When House came to the next session, he immediately noticed the keyboard just as Nolan had promised. However, he'd forgotten about their discussion last session, and seeing the sleek instrument sent him into a spiral he wasn't expecting. Granted, it wasn't the fanciest thing in the world. Paint was wearing off what once were sure to be sleek, black keys and a few test notes confirmed that it was desperately out of tune. Clearly nobody had given the poor thing any attention in a while, but House found he didn't care. He was happy it was there at all; promises made to him weren't often kept. The fact that this one was made a small, satisfied smile appear on his lips.
By the time Nolan joined him in the office, House was diligently working away at the piano, making sure each and every note sounded as crisp and clear as if it were brand new.
"Wow!" Nolan let out a low, impressed whistle. "If I had known this was all it took to get you into the office early, I would have brought in instruments a long time ago."House startled, sitting up straight and clearing his throat awkwardly. "It's nothing. Really. Easy fix. A monkey could do it given the right tools."
House wiped his hands jeans, beginning to make the move toward the chair he usually occupied during sessions. Nolan stopped him before he was even fully standing. "You're fine there." When House gave him a questioning look, he continued. "Seriously, it's alright. Finish what you started. God knows I won't be able to and no one else here will."
House nodded with a sigh, seemingly relieved as he sat back down. Good. Nolan had a hunch he wanted to test. Nolan moved across the room, casually leaning against his desk rather than sitting down. "So, where'd you learn to do all that, anyway?"
"Books, mostly. The piano in our house was old. Things failed on it all the time. Either I learned to fix it or I didn't play. And not playing was not an option, at least not for me."
Nolan hummed in acknowledgment. That was a more detailed answer than he'd gotten out of House since they'd talked about the memory of John. Perhaps his theory would be proven correct. Still, more evidence was needed to be sure, so Nolan tried another question. "How are you feeling today, House? How was last week for you?"
House had finished with his tune -ups and was now absently plucking at notes, seemingly creating a melody on the fly. "It was certainly…. interesting. Especially for Bartok. He doesn't usually venture outside the house anymore. At least, not these days. He just wouldn't shut up when we got home."
"Oh yeah, what was his favorite part?" Nolan questioned. He wanted to keep him talking, but was also genuinely curious.
"He liked playing pretend since we don't do that much. He liked meeting you too -said you were nice."
Nolan smiled softly, "Glad to have met his approval. What about you? Did you have a favorite part of last week?"
House just shrugged, closed off again. Nolan supposed that was fair. Perhaps something a little easier to answer would be good.
"You know, I'm realizing I don't know about a lot of your favorite things, besides the music. I think we should fix that, don't you? What's your favorite colour?"
"Red!" House replied without a second thought.
"What about your favorite food?"
That took House a little more thought. "I eat a lot of Reubans at work, so I guess that's one, but honestly anything Wilson cooks is probably my favorite. He's a much better cook than I am. I'm learning, though!" Nolan, of course, knew this from previous discussions of learning to work with food being an excellent distraction from his addiction, but it also told him that his plan to get House to open up, and maybe even regress, was working. House didn't mention the drugs like he normally would, almost like he was unaware that was the reason he had started to learn to cook.
The pattern continued with easy questions on all of House's favorite things; House even asked a couple questions of his own. All the while, House played melody after gorgeous melody on the restored keyboard, seemingly pulling them out of thin air.
All was going according to plan. Better, if Nolan did say so himself. So much so that Nolan let himself relax more than usual, enjoying the music and camaraderie that he didn't normally get with this particular client. Nolan should have known, or at least suspected, it may not last, though. While he didn't buy into most of House's pessimistic views on life there was one piece that, unfortunately, rang true: everything changes.
It wasn't House this time. The man wasn't even putting up an iota of resistance today. It began slowly. A grimace of discomfort here, a shift in his seat there. When House started to gently massage his thigh, though, Nolan knew that the reason they'd started this particular course of treatment was rearing it's ugly head again. The psychiatrist kicked himself for not putting two and two together earlier. House had been playing for almost half their session, making great use of the keyboard's foot pedal. Of course that would aggravate his leg.
