Sometimes beginnings aren't so simple.
Sometimes goodbye's the only way.
Shadow of the Day by Linkin Park
Chapter 4 – Goodbye
Your fingers do not stutter this time as you type out your official goodbye. There is no need for nervous twitching, as you doubt he will ever read this missive. You are tempted to lay it all out for him, tell him everything you've ever wanted to say but didn't, take back a few things you did … but you don't. Cuddy would hardly appreciate reading all that in the copy of the letter you intend to leave on her desk. You know House and paperwork and you're taking no chances the administration could go untold of your departure.
You have taken all those thoughts and feelings and put them away. They are sealed up in the back of your mind, in something vaguely resembling a crypt when you think about it enough to visualize it. Everything in that vault was placed there with care. Every whimsical wish, dark desire, pathetic plea and desperate dream you have about the two of you is locked up, the key discarded. You examined each and every one as you placed them there. You intend to leave them undisturbed for a very long time. Forever, if not longer.
You aren't entirely sure what your next step will be. The only thing you are sure of is you are taking it. It may be a mistake. In fact, it almost certainly is. But none of that matters. All that matters is that you take it and that you keep taking each step that follows.
You feel like this is the right decision, in this moment. You have felt a shift coming since Foreman announced his departure. You feel as if this moment, this decision, has been shaping itself within you for even longer than that. You might have let it go unacknowledged indefinitely if not for Foreman and House's actions. You won't say that they made the decision for you; it is yours and yours alone. But they have made it easier.
You understand Foreman's reasons for leaving. You think it is pointless; he will be like House whether he works at PPTH forever or never sees the man again. But you think it is healthy for him to recognize something he doesn't like about himself and to try to change it. He has inspired you.
You understand House's reaction as well. He hates change. You could speculate about his childhood, about his psychology, but you don't. The whys and wherefores don't matter. Change happens. Sometimes you like it and sometimes you don't, but change is inevitable. All change is not bad. You are going to prove it.
You have learned enough to move on. You have learned to be a better doctor, but it is so much more than that. You have learned to be a better thinker. And you have learned more about yourself in three years under his scrutiny that you could in ten years of therapy. It has been painful, heartbreaking at times; you believe you are a stronger person for it.
But you don't like how much your world has become centered on this one man. Everything about the last three years has been House. Your work, your free time or lack thereof, your self worth, your beliefs…all have been profoundly affected by him. You can't change that, nor would you want to. But you can't let it continue. You are ready for the next change, and if you stay with him it will never happen.
You finish typing and stare at the blinking cursor below your name. You read the letter from start to finish, and wish there was some way that you could express all these thoughts to him in a way that he could understand and accept. You know that will probably never happen. Anything even resembling sentiment is valueless to him.
You fold up the letter and close down your laptop. You glance around your quiet apartment, wondering how much longer you will call this place home. You don't know, but you are not as scared as you thought you would be. You are taking a huge step, but you hope you won't have to take it alone.
You gather up your purse, sliding your resignation letter into the front pocket, and grab your keys and jacket. You have a stop to make before you go back to the hospital.
You stare at a ceiling you have come to know almost as well as your own. You listen to the steady breathing of the man beside you. You do care about him. And you have no doubt that he cares deeply about you, perhaps even loves you. For now, that is enough.
You lean forward and snap off the TV in House's office. Wilson is standing beside you and you remember talking about cheating with him. You don't recall House being there, but you are sure you can feel his presence, even in this memory.
"You didn't do it, did you? You didn't sleep with him," Wilson asks, his voice sad and surprised.
"I couldn't have lived with myself," you tell him, and even as you speak the words you think this is wrong. This isn't about House. Not everything is about House. Isn't that why you left, because you want a life apart from House?
"You'd be surprised what you can live with," Wilson says, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He nods to a shadowy figure lurking in the corner of the office as he exits.
You want to tell him he's wrong. You know what you can live with; you know what is right and what isn't. You try to stand to follow him, protest that you wouldn't live with less than the truth, but you can't move. You are frozen, paralyzed.
The shadowy figure moves from the dark recesses of the room toward you. You push harder against the chair, but it is as if you have been glued there. You strain and twist, but to no avail. You can't escape. You are trapped.
The figure stands in front of you, tall and imposing. You look up at the visage that looms above you, but the harsh fluorescent lights above blind you and you cannot see his face.
"House, stop it," you say shakily. The figure kneels and you stare in open mouthed shock.
It's not House. It's your husband.
"Still not thinking of me first," he says sadly. You feel a tear slide down your face, and you try to speak but now your voice is paralyzed as well and all you can manage is a pitiful shake of your head. "I know your heart wasn't wholly mine," he says.
You close your eyes in shame. You can't face him, not even in your dreams. You shake your head again, willing him to go.
"And I know it too." Your eyes fly open as that familiarly accented voice echoes through the room. Chase's blue eyes meet yours earnestly and you crumple.
You wake suddenly and are disoriented. It takes you a moment to recognize your surroundings. You try to shake off the dream, but a familiar sense of guilt creeps into your mind. You are being ridiculous; there is no reason to feel guilty for this choice. You are free to move on, you always have been.
You have made no promises to Chase that you cannot keep. All you can promise him is the chance he asked for. The chance that House wouldn't give you. Maybe House can't move on, but you can. You will. You have.