You've Got a Friend in Me

Story Title: You've Got a Friend in Me

Story Summary: "When the road looks rough ahead, and you're miles and miles from your nice, warm bed, you just remember what your old pal said, girl, you've got a friend in me". Possible/Eventual Camteen.

Genre: Friendship/Hurt/Comfort

Chapter Focus: #152 of 1000 Theme Challenge, "Count the Stars"

Chapter Rating: T

Word Count: 1890+

POV/Person: Second person. Thirteen is "you".

Spoilers: For Season Five

Author's Starting Notes: In the last one, Cameron realizes that mentioning Thirteen's disease isn't exactly the best choice of sorts. In this one, Thirteen finds some boundaries that Cameron has. This one is off the prompt "Count the Stars", and gives a bit of insight into Thirteen's past, as far as "Lucky Thirteen" is concerned. The next one ups the spoiler count though. I'd like to thank those who reviewed the first theme in this section, and would like to prompt the rest of you reading to do the same.

If you like Thirteen, check out Hadley_fest. Claiming starts the 21st and prompt suggestions end the 12th.

And, check out my other themed work.

Time Stamp: Posted 9th of February 2009

II: You Got... Memories From Me

"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars." - Oscar Wilde, 1892

It is an age-old tradition from when you were four. You remember, your mother would take you outside, on the back porch, and you two would sit there and count the stars littering the sky. You would start with the first one you saw and make a wish, always the same one. Your mother would ask you what you wished for. In response, you always gave her that cute little kid smile and told her that it would not come true if you shared it with anyone. One time, you guys were sitting out there, and she had just started crying. You did not even notice until her star count was off. You looked over to her and found her shaking uncontrollably with tears running down her face. Her hands were out in front of her, trembling violently in a way that looked too unnatural to have to do with her tears. That was the day you really realized something was seriously wrong with your mother. That was the last time your mother ever counted the stars with you. That was over ten years ago.

You stand out on the balcony outside House's office, breathing deeply and staring above you. There are plenty of stars, but you cannot bring yourself to pay that much attention. Your mind is still full of thoughts of dead parents and positive test results. So full, that you do not notice the door open, or hear the feet coming near you. It is only when you hear a soft sigh from next to you that you realize you are not alone.

You snap 'round quickly to the person intruding on your private moment. Your face morphs into a frown as you note just who is out here this evening.

Why is she suddenly everywhere I turn? You ask yourself.

"The stars are really beautiful, don't you think?" inquires the blonde doctor. You nod absently, eyes never wavering from her face. She continues to look above as if she had not even spoken.

"What are you doing here?" you ask.

"Thinking. Breathing. Counting. You?"

"Dying."

You face the sky again almost immediately after. You are not interested in seeing her concerned expression for what would surely be the eightieth time that day. It has not even been a few hours since last you two were together. It is completely her doing as well. She is the one who dragged you out here to the hospital in the first place. You still cannot believe she came to your apartment and brought you to work of all places. Where was the kind, supportive doctor who was supposed to let you stay at home another week to make sure you were not brain-damaged? And, when was she replaced by this impassive, inquisitive blonde standing beside you?

"Well, we all are, dying that is. It still doesn't explain why you're out here though," she responds. You give a half-hearted shrug. What it is supposed to say, you are not sure. But, you are sure she doesn't get it either.

A pregnant pause worms its way into the night. After a bit of this, you decide to fill it with a little fact from your past.

"My mother used to love the stars. She told me that every person who does good and dies becomes one. And, when that person loves someone, their star will always shine bright when they're out at night."

You are not looking at her when you finish this, but you can see her small, sad smile anyway.

"Do you believe your mother is a star?" she asks

"No," you mumble downcast, "She never did anything too good."

"The word is pretty flexible, Dr. Hadley."

"Are you?" you deflect

"Am I what?" she asks

"Are you flexible?"

She quirks an eyebrow upwards.

"For the most part, no. Is that relevant to this conversation?" she ponders

"No. Then again, this conversation isn't relevant at all," you declare. She nods in agreement, then goes back to the stars. You watch her stare into the sky and your eye catches a star not too far from her. She speaks before you can pay much notice.

"I wonder which one is Daniel."

"You believe he's up there?"

"I believe that everyone that passes through our lives is up there, looking down on us," she responds, you stay quiet, "Sorry, that was probably too much optimism for your pessimistic outlook."

You crack a small grin.

"My pessimistic outlook is fine, thank you very much."

"I never said that it wasn't. I just don't want to jeopardize your cool cat image by letting it out that you think your mom is watching over you."

"I don't!" you insist quickly. She seems unconvinced.

"Right. Then why are you out here?"

