I must say that I think this is the last chapter. If you disagree, feel its not finished or what have you, send a PM or review my way. If you're convincing enough I will update again...maybe. Thanks for all your reviews so far, enjoy the end.
The Rogue Pinkie
Ch. 11
"You can't go back to work yet."
"Don't you tell me what I can and can't do!" House was huffy.
"We have only been home two days. Your head was cut open three days ago, and crap was pulled out of it."
"My head is resilient. Its better and I need to make my brain work!"
"Your brain works just fine. Come sit down."
"No." He walked into the kitchen and faced out the window. Wilson approached slowly and talked again in a lighter tone.
"You know you need to let your head heal before you start downing more Vicodin and racking your brain to solve the puzzle." He paused and waited. "Take some time, I'm here." He wanted to go on about how House might feel and blah blah blah but he didn't. He sat back down on the couch. House came over and sat next to him.
"Feel better now?"
"Yes. Much." He smiled. "Where's General Hospital? It's time you know."
Wilson grunted. "I know."
The fact that Wilson could talk House down from a meltdown was proof that House wasn't ready to work yet. They had both been through a lot in a small amount of time; they needed time off to process and would be back with time. House was always one to rush things, Wilson had learned long ago that things needed time.
They had been through hell and back at least twice now. From colds to infarctions and tumors. From divorce to divorce, from break up to being alone. They suffered together. They survived together. And now, through medicine and friendship they would live together again.
