It was big. Not Cuddy's ass, he already knew that was big. The hole he made. Not only in her house, but in her heart too.
He watched as she and Rachel made their way to her car with a suitcase in hand. Why had he done this? 'This is not how you woo her back to you, idiot,' he thought. He bit his lip and sighed.
Cuddy opened the door for her daughter and buckled her in. She closed the door and made her way to the trunk, dropping the luggage in the back. As she closed the trunk, she found herself staring at the tarp that shielded the rest of the living room from harm.
She stared hard at the broken home that in essence reflected her heart. He did this. She never thought he was capable of real harm. She was lucky he hadn't hit anyone; otherwise she would've instinctively run at him, his neck more precisely. She would've killed him.
House had bought a new car. He got rid of his bike and his old beater and opted for a newer piece of shit. His phone sat quietly on his lap as his eyes scanned the damage he had done. It had been days since anyone had tried to get a hold of him. Wilson stopped calling last night and it had been almost a week since any of his team tried to reach him. He wasn't used to this kind of quiet. Nobody knew he had returned to Princeton yet, and he wasn't about to let anybody know.
Cuddy hung her head for a moment, rubbing her forehead. There was nothing she could do about the house now or about House for that matter. The cops hadn't found him yet and he hadn't tried to make contact. She lifted her head and took a deep breath. She knew it didn't matter anyways. This was his point. He was so shattered and had fallen so hard that nothing mattered.
She made her way to the driver's seat and started the car. Cuddy backed out of the driveway and nothing made her sadder than when she pulled away. She wasn't letting anything go, she just knew nothing would be the same when she would return after the renovation/repair. No, it is a renovation. She was rebuilding her life, not only her home but herself and Rachel, too. That night, everything had changed.
He watched her pull away and shook his head. He, Greg House, had messed up any chance he had at happiness that day he rashly, jealously, and angrily blasted through her home, her heart. He hadn't even thought of his little Cuddy-buddy when he did that.
The week he left town to Cancun, he slammed back shot after shot of tequila trying to numb the pain and hurt he had done to himself. Regret, humiliation, guilt, anger and rage filled his addict-self as he put away every ounce of alcohol Juan, his enabling beach bartender, put in front of him. He hadn't done anything like this since Mayfield, at least at this level. It only took a day before he found a place he could get Vicodin. His month supply was gone in less than a day. He was high as a kite that Wednesday and didn't come down until Thursday night as he found himself grabbing his leg in pain. He reached for the phone and had almost dialed Cuddy but then caught himself. He hadn't cried yet, but at that point he finally let his emotions take over. He couldn't numb them for any longer.
Now he was back to face the real demons, the ones he had created out of frustration. He got out of the car and pulled a note out of his pocket as he approached her mailbox. He placed it inside and shut it. He limped, every step excruciating, back to his car across the street. This was his first of what he knew were going to be many attempts at trying to get Cuddy to at least look at him. He pulled away from his spot on the curb and followed her.
"Momma, are we gonna see Hows today?" Rachel asked Lisa as they entered the hospital.
"No, sweetie. House isn't here anymore. Remember? He moved," Cuddy lied.
"I thought you said Hows was gone for a trip?" She knew her kid was smart, but that memory was going to bite Cuddy in the ass again soon.
"No, he left." Cuddy tried to shield her daughter from her hurt eyes with a reassuring smile.
"Mommy, don't be mad at Hows. Sometimes he's just a bloody scallywag but he doesn't mean it. Like when I don't finish my broccoli." She tried to persuade Cuddy. 'God, House. My daughter defends you like you're her dad. Damm you, House—and That cartoon.'
"He's just done some really bad things. I don't want to be mad at him, it's just hard not to be, okay Rachel?"
"Do you still love Hows?" Rachel asked as they walked through doors to Cuddy's office. She sat on her couch.
"Yes." She still cared for him. She always would. "But for now, he's not here. So let's get you to daycare, huh?" She picked up her smiling daughter and placed her on her hip, carrying her out into the lobby.
Cuddy returned to her office and dropped into her chair. Leaning back, she took out her phone. She started scanning through old photos. Rachel and House sleeping on her bed, Rachel cuddled up next to him on the couch, her asleep on House's chest, Cuddy smiling asleep. He saw everything good in her and made sure she always saw it too. Then a picture of House, asleep on his lounge chair in his office with Rachel curled upon him.
Cuddy let a tear fall. It had been almost a day since she last shed any emotion besides brokenness. She turned to her desk and dug in her desk. She pulled out her I-Pod and played her 'House' mix.
The Avett Brother's "Tear Down the House" began playing over her office speakers. She stood and walked over to her doors. She shut the door blinds and locked her door as she hit the lights. She walked over to her couch and curled up in a ball and light whimpers soon turned into sobs as the next song, "Time After Time" by Cyndi Lauper, started. The dribbles of tears became more like a flood as her pain poured out through a silent sob.
All that consumed his thoughts was her, Cuddy, as he pulled in front of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.
He turned on his phone and began looking through photos. House had never been a sentimental man, but she made him this way. He had never cared for anyone like he had for her. Not even Stacy entranced him like Cuddy. Her ebony curls, her perfect smile and her big brown eyes. Lisa Cuddy could melt him in a second whenever he saw her, thought of her.
The song playing over his radio, "Time After Time" by Cyndi Lauper, reminded him of her. He remembered their dance at the conference and how sexy she looked in her Flashdance attire, super curls and all. He also recalled the look she had in her eyes as he saved her from the idiot who wanted to dance with her. They smiled at him, her big blue eyes. They weren't their normal ice blue tone though, they seemed warmer. Every time she smiled at him, they got warmer in tone. He loved that he had that effect on her. 'I really fucked up.' House slammed his head against his steering wheel.
Wilson watched from the bench outside the courtyard of PPTH. House was quite a sight for sore eyes. Ragged and broken, more so than after his leg problems and after Stacy left him. He was truly not himself. Wilson really didn't know how to approach his best friend. He was mad at House for what he did, livid in fact. But his friends were hurting. He couldn't choose one over the other. He took a sip of water from his bottle and stood.