"You've been distant all day," House says. "What's going on in that head of yours?"
Wilson sighs and leans back against the couch. "It's nothing."
"It's something," House argues. "Spill it." When Wilson doesn't reply, House says, "Please." He knows they're running out of time. He knows he doesn't have many moments like this with Wilson left.
"The only good thing," Wilson replies. He takes a breath. "The only good thing about me dying..."
"There isn't one—"
"I'll get to see Amber."
House shuts his mouth. He drums his fingers against his thigh as they lapse into comfortable silence. Finally, he gets up, limping over from his bed to where Wilson is on the couch, and leans over to kiss his forehead.
"You'll get to see Amber. She's been waiting for you, Wilson. I know she'll be happy to see you."
House pulls back to see Wilson crying silently. "Do you think so?" he croaks.
House pulls Wilson into his arms. "She's on the bus, waiting for you. She's been waiting for years. You'll see her soon."
Wilson holds onto House and cries on his shoulder. When the tears eventually subside, he kisses him. "I'll be waiting, too."
"I know."