Authors Notes: So I watched the last Episode of Season four of House, Note that I am not a Amber aka Cut throat Bitch fan, but I love Wilson, so after seeing him lose her, I just got inside his head, basically this one shot is what I think was going through his head, in that small time between getting home and finding Amber's note.... I hope you like...

It had been ten Hours since I turned the Machine off, eight hours after I got off the bed, and walked away from her side. Four hours of crying in my office, and now I am in our apartment.
I stand at the door, a part of me closing my eyes; pretend I've lost my key. I'll knock, and she would run to the door opening it for me. She'd open the door, mad I woke her up, but happy to see me. Wrap her arms around me, hold me close, and kiss me, the way she would always kiss me, deep and meaningful.

I open my eyes to see that I've got my hands on the keys, she's not going to open the door for me, she's never going to hold me again, tell me all the things she's done with her day. Why couldn't she just been the bitch? Told House to get bent, and not go to collect him. She did it for me, and she's dead.

I hold my hand to my chest pushing the front door open, it's like my heart is going a mile a minute, but I know that it's what happens in grief.

I look to the room, my dry cleaning, her pen and paper on the coffee table, I glanced to the kitchen and remember the morning, I woke up, and she was making coffee. She smelt so good, I kiss her neck, and she sneezes, a simple sneeze. She told me, it's nothing, not to worry about it. Not in the way most people, but I just let go of her, and we both rush off to work.

I walk through the apartment, I look to the sofa, remember her me, and the tape. I want to smile, but it hurts to think of her, her skin, the way she wore her hair. How she'd make me feel alive, in ways I never thought I could feel alive.

I don't know what to do, think or feel. I kept thinking of this morning, on the bus, and House saying her name after his heart giving out. I want to hit him, I want to carry on pushing my first into his face, hit him until I can't feel the anger, I want her with me, she'd calm me down, but I don't have her.

Standing outside the room, I can smell her even more; I can close my eyes, and remember the passion. Kissing like teenagers, feeling her delicate fingers undress me, undressing her. I want to hold onto the memory, but it's like sticking a blade into my chest, it feels good and bad at the same time. I want to hold onto her, but I wanted to lay on that bed forever, kiss her forever.

In dreams, I'd see our wedding, I'd see her growing pregnant with my child, hold her hand while she was in labour.

My eyes focus back on the door, and I open it slowly. My hands tremble only a little, but enough for me to fear the room. We didn't just make love, I'd watch her sleep, feel her hair tickle my nose, feel her breathing on my chest, her head rested so complete on me, I could never sleep, just to see her in her own dream world.

I walk slowly to the bed, I think of all the trouble to get a new mattress, and yet she wanted me to choose it, it wasn't a test, it was her tell me, to do what I wanted. She wanted me to look after me for once.

I fall on my side of the bed, my eyes focus on the sheets, made from two days ago, and I now roll my hand over where she'd be sleeping, I'd never wake her up.

Pulling my hand away, I see the piece of paper; I glanced at it, but then pull it to my vision. I know her hand writing right away. I see the message, the final note to me, telling me she's picking up House.

My heart sinks as I pull the note close to my still beating breaking heart. I want her here; I would have given anything for this to be not real. It was real, it happened, and a part of me wants to be with her.

I close my eyes, I don't sleep, I can't sleep without seeing her face, tasting out last kiss on my lips, and forever being reminded of the woman, who wanted me to live for me.

My love, my rock, My Amber.