"House, how are you doing? Why don't we maybe give the piano a rest for a few minutes?"
"'m okay. " House mumbles, shifting again.
"I can tell you're not, bud. There's nothing wrong with that, either. This is a safe place, nothing bad will happen from you admitting it."
"I'm fine. Dad always said 'long as I wasn't bleeding and nothing was broken, I was fine, so I am." House shrugs, worryingly un-phased by what he just said.
"I'm really not so sure you are, kiddo. Besides, what your dad doesn't know won't hurt him. I've gotten pretty good at keeping secrets." Nolan winks, playfully conspiratorial.
House looked to be preparing another rebuttal, moving to stand as he did. Perhaps predictably, his leg buckled and he landed rather harshly back on the piano bench. Decidedly less predictably, House let out whimper. Nolan had never known the adult man to cry over anything, but apparently the same rule did not apply to his Little self. Worse yet, it seemed now that the tiny sound had escaped, a dam had been broken. His tears, however, were eerily silent. It was as if he was still trying his best not to draw attention to his obvious pain, despite failing miserably. Shit!
Nolan sprung into action, crouching in front of House and offering a tissue. "Greg, hey it's alright. You're safe; I'm here to help, okay? We should get you more comfortable if we can, though. Think you can move?"
House gave a small nod, as if not completely trusting his answer. Nolan took it anyway and practically carried House over to the softer chair in his office, laying him down on it as much was possible. He suddenly understood why Wilson seemed to have so much upper body strength; this was probably a regular occurrence for him.
Nolan was jolted from his thoughts by the sounds of a still very upset little boy. For being the one to encourage regression therapy, Nolan wasn't overly great with kids and wasn't entirely sure what to do. So, he trusted his gut and hoped House wouldn't have wanted to come to his office today empty-handed. "Hey, Greg, can you look at me, buddy?" When teary eyes met his, Nolan continued, "Did Bartok come with you today?"
House nodded, pointing to his backpack. "Always does now."
Nolan raced over to the knapsack, quickly finding the bear and thrusting him into House's hands.
"Ugh, you could have done that a smidge gentler, you know. Bartok glared accusingly at Nolan, paws on his hips. "Still, I suppose I can at least breathe now. I thought I was never coming out from underneath those books."
House giggled wetly at that, causing Bartok to turn his attention to his boy. "Oh, Gregory! Come here." Bartok began, inviting him in for a big hug. "Whatever is the matter my boy?"
Whatever House mumbled back was lost to Nolan, the man's face buried to deeply in soft white fur to be understood. When House smiled a little moments later, though, Nolan knew he'd made the right call.
"Gregory, listen to me." Bartok had encouraged, wiping tears from House's cheek with his paw, "I know you may not feel it now, but you are the strongest person I know. It takes guts to admit you need help and I'm so very proud of you. We'll get you all fixed up soon enough, hmm?"
After giving House a few more moments to calm down, Nolan cleared his throat. "You feeling a little bit better, bud?"
House shrugged. His leg still hurt, but not bad enough that he wanted to scream anymore, so that was good.
Judging by the look on Nolan's face, House had said those words aloud and it took the therapist a moment to recover from the shock of such an open statement. When he did, he merely asked, "You up for more questions? We could go back to talking about our favorite things."
House gave Bartok a wary look and the bear placed a reassuring, and gentle, paw on his bad thigh. A silent conversation nudged House to say what he truly felt rather than what he thought Nolan wanted to hear.
"Do I have to be?" House asked quietly.
"No, no you don't, kiddo. You've done more than enough for today. Let's get you home." Nolan ruffled the boy's hair lightly before moving to call on House's much more suited caregiver, whether Wilson saw himself that way or not.