An Awfully Big Adventure
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A/N: This is a departure from my usual style and content. The female character is not named. In my head she is always Cameron, but you may substitute whomever you will.
WARNING: This is a romanticized tragedy. Character death is involved! You have been warned.
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Unnecessary disclaimer: None of the characters appearing in the TV show "House, M. D." belong to me.
Abstract: When all they have left is old age and tarnished dreams, only then can they take to the road.
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Neither of them had expected it to come to this.
Half the hospital was in attendance, not bad for the retirement party of the hospital's most hated misanthrope.
Most had assumed he would just continue to practice medicine until he keeled over and died, but that was not the case.
He was still the best diagnostician this side of the Atlantic, but he didn't care. He wasn't what he used to be, and that was all that mattered.
He had always known when to bow out.
And so, they were here, at a party to celebrate a milestone that he never wanted to reach.
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She continued working. No surprise, as she was much younger than he.
But she saw in the dark hours how he would pace with his cane (inevitably slower now than in years past) and stare out the window or into space. He was lost.
"One day you're going to come home from work and find me gone," he would often say.
"Just wait a little longer," she would respond, a comforting hand on his arm.
"I'm trying," would be his labored answer.
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They spent their evenings together in the library. He looked up from his book one evening to speak.
"Years ago, there was an elderly couple that left home one day without telling anyone. They were never found."
He raised his book and continued to read, as if the weight of his words were nothing at all. She could not be so cavalier.
Her eyes held fear. "Wait for me," she pleaded.
"How long?" he asked.
She had no answer, and her fear would not abate.
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Two years later found her at her own retirement party. Nearly the entire hospital was in attendance. No surprise for the hospital's most beloved doctor.
He did not attend.
When she returned home, feeling empty, she found him.
Suitcase in hand, he led her to the bedroom where one was laid out for her.
"Pack light," he said.
She was at a loss. What do you take when you will never be home again? What memories are most sacred and what can you leave behind?
The framed wedding picture was carefully wrapped in a sweater.
"You won't need a sweater where we're going," he said.
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It was a morbid kind of hope.
When the car was loaded, they stopped and looked at each other. They knew how this would end.
Exquisite freedom, youthful exuberance, and then loss.
No words were exchanged; they found they needed fewer words than they used to.
The rumble of the car's engine sounded like thunder as they began their adventure.
"Where are we headed?" she asked.
"Away," he said.
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They made love, like teenagers on prom night, in a sleazy motel room, and it felt like romance.
They rode with the wind, following their fancy wherever it would take them. They relived youth like they had never known it.
The time he insisted driving through the night, she should have known.
At the dimly lit gas station he had held her hand tight. Before he started the car he spoke, "I love you, you know."
They were driving through the steep hills of the Ozarks when it happened. Old age has its vices.
Freefall felt like flying.
The car was crushed at the bottom of the ravine. He never woke.
She spoke only once, a frail hand reaching out before sleep overtook her. "House…" she whispered.
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A/N: Any guesses as to where the title came from, and the inspiration for the story? Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.
The story of the older couple that left home and were never found is true. If you're intrigued and want to hear more, shoot me a message.