A/N: I'm soooooo sorry for the long wait!! The Easter egg hunt just took me a long time this year… ;)

But now I finally managed to finish the last chapter of "Scars", and thanks to ColorOfAngels I can also post it now. She was so kind to help me with the stupid upload function that just wouldn't work for some reason... So, many thanks to her again!!! I decided to keep this chapter in snapshot-style again (similar to the final chapter of "The best of motives"), to just show glimpses of what's going on over the course of several weeks. I hope you like it. :)

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"What happened to: ‚We'll get through this together...'" House groaned from inside his bathroom.

Wilson raised both eyebrows skeptically at that. "You want me to be in there with you? Hold your hair out of your face?!" Then he cocked his head slightly to one side as if seriously considering it. "Wouldn't be much of a task, I guess…"

He automatically cringed, when the sound of painful retching once more reached his ears.

When House seemed to have calmed down a bit again, he half stated, half inquired: "I guess that means the Mexitil is out again?"

A moment of silence; then, hoarsely: "Well, unless you want me to join the club of 'halve your BMI in half a year' bulimarectics, I'm afraid so…"

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"I talked to Dr Martins today." Wilson continued to stow away the groceries he had just bought.

He saw House looking up at him out of the corner of his eye, but concentrated on keeping his tone even; professional.

"I think we should start you on some PT. Martins would be available for 3 or 4 sessions a week…"

This got him a response. "My leg hurts."

Wilson just nodded calmly. "I know it does. That's why you need the PT."

"My head hurts."

This time Wilson rolled his eyes, turning around and regarding his friend with a patient look. "It's been two weeks, House… Your head's fine."

"It hurts."

"Okay; I'll arrange for an MRI then..."

This time House rolled his eyes. "Fine. – But only twice a week."

Wilson had a hard time suppressing a smile. "Three times. And I'll drive you."

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"Are you feeling nauseous?" Wilson eyed his friend's half-finished dinner frowning slightly.

House didn't take his eyes off the TV screen. "Nope! I'm fine…"

"Then eat some more." Wilson handed him his plate again, causing House to throw him an irritated glance.

"When have you officially become my mother?"

"Since you scared the crap out of me by having to watch you in yet another coma…!"

House snorted at that, voice dripping of sarcasm. "Yeah, well... sorry. – Next time I'll tell my cortex to just hang in there…"

Wilson smiled slightly, but nodded towards the plate. "Eat."

That earned him another mildly annoyed look. "What… Because I'm not feelin' sick, you want me to eat until I am?!"

The younger man calmly shook his head. "No. – I want you to eat until my calculations tell me that your body at least has the chance to put on some weight again. – Until your caloric intake at least equals the amount of energy your body is busy burning to simply keep you alive."

Another snort; before House reluctantly took another spoon of his pasta...

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"House?"

He waited a minute at the door to the other man's bedroom, but got no response.

"Can I come in…?"

Another moment of silence; then: "No." No surprise here…

"House… I talked to the physical therapist. He told me you left in a lot of pain."

This time, the reply came almost immediately: "So…?"

Wilson sighed, briefly touching the back of his neck, as he did so often when he was troubled by something. Then he took a deep breath, shaking his head once. "Sorry. I'm coming in …"

The curtains inside the bedroom were drawn, the lights off. Wilson slowly approached his friend's bed, holding out a cold pack towards him. "Ice…?"

When House made no move to take it, he prepared to place it onto the thigh himself, stopping the action abruptly when the older man addressed him sharply: "Don't touch it!"

Instinctively taking a step backwards, Wilson held up a hand in a placating gesture. " Okay. I won't..." Then, clinically: "When did you take the last pill?"

"5 minutes ago. Just takes a while for it to kick in. – I'll be fine…" Voice tense.

Wilson slowly nodded, regarding his friend carefully. "If you need something stronger, let me know. – That's what the emergency kit is there for, you know… You might need it from time to time, until we've figured out a good combination of meds."

House responded with a short nod, sounding impatient. "Yeah. I know. But I'm okay; just give me a minute…"

Wilson concentrated on keeping his tone even. "Of course. But you should take the ice; prevent the muscle from still being so sore tomorrow…"

Ten minutes later, House reached out for the cold pack, his features finally relaxing slightly.

"What did they make you do?" Wilson asked out of sudden curiosity.

"Walk."

A fleeting expression of surprise crossed the younger man's face, before he simply looked pleased. "That's… good!"

