Doctor Allison Cameron was frustrated. She had been working in the Princeton Plainsborough Teaching Hospital Emergency Room for over 6 months, and had generally enjoyed it. But slowly, day after day, patient by patient, she was getting bored. Cameron wanted to help people. That was why she had become a doctor in the first place, a philosophy that sometimes had gotten lost in the chaotic dynamics that surrounded the diagnostics department and it's almost sadistic leader. But making sure people were taken care of was what drove Allison to wake up every morning. To work for 18 hours in a row, get 4 hours of sleep, and then do it again. But she was getting bored of the monotony. Every day more patients with the same things; frantic mothers whose children had stomach aches, teenagers who sprained an ankle, men with cuts and bruises. The terrifying pressure and excitement of a bus wrecking on the highway soon became normal.
It was early one morning when it became blatant. Down in the ER, Cameron had been leaning against the nurses desk and decided a large, steaming cup of coffee had her name of it and started walking down the hallway at a leisurely pace, enjoying the feeling of not having to worry about anything particularly life changing. A feeling she consciously noted she never had time to experience while employed under Gregory House. The ER was empty and her mind drifted to the groceries she needed for her night's dinner. Suddenly, she jumped as her tranquil train of thought was shattered as an entire crash cart literally crashed into a wall in front of her, clipping her on the hip and sending her sprawling to the ground.
Just as she collected her thoughts to wonder what had just happened, the answer rounded the corner.
"Oh goodness. Excuse me, random ER attendant, I didn't mean to... Oh! Doctor Cameron! That's so strange..." and turning as best he could on his heel, House limped away down the opposite corridor, leaving Cameron on the ground, open mouthed, holding her hip, staring after him.
Then, another sound could be heard. A much softer, gentler sort of murmur, still dry, but all the more pleasant to hear. "Good God, what kind of person does this?"
Allison twisted her head to meet the most breath taking set of eyes she'd ever seen. Steel gray, but soft blue and radiant green all in one. The eyes extended a slender hand to help the fallen doctor.
"House. That's the kind of person she does this." Noticing the lab coat Cameron added, "You'll get used to it."
"I'm not so sure about that. Earlier today, he fired an intern for only being a B cup." the woman said, "If I do survive, I'm not sure I'll want to."
Cameron nodded and straightened. As she did so, her side gave her a throbbing kick and sent her body into a spasm. The taller doctor automatically insisted that she take a look, just to be safe. Reluctantly, Cameron agreed. Taking the bumper carting crash cart, the brunette took out the necessary equipment. Trying to reduce the amount of awkwardness, the blonde started talking.
"My name's Allison Cameron, by the way. I used to work for House. I don't think I caught your name?"
"You can just call me Thirteen. Everyone else seems to think it fits." she said, gesturing the assigned number pinned underneath her lab coat and giving Cameron a slight smile.
Seeing the smile for the offer of friendship that it was, Cameron relaxed and laughed. They fell into a comfortable silence as Thirteen finished working.
"Alright that should about do it," Thirteen said. "Provided you don't plan on doing any construction work or dodging bullets, I think you have an excellent chance of survival."
Laughing out loud, Cameron thanked her and started back to the ER, her mind buzzing with the encounter she had just had with the beautiful young doctor. Why didn't she tell Cameron her real name? What was House's game? And why was she so fascinated by her?