Loved and Lost - By Liz
He was right. Of course he was. He was always right.
All this time, she had spent her days chasing him, hoping, dreaming, wishing. She imagined a life with him, a life together. She never saw it any other way, and deep down, something told her she never would. She loved him. That would never change. He would always drown her heart with love, with hope, with joy, with sorrow. He had given her the best days of her life, and the worst. He had given her his love, but only to take it away.
He was right. Of course he was. He was always right.
He had spent his life running from her, from the world. He had spent his life running from all pain, all good, everything. Nothing mattered to him, nothing. Nothing but her. And now, now she was gone. How could he have devestated her in such a way? How could he have hurt her so badly? He gave her his whole heart, and he would never get it back. He loved her; he always would. But who was he to say what love was? He had spent his life rejecting emotion, and now he knows love, the deepest emotion of them all? He was right. He couldn't love her... but he did.
What was love?
She sat on her couch pondering the vey question. Memories of her late husband swam through her mind as thoughts of House filled her head. If it was possible to love more than one person in a lifetime, then what was the meaning of the term "the one"? Who was her "one"? Who would she grow old with? Who would she share her dreams and desires with? Who would she give her life to, in hopes that they would do the same? How could she give her love to someone else? Her dreams, her hopes, her love... were for him.
What was love?
As he downed two more vicodin, as he sipped some more scotch, he layed back in his couch deep in thought. Thoughts of Stacy filled his mind, but they always drifted back to Cameron. If it was possible to love more than one person, then there was no such thing as "the one". He wasn't Stacy's "one". But if he wasn't Stacy's soul mate, was he Cameron's? Were they meant to be? Or were they just another tragedy waiting to happen? Would history repeat itself? It always did. Two more vicodin. One more sip. He couldn't love. He couldn't feel... but he did. He wanted to.
Why did he leave? Why was he gone?
Tears trickled down her face as she prepared herself for bed. An empty bed. It seemed much larger now that he was gone. He was gone. Why was he gone? She had only hoped that they could work things out... find a way. But no, he pushed her, he refused. He couldn't love... but he could. She knew he could. She only wished that he could realize that himself. Then things would be much simpler. Things would be right... but things were never right, not with him.
Why had he left? Why was she gone?
He contimplated the questions over and over. He couldn't love her, but he wanted to so much. He knew if he ever loved someone again it would only lead to hurt, and he couldn't do that to her. No, he could never hurt her. But what was he doing? What was he doing now? He had already hurt her. He had left her. He was gone. He'd abandoned her and left her alone, heart-broken, devestated. No amount of pills or alcohol could drown the sorrow that filled his heart, but he only wished it could.
Would he ever be back?
As her eyelids fluttered, as tears slid down, there was a knock at the door. She didn't want to see anyone but him. But he would never come back. Never. He would never accept her, or himself for that matter. She'd done her best to help him accept himself, but it only made things worse. Things would never be the same again. She was wrong to ever start a relationship with him. He had been right. Everyone had been right. She'd started a relationship that would only lead to hurt.
Should he go back?
He knocked on her door in desperation. He wanted to see her so bad, but there was no way she would talk to him now. He'd left her. He'd hurt her. Still, he wanted her. What had he done? He knocked persistently with his cane on the door in hopes that she would know it was him. He wanted to see her sparkling green eyes, her cascading brown hair, her creamy white skin. He wanted to see her more than anything in the world.
It was him.
He was at the door. It was his knock that echoed through her halls, and in desperation, she arose from the bed. She wanted nothing but to see his gruff face, his light brown hair, his icy blue eyes. She wanted nothing but to see him, to have him. She answered the door and got her wish. It was him.
It was her.
There she was. In all her beauty, she stood there. Her face was tear-stained, of course. Knowing he was the cause of those tears had broken his heart for the one hundredth time. He wanted nothing but to hold her, to love her. Maybe... maybe if he tried, he could.
Things would never be the same again, never. But neither could help but hope.
Fin