Archive of Our Own

Wilson was away from Amber's bedside when House dropped by.

Leaning heavily on his cane, House stood at the side of Amber's ICU bed, watching the rise and fall of her breathing. She seemed to be resting easy; automatically House glanced at the ECG, and was reassured by its steady beep.

He then flipped her chart open on the bedside table. Against Cuddy's medical advice--hell, against House's, too--Wilson had kept Amber on bypass, as if his strength of will alone would pull her through. Wilson had added hemodialysis and an exchange transfusion too, a last-ditch heroic effort.

To everyone's surprise, the gamble had worked. Yesterday she'd been successfully weaned off the heart-lung machine. She faced a long recovery--she'd need a kidney transplant--but she'd live. House was relieved, and impressed--

And he wondered why he'd never considered it himself, when it was so obvious in retrospect. His fellows and Cuddy not thinking of the exchange transfusion was one thing, but he--

Maybe that was why he hadn't seen Wilson since that night after his seizure. Wilson was avoiding him.

He really couldn't blame him, either.

House shook himself out of his reverie. He was here now; just get on with it and go, he told himself. The sooner it was over, the sooner he could go back to destroying his own life. He was grateful though, that Amber was asleep right now, because it made what he was going to say easier. Five days ago he'd undergone the deep brain stimulation for Wilson. Now he owed this to her.

He reached out, as if to touch her shoulder. "Amber--" he began.

At that moment, Amber stirred, and her eyes fluttered open.

He pulled back and cleared his throat. "Hey."

She looked up and sighed. "House. Not the first face I wanted to see." She then peered at the stark walls of the ICU. "How long have I been out since the crash?"

"Long enough."

"House--"

"Six days."

"How bad?"

"Princeton General repaired your femoral artery and removed a lacerated kidney. The other one failed; you went into V-tach then V-fib, we put you on bypass. Your liver--"

She drew a shaky breath. "Amantadine poisoning."

House hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah."

She licked her chapped lips. "My kidneys are gone," she said. "My heart--I should be dead. Why am I not--?"

"Wilson went the extra mile. He didn't want to replace you, so he replaced your blood instead."

"Exchange transfusion. Cleared all the drug-bound protein." Amber smiled. "He's even better than I thought."

House's mouth quirked. "You'll be fine once he donates his spare kidney to you. Just remember I got dibs on his liver."

Amber snorted. "Charming."

They fell silent for a minute, only the hum of the lights and the beep of the ECG echoing in the room. House planted himself firmly, steeled himself for what he needed to say.

"Amber--"

"Spare me your apologies, House," she said. "I don't care why you were drunk in that bar." She turned her head away on the pillow.

"I won't interfere with you and Wilson anymore."

Startled, her eyes widened, and she turned to pin him with her gaze. "Really? Why?"

House shrugged. "Fair trade."

She frowned, suspicious. "Nothing's 'fair trade' with you, it's all or nothing. Are you sure it's not just your guilt talking?"

House swallowed hard and bowed his head. "No."

Her voice softened. "The bus crash wasn't your fault, you couldn't have predicted that."

"Does it matter?" House murmured to the blanket. "I almost killed you and destroyed my best friend. I can't do that anymore."

She blinked, dazed for a moment. "You're willing to give him up? Let him go just like that?"

He stared at her, silently begging her to understand. Amber's eyes welled up as the meaning dawned. "I don't know what to say."

House raised his chin. "Wilson deserves to be happy."

After another moment, she nodded, her eyes still glistening. "Yes, he does," she agreed, "with everyone he loves in his life."

House closed his eyes against a sudden stinging. Was she saying--? When he opened them again, she was watching him steadily, a small half-smile tugging at her mouth.

At that they heard a commotion at the door. "House? What the hell are you doing out of bed?"

Wilson set his takeout coffee down on the counter and rushed over to guide House to the visitor's chair.

"Discussing your future with Amber."

Wilson huffed. "Sure. When you two have it all planned out, let me know." He then turned to Amber, his voice growing husky. "Hey. You're awake." He slid onto the bed, tucked a fall of hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. Amber leaned into him and sighed. At that House rose, took his cane, and left. There was nothing here for him anymore.

But when he reached the door, Wilson called out. "Wait."

House turned reluctantly. Amber lay nestled in Wilson's arms, her eyes closed. Wilson's cheek rested against her hair--but he was staring at House, his eyes solemn.

"Thank you," Wilson said, his voice hoarse. "From both of us."

House swallowed. "You're welcome."

"I'll come by later."

"Yeah." With that he left, finally able to clutch at hope again.