Thirteen took a steadying breath before she walked into House's office. It was late and she had no idea why he was there, but she didn't care. Rubbing her tongue against the inside of her swollen cheek, she winced slightly. She shook any hesitancy from her mind and stepped into the last place she ever thought she would turn under these circumstances.
House studied Thirteen curiously. She looked sullen and hostile. It wasn't much different from how she had looked that afternoon, except for the bruise that was already forming along her left jaw. "I always knew you liked to play rough," House announced, pulling his glasses from his face. "Fighting over who got to be on top again?"
"Yeah that's it," she said blandly. Like Cuddy, she was one of the few people that realized going along with House's antics was one of the fastest ways to get what she wanted. "Grab your 'script pad doc, I got a list for you." She tossed the scrap of paper she had been holding onto his desk.
House sat silently staring at the younger doctor. She didn't back down. She just waited, watching him with a confidence he could respect. Putting his glasses back on, he glanced over the list of medicines. He had suspected as much, but the medicines she had written confirmed that she had been raped.
Thirteen let her shoulders relax as House silently began to write. She hadn't been positive, but out of all the doctors she knew, he had been the one she had believed would make the least amount of fuss over things. The team would ask questions. Cuddy would recommend therapy. Wilson would escort her to the police. Cameron would probably want to move in. There was no easy answer. Everyone cared too much.
Then there was House, House, who didn't care about anyone. If he wanted to keep that image, she knew he wouldn't allow himself to react. He would have to be indifferent. Anything except doing exactly what she needed would prove he cared. It was a risk, but he hadn't let her down.
House wrote out prescriptions for the medicine she had listed and added a painkiller and something for sleep as well. She had given herself the bare minimum. Mixing the one's he wrote in between the one's she'd requested, he handed the stack of paper's back to her.
She reached for them, but he didn't let go. Looking up at him questioningly, she waited for some sort of response.
"You okay?" he asked, with a sincerity that nearly floored her. It wasn't a change in his voice; he sounded as indifferent as ever, but there was an intensity in his eyes that screamed the truth.
"I'm fine," she said, swallowing hard. Running a hand through her hair, Thirteen nodded her thanks and left.