"Yeah, well… Tell that to my thigh muscle."

House had to be feeling better; the dry humor was already back.

Wilson regarded him with an affectionate smile, hoping his friend wouldn't be able to see it in the semidarkness. "It'll agree in a couple of weeks."

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House stormed into Cuddy's office with an air of determination, that wasn't diluted by the fact that he was still on crutches.

"Why did you cut back my clinic hours?!" It sounded more like an accusation than a question.

"Uh…" She seemed surprised by his apparent anger. "With the new interns – we're sufficiently staffed right now; for a change. So… No need for you to be there! – For now at least; so enjoy it while you can…"

House frowned at that, fixing Cuddy with an annoyed glare. "What you're really saying is: You think I cannot make it. – And you think by showing… compassion for me – "

Cuddy simply interrupted him, her expression unreadable. "Maybe I just don't want you to scare away the patients, by looking sicker then they do."

He completely ignored her comment. "Is that your way of saying you're sorry? – Compensating for some insane guilt complex again?!"

She just rolled her eyes. "Whatever plays into your narcissistic fantasies best, House."

His gaze rested on her a moment longer, before he simply turned around to leave. "For next week's schedule: Plan me in as usual."

Sitting down behind her desk again, Cuddy stared after him. Then she just shook her head, a small smile softening her features...

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"So… How was the first day back on the cane?" Wilson curiously regarded his friend, who entered his apartment visibly pained but walking almost normally. Well, normally for him anyway…

"You asking my leg or my shoulder…?"

Wilson frowned slightly at that. "Uh… The leg?"

"Fine."

His frown deepened. "The shoulder?"

"Horrible."

Wilson responded with a soft smile. "I left dinner for you in the oven, if you want some…"

House was already on his way into the kitchen. "Thanks, Mom…"

When he joined Wilson in the living room a minute later, he set down his plate on the coffee table, before sinking down on the couch and carefully starting to massage his right shoulder and upper back. "Maybe I should just forget about the cane and stick with the damned crutches…" It was more of a groan than a sentence.

Wilson nodded. "Or maybe you should just START USING THE CANE ON THE PROPER SIDE!"

House's gaze went towards the ceiling in frustration. They'd had this particular conversation about a thousand times in the year following the infarction. He wordlessly started to dig into his food instead of continuing it.

When he had finished eating, Wilson eyed him again, his expression completely neutral. "Want me to give you a proper massage…?"

"What… You wanna get into my pants?! – You just had to say so, Wilson! No need to keep beating around the bush like that…"

The younger man rolled his eyes at his friend's antics. "Was there a 'yes' or 'no' hidden somewhere in there?"

When House didn't reply anything immediately, he nodded towards the bedroom. "Come on. You'll be feeling better afterwards."

After another brief moment of hesitation, House slowly got to his feet, but not without wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, of course. "I'm sure I will…!"

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" Dr Wilson!"

He had an eerie sense of déjà vu, when he waited for Foreman to catch up with him. The neurologist held a sheet of paper out towards him.

"I did some research. Thought you could use some input on the latest developments in the management of chronic neuropathic pain…"

Wilson raised an eyebrow in slight surprise, but accepted the list. "Uhh... Thanks."

Foreman just nodded. "You're still trying out different combinations of meds, aren't you…"

Wilson nodded. "Yeah. – Though the Vicodin and the Pregabalin seem to stand. But we're still looking for something to replace the SSRI effectively… Right now we're thinking a tricyclic antidepressant maybe; one without significant serotonergic action of course. Guess we'll have to see about the side-effects…" He finished with a shrug, then regarded Foreman's list for a moment. "But I'll definitely show this to House and Shaminsky. Maybe we can try some of it… - Thanks again."

Foreman obviously felt the need to explain himself some more. "I would have talked to House directly, but something told me he wouldn't have appreciated it…" A wry smile.

Wilson nodded, momentarily unable to suppress a mental image featuring Foreman, House, and a certain cane. "Well, maybe he would have appreciated it, but he probably wouldn't have given you any indication… - He definitely will appreciate getting this without the social interaction."

Foreman smirked at that. "Yeah, well. That's just the man we all love..." Then, suddenly more serious again: "But you're doin' okay? – Can't be easy right now to be around him all the time…"

Wilson looked surprised by the question for a moment, apparently uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. He didn't say anything for a long moment, and Foreman was just about to apologize for his comment, when Wilson finally met his gaze calmly. "It would be harder not to be around. – I'm fine…"

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"You comin'?" Wilson waited for his friend to join him at the front door.

