Disclaimer: I don't own House M.D., or any of the House characters used in this fic. They all belong to David Shore: the genius behind the fantastic medical drama that has grabbed my attention. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

Treasure

Prompt: Deep shadows...

A/N: Prompt 5 written for 5_prompts on LiveJournal. Based on Season 4 Episode 16, "Wilson's Heart."

The world had shattered before his eyes within minutes of the news, wrapping him in the cold embrace of the night's shadows. He'd always known that death was imminent, but he had never expected it to be like this. It was just crippling, for lack of a better word. For some reason, he'd come up with some strange notion of a peaceful demise when they'd started their relationship. Some nights, he would lie awake and imagine a perfect, painless end in which they would be safe and warm within each other's arms.

House would have been swift to call it "childish grandeur at its finest."

Now, that ideal scenario would never come to pass, as she was lying, broken and fading, in his arms. He kicked himself, hating how he'd asked to call her time of death, not once thinking about Amber's own desires. Frankly, he had wanted it to end, and yet, he had wanted to wind back the clock to the previous day so he could attempt to talk House out of going out to drink. Of course, it wasn't House's fault. It was nobody's fault.

But she was still gone, and he could almost see her body vanishing in his arms, disappearing into nothingness. This made him hold her closer, feeling the absence of her breath on the side of his face as he kissed her forehead. This couldn't be the end. There was still so much more for them in the world, so many more things to do and places to see. The bypass had ended several minutes earlier, but he just couldn't tear himself away.

He had asked her, once she had awakened, why she wasn't angry. She had every reason to be angry at the world, at House... even at him for not being able to save her. She had simply smiled and said that she didn't want to leave the world the way she had lived in it. Anger was not the last sentiment she wanted to feel.

He moved, sliding off the bed and onto the floor, turning back to kiss her once more. Amber was gone, but he would treasure her always.

Wilson always seems to get the short end of the stick...