Wilson stood embracing Amber's lifeless body, tears of melancholy streaming down his face. He was completely oblivious to House, who had been standing at the door of the room he was in, his face the colour of clay.
"It's my fault she's dead," his voice sounded forlorn.
"House, it's not your fault, you mustn't think like that,"
Cuddy placed a hand on his shoulder, her voice was warm and reassuring but you could tell she, too, was traumatised by the incident.
"If I hadn't been at that bar, I wouldn't have been drunk, if I hadn't been drunk I wouldn't have called her up, if I hadn't called her up she wouldn't have got on the bus with me and her kidneys wouldn't have been damaged, therefore, her body could have handled the medication she took for her cold."
His eyes stayed fixed on Amber, lying on her deathbed.
"If I hadn't been such an idiot, she wouldn't have accidentally poisoned herself with cough medicine."
"Please listen to me,"
Cuddy's voice was now slightly sharper and more hostile.
"It was a bus crash. An awful bus crash – people broke bones, lost feet, it wasn't anybody's fault. Amber was just unlucky."
She briefly glanced at Wilson and Amber but turned her head away abruptly, it was an awful sight. Then she spoke again.
"If you really do feel so guilty, go and tell Wilson. Tell him you're sorry."
Deep down she knew this was a tremendous thing to ask of House. Even if he ever did feel regret about something, he would never admit it, because that way no one ever has to pity him, or feel sorry for him.
Eventually Amber's body was wheeled off and Wilson retreated to his office to sob silently, mourning the loss of his girlfriend.
The whole hospital had an air of melancholy about it. As Foreman, Kutner, Taub and Thirteen sat in House's office, it seemed as if the endless torrents of rain lashing down on the building would never stop. The silence was deafening, until Kutner finally broke it.
"I don't get why we all feel so depressed about her dying, none of us even liked her."
"Maybe you're realising now that you kind of did."
And unfamiliar voice echoed through the dark room. Immediately the heads of all the grief-stricken doctors in the room turned to see Cameron and Chase standing in the doorway.
"That's so typical of you Cameron, you like everyone. Trust me, you wouldn't be saying that if you knew her," said Foreman, raising his eyebrows.
"Why not?"
"Because she was an evil, manipulative jerk - that's why. She got half of the people in the running for one of these jobs to quit!"
Chase intervened before it could turn into an argument.
"Who cares about that now? She's dead and it's tearing us all apart, especially Wilson."
Taub, who had been quiet for this whole conversation, finally spoke.
"Where's House? I haven't seen him since Amber... er... passed away..."
House slowly, silently and inconspicuously limped towards the door of the morgue. He swung open the doors and looked around the eerie room. It was pitch black, apart from one solitary white light that illuminated a body shrouded in blue cloth. Amber. It was Amber's body. Making his way towards her, a single tear rolled down his face. He pulled off the cloth, stared at her cold, grey body and clasped one of her icy hands in his.
"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
He couldn't hold back his emotions any more and tears streamed down his face.
"I love you..."
