A/N: Hi everyone,

So…I promise you I've updated this since I last posted. Just not here, apparently. A PM on here today reminded me that you guys are still four chapters behind. My bad. We're going to blame ADHD memory and lack of object permanence. Anyway, since my last chapter, I have completely moved over to Ao3 under the same name. So, if you want (admittedly only slightly) more prompt updates to this story, as well as to see some other stuff I've done for BBC Sherlock and Marvel, feel free to come find me on Ao3. In the meantime, enjoy a four-chapter dump of story.

House, as promised, brought Bartok Bear with him for his session the following week; he didn't leave House's backpack, though. Not at first, anyway. Neither Nolan nor House were much for pleasantries, but somewhere in the middle of what passed as pleasantries for them, Bartok became opinionated.

"You bring me along and I don't even get to see the office or meet your therapist? Gregory, how rude! I thought your mother taught you to be a better host than that. Besides, the whole point of me coming along was to help you. I can't do that if I can't see anything. Now, please get me out of this knapsack."

Nolan immediately noticed House's attention drifting, but didn't comment. Said drifting wasn't often meant to be an indication of boredom or annoyance, but rather a consequence of the speed at which the man's brain worked and the connections it could make seemingly at random. Nolan's interest was, however, piqued when House moved towards his backpack. Realization dawned when well-loved cream fur that had likely once been white, peered out from the slightly open zipper. As House pulled the bear the rest of the way out, Nolan found himself thinking that the toy was quite the the dapper little fellow. The red ribbon around its neck was tied perfectly to mimic an actual bow tie.

"I see you've brought a friend." Nolan said, careful to keep his tone neutral.

"You told me to."

"I honestly didn't think you'd listen, but I'm glad you did. He may be useful later in the session, but first I wanted to check in about how you're feeling. Just a traffic light colour."

The traffic light system was something Nolan had implemented early on in House's treatment; they both found it easier for rating emotions than numbers - green was feeling good; yellow was approach with caution and allow for some processing time, and red was their hard stop.

"Yellow, I guess." House's shoulders moved in a noncommittal shrug. "I don't know how well this is going to go."

"Perfectly understandable. We'll take things at your pace; if it gets to be too much, just say the word and we'll stop. No pressure at all, okay?" At House's nod, Nolan continued. "Let's get started."

House furrowed his eyebrows. "And how exactly are we supposed to do that? Last time was a fluke because you scared the crap out of me. I can't just…become a kid at will."

"First of all," Nolan corrected. "You're not becoming a kid; you're allowing your mind to regress to a younger state as a coping mechanism. You're giving your brain some breathing time. That's all."

"Code it whatever psycho-babble you want. The end goal here is for me to act like a kid voluntarily." House retorted.

Nolan placed his hands in a now familiar pacifying gesture. "Okay, fine. Yes. Ideally, if all goes well today, you will have entered a younger headspace by the end of the session. Why is that such a bad thing? Think of it this way, you already did it once. No harm in trying to make the happy accident an intentional practice."

"That was the farthest possible thing from a happy accident. I still haven't talked to Wilson about it. God only knows what he thinks of me now."

"Is that what this is about? You're afraid people will judge you. Listen House, if you truly don't want to do this, I won't force it on you. That said, I do think it could be really helpful if you gave it a chance. And I hope you know you'll face no judgment from me if you do; everything we try stays between us. Besides, you haven't stopped petting that bear since you picked him up."

Sure enough, House looked down to find himself stroking Barktok's ear rhythmically between two fingers. "Bartok. His name is Bartok. He….helps."

Nolan's tone softened to match House's sudden, shy whisper. "How about we see if we can Bartok help even more, huh?"

Finally, someone's listening to what I've been saying all along! Thank you, Doctor! I've been trying to get Gregory to see reason since we got here. I promise you, I'll be of the utmost assistance.

Bartok solutes dutifully in House's mind's eye while Nolan watched on, bemused. "Does your friend have an opinion?"

House shook himself out of the trance he seemed to be in. "He's a plush bear. They don't have thoughts. You sure you're not the one that belongs on my end of the room?"

