do with a case or Cuddy made up a surprising amount of Wilson's life soundtrack over the next week. Some of them made sense – climbing the stairs to his apartment, long hallways at work, squatting down to get something off of the floor. Others, though, made no sense at all (at least to someone that didn't live with it). More often than he expected, Wilson would find House simply sitting in his office chair or recliner, a groan passing through his lips seemingly at random. He had to repeatedly stop himself from questioning it. He's off of the Vicodin. He is NOT playing this up for a fix; his pain is real, Wilson had to remind himself. It was not a reminder he particularly enjoyed. No one should ever have to hurt as much as House seemed to.
What House had not expected from this little exercise is that he found himself doing something similar. Unlike Wilson was learning to, though, House was having trouble acknowledging his pain was real. Every time he let out a sound, he found himself questioning whether what he was feeling actually warranted it. Yes, his leg hurt, but did it hurt enough to draw Wilson's attention to it? More than once House found himself internally yelling, Just handle it for god's sake! This week is no different than any other. You've gone however many years not making this much of a fuss; You're fine - stop worrying the poor man!
He wasn't fine – far from it actually, but that didn't matter. No matter what his inner critic said, theassignment was to vocalize each and every time he was in pain. Whether Wilson believed him or not was another matter entirely.