A/N: So, courtesy of crazy airline drama, leaving a full 26 hours late, and there being free wireless in the airport... have an update. Because cliffhangers make me feel guilty.

Twelve hours after Remy had sent a frenzied text message from the elevator in Megan's building, Spencer knocked cautiously on the door to Megan's room at the hospital. Remy looked up from where she sat tiredly at Megan's bedside, chin propped in her hands in an effort to keep her head up.

"Hey," Spencer said softly. Her eyes flitted over Megan's sedated form, alabaster skin with a grayish tinge and fluids pumping into her right arm, her left covered in bandages to manage the veins the redhead had burst with her injections. "How is she?"

Remy exhaled slowly, slumping back in the uncomfortable chair and pushing her hair back. "She'll live," she said eventually. Her voice was raspy from disuse; she glanced at the clock, surprised at how long she had been sitting anxiously at Megan's side. "Quick response helped. We got her to the hospital in time and—" Remy paused, biting her lip. "We managed to get naltrexone into her system before too much damage was done."

She paused, looking up at Spencer sadly. "I don't know about much beyond that. It limits the damage, but causes immediate withdrawal symptoms. We had to sedate her heavily."

Spencer nodded imperceptibly. She moved further into the room, stepping quietly to stand at Remy's side. They both stared at Megan's still form silently; Remy unconsciously leaned to the side, resting her temple against Spencer's hip. Spencer's hand moved to stroke her hair, and Remy felt her eyes drift shut slowly. She hadn't slept in over a day, having been unable to calm her mind enough to rest the whole time she was at the hospital. The rhythmic motion of Spencer's fingers sliding through her hair was entrancing, lulling her towards sleep.

The almost-peaceful sensation Remy felt creeping into her consciousness was broken when the door opened again and a nurse walked in to check Megan's IV.

"Dr. Hadley," the nurse said in surprise, stopping short of Megan's bed. "I didn't know you were in here. Is this one of your patients? I didn't know House had a case." She flipped through the clipboard in her hands, brow furrowed.

"No," Remy said hoarsely. Spencer's hand stilled momentarily, before sliding down to rest softly on Remy's shoulder. "She's not a diagnostics case."

"Oh," the nurse said. "I see." She offered a small smile to Remy, briskly checking Megan's IV and vital signs. "Let me know if you need anything, Dr. Hadley."

"Thanks, Laura," Remy said. She forced a smile for the nurse, who nodded once and made her way out of the room.

Remy sighed, slumping sideways against Spencer. Exhaustion, not unlike the fatigue that had plagued her in the weeks she and Megan weren't speaking, weighted her shoulders and eyelids. The sleep that had threatened the edges of her consciousness for hours battled against the guilt that was slowly, so slowly, building in her chest.

"I should have been there," she whispered. "I should have been there to stop her."

Spencer shifted away from her, moving to stand in front of the chair she sat in; Remy caught herself before her ribcage hit the arm of the chair, but only barely. "Remy," Spencer said, her voice quiet but firm. She knelt in front of Remy, hands on the doctor's knees. "Look at me. This isn't your fault."

"I knew she would shoot up," Remy said. Something that sounded like disgust dripped from her words. She couldn't force herself to meet Spencer's eyes. "As soon as I saw her freak out, I knew what she'd do. I should have been faster. I should have stopped her from leaving, or gotten there sooner. I knew, and I didn't stop it."

"You're kidding, right?" Spencer said dryly. "Remy, you did more than enough. She probably would have died if you hadn't followed her like you did. You got her here almost immediately." She smiled quietly at Remy, reaching up to grip her cold hands comfortingly. "You pretty much saved her life."

Remy scoffed, her chin falling forward to her chest. "I should have been there," she mumbled. She slumped forward tiredly. Her spine curved, her head drooping slowly, until her forehead rested on Spencer's shoulder. Her shoulders trembled silently as she fought to keep herself from crying; Spencer's hands on her back were all that kept her grounded.

Remy couldn't tell how much time had passed when she heard the door slide open again. She sat up slowly, shaking her hair out of her face, and felt like her stomach had turned to lead when she saw House standing in the doorway, head cocked to one side, staring at her impassively.

Spencer rose to her feet slowly, one hand staying on Remy's shoulder as she moved behind the doctor's chair. House remained silent, his eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them, and Spencer's hand on Remy's shoulder, and Megan's unconscious body.