Nolan saw through the deflection immediately. "Doesn't mean there's anything wrong with imagining what he might say. So…is Bartok in?"

House sighed, knowing he'd been caught. "Excited for your plan would be an understatement."

At first, House just kept stroking the bear's ears, not really sure what else to do. A few minutes passed and, where Bartok had previously been unceremoniously strewn on House's chair beside him, he was now carefully cradled in House's lap. It was the way a parent might balance a child. He began speaking in a soft voice; Nolan watched on, not entirely sure House knew he was doing it.

"That's better, huh? All comfy. I'm sorry I just kind of dropped you before." House straightened Bartok's bow tie for him.

"Honestly, Gregory. Such an indignity; a bear of my stature thrown in a haphazard heap." Bartok continued to smooth his tie; House supposed he didn't do it justice. "Apology accepted, though. So, what would you like to do this afternoon?"

House only shrugged in reply, mumbling an undecided hum under his breath.

"Oh, come on now, there's plenty to do." Bartok gestured to a table across the room. Sure enough, Nolan had laid out more than enough things to entertain any age, but none of the items interested him.

After a few more moments of Bartok's silent urging, House finally mumbled "I guess we could play pretend."

"Excellent idea, my boy! Where shall we explore today, hmm?"

House thought long and hard about his answer. They could go back to Japan; it had been one of his favorite places to live, but re- imagining something real was not the point of a game of pretend. So, House kept thinking and soon found himself floating away into a different fantasy entirely. He stood alone in a music classroom. All of the other students had run off for lunch, but he preferred it in here. After one last check to ensure no teachers were around, he pulled Bartok out of his backpack and sat behind the piano. He wasn't technically supposed to be playing it, especially not without supervision, but he couldn't help himself.

The daydream continued on as it usually did; though no one would ever know it, House replayed this one often enough that he knew the pattern by now. That didn't make it any less enjoyable though. He would tenderly play whatever tune his heart desired, enjoying the smooth feel of the keys beneath his fingers. He would eventually be caught, usually by the music teacher themselves. Only, instead of getting in trouble, he would be praised for his talent. It would often be suggested that he apply to some prestigious music school, like Juilliard or Berkley. House would shrink in on himself, blushing and saying he'd think about it. Only when the teacher was gone would Barktok congratulate him, leaping into House's arms for a much deserved hug. "See, I don't care what your father says! You're talented - people would give anything to play the way you do. I know I certainly would."

House would smile at the bear's praise, for once believing it. As the class bell rang, signally the end of lunch hour, House was always left to wonder what would happen if he ever did go to a fancy school and become a world famous pianist. Wonder what it would be like to make a life out of something his father would never approve of.

This time, along with the school bell, there was a voice pulling him back to reality. "House…..House? You with me?" Nolan probed gently.

House blinked, slowly re-orienting to the office around him. "Yeah….yeah, I'm here."

Nolan saw the hesitation, giving House time to fully return to him. Eventually he said, "You were off in your own little world for quite a while there. I have to confess, I'm curious. Where did you go?"

"Oh, it was….nothing. Just something I imagine every now and then. It's stupid." When Nolan did nothing, but raise a curious eyebrow, House forced himself to continue and recount the scenario he'd just played out in his head.

"That doesn't sound stupid. It sounds to me like your subconscious is trying to get you to recognize talent you clearly have and to accept praise from others."

House blushed, but said nothing. Nolan decided to drop the topic, trying a different tactic. "Why don't you play much anymore? Last I heard of you playing was with Lydia, when you were still inpatient at Mayfield."

"That probably is the last time I played; the last time I remember enjoying anyway. I do still play, but it's a tool now - a distraction. Playing, at least when I'm also drunk enough, makes me forget about the pain for a while. It's not fun anymore. John ruined the fun a long time ago." House finished, a bitter bite to his words.

"Well, clearly some part of you doesn't think he did. In fact, I think we may have just found a safe way into your Littlespace - music! I can't believe I didn't think of it earlier Our time is up for today, but I'll check in with the music therapy department, see if I can get at least a keyboard for our next session." Nolan beamed while House cringed internally. Here goes nothing, he supposed.