' House, hey, House! '

Wilson called him, but his words seemed to be far away from reaching House's ears. He was zoning out, looking at the same couch where the figure of Wilson's ex-girlfriend, now dead, Amber laid on. House knew it was only his mind playing him games, and that he should just.. Ignore the figure laying Infront of him, but he couldn't — He was too mesmerized, and thanks to the fact that the death of Kutner had affected him greatly, he was more vulnerable than ever.

.

House had blamed himself for the death of Amber countless of times, and after finally passing page, he was once again struck in the same old, rusty melody; Running circles of self-blame and silent grief for his now dead worker. And now here he was, seeing Wilson's long-gone girlfriend sit down in the couch while Wilson spoke to him words that he couldn't even seem to understand. Everything else was blurred for him, a shade of darkness an grey that hoovered above the before colorful world that House once saw.

.

He couldn't focus on the minor details, and that was why he was starting to forget minor things and starting to see everything more.. Blurry, to label it. House's blue eyes were lost, as if trying to find his response inside his brain — This hallucination of Amber was nothing but grief, anger, tiredness and his consciousness mixed. He couldn't see the details of Wilson's face, and that was tickling him off.

' He's..- I know..•°'

House's words came out slowly, cut, as if he still couldn't believe the fact that Amber was there — Or at least in his imagination. House could feel Wilson's tone become more worried and confused, he heard what House mumbled, but for House, Wilson was already just part of the big picture. House gripped his cane, his unkept and messy appearance was a great contrast from how he was before; He was tired, but having a direct key to his subconsciousness was actually useful to fix and treat cases, he couldn't just give up on that to sleep.