"I'm a little intrigued," he said, speaking slowly. "As to how you conned Cameron into using naltrexone. I seem to remember her being quite against helping addicts cheat their way out of withdrawal." He picked up Megan's chart from where it hung at the foot of her bed, glancing over it flippantly before tossing it onto the bed and turning his eyes to Spencer.

"Can't say I expected to see you here again," he said conversationally. "She's not normally into sloppy seconds. Too hard to keep that emotional distance when everyone's sober the morning after."

Remy felt numbly like she should defend herself, but the effort involved in doing so seemed like so much more than she could handle. She remained silent and still, her eyes locked on a spot on the blanket that covered Megan's slender form.

"Of course, I clearly don't know what I'm talking about," House went on. "Since I also thought that she'd managed to get herself in line and away from all of this crap." He gestured to Megan and the bandages covering her track marks, the naltrexone in her IV, the breathing tube in her mouth. "Clearly I'm about as clued in to the sanity of my employees as Brett Favre is to the concept of real retirement."

"I'd say that pretty much covers it," Spencer said sharply. Her hand was tight on Remy's shoulder. "You may be a genius, but that doesn't mean you have a clue about what happened."

"Please, Ellen," he said, rolling his eyes. "Don't get your panties in a twist because Portia was getting her rocks off with a needle and a piece on the side. It's not you, don't you know? It's her being an idiot with a bad diagnosis." He sneered, in the way that only House could manage to do. "Too bad she couldn't have found a smarter plaything. Maybe it wouldn't have all blown up if she was with someone who knew how to manage her fun."

Without realizing she was doing so, without thinking about it, without noticing for a moment how quickly her rage had trumped her exhaustion, Remy flew out of her chair and slammed her fist into House's jaw. He staggered back, the back of his head cracking against the glass of the door before he slid to the floor.

"You son of a bitch," Remy breathed out, too filled with anger to speak above a whisper. Her hands shook, her entire body trembling. "You don't know the first thing about any of this." She felt Spencer's hands on her body, gripping at her arms and waist to hold her back.

A handful of nurses exploded into the room, all coming to a quick halt at the sight of House on the ground with blood in his teeth and Remy being held back by Spencer, the knuckles on her right hand raw and bleeding.

"What the hell is going on here?" Cuddy appeared, scattering the nurses with a well-aimed glare. "Dr. Hadley," she said darkly. "My office. Now."

"It's not her fault," Spencer said, letting go of Remy and stepping around her. "He was—"

"Quiet," Cuddy said, her voice deadly calm. "I don't know who you are, but this is my hospital and these are my employees. I will deal with them as I see fit." She turned her glare back at Remy and House, who had finally pulled himself to his feet. He dabbed at his bleeding mouth, staining the cuff of his shirt.

"Both of you," Cuddy snapped. "My office. Let's go."

Remy felt her rage dissipate slowly, deflating her almost painfully; the ache in her right hand was suddenly all that she could feel. She started after House and Cuddy, pausing only when she felt Spencer's fingers wrap around her wrist.

"Hey," Spencer said softly. She tugged on Remy's wrist, pulling her back around and sliding a hand under her chin. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Remy said, her voice dull. "He needed to be punched."

"No arguments there," Spencer muttered. She cracked a small smile. "I'll wait for you here, okay?"

"Okay," Remy said. She hated how childish she sounded. He shoulders slumped tiredly. Spencer tilted Remy's chin up and kissed her gently. "Thanks," Remy mumbled. She forced what she could of a smile before turning and half-jogging down the hallway to catch up with Cuddy.

In Cuddy's office, House spoke first. "I'm pretty sure that she deserves a time-out," he said. "Look, she made me bleed!"

"Shut up, House," Cuddy said tiredly. She crossed her arms over her chest, locking her gaze on Remy's withdrawn form. "Dr. Hadley, what's going on out there?"

Remy shrugged. "He insulted my friend. I punched him. Pretty straightforward."

Cuddy sighed, rubbing one hand over her eyes. "Look, I completely understand wanting to punch House." She ignored House's indignant "Hey!", keeping her eyes locked on Remy. "But as annoying as he is, I can't have you punching him every time he says something insulting."