House returned his questioning gaze. "It's sunny today. – Think I'll try taking the bike in…"

Wilson thought the look House gave him was odd. Was he asking him for permission? Approval?! Or was he just unsure whether or not he was ready for this, and wanted to hear his opinion…

He finally nodded slowly, carefully choosing his next words, trying to cover all the possibilities. "Sure." Tone light. "If the… weather shouldn't hold, you can always get a ride back with me…"

House responded with a short nod, appearing relieved. "Okay then. – See you at the clinic."

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"You won't believe what Chase did today!"

Wilson didn't even look up from the book he was reading. "What… Did he try to touch your markers again?"

House flopped down on the couch next to him. "If by 'markers' you mean my personal, private issues… Then yes! How did you know?!"

Wilson scrunched up his face in mild confusion, eyeing his friend curiously now. "So… What did he do?!"

"He told me…" He inserted a dramatic pause, causing Wilson to raise both eyebrows in anticipation. "…that he was glad I was feeling - better…!"

Wilson grimaced at that. "How did you react? – Please tell me you didn't hit him with your cane…? Or with... anything else?"

"Why Jimmy! I wouldn't do that…!" He imitated a hurt expression. "Kids are our future after all! "

The younger man's expression remained apprehensive. "What did you do."

"Nothing." House gave a slight shrug, looking very pleased with himself. "Only told him he could wallow in his happiness all he wanted. – In the clinic; while covering for me for the next two or three hours…"

Wilson rolled his eyes at that. "I'm not... surprised."

"Where does he even get the idea that I'm feeling better…"

"Hmm… Let me think." Wilson frowned as if deep in thought. "It just might have something to do with you standing semi-upright again most of the time, talking more than two words per day, and not puking your guts out every five minutes." This earned him an exasperated glare.

Before House could counter anything, he quickly continued. "Cuddy seems to have come to a similar conclusion, by the way. She gave me these today…" He held out an envelope towards his friend.

House opened it, a curious expression on his face. Which quickly turned incredulous. Surprised. Hurt? "First-class tickets to Hawaii?! – Wow…! She must really think you need the vacation..."

Wilson shrugged, clearly intent on not making too big a deal of it. "She just rebooked them. They were already paid for by the hospital, for a couple of guys from orthopedics." He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Conference cancelled; both too busy to go just for vacation; you know how it goes…"

House replied with a clipped nod. "You should go then. Just; you know… relax a bit after all this…"

Wilson nodded pensively. That had been more or less exactly Cuddy's words, when she had given him the tickets earlier. That he should just go and recover a bit from the 'double burden' of the last few months. The stress of dealing with both his work and House. "I guess…" He could hear the hesitation in his own voice.

Because he didn't feel particularly tired really. All of them – Cuddy, Foreman, and even House himself – seemed to implicitly assume that this had been nothing but a wearisome duty for him. A tiring time, taxing his strength. When it had in fact been House, who had gone through weeks of exhausting physical therapy, frustrating drug trials, and too much pain once again.

He wasn't tired. Most of all he was relieved. Happy that House was finally better. Just happy to have his friend back. He didn't feel so much in need of a vacation, or even space...

As a matter of fact, he rather enjoyed the time he was able to spent with House right now, relishing the fact that he was very obviously feeling relatively good. Sure, he was still as snarky and sarcastic as ever, but his pain was finally under as much control as it would ever be, which reflected in everything he did and said. So, all the more reason to enjoy the company of his friend while he could!

Suddenly, a mischievous sparkle entered his expressive brown eyes. He couldn't help himself; even if Cuddy wouldn't like it; even if everybody else would think he was crazy.

He nodded towards the envelope House was still holding, grinning openly by now. "Wanna come with?"

The end

A/N: So… That was that. :) I had a great time writing this story, and I'd like to thank all of you again, who have taken the time to read and review it. SPECIAL THANKS go to my regular reviewers (I can't believe how nice you've all been to me…), particularly 1985laurie, HouseAddict16, SamBell/chaoskir, Boys Don't Cry, SupportSeverusSnape, Dr. Fantabulous, KylaRyan, Hatori Soma, embeer2004, Wuchel1, justme9at, BlkDiamond, med-anomaly, Irat, HouseAddict, Knightgirl4Jack, Radon65, Surfredia, Melissa Jooty, and 10milesfromnowhere.

Have a nice spring. :)