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"Goodbye, House." Cameron whispered as she turned from him and left his apartment.
A few seconds after his door closed, he inhaled sharply, not realizing he had been holding his breath.
"Goodbye, House." he heard again, his traitorous brain reiterating her words, haunting him. He gazed up to the ceiling, the realization of what just happened finally registering. What had he done?
As if on cue, his brain began to show an encounter from earlier in their day: "I'm not gonna crush you." he had told her earnestly.
But that is precisely what he had done.
His feet felt rooted to the floor. His head felt light. He had to sit down, the pain in his leg only eclipsed by the pain emanating from his heart. He managed to limp across his living room to his couch and grimaced as he lowered himself to the cushions.
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He could see her standing in front of him behind his eyes. Could almost feel her, in fact. The look on her face, the sorrow in her eyes, her body language laced with her frustration and sadness... it broke his heart. It broke his heart to know HE had caused her to feel this way. He was the reason why she was unable to stay with him.
"Stay at the hospital, you idiot." House spoke aloud to his empty living room. His eyes shot open, and he lifted and shook his head as he glanced around the room, embarrassed. Thankfully, no one was there to hear or see him in this vulnerable state. "Thankfully..." he muttered aloud again, the line between private thoughts and spoken words now blurred by his anger, as well as the tears he hadn't noticed were falling until one slid down his cheek and landed on his hand.
"Christ..." he grumbled, as he slid his hand across his eyes. "What is happening to me?" He sat up and looked across his living room to where they had been standing moments before. He became transfixed. He could see them there together, not 10 feet from where he was sitting right now. He could see her extending her hand, and he could see his inability to look at her. "God, why didn't I say something to her?" he yelled aloud to no one. "Why didn't I LOOK at her?" his voice raised even further, his anger more apparent.
"There are only two ways I can deal with things. One is in my control. That's to leave. Goodbye, House." Cameron had said, trying not to cry.
He could hear the pain in her voice as she said goodbye to him. He wondered if she felt the same then as he did in this moment.
He shivered at the thought.
He was the cause of both of their miserable states of being. How could he treat her this way? How could he not tell perhaps the sweetest, most endearing woman he had ever known, that he loved her and didn't want her to leave him? Unbeknownst to him, his left hand had clenched. He felt his nails cutting into the palm of his hand. He punched the sofa cushion next to him in defeat and screamed "No!" to the empty room.
He leaned his head back to the sofa and stared up to the ceiling. He sighed. He knew what he had to do. She was gone. He knew that as long as she wasn't with him, he would forever have an empty space in his heart. Suddenly, with a new resolve, he stood up from the couch. He limped to his bathroom and grabbed a partially used bottle of Vicodin from his medicine cabinet. After stuffing them in his pocket, he hobbled back towards the couch, and grabbed the 1/2 finished bottle of Scotch from his dining room table on the way.
There was no need for a glass.
He arrived at the couch, with a resolute smile. He couldn't bear to hear her voice in his head or see her face anymore tonight.
Slowly and deliberately, he took a pill out of the bottle he had removed from his pocket. He gently placed it on his tongue and screwed the top off the bottle of scotch. With a quick toss of his hand and neck, he swallowed the first pill. He exhaled and shook his head, the mixture of narcotic and alcohol mingling in his mouth. He drew another pill from the orange bottle, and swished another large mouthful of the liquor.
"This will either knock me out for the night or kill me." he thought to himself, with neither option sounding disadvantageous to him at that moment.
As he slowly emptied both the contents of the vicodin bottle and the bottle of scotch, he kept remembering moments they had shared: The Christmas gift she bought for him. Her birthday wish to him in the hallway. Her open and honest conversation about her husband. The night of the monster truck race. He shuddered at the thought. Cotton candy in the parking lot. He could almost taste it... He shook his head violently, trying to etch-a-sketch the reminiscences from his mind. With each memory, he consumed another pill, and imbibed more Scotch.
"Everyone likes you."
"Do you? I have to know."
"How could I look her in her green eyes and lie to her? How could I tell her I didn't like her???" A voice answered from his subconscious. "Because she would have seen that you loved her. You surely couldn't have that."
He looked around the room, expecting to someone else in the room with him this time. He was still alone.
And then he heard it again. "Goodbye, House."
With that, he spilled the 3 remaining pills into his palm, tossed them in his mouth, and ingested the remaining liquid from the bottle. He clutched the empty bottleneck to his chest and closed his eyes, and could feel the room spinning behind them. He squeezed them tighter, but that just made it worse. At least being dizzy and nauseous was a distraction.
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The sun was warm on his face. He squinted through one eye, surveyed his apartment, and judged by the way the shadows hung from the walls, he either had to call in sick to work, or get up and face Foreman and Chase and tell them what had happened the evening before.
As he stood, the bottle he had pulled to him a few hours before dropped to the floor and shattered. He could vaguely remember a dream during the night. He had told Cameron he loved her, and then pulled her to him in a desirous embrace...
He exhaled and drug himself to the bathroom. He had to go to work. He needed the diversion.
As expected, Chase and Foreman reacted with disdain and disbelief to the news of Cameron's departure. He sat on the counter by the sink in the exam room and took another swig of his water as they exited the room, staring off at the wall opposite his penetrating gaze.
As the days went by, he thought about her constantly. He even went as far as to interview for a replacement for her. He knew that was impossible. No one could take her place, professionally or personally.
He had never cared enough about anyone to be sorry. She made it easier for him to be him. For once in his life, he was going to make things right. For him, and especially for her. She deserved to be happy. And for once, House realized he deserved the same. He deserved her.
No matter what either one of them had ever said or done to the other, they always found their way home.
He abruptly ended the last interview. Walked out in the middle of it, leaving Wilson and the applicant bewildered. He had to see her.
He walked down the hall to her apartment, and knocked on her door, awaiting a new beginning he knew he was finally ready for. And entitled to.