"Or ever," House chimed in. "And you totally don't get to punch someone for telling the truth. I'm pretty sure it's in the Bible somewhere."

Remy reacted again without thinking, lunging across the space separating them; only Cuddy diving between the two of them and shoving her back stopped her from hitting House with another right hook.

"Hey!" Cuddy yelled. "Do you want me to have to suspend you?" She gripped Remy's shoulders, shaking her slightly. "Calm the hell down."

"Seriously," House muttered from behind her.

"House," Cuddy said, whirling around. "Get out."

"I get to leave?" He grinned. "Sweet."

"Clinic duty," Cuddy said pointedly. "You earned yourself another thirty hours this month. Go get started."

"Are you kidding? She goes all Mike Tyson and I get clinic duty?"

"Now," Cuddy said venomously. "Go."

Remy watched, impressed in spite of herself, as House seemed to fold like a child, though his eyes remained stubbornly defiant as he hobbled out of the office. Cuddy turned back to Remy, surveying her thoughtfully.

"Have a seat," she said eventually. She pushed a chair out slightly, making her way around the desk to her own chair. Remy collapsed into the chair gratefully. "Now, tell me what's going on."

Remy sighed. She pushed her hair back to buy some time, staring at a minute scratch in the wood scrolling on Cuddy's desk.

"Dr. Hadley," Cuddy said after a few seconds. "I know that your friend is in a…precarious situation." She paused. "But I need to know what the hell just happened. What did he do?"

Remy shrugged. "He said that she was my piece of ass on the side and a shooting buddy, and that if I'd picked a smarter one I could have carried on my façade longer." Even reciting the words made her cheeks flush; her hands clenched together atop her thighs angrily.

Cuddy looked at her levelly, one eyebrow raising slowly. "Well," she said. "Is she?"

"No," Remy snapped. "She's my friend. I know that it must be terribly shocking for you all to realize that an emotional screw-up like myself has friends, but I do."

"That's not what I meant," Cuddy said softly. "I didn't mean to imply that at all. I apologize."

For a brief moment, Remy suddenly understood a little of why Lisa Cuddy had so much devotion from the majority of her staff.

"He was out of line," Cuddy went on. "As always. But however uncouth his methods may be, it's his way of watching out for both his department and his employee. He doesn't want a doctor working for him who he thinks he can't trust medically, and he doesn't want you back on that spiral you were on last fall."

"I'm sure," Remy muttered sullenly.

"I'm not defending his actions," Cuddy said. "Trust me, I think it was probably great for him to finally get punched in the face." She smiled a little crookedly at Remy. "But I can't officially condone such things. I can't have doctors going around punching House in the face every time he's an ass. We'd have a line out to the street and nothing would ever get done."

Remy snorted tiredly. Cuddy's statement was too true to do anything but laugh at.

"I think you know what I'm going to ask next," Cuddy said after a long moment's silence. She held Remy's gaze, until the younger woman sighed and looked away.

"The naltrexone."

"Yes," Cuddy said simply. "That's a very dangerous treatment, as I'm sure you know. And we only use it in extreme situations. I do not want this hospital gaining a reputation of giving a medical cure for withdrawal for every addict or overdose brought into the ER."

"She's not an addict," Remy said defensively. "She's… broken. She's hurt. She uses to manage the pain, but I've known her for months while she's been using. She doesn't use regularly—she sometimes goes weeks without it—and I've never seen a single withdrawal symptom."

"Then why did she shoot four times the normal dose for someone her size into her arm?"

"Because she…" Remy trailed off, thinking back to the night before, the man and woman in the bar. "I don't really know," she said slowly. "Something happened with someone at the bar she works at, someone she knew. She flipped out and panicked and ran home to shoot up."

"Be that as it may," Cuddy said. "She's going to wake up from this coma we put her into without any withdrawal symptoms. She's going to have the easy way out of whatever withdrawal she may have faced, and it's going to be on your head to make sure she doesn't get any. You brought her in here and you somehow convinced Cameron that the naltrexone treatment was necessary, so if she winds up back in here or in any hospital with another needle in her arm, you will be very, very deep in it. Understand?"

