Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Yes...I wrote something. I'm sure none of you were expecting that. A huge thank you to my sources of inspiration: the movie Up, which all of you should see if you haven't; the song Angel by Sarah McLachlan, and the song I Giorni by Ludovico Einaudi. Of course, a tremendous thank you to Pandorama, who stepped up to beta this oneshot for me. Your sharp eye and knack for characterization really saved me on this one! Thank you for not upchucking at the pairing.

Dedication: To the lovely Melissa, as a belated 18th birthday present. You have been my wonderful beta for such a long time; I owe you so much for each story I have up on this website, now you can have one of your own! Thanks for everything and I hope that you enjoy this oneshot.


Books and clothes filled the tiny suitcase, photographs and empty albums littering the floor all around her. Memories stared up at her from their still frames, the emotions of happiness and contentment forever frozen upon the faces of their occupants. Slowly, methodically, they were lowered onto folded clothes, tucked gently into the piles of blouses and pants to protect their fragile glass. The floor and bones alike creaked as she moved from one end of the room to the other, retrieving various items to add to the small collection of keepsakes worth taking with her. It was amazing how much junk had managed to earn a place on the forgotten shelves of the closet.

"What about this?" he asked her as she emerged from the bathroom, clutching various toiletries. He was holding a picture taken nearly twenty –five years ago. It featured an older groom and a much younger bridge, but the joy captured on both of their faces was the same. The picture had been given a place of honor in their bedroom; she had not yet removed it.

She took the frame from him with a smile. "Of course this," she answered. "You really think I'd leave this behind?"

"No," he answered her seriously. They both knew she would never leave such a treasure alone to collect dust for years to come. It was something he might have done, but certainly not her. She had a way of holding onto the past, of taking it with her as she continued to move toward the future. It was why her suitcase was full of at least as many trinkets as it was of clothes and other necessities.

"Not going to take those, are you?" he asked, gesturing toward a large collection of medical books that she recognized as having belonged to him. Titles of nephrology and infectious diseases stared back at her; next to them, she noted her own collection of books, a much smaller compilation of works on auto-immune diseases. She shook her head.

"Now why would I need those?" she asked, the ghost of a laugh playing on her lips. "You don't think we'll need to treat anyone where we're going, do you?"

"No," he replied, his voice revealing the slightest hint of sadness. "No, I don't think you will."

She smiled back at him and continued adding her toiletries to the suitcase. As she packed, she became aware of his eyes on her. His own things remained in the corner, untouched. She wished he would hurry; didn't he know they were coming soon?

"What about your things?" she asked, turning around to face him again. "Don't you have anything you want to bring along?"

He shook his head. "No. I've already packed."

"Typical of you," she intoned, "to just throw your things in all at once."

"Typical of you," he replied, "to be so much slower. Too much time fixing your hair and not enough time making progress. That's how I got so far ahead of you."

She surveyed her long hair, held back in a simple clasp, in the mirror. "Maybe you're right," she said. "You never were a patient one. It was only to be expected that you would go first."

"You knew that when you married me," he said gently. "I would always be so much further ahead. What's that saying? Age before beauty or something like that?" He looked at her seriously. "Now you have both."

She nodded vaguely; she knew it was true. She had stopped dyeing her hair blond years ago, but now the dark brown was almost entirely white. Her face was lined with age and wisdom and her once hurried steps were now careful and deliberate. She had grown even thinner, loose skin hanging from her bones. She was not fussed about her appearance. They had grown old together, or rather, he had always been old and she had simply been playing catch up.

He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and tilted her chin up so that her eyes met his. His sapphire gaze was as piercing as ever. He considered her for a few moments, but she never moved. She closed her eyes and waited for him to speak.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked quietly, one brow hitched with concern. "It's no Spring Break in Cancun."

She opened her eyes and stared at him. "Of course I'm sure. I'm sure it will be fine. I have been thinking about this for a long time, and I'm sure that I'm up for it. Besides," she added, cracking a playful smile at him, "you will be with me."

He nodded vaguely, his eyes not quite meeting hers this time. "Of course," he muttered, running his fingers through her long hair. "It comes with the territory."

She closed her eyes again and leaned into him, savoring his scent. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to her hair.

"Will you always be with me?" she murmured, her face pressed against his neck. "Even after you…"

"I'm here now, aren't I? I had many years to walk – limp – away, but it seems you just couldn't get rid of me."

She pulled away. "That's not what I meant," she said, looking up at him again. "Promise me…promise me you will never leave me alone. Promise me that even if I get sick and try to push you away that you will push me harder to let you stay, and promise me that if I ever succeed in making you go away that you come back immediately. Promise me that I will never have to live without you. That you will be here even when you're not, and that you will always find a way back to me when you are lost."

He gazed at her for a long time in silence, but her gaze never wavered from his piercing blue eyes. Even age hadn't managed to dull their color. "I promise," he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead.

There was a sudden knock on the door and he broke apart from her. She turned around and slowly walked down the stairs to the front door. She pulled it open to reveal two young men, both dressed in the same uniform: light green scrubs. She imagined they had protested against the floral print scrubs that the females wore in the brochure; she suppressed a laugh at what House might have said about that.

"Allison Cameron?" the one nearest her asked, looking up from his clipboard.

"Yes," she answered tentatively.

"Great," he said. "I'm Rob and this is John. We're here to take you to the center. Do you have all your things ready?"

She nodded. "It's just upstairs."

"Great," he said again. "We'll go get that for you. You can wait for us here, or feel free to walk around and say your – erm – good-byes."

She waited until both Rob and John had disappeared upstairs before turning and whispering, "Good-bye, House."

But the ghost was gone.


A/N: Please review, I would love to know what you thought. As for my current projects, I have not completely abandoned Under the Same Moon, but my muse has decided to hide from me. Please bear with me as I find it again, but don't expect an update on that story anytime soon. I am currently planning another chapter-fic inspired by a movie (the exact one to be revealed later) that I only know one thing about for sure: it will have a Latin title. I currently have a list of Latin titles to choose from, but I am leaning toward Aegri Somnia or A Posteriori. If my muse obeys me, you can expect to see this story soon.