Author's Note: I love Amber, so I bring her back from the dead as often as possible.
Author's Note Two: Who can believe such a fast update? I think you should reward me by spamming my inbox with reviews. :)

Amber Volakis stood in front of him, almost exactly as he remembered her. It hardly seemed possible – she had died years ago - and yet the look she was giving him, the deep, relieved sigh she breathed seemed to say that he was as familiar to her as she was to him.

"Thank God," she gasped, as though it was perfectly normal for her to be standing in his office, engaging him in conversation. As if she hadn't just returned from the grave. "I've been having the weirdest, most frustrating day. So, I've been spending the last week haunting this girl Jessica that tortured me all through high school. I mean, nothing terrible. You know, just hiding her keys and stuff like that. And then this morning I blink, and all of a sudden I'm walking around, all corporeal. I'm living in this apartment uptown, and there's money in the bank. I can buy stuff now." She paused, raising her eyebrows when he didn't respond. "You did say that you knew me, right? James?"

He swallowed hard, ignoring the way his heart pounded against his ribcage. He wasn't even exactly sure what she was saying. Was she telling him that she was his Amber? From his world, his reality? The one who had . . . "I'm a little confused," he finally said. "You know that we dated?"

She lowered herself into the chair in front of his desk, gesturing for him to take the other seat. When he did she replied, "We didn't in this reality, I don't think. There doesn't seem to be any evidence of it at my place."

He shook his head. "And I'm married anyway. Go on."

"So what I think happened is this world changed. I mean, what are the odds that we would both be sent to another plane of reality? It's the only way to explain why I'd be brought back from the dead. Obviously we have to figure out how to put it all back." Suddenly she grinned. "It's a strange conversation. But I've accepted it. Honestly, I'm just relieved to have someone to talk to. It's a little strange to be alive again."

He reflected over her words in silence, considering them from all angles. So far it appeared to make about as much sense as anything else. However he still saw one large flaw in this plan that he had to voice. "Um, but if we set it back to the way it was . . . I mean, aren't you . . ?"

"Dead?" she finished for him cheerfully. "Yes. But really, I don't mind. I don't have anything to be afraid of. I was in the middle of my afterlife."

Oookay. So his posthumous girlfriend was sitting in front of him, informing him that they had to figure out a way to send her off to her death. He was pretty sure this whole thing was going to cost him years of therapy.

Another knock startled them both and before Wilson had a chance to tell whoever it was to come back later the door flew open. And he couldn't believe it but was this world's version of House entered the room.

"Wilson," the older man cried. "Just the man I was looking for."

"You can't be surprised," he retorted out of habit. "Who did you expect to find in my office?" Somehow, in spite of everything, he felt the corners of his lips turn up. Teasing his friend felt good.

"Truthfully, I'm looking for Cuddy," House replied, giving a half-hearted shrug.

"Here?"

"I hear you're her favorite department head." House cocked his head to the side, examining Wilson through narrowed eyes. "But I also hear you're married, so I can tell her to stop trying."

"You checked up on me?" He wasn't surprised – how many times had House done it before? But this House didn't even know him.

The diagnostician ignored him, turning his attention to Amber instead. "Who are you," he asked.

She stared at him for a moment, her face completely void of expression. "Amber," she eventually replied. "Excuse me, but do you not know him?" She gestured to Wilson.

"Just met today. I've never had a stalker before."

"I'm not stalking you," Wilson quickly defended.

"Whatever you say. So apparently my girlfriend isn't in here. I'm going to continue my search." And with that, he exited the room.

It was so quiet Wilson wondered if Amber could hear his heartbeat. Being around House, knowing the wall that stood between them, was deeply unsettling. He couldn't imagine anything worse, though he told himself that he couldn't pretend it wasn't nice to have Amber's company. He would have someone to talk to, someone to help him.

"This must be killing you," she said softly, all humor vanishing from her demeanor. She reached across the desk, taking his hand and weaving her fingers through his own. He realized that it felt like a lifetime ago that that simple gesture could summon butterflies to his stomach, though it was comforting, in a way.

"It was Cuddy's mom," he muttered, choosing not to acknowledge her statement. "She called me and said she wanted to talk to me, so I went over there. And she gave me something to drink and then I woke up in this fucked up world."

Amber frowned. "But why would she do that? I mean, what did she have to gain?"

"House is with Cuddy here – they actually broke up a little over a year ago. Maybe she's decided that he's her soul mate."

"Let's go."

Twenty minutes later Wilson and Amber stood outside the house he had visited just the day before and he wasn't sure if he was relieved or terrified to see that it looked pretty much the same. He turned to his counterpart who sighed, then reached forward, pounding on the door.

Barely two seconds later the door swung open and Arlene Cuddy stood in the door way. When she saw who it was she immediately tried to shut it back, but Amber was too fast for her, halting it with her foot.

"What the hell is going on," Wilson demanded, glaring at Arlene over Amber's shoulder.

Cuddy's mother widened her eyes in innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do," Amber chimed in. "If you're the one who messed everything up then we're guessing that that means you got to keep your memory too. He asked you a question."

And just like that the mask slipped completely away and the woman with them stuck out her chin haughtily. "There's nothing you can do."

"Nothing we can do," Wilson repeated incredulously. "You must be kidding."

Arlene smiled. "There's no remedy, no potion, no spell. This is the new reality. Deal with it."

"I'm supposed to be dead," Amber snapped.

"This isn't about you, dear," Arlene answered. "My daughter deserves to be happy. She put up with a lot of crap from House over the years, and if he has to sacrifice his friendship with Wilson for them to stay together then that's just the way it has to be. It's the least he can do."

"So, that's what you did, then," Wilson said slowly. "You changed things so that House and I never met. How does that correlate to him and Cuddy being together? Or him not working?"

Arlene shrugged. "No idea. But, quite frankly, that's not my problem. Now I'm asking the two of you to leave, now, please, or I'll be forced to call the police."

"Do you think she's telling the truth," Wilson couldn't help asking as they made their way back to the car. "Do you really think it's stuck this way?"

Amber rolled her eyes. "Of course not. Come on, you can't lose all hope now. I mean, obviously she would say that there's no cure, but whatever. She's the villain. You know better than to trust the bad guys. We got what we needed, I think – a confession. The motive."

"So do you have any idea what we should do now?"

Amber glanced up and when her eyes met his, he knew the answer.

"Of course."