Disclaimer : These characters don't belong to me they're the amazing creations of David Shore
[This is an AU from the episode 'House's Head' Season 4, Episode 15]
The bartender wasn't budging. House's keys were nowhere in sight, and no amount of sarcasm or bribery could loosen his grip. House glared at the man but knew he'd lost this battle.
With a heavy sigh, he pulled out his phone and dialed Wilson. Wilson, who would show up with that irritating combination of concern and disappointment that House pretended to hate but secretly depended on.
After two rings, someone answered, but it wasn't Wilson.
"Wilson's phone," Amber's voice said, sharp and no-nonsense.
House's lips twisted into a smirk. "Cutthroat Bitch. Just the person I didn't want to talk to."
"What do you want, House?" she asked, already exasperated.
"I want Wilson," he said. "I need a ride. The bartender staged a coup and seized my keys. Apparently, they don't trust crippled geniuses behind the wheel after a drink or five."
There was a pause. Then Amber sighed. "Fine. I'll be there in fifteen."
Amber arrived fifteen minutes later, stepping into the bar with her usual no-nonsense demeanor. Her heels clicked against the floor as she approached him.
"Look who it is," he drawled. "Wilson's better half. Or worse, depending on the day."
Amber ignored him, scanning the room like she was on a mission. "Let's go. You called for a ride."
"Not so fast," House said, signaling to the bartender. "One drink. Or two. For you."
"Not happening," Amber said, crossing her arms. "You're drunk. I'm driving."
"Not until you sit," he said, his voice quieter now but no less insistent. His smirk softened into something almost vulnerable. "Humor me."
There was something in his tone she didn't recognize. It wasn't his usual sarcasm or bravado—it was rawer, unguarded. Against her better judgment, she sat down.
"One drink," she said firmly. "Then we're leaving."
House gestured to the bartender, who slid two shots across the counter. Amber eyed them, then him.
"Do you ever quit?" she asked.
"Not really," he said with a shrug, pushing one glass toward her. "But I'm persistent in a charming way."
Amber rolled her eyes but picked up the glass. She downed the shot in one smooth motion and set the empty glass down with a sharp clink. House followed suit, his smirk returning.
"Happy?" she asked.
"Not yet," he said, but there was no bite to his words. He just looked at her, his usual defenses lowered ever so slightly.
"What's your angle, Greg?" she asked, her voice less confrontational now. "What do you want?"
He tilted his head, studying her. "You're smarter than Wilson gives you credit for," he said, sidestepping her question. "Tougher, too. You scare the hell out of him, you know."
Amber frowned. "What's your point?"
House smiled faintly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I don't have one. Just making an observation."
For a moment, there was silence between them. Then Amber surprised herself by asking, "Why'd you call Wilson tonight?"
House's smirk faltered, his gaze dropping to the empty glass in his hand. "Because sometimes… I just need him to show up."
Amber stared at him, caught off guard by the honesty in his voice. She wasn't used to seeing House like this—unguarded, almost human.
"And now I'm here," she said quietly.
"Lucky me," he murmured, a flicker of something genuine passing across his face.
They locked eyes, the air between them charged with something unspoken. Then, before either of them could think better of it, Amber leaned in and kissed him. House kissed her back, and for a few seconds, she wasn't the cutthroat bitch trying to get the job, she was just... Amber... Beautiful, and so much like him.
It was brief, unexpected, and electric. When they pulled apart, neither of them said a word.
"Let's go," Amber said finally, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her chest.
He stands up, and limps to the exit without a word, forgetting his cane.
They got on the bus, Amber getting in later than him, she hands him his cane, "You forgot something"
The bus ride was quiet. House sat by the window, his head leaning against the glass. Amber sat beside him, her expression unreadable. He glanced at her once, a fleeting look that carried more weight than either of them acknowledged.
She caught his gaze for a moment, then looked away, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
The screech of tires came too fast. The crash was a blur of noise, motion, and pain
-Hours after the brain stimulation- (watch the episode to understand)
When House woke, the room was dim and silent. His body ached, and his mind felt sluggish, but the pieces began falling into place. He remembered the crash. He remembered Amber.
The empty chair by his bedside told him everything.
Cuddy stood near the door, her arms crossed. When he looked at her, she stepped closer, her expression soft but composed. Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall.
"You're back," she said softly, her voice thick with emotion.
House stared at her, the weight of everything crushing down on him. "Amber," he muttered, his throat dry. "She's…"
Cuddy nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. "She's gone."
He closed his eyes, the memory of the crash replaying in his mind. He remembered trying to save her, remembered the chaos and the pain. And now, she was gone.
Later, when the painkillers pulled him into a restless sleep, he dreamed of the bus.
Amber sat across from him, whole and unbroken. She looked at him with that sharp, knowing gaze, but her expression was softer than he'd ever seen it in life.
"You're not real," he said, his voice heavy with guilt.
"No," she agreed, her lips curling into a faint smile. "But you needed this."
He stared at her, words failing him.
She leaned back, her gaze never leaving his. "I like you, Greg," she said softly. "For the way you are. All of it."
The bus slowed, and she stood, her silhouette framed by the dim light outside the windows. "Goodbye, Greg."
The doors opened, and she stepped off into the shadows.
He woke up with a jolt, House said nothing, the weight of the dream still heavy on him.
In the days that followed, he never spoke of the kiss, the conversation, or the vision of Amber on the bus. But in the quiet moments, when the pain became too much, he held onto her final words.
"I like you for the way you are."
End.