A/N: I own nothing. Characters belong to FOX and the song belongs to matchbox twenty. The song works as a timeline for thirteen's life. Starting with her as a child to college to after medschool to present.
All day Staring at the ceiling
Making friends with shadows on my wall
All night Hearing voices telling me
That I should get some sleep
Because tomorrow might be good for something
Young Remy Hadley lay down on her bed staring into space. It was the sixth anniversary of her mother's death, but the day was like any other for her. She didn't feel remorse, she didn't feel sad, and the only emotion she could muster was anger. Every year her father would take her to her mother's grave, to lay flowers on the grave but Remy couldn't have cared less. She could never sleep on this night, so usually didn't sleep much anyways but it was always on this day where she had the most difficulty.
Hold on I'm feeling like I'm headed for a
Breakdown and I don't know why
Every year she heard him walk around the apartment mumbling something about needing to tell her. Needing to tell her what? What was so important that he paced about the house so? It was like a ticking time bomb; she was just waiting for the let down, and her father confirmed her theory when he called her out to the kitchen.
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know, right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
"Is everything okay Dad?" she asked as she walked into the kitchen. She looked over at clock it was already two in the morning.
"I should have told you this as soon as your mother was diagnosed." He said pinching the bridge of his nose with the hand that wasn't holding the bottle of beer.
"Tell me what?" Remy could feel her heart beat so hard it felt like it was ready to jump out of her chest and land on the kitchen floor. He motioned for her to sit down at the table.
"Huntington's, the disease she died from; Rem it's genetic, and you have a fifty percent chance of contracting it." He looked so ashamed at what he had just told her. He wouldn't look her in the face; he mumbled a goodnight and walked off in the direction of his bedroom.
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know, right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be
Remy had a wave of emotions going through her all at once. She looked up from the table and saw her father walking off to bed. "Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice was strained and slightly high-pitched. He looked back on his teenage daughter
"I'm sorry." When she arrived at medical school, she could feel everyone's eyes on her as she walked around in a gloomy silence
Me Talking to myself in public
Dodging glances on the train and
I know I know they've all been talking 'bout me
I can hear them whisper
The first year at medical school was the worst. She had let her paranoia get the best of her on more than one occasion, isolating herself from everyone. She knew they talked about her, she could see them stare, but she didn't care, at least that's what she told everyone. She was known around campus as Jane Doe, because of all the secrets.
And it makes me think there must be something wrong With me
Out of all the hours thinking Somehow
I've lost my mind
Every time someone stared, it gave her another reason for her to believe the Huntington's had started to take effect. On one occasion she could feel everyone stare at her, even the professors; unable to bear it she ran to the nearest ladies room to inspect her body; make sure she wasn't shaking and had somehow missed it. She gave a cry of relief when she realized it was nothing more than her period.
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know, right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
Everyone knew her as the quiet girl, the girl who spoke only when spoken to, and the girl who had such a big secret not even the professors knew what it was. But every once in a while Remy would sneak out of her dorm on weeknights and go to a bar, she would dress up in the most provocative clothing she could find. No one ever found out, but every night she wished someone would find her like this, so they knew she wasn't a complete freak.
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be
Her father came to visit once a month; he had nothing better to do. He would look around the dorm with the saddest expression on his face. "What happened to you?" He would ask. Her room back at home was all shades of blue and green and purple, covered by various posters and pictures. But the dorm here was nothing but gray with gray and a side of dull.
"I grew up." Was her answer every time. She had changed; she never smiled except for when her father came to visit. She stopped painting to become a doctor, and had dyed her hair from blonde to brown, she had cut off every connection to home, but what was the most noticeable was her face: the sparkle in her eyes, the softness of her skin, and the kindness in her heart. She had turned from a sweet young girl to a cold secluded woman, and her father blamed himself for all of it.
I been talking in my sleep
Pretty soon they'll come to get me
Yeah, they're taking me away
"Remy, wake up." The voice shook her awake. She sat up hastily covered in a layer of sweat. "Are you okay?" Her lover asked again touching her forehead.
"Yeah, just another nightmare." She said trying to get her breathing back to normal. As she laid back down.
"You were doing it again." Remy looked over at the young woman next to her. "Something about 'not going.'" The girl smiled at Remy "don't worry." She said kissing the nape of Remy's neck "I won't let them take you away from me." Remy closed her eyes in pleasure and returned the kiss, long and deep. Remy hoped she meant what she said.
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know, right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
"You should go back to sleep, it's late." Foreman said to Thirteen as he walked out into the living room.
"It's her anniversary." Was all she said "and mine." He looked at her incredulously "My mom died today twenty years ago. I died fifteen years ago." She refused to look at his face, but he could hear the tears stream down her face. "Fifteen years ago I learned about my death sentence." She rested her forehead in the palm of her hand as she tried to prevent the sobs from becoming audible. Foreman walked over to Thirteen and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. It was rare he saw this side of her, the side that wasn't just an empty shell, the side that was vulnerable.
I'm not crazy I'm just a little impaired
I know, right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be
The next day at work she was just as cold and cynical as House if not more. The differential took twice as long as it usually did and all Foreman could think about was the young vulnerable girl who was crying in the middle of the night. She attacked everyone's theories relentlessly insisting that her idea was the only diagnosis that fit the symptoms. "Everyone shut up." House demanded "Go run the damn biopsy." Foreman followed Thirteen on the way to the patient's room.
"Are you okay?" Foreman asked as he caught up with the young doctor
She turned to face him "I'm fine." Her face was void of all emotion "Last night, never happened." And she turned on her heel to run the biopsy as she put her shield back on.
Hey, how I used to be
How I used to be, yeah
Well I'm just a little unwell
It was her anniversary and as he had every year before on this day he went to visit her and lay a rose on her grave. Remy Hadley Foreman. 1980-2029. Friend, Doctor, and Lover. Every time he thought of her, it was never the doctor who hid herself in a thick shield surrounded by a cone of isolation. He thought of the young woman whose smile would light up his darkest day and the laugh that would instantly fill him up. She got her wish; she had accomplished everything she wanted to. She found an everlasting love and because of that she had found happiness; something she had not had for a long time. She had lived a full life, a fuller life than what most people would have. She was never sick; she was just a little unwell.