I've had enough requests, that I will do another Chirteen fic. I can't promise updates as fast as my previous one, because this fic will hopefully be much more detailed and in-depth. The first chapter is more of a prologue, so I hope the chapters will get longer. Dedicated to Noelle and Chase. Enjoy!
p.s.: Am I spelling Darrien right? Does she have a known last name? If so, please let me know and I'll change things. I wasn't sure.
Disclaimer: I don't own House MD or these characters.
Chapter One
Of all of the bars in Princeton, The Turn Around was probably the cleanest. Unfortunately for Remy, that was about all it had going for it. The owner liked things neat. In fact, he was rather well renowned for it, if his nickname of "The Cleaning Nazi" among his janitorial staff and other lesser peons he was forced to work with was anything to go by. It was located on the edge of town, nestled in the middle of a clump of trees on a dead-end road. The parking lot had once been a field and was still home to a rusted Dead End sign that was now bent at an angle; no one had gone out of their way to remove it.
"Another drink?" The bartender leaned against the bar, absently tapping his fingers against the polished wood. He was young, probably no older than twenty-three, the part time job college boy type. The sleeve of his white button-down shirt had a red wine stain on it and his black dress pants looked like they hadn't been ironed in over a century.
After a moment of staring into her empty shot glass, Remy glanced up. "Yeah," she answered with a slight smile. "Thanks…" She glanced at his nametag. "Thanks, Ryan."
He poured more Vodka into her glass then slipped the bottle back under the bar. "Enjoy." He winked at her then turned and walked away to wait on another lone customer.
It was only her second drink. Needless to say, she wasn't drunk even considering the hour she had been sitting there. It hadn't been a long day that she needed to drink to forget, just a night she didn't want to return home alone to her apartment. There were a lot of those. The bar was empty on a Wednesday night though, so she sat there staring at the flat screen TV that hung above a case of liquor bottles.
"And now for Top News at Eleven." The two news anchors sat side by side in blue and gray room with a large glass table in front of them. Their news reports lay neatly in front of them in manila folders and the male anchor held a sheet of paper.
Remy adjusted herself on the barstool and straightened out her light purple shirt under her suspenders. She gripped the shot glass between her fingers and absently swirled the alcohol around, careful not to spill it. Usually some kind of ballgame was playing, but it was late and heavy spring rainstorms across most of the US had washed out several of the latest sports games.
"A manhunt has begun in Princeton, New Jersey for an escaped prisoner," the male anchor stated.
"The woman broke out of her cell several hours ago, and News Anchor Rachel Brown is there now to give you the latest," the female continued before a screen on their wall lit up and yet another anchor stood with a microphone under a street lamp. "Now what can you tell us about this woman? Is she considered dangerous?"
"Well, Linda, the woman wasn't in jail for particularly violent offenses, but police have warned the public that she is thought to be armed and should not be approached," the on-scene anchor answered. "Darrien McCurdy escaped from the prison just a few hours ago." Darrien's mug shot appeared on the screen.
"Jesus," Remy whispered under her breath and shook her head. She took a sip from her glass then put it down and leaned forward with her forearms rested on the bar. She rubbed her face then dropped her hand back down and took another look at the photo, her stomach dropping a bit. After turning in the woman who was once her friend, she never found out how many years her new sentence had given her, but this would only increase the chances she'd never get out now.
"She was discovered missing nearly thirty minutes after her escape, during a routine attendance check. Police say she may have fled in a red late model Ford Falcon that was reported missing from a nearby area about an hour ago. A police hunt is now underway." The screen went from Darrien's face back to the anchor. "The commissioner Ted Fletcher has ordered an inquiry into the escape and a review of all other prisoners in the facility."
"Now, Rachel, this is the second jail breakout in Princeton this week," the male continued, but Remy didn't want to hear anymore. Forcing herself to tear her eyes away from the TV, she lifted her shot glass against her parted lips then tilted her head back. The liquor slid down her throat in a single swallow and she leaned forward and put the glass down again then dug around in her pockets for some cash.
"Leaving so soon?" Ryan asked, stepping back over. He took the money from her then handed her her change, after counting it twice to make sure he was giving her the right amount. "I could always change the channel to the good programs." The look on his face made it clear he knew how boring the place could get and that the TV wasn't doing much to help.
She managed a light laugh. "Thanks, but I need to get out of here," she replied, pushing her change back into her pocket. "Work in the morning," she explained. He was cute. Young and probably gay, but cute.
"Ah," was his only response and he sent the TV a slight glance before looking back again. "Drive home safe."
"You too." She stood from her seat and walked across the room, pushing the doors open then stepping out in the night air. It was a harsh but welcome change from the muggy air in the bar. After a brief inhale then exhale, she grabbed her keys and jingled them in her hand as she made her way to her car. The light from the bar barely illuminated the parking lot, so she hit the 'unlock' button just to see her headlights light up.
After managing to do a slight hop over a large puddle, she stopped by the driver's side door and lifted her keys. Her car key strategically had a green, plastic cover on it specifically for nights like this. It took less than a second to find and she held it between her fingers then gripped her door handle.
Out of nowhere, her body was shoved up against the door and her face smashed against the window. The keys dropped to the asphalt with a loud clatter. "What the -" Before Remy could continue, a hand covered her mouth and the barrel of a gun pressed hard against her temple. Her breath caught in her throat and she considered trying to turn around, but the click of the gun rooted her to her spot.
A face appeared in the reflection of the mirror as her attacker leaned forward to whisper a familiar voice in her ear.
"Now don't do anything stupid, Remy, or I will shoot you."