Remy stared at her, eyes wide and unblinking. "I…yes?" she said uncertainly. When Cameron had argued with her the night before, saying that the naltrexone treatment had only been used once at Princeton Plainsboro in the last decade, and then only under House's insistence, Remy had realized that there was a good chance that Cuddy would fire her for it, and she hadn't cared. She certainly hadn't expected that Cuddy—Cuddy, who had ordered a drug test from her, who had stalked Remy's every step since walking in on her rehydration in a clinic room, who had wanted so vehemently to fire her—would offer her any semblance of understanding or slack.

"Good," Cuddy said with a nod. "I'm going to give you some extra paid vacation days. Use them this week. Stay with you friend, and make sure she doesn't end up back here."

"Okay," Remy half-whispered. She pushed herself to her feet slowly, shuffling towards the door. Hand on the doorknob, she paused and looked back at Cuddy. "Thank you," she said softly.

"You're welcome," Cuddy said just as softly. Remy shuffled back to Megan's room in a daze, arms crossed protectively over her stomach.

House stood leaning against the wall a few rooms away from Megan's. "She didn't fire you," he observed. "Figures. If I punched you, I would've been fired."

"Back off," Remy said tiredly.

"Hey," House snapped. He slammed his right arm out, stretching it and his cane in front of Remy, blocking her path. "Get yourself together," he said. "You look like hell."

"Thanks," Remy said sarcastically. "I needed the pep talk."

"The pep talk will come from your girlfriend," House said, jerking his head towards Megan's room. "Or one of them, at least. That's not what I'm here for."

"She's my friend," Remy said, anger flaring in her throat again. "You should try finding one sometime."

"Whatever she is," House said. "Get yourself in line. If you let her put you back into that spiral, I will fire you. And there won't be any more chances to come back."

"Fine," Remy muttered. "Noted. Don't stay out past curfew or I'm grounded. Now will you please get the hell out of my way, Dad?" She shoved at his arm, knocking it out of her way, and stalked away.

In Megan's room, Spencer sat in the same chair Remy had occupied earlier, a laptop open on her legs. "Hey," she said, looking up. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Remy said absently. She picked up Megan's chart, scanning over it slowly. Unsurprisingly, nothing had changed.

"What happened with the boss?" Spencer asked. She shut her laptop, setting it down atop her bag on the floor.

Remy shrugged. "I…don't really know. I thought I was going to get fired. Again. But she let me off the hook. Gave me some time off to stay with Megan."

"Wow," Spencer said. "Wasn't she the one who wanted to fire you when I was here?"

"One and the same," Remy said. "I'm as confused as you."

"Well, don't look a gift horse in the mouth, right?" Spencer said. "Time off is always good."

"Yeah, I guess so. She'll need someone to look after her for a while." Remy's eyes stayed locked on Megan's form.

"Yeah, about that," Spencer said slowly. "What's the big deal about this medicine you gave her?"

Remy sighed, shaking her head. "Naltrexone. It's a partial inverse opioid antagonist."

"Yeah, don't know what that means," Spencer said, a lopsided smile on her lips.

"It's kind of like heroin, but not," Remy said haltingly. Her head felt fuzzy, the ability to translate from medical to laymen's vernacular far too difficult to grasp. "Heroin binds to these receptors in the brain and activates them, you know? Cues up all these endorphins. The antagonist binds to the same receptors, even better than the heroin, but it doesn't activate them. So it blocks up the receptors, which prevents your body from reacting to the heroin."

"So why is it bad?"

Remy sighed again. "It's a kind of frowned upon method. It causes immediate withdrawal symptoms, which can shock the body's systems enough to cause some serious damage, and is extremely painful. That's why we had to put her into the coma." She shook her hair out of her eyes. "The hospital doesn't like using it because it's not breaking an addiction, it's just walking around the discomforts that keep people from breaking that addiction. It's not uncommon for someone who's been treated with it to go right back to using again."

"Oh," Spencer said slowly. "Got it."

"Yeah," Remy said. She dropped down into the other chair in the room, resting her head in her hands. "Cuddy said that if Megan ends up back on the needle, I'm gone." She sighed when she felt Spencer's comforting hand on her shoulder. Pushing herself to sit up straight, she smiled sadly at the other woman.

"I'm sorry," Remy said quietly. "I never wanted to drag you into the crappy melodrama of my life."

