They drive for awhile, and she wants to trust him, but eventually the curiosity kicks in. "Where are we going?" She says, watching him drive. His eyes are steady on the road, his facial expression blank. His hands remain in position on the wheel. He likes driving, it makes him forget that he's a cripple and not capable of doing much else. But her question, such a simple request, reminds him that he has a duty. She would get better, and he would be there through it all.
"Away. Back in time." He answers calmly, and her eyes seem to glitter. She's even more interested now. His ability to be comforting actually amazes her. People don't think of him as a gentle person, but right now that's the only thing he is.
Every time she sees an exit, she wonders if that will be theirs. She looks at all the information signs, wondering if its relevant to where they are going. She tries to watch his face, see if he is searching for anything, but he seems to know exactly where he is going.
It takes about an hour to get to their destination. The car ride was mostly quiet, their thoughts not capable of being words yet. The radio fills in for their silence, humming a tune all it's own. But soon, he takes a right and they have arrived.
It's Saturday afternoon, and the place is busy. Parents push strollers full of children, birds chirp loudly, and the sun beats down on every back.
"It's the zoo." Cameron whispers as he finds a parking place.
"It's the zoo." He confirms.
"I haven't been here since I was a kid." She clambers out of the car quickly, more excited than a kid in a candy store. He tries to match her energy, limping quickly. His cane clicks softly against the concrete with every step he takes.
They make their way past the entrance with the sweat already rolling down the backs of their necks from the hot sun.
Colorful balloons float from every fence, the sticky hands of toddlers feed baby goats, babies cry, hearts beat, blood races. It never changes, no matter how old you get. People walk through the zoo, mostly children and world moves around them and they can't see any of it. Cameron sees the animals the same way she did when she was a child, and House sees her.
They watch the seals, jumping up at catching fish from the workers' hands. It makes her smile, but the best part, for her, was seeing the giraffes.
"They've always been my favorite." She tells him. "I wished I could be as tall as them, see over everyone, never get hurt." Her voice is wishful, but not pitiful. He liked that about her. What she said was honest and relevant, but never for attention or so anyone would feel bad for her. She said it because it mattered, because it made her feel something.
The feeling she has now is so different from the sick regret she had last night. It's as if last night doesn't exist here, in this place with him.
She reaches over for his hand.
He feels her take it, brushing her thumb lightly over his skin. He looks over at her, surprised and curious.
Standing there, up on the balcony, face-to-face with giraffes, House felt his stomach flip. The feeling of Allison Cameron holding his hand was making the world feel like a roller coaster. It didn't make any sense to him. He considers dropping her hand, but he looks over.
The look she gives him is so indescribably sad and vulnerable. She's worried he will let her down.
"I won't let go." He promises, nearly whispering the words. her face lights up and she squeezes his hand just a little. To her, this is healing and this is where her relationship with him starts.
They keep walking, they buy Popsicles, they see the elephants. He doesn't break his promise.
Afterwards, they go to the grocery store-one that doesn't smell like divorced-old-lady-perfume- and shop together like a newlywed couple. He isn't sure exactly what "this" is or what it means, but she's Cameron and he thinks that maybe this is love.
She leans her forearms against the handle of the cart, strolling easily through the aisles. She picks out the things he never did- green peppers, loaves of French bread, boxes of pasta. It makes him realize how little he eats at home. When he does, it's usually just peanut butter sandwiches or frozen dinners. He liked that Cameron was planning on cooking dinner for him. It meant that she planned on staying just a little bit longer.
They carry the bags of food out to the car. The sky has gotten dark and the florescent sign outside the store now shines brightly. The radio plays soft, slow songs for the ride home. She sings under her breath, letting her head rock with the motions of the vehicle. His heart beats fast again, and he makes himself focus on driving. It's hard to make himself look away from her, she's so distracting in such a subtle way.
He helps her put the groceries away, but neither feel like cooking dinner tonight so she grabs two spoons and they take the tub of mint chip ice cream back to the couch. They turn on whatever, not caring what they watch, and balance the ice cream between them. It's quiet - they're both exhausted -but that's okay. Being sleepy and eating ice cream doesn't need commentary. To top everything off, her hand finds his again.
This is perfect. This is everything. All he needs and wants for the rest of his life starts with ice cream and Netflix and Cameron.
Because when the ice cream runs out and they are too tired to keep their eyes open, it's his chest that she falls asleep against.