"Because you brought me here…. And, because every one of those little dots is a burst of energy, burning and burning until eventually it fizzles out and dies. Think of people as stars, Dr. Cameron. We can go on forever, shining brightly. Or, we can fall and in that instant where we die, someone else will be enjoying themselves, will be making a wish, or being born. Stars die everyday, and we don't do anything. We can't stop it."

"Stars are also made every now and again too."

"I know. It's why the count is never always the same."

"I thought that was just because we have to stop counting them eventually."

"That too."

You wait for her to say something else. She probably is doing the same. She looks at you, urging you on with her eyes. A plane flies overhead, and you are reminded of your childhood again.

"When I was younger, I used to say that I was going to get in a rocket ship and go find my mother's star. I told myself that when I found it, I would build a house there and stay there for the rest of my life, with my mother. I-it was a good dream while it lasted," you tell her.

"How long did it last?"

"Two hours. Then, my cousin told me that stars were just burning balls of gas, and I could never live on one no matter what."

"That was kind of mean."

You shrug, saying, "That was Joseph Hadley."

Your gaze once again is drawn to that star near her head. Its placement brightens up the blonde doctor's eyes perfectly, making them come out even more against the dark sky. It shines atop her glossy hair, drawing out a beauty that hospital lights could never achieve. You shake your head as thoughts of her pile up too quickly for your tastes.

"How often do you 'get dizzy'?" she asks you. And the subject changes.

"Depends. Are we talking about me actually being dizzy, or what you insisted I was when you broke into my apartment this morning?" you ask back. She thinks for a moment.

"Both," she eventually says.

"The second one is about the same as it was in college; every now and again. The first one is… the first one has the same answer."

"You know, it really isn't so bad," she comments. You roll your eyes. What does she know about what you are going through? She watched a guy die. She was not the one dying. It is around now that you figure she knows more than she lets on. More about life, more about House, and certainly more about you. You can't stop yourself from uttering a new plaguing question aloud.

"How long?"

"What?"

"How long have you known?"

"About the drugs? Not long. House was talking about them a few days ago. I just-"

"Not the drugs. The Huntington's."

She is silent. For a moment, you consider the option that she never knew. Then, you dismiss it with the notion that House has probably spread it all around the hospital by now.

"Two months," she admits, "I was cleaning out the files House always dumps in the janitor's closet and came across your lab report. You must have left it with him."

She watches you, waiting for a sign that what she said has registered in your mind. You slowly nod, more for show than out of some necessary need to do so.

"Did anyone ever try to go through you to House?" you ask.

"Not that I know of, no. What, thinking about the seven patient again?"

She gives you a funny sort of smile that makes you want to smile too. You do not smile though.

Seven? Oh, my score!

You are not sure whether to feel violated, or something else, by the fact that she knows about that. You go for intrigued instead.

"So, you heard about that," you start, she nods.

"Yeah. I was expecting higher though. What with your personality and eerie, blue eyes, I thought you were looking at a nine, easy."

"Eerie, blue eyes?" you repeat. She shrugs.

"It was either that, or 'vampiric, glass-like crystals that make you want to just rip her clothes from her slim body'. I figured the other would be a bit inappropriate," she concludes with a smirk. Her look probably has more to do with your open mouth than what she said though.

"You want to rip my clothes from my body?"

"I never said that. That was actually Chase."

Your eyes widen to the size of saucers.

"As in Robert Chase? Your fiancé?" you ask to clarify.

"Rob is not my fiancé," she insists defensively. You subconsciously file that reaction away for later reference.

"Why isn't he?" you probe.

"Ah, we are not going there," she declares.

"Why not? I mentioned my dead mother," you say.

"I mentioned my dead husband."

"I said I was dying."

"I admitted to dumpster diving for House's files."

"I told you something extremely personal."

"I… never told you to," she says. You frown. She really didn't tell you to say anything. She never even initiated a conversation. She simply asked a question when she first got there. You did all of it. That revelation has you silent and back to the stars once again. She laughs a little. From the corner of your eye, you see her shake her head as well.

"Wow. You are definitely well-fitted for a position under House," she says still laughing. You feel as if you are the butt of some joke only she understands.

"Too bad you never were," you snap before you can stop yourself. The smile melts away from her face. Her bright eyes burn cold. The temperature outside drops a good twenty degrees just from the glare sent your way. By her reaction, it is pretty obvious that her previous(?) crush on House is still too much of a soft spot.

She opens her mouth to retort, but closes it just as quickly. She shakes her head at you and goes to the door. You resist the urge to watch her walk away instead watching the sky. You pretend not to notice the door slam shut, or how empty the balcony feels now that it is just you again. However, you cannot help but note that the star you had been staring at before had dimmed dramatically when that portal to reality closed once more. It is fine though. One less star for you to count.

© Everything written above belongs to me (FF user, Paint Me a Symphony). If somebody is out there pushing this as their own, they are lying. I may not own House M.D, or its characters, but I do own this.

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