The elevator doors pinged open and he remained rooted to the spot. His unseeing focus had been pinned on the inside of the doors, but he didn't even register when they opened. As people started to move past him and out in to the lobby he blinked slowly back to the present. Limping heavily from the metal box he made his way towards the front doors. His eyes were on the floor but he knew she was there. Could feel her gaze. Could picture the pitying expression and apologetic line of her mouth. But he didn't look up. Seeing her this past week had been torture. He didn't want to be that dumped guy who followed his ex around like a kicked puppy, but nor did he want to be the dickhead ex who lashed out with a sharp tongue whenever the opportunity arose. Every option just seemed to hurt too much. One of them. Both of them. It was one in the same really. He knew what he needed to do. This place was never going to let him heal.

As he cleared the admittance desk his name being called had him pausing. But it wasn't a voice he expected to hear in the hospital. It wasn't a voice he really expected to hear ever again. Rachel had pulled free of her mother, ignoring her name being called, and was running towards him as fast as her little legs would allow her. She crashed in to him in a flurry of pastel stripes and light brown bangs and he actually had to close his eyes at the feeling of utter loss he felt. He missed the kid. And he missed everything she represented; everything he could have had. He opened his eyes and turned to meet Cuddy's pleading stare. When his gaze shifted to Rachel she was beaming up at him, a genuinely ecstatic grin lighting up her whole face, and he could swear that was almost a sob he had to swallow.

She was swaying side to side as her little hands held on to the pockets of his jeans, "Where you been?"

Cuddy hadn't told her. Obviously. What the hell do you say to a toddler about a situation like this? "I've been busy, kid. Lots of sick people to heal."

She nodded once, satisfied, "So you coming home now?"

His hand found the top of her head and he smoothed her bangs back from her forehead, watching them fall back in to place. She needed a haircut. He shook his head gently, "I can't. I have to go to my place."

He watched her face fall and knew what was coming. Rachel was not the type of kid who was prone to tantrums, but he could see there was about to be a scene. "NO," it was loud enough to turn a few heads and he saw Cuddy take a step towards them from the corner of his eye, but she stopped when Rachel's arms flew up towards him, a plea to be held, "I miss you, Hows."

Her bottom lip was trembling and her eyes were filled with tears seconds away from being shed. Propping his cane against the desk he reached for her and pulled her up against his chest, her face finding his neck, where she proceeded to all out cry. He rubbed her back gently, trying to soothe her the way he had whenever a bad dream and insomnia had led her to their midnight meetings around the house.

"Hey Rach," he whispered, making her calm slightly and turn her head to watch him with one red eye, "I have a secret. But you can't tell anyone. Has to just be between you and me. Promise?"

When her head raised off his neck and she nodded, he smiled. When he spoke again it was still in a whisper, "I have to go away for a little while. But I'll be back before you know it. And the first thing I'll do is come find you for a play date. How does that sound?"

She still didn't look thrilled, but she seemed to accept what he was telling her, and after a few seconds she nodded, before leaning forward and circling his neck with her arms, "Okay."

He hugged her back and then leant forward to put her back on her feet. Rachel stood before him for a beat and he could swear she was seeing his soul, but then she smiled and waved her tiny hand up at him, "Bye bye, Hows."

As she skipped back towards her mother he sighed heavily, "See ya kid."

Picking up his cane from the desk, his eyes met Cuddy's. Fuck, he loved her. He couldn't do this any more. They'd be together again. Of that he was sure. But he had himself to take care of before he could worry about anyone else.

When he wrote his resignation letter, he was proud of himself.


AN: This wouldn't get out of my head after Bombshells. This and a lot of other stuff. It's exhausting even thinking about getting in to it all.

Reviews are delightful and very much appreciated.

AN II: I'm sorry to those of you who were more upset by this story. I tried to write it with a little glimmer of hope.