Sooo, here's a new story. Corona hasn't exactly kept me busy. I'm not as excited about it as I was about The Promised Land, or as committed to it. So I'm not promising regular updates or even that I'll finish it. Kinda depends on your reactions to it as well, so let me know if you like it.

Chapter 1

He had manhandled her today.

The thought has been on his mind since he arrived home. Another broken promise—one he had made to himself a long time ago. Back when he had been both the victim of and the witness to physical violence. He had sworn to himself he would never use his male body strength as a weapon or a tool against anyone physically inferior to him.

He had crossed that line. And it makes him feel like scum. Another addition to the long list of things he hates himself for.

He knows that the vast amounts of Vicodin he has been taking had a part in his loss of control. Not just in the situation with Cuddy, but also in the hospital room of his latest patient.

Wilson was right: Something has to change.

There is a knock on his door. He hasn't come to a conclusion thus far, which makes him reluctant to open up. Thinking about the act of standing up also reminds him of the pain in his leg. Since his attack on Cuddy he hasn't taken a pill, and the effect is wearing off. He reaches for his pill bottle and takes one, aware that the nagging on the other side of his door won't subside anytime soon.

That's when his phone rings.

He stands and opens the door, answers Wilson's questions dismissively, and goes to retrieve the brush. He knew exactly where it was when Cuddy asked for it during lunch. He had kept it in his bathroom on purpose, although he is not sure why. Nolan would probably have an answer for him. Maybe because it reminded him of a good, albeit short, time period in his life. Maybe it allows him to pretend she was only gone for a while. That there was still a chance she might come back to him.

This much he knows: He needs to apologize to Cuddy. The brush is only an excuse to drive by.

When he stands on her lawn and sees her touching another guy, all his suppressed hopes rush to the surface and are ultimately shattered. She is moving on. Just like that.

He gets into the back seat instead of behind the wheel, dropping his cane and the brush to the floor.

"What just happened?" Wilson turns around to look at him.

House shakes his head and moves to lie down on his back, throwing his arm across his eyes. "Just drive."

Wilson humors him and switches into the driver's seat, pulling away from the curb. Unable to go against his nature, however, he continues pestering him. "Did you see her? Was she home?"

House swallows against the lump that has taken up residence in his throat. "Yeah." For the first time, he lets the realization that she left him—not for good, but for better—hit him. Right in the gut. "She wasn't alone."

"Oh." Wilson is silent for a while. "You sure it was…?"

"Yeah."

And then there's a lot of silence. Silence in which he cries quietly, tears flowing from the corners of his eyes down his temples, wetting his hair and his ears. He had trusted her. In a way he had never trusted anyone in his life. He had allowed himself to need her and to depend on her. He had shown her sides of him he had protected from everyone else at all costs. She had been his home, and his love for her was endless.

He has no idea how to ever move past his hurt.

Wilson doesn't stop at the Sawmill. In fact, he keeps on driving and driving, and House is grateful for that. They are headed east, and eventually they end up at the beach.

The beach is fenced off. This is the only place in the world House knows of where they make people pay an entrance fee to enjoy the sea and the sand. Since it would be too difficult for House to walk on the sand anyways, they simply sit on a bench and look across the water from afar.

It feels good to see the ocean. The tireless washing of waves against the shore. Constant, vast, and uncaring.

"I'm gonna quit." This is the solution he has come up with during the ride. It's the change he needs. He is certain of it now.

Wilson stares at him in shock.

"I can't stand to see her." House shakes his head in resignation. "It makes me wanna down half a bottle of pills. Sometimes all." He remembers how awful he had felt watching her with Lucas. It would be ten times worse now—now that he had gotten a taste of his definition of paradise and having been abandoned from it.

"What are you planning on doing instead?"

House shrugs. "I don't know." All he knows is that if he goes on the way that he has, he is either going to destroy himself or he is going to destroy her. "Let's have dinner."

They eat at a small diner before they head back to Princeton.

It's already after 10pm when they exit the highway, but she is usually up late, and he doesn't actually care. His decision is final, and somehow he feels compelled to tell her in person. "Stop by Cuddy's," he instructs Wilson.