I couldn't resist writing what I'm sure is going to be one of many fics about House in the psychiatric hospital. The finale really shook me up and inspired me. Might just be a one shot, give me feedback.

He woke up, as he had for the past four weeks, to the sound of her voice and the loud ticking of the clock.

"We got you, didn't we?" He was angry, just as angry as he had been the days before, when she had the same thing. Every five days, a new statement, none of which made him feel any better about himself.

"Shut up." He muttered to the woman in the corner of the room, the woman he knew wasn't actually, the woman he knew was lying in a grave somewhere, not taunting him in his lilac room. It really was his room now, though he could never feel as much attachment for it as he could for his real room, in his apartment, the room with his clothing lying on the floor, the room with his guitar, the room with the bed, the bed that he thought he had made love to Cuddy on.

"The wound still stings, doesn't it?"

He was tired of the bland meals they made him, he wanted pizza, he wanted scotch, he wanted Wilson, making jokes with him, he wanted Cuddy.

"The wound still smarts, doesn't it? You're still sad that we made it all up."

"We just told you what you wanted to hear. We tricked you. She doesn't want you." Kutner stood beside Amber, his voice deadly serious, his eyes blank and staring.

House was getting really pissed off now. Every morning, they went over what happened, or what he thought had happened. Frankly, it wasn't funny anymore. It wasn't even entertaining.

"Why did you kill yourself?" he asked, just like yesterday.

"Why would he know? You don't know, we don't know. You asked us yesterday."

"Insanity is doing the same thing more than once and expecting a different outcome. I'm trying to fulfill the parameters of my residence here."

"I think the freak visions did that for you already, actually."

"Are we going to cover any new ground today? Or are we going to go over how I tricked myself into delusionary happiness with Cuddy?"

"You're in love with her." stated Kutner, his eyes still boring a hole into House's skull.

"What an really fucking original thought," House said sarcastically, "You've only mentioned it about a thousand times since I got here."

"Your night with her as your saviour? You were just trying to tell yourself that she's in love with you, and that's why you spend so much time with her. But she's not. How many times has Wilson visited you?"

"Seventeen." he answered dully, knowing where this was going.

"And how many times has she come?"

"None." he said, a bitter taste in his mouth again. He was in love with her. But she hadn't come to see him once since he started at the Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital.

"That's right. Not one single fucking visit."

"Maybe it's too hard for her to see me."

"And maybe you were just a valued piece of hospital property."

"No!" he shouted, trying again to make them understand. She cared about him, he was sure.

"You really think that anyone could love you? That anyone could really care about you enough to visit you here, in your complete helplessness, just to see how you're doing?"

House froze. Here was a voice that he hadn't heard in this room, but had heard nearly all his life. He turned and looked at the figure of a man who had known why he didn't look like him, and tortured him for it everyday.

"Wilson does." He said slowly. He had been expecting his father to visit him for a while.

"Oh, right, the sissy oncologist. How do you know he doesn't want to get in your pants when you get out of here, if you get out of here?"

"He's my friend."

"And what the fuck would you know about friends? You only have one. And you take advantage of him for everything, it's a wonder that he even comes down to see you. If I were him, I would be glad that you were finally in the psycho ward. You're just a piece of shit son of a bitch."

"Shut up. Just shut up. I don't care what you have to say."

"But you need to hear it. It's your own mind talking. Maybe you should listen to what we're telling you. Maybe if you listen to your hallucinations, they'll go away." The older House laughed, and the sound was excruciating to House's ears, having heard it many times many years ago.

"You're still depressed that darling Lisa hasn't come to see you yet." cooed Amber, "You've been so kind to her over the years, she should have returned the favour by now."

"I care about her." he spat, tired of trying to convince his own mind of the truth, "I'm an ass, she knows that, but I care about her."

"And if it were her, instead of you, sitting in this room, talking to her own head, would you visit?" And suddenly House saw Cuddy lying on a hospital bed, wires coming out of her head, surgeons crowded around her, preparing to saw off her skull.

"I would. You know I would."

"So you care more than her? She has a child; you couldn't raise a child if your fucking life depended on it. You hated her for getting that baby; you knew it would make her life miserable. But maybe that's what you wanted, for her to be miserable. Maybe you thought the world would be a better place if everyone was miserable." said his father.

"I never wanted her to be unhappy."

"And you think she wouldn't be unhappy if she were with you? You're a cripple and a drug addict, you don't care about anyone or anything, you're going nowhere, and now, you're here, waiting for the good doctors to figure out what's wrong with your precious head. You deserve no one. I always told you you would end up alone. Looks like I'm right."

"She's just fine with her life, she has her baby, she has her job, she has Wilson." Said Kutner, still fixing him with a death glare.

"Maybe she and Wilson should get together. Then you could have a big happy family waiting for you when you get out of here." his father spat at him.

"No." he growled, sickened at the thought. Cuddy, with Wilson? Wilson, kissing her, touching her in his favourite places?

"That's right," Amber said, tilting her head to one side, "After you thought you slept with her, you wanted a relationship. You wanted to wake up every morning with the satisfaction of sex with your boss. Is that it? Is that what you want?" Yes, it was what he wanted, not the satisfaction, but the knowledge that she loved him, that she wanted to be wrapped up in his arms.

"Doesn't look like your happy family fantasy is going to work though. No one's been able to figure out what the hell's wrong with you. You're just some sick fuck to them, not the kind, caring individual we all know and love."

"Shut up," he growled again, getting even more pissed off, "We've been through this before, I want her, I want to be with her, but as you keep telling me, the feeling isn't mutual."

"Maybe it isn't, maybe it is. We won't know unless she visits you."

"This isn't just about Cuddy," Kutner cut in, "It never was just about Cuddy. It's about me too. You're still infuriated with yourself that you couldn't come up with one more fucking answer. The answer to life's most beautiful question. Why do people die?"

"You killed yourself. That's why you died."

"You don't know why I killed myself."

"Maybe I don't care why you committed suicide."

"But you do. You drove yourself crazy trying to figure out why I ended my own life. You had all the clues, House. All the clues are there. And they're still there. Maybe that's what you need to do to get yourself out of here. Figure out why helpless Lawrence Kutner killed himself"

"You've lost your mind, there's nothing else to do. But maybe that's the problem. You're angry that you lost your mind. You're scared that you lost the one thing that you care about, your rational mind. Wilson's words, Gregory. If only he were here to talk with us. But he has a job, a place to be, an actual life. You're just stuck here, staring at the walls think that there are dead people taunting you. The nurses come in, they give you drugs, they give you food, and they don't give you anything else. You've been here four weeks; don't you think its time to break out yet? I'm sure you could find some way to do it. Hide some of the pills they give you, make your own homemade mind control drugs, give them to the staff, walk out of here, pretend to be cured. We'll keep you company. Dead people are fun to have around in your apartment. But we forgot. You want the princess. You want Cuddy. But you don't deserve her if you don't get through this. And if you trick your way out of these walls, you don't deserve anyone."