Prologue picks up where Wilson's Heart ends. Wilson and House are both trying to put their friendship back together but neither quite knows how. House/Wilson friendship. Huddy.


I don't want to be in pain.

I don't want to be miserable.

I don't want him to hate me.

Those were my thoughts, my dream. I didn't want to wake up; I could have stayed on that bus forever. But I did wake up. Cuddy held my hand for hours in that hospital bed but I couldn't feel her there. All I could feel was Wilson's cold stare from across the room and his back as he walked away. And my leg. Always my leg. There was nothing left for me but to go right back to work.

Within a couple of days I was back in my office, desperately looking for a strange case to occupy my time and mind. Cuddy insisted that I stay in bed; that I let myself heal. What a joke.

Wilson had not been back to the hospital since she died. He was doing the responsible thing and taking some time off. To heal. What he was really doing was learning how insignificant he was in her life now that she was dead. He called her parents who he had met only once and he offered his help with her things, her house, which didn't belong to him. They thanked him through tiered weeping and told him they'd call if they needed anything. He was homeless and alone. And he wouldn't be coming to me this time because though he was happy that I was alive, he could barely stand to look at me without remembering what I did.

Cuddy told me that it was only a matter of time. He would realize that it was not my fault, it was a random accident. She said to give him some space and eventually he would stop being angry. The sad thing is, I know her death wasn't my fault. I am a rational person by nature and Amber's death, while tragic, was not my doing. I don't hate myself now any more than I did a week ago. That's not saying much.


Sorry I'm not home went to get House. 3 A.

Exactly. She's not home because she went to get House. She's not here in this bed, our bed, because she went to scrape House off the floor of some hole and now she's dead. I wanted her to be angry with him. I wanted her to tell me to stay away from him. That would make it much easier for me to hate him.

Amber was so wrong for me; she wasn't my type at all. Except that she was. She made me a better person. She made me break the cycle of my past relationships and live my life in a way that made it exciting. I was happy. And even more so because House seemed to see in her the same things that I did. He was happy for us in his way.

It could have been so good.


Wake her up.

Tell her what she meant to you.

Wilson worried there was something between House and Amber. He needed to know the truth. That woman loved him. House loves him. They didn't tell me what they were planning to do to House to regain his memory. They knew I would never allow it. I only found out after. After House was in a coma and Wilson had his answer. Not the answer he was looking for, but an answer nonetheless. House was not having an affair with Amber. Amber went to get House because she loved Wilson and wanted to help his friend. Though that isn't what Wilson will focus on. He will stare at the fact that Amber never would have been on that bus if not for House.

I can't help him with that now. He needs to grieve. And I need to take care of House. I held his hand until he woke up and I have barely left his side since.

Because I know. It is only a matter of time before House remembers why he was in that bar in the first place.