A/N: I felt like taking a break from humor and writing angst. Enough said.

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters. Which, frankly, makes me angry, because if I owned it, I'd know Hugh Laurie, Kal Penn, and Robert Sean Leonard, among other people. Also, the title is based off the RENT song Your Eyes, which was written by Jonathan Larson. I'd recommend listening to it while you read.

Summary: He was supposed to outlive her. KutnerThirteen drabble, angst, character death

.:X:.
your eyes
.:X:.

Death is a scary thing. It can sneak up on you without warning, or it can creep up slowly, and you're always aware of it.

Remy Hadley knew she was going to die soon. She'd known it for a while now. There wasn't a cure for what she had. And anyways, she was a doctor; death was expected. Or, at least, it was expected in the patients who didn't have a chance.

"There was a car crash," Taub said quietly, not looking into her eyes, instead staring down at the clipboard. "Down on the parkway."

"Who's doing the surgery?"

"Chase."

The team couldn't take the case; they were diagnostics. Cameron had taken the case instead, and the Australian surgeon had responded without fault.

"He's unresponsive," Chase said, brushing some blonde hair out his eyes. There was still blood on his scrubs. "I don't know if there's anything more we can do." He was acting like any other surgeon would; he'd probably failed, and that was hurting. He patted her once on the shoulder and walked away to go change his scrubs and fill out the paperwork.

Wilson and Cameron knew how to deal with this. Both had lost people important to them, and now she was going to be a part of that. Thirteen didn't really know if she was strong enough. She probably wasn't. At least, that's what House would say.

Now Thirteen sat on the edge of the bed, wringing her hands just for something to do. The beep of the monitor was deafening in her ears as she watched his chest rise and fall, rise and fall, over and over again. No more than that. She stared at his closed eyes, willing them to open again.

She pressed her lips gently against his, feeling a tear run down her cheek. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to outlive her. Kutner was supposed to move on after she'd died. He was supposed to find someone else, so neither one of them would die alone. That's what she told him.

"There will never be someone else," he'd said quietly, holding her face in his hands, brown eyes bright. "There will be another person, maybe, but there will never be someone else."

Now he was on the hospital bed dying, unaware of the world around him, almost dead already. That was her fate, that was how she was supposed to die. He was supposed to die in his bed with his wife years from now, when all his children were long grown up, had children of their own.

Not here.

Every time she pictured her death, Kutner was always sitting on the edge of the bed, just as she was now. He was always there. Not just in her dreams, either. He'd always been there for her. Maybe she was just too stupid at the time to realize it.

"Are you okay?"

How many times had he asked her that since they first met? The quiet worry was always there; always lingering just beyond the surface.

He opened his eyes. Even now they still held the spark of life. Her chest suddenly hurt. The warm brown met the aquamarine, something was exchanged, and then they closed again.

The nurses all rushed in when his heart rate suddenly slowed, but House stood there, watching Thirteen back away without a word. There was no expression on his face, or hers.

House limped away just as a rather loud, monotone, beeping sound rang through the ICU.

.:X:.
end
.:X:.

A/N: As for the end, it's up to you exactly what happened. But yes, he did die. And it pained me so to write it. Because I love Kutner. I really do. And his lack of screen time is really starting to get to me.

Reviews are lovely.