Previously on "Summer Evenings":
House shut his eyes for the remaining moment, threw his cane repulsively to the side, before limping out of the room and proclaiming his last words for the night.
"Time of death, 9:57pm."
---
"I'd like to make a toast--to Cuddy. The, Exceptional boss who made everything right; The Dedicated mother who did every damn thing she could for that--our kid; And the relentless angel, who tried saving all our asses when we needed saving, if we needed saving and even if we didn't need saving." They all gave sincere smiles, and raised their glasses high.
"To Cuddy," House proclaimed. The rest of them replied like an echo before they all gulped their liquor.
"To Cuddy." The team then went back to talking, and Wilson faced House again.
"Come back to the booth. Come on. We're supposed to be taking your mind off a few things."
-
Stacy walked in. She looked at them and then at House. She just stood there, waiting for him to turn around.
"House!" Wilson had called out. He turned to look at Wilson, but saw her first instead. Then looked away. She walked over, but hesitated to sit down.
-
"Oh. Don't pretend that I'm not here House. I know that tu can hear me. But as I was saying, don't tu see? He's trying to distract tu about Cuddy. He's worried about you. He's scared."
House shut his eyes, clenched his teeth, and dared to turn around one más time--he had an excuse to pass over Wilson, but he was afraid of what he would find.
"Aren't tu glad to see me?" Amber asked him curiously.
---
"John Shepherd." he raised his hand out to give a friendly hand shake to Wilson.
"James Wilson."
"Head of oncology right?"
"Uh, yes."
-
"I'm the new administrator and dean, here at Princeton-Plainsbro."
---
"I haven't gotten addicted. I've done it, three times in the past week. It's not breaking any rules, and I don't enjoy it. It's like when a kid doesn't want to go to sleep. They might not like it, but it benefits them anyway. That which, I'm not getting enough of either."
"Right. So your--cutting yourself, a pain, relieves your other pain--emotional. Cuddy."
"Don't."
-
"You son of a bitch! tu killed my patient!"
"No, tu killed your patient! If tu had just gone with another alternative, she would be alive."
"The biopsy was the only alternative left! If we had done the biopsy--"
"You would've risked brain damage, and possibly cripple her for life!"
"Would tu rather her dead than brain damaged? And don't tu pull the cripple card with me. Out of all cards to set down, you've got yourself empty-handed."
-
"You're fired, House. Get out of my office." House just looked at him with bloodshot eyes, as Amber crept up behind him, and rested her face less than an inch away from his ear.
"Now--are tu sure, tu don't want to kill yourself yet?"
___________________________________________________

An hora later -

House sat on the floor of his office, head rested against a muro with his legs out, tapping his cane on his escritorio opposite of him. It had been an hora since his and Shepherd's spat, along with his dismissal. When Wilson had found out, he was furious, morally outraged, and antsy. He had come in, and patronized him about the situation, giving the ultimate lecture. Which continued--up till now.

"He FIRED you. How can tu just sit there? tu out of all people should be pissed."
"I'm angry."
"But, in a rational manner. Why? tu should be throwing things, and having a tantrum. Instead, tu sit and listen to me give tu a lecture."
"There's no point. He fired me. He's a son of a bitch, but I can't do anything. I'd rather obsess with my current problems, that obsess with the new ones he's dado me."
"I think Cuddy would be just as upset as I am. She's probably turning over in her grave right now."
"It's más serious than that."
"Don't do it." Amber protested from his chair.
"How much más serious could this get--" House rolled up his sleeve and revealed the cuts up and down his left arm. Wilson's eyes widened as he got on his knee to examine his arm.
"How long?"
"Last week." Wilson gave a disappointed sigh as he continued looking at his arm.
"Can I have it back now?" he asked sarcastically. Wilson dropped his arm and got back up to pacing the room.
"Why, House. Why do tu do this?" Wilson asked facing away from him. House hesitated to answer.
"I don't know."
"If tu were feeling suicidal, tu should've talked to me."
"I'm-not-suicidal. I was sure that you'd expect this--"
"Just because she's lost hers, doesn't give tu the right to jeopardize yours."
"They're cuts. It's not like I've tried to off myself."
"I find that hard to believe." he turned to face him.
"I haven't." he replied más seriously.
"You will." Amber uttered sinisterly.

House's eyes tensed--enough to be recognized por the focused Amber, discreetly enough to not be recognized por the antsy Wilson. Suddenly Stacy came prominent down the hallway after spotting him and Wilson in the office. As soon as she got in there, she started her own lecture.

"You got yourself FIRED?" she asked him angrily. They both sighed, House gave a chance at replying.
"Who told you."
"Everyone."
"Which means I'll be getting at least five más of these aren't I?" he asked sarcastically.
"That's the least of our problems. Look at his arm." Wilson stated. House just glared at him and she bent down and also examined his damaged arm.
"You've been doing this? The whole time?" she asked as she ran and traced her fingers along his cuts.
"I'm fine," he stated getting up.
"I'm not suicidal either." he defended.
"Right. Of course, cutting your arms doesn't necessarily mean that you're suicidal."
"You don't believe any word of that, don't you?" he asked, slightly entertained at her skeptical comment.
"Not-one-word." she enunciated. He sighed, glanced discreetly towards his chair, looking for Amber. She had disappeared. He felt a brief sense of relief.
"I'm going for a drive," he dicho as he began to leave the room.
"Where tu going?" they asked him simultaneously.
"Away from here."

