House froze momentarily watching the bartender take his motorcycle keys. It was deja-vu all over again. Then again there were days when he experienced that feeling. House knew it was a chemical imbalance in the brain. This happened before. He looked around noticing the familiar people. The Sherrie Bar. This had happened before. He didn't come here not since . . . Amber's death.
Tonight was the night Amber would die.
History could not be changed.
But there could be little tweaks here and there.
"At least give me one call." House said.
The Bartender handed House the phone with a frown on his face.
Wilson was working overtime. House put in Wilson's number. The bus wouldn't be here until after she had arrived. Why was he remembering this? This probably meant he initially believed it was inconvenient until now. House must have dreamed this a long time ago. He had dreamed one of his patients before getting the file and then dreaming up the diagnoses to that same patient. That was logical. Someone had to drive him back. House was too drunk to make his way back home on the street.
House handed the phone back to the bartender.
"Another drink on the fine lady who's coming in." House said.
The Bartender poured House another glass.
Today is the day that House is going to die. He took another drink. His team could take care of the patients with mysterious illnesses. They were idiots and morons, but maybe working with his colleagues their IQ could elevate. Bouncing ideas off one another, performing tests on patients, and injecting the patient with medicine until the right one is figured out. Just like his original pair of ducklings did and likely still did. Under Foreman's supervision they could save the day. House was sure of it. He finished off the next two drinks.
The third drink is when Amber came in.
"If you were not my boyfriends best friend I wouldn't be picking you up." Amber said.
One who is going to save your life, House thought.
"Ah take a bite of your carrot, Bugs Bunny," House said, rummaging through his pocket for his pill bottle. "She will pay for it."
Amber put the large purse on the table and then House proceeded to knock it over. He remembered the label quite clearly. She had a bad case of the flu. What she was taking could have compromised her heart,her lungs, and her liver. She would been ineligible for transplants due to the damage. House slipped Vicodin bottle into the mess and slipped out Amber's deadly bottle. She wouldn't notice, House reasoned, while putting away her belongings into the bag. That long scarf would have been used to attempt to save her leg.
"See you on the bus." House said, leaving behind his cane.
House made his way toward the exit bumping into people here and there without an apology.
"Greg, wait!" Amber shouted back, putting her belongings
House came to the doorway then looked over in the direction of Amber in the middle of the pain coming from his leg. House then went out the door. He opened the capsule,took two pills out, and swallowed them. No one would understand why he did this. Kutner, Thirteen, and Taub would try to find a reason. Cuddy wouldn't understand. Wilson would analyze what House had done after being told by Amber what had happened. He would jump to conclusions from pad to pad. He put the pills away then went into the bus and paid for the ride.
"You have a bubble in your teeth," House said. "Tell any doctor when you see them. I am Doctor House."
"Okaay." The bus driver said, with a raised eyebrow.
House made his way down the row and he came to the end. House sat down into the seat where Amber would have sat. He looked over to see a running Amber wiping her nose with a napkin holding his cane in one hand. House turned his head away. It was worth the sacrifice, House figured. He leaned his side against the window briefly closing his eyes. When they opened his cane was held before him.
"You left your cane." Amber said.
House took the cane.
"I did it for you two," House said, as Amber sat down across from him. "If you ever ask yourself why, that is the answer."
Amber raised an eyebrow.
"Are you speaking in riddles?" Amber asked.
House shook his head.
"Afraid not." House said.
Amber sneezed, again, into the napkin.
"Damn it." Amber said, then she took the vicodin capsule out, opened the lid and swallowed the pills.
"You are going to thank me for this." House said.
"You are acting unusual." Amber said.
"I know." House said.
The bus went down the street.
"Wilson and I are considering to get married." Amber said.
"And you will." House said.
"If he has to bring you, you must be in a tuxedo." Amber said.
"That is out of the question." House said.
"It is a formal event." Amber said.
"Well, if it were to happen then I must," House said. "So is little junior going to be named after senior?"
"I am not pregnant." Amber said.
"But you will be after the wedding." House asked
"We haven't talked about it." Amber said.
"Gregory Wilson, Robert Wilson, Alice Wilson, Chris Wilson, Eric Wilson,Hannah Wilson, Max Wilson, Arnold Wilson,Rebeca Wilson, Cuddy Wilson, Washington Wilson, Sherlock Wilson, Watson Wilson, Shawn Wilson, Gus Wilson-" And then the bus was struck sending it flying including House who let go of his cane. There were screams and metal and glass flying in all directions. Amber reached her hand out toward House. House reached his hand out toward Amber and their hands interlocked then the bus swerved in another direction breaking their grasp on one another. Their hands caught up onto one another for one last time.
Then their grasp broke.
The bus flew over, rolling multiple times, until it came to a landing in the middle of the road sideways. Destiny can screw itself for all Gregory House was concerned. There were bystanders covering their mouths in horror. A man calling for 911. To ensure Wilson's happiness, to satisfy destiny, House exchanged a life for a life.