The cemetery was silent, the golden light of dusk spilling over the treetops surrounding the graves and falling upon the single, kneeling figure who was simply gazing at one of the headstones.

"I'm sorry, Amber," came the quiet words, spoken to the chilly, gray tombstone.

Amber Volakis

Beloved daughter,

1979-2008

"I didn't want this," the vaunted diagnostician said sadly, "for you or for him."

He laughed bitterly.

"Believe it or not I was actually getting used to the idea of you two together. I know everyone thinks I'm oblivious to stuff like that but I knew. I could tell how much he loved you. You want to know something? I think he was thinking of marrying you. He's had so many failed marriages but you were different. You didn't just take from him like the others did; you gave, too. And you didn't see me as a threat like the others. You saw me as a challenge."

A small smile curved House's lips.

"Damn…I have to admit I respected that. I think he did, too. Maybe that's why he fell for you."

House sighed.

"Do you want to know why I was in the bar that night? I knew that even though we'd always be friends he had someone else. Someone who really made him happy. It sounds stupid but I think I was jealous of that."

At this a tear fell down House's face.

"I knew that was something I'd never have. Damn it!" he said, wiping angrily at the tears now flowing freely. Blowing out a huge breath he continued staring at the gravestone.

"I've really done it this time. I've finally driven the best friend I've ever had right out of my life. He'll never forgive me. Not this time."

"Don't you think I should make that decision?" came a quiet voice from behind him.

House stood up, spinning around violently. Wilson stood there, his face the picture of grief.

"I-" House said, his chest tightening within him, "I didn't know you'd be here. I'll go," House said, turning to make his way through the cemetery.

"Why?" Wilson said, "why do you have to go?"

"I just," House said, shaking his head, "I didn't think you'd want me here."

"Public place," Wilson said, "you have just as much right to be here as I do."

Silence reigned for several long moments.

"Did you mean what you said?" Wilson asked.

"About what?"

"Understanding," Wilson said quietly, "why I loved her."

"You heard that?" House said, seeming to shrink within himself.

Wilson nodded.

"I…" House said, "I thought I was alone."

"Well you weren't," Wilson said, slightly exasperated now, "are you that worried about your image as a complete ass that you won't even answer my question? I heard what you said, House. Deal with it and then talk to me."

"I don't know what I could possibly say," House said, his voice tinged with sorrow, "I came here to…I don't know, think out loud, I guess. Figure things out."

"And?" Wilson prompted.

"And I can't think of any reason why you would forgive me."

"How about the fact that you weren't responsible for her death? Or that you did everything you could to save her, to find out the answer. That you risked your life just to give her a chance and to give me the peace of a final goodbye? Those seem like pretty good reasons to me."

"But if I hadn't been in that bar in the first place none of this would have happened."

"Fair enough," Wilson said, nodding, "but if the bus hadn't crashed none of this would have happened either. You're not responsible for that, and you're not responsible for being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"But?" House prompted, sensing something more.

"I think you know as well as I do that your life isn't what you want it to be. Sooner or later there'll be another situation like Amber's. The only difference is that next time it will be your fault."

"What do you-"

"Come on, House! Be honest with yourself. You know that it's only a matter of time before you get drunk or high and crash your car or that bike or just plain O.D. You'll kill yourself or someone else. Or both."

House was silent, but Wilson took that as assent.

"I will not forgive you if that happens." Wilson said, his voice hard.

House nodded.

"So what does this mean?" House asked, turning to look at Amber's grave once more.

Wilson sighed, then followed suit. After a few long moments, during which the two men stood gazing at the silent headstone in the gathering dark, Wilson finally answered.

"Make your choice, House. Do something to get your life back, or spiral into an irrevocable decay. I will do whatever I can as your friend to help you. But you need to know that I can't watch you destroy yourself."

House was silent for a long moment, then nodded.

"I realized something recently, Wilson. It's taken a hell of a long time to admit it to myself, but I have. You deserve to know it, too."

"What's that?"

House turned to look at Wilson, and Wilson locked eyes with the older man.

"I don't want to be in pain," House said slowly, "I don't want to be miserable."

House took a deep, steadying breath before he spoke again.

"But most of all," he finished, his voice stronger now with the weight of his certainty, "I don't want you to hate me."