Author's Note: Spoilers for 4x16 "Wilson's Heart" and some (to me unknown) upcoming episode of season 5, in which the team is assigned to a Huntington's patient. Also I don't really know the symtoms of this disease; I just wrote what I thought could be possible symptoms.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately I own nothing and nobody (can somebody please give me Olivia Wilde as a birthday present puppy look pretty please?)

„Thirteen..."

„Shh!"

With a short, clear sound the door to the supply closet falls shut and fills the small room with darkness. The quiet sound of muffled moans and sighs is the only thing that can be heard for a while. Then the noise of something heavy falling down from the top level of the overfilled shelf echos through the room, followed by the sound of a lot of small glassy things rolling over the floor. Shortly after the lights go on and illuminate the small room that is filled with shelfs and cupboards.

„Oww... damnit, the syringes... we should..."

„Sshhh!"

With my right hand I take the blonde girl's arm and pinn it over her head while pressing her body against the door. I really don't have the time or nerve to be caring about those damn syringes right now. With some expierently placed kisses I manage to bring the girl's thoughts back on track. I can't even remember her name. Mandy? No. I got to know her a few weeks back in the hospital's cafeteria. I think she's a nurse or something. We talked for a while before I asked her, if she maybe wanted to go for a drink after work. Well... we ended up in her bed. Very early the next day we agreed that it would probably be the best to just forget about the night – which is exactly what I want at the moment. I really don't need a relationship right now!

Ever since I saw those damn test results I've been a little self-destructiv. I've spent nearly all of my freetime in bars and clubs and always went home with another girl. I only came home to change and shower before leaving again and my meals consisted of some french fries between work and the nuts, that came along with the drinks at the bars and clubs.

With a quick move, the girl – Mary? – has our positions turned and now pinns me against one of the shelfs. Her hands traveles under my shirt and when she touches my overheated skin, I come back to reality. Frustrated I pull her face towards mine and kiss her fiercly before trying to open her blouse. I get even more frustrated when the buttons wouldn't open immediately and with a deep grunt I pull at the blouse, sending buttons all around us.

„Thirteen, is everything alright?"

Do I look alright? I ignore her question and instead concentrate on forgetting the reason why I was even here with... Monica? It isn't enough that I have come to work with a heavy migrane today - the result of yet another night out – and that House immediately caught up on that fact. No, I could have handled House. What really got to me was the patient we have got assigned to this morning. She is only 42 years old and can't move her legs and arms anymore. She has been diagnosed with Huntington's chorea eleven years ago; seven years ago it had started to show by causing uncontrollable spasms and later on numbness in arms and legs. I tried to ignore it, tried to concentrate on helping the woman, I really did! But I just can't handle it. This could be me lying there. It could be me not feeling my arms and legs and living my life in the shell of my own body.

The feeling of soft, but cold hands creeping their way up to my breasts bring me back to the here and now. My breath is heavy, but rather of frustration than of excitment. I came to this girl – Maria? – to forget about the patient, but it obviously hasn't been working at all.

It takes me a while to realise that her hands have stopped. It seems the girl – Meggy? – caught on to the fact that something isn't quite right.

„Thirteen.. what's up with you?"

„Shut up!"

I won't give up, I desperatly need some distraction, so I once again start to kiss the girl in front of me. My hands quickly find their way to her butt and I easily scoop her up on the counter. I place myself between her legs and continue kissing down her neck to her cleavage. I can hear her soft moans and desperatly try to enjoy our little encounter as much as she does, but instead I become angry. Why? Why must I've gotten that stupid gene? Why me? What have I ever done to deserve this? I don't want to end up like our patient...

At that moment the door to our little hiding place opens and a surprised head nurse stares at us. Quickly I take a step back and dart my eyes downwards trying to wish myself away. Away from this awkward situation, away from this patient, this hospital, away from this city.

„Melissa... we need you in exam room four. Now!"

Melissa! That was her name... now I remember. The head nurse sends another strange glare towards me before turning around and closing the door again. With a deep sigh I close my eyes and bring my hands to my neck. This is definitly not where I saw myself five years ago.

I think about saying something to Melissa; maybe I should explain myself. I carefully look at her and start to form some words, when my pager suddenly comes to life. Immediately I read its message, relieved that I don't have to explain myself. She wouldn't understand anyway. I turn around with an excusing smile and leave the storage room. Today I definitly need a drink after work. Maybe I should try this new club at Richmond Road, I hear they have women's night every Wednesday.