"Don't worry about it," Spencer said. She waved Remy's apology off dismissively. "I'm the one who approached you the first time around, and I'm the one who showed up at your apartment door, and I'm the one who asked you out, right?" She nudged at Remy with her shoulder when she got no response, drawing a tiny smile out of Remy. "I actually kind of like you, as hard as I know that is for you to believe."

Remy half-laughed without meaning to. "Thanks," she said hoarsely. She leaned over, kissing Spencer softly. "Thank you," she whispered again, lips brushing against Spencer's.

"No problem," Spencer said, a small smirk playing across her lips. Remy took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and let her head fall down to Spencer's shoulder. Her eyes fluttered shut at the feel of Spencer kissing her temple gently.

"When was the last time you slept?" she asked quietly.

"I dunno," Remy mumbled. "Night before last, I guess."

"You should get some rest," Spencer said. "Why don't you go home and sleep for a few hours?"

"No way," Remy said, not opening her eyes. She shifted in her seat, finding a more comfortable position to sit in as she leaned against Spencer; Spencer tilted her head, leaning it atop Remy's. "I need to stay here."

"No, you need to sleep," Spencer said. "Look, is she likely to wake up before tonight?"

Remy opened her eyes slowly, locking her gaze on Megan's slow breaths. Silently, she counted the hours in her head, her brow furrowing slightly at the math she was trying to figure out in her head. "No," she said eventually. "Probably not before tomorrow morning."

"So it won't be a big problem if you go catch some sleep in your own bed and then come back here, right?"

"I should stay," Remy said sleepily. "She could wake up sooner, and I don't want her to be alone."

Spencer sighed. "How about this," she said. "I've got a bunch of paperwork to catch up on. You go home and catch up on some sleep, and I'll stay here in case Megan wakes up. If she does, I'll call you and you can break every speed limit known to man and be here in three minutes."

"No way," Remy said. She sat up slowly. "I can't ask you to stay here alone."

"You're not," Spencer said, an amused smile on her lips. "I offered. Because you need to get some sleep, chickie. Real sleep. At home."

"But—"

"Nope," Spencer said firmly. "No buts. Go home, Remy. I'll stay with her while you rest, and then you can come back tonight and relieve me."

"I… are you sure?" Remy couldn't deny that the thought of falling into bed and sleeping sounded wonderful.

"Positive," Spencer said. "Like I said, ton of paperwork. That account in Seattle is going to kill half of the rainforest with all of its paperwork, I think."

"Okay," Remy said reluctantly. "Thank you."

"Sure thing," Spencer said. She offered Remy a confident half-smirk. "You going to be good to get home?"

"Yeah, think so," Remy said. She pushed herself to her feet, groaning as she stretched. "I rode in the ambulance here. I can call a cab."

"Probably a good idea," Spencer said. "Wouldn't want you falling asleep at the wheel."

"Thanks for your confidence in me," Remy said, rolling her eyes. She gathered her coat, shrugging into it slowly.

"I have plenty of confidence in you," Spencer shot back. "Just not in your ability to stay awake right now."

"Yeah, yeah," Remy said. Spencer stood from her chair, handing Remy her purse. She paused, a hand on Remy's elbow, before pulling the doctor into a tight embrace. Remy all but fell into it, fingers gripping tightly at the material of Spencer's shirt.

"She'll be okay," Spencer said quietly, pressing her lips against Remy's hair.

"Hope so," Remy whispered into Spencer's shoulder. She pulled away reluctantly, offering a weak smile. "I'll see you later."

"I'll be here," Spencer said. She leaned forward, kissing Remy gently. "Now get out of here and get some sleep."

"Yes ma'am," Remy said. She turned slowly, shuffling towards the door. She paused, looking back, first at Spencer, then at Megan, then back. "Spence, I…" her voice trailed off as Spencer, settled back in her chair, looked up at her expectantly.

"Thanks," Remy forced out. "For everything. You're kind of amazing."

"Well," Spencer drawled. "What can I say? My fabulousness cannot be contained."

Remy laughed softly. Her chest ached, and she felt rather like what she had said was nothing like what she had really wanted to, but she could barely find the energy to remember the number of a cab company, much less decipher her own muddled feelings. Instead, she merely smiled once more at Spencer, casting a sad look at Megan, and then made her way out of the room.

Once home, she collapsed fully-clothed into bed. Exhaustion weighted her eyelids, but sleep refused to come.