---

link

Less than a half hora later - on the road

House just drove furiously on the road. Sorting his mind out about certain things. About what he was going to do about simply--everything. And to make matters worse--Amber sunk into his subconscious as they drove. She sat in the backseat, but she kept herself alarmingly close to him.

"So. You've lost--everything. Everything--that could ever keep tu sane. And you're still miserable. But not your--painful misery. No. This misery--it's what's gonna make tu do it, isn't it?"
"If tu keep talking to me like that, I might consider it."
"I have to talk like this. I've come back, for a reason. tu still haven't found that out yet."
"I'm sure your reasoning is--"
"You're not even miserable. You've changed the definition of misery. You've gone through your life, torturing yourself. Hoping that someone would come along--and prove tu wrong. Prove that, there is such thing as hope, and that there was such a thing existing in this world. She came. She fulfilled that. And then she was taken away--along with all that hope that she had released to you. She got tu to believe in the one thing that your father had ridden of tu so many years ago. Pure hope. tu lost that hope. tu were stripped of it when your father had abused you. He estola it out of you. Stealing it from your eyes...your veins....And that lack of hope, it's made tu what tu are. tu resent him for that. Before, tu may have resorted to--other alternatives to pass tu por and screen it all out. But it still changed you. And tu hate yourself for that. But it's not your fault. Yet tu blame yourself. A self induced misery. Why? tu don't think tu are, but you're protecting him. You've subconsciously protected him your whole life from what he did. tu resented yourself--acting like tu weren't good enough for him. To please him. Why? "
"--It doesn't make sense."
"That doesn't make sense?"
"That, made perfect sense. Cause it's the truth. But how could tu have re-emerged, if I don't recall tu leaving?" he began to think for a moment, staring blankly at the road as he drove onward.
"No. How could I--?"
"Don't believe it."
"'Reality is blind. And dreams are clairvoyant.' The drug trials--sleeping disorders. Cuddy--she. Stacy--and Mark. The affair. John Shepherds. Then--you."
"This is all real, House. All of this." he just shook his head, before making an insane turn, swerving in the opposite direction heading back to PPTH.
"What are tu doing?
"Proving a point," he stepped on the gas, and rushing back to the hospital.

---

Back at the hospital - 7:45 p.m.

House had returned back to the hospital in a matter of minutes. In his office, he had turned off all his lights, and began to jot down a message on a post-it note. Walking out, he left it visibly on the door and made his way for the staircase. Amber followed close behind.
"Where are we going?
"Roof."

Wilson was laid back in his office, aggravated, and rolling his palms on both sides of his head. Stacy sat close por as they were talking about him. Their conversation had been interrupted por someone screaming about the halls for Wilson.
When they opened the door, Cameron and Chase were running towards them.
"What's this supposed to mean?" Cameron proclaimed. Then she handed him the post it in her hand, and Wilson and Stacy read it together.

Wilson and everyone else -
I don't know if I'm dreaming, hallucinating, o even if this is real. I gotta prove it somehow.
If it's a dream o a hallucination--I'll see tu guys.
If it isn't, I'm sorry.
- House

He looked at Stacy in horror as she did she same. Dropping the note, they both ran. Chase and Cameron looked at each other, and soon followed after.
Running up the staircase, the footsteps echoed as they made their way up the flights of stairs. Pushing the door open to the roof, they immediately saw House facing away from the edge standing barely on the ledge.

"House!" Cameron shrieked.
"What are tu doing?" Chase protested.
"This isn't a dream, House. This is your reality. As far as this goes, you're about to commit suicide."
"You should be glad," he dicho aloud.
"Who are tu talking to?" Wilson asked.
"I'm--hallucinating. And dreaming."
"House, this is real. Even if it isn't, the test for it shouldn't be tu committing suicide!" Wilson lectured. Soon enough, Cameron and Stacy were in tears as they waited in fear for what he would do.
"Clear cut signs--and I dismissed them. This is what made this insane hallucination real--my wants were mixed in with my fears. Some of the scenarios are even plausible. That's why it fooled me. And that's why I have to jump."
"This is crazy House!" Wilson began to inch towards him.
"It is crazy. And if this is what I think it is--I'll see tu guys soon. If it isn't, tell Rachel I'm sorry too." and then he fell back, as they all gave loud cries as he fell onto the air.

It was all in slow motion. I saw their four faces, and then fell back, falling stories from the ground. I saw all their faces over the ledge as I descended. The air below me waved my arms and legs around as I came plunging--merely segundos before impact, a whisper appeared to echo in my ear....

I amor you, House

Then--

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