Chapter 7: Pride
It was almost five in the afternoon. I'd finished doing my volunteer work with some of the AIDS patients and was getting ready to leave the hospital when I passed by House's office. The blinds were closed and I wasn't sure if he had already left.
He opened up the door right as I passed it. "Come in here, I need to talk to you."
He sat down at his desk and steepled his fingers and stared at me. "I got a letter from Wilson. He's taking a leave of absence and getting some sort of therapy about his anger problems. He just wrote me this very grovelling apology for...the way he's been treating me." He sighed heavily and there was a slight softening of his expression around his eyes. "I know what you did."
"Did Wilson tell you?"
He splayed his hand on his chest and gave me an "oh, come on, who are you kidding?" look. "He doesn't have to tell me anything. This is House, remember?" He cleared his throat. "Five years ago, when I first met you, I didn't think you were even capable of anything that sneaky, or of fighting, even to defend somebody you cared about." He stood up, turned away and looked out his office window for a second.
When he turned back, he was smiling warmly. "Thank you," he whispered, stepping forward and enfolding me in his arms.
"Come on, let's go back to my place."
He turned on David Bowie on his boom box, shouldered it, taking his cane in his other hand. I put my arm around his waist and we strode out of the hospital together.
"----in her satin and tat
in her frock coat and bippidy boppidy hat
well I could do better than that!